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Old 10-05-2016, 03:14 PM View Post #1 (Link) A Very Short Story Titled The Thief
Shaddix (Offline)
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The Thief

She sees her feet dragging across the carpet, but it is not her own power that wills her to do so. She is nothing more than a puppet now, being pulled by its strings. When they pass the family portraits, he uses her hand to knock them off the wall, just because he knows she doesn’t want to. He relishes in her loss of control; the control he has taken from her. Even when his ghostly form abandons her flesh, he will stain the corridors of her true home like a sticky residue. He feels the glass through her fingers as he grazes the frames and flicks them off their nails. They fall to the soft ground in thuds, only one breaking. He kneels down slowly and takes a shard of it in her hand, and as she rises he hangs her shoulders low, as he carries her body like a second skin, a disposable layer.

When they reach the door at the end of the hall, she refuses to blink in an attempt to glaze over her vision, but he sees right through the tears, he sees the blue light pouring out over the floor. His rented right hand tightens around the glass but her skin does not break as she enters the room. The nightly news plays silently on the small TV screen, casting shadows that would not have otherwise existed. Showing her the daughter that she would not have otherwise been able to see.

They see her there, too young to sleep on her own every night but too old to admit she is still afraid of the dark.

“She should really be afraid of you.” Her lips form the words but it’s not her that’s speaking. Her daughter stirs for a moment under the cotton sheets before finding satisfaction in the cool side of her mother’s pillow.

Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me do this. She begs her body to listen to her instead of its foreign invader, but her body isn’t just hers anymore. He’s the ultimate thief, and when he is done bathing in innocent blood he will shed her skin and his own hands will be clean, but she will be left with the consequences.
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Old 10-06-2016, 09:13 PM View Post #2 (Link)
Apocalypse (Offline)
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Suggestions.
Grammar/Spelling corrections.
Things I think you should remove.

Originally Posted by Shaddix View Post
The Thief

She sees her feet dragging across the carpet, but it is not her own power that wills her to do so. She is nothing more than a puppet now, being pulled by its strings. When they who? pass the family portraits, he uses her hand to knock them off the wall, just because he knows she doesn’t want to. He relishes in her loss of control; the control he has taken from her. Even when his ghostly form abandons her flesh, he will stain the corridors of her true home like a sticky residue. He feels the glass through her fingers as he grazes the frames and flicks them off their nails. This is such a weird sentence. Using 'flick' and 'nails', for a moment there I thought you were talking about flicking something off her nails. Maybe rephrase this? They fall to the soft ground in thuds (I had to read this twice to know what "they" you are talking about) Okay, 'they' are the portraits. Gotcha., only one breaking. He kneels down slowly and takes a shard of it broken, sharp shard in her hand, and as she rises, he hangs her shoulders low, as he carries her body like a second skin, a disposable layer.

When they reach the door at the end of the hall, she refuses to blink in an attempt to glaze over her vision, (What? But isn't she supposed to have like, zero control?) but he sees right through the tears, he sees the blue light pouring out over the floor. His rented right hand tightens around the glass but her skin does not break as she enters the room. This sentence made my eyes bleed. I'll tell you why later.* The nightly news plays silently on the small TV screen, casting shadows that would not have otherwise existed.; Sshowing her the daughter that she would not have otherwise been able to see.

They see her there, too young to sleep on her own every night but too old to admit she is still afraid of the dark.

“She should really be afraid of you.” Her lips form the words but it’s not her that’s (I suggest who is instead of that's) speaking. Her daughter stirs for a moment under the cotton sheets before finding satisfaction in the cool side of her mother’s pillow.

Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me do this. She begs her body to listen to her instead of its foreign invader, but her body isn’t just hers anymore. He’s the ultimate thief, and when he is done bathing in innocent blood he will shed her skin and his own hands will be clean, but she will be left with the consequences.
That was pretty awesome.

I liked it. I mean, there are a few things you can work on so that the story flows better, but it's creepy as hell -- which I'm guessing is your whole point. And I really liked that you are 100% showing. No telling here! Yay!

*Okay, about this sentence:

His rented right hand tightens around the glass but her skin does not break as she enters the room.
First off, 'rented' isn't the word you are looking for. Because he is not actually paying for his stay, right? It's more of a possessed kind of thing. Invaded, perhaps. Also, the flow of events here is really awkward. Tightens hand but skin doesn't break as entering the room... Does that sound right to you?

I'd say you should go for something more along the lines of:
As he dragged her body from the inside out into the room, he tightened his grip on the glass without breaking skin, the glass reflecting and refracting the blue of the TV screen.

Or whatever you want. Just try rephrasing it a little because it really doesn't sound right.

Anyway! Fantastic short story. I really love stories like this. Job well done setting the pace.

I hope I was of help.

P.S. Why The Thief and not The Murderer? It's the perfect crime.
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						Last edited by Apocalypse; 10-09-2016 at 03:34 AM.
					
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Old 12-18-2017, 10:20 AM View Post #3 (Link)
Chips (Offline)
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Hi! I really liked it, it's well written, creepy, and the way the story flows is just perfect. Sent shivers down my spine!
Signed, a fellow author.
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Old 03-19-2018, 11:29 PM View Post #4 (Link)
nameless (Offline)
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The Thief

She sees her feet dragging across the carpet, but it is not her own power that wills her to do so. She is nothing more than a puppet now, being pulled by its strings. When they pass the family portraits, he uses her hand to knock them off the wall, just because he knows she doesn’t want to. He relishes in her loss of control; the control he has taken from her. Even when his ghostly form abandons her flesh, he will stain the corridors of her true home like a sticky residue. He feels the glass through her fingers as he grazes the frames and flicks them off their nails. They fall to the soft ground in thuds, only one breaking. Again, to know that only one shard breaks may be a bit irrelevant as it is just for dramatic effect, but the story itself is already pretty tense and dramatic, which is good. So just extra info there" He kneels down slowly and takes a shard of it in her hand, and as she rises he hangs her shoulders low, as he carries her body like a second skin, a disposable layer.

Perhaps the "disposable layer" bit feels like extra information here. I think the reader gets the idea with what you said."

When they reach the door at the end of the hall, she refuses to blink in an attempt to glaze over her vision, but he sees right through the tears, he sees the blue light pouring out over the floor. His rented right hand tightens around the glass but her skin does not break as she enters the room. The nightly news plays silently on the small TV screen, casting shadows that would not have otherwise existed. Showing her the daughter that she would not have otherwise been able to see.

They see her there, too young to sleep on her own every night but too old to admit she is still afraid of the dark.

“She should really be afraid of you.” Her lips form the words but it’s not her that’s speaking. Her daughter stirs for a moment under the cotton sheets before finding satisfaction in the cool side of her mother’s pillow.

Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me do this. She begs her body to listen to her instead of its foreign invader, but her body isn’t just hers anymore. He’s the ultimate thief, and when he is done bathing in innocent blood he will shed her skin and his own hands will be clean, but she will be left with the consequences.

My biggest critique is not of the story itself, but the idea behind it. Is it really the person's (i.e the puppet) who has to live with the consequences or the puppet master? This is more of an invite to a philosophical debate.

Take Hitler, he never, not once, killed a person of the jewish faith, his subordinates did (the gestapo). However, we attribute every death that we know of during the holocaust to him, because he is the one that gave the order.

In your story, i'd argue that the character may only have to live with the fact that if it she had control of her actions, she would not have done what she did. It is the intent that matters and not the actual act itself, b/c the actual act itself is determined by the intent, whether it was done under a justification (like self-defense), accident, or just plain old malice. If anything she would just have to suffer from some form of PTSD from looking at a dead person.

Sorry, other than that, pretty good (Very) short story. i enjoyed. Has a hidden philosophical meaning when one reads between the lines. Don't know if you intended this or not, but regardless, really good.
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Old 05-07-2018, 12:15 AM View Post #5 (Link) Critique
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A nice, bone-chilling story...but who's the girl? Why is she controlled by the man?
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Old 05-10-2018, 12:39 AM View Post #6 (Link) My Opinion
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I'll be honest, I loved it! As a young writer my self, this encouraged me. But, there are still some mistakes but I mean, we're not all perfect, right?
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Old 06-26-2018, 08:41 PM View Post #7 (Link)
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So creepy! I love the description of her no longer having control. ‘Disposable layer’ really highlights that it doesn’t matter to him what happens to her afterwards.
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Old 07-02-2018, 05:28 AM View Post #8 (Link) It story of beautiful heart
Amit Jat (Offline)
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In a valley far, far away, once lived a young man who claimed that he had the most beautiful heart of the whole valley. Everywhere he came he showed it to everyone who wanted to see it, and indeed his heart was as perfect as a heart can be. The young man reaped admiration everywhere, and his heart swelled with pride.

One day he had gathered a large crowd around him again. They stood in the middle of the village, and everyone admired his heart. They all agreed: This heart was perfect! It was also completely cool, there was no scratch or wound to see. This was the most beautiful and heartiest heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud of it and boasted about his beautiful and perfect heart.

Suddenly an old man stepped out of the crowd and said "Why is not your heart as beautiful as mine?". The old man showed his heart and everyone looked at it. It hit powerful, but it was full of scars and there were places where pieces were removed and other pieces were put in, and these pieces did not fit nicely in the holes but had ragged corners. There were even places where whole pieces from his heart were missing. People looked surprised. "How can you say that your heart is the most beautiful?", They thought.

The young man also looked at the heart of the old man and saw the state in which it was wrong. He laughed "You're sure kidding," he said, "compare your heart with mine. Mine is perfect and yours is a mess full of scars and tears. "

"Yes," said the old man, "your heart looks perfect, but I would not trade with you." "Look," he said, "every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love: I tear a piece of my heart and give it to that person and often give them a piece of their heart back to me to fill the empty place. "

"But the pieces are not exactly the same. I have frayed corners, I agree with you, but it reminds me that we have shared love with each other. Sometimes I give away a piece of my heart and the other person has not given me back a piece of his heart. Those are the empty holes, giving love is a risk. "

"Even though those holes in my heart are painful, they remain open. It reminds me that I also have love for these people and I hope that they will one day return and fill the gap. "

"So," he said, "do you see what real beauty is?"

The young man stood motionless, tears rolling down his cheeks. He walked over to the old man, seized his perfect heart, tore out a piece, and with trembling hands offered it to the old man. The old man accepted his sacrifice, placed it in his own heart, and took another piece from his heart and placed it in the wound of the young man's heart.

It did not fit perfectly and there were some fraying, but the young man looked at his heart, no longer perfect, and loved it like never before. It was now more beautiful than before, because the old man's love now also flowed through his heart.

They hugged each other and walked side by side ....



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