Part 2: Chapter 5

Part 2

Chapter 5

It was dark outside, the sun had fallen below the mountains and awakened a black mass upon the world. Lora lay in a grassy field, gazing at the starlit sky and the billions of stars it housed. She wondered what was beyond the dark barrier separating them from those twinkling stars. It was truly unknown to all of mankind, and nearly impossible to comprehend because of the darkness and the distance. She knew nobody else thought these things, or cared to understand them. But she was lost on her own planet, so it seemed reasonable to allow her mind to wander beyond the limits of her own world, restraining her from the impossibilities of everything else. Was their hope, somewhere out there? Were there others out there who also yearned to find and establish their place in the universe. She figured the whole universe was One, and anything else out there surely wondered where they stood in the vast, grand enormity of their universe. She figured these bright beacons in the dark of night were placed in the sky for a reason, not just to hang dully for all of eternity, like a dusty photograph on a vacuous wall. No, they had their purpose.

She fell asleep under the stars, and the world was quiet.

When the morning sun rose above the mountain-tops, Lora lifted her head from the ground, her hair shimmering from the glare. She trudged along a dusty bottom, and to her right a glass, metal building lay shattered in its turmoil. Red, broken letters spelled out “Staples Center.” Memories of a basketball game with her father came rushing back to her. The wind picked up as she blew by the wreckage like past rushing beside present, present seeking future.

The wind of time.

Where was she to go? What was she to do? This world was no good for her. She ended up in front of a worn down, wooden home on the side of the road. Entering, she whipped open the door and looked around at the living quality of the place. It smelled of manure and old, wet socks. She opened a closet door, but instantly the door collapsed to the ground.

A golden lab came waddling from within, covered in mud.

The dog barked ferociously, but once it had a whiff of Lora it settled down and its eyes became soft. Wagging its tail, it wiggled up to her and placed its head on her lap.

“What are you called?” Lora said aloud.

The dog said nothing.

“Where do you come from?”

The dog said nothing.

The dog’s golden fur emitted a brilliant sparkle, reflecting the warmth of the sun beating down upon it. Lora smiled.

“I’ll call you Sunlight.” she said.

Then she spotted a dusty book within the closet, torn and looking very old. She reached down to pick it up. Opening it, she saw dark black print covering only the first couple pages. She read.

Day 1

My double stared deep into my eyes, a fogginess in his eyes that seemed unsubstantial to realism. My soul spoke in this relished moment, my heart pounding from my own being to his. His moist eyelids seemed to be a manner of distinguished falsity, but they were REAL, and alive.

When I was a freshman in high school, my English teacher addressed the class, and she claimed one day scientists would discover a genuine way of cloning a human being, and that it will be done! it struck me in that moment the authenticity of her statement, and Oh did I look into the future and attempt to imagine the effects of this unknown phenomenon. I am now fifty-one years old, gray hairs springing from my head--and this already! I beheld my clone not as an alien creature, but rather as a member of the human race--I would ensure this to become the future of cloning on our great Earth! but alas, how was I to do this?

I observed my clone’s features in complete reverence. Yes, what a grand thing! blue veins popped out from his muscular arms, and curly brown hair topped his head. But his blue eyes rang a deeper prospect of meaning to me--what lie behind the glossy blue of his pupil was mysterious to me, and it seemed projected as incomprehensible to the human mind. The human mind can do great things--spectacular things! yet to fathom the life and wellness of a created being--rather, what the clone sees the world to be through its own eyes...truly extraordinary. My clone looked upon me--the soft pitter patter of midnight rain could be heard through a window--yes, nothing could spoil this precious moment! precious! His eyes locked to mine--my child he surely was, and who could say otherwise? I made him! He is my past and future--surely what a great thing!

He momentarily began to stir, and I could practically see the foggy mist clear from his eyes as he awoke--before he had been staring at me with what I conceived as more or less dead eyes, but now: the true awakening! This would mark the beginning--the beginning of a new time, whence the world will come to see the ingenuity of my labour! Yes, surely my creation would alter the way life is seen unto man! The world will never be the same--and for that, I am certain! If the creation of life in a way such as this can be done, then surely much more should hasten to be staked as possible! All that was seen as impossible should not be likewise, but rather they should be tried--and tried! The infinite expanse of space may not be as infinite as it seems. The prospect of time: from infinity past to infinity future, perhaps just a fluke to keep us busy; the human mind...comprehension of such topics is just...no living man can describe it. And the reason I say no living man...the deceased likely have all the answers, mocking our world because we’re doing everything wrong. But I am going to discover the answers; discover the true meaning behind infinity and change EVERYTHING the living ever thought of life. The future is similar to my creation: fresh and new! An awakening of not only my clone but also a world of plausible, and proposed, questions--with answers anew.

Dreams are beautiful, and all dreams can verily come true. If only they could be truly understood for the enormity of their prospects. Our dreams are our imaginations, and our dreams make us who we are. Some may inquire; “Why do we dream?” Because dreams represent our soul through and through, and a man without a dream is not a man at all. The future of the world are the dreams of each person residing on our great Earth, and forced together they create the world we decide to create. Dreams are like a message from the true beauty within our minds, like a waterfall that pours into our future. It doesn’t cost to dream; so we must explore our dreams and shape them into the world we want.

A rippling fire blazes upon my mantle. My clone has fallen into a deep slumber; I wonder if he is dreaming. If so, it is for which I cannot fathom. I bet his dreams are most lucid and powerful; indeed, for his mind must endeavor this new world as a prospect of his future!  Grazing my thumb across my prickly brown beard, I ponder the future, and what is to come of my reverence.

I think back upon eight sentences I scribbled from pen to paper thirty-five years ago today. I remember them clearly.

The 5 Lives of Duncan Arnett:

I will not allow Mrs. Lee to die in vein. He had a dream for our world. I will unearth forgotten pasts and hopeful futures. 1; I will clone a human being. 2; I will discover the true meaning behind life and all that makes this up. 3; I will delve into the prospect of time travel. 4; I will bend the entire concept of reality. 5; I will change the world.

Wrinkles stretch across my face as sweat trickles slowly down. I stand to my feet, leaving wet footprints on my wooden floor and I make my way across the room. I sneak a peek at my clone, who is lying asleep upon its bed. A smile spreads across my face as a fierce hope and determination tries my brain. I imagine the mental struggles it must be feeling, trying to place itself in this huge world it hasn’t yet experienced. I saunter over to my front door and take a deep breath. Then I step outside and I see the big blue world. Icy, humid air licks my face as a sweltering sun stabs my eyes. Yes, the world within a world within a world. Big Blue, as I like to refer to the ocean, is like a huge, crystal globe with stories to tell from the out and the in. Big Blue is hope. Then there’s the empty space that contains all infinity and impossibilities call it home. Land is lost in the middle of hope and infinity, where humans struggle to discover how small we really are and how big everything else is to separate us.

I separate myself to contemplate the struggles of incomprehension. I separate myself from the trees and the forests because those things are a type of life that distract me from the real meaning of life, which is yet to be discovered. As far as the eye can see the water stretches into the horizon and mingles with the light of the sky. Hope is in abundance.

Lora’s eyes were moist. The thoughts portrayed in this journal were similar to her own. But what had happened to Duncan after that? The pages that followed were blank. She walked outside, and the dog followed. She looked at the address on the home. 6223. She’d have to remember that.

Reviews

[Meeks]

Some critique. PM me if it offends you, and I'll take it down.

The beginning is... long. Too many thoughts, to many descriptions, and no plot or action at all, clumped up in one giant paragraph and seemingly warning the readers' eyes to stay away.
And then the 'story', or maybe journal that she read, is similarly hard to follow. Including pieces written by characters is a hard thing to do because you have to not only ignore your style and take on their's (which didn't happen here), but also make them a good writer. And have stuff to write about.

Lora spends the five seconds of attention she gives the dog to name him. Odd, either she would spend more time petting or wouldn't be naming him so quickly.

"Lora’s eyes were moist" - Melodrama alert. Instantly lost any emotional value (that wasnt there to begin with, btw) Don't tell us how the character is reacting, make it obvious for her to react that way and make the reader feel it too.

"“What are you called?” Lora said aloud.
The dog said nothing.
“Where do you come from?”
The dog said nothing. " - Ehm, this reads a bit like prose. Worse, it repeats two lines. The reader goes 'I read that already,' which distracts him.
One can use similar wording to link different scenes in your story. But they have to be further apart, and it actually has to be useful for something.
Also, what kind of person is this to talk to a dog? Twice? Are you sure this fits her personality?

The fact that the bold story is centered really, really gets me. It destroys the purpose of a new paragraph. It starts to look like a poem. Or a picture book. And it destroys all shape, making it a gelatinois blob of text. Really, it seems to be moving and I can't get my eyes to follow correctly, and so I had a hard time reading (even the first time, though I didn't mention it)

New paragraphs for new things/events/dialogues.

Overall, you have a lot of really good, romantic style content. The problem is that your style is archaic. Readers nowadays have everything going fast, including books. Look into modern, and maybe post-modern as well. In a gist, it goes faster.
Lots of good content here. Keep up the writing, and it will get better!

Also, I'm still kind of angry that you haven't reviewed any of my stuff, but still send me read requests (I might be sounding hostile throughout the critique, don't take it personally). The solution I found should be visible if you look on my profile. Anyway, this is probably one of the last things I'll review for you. Good luck in the future, and happy New Years!

[wordman]

well i think it`s great ! it takes time to be perfect,and this is conveyed from your mind,some people just can`t follow

[Stars and Whales]

Thanks wordman!

[Bear]

heThis isn't really a critique, it is more of a questioning of your phrasing
(And they would be of the tongues of everyone and everything) did you mean "on the tongues"?
(Lora stumbled around on the ground) stumbled meaning to fall down but once on the ground, she would roll, thrash, squirm, wiggle, flounder, windmill or just "search around on the ground for her gun".
(Adrenaline shot through her like a bullet) Since she is holding a gun you might want to leave out the bullet analogy "Adrenaline shot through her and filled her blood with a fiery grit"
(but he kept pursuing her with a grin on his face) With a knife between his teeth, can you tell if he is grinning? "but he kept pursuing her with the knife's blade grinning from his mouth" just a suggestion.
(Lora growled and dodged all attacks) At this point, the man had only made the one slash at her throat so it should be "Lora growled and dodged the attack"

This is why it is good to be part of a writers group, you can help each other with all the little details that allude us the author when we are thinking the whole story big picture. I suggest you look around near you and try to find a writers group or club, if there is a university close I can almost guarantee they will have a few. I haven't looked online if such a site exist but for myself, I like to know and see the writers I am working with but that could just be my old fogyism :~)

I still like the story and find it interesting enough to keep reading, but you really should try to work out the contradictions like I have mentioned about and the many that I didn't mention. There is always something else to learn when writing and sadly you can't learn it all at once, it comes in stages so it is easy to get discouraged and quit. It happens to most hopeful writers, you can hear their frustration in their comments and the lack of encouragement. But when you have a talent for telling stories there is always a way, one of those ways I myself took when I was in my early 20's by the name of Lisa. She had all the knowledge on how but lacked the imagination to create so we made a good team. That last bit of history was just to let you know that if you find a knowledgeable co-author don't let them git away :~)