A short work

Kazhiim

We build great shields to protect us from the abrasive winds of the desert, and adorn them with images of the land we hope to find at the end of our journey. Our destination is never a certainty, but our shields are. They are far more extravagant than the shelters we may build as we move through the dunes, and every person constructs theirs alone, by hand. Each is a unique representation of what we believe awaits at the end of this. When the sand blows particularly hard and we're unable to see what lies ahead, these images let us ignore the overwhelming hostility of the desert and help carry our feet forward.

As the sand burns our feet and the wind cuts into our flesh, the images on our shields steadily vanish. Vibrant blue skies and green fields become chipped and faded, and hand-hewn edges are dulled into soft forms unrecognizable as what we had spent our best years crafting. The further we proceed into the storm, the harsher the wind and sand and sun become, and we find the bulwarks which we had driven us so strongly forward in an earlier time to be cold, empty shells of wood. Many men come to rely on the art of their youth to remind them that there's a point to the toil; once the images fade, they lie down and let the dunes wash over them. Those whose imaginations produce the most vivid and powerful images often never really begin the journey, believing that the reality of their success could never match what they had crafted in mind. Some find the strength to keep painting and carving after they've stepped into the desert, but such an effort cannot be maintained to the end of their course.

Muncie

It's an interesting idea that could probably be made into an actual story. In the meantime I'm not sure what kind of critique would actually be useful. The writing is competent but uninteresting, as monologues emerging from the aether tend to be. Otherwise there is no story, no characters, and really nothing for the reader to feel.

Develop this or something other idea into a story or email it to your mother; it won't be going on my fridge.

OfficiousG

I totally sympathize.

I wouldn't email it to my mother, though.

sanstodo

Muncie wrote: »

It's an interesting idea that could probably be made into an actual story. In the meantime I'm not sure what kind of critique would actually be useful. The writing is competent but uninteresting, as monologues emerging from the aether tend to be. Otherwise there is no story, no characters, and really nothing for the reader to feel.

Develop this or something other idea into a story or email it to your mother; it won't be going on my fridge.

This definitely sounds like a monologue by an unseen speaker. Muncie's comments are correct. There needs to be more context for this to make sense or even be critiquable. Without a setting, there is no story. This needs a setting.