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Dec 6, 2016 03:55
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Frankly, I'm surprised it took you all so long to recognize my genius. Weather Forecast: Acid Rain Weather Forecast: Heat Wave Weather Forecast: Tornado Hawklad fucked around with this message at 04:06 on Dec 6, 2016 |
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Dec 6, 2016 03:57
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Dec 6, 2016 04:07
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Dec 6, 2016 04:11
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In., and I'll take one of them flashes.
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Dec 6, 2016 04:13
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Weather Forecast: Extreme Fog: Weather Forecast: Avalanche Thranguy posted:In., and I'll take one of them flashes. Weather Forecast::Volcanic Eruption Flash Rule: Your story must have a happy ending.
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Dec 6, 2016 04:28
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Dec 6, 2016 07:27
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Dec 6, 2016 07:45
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In with a flash rule.
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Dec 6, 2016 08:26
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Okua posted:Week 226: Viking Wisdom Ég er in, þrátt fyrir ensku þýðingunni úr trúr Íslensku. Helvitis fokking útlendingar.
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Dec 6, 2016 13:50
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In with a flash, please.
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Dec 6, 2016 14:08
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Fuubi posted:In. Weather Forecast: Blizzard Weather Forecast: Lightning Okua posted:In with a flash rule. Weather Forecast: Tornado Your story must involve a small dog. Erogenous Beef posted:Ég er in, þrátt fyrir ensku þýðingunni úr trúr Íslensku. Helvitis fokking útlendingar. Weather Forecast: Hail N. Senada posted:In with a flash, please. Weather Forecast: Dust Storm One of your characters is extremely wealthy
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Dec 6, 2016 15:14
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Dec 6, 2016 18:01
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Weather Forecast: Hurricane Weather Forecast: Cold Snap
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Dec 6, 2016 18:25
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Dec 6, 2016 21:31
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Dec 6, 2016 22:50
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Week 225 Crits Sailor Viy Whoa man how did you get all this stuff in one story? I want to like this. It's got energy, and it keeps escalating. By the end, you've broadened the scope to cosmic proportions. It kind of feels like the transcript to an abridged version of a netflix original series that I'd watch. There are some things I was ok with. The occult stuff starts out okay but...how do you get rich off of a trapped ghost? From then on, it seemed very much to be flying by the seat of its pants. Francine's friends basically remove her autonomy on a whim, which isn't really satisfying, just inexplicable and kinda evil. And what is happening to her body while they're off on their DMT trip anyway? When Francine and the ghost get back to the body, her lovely friends are still going to be there, apparently ready to do her some kind of harm. It's an odd story, and while I did kinda like the conversation between her and the cosmic DMT monster thing, it, like most other elements of this story, was pretty thin. Side note: Have you seen the movie Enter the Void? I was curious if this piece was inspired by that film, because certain elements (DMT, ghost incarnating into someone's baby) are fairly similar. Not enough to cry copycat, but I thought there were some interesting similarities. Thranguy So, the moral of the story is "don't play games with fate, unless you want your best friend to turn into Anderson Cooper at the same moment you decide you're totes gay for him". Got it. I didn't mind this. I didn't love it. I like the basic idea of Skrael, and kinda enjoyed watching its effects wreak havoc on suburbia. I think dad's arrival and the harrowing came too late. It's one of those conflicts/consequences that's introduced and resolved right at the end of the story. IDK what a harrowing is or how it fixes fate, but I guess it was a good way to lead into that kiss???? I dunno. Solid middle of the road for me, this was just structured in a lopsided way. Jitzu There are things I like about this. Structurally, I think it's good. I like the progression of your character in a small span of time. I like the hacker character. There are basically two shortcomings. The first is details in blocking. I'm going to use one of your first sentences as an example: quote:Having dropped to the floor, Brianna sighed, used a chunk of jagged wall debris to cut the noose, then threw up her hands and gave herself to desperate laugher, obviating tears. This is all IMO, and maybe it comes down to taste, but I think this is over-elaborate and full of too many details. She just tried to kill herself. I don't think she'd "throw up her hands". That strikes me as a gesture you do for other people's benefit, or in a situation that isn't so tragic and serious. I was skeptical that she'd be able to cut the noose with dislodged wall material. I think you could delete both of those details, though you would need to mention the noose somewhere in there to maintain clarity. Maybe she gives herself over to obviating tears without taking the noose off. I dunno. But this paragraph of text I'm writing right now represents the number of thoughts I was having not directly related to your story when I read the quoted sentence. So watch out for that stuff. Less is more, most of the time. My other issue was more one of tone. Brianna hates herself, hates her life. I don't think you hate Brianna, but at times the narrative feels a little contemptuous. Obviously the story ends up in a compassionate place, and it's all well and good, but stuff like this: quote:She was enjoying the artifice of cherry and fighting carbonated heartburn flare-ups when her computer dinged. doesn't really fit directly in the wake of a suicide attempt. At least not as it's worded now. Sure, someone somewhere may have had these exact thoughts--far be it from me to say what someone thinks after they've failed to take their own life--but it coooouuullld be slightly construed as "haha look at the fatty", which I'm sure isn't what you meant. I think another way to include the same detail would be to give a little more insight into Brianna's feelings about the drink. Maybe she's like, lol well at least the diabetes will get me someday, or something similarly gallows humor-ish. I think the self-loathing needs to be very specifically part of the character's internal monologue and not the narrative. In spite of all I've said, I liked this story. It definitely is one of those plots/subjects that can go horribly, horribly wrong, but in this case, it was mostly sympathetic. Fleta Mcgurn This story is almost beat-for-beat the same as Baleful Osmium Sea's story from week 225. Which isn't really a critique, but it made me do a double take. In both cases, my problems with the stories are the same. It all comes down to "will the protagonist be found innocent, or will they escape in an act of obvious magic while screaming 'nuts to you, intolerant villagers!'" In both cases, the protagonist escaped in a grand display of magical gently caress you. The tension, such as it is, mostly comes from withholding information from the reader. The protagonist already knows they're a magic-user, and they know they're going to use magic and diversion to escape, but the reader doesn't (although it's pretty easy to guess). So, while the writing is pretty good, the actual events in the story are overly familiar and reliant on information you deliberately don't give the reader. Chairchucker Hi chucker!!!! This was a fun story. I think the only thing that didn't work for me was when the lead Bad Guy shot his accomplices and no one lost their appetite. It was a weirdly dark moment in an otherwise lighthearted piece. Maybe you wanted that incongruity, idk. But a slightly funnier option would be to have the lead Bad Guy chase his minions off, and then THEY are the ones who bring the police back. Hawklad This was bleak and moody and tense. It definitely grew on me with subsequent readings. My critiques are mainly nitpicks; for example: quote:"Her name is Sirena," she says, and gives her own name as well but Lucien does not remember it. So, I guess her name just slides out of his head immediately after she said it? It would make more sense to not mention it at all, and later he can realize she only told him the "baby's" name, not hers. I think there is a more graceful way to introduce the idea that this woman is someone Lucien knows. Maybe, when she first gets on board, he feels an unaccountable fondness for her, or something. As it is, the fact that he thinks he knows her is kind of awkwardly plopped into the middle of the story. His realization that they slept together could be done a little smoother as well. That said, the final scene is terrifying and heartbreaking, and I think the story earns it. Baleful Osmium Sea You wrote an extended metaphor for a relatively banal series of events (the blossoming and withering of a relationship), but you did it with fresh language. Plus, it was the right length. If I'd had to read, say, 1800 words of this, I'd be writing a different sort of crit, but this was pretty and concise. It's a weird piece to crit because its strength is also its weakness. If the reader doesn't care for the language or imagery, they're probably not going to care for the story. Luckily, it worked for the judges. I think the moment that clinched it for me was: quote:As we sat on the balcony, watching the rippling sunset, a leviathan burst upward from the dreaming sea. For a moment it was beautiful, gigantic and awe-inspiring. But it just floated there in the middle of the harbour, watching us with a slimy eye, covered in stinking seaweed and razor-shelled molluscs . We pledged to ignore its stench for as long as possible. I survived until the cocktails arrived, then gagged, and made my excuses, and left. Just a really cool take on the idea of the "elephant in the room," the unspoken but obvious stink of dysfunction. Well done, newbie  Kaishai So, this has some of my favorite Kai hallmarks. That dark, loamy, forbidden myth feeling. A plot that lopes along at a comfortable pace. I guess my only hangup was...I'm a little fuzzy on the details of this resurrection magic. It seems to be hereditary (Roan's father had the same power), but does reviving the dead necessarily bind Roan to the task of vengeance? If so, why does the girl need to come back in a physical incarnation at all? He is woefully unprepared for a real fight, though we know he's going to win because the dead girl said so, and the dead can't lie. So it's really a matter of finding out how exactly a non-fighter manages to kill someone much more skilled with a blade than Roan. It was fun to watch the scene play out, but there wasn't much tension and nothing especially unexpected happened. Not that there needs to be a twist ending (that would be annoying), but I was hoping for something a little less straightforward. The strength of this piece is IMO Roan. He's sympathetic and kind and I want to know more about his magic. The final scene where he makes a funeral pyre for Iselde was especially bitter-sweet. In an odd way, I wish I could see them spend more time together. Tyrannosaurus This was an interesting character portrait. I had it on my HM list, though it got beat out by BOS's slightly more concise relationship-oriented piece. The narrator should annoy me, what with her constant, artsy cigarette smoking and her cavalier attitude, but by the end of the story I feel a connection to her and, by extension, all the various characters left in the wake of Vincent's death. The protagonist is exactly the kind of girl I would've resented when I was a little younger. I think we've all known "that girl who slept with everyone." Your character strikes me as someone who, from outside of her head, is easy to characterize as shallow and blandly promiscuous. Take for example the other guys she slept with, who only remembered her as that girl they all hooked up with. And in some ways, I think that's kinda how she sees herself, at least up until the revelation that she really did love a guy who was supposed to just be a hookup. Wow, that's not really a crit. This is one of those pieces where I think my critical eye is clouded by my personal feelings about the story, which is actually a good sign, tbh. Fuubi I really am not fond of the first sentence. I generally hate stories that begin like "LITTLE DID WE KNOW THAT...". But I am a bit interested in seeing these bourgeoisie slave-owning fucks get screwed over, so you have my interest there. The voice is very "dear reader," which I tend to find pleasant and personable, though I know some readers don't like it. The scene where the actual ragged man shows up is not my favorite. Roger seems cartoonishly evil. The narrator is really just a human camera, watching things happen. You go from a really broad scope with lots of exposition to a tight scene with a bunch of named and unnamed characters crammed together and it doesn't segue well. I did a bit of a double take when the narrative describes the man as having been literally ripped apart. It's so matter of fact, no real emotion to the scene. I can't get a read on what the narrator is thinking or feeling in that moment, though apparently he joined in the carnage with everyone else. There are two things I don't like about the ending. One is how much you cram into your few remaining words. There wasn't room for the epic siege you described. The second was the revelation that the narrator is relating this story to some magistrate, presumably because he wants to seek penance as an undeserving survivor. There are things I wanted to like about this, but it ends up being a big pile of blah because there's too much exposition and too little space for the really interesting happenings in the story. Watch your editing! quote:...I, too, was teken by one of these winged creatures I'm guessing your character was not turned into a fighting game by these winged creatures.
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Dec 7, 2016 05:00
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 Thunderdome Recap! Who can say where the spear flies? Why a serf dies? Only time. And who can say what a girl needs? Why a beard bleeds? Only time.* Travel into the past with Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and I on a voyage of discovery. Witness a man get his parts cut off before he's thrown in an abbey--well, all right, hear about it secondhand. Relish the squeals of imprisoned rats. Lots of imprisoned rats. Maybe you'd rather see a man get a spear through his nethers? Week 225: Pick A Century has it all! Once we've toured the highs and lows of history, Twist will perform a solo special reading of sebmojo's "Where late the sweet birds sang." No Imperial spetums are otherwise involved in this episode. "Know that there ain’t much in the way of hope down here — everyone soon comes to terms with that.” * Thank you, Enya. Episodes past: pre:Episode Recappers Week 156: LET'S GET hosed UP ON LOVE Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Djeser Week 157: BOW BEFORE THE BUZZSAW OF PROGRESS Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 158: LIKE NO ONE EVER WAS Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Djeser Week 159: SINNERS ORGY Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 160: Spin the wheel! Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 161: Negative Exponents Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 36: Polishing Turds -- A retrospective special! Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, and The Saddest Rhino Week 162: The best of the worst and the worst of the best Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, and The Saddest Rhino Week 163: YOUR STUPID poo poo BELONGS IN A MUSEUM Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 164: I Shouldn't Have Eaten That Souvlaki Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 165: Back to School Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 166: Comings and Goings Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 167: Black Sunshine Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 168: She Stole My Wallet and My Heart Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 169: Thunderdome o' Bedlam Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 170: Cities & Kaiju Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 171: The Honorable THUNDERDOME CLXXI Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 172: Thunderdome Startup Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 173: Pilgrim's Progress Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 174: Ladles and Jellyspoons Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 175: Speels of Magic Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 176: Florida Man and/or Woman Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 125: Thunderdome is Coming to Town -- Our sparkly past! SH, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, Grizzled Patriarch, and Bad Seafood Week 177: Sparkly Mermen 2: Electric Merman Boogaloo SH, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, Grizzled Patriarch, and Bad Seafood Week 178: I'm not mad, just disappointed Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 179: Strange Logs Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 180: Maybe I'm a Maze Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 181: We like bloodsports and we don't care who knows! Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 182: Domegrassi Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, and Bad Seafood Week 183: Sorry Dad, I Was Late To The Riots Sitting Here, Djeser, Kaishai, and crabrock Week 184: The 2015teen Great White Elephant Prompt Exchange Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 98: Music of the Night -- Songs of another decade Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 185: Music of the Night, Vol. II Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 186: Giving away prizes for doing f'd-up things Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 187: Lost In Translation Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 188: Insomniac Olympics Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 189: knight time Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 190: Three-Course Tale Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 191: We Talk Good Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 192: Really Entertaining Minific Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 30: We're 30 / Time to get dirty -- A magical time Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 193: the worst week Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 40: Poor Richard's Thundervision -- Let the ESC begin! Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 144: Doming Lasha Tumbai -- Classic performances Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 194: Only Mr. God Knows Why Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 195: Inverse World Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 196: Molten Copper vs. Thunderdome Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 197: Stories of Powerful Ambition & Poor Impulse Control Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 198: Buddy Stuff Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 199: EVERYBODY KNOWS poo poo'S hosed Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 1: Man Agonizes over Potatoes -- A dirty, painful birth Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Kaishai, and sebmojo Week 200: Taters Gonna tate Fuckers Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Kaishai, and sebmojo Week 201: Old Russian Joke Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 202: THUNDER-O-S! Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 203: MYSTERY SOLVING TEENS Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 204: Hate Week Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 205: the book of forgotten names Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 206: WHIZZ! Bang! POW! Thunderdome! Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 207: Bottle Your Rage Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 208: Upper-Class Tweet of the Year Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 209: WHAT DO YOU GET A DOME THAT HAS EVERYTHING?? Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 210: Crit Ketchup Week Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 211: Next-Best Friend Week Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 212: Vice Week Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 213: Punked Out Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 214: THUNDERDOME ALL-STAR TRIBUTE Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Kaishai, and The Saddest Rhino Week 215: El sueño de la razón produce el Thunderdome Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 216: Historical Redemption (or: Sin, Lizzie) Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai Week 217: SOCIAL JUSTICE WARRIORS, ATTACK! Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 218: Duel Nature Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 219: cos wer goffik Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 152: Rhymes with Red, White, and Blue -- Voidmart opens! Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 220: Enter the Voidmart Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 221: The Escape of the Bad Words. Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 123: Ceci N'est Pas une Nouvelle -- Surreal history Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, and Bad Seafood Week 222: Deliver Us From Bad Prompting Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, and Bad Seafood Week 223: Dear Thunderdome Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Week 224: I Wanna Dome You Like An Animal Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai Special Features! The Top Ten poo poo Scenes of Thunderdome Sitting Here, Kaishai, Ironic Twist, and Djeser
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Dec 7, 2016 05:41
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Dec 7, 2016 09:33
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Dec 7, 2016 10:12
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You know what, in. Two weeks off feels like enough time for a break. I guess Flash Rule me, too.
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Dec 7, 2016 17:22
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Dec 7, 2016 17:31
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Weather Forecast: Thundersnow Weather Forecast: Heavy rain Weather Forecast: n/m judging this week widespread posted:You know what, in. Two weeks off feels like enough time for a break. Weather Forecast: Freezing Rain Your story is set in the future. Weather Forecast: Firestorm Hawklad fucked around with this message at 17:20 on Dec 8, 2016 |
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Dec 7, 2016 18:43
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Also, appreciate the crits, Sitting Here! ...and is this the appropriate time to start groveling for judges? Hawklad fucked around with this message at 18:51 on Dec 7, 2016 |
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Dec 7, 2016 18:43
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In.
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Dec 7, 2016 18:57
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Weather Forecast: Rainbows
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Dec 7, 2016 19:22
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In!
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Dec 7, 2016 21:04
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Weather Forecast: Aurora Borealis
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Dec 7, 2016 22:13
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Hawklad posted:Also, appreciate the crits, Sitting Here! I'll judge. Some stuff has come up that has made entering not very convenient but judging would be good.
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Dec 8, 2016 00:53
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I'm in with a flash rule!
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Dec 8, 2016 07:46
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In because my last final is on Saturday!
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Dec 8, 2016 12:07
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In. Flash. My finals are next week and I have a paper that's due Saturday so I guess this is hard mode.
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Dec 8, 2016 13:12
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Maigius posted:I'm in with a flash rule! Weather Forecast: Sleet Your story must involve some kind of a sport or sporting event. llamaguccii posted:In because my last final is on Saturday! Weather Forecast: Overcast skies Flesnolk posted:In. Flash. A gun is fired. newtestleper posted:I'll judge. Some stuff has come up that has made entering not very convenient but judging would be good. Awesome thanks! Anyone else up for it?
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Dec 8, 2016 18:06
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Signups closed. Write like the wind!
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Dec 10, 2016 08:23
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You're going to get a lot of farts
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Dec 10, 2016 15:40
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crabrock posted:You're going to get a lot of farts That was already assured. How about that third judge, huh?
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Dec 10, 2016 19:05
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To Capture the Clouds Wordcount: 1305. Theme: Aurora borealis. Ever since his fourteenth birthday a month ago, Stéfan had felt a worry gripping him. It weighed on him like a lead weight tied around his neck, creating an awful pressure at the very base of his skull. Mamma had asked him last week what was bothering him, and at the time he’d been unable to come up with an answer. But he’d continued to think about it, and he’d come to the realization that the problem, the source of the anxiety, was a fear that every door before him was slamming shut. And soon, much too soon for him to stop it, they would all be shut, and he would be forced to live the rest of his life in and as a disappointment. Stéfan had wanted, since he could conceive the notion, to be an explorer. A scientist. He wanted to make some sort of discovery that would change the world, even in a small way. As a child, he’d told everyone that he was the descendent of Leifur Eiríksson. It was, of course, a lie. But, when he was little, he’d figured it was a small one, and it let everyone know what he was about. He wanted to be a modern-day Viking, an explorer for the nineteenth century. The problem started a few days before his birthday, when his friend Þór’s father, a hobbyist scientist himself, had brought a hot air balloon from France. As a kind of early birthday present, he let Stéfan ride in it. The sight of so much of the land and sea beyond Akureyri had been incredible. When he landed, he ran home to tell his father about it. “That’s amazing,” his father had said, genuinely impressed with the sight of the balloon from the fields outside of their home, “it makes me wonder: do you think we’ve discovered everything? I can’t imagine there’s much left.” The thought had consumed Stéfan ever since. What if there was nothing left? What if he’d been born too late to fulfill his only dream? Realizing that Þór’s father may be able to help, he went to their farm in the dwindling light of the Icelandic autumn. But, to his disappointment, he wasn’t there. Þór explained that he had gone to Reykjavík on business, and wouldn’t be back for another few days. Seeing the disappointment on Stéfan’s face, Þór asked what was wrong, and so he had told him the whole story. Where Stéfan liked to dream, and dream big, Þór was great with his hands and knew how to plan to the last detail. They made for excellent friends. Stéfan stayed for hours talking, and then through dinner. He laughed for what felt like the first time in weeks. By the time Þór showed him out the front door, night had long since fallen, a hallmark of the four hour autumn days. Despite the new moon, the path to Akureyri was well lit. Looking up, Stéfan saw the strange, glowing mists of the aurora. The precious times of year when the aurora visited were among his favorites. It lit and danced like fire, but the air was never warmer. And the colors… no one could ever make those colors. It was a perpetual, captivating mystery over their heads, seemingly tauntingly close. No one really understood what it was. No one really understood what it was. “Þór,” Stéfan asked, slowly, feeling a warmth in his chest he’d almost forgotten, “what do you think the aurora is?” “I think it’s a bridge!” the other boy replied, laughing, “clouds, maybe?” “Did your Pabbi say that he had taken his balloon above the clouds one time, when they were low?” With this, Þór’s eyes lit up, understanding. They quickly put together a plan. By this point, Þór had taken the balloon up many times with his father, and was confident he could fly it, even at night. At this time of year, at the time of day they would be flying, the winds would have almost completely died down. They knew that the aurora was at least slightly higher than the normal clouds, but Þór said that was no matter. They could get the balloon high enough.The few clouds had been low the last few days, obscuring the mountains to the south. The same forces, Stéfan reasoned, could force the aurora low enough for what they wanted to do. When Þór’s father had gone above the clouds, he used an empty bottle that was with him to capture some cloud. It had turned into a small amount of water, and the sealed bottle sat in Þór’s kitchen, a trophy of sorts. Þór had found a handful of similar bottles, and stowed them in the balloon. They would launch the balloon and get high enough to touch the aurora… touch the aurora! and capture some in their bottles to bring back for someone to study. The whole next day, Stéfan couldn’t stop smiling. At last, the time had come. Þór was surprised to find Stéfan already sitting in the basket of the balloon when he came outside. “Have you been here long?” “Not really, I just got here. A little anxious, you know.” In fact, it had been half an hour. He had rushed through his chores, secretly leaving some vegetables unpicked for tomorrow. He’d barely slept, thinking only about the journey they were about to undertake. Just as soon as they finished preparing the balloon, quietly so as to not disturb Þór’s mother, the aurora began to fill the sky, as if invited. In no time, the balloon had started to lift. They went higher, and higher— it wasn’t until he spotted the tops of the foothills that Stéfan realized how much above his earlier birthday flight they were going. Under the glowing light, he could see the low clouds clinging to the tops of the lowest mountains. They were now above even those. He looked up, seeing the aurora cling determinedly to the sky, growing no closer. “I think we still have a little more to give it,” Þór shouted. The burner roared. By the landmarks below them, Stéfan could tell they were climbing. But still the aurora came no closer. He continued to look at the dancing light, praying, not daring to look down, as though that might ruin their chance. After a while, Þór spoke as softly as he could while still being heard. “Stéfan, I’m so sorry. That’s all we have. I guess they’re not clouds after all.” Stéfan sank to the floor of the basket, defeated. This was supposed to work, he thought. He covered his face with his gloved hands so as not to be seen crying. The burner grew quieter as Þór began to bring the balloon down. “Stéfan,” Þór said, “look. I think you should see this.” Stéfan stood, and begrudgingly walked to the edge of the basket. He looked down, and he saw what Þór was trying to show him. He had been so focused on the aurora that he hadn’t really thought about what was beneath them. Akureyri sat, a small light. The rocks of Iceland stretched to the south, seemingly infinitely into the dark. To the north, the fjord flowed and widened, the ocean visible beyond. And, for the first time since his birthday, Stéfan was at peace. With so much to see, even just from their little balloon, he knew that there was so much more to be discovered and understood. His story was just beginning, and no one would write it before he got there. He watched for a long time, as the balloon slowly descended, before speaking. “So,” Stéfan said, “I think we’re closer to the aurora than anyone else has ever been. That’s pretty remarkable, right?” “Yeah, I think it is.”
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Dec 11, 2016 04:46
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