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Somewhere along the way, I added Outskirts to the prompt, where the Outsiders and Outcasts reside. Here's to two-thousand stories, here's to a thousand more.
A massive thank you to PallidAlbumen who not only critted this beast, but also put up with my anxiety. I cannot express how grateful I am.
Goodbye, Zion.
very great prose, and story. you bring a certain life to characters that I look up to, and the stamina in which you have these stories is impressive in the way you keep everything consistent throughout the entirety. This is a relatable piece to me, which helps my affection grow for it, and I'm excited to see what others think on it. Amazing work.
"—I said, with a posed look."
characteristically great, subtle, bleary-eyed. i find a quiet sort of profundity in this, and if it meanders a little at times, well, so does life.
poet
It's a painful thing, to watch yourself crumble alongside everything you know. The day-to-day rut you grind yourself into, cause where else is there to go? Emotions in this piece im all to familiar with. Well done
"I have to take care of the pharmacy, as hard as that can be some days."
"Why not just sell it?"
The question rocked Lucas, roaring through his mind like wildfire. He'd never even considered it before. "I can't."
"Why not?"
Lucas shrugged. "It was a gift. The old couple who ran it before me both died and gave it over." You weren't supposed to get rid of gifts, that's not how a gift worked.
"Huh. Heck of a gift."
"I guess." Lucas had never given that much thought either.
"I mean, they gave it to you, seems like its yours to do with as you please. Besides, if they liked you enough to give you their old place, they'd probably only want what's best for you."
"Maybe." The concept was still running laps around Lucas' head, poking and prodding, screaming.
The teen slid the energy drink back to him and he quietly took it, blinking a few times before beginning to walk away, chewing on the dried, cracked skin of his lip. Before he could leave, though, the girl asked him a last question.
"Why do pharmacists wear those white coats?"
Lucas stopped for a moment. He'd never given it much thought, had only put one on because Kelly and June had worn them, because pharmacists in media wore them. It seemed like it was just what a pharmacist did. "I don't know," he answered, "I just kinda do."
"Weird."
I feel like this moment right here, combined with the visits to the power plant and steel mill, really seals the work. There's a conversation here, but the undercurrent is strong and tows you under even as the waves above continue their merry lapping, unaware of the forces below.
Why do you do as others did? Because you are told to? Not even that? You are despairing. The door is open. But you must remain inside. Why? Pepper left to sizzle a hole in the tongue.
-Styg
What is life if not the contrast between what has been and what will become?
I distinctly remember watching a documentary sort of video on a crumbling former coal town, whose populace fell down and down with each passing year, with each passing month, a town putrefying into nothing. And the people interviewed bore this same energy, a clear and palpable sadness, despair, a silent rage against the self, and ultimately a 'what can ya do' that is carried to the grave. El baile de los que sobran, those left behind by time, by space.
Greatly enjoyed Lucas as a character, as well as the setting here. Just pure unadulterated dread, in a way that despite feeling so commonplace, don't see a lot in this site. But yeah, incredible work here. Easy +1~
No vote. The pacing on this gets atrocious in the middle, too slow to make up enough ground for the good beginning and ending. Lucas is somewhat fun though.
nya? (runs headfirst into a wall and explodes)
find my work here: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/xexnoncores-author
Easily my favorite title out of all the works posted for the contest. This piece felt so alive in the worse possible way. Everything was painfully realistic, no shortcuts taken or fantastical language (other than the fascinating recurring moment where Lucas' thoughts gained some sort of form, which I loved). Yeah Lucas' life is monotonous and miserable, obviously this should be reflected in the prose - and it perfectly is.
Like Stygian, I really liked the conversation between the gas station employee, especially the final question about the coats. The happy phone man was also great, that final keep your loved ones close so beautifully, painfully crafted to naively cut deep. I think it's interesting that most of the characters are barely described, like Lucas can't even muster the energy to remember them as they are, just who they were to him. And the use of A Wrinkle In Time was inspiring. It creates a solid link reminding us that Lucas' world is very real, just like ours.
My only complaint is for the only string left untied. The homeless man never appears again after the narrative seems to set up his return. So I was left wanting for that, but I could see the reasons (thematically and narratively) why he not come back. But maybe some quick mention of him could've tied that off? Something about Lucas never seeing him again? Not sure. But that is ultimately a very small blemish in my eyes, it's an otherwise very tight work.
