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"Twelve Nine Six Three" by glasswing

Category: Short Story

Tags: fiction

You can do an inline review of this work in the review tab.

Twelve. Three. Six. Nine. Numbers on the clock, bold on bold. The world could die but Time would go on.


She is called Lily. Four sweet letters. She takes out a razor from her pocket and carves them in her calf: L. I. L. Y. Thin, shaky strokes of white-pink flesh, bubbling with blood. She watches it as the wounds overfill with red that spills, spills, spills out.


Liquid lust and love and grief mars the painfully white rug. It spreads on the airy softness, the solid rain, and leaks through to the hardwood floor beneath. She places the razor down on the bed, next to her. Just in case she needs it again.


Twelve. Nine. Six. Three. They say Time can't run backwards but it does, all the time, never and forever.


She doesn't like her name. Lily is for a sweet little girl. Sun-blond hair that frames a pretty white face, with innocent blue eyes and shiny lips coated with strawberry lip gloss. She has plain brown hair and sickly pale flesh, dark eyes that have seen too much and lips torn by her gnawing teeth.


The name is now branded into her skin, but it didn't make her any more delicate like she thought it might. She only feels more nauseated, like a tsunami is waiting to strike her stomach. Later, maybe, she will let out the badness and pray for goodness to come in. It probably won't.


Twelve. Three. Six. Nine. Time may run forwards and Time may run backwards, but never does Time not start with Twelve. Twelve and Time are linked as heart and body are linked, and nothing can break the bonds, no matter how taut and stretched tight they are.


She was once told that she was beautiful. A hand traced the lines scarring her arms and caressed the smoother areas. The owner of the hand said she would be more beautiful if only pain did not pucker her skin. But she doesn't have the strength to get rid of the pain, and the little white pills that sit in a little white jar on her little white desk do not work anymore.


There is a tapping on the window but she turns her head. She is not interested in whoever has come to see her. She doesn't want the goods that are offered. Doesn't want to make the trade.


The taps stop when she doesn't respond. But she's not stupid. She knows they will be back again. Later. Always later.


Twelve. Nine. Six. Three. A clock may be destroyed but never Time. A song may halt, a world may cease, a child may cry, a man may kill, but Time will Never. Ever. End.


She sees that the blood won't stop. It flows on and on. A river of bloated misery. But she won't use a bandage. That's cheating. That's giving in, covering up the evidence that the night is dark and the sun is gone.


Sometimes she worries the blood won't clot, even though she knows it has to. She has heard of bleeding to death, but that won't happen to her. She has been called ugly and clinically depressed, fat and schizophrenic, weird and misdiagnosed. But Stupid has never been used for her. She will never cut an artery. There are far too many better ways to die for that.


Twelve. Three. Six. Nine. There are those that claim Time does not exist. That it's an illusion. A hallucination. A cop-out way to understand the universe. But Time is there if you know where to look.


Tap. She hears it. It's back again. She will not turn her head to look. The girl who is sometimes called Lily and sometimes called ugly but never stupid won't let her eyes turn curious. She will keep her gaze fixed on the carpet, where the blood is being soaked up and the flow of it not stemmed. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap.


If it gets louder, her parents may hear. They may come up to her room and take a peek and ask Lily, who is that tapping on your window? And she may look at them but not to them and tell them. Or she may stay silent and wait for them to leave. If she does that, they will watch her for a minute or two or five, then walk away until their footsteps are dead and they are gone to the world. Her world.


Twelve. Nine. Six. Three. Time is always patient. It waits for everyone and no one. It waits especially for a girl called Lily that has no name.


Tap! Louder. She thinks perhaps those are her parents' feet on the stairs, but it is probably her imagination. When she was young, that was what people told her. Lily, you have such a vivid imagination. You think of the silliest things! If they knew what she thinks now, they would not call it silly. They would be frightened and angry and hateful, because people don't like what they can't figure out.


Someone once said to her that she smelled like spices. Exotic spices and she was assured that it was a wonderful scent. That it suits her well. She raises her hand to her nose and sniffs, but only smells blood and pain.


Twelve. Three. Six. Nine. Time taps on her window and she can't turn away for long. Time is here for the girl called and not called Lily. For the girl enslaved and not enslaved by demons.


Her lover is here. He has waited such a long, long time.


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Category Name: My Thoughts

I did not enjoy this story. I am not even sure what problem the protagonist faced. This story was okay. The story would have been better if the author had introduced the problem differently and made it feel more pressing. I really enjoyed this story. The author did a good job pulling me into the story by introducing an immediate and important problem for the protagonist.

This section is for overall comments and general ideas. The score should reflect how much you enjoyed the story.

Category Name: Character Development

The characters were not dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable or unique. I don’t care about or understand the characters because they were poorly developed. The characters were somewhat dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable and unique. I partially understood the thoughts, feelings, and actions of the characters. I somewhat connected with and care about the characters. The characters were very dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable and unique. I thoroughly understood their thoughts, feelings and actions. I felt connected with and cared about the characters.

This is act of bringing a character to life on the page. It is a combination of the author’s description of the character and the character’s dialog, action, and thoughts. Though all characters should be believable, the protagonist and antagonist are usually the most developed characters.

Category Name: Plot

I finished reading the story so the plot must have unfolded, but I am not sure what the plot was. The characters did not achieve or grow by solving the problems they faced in this story. There were definite wrinkles in the way the plot unfolded leading to the final conflict. The plot was loosely tied to the achievement and growth of the characters. The way the protagonist overcame some of the problems flowed unnaturally with the story. I could see the plot unfolding through a series of escalating problems that lead to the final conflict. The plot helped me understand the achievements and growth of the characters. The way the protagonist overcame the problems flowed naturally with the st

In fiction a plot is all the events in a story, particularly rendered towards the achievement of some particular artistic or emotional effect. In other words it's what mostly happened in the story. The plot draws the reader into the character's lives and helps the reader understand the choices that the characters make.

Category Name: Dialog

The dialog seemed like cold words on paper. I had a hard time following it. I didn’t learn very much about the characters through the dialog. Through the dialog I could sometimes see the characters learn and grow while occasionally discovering new facets of their personalities. The dialog was generally consistent with the character. Through the dialog I could see the characters learn and grow while simultaneously discovering new facets of their personalities. The dialog was true to the character and it helped me understand the characters emotions.

Category Name: Setting

The setting created a haze in my mind that detracted from the story. I am lost in time and space because I don’t know when or where this story takes place. The setting was described adequately, but not well enough to bring it to life in my mind. The setting did not add to or detract from the story. I am pretty sure I know when and where the story takes place. The author engaged all of my senses while vividly describing the setting. The setting helped me better understand the setting and plot. I know when and where this story takes place.

The setting is where a story takes place. The choice of setting and its description helps the story come alive in the mind of the reader. Appropriate setting contributes to the plot and mood of the story.

Category Name: Mechanics

The story contained so many mechanical errors that it was hard to follow the plot or understand certain sentences or paragraphs. Occasional mechanical errors were distracting, but these errors did not inhibit me from being able to understand the plot or connect with characters in the story. I rarely if ever noticed mechanical errors. As far as I could tell, the writing was clear and correct.

Mechanics includes sentence structure, verb agreement, grammar, spelling, voice, punctuation and aspects of basic style.

Note: The purpose of ReviewFuse reviews is NOT to provide comprehensive copy editing, but rather to "ignite creativity." Reviewers should not feel obliged to point out every grammar or spelling error (though they certainly can if they wish), but should focus on this area only to the degree that errors make a story hard to follow or understand.

Inline comments are the most helpful and important aspects of your review.

Click on a paragraph or highlight text from the paragraph to provide inline comments. While detailed grammar correction is welcome, the purpose of inline commenting is to spark the author's creativity. This is best done by expressing feelings, questions, and concerns you have about the story while you are reading.

1. Twelve. Three. Six. Nine. Numbers on the clock, bold on bold. The world could die but Time would go on.

2.

3. She is called Lily. Four sweet letters. She takes out a razor from her pocket and carves them in her calf: L. I. L. Y. Thin, shaky strokes of white-pink flesh, bubbling with blood. She watches it as the wounds overfill with red that spills, spills, spills out.

4.

5. Liquid lust and love and grief mars the painfully white rug. It spreads on the airy softness, the solid rain, and leaks through to the hardwood floor beneath. She places the razor down on the bed, next to her. Just in case she needs it again.

6.

7. Twelve. Nine. Six. Three. They say Time can't run backwards but it does, all the time, never and forever.

8.

9. She doesn't like her name. Lily is for a sweet little girl. Sun-blond hair that frames a pretty white face, with innocent blue eyes and shiny lips coated with strawberry lip gloss. She has plain brown hair and sickly pale flesh, dark eyes that have seen too much and lips torn by her gnawing teeth.

10.

11. The name is now branded into her skin, but it didn't make her any more delicate like she thought it might. She only feels more nauseated, like a tsunami is waiting to strike her stomach. Later, maybe, she will let out the badness and pray for goodness to come in. It probably won't.

12.

13. Twelve. Three. Six. Nine. Time may run forwards and Time may run backwards, but never does Time not start with Twelve. Twelve and Time are linked as heart and body are linked, and nothing can break the bonds, no matter how taut and stretched tight they are.

14.

15. She was once told that she was beautiful. A hand traced the lines scarring her arms and caressed the smoother areas. The owner of the hand said she would be more beautiful if only pain did not pucker her skin. But she doesn't have the strength to get rid of the pain, and the little white pills that sit in a little white jar on her little white desk do not work anymore.

16.

17. There is a tapping on the window but she turns her head. She is not interested in whoever has come to see her. She doesn't want the goods that are offered. Doesn't want to make the trade.

18.

19. The taps stop when she doesn't respond. But she's not stupid. She knows they will be back again. Later. Always later.

20.

21. Twelve. Nine. Six. Three. A clock may be destroyed but never Time. A song may halt, a world may cease, a child may cry, a man may kill, but Time will Never. Ever. End.

22.

23. She sees that the blood won't stop. It flows on and on. A river of bloated misery. But she won't use a bandage. That's cheating. That's giving in, covering up the evidence that the night is dark and the sun is gone.

24.

25. Sometimes she worries the blood won't clot, even though she knows it has to. She has heard of bleeding to death, but that won't happen to her. She has been called ugly and clinically depressed, fat and schizophrenic, weird and misdiagnosed. But Stupid has never been used for her. She will never cut an artery. There are far too many better ways to die for that.

26.

27. Twelve. Three. Six. Nine. There are those that claim Time does not exist. That it's an illusion. A hallucination. A cop-out way to understand the universe. But Time is there if you know where to look.

28.

29. Tap. She hears it. It's back again. She will not turn her head to look. The girl who is sometimes called Lily and sometimes called ugly but never stupid won't let her eyes turn curious. She will keep her gaze fixed on the carpet, where the blood is being soaked up and the flow of it not stemmed. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap.

30.

31. If it gets louder, her parents may hear. They may come up to her room and take a peek and ask Lily, who is that tapping on your window? And she may look at them but not to them and tell them. Or she may stay silent and wait for them to leave. If she does that, they will watch her for a minute or two or five, then walk away until their footsteps are dead and they are gone to the world. Her world.

32.

33. Twelve. Nine. Six. Three. Time is always patient. It waits for everyone and no one. It waits especially for a girl called Lily that has no name.

34.

35. Tap! Louder. She thinks perhaps those are her parents' feet on the stairs, but it is probably her imagination. When she was young, that was what people told her. Lily, you have such a vivid imagination. You think of the silliest things! If they knew what she thinks now, they would not call it silly. They would be frightened and angry and hateful, because people don't like what they can't figure out.

36.

37. Someone once said to her that she smelled like spices. Exotic spices and she was assured that it was a wonderful scent. That it suits her well. She raises her hand to her nose and sniffs, but only smells blood and pain.

38.

39. Twelve. Three. Six. Nine. Time taps on her window and she can't turn away for long. Time is here for the girl called and not called Lily. For the girl enslaved and not enslaved by demons.

40.

41. Her lover is here. He has waited such a long, long time.

42.

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