/lit/ - Literature

Also to the person who sent me the link for the shakespeare fanfiction if you see this could you resend it? I lost it, sorry!

>Shakespeare fanfiction

>>1722777
Do you have something to share?

>>1722753
>Shakespeare Fanfiction
This is no way to start a decent thread.

Relax, OPs probably just thinking of Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. You know, good Shakespeare fanficiton

>>1722797
Please do not post in the thread unless you want to share stories/poems. This is not a discussion thread, unless we are discussing a piece someone has shared. Also, please, only constructive critiques.

>>1722804
No, I have not read any. There was a link to a story posted last night, and I am trying to regain the link. all styles are appreciated.

>>1722809
Alright, I understand. I'll see if I can write something up so I can get some critique on my writing. Could you give me two nouns, a concept, a setting, and one word of choice?
Let's see if I can make a short story out of that.

>>1722817
Oh and by concept I mean anything like a genre, an idea, a field of study, a concept of morality, etc.

>>1722817
While all styles are appreciated, I am more interested in work that has had a substantial amount of effort put into it. While I am not saying that all "flash fiction" is bullshit, most certainly is. Especially when I need to feed you ideas, especially when you are writing it specifically for this thread. If you have anything that you've been working on for a while, it would be much appreciated.

im going to write something RIGHT NOW for you

>>1722828
I get it. I wasn't sure if it was going to be flash fiction or if I'd just take a day or two to write something really short. I really need to do some writing though so I'll probably be off then, see if I can share something in a week or so. I can hardly stand the slowness of /lit/ anyway.

By all means, post what you please, but I will treat whatever is given me with the same effort and respect that I can see went into it.

>>1722835
That sounds great.

Gassy gasps rumbled inside his intestines. Marble countertops and steel faucets gleamed under mirrors free of spots. The stall's door didn't even squeak when it opened. Its stainless steel handle and deadbolt were free of rust, dirt, and sweaty smudges of fingerprints.

And no first flush needed. This stall's cleanliness, the absence of marks of others before him, soothed him. The white toilet stood ready. Unbuckled belt, unzipped zipper, pants crumpled down onto the shoes. He squatted. His head bent down to the tile. Soft brown and black diamonds lay in neat patterns against the larger off-white squares.

His struggle began. So often a struggle, with grunts and groans signifying each victory or defeat in the battles against his troubled digestive tract.

Little bubbles of sweat break to the surface of his face. Pale knuckles clutch at his pants.

The barely-audible swish of the door announces someone coming in. His torso relaxes, his thighs tighten. A tiny spot of shame blooms in his chest. He is not alone, and they must smell the two pitifully small wet farts he just forced out.

A long, quiet moment passes. He straightens up some on his seat. The silence has a feeling to it. There are no footfalls approaching the urinals. No shuffling pants legs. No trickle of urine splashes against porcelain.

A whisper of sliding metal is punctuated by a quiet click. It sounds like the visitor has locked the bathroom door.

He cocks his head to the side. His bottom lip curls up and his eyebrows press down. Fear changes the lighting. The soft orange hues glow seedy.

Now he hears the distinctive squeak of sneakers on the tile. They appear directly in front of his stall, red with black stripes. He leans back to dubiously eye the cross trainers and jeans.

A knock sounds against the door. His belly clenches. His face goes slack. The sound reaches his mind after a long journey through the ears.

>>1722843
"Hi," the voice says.

"Uh."

"I need your phone."

"Uhh?"

"C'mon. I only need it a sec, gimme your phone man," it pleads.

"What?" He yelps. "What the hell do you think you're--"

The bash against the door bursts in the tiny space like a small apocalypse. The door quivers from the blow, and a harsh vibrato hum echoes in the stall. Another slam shakes the frame and side panels. The body jerks upright and he almost falls into the water beneath him. Arms swing wildly to catch himself.

"Gimme your phone!" Frustrated and hungry.

"Why are you doing this!?" A howl of resentment.

Again the door leaps inward and the sound shatters the air around him.

"Gimme your fucking phone!"

Whimpering, he reaches into a pocket. Wrong pocket, only his wallet and keys. And another crash. He snatches his cell phone out and flings it under the door. It smacks against the wall and lies untouched.

Fists begin drumming along the wall, moving with the feet to the side of the stall.

He presses his hands to his temples and his face scrunches up. A sob and a scream battle inside his chest to escape and come out together.

"Now your wallet," the voice commands over the fists pounding.

His fist in his mouth, he shakes his head repeatedly. The drumming thrums to a crescendo and ends.

"Your wallet, asshole!"

He can see one foot rise this time and knows the kick is coming. The wall booms, the stall rattles. He tightens into a ball, pressing his torso to his knees.

A long pause. The still calm chews on his nerves. Simmering in his own sweat.

>>1722844
The knife leaps in and out the stall from the gap in between floor and black panel. Before it's even made sense in his mind the steel has slipped through his khakis and into his shin.

"Jesus christ!" He screams as his legs jig to avoid the blade jabbing at his calves.

"Gimme your fucking wallet! Just gimme your money, you dumbfuck!"

"Noooo!" He cries out as tears cascade down his cheeks.

He lifts his legs higher and the weapon follows in manic lunges upward. Snatching his pants legs up to his thighs, the man digs his wallet out of the back pocket. He hurls it to the feet of his assailant. The wallet slides past them and bumps into the wall.

The knife is gone.

In the gap he sees a hand reach down to grab the leather. The sneakers disappear.

"Thanks! Have a good one." The voice quips from the front of the restroom.

He hears the lock click back and the door swish open.

He looked down. The rim of the toilet was smeared with feces, and he could feel it glazed across his asscheeks. His hands had shit on them, which he had transferred in the struggle to his pants and their pockets. Weeping, he reached for the toilet paper.

I've been working on this short, if anyone has any suggestions for improvement:

http://www.scribd.com/doc/53713632/In-the-Name-of-the-Father

>>1722843
The ambiguity of the weeping is a nice touch. The only part that I would consider changing is how clean the urinal is. I don't see how it fits in, and it seems like it should because it's somewhat unrealistic.

>>1722848
it shows me a blank document, sorry

>>1722856
Sanctity. Cleanliness is next to godliness. Unrealistic.

whats the best place to upload short stories and the like for blogging/feedback?

A group of huge, ancient oak trees stand looming and lopsided in a parkland, huddled together over their grassy foothold, lurching and crackling with splintered bark. A fierce, paroxysmal spear of light from the rising sun in the east screams spear-like from the sun, directly at a solitary, downward-hung leaf and strikes the wavering frailty. Unmoved though now luminescent, the leaf fends the spear away which now shatters into an infinite multitude of chaotic refractions, lighting first the entire parkland in a fraction of a second and then the garden within which it is withheld, then the city of which in that the garden exists. The complete envelopment of the city in light is hindered only by those great oak trees, those protuberant malignant oak trees that cast huge and ominous shadows all about and amidst each other, as if hiding something.

>>1723065

A crow circumvents overhead, intrigued by a peculiar opening in the centre of the top of the trees. As it draws near to the entry, his curiosity is exacerbated; an enticing smell of food pulls him further in.
Reaching the bottom, the crow perches on a root that jars violently from the underground intertwining of a nearby oak – not for long, however; there are more desirable locations in this pit of darkness.
Cackling malevolently in the way crows do, he lifts off and flies all but two metres ahead, choosing softer ground; and with black wings fluttering with hungry fervour, the crow picks and gnashes at the dislodged jugular of a young, dead girl.

>>1723068

and thats all so far

>>1723071

ima bump once for potential feedback

>>1722996

deviantArt

>>1723068
>>1723065
Horrible. Absolute shit. Your words are meaningless, they are there for no reason at all.

Try poetry instead.

>>1723113

that sucks :( can you give me some examples of why you think that

>>1723115
Start from the beginning and then read every word. These are the ones that shouldn't be there.

Seriously, just write poetry. You're mind is likely too far poisoned against writing mindful prose, judging by your writing sample, but you are just lyrical enough that you might find more fulfillment in poetry.

>>1723126

i appreciate that you're giving me some feedback, but telling me that every word is wrong seems retarded, especially if you say i'm potentially lyrical enough to write poetry. can you tell me why each individual word is for whatever reason unappealing?

and what do you mean by my mind is too "poisoned against mindful prose"?

>>1723113

Please don't try poetry either, at least until you've got the thesaurus out of your arse.

>>1723129
At any other time I would but it is passed 4 in the morning where I am right now. If this thread is here when I wake up I will give it another look.

For now reread what you wrote and I mean really look, with scrutiny, at every single word and its meaning, not just if it sounds right. Then, examine your phrases on the whole level, does what I am writing make any sense? How does it help the reader to understand what I am trying to say, what image or message I am trying to convey? Is is redundant, is there a better way to say it?

Writing is more than just being able to put words together, it is about using words effectively.

If you are adamant, and want to improve your writing no matter what, join a school paper or just read a lot of news articles, writing your own in emulation. What you need to do, above all, is learn that words have meaning and uses in order to balance out your currently over embellished style.

As an aside, I get the feeling you are still in High School, is that the case?

>>1723142

i finished high school last year, but I haven't written anything since.

maybe I spent too much time working on my vocabulary than my writing abilities... though I didn't use a thesaurus for that piece of writing I do see what you mean by over embellishment.

thank you for the critique!