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Old 04-28-2017, 07:46 AM View Post #1 (Link) A Twilight to The Midnight
adamleon97 (Offline)
Literary Newbie
 
Join Date: Apr 2017
Posts: 2
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A Twilight to the Midnight

The wind felt so peaceful upon his face. He loved its soft embrace as he stood beneath the starlit sky watching every motion as if it was a dancer performing her most beautiful ballet with the symphony of a genius forged into a masterpiece. He felt at ease as he saw the absence of the large celestial body that encompassed the trait he so very much adored in the girl he was waiting to see once more- the pale moonlight of the night was gone and he recognized with a greater emphasis the beauty of the stars.

They were nuclear explosions billions of light years away and they surrounded him like the hands on a clock continuing the motions and dances of the hidden gears that push and pull the forces of the universe. He knew they were eternal, each one of them with the capability of forming a singularity; the potential to form the monstrosity of a black hole, he felt so in common with the stars in the sky.

“Another restless night.” He whispered. He couldn’t quite remember anymore why he was there, he was lost amongst the stars, drifting violently through waves of torture and darkness trying to grasp onto those fragments of the night sky that brightened the vacuum of their existence. He knew of nothing more than the desire of companionship that held him so closely to the edge of absolute despair. It was at this moment, that the memory of 4 A.M. Tuesdays came into the first pale blue light of the midnight.

“Hello!” she shouted in the essence of the night as she slowly approached cloaked in the darkness that echoed throughout the park, a declaration to her only friend of her presence. He heard the soft voice speak from behind him, driving his mind back into reality. It was the girl he was waiting for, foreign in her own way to the world he existed in now. She was from a land so incredibly different that he would be required to learn an entirely separate language to speak their tongue.

He saw Elisa in the moonlight and felt his foreign beauty dance across the grass to make a true embrace of her entirety. He remembered the light she brought alongside her, the resemblance of his loneliness that she only ever always encompassed.

“Are we watching the stars?” She sung as she held his hand and looked up into the eternal void, dreaming, keeping pace and staying afloat in the waves of torment. “They’re so blue”, she spoke with an arrogant certainty that felt as if she were merely stating the obvious, “reminds me of 4 A.M. Tuesdays.”

He laughed. There was a substance to her absurdity that gave him the relief he was ever-craving for. He knew of no one more perfect than his foreign beauty. She smiled with a beautiful radiance and balanced across the edges of his horizons as if she were walking a wire in a circus.

“I missed you,” He smiled softly.

“I thought you missed no one, isn’t that what you once said to me?” She replied with a quick tongue and an alluring accent. She knew just how to reach him, past the walls of insanity and forgetfulness that wraps his being like daffodils in the summer breeze.

“I suppose I was wrong. I missed you.”

She waltzed around the sentences, ignoring stop signs and traffic lights that signalled their cadence. Pointing towards the night sky, she continued her thoughts.

“I have watched the stars, the comets and the cosmic connections and come to gentle conclusions about the chaotic nature of this beautiful universe that has only ever always inspired me,” She sighed. He could feel the weight of the world crashing down on his beautiful dancer of the night as he helped to chase away the remaining darkness hiding from the fragments of light in the sky. “But it is only when I look down at the life-bearing pulchritudinous divinity of our perfect blue marble that I feel true sadness.” She continued.

He knew not of what she spoke, he only knew that it was beautiful. The words faded through the trees of the park like soft breezes of the wind caressing the leaves of another season. The voices in his head were silent from her sighs and the dreams he once held felt more real than the memories they inhabited. He forgot why he was sad, why he was lost. He could not remember for the life of him why his existence bore a weight of desire for absolution. He only knew that he was happy with his dancer of the night, so he listened.

“People have become imperfect by design, corrupted at birth and destructive in nature.” She held his head between her hands as she closed her eyes in trust of his behavior. She leaned toward him to whisper the importance of her wisdom, the climax of the night. “When people stop acknowledging each other and start contributing to the cynicism in this world,” she stopped for a second to adjust the tempo of her breath upon his skin, “it only furthers the continuation of vanishing love.”

I leaned in for the kiss.

The world melted away from him, the grass leapt from his feet and the air stood still as he carried the weight of her words on his shoulders. He leaned forward in an attempt to complete the connection of understanding and intimacy between himself and his dancer of the night. The sadness crept back through the reality of his soul as he widened his eyes to see that the foreign beauty was no longer holding him.

She was escaping into the spark of his memories, running into the treeline and blue petaled bushes of the green darkness that removed herself from his presence.

I chased her.

He hurdled over park benches, jumped over blue petaled bushes, raced around fallen branches of the wooden beasts that hovered around him, and crossed creeks and rivers in an attempt to catch up to her but this was not enough, her soul was still eluding him.

I panicked.

His breaths quickened in pace as his feet began to glide over the debris of his old life. He dodged rocks, snapped twigs, chased shadows and jumped out of his bed exiting the large empty room that inhabited only himself and his lonely mattress. He hurriedly grabbed his jacket, armed himself with his coat and withdrew from his bedroom faster than he could realize the truth of the world around him.

I stopped.

He now remembered the reasoning as to his sadness, the need of absolution and the forgotten 4 A.M. Tuesdays that haunted his dreams and tore him from his perfectly beautiful dancer of the night.

She no longer existed. She was a memory of a girl he would spend the rest of his life waiting to see once more. She was gone from him.

He fell to the floor as he remembered the sight of her lifeless body, pale white and dressed in the rosiness of blood and debris. He had believed it all to be nothing more than a nameless nightmare… but he now realized that the night he was experiencing with his foreign beauty was nothing more than a hopeful dream.

I dream of 4 A.M. Tuesdays.

(I have made a YouTube channel where I voice act, write a piano composition, perform the composition, render a scene in Unreal Engine 4 and post a video a day of a new Short story and it would help a lot if people visited my channel or the video of this short story if they liked it and left a comment and a like on the Video or other videos on my Channel)

/watch?v=hbtL9cgktPA
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Old 05-13-2017, 05:41 PM View Post #2 (Link)
WordWizard (Offline)
Novice Writer
 
Join Date: May 2017
Posts: 18
Points: 7.38
Times Thanked: 4
[QUOTE=adamleon97;201657]A Twilight to the Midnight

The wind felt so peaceful upon his face. He loved its soft embrace as he stood beneath the starlit sky watching every motion as if it was a dancer performing her most beautiful ballet with the symphony of a genius forged into a masterpiece. He felt at ease as he saw the absence of the large celestial body that encompassed the trait he so very much adored in the girl he was waiting to see once more- the pale moonlight of the night was gone and he recognized with a greater emphasis the beauty of the stars.

They were nuclear explosions billions of light years away and they surrounded him like the hands on a clock continuing the motions and dances of the hidden gears that push and pull the forces of the universe. He knew they were eternal, each one of them with the capability of forming a singularity; the potential to form the monstrosity of a black hole, he felt so in common with the stars in the sky.

“Another restless night.” He whispered. He couldn’t quite remember anymore why he was there, he was lost amongst the stars, drifting violently through waves of torture and darkness trying to grasp onto those fragments of the night sky that brightened the vacuum of their existence. He knew of nothing more than the desire of companionship that held him so closely to the edge of absolute despair. It was at this moment, that the memory of 4 A.M. Tuesdays came into the first pale blue light of the midnight.

“Hello!” she shouted in the essence of the night as she slowly approached cloaked in the darkness that echoed throughout the park, a declaration to her only friend of her presence. He heard the soft voice speak from behind him, driving his mind back into reality. It was the girl he was waiting for, foreign in her own way to the world he existed in now. She was from a land so incredibly different that he would be required to learn an entirely separate language to speak their tongue.

He saw Elisa in the moonlight and felt his foreign beauty dance across the grass to make a true embrace of her entirety. He remembered the light she brought alongside her, the resemblance of his loneliness that she only ever always encompassed.

“Are we watching the stars?” She sung as she held his hand and looked up into the eternal void, dreaming, keeping pace and staying afloat in the waves of torment. “They’re so blue”, she spoke with an arrogant certainty that felt as if she were merely stating the obvious, “reminds me of 4 A.M. Tuesdays.”

He laughed! There was a substance to her absurdity that gave him the relief he was ever-craving for. He knew of no one more perfect than his foreign beauty. She smiled with a beautiful radiance and balanced across the edges of his horizons as if she were walking a wire in a circus.

“I missed you,” He smiled softly.

“I thought you missed no one, isn’t that what you once said to me?” She replied with a quick tongue and an alluring accent. She knew just how to reach him, past the walls of insanity and forgetfulness that wraps his being like daffodils in the summer breeze.

“I suppose I was wrong. I missed you.”

She waltzed around the sentences, ignoring stop signs and traffic lights that signalled their cadence. Pointing towards the night sky, she continued her thoughts.

“I have watched the stars, the comets and the cosmic connections and come to gentle conclusions about the chaotic nature of this beautiful universe that has only ever always inspired me,” She sighed. He could feel the weight of the world crashing down on his beautiful dancer of the night as he helped to chase away the remaining darkness hiding from the fragments of light in the sky. “But it is only when I look down at the life-bearing pulchritudinous divinity of our perfect blue marble that I feel true sadness.” She continued.

He knew not of what she spoke, he only knew that it was beautiful. The words faded through the trees of the park like soft breezes of the wind caressing the leaves of another season. The voices in his head were silent from her sighs and the dreams he once held felt more real than the memories they inhabited. He forgot why he was sad, why he was lost. He could not remember for the life of him why his existence bore a weight of desire for absolution. He only knew that he was happy with his dancer of the night, so he listened.

“People have become imperfect by design, corrupted at birth and destructive in nature.” She held his head between her hands as she closed her eyes in trust of his behavior. She leaned toward him to whisper the importance of her wisdom, the climax of the night. “When people stop acknowledging each other and start contributing to the cynicism in this world,” she stopped for a second to adjust the tempo of her breath upon his skin, “it only furthers the continuation of vanishing love.”

I leaned in for the kiss.

The world melted away from him, the grass leapt from his feet and the air stood still as he carried the weight of her words on his shoulders. He leaned forward in an attempt to complete the connection of understanding and intimacy between himself and his dancer of the night. The sadness crept back through the reality of his soul as he widened his eyes to see that the foreign beauty was no longer holding him.

She was escaping into the spark of his memories, running into the treeline and blue petaled bushes of the green darkness that removed herself from his presence.

I chased her.

He hurdled over park benches, jumped over blue petaled bushes, raced around fallen branches of the wooden beasts that hovered around him, and crossed creeks and rivers in an attempt to catch up to her but this was not enough, her soul was still eluding him.

I panicked.

His breaths quickened in pace as his feet began to glide over the debris of his old life. He dodged rocks, snapped twigs, chased shadows and jumped out of his bed exiting the large empty room that inhabited only himself and his lonely mattress. He hurriedly grabbed his jacket, armed himself with his coat and withdrew from his bedroom faster than he could realize the truth of the world around him.

I stopped.

He now remembered the reasoning as to his sadness, the need of absolution and the forgotten 4 A.M. Tuesdays that haunted his dreams and tore him from his perfectly beautiful dancer of the night.

She no longer existed. She was a memory of a girl he would spend the rest of his life waiting to see once more. She was gone from him.

He fell to the floor as he remembered the sight of her lifeless body, pale white and dressed in the rosiness of blood and debris. He had believed it all to be nothing more than a nameless nightmare… but he now realized that the night he was experiencing with his foreign beauty was nothing more than a hopeful dream.

I dream of 4 A.M. Tuesdays.


(I love the smoothness of this story. I didn't expect the shift that this was just a hopeful dream. The figures of speech along with the vivid imagery helped move the story along. I felt bad for the character. The title made me want to read the story. Maybe you could add something about what used to happen at 4 a.m. Tuesday.)
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Old 05-14-2017, 01:44 PM View Post #3 (Link) My Critique
Rebekah (Offline)
Abstract Thinker
 
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Join Date: Nov 2016
Location: UK
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Hi adamleon97

I loved reading your story a twilight to midnight. The vocabulary and phrases that you use were magical. I especially liked how you set the scene and described the characters vaguely. This meant that there was a lot of freedom for the reader to imagine what was happening.

However, I have two improvements for you:

1. Speech. On a grammar side, not all of the speech you used was correct. For example: "Another restless night." He whispered. Should be, "Another restless night," he whispered. Just before the closing speech marks, if you are going to say s/he said/whispered/shouted, there shouldn't be a full stop. Also, your subject (he, she, I, Molly, John, etc.) don't need capitals, unless they are names.

2. Sentence openers. When I was reading through your piece, I noticed a lot of your sentences started with he, she or the. Some suggestions would be: after, before, under, whilst, watching, running, slowly.
__________________
Rebekah

Have A Great Day!
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Old 05-14-2017, 11:39 PM View Post #4 (Link) Critique for "A Twilight to The Midnight"
ac_writer (Offline)
Novice Writer
 
Join Date: Apr 2017
Posts: 12
Points: 11.15
Times Thanked: 1
Your title interested me to read your short story, and I'm glad I did because it was mixture of interesting, beautiful, sad. I loved the imagery and vivid details you used to describe the scene and what the main character was thinking. Near the end of the story, however, I don't quite understand why the point of view repeatedly changed from first person to third person views. I also want to know more about what happens at 4 A.M. Tuesdays.
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Old 08-03-2017, 06:43 PM View Post #5 (Link)
Joie (Offline)
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Join Date: Jul 2017
Location: Kenya
Posts: 2
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This story is heartbreakingly beautiful.The picture is very vividly painted and I love how your use of imagery, specifically this line,"He felt at ease as he saw the absence of the large celestial body that encompassed the trait he so very much adored in the girl he was waiting to see once more-the pale moonlight of the night was gone and he recognized with greater enpasis the beauty of the stars "Absolutely beautiful,and I feel that it aludes to so much more.I'd like to suggest making the wording a bit simpler and palatable.The characters would still be as deep and complex as you imagine if you said,maybe,"But it's only when I look down at the heartbreakingly beautiful divinity of this perfect world that I feel true sadness."(That was what I understood from the original sentence.)Instead of intriguing the reader,the use of such complex words and imagery might turn people away from this incredibly promising story.
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