This topic is currently marked as "dormant"—the last message is more than 90 days old. You can revive it by posting a reply.
1mirrani
Neither of them gave Orrin a second glance and Skyla soon realized why; people everywhere had ornamental animals. Some wore snakes around their necks and waits; others had rats or lizards in their pockets.
Awh... people carry rats in their pockets. I'll live there. :)
The door leading to the waiting room was a narrative of The Last Supper at the bottom, with the crucifixion at the center and the resurrection at the top. If you read it the other way, it was the story of two women who discover a homeless man in a tomb, then dried him out on a cross to heal his wounds only to have the man buy all their friends dinner without inviting them. Everything was context.
I laughed at this. I couldn't help it. What would all of our paintings look like to people who didn't know what they were representations of? Well.. here we go.
Harold never argued with his father, because he understood that his father was part of the machinery as well, and the machinery made sense. The only time they had ever disagreed, the entire debate lasted thirty seconds and consisted of three sentences:
"Father, I'd like to go into the Tinker's Guild when I graduate."
"Nonsense. You'll study accounting and get a good job at your uncle's bank. You'll thank me for it, Harry."
"Okay."
The character development here is really very interesting and well done, I thought. It does come full circle later.
He would have said "In the way that gears made sense to a watch builder," but Harold always felt a little sad when he thought about it that way and sadness was like quicksand, catching you unaware and pulling you in the more you fought it. It was best to just avoid the entire swamp, stay on the path and keep moving.
There we go, more wisdom.
What had been on that table was no longer his daughter. The machinery tht had so precisely directed the course of his life had become a meat grinder. It chewed up the women he loved and spit them out into unrecognizable slabs.
/Slabs of meat,/ he thought with a chuckle. /We really are all just slabs of meat in the end. It doesn't matter who you love or what you do. We are just walking slabs of meat./
Profound stuff. This dealing with his loss of wife and child.
About 79% of the way through, you realize that you're not just reading a ghost story, things are scientifically explained and that is very interesting.
Awh... people carry rats in their pockets. I'll live there. :)
The door leading to the waiting room was a narrative of The Last Supper at the bottom, with the crucifixion at the center and the resurrection at the top. If you read it the other way, it was the story of two women who discover a homeless man in a tomb, then dried him out on a cross to heal his wounds only to have the man buy all their friends dinner without inviting them. Everything was context.
I laughed at this. I couldn't help it. What would all of our paintings look like to people who didn't know what they were representations of? Well.. here we go.
Harold never argued with his father, because he understood that his father was part of the machinery as well, and the machinery made sense. The only time they had ever disagreed, the entire debate lasted thirty seconds and consisted of three sentences:
"Father, I'd like to go into the Tinker's Guild when I graduate."
"Nonsense. You'll study accounting and get a good job at your uncle's bank. You'll thank me for it, Harry."
"Okay."
The character development here is really very interesting and well done, I thought. It does come full circle later.
He would have said "In the way that gears made sense to a watch builder," but Harold always felt a little sad when he thought about it that way and sadness was like quicksand, catching you unaware and pulling you in the more you fought it. It was best to just avoid the entire swamp, stay on the path and keep moving.
There we go, more wisdom.
What had been on that table was no longer his daughter. The machinery tht had so precisely directed the course of his life had become a meat grinder. It chewed up the women he loved and spit them out into unrecognizable slabs.
/Slabs of meat,/ he thought with a chuckle. /We really are all just slabs of meat in the end. It doesn't matter who you love or what you do. We are just walking slabs of meat./
Profound stuff. This dealing with his loss of wife and child.
About 79% of the way through, you realize that you're not just reading a ghost story, things are scientifically explained and that is very interesting.
3marlanesque
Harold actually grew into one of my favorite characters while writing this book. I'm happy to say there will be more of him in the sequel.
