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From an outdated vehicle a man comes out, appearing tired and annoyed. He takes a quick look over his shoulder and shakes his head. Something has him distracted. The place this old geezer was standing on could be considered a desert, with no life or signs of human constructions, except for a house. New? Old? Neither. A three-story building, marble facade, and jade frames made a timeless piece of art, or at least it would be one if it wasn’t so horribly built.
Without a second to waste the man enters the building, no fear can be seen in his face, and the predominant emotion is still annoyance.
The first thing the house does is to greet him with a cat, who bites his throat and takes a good chunk out of it. The man's face contorts in pain for a brief moment, but then changes to disappointment. That was something he didn't expect, but it wasn't enough to make him feel in danger.
Inside the mind of this peculiar guy, there was an urge to find something and get out of there, and while the blood dripped down his body, ruining his clothes, and to the floor, he sighed relieved. The pain is not real, the blood is not real, the cat is not real, only the house, him, his desires, especially his desire to leave.
With hands on the neck, the man arrives on the second floor,
The man began to feel a lump in his throat, and just like that he fell and began to cry, maybe because he missed his brothers and sisters, but not even I know the exact reason. The tears flowed like a river, like an old cartoon where a character floods a room by crying. That’s exactly what was happening. He felt the salty water burn his neck like a spreading fire growing higher and more painful each second until… a gentle feeling of relief, the man opened his eyes and to his surprise the water disappeared, and so did his injury, the man had been holding his emotions back for so long they almost drowned him, but the pain of returning had finally ceased, and so he continued his journey.
The man was feeling better, it could be even said he was feeling optimistic while going up the stairs the man began to dance, first, it was jazz, then tap, then disco, a lot of songs, albums, and bands came to his head, filling him with joy, but the thing that resonated more in his head was a waltz, raised his arms like he was holding an invisible partner and began to dance slowly, but the music became louder, the song increased the speed, this time, the challenge was to remember the steps he once had perfectly performed and not fail and fall down the stairs, the last thing he wanted is to start over again, while he danced like a marionette and his head felt like a balloon about to pop an idea came to his mind, remember with how many woman he had danced that very same song, he managed to remember some faces and names, but none that he actually cared about, he trips. He paid so much attention to himself, which led to his imaginary friend to leave, that feeling, he remembered her face for a split second, his one and only.
The music stops and so does him, he ends up facing a window, and the daylight magically paints a small table with a picture in it, It is him and his wife, the man remembers her, his children, the divorce, their son’s bad decisions, remembered jail, remembered death, remembered his name, he knew anything you could desire to know, your memories are nothing compared to this man's, and so he had finally gained his life back, now he couldn't understand why he was in a rush to get out of there, there was nothing to be ashamed or afraid of, he approached the window and opened it, the sun on his face, the smell of the wind, he was free to do whatever he wanted without guilt, without sadness, but without anyone to share it with.
The journey was over, it should have been easy for him to just leave by the front door, but he couldn't, There was still something he regretted, there was still a thorn in his heart, there was still a cloud on his mind.
With a stupid smile and his eyes glued to the sky he laughed, the tempting nightmare had finally come to an end, nothing to fight for anymore, the only thing he retrieved from that damned house were just memories of a failed life.
And so, he jumped.
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Squidmanescape (talk) 07:36, 10 October 2023 (UTC)[]
I hope I can help, and that this is helpful.
I like writing stories in the past tense, but you have to write it with one "main" tense which describes what's happening in the present of the story as opposed to before or after the story. Your story keeps alternating between the past and present tense, so I rewrote it in the present tense because I think it works for this story - it's basically a single unbroken event.
I also added some words which I thought were needed, and I changed some of the commas into periods because I feel like sentences which have too many verbs and no conjunctions should be split into multiple sentences. I added sentences in (parentheses and bold) where I don't know what to do.
As for story things, I am afraid I am misunderstanding something, but I will critique it from my position of misunderstanding.
I feel like throughout most of the story, the experiences in the house are the man's hallucinations, where a cat can take a good chunk out of your throat, and your tears can fill a room, and the sunlight can paint a table in the room. So, not real experiences.
But the house treated like a real place, one where jumping has an obvious connotation of suicide by falling from a high place.
I think the story works this way, because it's the only way which makes sense to me according to what I said above:
A man is hallucinating and has forgotten who he is. He goes to his old house, and is so focused on his house that he doesn't notice anything around the house. His understanding of the world is warped, so he hallucinates the interactions with the cat and in the rooms. Even though his experiences in the house are dubious, the house itself is real. Then he remembers who he is. He jumps out of the window and falls to his (real) death.
I think the idea itself, of a man who can't even see reality and kills himself, is pretty existentially terrifying. I feel like there is an implication that the man is a medicated schizophrenic person and knows the hallucinations are not real, but is still affected by them because of the incompetence of the medicine.
I could be wrong. I'd honestly like feedback on my feedback.
I was confused by the ending at first, but then I realized that I missed the important fact that the house is real even if the experiences are not. So the cat doesn't have real consequences and neither do the tears and neither do the dance partners, but jumping does because the man is using his physical body to jump from the physical house.
I tried to mitigate this by having the house be the start of a sentence, but I think the issue is that it seems like the man, who is an unreliable narrator, is explaining this. Therefore, the audience doesn't trust this legitimate information any more than we trust his experience with the cat or the tears. You can probably better indicate this isn't the case by having them be different paragraphs.
Overall, I think the story had and has flaws. One issue I tried to fix was how many commas it used, to the point that information was difficult for me to decipher. Maybe other people don't have this problem with commas. Overall, the fact that the man is not in his right mind makes a lot of the strange feelings more understandable to me. I feel like the way he "sighed relieved" when the cat bit him and his "stupid smile" upon seeing the sky both serve very specific purposes.
Overall, I hope what I said and did was helpful. If I understand the story correctly, I think it is pretty interesting and unusual. I hope you can work on it and submit it.
The Edited Story:
From an outdated vehicle a man comes out, he arrives, appearing tired and annoyed. He takes a quick look over his shoulder and shakes his head. Something has him distracted. The place this old geezer is standing on could be considered a desert, with no life or signs of human constructions, except for a house. New? Old? Neither. A three-story building, marble facade, and jade frames make a timeless piece of art, or at least it would be one if it wasn’t so horribly built.
Without a second to waste the man enters the building, no fear can be seen in his face, and the predominant emotion is still annoyance.
The first thing the house does is to greet him with a cat, who bites his throat and takes a good chunk out of it. The man's face contorts in pain for a brief moment, but then changes to disappointment. That is something he didn't expect, but it isn't enough to make him feel in danger.
Inside the mind of this peculiar guy, there is an urge to find something and get out of there, and while the blood drips down his body, ruining his clothes, and to the floor, he sighs relieved. (I feel like if you separated the two sides of this into different paragraphs, it would be more likely that we would believe the second part.)The pain is not real, the blood is not real, the cat is not real. Only the house, him, his desires, especially his desire to leave, are real.
With his hands on his neck, the man arrives on the second floor. (Did you put a paragraph here deliberately?)
The man begins to feel a lump in his throat, and just like that he falls and begins to cry, maybe because he misses his brothers and sisters, but not even I know the exact reason. The tears flow like a river, like an old cartoon where a character floods a room by crying, that’s exactly what is happening. He feels the salty water burn his neck like a spreading fire growing higher and more painful each second until… a gentle feeling of relief, the man opens his eyes and to his surprise the water disappeared, and so did his injury. The man had been holding his emotions back for so long they almost drowned him, but the pain of returning has finally ceased, and so he continues his journey.
The man is feeling better, it could be even said he's feeling optimistic. While going up the stairs the man began to dance, first, it's jazz, then tap, then disco, a lot of songs, albums, and bands came to his head, filling him with joy, but the thing that resonates more in his head is a waltz. He raises his arms like he's holding an invisible partner and begins to dance slowly, but the music becomes louder, the song increases in speed. This time, the challenge is to remember the steps he once had perfectly performed and not fail and fall down the stairs, the last thing he wants is to start over again. While he dances like a marionette and his head feels like a balloon about to pop an idea comes to his mind, remember with how many woman he danced to that very same song. He manages to remember some faces and names, but none that he actually cares about. He trips. He paid so much attention to himself, which led his imaginary friend to leave. That feeling, he remembers her face for a split second, his one and only.
The music stops and so does he. He ends up facing a window, and the daylight magically paints a small table with a picture in it, It is him and his wife. The man remembers her, his children, the divorce, their son’s bad decisions, remembers jail, remembers death, remembers his name, he knows anything you could desire to know, your memories are nothing compared to this man's, and so he has finally gained his life back. Now he can't understand why he was in a rush to get out of there, there's nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. He approaches the window and opens it, the sun on his face, the smell of the wind, he is free to do whatever he wants without guilt, without sadness, but without anyone to share it with.
The journey is over, it should be easy for him to just leave by the front door, but he can't. There is still something he regrets, there is still a thorn in his heart, there is still a cloud on his mind.
With a stupid smile and his eyes glued to the sky he laughs, the tempting nightmare has finally come to an end, nothing to fight for anymore, the only things he's retrieved from that damned house were just memories of a failed life.
And so, he jumps.