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[Bri]

Thanks for the compliment, but my writing is nothing special.

 

However art is different things to different people, and I always envied those who could draw.

[Lord Ernie]

Thanks for the compliment, but my writing is nothing special.

 

Right. And I'm an American.

 

However art is different things to different people, and I always envied those who could draw.

 

I've always envied people good at most any form of art, be it writing, drawing, music, or most any other. I've found that I excel in only one: criticism.

[Guest Skree]

Well, criticism is the heart of improvement when it comes to many kinds of procucts. Without criticism we would still be playing Dungeon Master (with all due respect towards that classic). Moreover, criticism is my job, so i could be biased.... hell, who cares?

 

Speaking of such, allow me to tell a story wich has nothing to do to the discussion we're making (or maybe it does?).

 

It was a beautiful, sunny day, birds flew around, the sun was high, rejuvenating all with his warmth... the scene on the ground, however, was a scene of horror and hatred. There was that child, hidden in the woods, looking at what was happening in the valley not too far from him... a big number of human soldiers were attacking an immense creature, all horns and talons... the dead numbered high, but the humans continued to attack... in the end, by sheer number, they began to weaken the creature, wich realized she was slowly dying. She cried and then roared in her despair... she knew he was safe... so she had no fear in facing death. Still, she didn't understand why those tiny and pityful creatures were attacking her... she never did harm to them, never attacked their horrendous towns... al she wanted was to live in contact with nature, away from the politics and power struggles of that strange race of pink-skinned beasts...

 

In the end, she had no more strenght, she had to surrender and died in agony as hundreds of those little monsters pierced her body with their weapons of steel. The lone child, in the woods, looked at everything in pain... when the big creature exaled her last breath he could only thought one word... "mother..." as a single tear left a trail on his innocent face...

 

His innocence, though, died with his mother... he left the place of the assassination, and lived without letting thos little creatures know of him.

 

Several years later... another scene, anothe place of peace and beauty... a small home, during winter. There a man in his late fortys was holding in his harms a small child, his third and last son... a few meters away his wife was preparing supper for everyone... she was happy, and sang a song of happiness that entertained her sons and her husband...

 

Then, terror came... first a howl, then a big crash on the wooden-built house... the children cried in fear as their parents hugged them to calm them down... the small house couldn't resist the force of wathever monster was attacking them... the five innocent lives inside the house screamend in unison as a big, brown colored monster forced himself inside their now-crumbling house... he was big, full of horns and talons... an image of terror himself... and there were nothing else but fury in its heart. He first begun with the woman... killing her and the fiveyears old girl she was holding in her arms... then came the other children, who fell helplessly against that incarnation of hatred. The man had eyes wide open in horror and cries... "we killed you!" he shouted... the creature stopped for but an instant, before killing him too...

 

"you killed my mother, not me" was his answer, but no-one could hear it. "These were the last... there are no more of these monsters... mother, rest in peace, your son has defended your memory".

 

Now i ask you... "where is justice?"

 

 

End of the story... criticism is, of course, well accepted. I just ask that you show mercy if i made some spelling errors, since english is not my native language.

 

*bows*

 

I'll take my leave.

[Pekka]

Thanks for the compliment, but my writing is nothing special.

Understatement of the year. I've read quite a few texts over the last 30 years, and I think I recognize a writer who knows what s/he's doing.

 

So take pride in your work!

[Mahault]

Very very interesting. It reminds me somewhat of Beowulf, maybe this was an influence? So here is my meager input: There is some great tension, however, make it more. Develop the characters so they are unique and not easy to dismiss, they need to be more than victims of circumstance. You raise the question about justice, use this to confuse the readers, play with us, we are at your whim.

 

By the way, it takes courage to write prose in a foreign language, awesome job and keep it up.

[Bri]

Well, Pekka, thanks for the compliment.

 

I think one thing to bear in mind is that when people are capable of something, they don't necessarily see it as special. And the simple reason is that it is something they could always do, and have gotten used to it.

 

Whether it is someone's drawing capability (and as I mentioned before, I wish I could draw a tenth as well as them), to others having a gift with numbers, or even those who are born athletes...it is very easy to look at another's abilities as a gift while downplaying one's own.

 

Lord Ernie, I don't mind criticism, and there have been some significant changes in Del from various critiques that were given. Mind you, there were a few I didn't agree with, but honest criticism, commentary without malice...there is nothing wrong with that. I certainly know that not everyone is going to like my stuff, and that is fine.

 

And Skree, good story. However, it really isn't clear the first person was a wolf/werewolf until you mentioned the pink-things. I think a bit more elaboration would greatly strengthen it (and it wouldn't require much, of course). You may also consider putting such things later on in the Fan Fiction section as well

[Lord Ernie]

I think one thing to bear in mind is that when people are capable of something, they don't necessarily see it as special. And the simple reason is that it is something they could always do, and have gotten used to it.

 

Whether it is someone's drawing capability (and as I mentioned before, I wish I could draw a tenth as well as them), to others having a gift with numbers, or even those who are born athletes...it is very easy to look at another's abilities as a gift while downplaying one's own.

 

All too true, and a bad habit of mine. It's a direct result of being moderatly good at most everything I do. Exit Self-Reflextive mode.

 

Lord Ernie, I don't mind criticism, and there have been some significant changes in Del from various critiques that were given. Mind you, there were a few I didn't agree with, but honest criticism, commentary without malice...there is nothing wrong with that. I certainly know that not everyone is going to like my stuff, and that is fine.

 

True again, and a very healthy viewpoint. Some people want to please everyone and are disappointed when they don't. And as for the criticism: I'll try to keep it up.

 

And Skree, good story. However, it really isn't clear the first person was a wolf/werewolf until you mentioned the pink-things. I think a bit more elaboration would greatly strengthen it (and it wouldn't require much, of course). You may also consider putting such things later on in the Fan Fiction section as well 

 

As for me, I actually didn't catch the werewolf part at all. If you know it, you can read some hints, but I missed it completely first time round. Nice story, still. I for one am a firm disbeliever of innocence in general.

 

To other matters: anyone seen Cam lately?

[CamDawg]

I'm here, I'm here. Folks have been in town for the past week so I've been playing tour guide and not been around the site much.

[Guest Skree]

As for me, I actually didn't catch the werewolf part at all. If you know it, you can read some hints, but I missed it completely first time round. Nice story, still. I for one am a firm disbeliever of innocence in general.

 

Well, you didn't catch it because the "monsters" werent werewolves (duh ). In fact, i imagined them as a bipedal monster, with leathery hide, reverse joint legs, spikes and horns at these joints, and an evil, evil look. But they could as well be dragons, or werewolves, or demons... their aspect isn't important, at least in what i've written... the important part is that, for once, the monsters are the victim of the situation, and the "holy quest" to avenge a family wiped out is not carried out by a paladin... but by an orphan monster, made orphan by the bigotry of humans.

 

Everyone accepts the stereotype of the hero who has his village wiped clean by orcs and then wipes out every single orc he sees...

 

I find disturbing, however, how few people ar capable of accepting a monster wiping out humas to avenge his own family.

 

A tiger cannot hunt a human to feed her offspring, but a human has every right to hunt a tiger for *fun*, risking only a minimal fee in the worst case.

 

This is another thing i find *really* disturbing.

 

What i am trying to say is that my story has a morale, deep inside... and that morale is that, often if not always, the only true monsters are the humans, and the only race that truly deserves to be wiped out IS the human race, and no-one else...

 

Not goblins, not orcs, not leopards, not tigers, not dragons. Humans, just them. Of course there *are* ecceptions, there always are, but humans, really, shouldn't be 6 billions/300 millions/whathever number chosen by a writer. They should be one million in the whole world. And that would already be a big enough number.