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I've posted it before and damn it I'm posting it again. I am getting some great feedback from another site (mainly about the over elaborate use of words etc) and reckon there may be some further scope for feedback here:
Dante’s Inferno had become a physical reality.
Searing flame enveloped the building, as fiery tendrils crept inexorably toward the research laboratory atop the withering behemoth of steel, fabric and glass. Materials peeled away from the structure like leprosy. Bone followed skin as though it too was abandoning the body to seek respite elsewhere. The internal support structures that gave way had been weakened immeasurably by the purge, no longer able to bear their Atlas burden.
The internal organs of Memcore Industries could not escape, and perished, consumed by the ravenous conflagration that gluttonously fed upon them. The fire was fuelled in its intensity by the ruptured artery of chemicals, which bled deep within the host and oxygen combusted greedily from the cold night air. A waxing Moon, soon to expose the world to its shimmering, spherical voluptuousness, paled from view as the thick, acrid smoke tried unrepentantly to choke it in the heavens.
In truth the Moon was glad to have its vision obscured, and its jealousy of man and of the Sun clouded its thoughts further; I am but a mere reflection, a lowly imitation, even at the zenith of my power I am reliant on Him for me to shine, it opined. I exist only to reflect His glory. Even lowly man can create fire and light, it raged.
Man who feared me for so long, fearing that my eclipse was a portent of evil; because it blocked their precious golden vision of Him. Man who even craved me for a time, only to spurn me once their Apollo had delivered them to the truth. Worship of the old Gods and ideologies has been abandoned, replaced by a new religion, one whose deity is not omnipotent but who is undeniably potent. Now their faith is in science as they worship their biological creator DNA.
Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin. He watched as the anathema ate his life’s work. It was a simple but appropriate fact; the realisation that the obliteration of his research and The Project was a direct result of its success. This was an abomination that he could not cope with, let alone take responsibility for. Dr Reaper’s mind went supernova seconds before his total and utter physical collapse.
Dante’s Inferno had become a physical reality.
Searing flame enveloped the building, as fiery tendrils crept inexorably toward the research laboratory atop the withering behemoth of steel, fabric and glass. Materials peeled away from the structure like leprosy. Bone followed skin as though it too was abandoning the body to seek respite elsewhere. The internal support structures that gave way had been weakened immeasurably by the purge, no longer able to bear their Atlas burden.
The internal organs of Memcore Industries could not escape, and perished, consumed by the ravenous conflagration that gluttonously fed upon them. The fire was fuelled in its intensity by the ruptured artery of chemicals, which bled deep within the host and oxygen combusted greedily from the cold night air. A waxing Moon, soon to expose the world to its shimmering, spherical voluptuousness, paled from view as the thick, acrid smoke tried unrepentantly to choke it in the heavens.
In truth the Moon was glad to have its vision obscured, and its jealousy of man and of the Sun clouded its thoughts further; I am but a mere reflection, a lowly imitation, even at the zenith of my power I am reliant on Him for me to shine, it opined. I exist only to reflect His glory. Even lowly man can create fire and light, it raged.
Man who feared me for so long, fearing that my eclipse was a portent of evil; because it blocked their precious golden vision of Him. Man who even craved me for a time, only to spurn me once their Apollo had delivered them to the truth. Worship of the old Gods and ideologies has been abandoned, replaced by a new religion, one whose deity is not omnipotent but who is undeniably potent. Now their faith is in science as they worship their biological creator DNA.
Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin. He watched as the anathema ate his life’s work. It was a simple but appropriate fact; the realisation that the obliteration of his research and The Project was a direct result of its success. This was an abomination that he could not cope with, let alone take responsibility for. Dr Reaper’s mind went supernova seconds before his total and utter physical collapse.
The sagacious one wrote:
> "Then some bloke did something and it was exciting. He had a
> gun, a big one with a trigger and some bullets. They were inside the
> gun. He was naughty".
*shakes fist like an angry cartoon*
> "Then some bloke did something and it was exciting. He had a
> gun, a big one with a trigger and some bullets. They were inside the
> gun. He was naughty".
*shakes fist like an angry cartoon*
Very good as a piece of stand-alone random writing, but if you continued like that for a whole book you and anyone that read it would probably collapse.
But it could work well if the rest of the book was written normally - gives the opening a more important and epic feel.
Me likes
But it could work well if the rest of the book was written normally - gives the opening a more important and epic feel.
Me likes
Black Glove wrote:
> And IB, what the hell does "ceefness" mean?
Ah, 'ceef' simply means "wordy", as in over-elaborated.
> And IB, what the hell does "ceefness" mean?
Ah, 'ceef' simply means "wordy", as in over-elaborated.
Black Glove wrote:
> I've always found that if I begin some writing which is rich in
> extravagant description that I can't keep it going beyond the
> elaborate introduction.
Yeah I ran out of steam fairly quickly! The next paragraph would read:
"Then some bloke did something and it was exciting. He had a gun, a big one with a trigger and some bullets. They were inside the gun. He was naughty".
> I've always found that if I begin some writing which is rich in
> extravagant description that I can't keep it going beyond the
> elaborate introduction.
Yeah I ran out of steam fairly quickly! The next paragraph would read:
"Then some bloke did something and it was exciting. He had a gun, a big one with a trigger and some bullets. They were inside the gun. He was naughty".
I've always found that if I begin some writing which is rich in extravagant description that I can't keep it going beyond the elaborate introduction.
I think storytelling works best when normal everyday language is used and then is spattered here and there with moments of unique description.
"Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin."
This would work in a poem, but as an incidental descriptive moment it seems over-elaborate to me, as does the whole thing. If the description is too full-on it dulls its impact and believability factor. But I'm no expert, and overall I like it. It's just a little too cluttered.
And IB, what the hell does "ceefness" mean?
I think storytelling works best when normal everyday language is used and then is spattered here and there with moments of unique description.
"Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin."
This would work in a poem, but as an incidental descriptive moment it seems over-elaborate to me, as does the whole thing. If the description is too full-on it dulls its impact and believability factor. But I'm no expert, and overall I like it. It's just a little too cluttered.
And IB, what the hell does "ceefness" mean?
lnsane Bartender wrote:
> I liked it, although it does possibly verge on ceefness. Also thought
> the changing between third and first person as the moon starts to
> natter could have been handled better.
>
> I would cut down the over-elaboration and use of words, especially in
> the fist two paras to make it a little more readable, but not much.
> As it is, it looks like you agonised over the particular wording of
> every sentence, feverishly searching for synonyms in your thesaurus.
> But still a cool, if brief snippet.
Yeah I'm a bit of a synonym freak. I don't think I could sustain that level of agonised writing for long; a prologue is about my limit. It's almost like an audition piece...
I agree that the whole Moon thing is a bit clumbsy and I'm certainly tempted to cut that out, or at least heavily edit it.
Thanks for the feedback.
> I liked it, although it does possibly verge on ceefness. Also thought
> the changing between third and first person as the moon starts to
> natter could have been handled better.
>
> I would cut down the over-elaboration and use of words, especially in
> the fist two paras to make it a little more readable, but not much.
> As it is, it looks like you agonised over the particular wording of
> every sentence, feverishly searching for synonyms in your thesaurus.
> But still a cool, if brief snippet.
Yeah I'm a bit of a synonym freak. I don't think I could sustain that level of agonised writing for long; a prologue is about my limit. It's almost like an audition piece...
I agree that the whole Moon thing is a bit clumbsy and I'm certainly tempted to cut that out, or at least heavily edit it.
Thanks for the feedback.
I enjoyed it as much this time round as I did the first time I read it - even if I do not have a clue why. It must just strike a chord and at least I didn't need to get the dictionary out this time.
That's several times this week that Dante has been mentioned, I think I ought to find out more about this.
That's several times this week that Dante has been mentioned, I think I ought to find out more about this.
I liked it, although it does possibly verge on ceefness. Also thought the changing between third and first person as the moon starts to natter could have been handled better.
I would cut down the over-elaboration and use of words, especially in the fist two paras to make it a little more readable, but not much. As it is, it looks like you agonised over the particular wording of every sentence, feverishly searching for synonyms in your thesaurus. But still a cool, if brief snippet.
I would cut down the over-elaboration and use of words, especially in the fist two paras to make it a little more readable, but not much. As it is, it looks like you agonised over the particular wording of every sentence, feverishly searching for synonyms in your thesaurus. But still a cool, if brief snippet.
I've posted it before and damn it I'm posting it again. I am getting some great feedback from another site (mainly about the over elaborate use of words etc) and reckon there may be some further scope for feedback here:
Dante’s Inferno had become a physical reality.
Searing flame enveloped the building, as fiery tendrils crept inexorably toward the research laboratory atop the withering behemoth of steel, fabric and glass. Materials peeled away from the structure like leprosy. Bone followed skin as though it too was abandoning the body to seek respite elsewhere. The internal support structures that gave way had been weakened immeasurably by the purge, no longer able to bear their Atlas burden.
The internal organs of Memcore Industries could not escape, and perished, consumed by the ravenous conflagration that gluttonously fed upon them. The fire was fuelled in its intensity by the ruptured artery of chemicals, which bled deep within the host and oxygen combusted greedily from the cold night air. A waxing Moon, soon to expose the world to its shimmering, spherical voluptuousness, paled from view as the thick, acrid smoke tried unrepentantly to choke it in the heavens.
In truth the Moon was glad to have its vision obscured, and its jealousy of man and of the Sun clouded its thoughts further; I am but a mere reflection, a lowly imitation, even at the zenith of my power I am reliant on Him for me to shine, it opined. I exist only to reflect His glory. Even lowly man can create fire and light, it raged.
Man who feared me for so long, fearing that my eclipse was a portent of evil; because it blocked their precious golden vision of Him. Man who even craved me for a time, only to spurn me once their Apollo had delivered them to the truth. Worship of the old Gods and ideologies has been abandoned, replaced by a new religion, one whose deity is not omnipotent but who is undeniably potent. Now their faith is in science as they worship their biological creator DNA.
Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin. He watched as the anathema ate his life’s work. It was a simple but appropriate fact; the realisation that the obliteration of his research and The Project was a direct result of its success. This was an abomination that he could not cope with, let alone take responsibility for. Dr Reaper’s mind went supernova seconds before his total and utter physical collapse.
Dante’s Inferno had become a physical reality.
Searing flame enveloped the building, as fiery tendrils crept inexorably toward the research laboratory atop the withering behemoth of steel, fabric and glass. Materials peeled away from the structure like leprosy. Bone followed skin as though it too was abandoning the body to seek respite elsewhere. The internal support structures that gave way had been weakened immeasurably by the purge, no longer able to bear their Atlas burden.
The internal organs of Memcore Industries could not escape, and perished, consumed by the ravenous conflagration that gluttonously fed upon them. The fire was fuelled in its intensity by the ruptured artery of chemicals, which bled deep within the host and oxygen combusted greedily from the cold night air. A waxing Moon, soon to expose the world to its shimmering, spherical voluptuousness, paled from view as the thick, acrid smoke tried unrepentantly to choke it in the heavens.
In truth the Moon was glad to have its vision obscured, and its jealousy of man and of the Sun clouded its thoughts further; I am but a mere reflection, a lowly imitation, even at the zenith of my power I am reliant on Him for me to shine, it opined. I exist only to reflect His glory. Even lowly man can create fire and light, it raged.
Man who feared me for so long, fearing that my eclipse was a portent of evil; because it blocked their precious golden vision of Him. Man who even craved me for a time, only to spurn me once their Apollo had delivered them to the truth. Worship of the old Gods and ideologies has been abandoned, replaced by a new religion, one whose deity is not omnipotent but who is undeniably potent. Now their faith is in science as they worship their biological creator DNA.
Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin. He watched as the anathema ate his life’s work. It was a simple but appropriate fact; the realisation that the obliteration of his research and The Project was a direct result of its success. This was an abomination that he could not cope with, let alone take responsibility for. Dr Reaper’s mind went supernova seconds before his total and utter physical collapse.