# Speculum [1125 words]



## Rookish (Feb 4, 2016)

_

                                                               Speculum




Will they never leave me alone? _


 A man was reflected in the mirror.
 No hat was worn, his hair neatly combed to the sides.
 He wore a crisp brown overcoat, with shirt and trousers that mimicked the blackness of his hair.

_This is how they force me to appear._

 Faint echoes of the waiting audience slithered into his room, echoes filled with anticipatory delight.
 His face contorted at the sound, contorted as he stepped into the hallway, as he walked towards his servitude.
 Suddenly the voices were snuffed out, a hush descending over a thousand seated souls.
 The man now stood next to a stage, the mirror left behind, his reflection dead.

 “Ladies and gentlemen, lovers of mystery and magical delights!” bellowed a portly announcer from atop the stage.

 Excitement now openly flared over the faces of the audience, eagerly awaiting the show that was to come.
 The announcer thrust his arms dramatically into the air, somehow holding the gaze of everyone at once in his twinkling eyes.

“I give you now none other than Edmus the Exalted, a sourcerous conjurer the likes of which you have never seen!”

 The voice echoed throughout the hall, it’s ominous connotation forcing itself into the man’s mind, the man that stood behind the curtains. Slowly he left their obscuring embrace, striding with a rigid posture onto the stage as the corpulent announcer left it. Alone he stood now, the man known as Edmus. 
 A large box on wheels trundled towards him, the head of a docile ram sticking from a circular opening. It came to an abrupt halt in front of the conjurer.

 “Observe if you will, ladies and gentlemen, how Edmus cuts this sheep in twain. Watch in wonder as the beast lives on after the event,” said the announcer’s disembodied voice.

_They force me to distort the universe._

 Edmus snapped his fingers, power flowing through his whole being.
 The air around him sparkled green for the briefest of moments as a longsword popped into existence, it’s hilt falling perfectly into his open palm.
 As a surprised gasp rose from the audience he gripped the weapon in both hands, positioning himself in front of the box. He stared into the creature’s eyes, eyes that mirrored a sharply dressed man.

_Is this to be my eternal fate?_

 The sword’s blade began to rhythmically emanate a blue pulse, as if the steel itself was coming to life.
 Edmus swung the weapon down in a swift motion, metal cutting through wood, flesh and bone with no resistance.
Innards spilled onto the wooden stage-planks in a torrent of blood, with splinters and chunks of wood falling onto the grim carnage. 
 The ram’s tortured bleats mixed with terrified cries from the audience, their voices filled with apprehensive horror. 
 A child started to weep as the animal’s eyes rolled into the back of it’s skull.
 The magician ignored all of this, his face remaining expressionless.

 “Rise,” he commanded, pointing the bloodied sword towards the ceiling.

 Pieces of wood flamed out of existence as the stage filled with a wall of smoke.
 It remained there, billowing wraithlike, for a few seconds. 
 Then it flowed into the audience, growing sparser until it dissipated into nothingness.

 A profound surprise suddenly gripped the hall as awestruck faces stared at the stage.
 Edmus stood next to the ram. It was alive and visibly calm with no signs of wounds or even a flicker of terror in it’s bearing. 
The shattered box was no more, with the magician holding a top hat instead of a sword.

_For them I must bend time and summon death._

 “Shocked? Awed?” the announcer bellowed through the intercom. “This is but the first of many wonders that shall transpire tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Observe now as Edmus the Exalted summons forth from a mere hat things eldritch and impossible!” 

 Power swirled through Edmus’s body as dimensions twisted and turned. 
His performance continued for more than an hour as he grew trees from tabletops and transformed curtains into swarms of moths.
Members of the audience had their hair turned into roses, eels swam through the aisles as mice rode dodos.


Then, the performance ceased to be and Edmus once again faced his reflection in the mirror.





They strode briskly through the bare hallway, passing walls of pure white and steel doors locked and barred from the outside. Victor held a clipboard as the numbered rooms flashed by. 

“Has there been any betterment of his state? Have any of the treatments been effective?” Elreasa asked the young psychiatrist.

 “Regrettably, no. He’s about the same as when he came in, never expressing strong emotions but always...talking.”

 “The board have reached a decision, Victor. He’s a danger to himself and others. If I observe no improvement, we must enact their decision.”

 “I understand.”

 “Then try your best to make him understand as well.” 

 After some time they finally stopped outside of room 134.
 Victor took the key from his neck and unlocked the door. The heavy bolt was slid aside and the door opened.
 As Elreasa entered the room, she saw the straitjacketed patient sitting with his face to the wall. His hair was long and unkempt. 
He was slowly rocking back and forth, taking no note of them.

 “Will they never leave me alone?” he said in a calm tone while staring dead-eyed at the wall

 “Haro? It’s me,” Victor said. “You have to listen to me Haro. We want to help you, we want you to get better. But you have to talk to us, you have to help us help you.”

 “Why do they force my servitude?” 

 Elreasa and Victor stayed in room 134 for the better half of an hour, trying to coax a response from  Haro. He never even acknowledged their presence. 
She had finally grown convinced that he was not aware of their presence, that his consciousness was confined to a realm of fantasy. 
Victor had hoped that now of all times they would reach him, but she realized that there was nothing more they could do. 
Haro was too unstable, for he had murdered four people before being confined to their care. His current state was identical to that of seven months ago. For how long had he been like this before the murders? What could have driven a human being to such a severe degree of insanity?

 “We have to abide by the board’s judgment, Victor. We...we have to perform the procedure,” Elreasa said in a melancholic tone. 





On the bloodied turf of a battlefield, Sir Lewald lay dying, his guts spilled unto the ground. 
 As the last slithers of life left his body, he stared at his gauntlets.
 Gauntlets from which his sword had disappeared.


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## kinetika (Feb 5, 2016)

Very nice imagery and detail. What I like is that you were able to convey a lot with few words, and that first line really hooked me. It was simple, but powerful. I'd definitely read more, if you were to post anymore. And if it's not too much to ask, do you have a synopsis for the story?


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## Rookish (Feb 5, 2016)

kinetika said:


> Very nice imagery and detail. What I like is that you were able to convey a lot with few words, and that first line really hooked me. It was simple, but powerful.



Thank you, I'm glad you liked it.
I was wondering whether some parts were too simplistic, with the focus mainly on the audience the hall has no definite description.
Perhaps a brief image in a single sentence would suffice.



kinetika said:


> I'd definitely read more, if you were to post anymore. And if it's not too much to ask, do you have a synopsis for the story?



The idea struck me after midnight and I worked on it from there, my original vague outline did not consider a continuation of the tale.
After some pondering though, I can see ways to progress it.
May spend my sleeplessness on coming up with a broader structure. 
:bigsmurf:


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## kinetika (Feb 5, 2016)

Ah, well, it's good nonetheless. What I thought after reading this is that all three meet somehow and take on some sort of struggle, whether it's personal for all of them or simply to 'save the world'. Each one (of course, I don't know about the third, yet) seems to have a glaring character flaw of some sort. I might be overthinking what you wrote, but my mind tends to create more than what's actually there.

And about the theatre/hall, I guess you could add more detail to that, but it didn't really bother me. I kind of created my own setting there. The interactions in that scene were far more important and didn't really need an overly descriptive background to supplement them. Some may think otherwise, though.


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## SomethingWitty (May 20, 2016)

Nice! Your word economy is admirable! So much ground covered in such a short time.

You had me at _eldritch_...

I did not feel that anything was too simplistic. I was able to envision the hall without effort, for the record. Good work!


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## Randy_Mordoc (May 20, 2016)

I was having a very hard time envisioning what I was supposed to envision. I think this piece needed a little more concrete description instead of vague sentences.


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## Bard_Daniel (May 22, 2016)

Hey Rookish!

I really enjoyed this. If this would have been an early chapter or a preview of a book I would have definitely picked it up. I like your style of writing. It's very direct and, for me at least, kept me very interested.

If it's not too much to ask, though, I'm not sure I understood the ending, which makes me feel as if I missed the boat. Could you maybe explain it to me?


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## Rookish (May 24, 2016)

....the universe is a strange place, I've been away from here for a while, talked to someone about this piece I posted, logged on and beheld new commentary. 
Eh well, time to return 'ere and start writing again, methinks.
{Please excuse the lessened quality of me writings, by brain has not been seriously occupied with English linguistics for quite some time}



kinetika said:


> Ah, well, it's good nonetheless. What I thought  after reading this is that all three meet somehow and take on some sort  of struggle, whether it's personal for all of them or simply to 'save  the world'. Each one (of course, I don't know about the third, yet)  seems to have a glaring character flaw of some sort. I might be  overthinking what you wrote, but my mind tends to create more than  what's actually there.



I like that idea ^.^

Perhaps a manifestation of Haro's powers can lead the whitecoats to rescue him from his captivity, either to save a man who did not murder but was invaded by some strange force, or to prevent the threat of the procedure from unleashing terrible horrors brought on by his innate will to survive.

I did not pay attention to the personalities of Elreasa and Victor, but with an improvement of their interactions and a fleshing out of their histories and tale can be forged.



SomethingWitty said:


> Nice! Your word economy is admirable! So much ground covered in such a short time.
> 
> You had me at _eldritch_...
> 
> I did not feel that anything was too simplistic. I was able to envision  the hall without effort, for the record. Good work!



I thank you, SomethingWitty! 
Eldritch has become a cherished word in me head [Pratchett, and then Lovecraft, are to blame : )]

Interestingly, I feel that other tales I have written are quite rambling and prone to fizzling out intermediately. 
I am glad that you believe this piece to be economical, and will definitely try to emulate it's brevity in any future endeavors.



Randy_Mordoc said:


> I was having a very hard time envisioning  what I was supposed to envision. I think this piece needed a little more  concrete description instead of vague sentences.


I appreciate the critique.

Re-reading it after quite some time, I have found that some sentences are not to my liking, with them being redundant or needlessly repetitive(the two describing the opening of the door in the asylum are a good example).

If the vague sentences you refer to are the italic intercessions, they are both the thoughts of Edmus and the utterances of Haro. 

However, some of them will definitely be more sensical if I progress the story or add more of a fleshy narrative.



danielstj said:


> Hey Rookish!
> 
> I really enjoyed this. If this would have been an early chapter or a  preview of a book I would have definitely picked it up. I like your  style of writing. It's very direct and, for me at least, kept me very  interested.
> 
> If it's not too much to ask, though, I'm not sure I understood the  ending, which makes me feel as if I missed the boat. Could you maybe  explain it to me?



Ahoy danielstj, I am gladdened by your enjoyment of it.


When I reached the end, the sequence of the knight was added to instill in the reader the idea that Edmus is not the fictional creation of a madman, but rather Haro himself in another incarnation(By ways of magic or perhaps some sort of dimensional transcendence).

So by bereaving poor Sir Lewald of his weapon, I express the innate ability of Haro/Edmus to harness powers of transportation and time-tampering, as with the dodos. 
The ending must be improved to better convey this fact, the current ending was more of an impulsive addition than planned from the start.


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## Blue (May 24, 2016)

I really liked this. A good opening, I was hooked straight away. 
Perhaps a little clarity with the ending, but really, it wasn't so bad. Though I was confused, it still read well and I love your descriptions. Nice use of imagery. 
You managed to convey some clear emotion in a small amount of words, very well done.


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## Abubakar (May 25, 2016)

Your vocabulary puts mine to shame .Not that I don't know the words but I think you're better at using them to create simple ,direct constructions .

I especially liked the vague and intriguing atmosphere of the first part .The second part felt a bit too uncomfortable for me to flow with .Perhaps we need more information before you use that ?


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## Rookish (May 25, 2016)

Abubakar said:


> Your vocabulary puts mine to shame .Not that I don't know the words but I think you're better at using them to create simple ,direct constructions .
> 
> I especially liked the vague and intriguing atmosphere of the first part .The second part felt a bit too uncomfortable for me to flow with .Perhaps we need more information before you use that ?



And I must ashamedly admit that I make heavy use of the internet for finding words and verifying their exact meaning.
This great creation of humanity is detrimental to my capacities of memorization : o

You are right about the second part, together with @Blue's suggestion of clarity with the ending.
The magician's setting was the main idea, with the asylum added on to give meaning to the intercessions.

Whenever I get around to improving this tale, the last parts will be the main focus.

Thank you for the advice : )


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## Jay Greenstein (May 25, 2016)

You’re telling this story from a distance, as a fly on the wall. That makes it hard for a reader to form an emotional bridge to the protagonist. Things happen, but because we’re not privy to his decision-making process, why he decides to act, and what he hopes to accomplish, are unknown.

But a story must resonate, emotionally, within the reader, or they don’t care if the protagonist lives or dies. It appears, because you’re focused on poetic imagery, that you’re trying to impress the reader with language.

The entire first section could be replaced with:

Sustained laughter, followed by applause filtered through the dressing room door. The comedian had finished his act.

“You’re on Edmus,” a voice called through the door.

Think about our medium verses his. He appears on stage, and to his audience everything about his appearance is learned in an eye-blink, as is the detail of the stage. The audience can smell, see, and hear the ambiance of the scene in an instant. They know his apparent age, his size, and his presence. But for us to learn only a tiny bit of how he’s dressed we have to read thirty-six words. And after all that: what does his face look like? What mood does he appear to hold? How old does he appear? None of that is obvious so while we know what color shirt he wears we don’t know what it looks like, or anything meaningful about him

But of more importance. Why do I care what someone I know nothing about, even to his name, is wearing? Would the plot or the scene change were the shirt and pants blue? If not, why am I reading about it, instead of learning what’s happening?
Instead of telling the reader that the mirror reflects a man, using “he” or giving his name tells us, in passing, his gender. Let him settle the overcoat on his shoulders as he strides toward the stage and we know he’s wearing one, without wasting a sentence on the news.

In short, as James H. Schmitz advised, “Don’t inflict the reader with irrelevant background material—get on with the story.”

At the moment he’s not living the story, he’s part of your performance, supplying thoughts based on responding to what you say. How can that seem real?

My first piece of advice: throw away your thesaurus. It was written to let the user pick the perfect word, not find odd alternate meanings to impress the reader. Never lose sight of the fact that the reader is with you to be entertained, not play word games. By all means use vivid and evocative language to delight the reader. But sound does not slither, and no one would talk about cutting something in twain unless they were speaking Old English.

Next: Be mindful that your reader cannot hear your voice, or see your performance. So making yourself the central character is a mistake. As an outside observer your viewpoint is inherently dispassionate because your words reach the reader free of all emotion.

Yes, I see that you’re trying to present an omniscient viewpoint. But you’re not. Reporting specific thoughts without the internal context that generated them makes them no more than verbalized dialog bereft of context, from the reader’s viewpoint.  And without context the words may be pretty, but they’re meaningless.

A few specifics:





> He wore a crisp brown overcoat, with shirt and trousers that mimicked the blackness of his hair.


I've been wearing overcoats for many decades, but never indoors, so this raises questions you don't address. And, I have not a clue of what crisp means when applied to an overcoat, or why that matters here.





> _This is how they force me to appear._


Obviously, he's saying this because you handed him the script and there it was. It complements _your_ words, it's not his thought because he wouldn't explain, he would be asking why he has to look like that. 

You later make this whole thing something that went on in his mind, but as it's read the reader doesn't know that. You don't present it as him looking in the mirror and seeing how he's dressed, and reacting. _You're_ telling the reader that. So having him react to _your_ words, cannot seem real.





> Faint echoes of the waiting audience slithered into his room, echoes filled with anticipatory delight.


First, he hears the audience, not echos of what they're doing. Next, when have you _*ever*_ heard an echo slither? If you've seen the film, Spinal Tap (and if not you should), you'll know what I mean when I say you have the volume set to eleven.





> Excitement now openly flared over the faces of the audience, eagerly awaiting the show that was to come.


This is his dream. So obviously he isn't seeing this. And you're not in the story. So who's observing this, and why are _you_ telling the reader instead of letting him discover the audience and react to their enthusiasm? It is his story, after all.





> The voice echoed throughout the hall, it’s ominous connotation forcing  itself into the man’s mind, the man that stood behind the curtains.  Slowly he left their obscuring embrace, striding with a rigid posture  onto the stage as the corpulent announcer left it. Alone he stood now,  the man known as Edmus.


First. There was nothing threatening in the man's words, which is what ominous means. You're trying to generate excitement with language. Why not simply present an exciting story?

Next, we already know where our protagonist is. But here you tell us he's in the wings, again—twice. 

Next, You just told the reader that curtains are not transparent—something everyone knows—when you really mean, "He stepped from behind the curtain. And in addition, you said, he moved "slowly." Does speed matter to the story? Would anything be changed were he simply to step out? No. This is an artifact of the fact that you're trying to find unusual ways to say things, and overdoing it to the point where it's getting in the way. More to the point, you say he moves slowly, but then have him striding to stage center. You can't have it both ways.

And finally, isn't inherent that if he's beginning his act the announcer leaves the stage? Why describe visual details, like that, and mention that the announcer is fat? That doesn't meaningfully set the scene, develop character, or, move the plot.





> They strode briskly through the bare hallway, passing walls of pure  white and steel doors locked and barred from the outside. Victor held a  clipboard as the numbered rooms flashed by.


Okay, last one, and there is a good reason for my doing all this, which I'll get to in a moment.

Here, you, because you visualize the scene, know who they are and why they're there. You even know where we are in time and space. But the reader has no idea that we've left the theater, or why. The term "They" could mean any number more than one, so this is meaningless as far as setting the scene. And how can rooms flash by if they're walking? And who the hell is Victor, and how does he relate to the overview of the performance you began with?

You know. The people on the scene know. But the people you wrote this for have not a clue of what's going on, where they are, or whose skin they're wearing. They know nothing about the characters, down to what mood they're in. They don't know the significance of what happened in the theater, and because it was presented by a narrator, and the voice describing it, it was free of emotion. We know an animal was cut with a sword. We know guts fell to the floor. But because it was presented as a report, no matter how vivid the language, it was as entertaining as any report. He didn't care that it happened. The narrator didn't. And knowing that people in the audience reacted is _not_ the same as seeing it happen.

So why all this? Why pull everything apart? Because it's not enough for you to hear it didn't work. For you it does, because you "fill in the blanks." When you read, the words call up images, ideas, and story stored in your brain. So it lives. You know who he is and why he's where he is. You know it's not real, and place yourself into his frame of mind as you read. You're guided by your intent for the scene. So when you change and introduce Victor and his clipboard, you know who he is and this thoughts as he walks. 

But what about your reader? For them, as they read, the words call up images, ideas, and story stored in *your* brain. So for the reader, the words can only mean what they seem to suggest based on the reader's background and cultural assumptions. You're seeing the story from the inside-out. But the voice the reader hears as they read is telling it from the outside in, because you're focused on trying to write poetically to make up for the problems you see, but can't identify.

And in the end, the problem, _all of it_, boils down to one word: viewpoint. You're _telling_ the reader the story, so the viewpoint is yours, _not_ the character you're talking about. But the reader can't hear the emotion in your performance, nor can they see it. And the barrage of poetic language cannot make up for the dispassionate nature of 100% narration. So that's what you need to work on, getting the reader into the protagonist's viewpoint, so they can empathize, and mirror his situation in their mind as you do, as you read. There's where the joy of reading comes. It comes from being made to live the story, not just hear details about it. It comes from worrying if their new friend will be successful, not hearing the details of success or failure.

Master that, and your writing will sing. And to aid in that, try this article on viewpoint. It's not an easy concept to get, but worth chewing on till it makes sense. Used well, it gives you to power to make someone you will never meet weep, and laugh—and of more importance, care. Chew on it. Play with it. Look at a modern novel that made you feel as if you were living the story, and see how that author used it. And if it makes sense, you might want to dig more deeply into the tricks like that. If you do, Debra Dixon has a gentle introduction into such techniques in her book, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict, which you can download from any online bookseller, or as hard copy from her website.

I really wish there was a more gentle way of breaking such news, especially given all the work you've put into this. But the up side is that if you were meant to be a writer, you'll love the things you'll be learning. And it will lift you from the sturdy cart-horse we're given in our school days and mount you on a winged beast called Pegasus. And then, who knows where you'll fly to?

Hang in there, and _keep on writing._


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## bdcharles (May 26, 2016)

Ooh, interesting! A man in a modern-day psychiatric hospital dreaming he is a cursed Victorian stage-performer doomed - _doomed! _- to summon up eternal Lovecraftian horrors for the amusement of many. I'm in. 

I will say that the idea of putting new sentences on new lines doesn't quite work for me. Just normal paragraphs will do. And particularly for this style/genre, I always think you can get away with a few more words. As others have said, stretch it out a bit, go into his mind and surroundings a bit more. 

Couple of typos:
Edmus the Exalted, a sourcerous sorcerous conjurer

it’s ominous connotation = its
it's skull = its skull
it's hilt = its hilt
You get the picture. "It's" is always a contraction of "it is".


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