Static

Street lamps and lights from buildings in the distance flash past,
a tribute to modern technology.
From behind a tinted window,
I watch the world speed by,
thinking about how I'm nothing but
another speck of lies wrapped in flesh.

Nothing sounds quite like the rumble and hum of the car's engine
mixed with the static voice of a man preaching God on the radio,
while an ambulance sounds it's death alarm somewhere in
the night surrounding us.

Billboards approach and pass with thier peeling advertisements,
while a crooked sign indicates that we're way below the speed limit
on this snow choked highway.

For a moment, I pray for a collision.
Tires sliding without any intention of stopping
on ice as black as the death that will follow.
A scream of metal twisting, breaks crying out,
people denying pathetically that it's happening,

[ohmygod this isn't happening!]

But nothing like that happens;
the wheels keep turning,
and we keep pressing froward through the curtains.

If I could only predict...

I've seen a thousand shades of night before but none quite like this.
Darker than the soul of the devil,
more bitter than Snow White's poisoned apple,
a starless wonder death of day,

[He says so many things,
but does he practice what he preaches?]

A sudden stop on a dime,
the seatbelt burns my skin as it grows taut when my body lurches forward,
head slams into the dashboard and feel the knife of pain pierce me in the
form of a concussion-to-be; and I'm thrown into the door.
There's a squeal and scream and for a moment,
I feel weightless, and then come down hard,
organs sliding to one side then the other,
hands pressed to the roof and window before
it shatters under my palm,

I'm completely unable to register the turning and flipping of
the four-wheeled deathtrap, and for a moment,
everything goes

silent.

Everything goes

dark.

Wake up...

We stop and breathe and cars drive past and stare,
slowing down to see who might have died,
speeding up again when all seems helpless.

Heartbeat loud enough to drown out a train,
I clutch my broken head in an attempt to
stop the thoughts from leaking out.

[There's a hole in my head, my god, there's a hole in my head...]

I peer through the windshield only to become blinded
by vertical headlights,

the other car.

[Ask Him for forgiveness,
and Heavens Gates you shall enter]

The static crackles, becomes louder,

an alarm is blarring and I hear
a shrieking siren from somewhere
in the ever-shrinking dark,

and I realize blood is rushing to my head, weighing it down,
my body feels upside down, pain starting to eminate from
every possible place,
and then I become aware that

we are indeed the antithesis of going-to-be-fine.

[He...asks.....
nothing...
don't.....fear.....death....
is... unavoidable...
he'll... forgives... nothing...
hell...
awaits....]

And the radio screams at an unimaginable octave
and then emits nothing but silence,
and, once again, all I hear is
the hiss and tick of the car's engine
mixed with the static noise of incoming unconsciousness,
while death whispers softly, beckoning,
in the night surrounding us.

Author's Note

I don't know what to say about this.
I had nothing really in mind but the beginning when I started writing it,
and it just turned out this way in the end...

I'm not completely happy with it yet, and I will be tweaking it over a period of time... but tell me what you think anyway...

Reviews

[Lukas]

So I suppose I could begin my review with looking at the work stylistically, making my comments as per that domain. Then afterwards, I'll look at the work itself, including the plot, structure, symbolism, and literary devices.

Now stylistically, I do have a few comments, most of them over menial things; there are not many, but nonetheless they must be said. You create the allusion to Snow White about one-third of the way through the story, which works nicely on it's own; however, again, I'm not sure how the allusion ties itself into the plot. If it doesn't, it's just left hanging there, useless and empty. Perhaps I just don't get it, and if not I apologise; if that is not the case, however, I may suggest changing the line to something that fits with the rest of the story (consider: it fits no discernable pattern thematically, symbolically, or linguistically).
Two paragraphs later, you say that there was "A sudden stop on a dime." However, the correct expression is a "turn" on a dime, not a "stop"... and in addition, if there was a sudden halt of motion, why did the crash continue? This phrase might be better rewritten, solely for the sake of sensibility.
Orthographically, I could only find one error, at the bottom of the first page (I printed the story), "an alarm is blarring [sic]", supposed to be "blaring" :)
Lastly, in the final paragraph: in the first line, you use the term "octave" to describe the tone of something; however, an octave is a series of tones in rising or lowering succession, following a specific tonal interval. I suggest using a different word here. Also, the first three lines both begin with the word "and", which can sometimes be effective but here is only cumbersome; therefore, i suggest fixing the syntax of that final, long sentance in order for it to flow a little easier. However, the prolix of that final paragraph, in my opinion, works and adds to the melancholy of the ending, so if you so choose, I suggest ensuring that aspect of the end remains. And finally, in the third to last line, the word "incoming" and the subsequent "unconsciousness" create an undesirable assonance of the first syllables... it sounds awkward, in my opinion, so again, my suggestion is to either change the syntax or the word itself.

So the story begins, and right away we become aware that the main (and only) character of the story is in some sort of vehicle, eventually becoming clear to be a car, and the character feels (at best) down on his/herself at the time ("thinking about how I'm nothing but another speck of lies wrapped in flesh", for example). The city feels old, decrepit, and the author (**note: I will alternate between the use of the terms "the author" and "you" without reason, and for my inconsistency I apologise**) uses this to her advantage by invoking pathetic fallacy- that is, the surroundings of a character represent the inner emotions of said person; this, for the most part, works subtly and beautifully. However, although some parts were written well, they simply do not add to the story or any conceptual devices. Consider the "tribute to modern technology": this may help to set the atmosphere of the story, but it does so in such a way that we do not /really/ need to know this... it becomes superfluous, if you will. My suggestion to you is to either include this into your use of pathetic fallacy, or just in the general sense, include the notion of lights off in the distance later on in the story... in other words, make it worth something.
If I may go off on a tangent for a second, when writing stories or poetry that is as concise as yours, think about what Anton Chekov said when asked about his plays: "If there is a gun on the mantle in the first act, by the final act, it had better have gone off." Essentially, everything you use in a story, even those things insignificant, should never be mentioned just once, but should be one piece of the puzzle that is your work.
Back on track now, I noticed that you forshadowed the car crash in two places: first, with the description of a crash, of which "nothing like that happens"; and with the final, ominous statement in hindsight that "If I could only predict...". The latter works nicely, and fits the tone of the piece. It is the former, however, that I seem to be having trouble with. I understand what you are trying to do, and I believe that it may work better if you decide to either drastically shorten the paragraph discussing the potential crash, or simply omit it completely... the choice is yours. It is just because it halts the build up the readers are experiencing from the beginning, the sublime encompassment of your story into the mind of the reader... we start to truly imagine the world that surrounds you, and you bring us into the very real-seeming tragedy that may strike, and then let us go with an anticlimactic adjunct of fantasy.
Might I also note that the second paragraph is one of the most beautiful in the story, for reasons that I couldn't even explain. It simply flows beautifully, and creates wonderful imagery; speaking of which, although the story seems to be from the mind of the narrator, it is interesting that it feels almost objective in tone, notwithstanding various inclusions of desire for death, or the general aura of self-hate that permeates the piece. Therefore, although imagery may not always /make/ the story, it can if need be, and in this case, because of the point of view and the tone, it must. It is only what we are told that becomes important, and if the imagery is lacking, then so is the story.
Now before I continue with the story, I will look at probably the most important aspect of your story: the static, and the voices in that unholy grey noise. It preaches the word of God, the supposed word of hope and deliverance... as long as the static pierces the night, the character is alive, it seems. After the crash, the voice of God "crackles, becomes louder", before going dead, almost following the same path as the character's consciousness... and in the end, when the static ceases to be, so does the mind of our forlorn narrator. The static becomes a symbol both for the narrator, and for the bleakness of the situation. This creates an atmosphere of eerieness- the religiosity of the voices in the static makes for a haunting air, one of conflicting desires between God and the Devil (both of which being mentioned in the piece). In addition, the author keeps the symbol in use throughout the work, up to the very end; this is effective in creating consistency and giving the piece some sort of direction.
To be honest, however, the short interlude (if you will) of "He says [...] what he preaches?" rather confused me. I understand what it means superficially, but how it ties into the rest of the story seems beyond my reach... my suggestion, perhaps, is to create more of a tie-in, or, once again, remove it, because as of now it seems superfluous. I would lean towards the former, because it is an interesting statement in and of itself... it simply feels disconnected from the rest of the story.
The crash was well described, and creates enough emotion to hook the reader into what is to happen subsequent to the "turning and flipping of the four-wheeled deathtrap". I rather enjoyed the segmented section on the silence and darkness of the aftermath, mainly because the way it reads creates a slowing-down effect, similar to what we are all sure the narrator must be feeling at that very moment. The helpless panic s/he feels after the incident is almost palpable, as is the terrifying silence that seems to encompass the reverberations of calamity. Yet we are left to wonder, was this truly a calamity? One can remember, earlier on, the desire for a crash (overly-detailed or not), and now, here it is: yet there is no air of triumph here. The narrator says, "we are indeed the antithesis of going-to-be-fine" without any sense of righteousness or success, or even clairvoyance: there is only oncoming nothingness, pierced by the occasional siren or hiss of the car's dying engine.
Before the final paragraph, there is a little insertion, perhaps of the final jumbled words that manifested themselves in the static before all went silent. These words become imperative, echoing as the final reminder of what is to come: "He... asks... nothing... don't... fear... death... [...] forgives... nothing...". We are reminded, through this short section, that misery or sadness, that fear and avoidance of death combined with a hatred of living that makes for an ironic end to life.
The final paragraph is a well-made finale, with an air of mystery and solitude that perfectly fits the mood of the piece. The final two lines, "while death whispers softly, beckoning, in the night surrounding us" is absolutely unbelieveable, euphonic and haunting at the same time... it's wonderful.
Overall, I very much enjoyed this piece. I found the oneness of the character, especially to his/her surroundings, to be fitting, and the fact that s/he was the only character of the piece made that sense of isolation all the more evident. I loved the minimalism of the work, as except for a few superfluities, there was actually very little that occured in this story; however, that, I believe, is the point: there is no back story, no reasons, only the present, only the sights, sounds, and mostly objectified feelings occuring at that very moment, describing a tale of tragedy. Symbolism is craftily woven into the plot, and makes the read feel a little more transcendant, with more depth and meaning that it's minimalist nature would assign. Overall a wonderfully written piece, beautiful yet sublime, and a literary joy to the psychic senses. I loved it :)

[Chaotica]

The following is an MSN conversation about this story. Constructive criticism from a dear friend.

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
I think the problem here is

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
first you have to give what the audience and story want and need, and eliminate the little things like

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
Street lamps and lights from buildings in the distance flash past,
a tribute to modern technology.

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
some creative uses of the language sometimes just fill space and don`t give your reader any emotion to build on

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
Also what you might want to add is a backstory, why is your character driving, why is she/he so distracted, whats he/she really thinking of to crash

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
But you got the setting and theme all right together honestly

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
Dump a*s city and a crash, which is what a lot of people do in dump a*s cities

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
same with the other peice, you choose the write imagery

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
you just need to build on the story-ness ism

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
The imagery attributes to the pathos but the story is the real hitter, and it has to be clear, understandable, without sounding outrageous, even if it is

- � C.hell.sea � - - [you will never see a clockwork sunrise again] - says:
in this story im the passenger

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
hm I see

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
then maybe attribute something to the connection of the driver and passenger and something that happened just recently

Dave - God rolls a d20. 7. Severe hives for David. says:
maybe the driver has gone insane, like it sounds, and dearly loves the passenger..

- � C.hell.sea � - - [you will never see a clockwork sunrise again] - says:
lol... i like it.