# Toy Captors, Flash Fiction, 258 Words.



## Miles-Kirk (Aug 29, 2014)

_I like to personify things that do not have a voice. Hope you enjoy, criticism very much welcomed. _

Above I hear the creaking and gyrating of metal gears that are operating the contraption that contains us. It is day 727 and I am running out of area upon the walls to etch in the corresponding numerals, with only a broken button as a tool. We are packed together like sardines in an air tight can, no room to wiggle and feel the fresh air douse my skin, no privacy to have a moment of respite, nowhere to hide, every pair of eyes boring into your soul if you dare try to escape. The sound is getting louder; the whizzing of steel upon iron is terrifying. You can almost smell the rust floating about the stale air that resides within the prison that dominates us. 

 Every so often the mechanical torturer opens its pincers and swings up, down, left and right, choosing the best, the one to interrogate. Gleaming in the sunlight it drew closer, snatching with hope for one of us. Sometimes we evade as best we can, but with not a particle of movement scarce between us, it's only a matter of time before the game is lost. 

 It began the descent. The muffled cries of everyone around me drown out my thoughts, blockading my emotions to my inevitable fate. I feel the coolness ensnare me and I am lifted away. I am free, I concluded, but what is my next prison? What maniac is to be my captor, what will I have to endure? I mumble to myself, day 1 of a new misery.


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## escorial (Aug 30, 2014)

interesting concept


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## Ari (Aug 30, 2014)

*Escorial* is right; it's an interesting concept. 
And to be honest, it isn't really much more. Maybe because this piece is so short, maybe because there's no emotion there. Your narrator doesn't feel anything at all. He's just there.

Here's some nit-picks for you:

*Above I hear the creaking and gyrating of metal gears that are operating the contraption that contains us.* 
- This is not the best description ever. 'Contraption' doesn't help me to imagine the place at all. A contraption can be anything! What are the walls made of? Is the metal contraption like a lid on the room? I can't imagine it if you don't give me some clues...   

*It is day 727 and I am running out of area upon the walls to etch in the corresponding numerals, with only a broken button as a tool.*
- Okay, so the room must be really small because writing from 1 to 727 isn't going to take up that much room. And you say he's running out of area on the walls so it implies that he's moved around to the different walls. But you say that they're packet so tightly in they're not even trying to move away from the choosing machine. It also implies that there's some way for him to tell day from night. How?

*We are packed together like sardines in an air tight can, no room to wiggle...* - air tight? They would have breathed up all the air and be dead by now. But in the same sentence you say there's fresh air, so where's that coming from?

*... every pair of eyes boring into your soul if you dare try to escape.* - and how exactly did he try to escape when there's so little room? And where was he aiming for? Is there a door? Was he trying to dig out the walls with his button? 

*Sometimes we evade as best we can, but with not a particle of movement scarce between us* - if there's not a particle of movement between you, you can't move at all! Evasive action entirely impossible. 

*I feel the coolness ensnare me and I am lifted away* - You said it had pincers. So where did they grab? Why doesn't it hurt?

The last thing I'll say is that if you're brave enough to shove this many people into a tiny prison for so long, you're brave enough to describe it properly. They can't move, so (excuse crass language) they're going to be pissing where they stand. And they can't wash. This place is going to stink like hell. People will be getting seriously sick. Some will have died, and dead bodies among them will make the stink worse and the sickness spread faster. I mean, they've been in there for more than two years! 

The end ^_^


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## Theglasshouse (Aug 30, 2014)

Interesting concept, you could fully flesh out some more and make it into a plot. It would be a shame not to do so. Lot's of potential to do so. Read some fiction. Keep it in microsoft word. Keep writing and reworking it, and come back to it each time adding something new.


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## Miles-Kirk (Aug 30, 2014)

Thanks for the criticism guys, to be fair, I wrote this while doing free writing, which I should of explained prior. So, a lot of the elements don't make sense. The concept is of a toy, stuck in one of those game toy machines, just to give a bit of clarity. I realise this is very raw, so I shall flesh it out and make it more of a story. Thanks


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## Ari (Aug 30, 2014)

Miles-Kirk said:


> [...] The concept is of a toy, stuck in one of those game toy machines [...]



Wow. That went so far over my head I didn't even hear the whistle.


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## Miles-Kirk (Aug 30, 2014)

I can't tell if that's sarcasm or not.


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## Ari (Aug 31, 2014)

It wasn't sarcasm. I honestly did not get that your story was about toys in a chance machine. It kind of made everything I said in my critique redundant.

I am vaguely embarrassed about it.


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## Miles-Kirk (Aug 31, 2014)

Some of it still stands, let me know with that context in mind if there is anything, at all, that should be took into consideration. Don't be embarrassed, the concept isn't that well explained, to be fair.


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## Ari (Aug 31, 2014)

Only that if he's a stuffed toy, now he can't really scratch against the glass with the button at all. And I'd still wonder how the escape thing would work, but other than that...
Maybe try make it clearer what you're writing about so people like me understand?


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## jakegenebarnes (Sep 6, 2014)

Above I hear the creaking and gyrating of metal gears that are operating  the contraption that contains us. This is not a good description. The "contraption" is the device making noise above them, correct? So how are they contained by it? They are trapped in a box and the mechanism above is generating a "grinding" sound, or a "grating" sound. I don't like the use of "creaky" or "gyrating" to describe the noise. It is day 727 and I am running out of  area upon the walls to etch in the corresponding numerals, with only a  broken button as a tool. We are packed together like sardines in an air  tight can, no room to wiggle and feel the fresh air douse my skin, no  privacy to have a moment of respite, nowhere to hide, every pair of eyes  boring into your soul if you dare try to escape. The sound is getting  louder; the whizzing of steel upon iron is terrifying. You can almost  smell the rust floating about the stale air that resides within the  prison that dominates us. I'm reminded of "the claw" from Toy Story. LOL. I don't understand how he can etch anything into the walls with his "broken button" if he's packed in like a sardine with no room to wiggle. I don't think that air can, "douse" anyone's skin. "...privacy to have a moment of respite..." feels redundant. Aside from "...every pair of eyes boring into your soul..." what is keeping him from attempting escape? Surely the eyes of onlookers would not be enough to stay him. "...the whizzing of steel upon iron..." is goofy. I would do some research and figure out exactly how those claw machines are constructed so you can make the description more believable.     

 Every so often the mechanical torturer opens its pincers and swings up, down, left and right
	
,  choosing the best, the one to interrogate. Gleaming in the sunlight The machine is outside? it  drew closer, snatching with hope Snatching with hope? Why is the claw hopeful? Can the claw be hopeful? What makes the narrator think that it's hopeful? for one of us. Sometimes we evade as  best we can, but with not a particle of movement scarce between us how are they actively evading the claw, and at the same time, not moving "a particle"?, it's  only a matter of time before the game is lost. So, the narrator views it as a game? Why? What reason does he have for viewing it that way? He seems to be taking all this very seriously, and is unaware of the true nature of his captivity, but still uses the word "game"?

 It began the descent. The muffled cries of everyone around me drown out  my thoughts, blockading my emotions to my inevitable fate. I feel the  coolness ensnare me and I am lifted away. I am free, I concluded, but  what is my next prison? What maniac is to be my captor, what will I have  to endure? I mumble to myself, day 1 of a new misery. I wasn't aware that he was in danger of being ensnared until the moment he was. That provides no suspense or tension. Surely he would have noticed the claw aiming for him specifically prior to his capture. And how does he know anything about life beyond the small box that has been his home? How does he know that "misery" awaits beyond? How does he know he will have to "endure" anything? He shouldn't be able to know these things, and if he does, you have to explain why.


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## ak2190 (Sep 7, 2014)

We are packed together like sardines in an air tight can, no room to wiggle and feel the fresh air douse my skin, no privacy to have a moment of respite, nowhere to hide, every pair of eyes boring into your soul if you dare try to escape. 

This sentence has way too many commas. Other than that, I like the concept you set up about a presumably inanimate object being personified (the claw?). The ending could be a bit stronger.


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## JC.Axe (Sep 8, 2014)

It's good, well written, but I think as Ari said, it is merely a description of a place and a scenario. I've no doubt you'd be very good at introducing a scene in a novel or short story. With a little more colour and character I could see your writing being very compelling.

JC Axe


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## -xXx- (Apr 27, 2015)

Hi Miles-Kirk.

I'm happy I did understand that it was a claw machine. 
Micro-mini's are also my favorite storytelling style.



Miles-Kirk said:


> It is day 727 and I am running out of area upon the walls to etch in the corresponding numerals, with only a broken button as a tool.


I agree with the change to "wall" or possibly "panels".



Miles-Kirk said:


> We are packed together like sardines in an air tight can, no room to wiggle and feel the fresh air douse my skin, no privacy to have a moment of respite, nowhere to hide, every pair of eyes boring into your soul if you dare try to escape.


Alternative wording suggestion:
 We are packed together like sardines in a can, no room to wiggle and no fresh air to douse my skin, no private respite, nowhere to hide, every pair of eyes boring into your soul as if you dare try to escape.



Miles-Kirk said:


> Gleaming in the sunlight it drew closer, snatching with hope for one of us.


Present tense: draws



Miles-Kirk said:


> It began the descent. The muffled cries of everyone around me drown out my thoughts, blockading my emotions to my inevitable fate.


Present tense: begins, drowns



Miles-Kirk said:


> I am free, I concluded, but what is my next prison?


Present tense: conclude



Miles-Kirk said:


> I mumble to myself, day 1 of a new misery.


Alternative word suggestion:
"Day one," I mumble to my dwindling button.

I like this scenario and would love to see you use it as a sort of impressionism canvas, metaphorically speaking. 
Create 3 that "feel" discrete.

I'll be looking for more of your writing.


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