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Periphrasis
Periphrasis
Indulge in fables before focusing on the real issues.
0Literary fiction
Ren (United States)
The heavens were in mayhem. Two goddesses, created by humanity, were in discord with each other. Their quarrel had cause chaos to wreck a peaceful realm. Lightning had crashed in a field; blood had rained from the sky. The goddesses were out for dolor.
A priest had tried to soothe the clash, but it was to no avail. He had lost his power to soothe the gods. Those stubborn deities had simply disregarded the churchman, his punishments never reaching their sacred forms. They continued their feud, tearing apart the land.
Two villages of progeny had divided, each choosing a side to worship, each praying that this strife would end. They waged a war to prove loyalty, but it only added to the desolation. No one was spared from the woe, not daemon or cherub. As the destruction grew and grew, it was obvious that there needed to be change, for the deities were unyielding in their vendetta.
In an attempt to please the goddesses and revolutionize their nature, the villages had fabricated a solution; they would offer a sacrifice, a being to strike to divert the deities from their fray. And, without as much as meditating their decision, the crazed villages had chosen a scapegoat.
Ah, yes, it is he. The lamb that was selected had no sins on his back, not one burden of transgression, yet the villages had come together in a phony pact to punish their whipping boy. Everything was slowly slipping into anarchy. As the priest tried to halt the raving villager’s immorality, he was trampled and retired.
The goddesses simply laughed at the lamb’s plight, “Yes, yes, we simply eat up his terror. Give us more!” The mortals cried with joy, tearing apart the lamb’s clothes, ripping into his flesh. Red, red, red stained the lamb’s white wool until it seeped into black.
“Someone, anyone, save me!” wailed the lamb to the corrupted beings. He held his head as the children kicked him in their flawed wish for peace. His sobs festered into despair, the crescendo of hysteria never faltering.
The torment continued as the villagers took the blood from the lamb, day after day. The artificial goddesses drank up his fluid, turning the ichor to crude oil. He was imprisoned in this cycle of harmony among the pugnacious progeny, his life for their equanimity.
One day, when the lamb was lamenting his misfortune, a shining figure approached him. She was dressed in satin and ivory, pure and heavenly. She was not ignorant to the abuse of the pitiful lamb, however.
“Ah, poor little lamb, such a sweet, pathetic child. You had appeased those unholy shams, but at what cost?” The words held such gentleness and affection. The lamb drank up the warmth, not caring of the covert repercussions. “Once you have passed the tribulations humanity has bestowed upon you, God shall grant you a reward.”
With such a tender smile and benevolent persona, the lamb was faithful to her sermon. In that moment, he took his savior’s hand and looked into her beautiful eyes. He surely thought: this is an angel; disregarding the odious, black wings that were prospering behind her.
His trial was to climb to the apex of the land and cross the barrier to heaven. His boon would be presented in good faith, a chance at retribution. The lamb was burning with yearning, fervent for his pure recompense in the form of incorrigible vengeance.
“If you pass this test,” The angel spoke as the lamb climbed upward, step by step, “I assure you, the villages will burn.” No longer driven by honeyed words, the lamb persisted in his trial, following the foolish path carved by his never-ending suffering.
Seeing his unbroken determination, the angel had left the boy. She had shed her empyrean veil and returned to her position in the village. The false angel was apathetic toward both the spurious goddesses, and she simply wished to see raw pandemonium ensue. She smiled her heavenly smile and hummed, “Oh, wretched, sinless lamb. I cannot wait to swill on the misery,” a goddess in the making.
She watched as her lamb approached the edge of the apex, his bijou frame open for all to see. As he stepped toward the barrier that separated him from heaven, villagers and priests crowded down below. They wailed, “Stop! Stop!” Their scapegoat was about to be wasted.
The black lamb gazed down upon the compeers who had all turned against him. He let out a chuckle of contempt as he walked off the edge, whispering one last request. As he fell, the kind lamb lambasted the system of cruelty, praying, “If at one time, another soul is subjected to treatment like mine, I wish for him to follow a better path and escape his affliction…
“… I wish for him to end up differently from me.”
Not a soul had heard his wish, for God was no longer watching. As he fell through the air, he watched as the door of hell opened for him, knowing fully that the angel was a liar. He closed his eyes and accepted the end of his torment, forgetting the reward he was promised.
The false angel did not forget, however. The villages will burn. She watched through her fake tears as the children around her scrambled, weeping and crazed. No one had wanted the lamb to end like he did; no one had wished for this mayhem. Even the goddesses, in all their fading glory, mourned for such a loss. The false angel had not.
She simply fabricated her cries, pretending to know of the boy’s nature reduced to twisted carnage on the dry ground. “He was a friend!” She lied. “He was my friend!” She laughed, hiding her intent with tears.
The ambulances arrived, taking the lamb away. A corpse reunited with his ignorant parents in the schoolyard. The false angel gave her condolences and waved a goodbye as the police drove away, the adults confused by the wreckage.
With the fallen goddesses and departed priests, the villages of progeny were in turmoil. No one was there to lead the foolish peasants, lost in their balance for peace and bloodshed. The fallen angel smiled. This would be her coup d’état to power.
A scandalous ploy starting with two children “goddesses” ended as a tragedy. As the new “goddess”, the false “angel” had delivered on her promise to the departed “lamb”. The “villages” were ablaze with chaos; as such school children were unsure how to deal with the death of the “lamb” they all knew yet willingly harassed.
A boy who died as a useless martyr, his final wish was never granted.
A priest had tried to soothe the clash, but it was to no avail. He had lost his power to soothe the gods. Those stubborn deities had simply disregarded the churchman, his punishments never reaching their sacred forms. They continued their feud, tearing apart the land.
Two villages of progeny had divided, each choosing a side to worship, each praying that this strife would end. They waged a war to prove loyalty, but it only added to the desolation. No one was spared from the woe, not daemon or cherub. As the destruction grew and grew, it was obvious that there needed to be change, for the deities were unyielding in their vendetta.
In an attempt to please the goddesses and revolutionize their nature, the villages had fabricated a solution; they would offer a sacrifice, a being to strike to divert the deities from their fray. And, without as much as meditating their decision, the crazed villages had chosen a scapegoat.
Ah, yes, it is he. The lamb that was selected had no sins on his back, not one burden of transgression, yet the villages had come together in a phony pact to punish their whipping boy. Everything was slowly slipping into anarchy. As the priest tried to halt the raving villager’s immorality, he was trampled and retired.
The goddesses simply laughed at the lamb’s plight, “Yes, yes, we simply eat up his terror. Give us more!” The mortals cried with joy, tearing apart the lamb’s clothes, ripping into his flesh. Red, red, red stained the lamb’s white wool until it seeped into black.
“Someone, anyone, save me!” wailed the lamb to the corrupted beings. He held his head as the children kicked him in their flawed wish for peace. His sobs festered into despair, the crescendo of hysteria never faltering.
The torment continued as the villagers took the blood from the lamb, day after day. The artificial goddesses drank up his fluid, turning the ichor to crude oil. He was imprisoned in this cycle of harmony among the pugnacious progeny, his life for their equanimity.
One day, when the lamb was lamenting his misfortune, a shining figure approached him. She was dressed in satin and ivory, pure and heavenly. She was not ignorant to the abuse of the pitiful lamb, however.
“Ah, poor little lamb, such a sweet, pathetic child. You had appeased those unholy shams, but at what cost?” The words held such gentleness and affection. The lamb drank up the warmth, not caring of the covert repercussions. “Once you have passed the tribulations humanity has bestowed upon you, God shall grant you a reward.”
With such a tender smile and benevolent persona, the lamb was faithful to her sermon. In that moment, he took his savior’s hand and looked into her beautiful eyes. He surely thought: this is an angel; disregarding the odious, black wings that were prospering behind her.
His trial was to climb to the apex of the land and cross the barrier to heaven. His boon would be presented in good faith, a chance at retribution. The lamb was burning with yearning, fervent for his pure recompense in the form of incorrigible vengeance.
“If you pass this test,” The angel spoke as the lamb climbed upward, step by step, “I assure you, the villages will burn.” No longer driven by honeyed words, the lamb persisted in his trial, following the foolish path carved by his never-ending suffering.
Seeing his unbroken determination, the angel had left the boy. She had shed her empyrean veil and returned to her position in the village. The false angel was apathetic toward both the spurious goddesses, and she simply wished to see raw pandemonium ensue. She smiled her heavenly smile and hummed, “Oh, wretched, sinless lamb. I cannot wait to swill on the misery,” a goddess in the making.
She watched as her lamb approached the edge of the apex, his bijou frame open for all to see. As he stepped toward the barrier that separated him from heaven, villagers and priests crowded down below. They wailed, “Stop! Stop!” Their scapegoat was about to be wasted.
The black lamb gazed down upon the compeers who had all turned against him. He let out a chuckle of contempt as he walked off the edge, whispering one last request. As he fell, the kind lamb lambasted the system of cruelty, praying, “If at one time, another soul is subjected to treatment like mine, I wish for him to follow a better path and escape his affliction…
“… I wish for him to end up differently from me.”
Not a soul had heard his wish, for God was no longer watching. As he fell through the air, he watched as the door of hell opened for him, knowing fully that the angel was a liar. He closed his eyes and accepted the end of his torment, forgetting the reward he was promised.
The false angel did not forget, however. The villages will burn. She watched through her fake tears as the children around her scrambled, weeping and crazed. No one had wanted the lamb to end like he did; no one had wished for this mayhem. Even the goddesses, in all their fading glory, mourned for such a loss. The false angel had not.
She simply fabricated her cries, pretending to know of the boy’s nature reduced to twisted carnage on the dry ground. “He was a friend!” She lied. “He was my friend!” She laughed, hiding her intent with tears.
The ambulances arrived, taking the lamb away. A corpse reunited with his ignorant parents in the schoolyard. The false angel gave her condolences and waved a goodbye as the police drove away, the adults confused by the wreckage.
With the fallen goddesses and departed priests, the villages of progeny were in turmoil. No one was there to lead the foolish peasants, lost in their balance for peace and bloodshed. The fallen angel smiled. This would be her coup d’état to power.
A scandalous ploy starting with two children “goddesses” ended as a tragedy. As the new “goddess”, the false “angel” had delivered on her promise to the departed “lamb”. The “villages” were ablaze with chaos; as such school children were unsure how to deal with the death of the “lamb” they all knew yet willingly harassed.
A boy who died as a useless martyr, his final wish was never granted.
Read Reviews
Review 1:
Compelling hook?
Fresh?
Strong characters?
Entertaining?
Attention to mechanics
- The grammar, typography, sentence structure and punctuation would benefit from a further round of editing to avoid distracting from the quality of the story.
Narration and dialogue: Balance
- Your story struck a good balance between narration and authentic dialogue.
Narration and dialogue: Authentic voice
- Your characters’ voices were convincing and authentic.
Characterization
- Make sure your characters are multidimensional. Do they have strengths and weaknesses? Mere mortals make the most interesting stories because they are like you and me and we are able to empathize with their journey. That’s how the connection with a character is formed.
Main character
- Connect us to your main protagonist with a deeper characterization. Could your protagonist have a few more distinguishing character traits?
Character conflict
- Your characters drew me into their world from the very beginning. Their goals and conflicts were clearly conveyed.
Plot and pace
- Maintaining the right pace and sustaining the reader’s interest is a difficult balancing act. Are you sure all the material is relevant to the plot, setting and atmosphere? Make sure each sentence makes sense to the reader, and each paragraph moves their experience forward.
Suspense and conflict
- The joy of reading often lies in the element of suspense prompted by internal or external conflicts. The build-up was intriguing and I felt the tension mounting with each word.
Technique and tight writing
- When writing is tight, economical and each word has purpose, it enables the plot to unravel clearly. Try and make each individual word count.
Point of view
- The story successfully solicited the reader’s empathy through the clever use of the narrator's point of view. You show great deftness in handling point of view.
Style and originality
- I loved your fresh approach. Creating a unique writing style while maintaining quality of prose requires both skill and practice.
Atmosphere and description
- Your story was a feast for the senses. The atmosphere wrapped itself around me and transported me onto the page alongside your characters.
Authentic and vivid setting
- The setting was realistic and vivid. The characters’ mood and emotions were conveyed successfully through the believable setting.
Opening line, paragraph and hook
- Your strong opening was a promise of wonderful things to come!
General comments from your fellow writer 1:
I enjoy your mythological approach to this short story. It is descriptive and passionate. If you were to revise this, I would suggest that you look at character development to help with your clarity.Review 2:
Compelling hook?
Fresh?
Strong characters?
Entertaining?
Attention to mechanics
- The grammar, typography, sentence structure and punctuation would benefit from a further round of editing to avoid distracting from the quality of the story.
Narration and dialogue: Balance
- Your story struck a good balance between narration and authentic dialogue.
Narration and dialogue: Authentic voice
- The protagonist didn’t always respond believably against the backdrop of the story. Ask yourself if people would really answer to a situation in that way. Think about whether the characters’ voices could be more convincing for their age, background, gender, time period, genre, gender and ethnicity. Dialogue should be natural and consistent throughout the story.
Characterization
- Make sure your characters are multidimensional. Do they have strengths and weaknesses? Mere mortals make the most interesting stories because they are like you and me and we are able to empathize with their journey. That’s how the connection with a character is formed.
Main character
- Connect us to your main protagonist with a deeper characterization. Could your protagonist have a few more distinguishing character traits?
Character conflict
- The reader’s experience of the story is heightened when the characters’ goals, conflicts and purpose are clear. Perhaps giving this aspect of the story further attention could be worthwhile.
Plot and pace
- Maintaining the right pace and sustaining the reader’s interest is a challenging balancing act. The story had a clear and coherent progression with a structured plot.
Suspense and conflict
- The joy of reading often lies in the element of suspense prompted by internal or external conflicts. Think about the conflict and tension in your story. How effectively has it been introduced?
Technique and tight writing
- The writing was tight and economical and each word had purpose. This enabled the plot to unravel clearly. Your writing exhibits technical proficiency.
Point of view
- The story successfully solicited the reader’s empathy through the clever use of the narrator's point of view. You show great deftness in handling point of view.
Style and originality
- I loved your fresh approach. Creating a unique writing style while maintaining quality of prose requires both skill and practice.
Atmosphere and description
- A writer’s ability to create mood and atmosphere through evocative description is vital to the reader’s experience. It’s a real skill to craft out how the characters react to the setting and atmosphere and perhaps your story could go further in its description. The reader wants to experience the same sensory and poignant journey as the characters.
Authentic and vivid setting
- The scene needs to be vivid and realistic in order to hold the reader’s attention. Being concise and plausible at the same time is tricky. Giving this further attention could perhaps be worthwhile.
Opening line, paragraph and hook
- Great stories, nowadays, start with a powerful opening line and compelling hook in order to keep the reader engaged. Have you baited the reader enough?
General comments from your fellow writer 2:
Your ideas are extremely intelligent - perhaps too intelligent. You use wonderful language and sophisticated vocabulary throughout. However, I thought, at time, the vocabulary was a little two sophisticated and often interfered with the meaning of the story.Review 3:
Compelling hook?
Fresh?
Strong characters?
Entertaining?
Attention to mechanics
- The grammar, typography, sentence structure and punctuation would benefit from a further round of editing to avoid distracting from the quality of the story.
Narration and dialogue: Balance
- Your story struck a good balance between narration and authentic dialogue.
Narration and dialogue: Authentic voice
- Your characters’ voices were convincing and authentic.
Characterization
- Your characters were multidimensional. I found them believable and engaging and they genuinely responded to the events of the story.
Main character
- Connect us to your main protagonist with a deeper characterization. Could your protagonist have a few more distinguishing character traits?
Character conflict
- Your characters drew me into their world from the very beginning. Their goals and conflicts were clearly conveyed.
Plot and pace
- Maintaining the right pace and sustaining the reader’s interest is a challenging balancing act. The story had a clear and coherent progression with a structured plot.
Suspense and conflict
- The joy of reading often lies in the element of suspense prompted by internal or external conflicts. The build-up was intriguing and I felt the tension mounting with each word.
Technique and tight writing
- The writing was tight and economical and each word had purpose. This enabled the plot to unravel clearly. Your writing exhibits technical proficiency.
Point of view
- The story successfully solicited the reader’s empathy through the clever use of the narrator's point of view. You show great deftness in handling point of view.
Style and originality
- I loved your fresh approach. Creating a unique writing style while maintaining quality of prose requires both skill and practice.
Atmosphere and description
- Your story was a feast for the senses. The atmosphere wrapped itself around me and transported me onto the page alongside your characters.
Authentic and vivid setting
- The setting was realistic and vivid. The characters’ mood and emotions were conveyed successfully through the believable setting.