When they’re ready
March 2023 (Final Round)
Genre: Open
Action: Shushing
Word: Blur
Time Constraint: 24 hours
Length: 250 words
Life was busy, death was simple, but it’s the hereafter I can’t take.
I arrived in a blur of shattering glass and crunching metal—a spike of agony and then… weightlessness. For days, I wandered familiar streets disoriented and untethered in ghastly shock, until I found the remains of my broken family and wished I hadn’t.
I desperately wanted to tear my eyes from the pudgy four-year-old impatiently asking for me while her unshaven, red-eyed father tied a messy ponytail instead of a braid and forgot Mommy’s special lullaby.
But there was no one to soothe him when he returned to our oversized bed with tears streaming into his stubble. Even as I lay with my ethereal arms around his trembling shoulders, gently shushing his heartbreaking cries, he couldn’t see me—the powerless, spectral witness wondering what crimes we’d committed for such a sentence.
Yet the moment passed, and our grief eased with the whisper of the hourglass. Their omnipresent shadow, I guided Nick’s hands with my translucent ones as he learned to braid, and I sang my lullaby alongside him as he tucked Amelia into bed.
The seasons changed, and now sweet giggles lace Mommy’s song as they hum together while Nick braids Amelia’s hair perfectly for her first day of school. She gets on the bus, laughing as she waves goodbye. Nick and I wave back, and when he finally smiles, relieved certainty enfolds me.
The hourglass falls silent, and I’m weightless once again—a shadow no more.
This one got an honorable mention in the final round! The best I’ve ever done so far! The feedback is below!
WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY
{2104} This was a sweet and poignant story. I particularly loved the middle paragraph in which you wrote, “Even as I lay with my ethereal arms around his trembling shoulders, gently shushing his heartbreaking cries, he couldn’t see me—the powerless, spectral witness wondering what crimes we’d committed for such a sentence.” It is a lovely piece of imagery. Well done.
{1788} The narrator’s point of view was handled skillfully, allowing the reader to see the limitations of her new form but also her close proximity to the loved ones she couldn’t touch. It was particularly effective when she wasn’t able to comfort Nick, her “ethereal arms around his trembling shoulders.” For a wife or mother, it’s an unbearable thought, but it was heartening to see how quickly Nick found the strength to tend to Amelia.
The change in Amelia and Nick’s attitudes was more than believable, and the author showed the passage of time very well throughout the text. Even learning how to braid hair can take many days, and the sight of her perfect braid and his smile were lovely final images.
{2206} A tender story of loss and love with a hopeful ending.
“I wandered familiar streets disoriented and untethered in ghastly shock, until I found the remains of my broken family and wished I hadn’t.” A powerful depiction of life after death; dead but not gone. Here but separate.
“…spectral witness wondering what crimes we’d committed for such a sentence.” The agony of these words, speckled with alliteration and read like poetry.
An exquisite ending of the healing power of time and help from the unseen world.
{1943} Oh my gosh, this was a heartbreaking, beautifully written story. Your opening was powerful – I loved the balanced sentences and vivid description as she arrived in the hereafter and eventually “found the remains of my broken family and wished I hadn’t.” This was fabulous writing – you had me hooked right from the start. The concept of her being physically with Nick, while also being unseen by him was heart wrenching – I had tears in my eyes at “Their omnipresent shadow, I guided Nick’s hands with my translucent ones as he learned to braid”. The idea of them having a shared grief – “our grief eased with the whisper of the hourglass” – was beautiful. This image of the hourglass was wonderfully evocative, especially as it fell silent to release her at the end. Wonderful!
{2274} The story depicts grief through a harsh lens with not only the daughter but the husband suffering. They are both lost without her and at first all she can do is join in ineffectually. Indeed, why such a sentence? But the story takes a nice turn when the mother can help “train” daddy to improve his mothering. The ending is bittersweet but closes the most pressing part of the grief cycle. Amelia and Nick will make it and mom is finally able to move on to where she belongs. It’s a complex arc with three fully developed characters for such a tight word count.
WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK
{2104} Other than the middle section which I referred to above, there is still more room for showing rather than telling in your story. By showing more, you allow your readers to delve more deeply into the heart of your protagonist’s emotions. If you are able to do so, you will take your already very good story and move it up to the next level.
{1788} The hourglass could still be a more potent symbol. If it’s an hourglass that only exists in her mind, the author might want to make it a more vivid property. How much sand is left when it’s first mentioned? Do the falling grains unnerve her? Is she ready when the hourglass falls silent? Even if it’s not real, try to make it a more emotionally resonant entity, something she and the reader can see changing over time. The author may even want to place it in the first half. It seemed like a missed opportunity not to make it a more integral part of the piece, especially since it’s in the story’s last sentence.
“When They’re Ready” is a moving and unique microfiction work. Once the author highlights one symbol further, it will be even more wonderful.
{2206} The opening line didn’t seem to quite fit the rest of the narrative. In one way, her death was simple, quick even with no effort on her part. But simple doesn’t quite capture the pain of it. Likewise, the first moments of the hereafter, described so powerfully by the writer, would have been very difficult to take, yet she is able to help her husband and daughter as well as witness their healing and moving on to new life, and she seems at peace moving on, too. I would recommend beginning with “I arrived in a blur…” and use the extra words to give the reader a peek of her new life.
{1943} I thought your story was excellent, and I found it very difficult to find anything major to suggest that you edit. Perhaps you could consider the transition to “But there was no one to soothe him” – I paused here to reread, wondering why there was “But” at the start of the paragraph. To me, it felt a little awkward that you moved on to consider “him”, as she’d been unable to tear her eyes from the child, not the husband. After I reread, I wondered if you meant that he’d soothed Amelia when tying her hair, whereas nobody was there to soothe him, but this connection felt tenuous. I was also curious about the transition “Yet the moment passed”, as again, the tone of this felt a little disconnected to the previous paragraph. Maybe editing these two transitions could create a smoother read, but honestly, I am nitpicking as your writing was outstanding. 🙂
{2274} There’s never a clear explanation about how the mother is finally able to act upon her family when she couldn’t in the beginning. In this world, is it just something that must be learned? Did her spirit become stronger? It’s challenging to attack all details within a short story but this detail is relevant to the ending and some fleshing out would help the reader feel the narrative arc is complete. To gain the word count, a little could be trimmed throughout by choosing what adjectives and phrases are less necessary.
You can find the rest of my NYC Midnight Challenge entries and feedback here.
Hayley Reese Chow 