sapi
05-24-2007, 08:34
No, I don't write much, I know - once or twice a year when I have to is pretty much it :yes:
That said, I am interested in feedback, as I tend to get to the stage where I can't look at something that I've written impartially or fairly.
So I'd welcome a quick read and a comment at somewhere between cc3 to cc5, depending on your mood (it really doesn't worry me). Hopefully I didn't commit any of the usual sins of my age group, as indicated by doc_bean :laugh4:
Quick background on the piece: It's supposed to be about Australian Identity. It's not. My final copy is, as it has to be, but I'm not as comfortable with it as I am with this earlier draft.
Now this isn't a great piece of writing, story-wise, and I know that; it's extremely ambiguous. I just can't stand conforming to the usual clichéd plots and stereotypes, as much as it would benefit me.
Oh, and the ending's awful ~:)
And again. It had been happening for the past hour, the conversation going round in circles, achieving nothing.
“It is the only way to ensure-“
“We have a duty to-“
“Duty? They have a duty!”
The same questions, the same answers. He knew what he would do, of course. Never any chance of persuasion here, he thought.
“It is not our place-“
“Then whose place is it?”
“It would not be right-“
Righteousness. What a quaint term to apply to this situation. Was he really the only one who knew?
“Enough. Enough!”
Quiet. At long last.
“Who’s with me? Who’s bloody with me?”
What did he expect, he wondered. Proclamations of abandonment?
The hands went up, one by one, until the entire gathering had done so. Desertion was a crime, after all.
There is no choice; there is but the illusion of choice.
A pause, a quick survey of the room.
“Very well. We go.”
So it begins.
The darkness was suffocating, testament to the long-awaited dawn. Not a sliver of sunlight could be seen over the horizon. That would come later, of course. But it was the here and the now that were of concern. In the darkness, things were coming to a head. There were no frantic discussions, often as not features of such matters. It was quiet, like it was on this day every year. Most years, it was both quiet and peaceful. This year, that was not to be. And so in the darkness figures moved, going about what others assumed was their business. On this day, above all, no one would challenge them.
It wasn’t happening all around the country, as countless clichéd stories would have it be. But in this one place, the epicentre of this day, it was. And that’s all that was needed. The media, after all, has great power, great reach, and great potential. As all things borne of man, it was neither good nor evil, but could be used for both. And in the name of both it would be used. Perspective is everything.
Did he have a choice, he wondered? Could he still distinguish between right and wrong, or was that lost to him?
It mattered not, he decided. They would act as one.
A rustle, movement in the shadows, then silence. Two clicks from behind the bush. One from across the way. A test signal from the loudspeaker; the ‘all clear’. Finally, the pieces were in position. It was time to wait.
Dawn. A red dawn. Fitting, he supposed.
The ceremony had begun now, the sun rising over the hilltop behind the speaker’s podium, silhouetting him.
Protection must be having fits about that. Not that it matters.
“And as we are gathered here today, to remember those who cannot attend…”
The same trite remarks that were made every year. You’d think that this year, at least, would be special, but no. Politicians.
“…It is perhaps especially relevant, considering the events of recent times, to turn now to those around you and greet them as brothers, for no one person can bear this load alone…”
Nothing but empty words, as he’d been led to expect. So they were right.
“…and in the wake of the actions of last October, I doubt that there is a man here who will repeat the mistakes of that time, and discriminate in that way…”
Good riddance.
Live transmissions to all around the country; to all around the world. A system so obviously set up in a time of peace, but one whose proponents claimed would serve as well in times of crisis. How wrong they were.
Oh, the wonders of the media. If they only knew what part they would play.
As the crowd looked on in silence, and as yet unbeknownst to them, a shadowy figure was emerging from the darkness behind the speaker's podium. Few noticed him at first, though that would soon change. The man – for it was clear by now that it was a man – seemed to be dressed in dark clothing, though it was difficult to tell, silhouetted as he was against the breaking dawn.
“…and so I guarantee every citizen in this country that the wrongs of the past will not be repeated in the future that we together will create. I guarantee every person standing in front of me here today that we will bring the perpetrators of that atrocity to justice, and that we will never stop until they are caught…”
Alea iacta est
Crack! The speaker, now in full swing, was interrupted by the sound similar to that of a car backfiring. For a second, there was silence, and then confusion reigned. It took the speaker a few seconds to register what had happened to him, but then he slumped to the ground, surprise on his face.
Moving quickly now. No time to think, just to act. Running, deploying, according to a plan long agreed to.
It was soon over, almost before it began. Pouring out of the darkness came heavily armed troops, there at the speaker’s request, but not his bidding. It was amazing how quickly that calm could be restored through a simple show of force, though, considering the occasion, it shouldn’t have been.
As the black clad men took up their positions around the square, a single figure made his way up to the recently vacated podium.
Need a drink, food, anything. He’d never done that before, not once in all those years. But here he was, ready to speak. He’d make it right again; he’d explain.
"People of this great country, this has been your past to make…and look what has been made of it. This morning, we witnessed the fall of a great man..."
Oh, here we go. Well, he supposed that it was necessary; one couldn’t admit to what had just been done.
"…and so, for the good of every one of you standing here today, we have acted. We have acted for your benefit, though it may not seem as such. We have acted to do what is necessary to prevent the events of this fateful morning ever repeating themselves…”
And so it was done. Stand together, fall together.
It was impossible to tell what the future would bring, but he would not face it alone, and nor would any other person in the country, thanks to them.
That said, I am interested in feedback, as I tend to get to the stage where I can't look at something that I've written impartially or fairly.
So I'd welcome a quick read and a comment at somewhere between cc3 to cc5, depending on your mood (it really doesn't worry me). Hopefully I didn't commit any of the usual sins of my age group, as indicated by doc_bean :laugh4:
Quick background on the piece: It's supposed to be about Australian Identity. It's not. My final copy is, as it has to be, but I'm not as comfortable with it as I am with this earlier draft.
Now this isn't a great piece of writing, story-wise, and I know that; it's extremely ambiguous. I just can't stand conforming to the usual clichéd plots and stereotypes, as much as it would benefit me.
Oh, and the ending's awful ~:)
And again. It had been happening for the past hour, the conversation going round in circles, achieving nothing.
“It is the only way to ensure-“
“We have a duty to-“
“Duty? They have a duty!”
The same questions, the same answers. He knew what he would do, of course. Never any chance of persuasion here, he thought.
“It is not our place-“
“Then whose place is it?”
“It would not be right-“
Righteousness. What a quaint term to apply to this situation. Was he really the only one who knew?
“Enough. Enough!”
Quiet. At long last.
“Who’s with me? Who’s bloody with me?”
What did he expect, he wondered. Proclamations of abandonment?
The hands went up, one by one, until the entire gathering had done so. Desertion was a crime, after all.
There is no choice; there is but the illusion of choice.
A pause, a quick survey of the room.
“Very well. We go.”
So it begins.
The darkness was suffocating, testament to the long-awaited dawn. Not a sliver of sunlight could be seen over the horizon. That would come later, of course. But it was the here and the now that were of concern. In the darkness, things were coming to a head. There were no frantic discussions, often as not features of such matters. It was quiet, like it was on this day every year. Most years, it was both quiet and peaceful. This year, that was not to be. And so in the darkness figures moved, going about what others assumed was their business. On this day, above all, no one would challenge them.
It wasn’t happening all around the country, as countless clichéd stories would have it be. But in this one place, the epicentre of this day, it was. And that’s all that was needed. The media, after all, has great power, great reach, and great potential. As all things borne of man, it was neither good nor evil, but could be used for both. And in the name of both it would be used. Perspective is everything.
Did he have a choice, he wondered? Could he still distinguish between right and wrong, or was that lost to him?
It mattered not, he decided. They would act as one.
A rustle, movement in the shadows, then silence. Two clicks from behind the bush. One from across the way. A test signal from the loudspeaker; the ‘all clear’. Finally, the pieces were in position. It was time to wait.
Dawn. A red dawn. Fitting, he supposed.
The ceremony had begun now, the sun rising over the hilltop behind the speaker’s podium, silhouetting him.
Protection must be having fits about that. Not that it matters.
“And as we are gathered here today, to remember those who cannot attend…”
The same trite remarks that were made every year. You’d think that this year, at least, would be special, but no. Politicians.
“…It is perhaps especially relevant, considering the events of recent times, to turn now to those around you and greet them as brothers, for no one person can bear this load alone…”
Nothing but empty words, as he’d been led to expect. So they were right.
“…and in the wake of the actions of last October, I doubt that there is a man here who will repeat the mistakes of that time, and discriminate in that way…”
Good riddance.
Live transmissions to all around the country; to all around the world. A system so obviously set up in a time of peace, but one whose proponents claimed would serve as well in times of crisis. How wrong they were.
Oh, the wonders of the media. If they only knew what part they would play.
As the crowd looked on in silence, and as yet unbeknownst to them, a shadowy figure was emerging from the darkness behind the speaker's podium. Few noticed him at first, though that would soon change. The man – for it was clear by now that it was a man – seemed to be dressed in dark clothing, though it was difficult to tell, silhouetted as he was against the breaking dawn.
“…and so I guarantee every citizen in this country that the wrongs of the past will not be repeated in the future that we together will create. I guarantee every person standing in front of me here today that we will bring the perpetrators of that atrocity to justice, and that we will never stop until they are caught…”
Alea iacta est
Crack! The speaker, now in full swing, was interrupted by the sound similar to that of a car backfiring. For a second, there was silence, and then confusion reigned. It took the speaker a few seconds to register what had happened to him, but then he slumped to the ground, surprise on his face.
Moving quickly now. No time to think, just to act. Running, deploying, according to a plan long agreed to.
It was soon over, almost before it began. Pouring out of the darkness came heavily armed troops, there at the speaker’s request, but not his bidding. It was amazing how quickly that calm could be restored through a simple show of force, though, considering the occasion, it shouldn’t have been.
As the black clad men took up their positions around the square, a single figure made his way up to the recently vacated podium.
Need a drink, food, anything. He’d never done that before, not once in all those years. But here he was, ready to speak. He’d make it right again; he’d explain.
"People of this great country, this has been your past to make…and look what has been made of it. This morning, we witnessed the fall of a great man..."
Oh, here we go. Well, he supposed that it was necessary; one couldn’t admit to what had just been done.
"…and so, for the good of every one of you standing here today, we have acted. We have acted for your benefit, though it may not seem as such. We have acted to do what is necessary to prevent the events of this fateful morning ever repeating themselves…”
And so it was done. Stand together, fall together.
It was impossible to tell what the future would bring, but he would not face it alone, and nor would any other person in the country, thanks to them.