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A Tumble In Time (1163 Words) Fantasy, Survival,

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Old 07-17-2016, 08:52 AM
Yonathan1 (Offline)
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Default A Tumble In Time (1163 Words) Fantasy, Survival,

A Tumble In Time

I began spinning in a clockwise motion, along with the mimicking of a twirl. A ballerina covered in pale gold danced around in a stiff posture as the toybox shifted to the melody of the tinkering sound. Clanks of gyrating music penetrated the ears and stimulated the eyes of me. A bear. I moved the sound of the music, conjuring a bubble of imagination in my head of a ballerina and myself dancing in a twist of rotating moves for the both of us.

It was a sculptured, plated, ballerina figurine attached to a toy box above. Not a real ballerina of course. As I played along to the alluring child's play music that was the twirling of my feet. Being felt up by the touch of her gold hands and seeing her cadence once more reality creeped in and everything that I imagined was short lived like a drop of rain.

The village where I lived was in daze of this magnificent, wondrous thing that we all saw. The vibrant, musical box that gave us the hope that we could live out our dreams and hopes of a better future in Tumble Village. A ball was thrown behind me and I looked back speculating who did it. No one seemed to bother me from what I was looking at.

Which was nothing, I saw nothing and nothing came from behind me nonetheless. I thought I’d savour the enjoyment that I had left and spend some quality time here before were to head on home with the what if’s if I could be drowned and be the sound that the whole village becomes ghost-quiet about.

Here in the village of tumble homes tend to roll around with wheels shaped like discs in the rhythm to a ball and this was a construct of the name that we established called ‘Tumble’ but my house didn’t possess such a thing and accounting for all the balls being thrown here.

It was a odd village but this is precisely why we call it ‘the village of tumble’ toys lie around here some put them there mysteriously by unknown things from before the village came to be. I walked off from the centre of the village only to see my house and this was my house; a tall bungalow with stairs rising up to the passages of the next floor above my eyes can see.

It had glass walls and was slightly transparent, it wasn’t a marvelous house if you ever imagine the glass and external work done from being quite better than all the other villagers settlements. It had it’s problems too. As I came back home and into my bedroom, which I was a spur of relaxation and being tired from all the fun and odd stares from a toy box. I sat on the bed, the touch of it’s soft wool on my furry skin and noticed something from my pocket. I carefully surveyed the knits of my fur and reached from it a toy box.. how? The same instrument we heard from the outside centre of the honeycomb village.

Already sitting down I came staring deep within its interesting qualities about the thing for a few minutes first was the question; Who put this in my pocket? Or this shed of fur of mine I wouldn’t be aware of the thing or person intruding me who simply came over and tucked it over my shoulder (who I am kidding I don’t have shoulders.)

I decided to scan it’s kinks who knows if it could be warped to the way I desired or have it played to a different tune either way I had this strange purpose to find it’s worth somehow. I can shake it, I could break it. I could do whatever I pleased now that I had it in hands firstly. As I Billy Joyous got to the bottom of it. I was at the box’s service. I gave it a shake because silent stares don’t do anything at all. What would it do really? But would shaking do was cause a disturbance with the box itself whirlwinding me to the world of the toybox.

Oh boy something this way comes. Sarcastically I said despite the joyous bear that I am


I had no words, only the subtle amazement that happened to me, when I plummeted below the world before me like a bow. As if I were a king. A spooky haunted place in time, where nothing was as it seemed; toy soilders and talking swords with arms and a limp how lovely. I was a trumpet being blown out of it’s intrument. I said that I wanted to the sound.. wait now I am the sound… how cool is that! For some reason it felf loose, naked like I was floating on air. I felt I was nothing but a piece of lightweight that anyone can throw around. I was thrown upon sound upon sound.

Each trumpet liffed me from intrument to another. Recotaring me like a pinball. But meanwhile it seemed like I was lured from the certainty that I was missing something from all these occurances. I don’t know, it was a funny feeling. Though my head was a little disoriented from all the sound harpooning.

I hadn’t realized that I chose to be a observer than a avoider I could have put the toybox away from where it once came and put it back to where the villiagera had laid there eyes on it. Or throw it away and far from everyone’s hair. When the clock started ticking the worrieness came and I went from joy to fear in an instant. I wished this all never happened.. I can tell you why in a matter of seconds. There was a theory that you could repeat the past and all the while I didn’t even turn the other cheek about it. I think alternate worlds can grant you that ablity.

After all. This is a delusion right? I decide to repeat the past because I figured this ball of sound was getting to be a concerning thing; I was going to be this sound forever if I didn’t do something about it right? I transformed into a ballerina. Losing my music and into what I once was before I came here. A bear.

My worriness thickened as I became in the actual sense god but reminded that I was just a bear. A ballerina bear. The time to repeat the hour took wings. Fortuntalty I had a few hours to take control of the sitation before I’d instead be the dancer of a ballerina with the clanking of the music.

Looks like I have time.

In the hours leaving my hands as if it slipped away like ice. We broke and I became a ballerina but another toybox emerged from another child’s bedroom
It was held onto another child and the day was robbed.

Last edited by Yonathan1; 07-17-2016 at 03:11 PM..
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Old 07-18-2016, 06:23 AM
Coniglio (Offline)
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Very poetic and highly expositional, this tumbling narrative is filled to the brim with symbolism but never really finds an identifiabls narrator or voice. The five Ws are partially answered. We know the where and the what, but we don't know the why, who, or when and that might distract from the mythos at large

Grammatical mistakes are dashed throughout but aren't too distracting. The fourth and fifth paragraphs are the most bothersome with grammar.

All in all, it is a skeleton of a story and I think that was your intention: mysterious and vague with a bigger picture behind it.

I'd read more.
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Old 07-18-2016, 10:07 AM
Yonathan1 (Offline)
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Thanks for the feedback, it was meant to have a message behind it
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Old 07-27-2016, 03:16 AM
IanG (Offline)
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'a avoider' should be 'an avoider.'

'held onto another child' ought to read 'held onto by another child.'

'Reality creeped in' should be 'reality crept in.'

Bungalows don't usually have stairs, they are, at least in English, houses of one story only. That said, some are converted into structures with two stories.

I hope this helps.
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