Hi; I'm the friend. She's right, I do love the story.
Partly this is because of the way you tell it. The characterization is good: the Heero and Duo of this story are similar to those in canon, but developed enough that I can indeed imagine that these are the men they've become over time. The plot is, of course, superb, but you'd have to be an idiot not to drool over the idea of combining _Silent Hill_ and _Event Horizon_; also, you do so in a way so as to do the former justice and puts the latter to shame.
More importantly, though, your style is _lovely._ Like many, I go in to horror in a sweet, hazy bloodlust--and you certainly satisfy my desire for the creepsome--but I soon found myself more than ready to set my jones for cold tingly feelings aside in favor of absorbing a beautiful story that is beautifully as well as bloodily told. Your narration, the diction and the rhythm, is not just alluring, but lyrical, just the opposite of what one expects in a horror story--but very much what one expects in a story that demands of readers compassion, deep empathy, and admiration for its characters.
Even in the most disgusting scenes, scenes featuring the word _splat_, I found myself moved by pity and sadness for the suffering and loneliness Heero and Duo had, in their respective pasts, endured and been helpless to stop--and what their victims had endured, as well. I found myself agreeing with the _Persephone_'s assessment, with their subconsciouses' assessment: there is no atonement that can be made, there is no atonement Heero or Duo can offer that can address the magnitude of the things they have done. Your graceful writing is the defining factor in accomplishing this effect.
The tone suits the themes, too, far better than a grave or high tone and far better than a harsh, barking one. And the questions that form the themes are one of my favorite things about _Lost Days_: they are the questions about humanity--about my own humanity--that gnaw on my own mind more than any others. How _do_ we deal with the past? How do we go on living, having no opportunity to reverse or atone for the horrible things we have done, the damage and hurt we've caused innocent things and people? Where does one draw the line between independence and a relationship, or privacy and intimacy? What is it that scares a person the most, or is most likely to make him give up--give up his life, his self?
The answers _Lost Days_ suggests are not easy to swallow. Love for each other saves Heero and Duo, but they and we the readers are both left with the uncomfortable and unavoidable awareness that neither of these men particularly wants to live, nor does either think that anything is or will ever be "all right," that there is justice or mercy or forgiveness to be had. Instead, both of them know that they have built their lives on the bodies of the people they've killed--and both are willing to kill again, to _regret_ again, because regret is not the worst thing, just as forgiveness is not the best.
And that line itself is something else. "There were more important things that forgiveness." In a predominantly Christian culture? that is fucking outre, right there.
In the U.S. there is a strong association of forgiveness with love because of Christianity--God loves, so Christ forgives. Christ dies so we can live. You take those verbs and rearrange them so that they are in different relationship with each other, a net that is inescapably true and yet also inescapably at odds with the party line. AND THEN you go and as much as say, "This is pretty fucked up, and we're all aware of it, but still . . . failing the ideal, maybe this is better than nothing."
And maybe you're right.
It's rare to find a horror story that has a point, or a happy ending that does not seem trite or artificial. Likewise unusual is a story of any genre that has characters who are flawed without being horrible people and who are dependent on one another without having a tremendously unhealthy relationship, or a story that is moving without being manipulative or histrionic. You've created a rare jewel in _Lost Days,_ and it now stands out in my mind as one of the best ghost stories I have ever read. THANK YOU for writing and posting it.
First off: Thank you!!! Your comments just made my day :-D I am so glad you enjoyed it.
This story is actually pretty similar to Event Horizon isn't it T_T Haha. I'd say the 2nd biggest influence on writing this after Silent Hill was probably The Thing, which also makes use of claustrophia and the idea of being trapped in a remote place, with no escape. I would guess that the fate of the Persephone's original crew probably resembled something like Event Horizon o_O
It's funny, but I guess I do have issues with the idea of forgiveness. Asking for forgiveness from people is inherently a selfish act, because who does it benefit? You're asking someone you've wronged to basically get over their problems with what you did to them because you want to feel better. Sometimes, you need to just accept that you did something wrong, that it had consequences, and that you don't get to have the catharsis of being forgiven.
I'm glad the ending didn't come across as trite. Those dudes are going to need a lot of time to work out the implications of what they went through, but at least they are making the choice to try.
THANK YOU so much for your comments :-D I am floored!
Partly this is because of the way you tell it. The characterization is good: the Heero and Duo of this story are similar to those in canon, but developed enough that I can indeed imagine that these are the men they've become over time. The plot is, of course, superb, but you'd have to be an idiot not to drool over the idea of combining _Silent Hill_ and _Event Horizon_; also, you do so in a way so as to do the former justice and puts the latter to shame.
More importantly, though, your style is _lovely._ Like many, I go in to horror in a sweet, hazy bloodlust--and you certainly satisfy my desire for the creepsome--but I soon found myself more than ready to set my jones for cold tingly feelings aside in favor of absorbing a beautiful story that is beautifully as well as bloodily told. Your narration, the diction and the rhythm, is not just alluring, but lyrical, just the opposite of what one expects in a horror story--but very much what one expects in a story that demands of readers compassion, deep empathy, and admiration for its characters.
Even in the most disgusting scenes, scenes featuring the word _splat_, I found myself moved by pity and sadness for the suffering and loneliness Heero and Duo had, in their respective pasts, endured and been helpless to stop--and what their victims had endured, as well. I found myself agreeing with the _Persephone_'s assessment, with their subconsciouses' assessment: there is no atonement that can be made, there is no atonement Heero or Duo can offer that can address the magnitude of the things they have done. Your graceful writing is the defining factor in accomplishing this effect.
The tone suits the themes, too, far better than a grave or high tone and far better than a harsh, barking one. And the questions that form the themes are one of my favorite things about _Lost Days_: they are the questions about humanity--about my own humanity--that gnaw on my own mind more than any others. How _do_ we deal with the past? How do we go on living, having no opportunity to reverse or atone for the horrible things we have done, the damage and hurt we've caused innocent things and people? Where does one draw the line between independence and a relationship, or privacy and intimacy? What is it that scares a person the most, or is most likely to make him give up--give up his life, his self?
The answers _Lost Days_ suggests are not easy to swallow. Love for each other saves Heero and Duo, but they and we the readers are both left with the uncomfortable and unavoidable awareness that neither of these men particularly wants to live, nor does either think that anything is or will ever be "all right," that there is justice or mercy or forgiveness to be had. Instead, both of them know that they have built their lives on the bodies of the people they've killed--and both are willing to kill again, to _regret_ again, because regret is not the worst thing, just as forgiveness is not the best.
And that line itself is something else. "There were more important things that forgiveness." In a predominantly Christian culture? that is fucking outre, right there.
In the U.S. there is a strong association of forgiveness with love because of Christianity--God loves, so Christ forgives. Christ dies so we can live. You take those verbs and rearrange them so that they are in different relationship with each other, a net that is inescapably true and yet also inescapably at odds with the party line. AND THEN you go and as much as say, "This is pretty fucked up, and we're all aware of it, but still . . . failing the ideal, maybe this is better than nothing."
And maybe you're right.
It's rare to find a horror story that has a point, or a happy ending that does not seem trite or artificial. Likewise unusual is a story of any genre that has characters who are flawed without being horrible people and who are dependent on one another without having a tremendously unhealthy relationship, or a story that is moving without being manipulative or histrionic. You've created a rare jewel in _Lost Days,_ and it now stands out in my mind as one of the best ghost stories I have ever read. THANK YOU for writing and posting it.
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This story is actually pretty similar to Event Horizon isn't it T_T Haha. I'd say the 2nd biggest influence on writing this after Silent Hill was probably The Thing, which also makes use of claustrophia and the idea of being trapped in a remote place, with no escape. I would guess that the fate of the Persephone's original crew probably resembled something like Event Horizon o_O
It's funny, but I guess I do have issues with the idea of forgiveness. Asking for forgiveness from people is inherently a selfish act, because who does it benefit? You're asking someone you've wronged to basically get over their problems with what you did to them because you want to feel better. Sometimes, you need to just accept that you did something wrong, that it had consequences, and that you don't get to have the catharsis of being forgiven.
I'm glad the ending didn't come across as trite. Those dudes are going to need a lot of time to work out the implications of what they went through, but at least they are making the choice to try.
THANK YOU so much for your comments :-D I am floored!
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