Kenji De Sade (pigpupsf) wrote in writingcritic,
Kenji De Sade

First time member, First time poster

Crit: Mod-Harsh (both would work well for what i'm looking for)

Hi there!
I'm new to the community. I've never reached out to attempt to join a writing group or community, but it's been a great interest in my life since childhood, so i figured i should give it a shot and see what comes of it. There is an awfull lot of fear that comes along with presenting ones own work in any type of open forum. So forgive me if i tred lightly at first, tho i am sure most of you can empathize.

For my first post here, i've got this idea for a super hero story. Only i can't write it yet. Theres a lot of choices about how to write it i have to make. What kinds of characters i want to use. All sorts of things i just can't decide on. But, i've got the groundwork. So i decided to turn that groundwork into a short fairy tale. Something i could look to as a story outline. Because the general mode for outlines (as i've found them) just dosen't spark enough interest for me to create one. I decided it'd probobly be pretty cool to get the fairy tale out there and see what people thought. Give my story a chance to be seen, just incase i never ACTUALLY write it.

Please, if you have a moment, give it a read and let me know what you think.

The Dreamer
By K. C. Green

Once upon a time there was a boy who lived on a farm far from any city or town. It was a small farm which had been passed down from father to son for generations. The boy spent most of his days learning how to work the farm. How to handle the livestock, tend the fields, and keep things running. One day the farm would be his to tend, his to watch over, it was his destiny.

However, in what little time the boy had away from tending the farm, he dreamt of a life without the farm. More then that, he dreamt of lives beyond the farm. He imagined various posibilitities, many ways in which his life might be different if his destiny had not bee charted out by the fathers of his fathers fathers. Years passed and they boy grew. Tending the live stock, the fields, his chores, and anything else his father could dream up on the farm day after day.

When the boy came of age for it, his mother provided an education which took up hours previously reserved for day dreaming. This education brought the boy the ability to read, which he did with much fervor. Unlocking world after world of posibilitities he'd never imagined. He'd work the farm steadfast everyday, waiting for his chance to be assigned a new book from his mother. Still years passed, and the boy became a man.

The man who was once the boy built a family with a bride whom had been betrothed to him before either were aware of their own existence. His mother and father grew old. The man and his bride were blessed with children. The man raised his children as his parents had raised him. Though his children were of a far different mind then his own. As his mother and father passed, his children blossomed and grew tiered of the farm. As the man and his wife grew to old age, the children left the farm to seek out lives of their own. Through it all, the man who had once been the boy dreamed of lives beyond the one he lived. Years passed, as did the mans wife.

The man lie old and weary, the farm long since dead with no one to tend it, and he cried for the waste of a life he'd lived. He felt ashamed to have spent so many years doing as he was expected and not having had the mind of his children to fallow his many dreams. Word came round near every week of his children's happiness beyond the farm. Word came round more often then anyone happened by. The old man who had once been the man who had once been the boy spent his days alone with nothing and no one to comfort him other then his dreams.

Thousands of dreams of thousands of lives never lived beyond the now dead and forgotten farm. Thousands and thousands of dreams which after so many years bled together over and over to finally become one dream. One final crystallized ideal for the old man who had once been the man who had once been the boy who now was to be no more.

As the final moments came the old man dreamt his last dream. He dreamt he was able to go on beyond the farm and see the world he'd never seen. He dreamt of cities, towns and people unlike any he'd dreamt before. He felt the dream more vividly then he'd ever felt any dream. He could see the people, the lives they lived, more intricately then he'd ever dreamed possible. More then anything, he saw the lives these people lived.

He watched as long as his dream would let him. Allowed as many lives as he could to unfold before him. He studied every moment, every feeling, every second of every life he could stand to witness. In all those lives, he saw reflection of his own. People all over the world within his dream that felt just as he had all his life. Forced into lives they did not want, passions unfulfilled, dreams that remained only dreams. The old man who had once been the man who had once been the boy watched the lives of countless people whom had never and would never live their dreams. As the old mans life came to an end he dreamt that he could help all of those people live the lives they all wanted.

What the old man did not know was that, although what he felt he was seeing was a dream, it truly was the world which he'd never seen. The lives he'd watched truly were the lives of countless people. Those people truly did feel as he had all his life. Every man, every woman, every little boy and girl the man had born witness too had shared a pain he'd felt all his life. When the moment came for his life to end he truly did give those people something to help them realize their dreams.

As the entire world woke to a brand new day, people all over its blue surface woke to a world much different to the one they'd left to sleep the day before. A young child who had dreamt of one day living on the moon woke to find herself on her bedroom ceiling. A man whom had dreamt of one day singing the most perfect sound any ear had ever heard, woke to find that when he spoke, everyone listened. A woman who had dreamed that no one would ever be able to hurt her, woke to find that she could not be hurt. Countless people in countless places woke up to find countless changes to the world they had expected to wake too.

Many of them were terrified of what they woke to find. Some of them took an immediate liking to what they had become. Some realized their dreams. Some built new dreams. None of them understood how it was possible, where it had come from, or what it meant. Neither did the other people in the world who did not wake up to find that they selves had changed. To those many people, the only change in the world they woke up to, were those who had woken changed themselves.

People everywhere presented theories as of to what could have caused the changes. Some said it was an act of the gods, others claimed it was evolution. Some said it was the hand of the devil, others said it was a perversion brought by the hand of man. Some even laid claim that they themselves had been the great catalyst and others still believed every word. No one thought the changes were caused by a dream.

Those who's lives had been changed delt with their changes in many ways. They took their changes and created new lives. Some of those lives were the lives they had always dreamed they would have, others were lives they had never dreamed possible, and some were still lives they had never truly wanted. The lives were lived, and the people who's lives had been changed, as well as the people who's lives had not been changed, all lived till they lived no more.
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There are a number of spelling and grammatical errors here. Would you like me to alert you to them?
yes please! and thank you kindly for the offer! if it's best that we correspond further on this matter via e-mail i can be reached at kenjidesade (at) gmail (dot) com