Now.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, don’t worry. And be quiet.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Look, it won’t take more than a minute.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Oh, shut up. I don’t need your help.”
“You may not need my help, but you clearly need professional help.”
“What? Professionals do this kind of thing?”
“…Are you always this stupid? I’m just wondering for future reference.”
[Silence]
“…Hey?”
[Silence]
“Oh, don’t be that way.”
[Silence]
“…Oh God.”
---
There was a time when I was eight years old. It wasn’t a terribly eventful time. Basically, my mother took me to the mall and we window-shopped. Then we left. That was it. That was the time.
It was the results of that time that were rather stupendous.
Apparently, as I would learn later in life, we’d walked past a security camera or two on our way out. The tape would show a little girl holding tightly onto thin air as she walked energetically through the mall while talking her own ear off. Someone noticed this at the time and called on a security guard to make sure everything was all right. The security guard was feeling particularly lazy that day and couldn’t be bothered to do his job, so he simply alerted every other security guard on the premises that there was a girl wandering about on her own. The guards didn’t check the original guard’s area, assuming that he’d done it, and my invisible mother and I were able to leave the mall without conflict.
My mother had never left my side. The only problem was that she simply didn’t show up on camera. I didn’t learn anything about this until about eight years later. That time was eventful.
Then.
4/08
I got home from school today and my mother was doing the most bizarre things. I mean, weird on my mother is not uncommon; she’s not the most average of mothers you’ll ever meet. But this was bordering on freaky.
I guess it’s my fault that I’m potentially traumatized by this. I crept into the kitchen without really making any noise. I stopped and watched when I saw what she was doing.
She was talking to a wall.
Like it was a person.
She kept calling it by my name.
I get that I’m not supposed to just watch without telling her I was there, but I was just fascinated. I couldn’t help it. Eventually I backed out of the room and left her to her wall conversations. But, really… doesn’t that seem more than a little weird?
---
Looking fervently around, she made sure that nothing was going to go awry. Elements were off, children were out, husband was working. She wandered over to the sofa and lay down.
But this time, before she got distracted again, she questioned what she was doing.
It was dangerous, this kind of thing. That much was obvious. Bad things had happened in the past. And maybe her husband was right; maybe it was getting out of control.
Nonsense! Protested the ever-present voice in the back of her mind.
How is that nonsense? It’s common sense, whispered a tiny voice she didn’t recognize. While you’re gone, you have no idea what’s really happening.
“Mother?” she whispered aloud.
Close. It’s just you, projecting my wishes. You know it’s wrong. You’re getting too far in.
That was the unfortunate thing about it, wasn’t it? Her kids were starting to give her funny looks when she went and they were home. Or, so her husband said.
You have to follow him, said the ever-present voice.
“Another day,” she said aloud. “I thought it was decided that I didn’t want to know.”
And she fell silent again.
She considered what she was doing. It wasn’t directly harming anyone, and golly, it was fun.
She smiled.
And she slipped away.
---
I saw her running down the hill. Finally, after an hour of waiting. I should have walked home.
“I’m sorry!” she shouted as she ran. I looked down.
“Where’s the car?” I asked quietly.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated breathlessly as she came to a stop.
“Yeah. Okay. Where’s the car?”
“I…” she frowned. “I didn’t think to bring the car.”
I brought my eyes up to her red face. “I see that.”
“I’m sorrrrrry,” she whined.
“Fine! Fine, mom. Let’s just go.”
“Sweetie…”
I pretended not to hear. I walked for a good long way before the pounding in my ears subsided enough to tell that she wasn’t behind me.
It was my sixteenth birthday that day. She hadn’t remembered. Two days later we had the conversation.
Now.
“Hi!”
“Thank God! I had no idea where you’d gone. You just sat there, and… and didn’t say anything. I thought you’d done it for a moment. Do you realize how supremely idiotic that would have been? After what it did to your… hey, are you okay?”
“Yes! Fine! Let’s go!”
“…Go where?”
“Where were we going?”
“…We weren’t.”
“We weren’t what?”
[Grin.]
“Going.”
“Going where?”
“Anywhere.”
“Oh. Okay! Let’s go!”
“…”
[Slap.]
[Grin.]
“Ow!”
[Grin.]
“Stop grinning! I just hit you. This means that you should stop acting like such a little freak!”
“Oh. I’m sorry if my behavior displeases you.”
“There. That’s better. Good. Sarcasm. That’s…”
[GRIN.]
“…Oh my GOD! You were being serious!”
“Was I not supposed to be?”
“…You’re acting seriously… oh. Oh… oh dear. You’ve done it, haven’t you?”
[Grin.]
[Sigh.]
“Okay. Let’s go, then.”
“Let’s go!”
Then.
“You’re home.”
“I am.”
“It’s about time.”
“I was busy.”
She was busy.
“You should have called.”
“I was busy.”
She was busy.
“So? I had dinner on the table waiting for you an hour ago! Where have you been?”
“I lost track of time.”
She lost track of time.
“Mom! Don’t you see something wrong with this picture?”
“No.”
“I’M ACTING THE PARENT! I’m sixteen, and I am more mature than you are. Get a grip, mom!”
“Don’t you sass me.”
I had to laugh. It was just too funny. Then I sat on a stool and moved on.
“I got an interesting phone call today.”
Mom frowns. “Since when are you sixteen?”
I threw off a wave of anger and continued. “A court case of some kind was being reviewed from eight years ago. Some guy wants parole or something. The cops went over the security tapes from a mall and they found something fairly remarkable. Ten points if you can guess what it was.” I watch my mother. She looks at the floor. I can’t tell if she’d even heard a word until:
“A little girl wandering alone.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And that’s ten points to the lady in the kitchen. Double your score if you can guess who the girl was.”
“It was you.”
“That’s a whopping twenty points.” It was at that point that I realized I was about to lose my temper in a big way. “What aren’t you telling me.” I didn’t bother to state it as a question.
Mom sighs and looks up at me for the first time all night. She looks tired and old. Tears well. She sits down on a stool across from me, and she explains.
---
“Sweetie…” she whined at her daughter, who pretended not to hear. The mother watched her child as she stalked away, leaning into the wind but probably not really feeling it.
She wished she knew what her daughter was thinking.
[Idea + Smile.]
She positioned herself so that she wouldn’t fall during the short time between when she slipped away and when auto-pilot kicked in. She closed her eyes, made the connection, and went.
But she was still there.
She felt the familiar sensation of complete lack of responsibilities or boundaries as rose above herself and laughed at her corporeal form. She made sure the auto-pilot was operational, and then concentrated.
Daughter.
foom poof twang
there.
And then she was in her daughter’s mind. Two totally different people sharing the same thoughts and sensations for a while. Her daughter could not sense her there, and though aware of her existence, she couldn’t sense her daughter. All at once, she was her daughter while still maintaining her own existence. That’s the way it was. She could just slip away; her body preformed standard actions automatically. She could become a part of anyone. Mostly, she just concentrated on random and jumped to a perfect stranger, just to see what their life was like.
It was absolutely amazing. She loved it. It allowed her to understand people better, and it gave her this entire sense of… freedom.
And now she was her daughter.
Whose thoughts were mean and bitter; who felt so angry with her mom for not fixing herself, whatever was wrong with her; who was thinking about what she’d make for dinner tomorrow in case her mother didn’t show up again.
Wait… no footsteps. She isn’t following me.
And then she was expelled. It wasn’t intentional, though that was usually the way things went. She could control when to expel herself. But not this time. It was almost as though the moment it was realized that she wasn’t there, her daughter had automatically and unconsciously expelled her from her mind.
She soared back home, where auto-pilot had taken her body via taxi. It was a shock to be back; moreso than usual.
Oh, God, said the ever-present voice in unison with that of her mother. You’ve royally screwed up this time.
“I need a concentrate,” she muttered aloud.
No! her mother's voice insisted uselessly. Remember what I said, child!
…
Husband.
1977
“My dear, this is a power you need to use with caution. It’s too easy to get addicted to it, and it’s not meant for amusement purposes. Use it only in extreme situations, child.”
“Mother, I’m not sure I understand…”
“Nor will you until you try. You’re sixteen now; I think you’re old enough to understand the responsibilities attached with it. Remember that if you get out of control—"
“Cut the power off before it becomes too late. I’ve got it.” She sighed. “All right. Tell me what I need to do.”
Oh, God, how well she remembered it! It was so familiar; every detail, every second of it, she remembered, eighteen years later. The day her mother had told her about the power every female in her family possessed. The single most influential day of her life, ranking above her marriage, above the birth of her child. It was the day she discovered.
She followed her mother’s instructions and felt herself rise above her body. She simply hovered in place, taking in the sensations… or lack thereof. No need to breathe; no cold feet under the floor. It was incredible. She saw herself grin below her. Then she remembered to activate the auto-pilot. She watched herself wander around the kitchen and fix herself a glass of milk, and then sit at the kitchen table, waiting patiently.
Satisfied with the fake version of herself, she concentrated hard.
Random.
All at once, she wasn’t in her kitchen anymore. She wasn’t even her anymore. According to the memory she was sharing, her new name was Jill Carson. She walked about with a backpack around her shoulders and a thousand thoughts a second going through her mind.
She didn’t pay any attention to the mind, though; mostly she relished the strange sensation of the wind through someone else’s hair. The cars drove swiftly by and Jill looked around at them. She caught a thought: I wish I hadn’t bought that massive 20" television. Maybe then I could afford a car and this walking down the highway gig wouldn’t be getting so old.
She smiled and let Jill be on her way.
Expel.
Random.
She wasn’t Jill Carson anymore with her large telly and lack of car; she was an elderly woman named Ethel McGill.
Ethel sat in a large and very ugly flowered chair. She blinked heavily and watched the people of similar age as Ethel around her. She could hear the people talking to Ethel, but since she couldn’t hear them, Ethel clearly wasn’t listening. Ethel held a cane out in front of her. It’s depressing, Ethel thought. I’m sitting here surrounded by people I hardly know and they’re speaking to me like we’re old friends. Well, we are old; there’s just nothing friendly about it. I hate them, and they hate me. It’s the way things work here. Perhaps I’ll talk to Johnny and convince him to break me out of here… he was, after all, the one who put me in.
Ethel was right; it was depressing.
Expel.
Home.
[Jolt.]
“Woo!”
“You’re back?”
“I am. That was…”
“Extremely dangerous. It may have been fun, and it may have been unique, but you must understand how dangerous it is. This power is a privilege and a responsibility. You mustn’t use it more than once a month. Once you get above that point, you know you have a problem, and you must—“
“Turn the power off, mother. I understand.”
“I hope you do, child. I hope you do.”
Then.
I was laughing.
“Stop it!”
I was still laughing.
“I’m not kidding, kiddo.”
It was just so FUNNY!
“Look. Okay, fine. You wanted to know what my ‘problem’ was, I told you. If you can’t deal with it, that’s fine.”
“No… it’s just I… haha… I can’t help but think… that… you’re absolutely… hahahaha… INSANE, you know? Hahahahahahaha.”
“I’m not. Why do you think I didn’t appear on the tapes? When I slip, I don’t appear on camera because my soul isn’t there. It’s somewhere totally different. It’s amazing. You’ll never experience anything like it.”
She was serious.
My laughing tapered.
“Heh. Yeah, well, whatever.”
Her eyes lit up. She just stared at me for a while, apparently having some kind of internal battle. Then she finally blurted, “Try it.”
“What? No!”
“Come on.”
“Mom, no.”
“Why not? You’ll believe me, then.”
“No, I really don’t think I will.”
*whimper, whine*
“Whining won’t get you anywhere,” I added.
“Try it. Just Concentrate.”
“I’m not going to ‘jump’ into another person. That’s totally invading their privacy. And also, you know, impossible.”
“It’s not. It’s genetic. You kicked me out of your mind, I know you have the pow—“
“…You were in my mind?”
“…I… no, I was… just… I was… no!”
“YOU were in MY MIND?”
“Sweetie, you have to understand…”
I stood up. “No, mom. You have to understand. I don’t know why I believe all this nonsense, but what I do know is that this is not good. This power you have? It’s no good. It invades people’s privacy. It invades my privacy. Stop, mom. Get over it. You don’t need to be someone else.”
“…mimble blimble…”
“You have a problem. Get a grip and get over yourself.” I left the room.
“Your father’s having an affair.”
I paused. I didn’t look back. “I know. Can you blame him?” I walked out of the house without waiting for a reply.
---
That was the last time I saw my mother alive. That night she slipped away and was too upset to remember auto-pilot. She went from random to random all night long, but by morning her body had died. She was stuck to roam.
Which brings us to about two weeks later.
Now.
“Hi!”
[Elbow in ribs.] “Stop that. You’re not usually so friendly to your neighbours.”
“Oh. Sorry!”
“Just be quiet. Let’s get you home.”
“Let’s go!”
“And stop walking so funny. You look like freaking Frankenstein or something.”
“Oh. Sorry!”
“Shut up!”
[Knock.]
[Creeeeeeak.]
“Well, hi there, girls. You know you don’t have to knock.”
[Smile.]
“I know, sir, and thank you, but… we have a situation. See, your brilliant daughter here decided to follow in her mother’s footsteps with the whole, slipping away thing, and her auto-pilot isn’t very convincing.”
“Hi!”
[Hesitation.]
“She told you everything?”
“Yeah. The night her mom told her, she got seriously freaked and she slept over at my house. Told me everything. I didn’t believe it at first. I don’t think she did, either. But, here she is, slipped and a little dipped, too.”
“Let’s go!”
[Sigh.]
“All right. Get her inside.”
[Jolt.]
holy god that was amazing great fun adventure freeing.
[Grin.]
“Hey. Are we back now? No more with the creepy flying around being other people?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Hi.”
“Are you actually the stupidest kid ever? I’m just wondering. I asked you this before, but you didn’t answer because you were kind of gone.”
“What were you thinking? What possible good could have come of it? Your mother died of it! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“It does, of course it does! But, dad, you won’t believe who…”
“Then stop being such a fool. There is no good. It is no good.”
“Dad, guys, both of you. Just, calm down, and let me tell you who I…”
“No. I don’t even want to hear it.”
I realized I couldn’t tell them, and sighed dramatically. “All right. Okay. I’m on board. No good. It won’t happen again. I just… I had to try it. I had to see what it was she loved about it so much. But I’m done. That’s it. No more. I won’t go again.”
[I’ll see you again tonight, mom. They may not want to see you, but I do.
Just wait a while. I'll be there.
Nothing can stop me.]














Comments
This is according to my taste, of course.
.......
I like your style. Especially parts like [Idea + Smile.]; it gets the idea of what's happening across much better than any amount of description. And how the dialogue is almost like a script, and assumes we can figure out who is talking without "he said, she said" all the time.
--
Save your tears for when it hurts.
Thank you dearly for commenting, and I'm glad you like it.
Capitals needed? Italics might be better.
Her kids were starting to give her funny looks when she went when they were home.
Do you hate my tongue or something?
[GRIN.]
The capitals work here.
“…You’re acting seriously… oh.
Oh.
Oh dear.
You’ve done it, haven’t you?”
When you have a new paragraph during speech, you do not put speech marks at the end of the paragraph, but you put them at the beginning of the new one. This would turn into:
“…You’re acting seriously… oh.
"Oh.
"Oh dear.
"You’ve done it, haven’t you?”
Which doesn't look very nice at all, does it?
She clicked the section of her brain and went.
Reason for underline?
This is the longest thing you've ever written and submitted to dA. That Lexxdish thing might have been longer, but I don't count that as "serious" writing. I doubt you put as much into it as you did this.
With more length comes more challenge. It's harder to keep the interest of the reader. Grabbing it is a bit more tricky because you also have to set up a good opening that can hold the story up for the rest of the way, and deliver something back at the end. You succeeded in the first part, but not the second.
In other words, you held my interest and I never had to force myself to continue reading. It was easy to carry on. At the end, however, I felt a little cheated. I gave you all of this attention and you didn't return the story back fully. You didn't build enough on your foundation.
Explain more. Not a lot more. Just a little. I like the way the dialogue works. It keeps me interested, because I want to know who's talking. I want to work it out through what's said and it also keeps the reader alert and makes him pay close attention to the dialogue. I'm using the same style in my story right now, as you are well aware, and I enjoy it quite a bit.
Expand on certain things and the story would be much better. It is a little choppy, yes, but that's not the main problem. The jumping around is fine, very post-modern of you, and the way you have described what you chose to describe was well done. I'm not asking for you to dredge on more with what you've already said, I want you to do more with it. Maybe more examples, clear one or two things up. Give the reader something a little more concrete in the middle there that they can use as an island to rest on. You have confusion throughout the first half of the story, a little revelation, then confusion to the end. Make that little revelation a little bigger.
This story could also survive a few more scenes being added, if you had that intention. I get the feeling you had a little more in your mind but you wanted some feedback first to see what people thought. Don't be afraid to add to it now. Run it by me first; you're always welcome.
Spelling and grammar were fine. I like the [Idea + Smile] and [GRIN] parts. That's your personal style. Needless capitals and underlining isn't to my liking. I also feel that starting off certain words (The Conversation) with caps detracts from this story. In the past it has worked fine, but this one is a lot more serious and coherent than you last. This one is not as surreal; I like that. I'm glad you're exploring this realm.
Finally, this is good stuff. I enjoyed it. You have the makings of a good work of prose here.
--
I'm not a writer, I just play one on deviantArt.
2. What?
3. Yep, they do.
4. I did it the way I did for effect. I know the proper way to write it. I'm grammar girl, are we forgetting?
5. To emphasize the going. If I just said, "she clicked the section of her brain and went," then people are going, "what, huh? who cares that she clicked a section of her brain?" The point of that sentence was the going, not the clicking. Maybe the POV of others' is different than what I got from it, I just like the underline.
This, Twenty Men, and Blueprints were the only serious things I've written. Lexx was the result of long, arguous hours of non-effort and rather ridiculous amounts of nobody-cares. I finished it because I was asked to. Even in the realm of Leigha's non-serious writings, it doesn't qualify.
I wrote everything after the journal entry last night, between the hours of 10:30 and 12:30. I was in a rush to get it done because I was so painfully close to the end, but I was tired and wanted to sleep soon. The second part reflects this. It's the problem I have with it. I can change it, it's just going to cost me half the hair on my head.
Your story was what told me to write. Otherwise I wouldn't have cared to. The story's in a similar style for that reason.
Yes. Description. Getting what I wanted to get across was a bitch. I sat there for a while and phrased it twenty different ways before I got it the way I wanted. I considered adding another section that was an example of 'jumping' after I was finished, but I just said, "no sodding way," and went to bed.
It has a one and two, but the two needs to become a three. There needs to be an island. I need a better two.
I considered making it longer, but I didn't know how, I guess. This comment has helped.
Capitalization on words=no. Got it.
More tomorrow. Reply to this. I'm too sleepy to go into right now.
--
I'm not a writer, I just play one on deviantArt.
“Oh, it’ll be fun, come on.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Look, it won’t take more than a minute.”
“Well, that’s not untrue.”
“Oh, shut up. I don’t need your help.”
“You may not need my help, but you clearly need professional help.”
“What? You know of a professional that does this?
“…Are you always this stupid? I’m just wondering for future reference.”
[Silence]
“…Hey?”
[Silence]
“Oh, don’t be that way.”
[Silence]
“…Oh God.”
This is daughter and friend, yes? Continues at the end of the story.
Her mother’s voice. My, it had been a while.
While you’re gone, you have no idea what’s really happening.
Quoting for reference. Will come back to this at the end.
“Hi!”
“Thank God! I had no idea where you’d gone. You just sat there, and… and didn’t say anything. I thought you’d done it for a moment. Do you realize how stupid that would have been? After what it did to your… hey, are you okay?”
“Yes! Fine! Let’s go!”
“…Go where?”
“Where were we going?”
“…We weren’t.”
“We weren’t what?”
[Grin.]
...(and so on)
Also daughter and friend, correct?
Get a grip, mom!”
This suddenly looks like a big, sore, shit-covered thumb sticking out of the dialogue and right into my eye. Remove it.
And they were one entity, one mind. Two different personalities and two different people, but living one life. Knowing one perspective. The daughter didn’t know the mother was there, and the mother knew of the daughter but didn’t sense her presence. She was just a different person for a while. That’s the way it was. That’s the way it had always been since she was sixteen.
I think you need to change this paragraph. It leads the reader to believe that the unknown power the mother has is permanent in some way. As I understand it, she can slip from her own body and inhabit another one and know exactly what they think and feel. You are describing it well here, but you aren't implying necessary implications. Make it clear that it is very much as "in the current moment" deal. I also suggest removing "she was sixteen" and replacing it with a synonym of some sort.
Oh, God, how well she remembered it. It was so familiar. Every detail, every second of it, she remembered, eighteen years later. The day her mother had told her about the power. The single most influential day of her life, ranking above her marriage, above the birth of either of her children. It was the day she discovered.
Mother's flashback sequence, correct? The problem is, it plays out like you're jumping into the future and describing the Daughter's learning in an abstract way. I know that it's cleared later, but it's needlessly muddling. Daughter has a brother or sister? "birth of either of her children"? Did I miss a line?
“You’re father’s having an affair.”
Maybe you should add in a little section previous to this, way back in part 1, with the dad having said affair and the mother slipping to him to witness part of it. Make it vague.
Okay, coming back to what I said earlier:
You need to make the change over between mother and daughter slightly more noticable. Only slightly. As I see it, you're following three main scenes:
Mother's recall of learning -> current situation with husband and child and how she's unhappy -> suicide.
Daughter's blight of growing up with mother with condition -> discovering her power -> disbelief and rejection.
Daughter with friend two weeks after mother's death -> acceptance of power -> unhappiness of situation leads her to abuse it like her mother -> cycle begins again.
You have a clever loop here and I appreciate this story at a much higher level than I previously did, so favvy for you.
However, not everyone will read it as much as I did. Don't take that wrong, it's just a fact, so I suggest you make it slightly clearer and make a point in your description that this story will make more sense if it is read more than once.
That is, if the people who watch you ever actually read and comment on your work.
--
I'm not a writer, I just play one on deviantArt.
Thank you.
It's very unclear about who is who. I was being clever with it by trying to use pronouns only, not applying names to the story to prove what a dolt my English teacher is. Heeeeeheheh. I'll make it less clever now.
At the same time, you got everything right. But you had to ask, and some people just won't bother with it, like you said.
I'll fix it. I'll fix it. It'll be good and then I'll bring it to your attention again because your comments are good.
Names might not be needed. Just clear up the similarities between the two. They're very alike, so make it clear that the problems started with the Mother abusing the power, not the Mother's mother. Make better differences. Make sure each scene can be identified in some way.
--
I'm not a writer, I just play one on deviantArt.
Previous Page12345...Next Page