SILVER WROTE A STORY PLZ. :D (CRITIQUE IT YAY)

Subject: SILVER WROTE A STORY PLZ. :D (CRITIQUE IT YAY) Wed Nov 05, 2008 6:05 am

Code 013

I knew I wasn’t going to be the one to solve the problem. I was most definitely not the most talented mathematician in the crowded classroom I found myself in this autumn evening, and I thus knew that I was not meant to solve it, so I accepted my fate gracefully and denied myself the vain attempt. As I sat peacefully awaiting the expected silence in disregard to the problem, I watched Mathew scribble away at his paper; like he was eagerly awaiting a reply to an urgent message.

While the typical nickname for someone named as such is Matt; due to the irony of his talent and his forename, we referred to him simply, a name formed with terrible creativity, as Math.

I had not known Math for an exceptionally long time, in fact, only the two years we had been in college together. While this was the first class I had ever encountered him in, I had known of his presence for a while by reason of the countless awards and recognitions he had gotten each semester. I felt a singe of jealousy within my heart each time he received one, as by nature I am the envious type, although no one would guess by my visible personality.

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind, as to not sink myself into any deeper pain.

The class was fairly large relative to a typical Stanford classroom, I noticed as I surveyed my surroundings searching subtly for the few people still taking a last desperate stab at the equation.

Silence engulfed the room as at last Math’s pencil stopped moving, and from my view in the seat towards the rear of the desk arrangement, I saw his hand trembling in bewilderment and disbelief.

I felt a sort of pity. He was my dormitory neighbor and had few friends; whom he was seldom seen with thus I had suspicions they were just to put up appearances, I assumed due to his unhealthy obsession with schoolwork.

“Have you all finished, then? Any luck?” our teacher’s low expectations could be seen in his eyes.

Grunts and groans answered him, as his conclusions were correct.

“Alright. I expected as much.” He obviously had properly concluded that a college class would not have the aptitude to solve such an intricate equation.

“This problem is shrouded in mystery… More so than any I have encountered in my lengthy career as a college professor.” He paced around the room briskly, toying with his glasses in a manner that made me finicky and anxious.

“It seems that all who studied it have…” the lengthy pause he created left time for a phlegm to form in my throat, attracting the attention of my neighbor with it’s sound; I saw Math’s back stiffen, as we all expected what his next words would be.

“…Passed unexpectedly.” he firmly held his glasses in place and then continued abruptly, “But we, as mathematical and scientific people who conclude based on logic and not solely on superstition, must assume this is only a crude coincidence.” His gaze drifted towards the large analog clock hanging limply from the wall in my direction.

“Well it looks like we are just about out of time anyways. You can talk amongst yourselves.” He wheeled around and returned to his desk, followed by Math.

Being the nosy person I am, I attempted to find an excuse to move the front of the room, the solution I found being pretending to sneeze into a tissue and proceeding to return it to a garbage disposal. I stood above the trash can, being a magnificent actor as I do say so myself, and listened.

“Is this the whole problem?” Math thrust his notes atop Professor Bull’s (I can only imagine the unfortunate nicknames he was cursed with as a child) tabletop, causing our educator’s documents to become scattered.

“Yes. The whole problem. 013. That’s it, the whole problem.”

“It’s just a number! Of what significance could the solution possibly be?!” his frustration was clear, as well as his stubborn composure preventing him from admitting defeat.

“I’m not asking you to solve it.”

Mathew looked at the floor, but I saw his face blush red. His fists were clenched rather tight, I would assume it was painful. But after a moment, he relaxed them and reestablished eye contact with Professor Bull.

“I see… The most difficult problem is the most simple.”

A sudden clangor awoke me from my eavesdropping, signaling my required departure. As I left the room, I attempted to leave slowly as to not miss the rest of the conversation, I heard Math’s next words:
“That is why I will solve it.”

I turned my head in order to add an image to the words, but the door was closing in slow motion, slowly, slowly sealing him into an abyss-like darkness.

I returned to my dormitory promptly, but I kept my eyes locked upon my window, awaiting Math’s return eagerly. If I hadn’t, I probably would have missed seeing him sprinting hurriedly back to his room. I quickly pressed my ear against the side of the room, trying to catch an earful of sound that would reveal his actions. I heard a shuffling of footsteps, but that was all, and that didn’t conclude much of anything at all. So I regressed to relaxing on my bed, not thinking about anything in particular, but subconsciously wondering about Math. I drifted into a light sleep, and dreamed.

A loud banging awoke me from my sleep, coming from the direction of my door. I woozily made my way to the door, saying as I went, “Alright, alright, I’m coming, hold your horses…” I twisted the knob, lacking enthusiasm, and yanked the door open, to see Math at my doorstep.

“Whaat… Math?”

“Benjamin! Benjamin! I’ve solved it!”

“…What? You have?”

“Yes!” he ran towards my desk, shoving my papers off as if they lacked importance relative to his. “I want you to see--” he froze.

“Math?” I walked over, as I had been locking the door as he had spoken. “Ma…”

I make it sound quick, because it was.

He fell to the floor, like a stuffed doll. I heard his jaw crack as he hit the floor headfirst, blood oozing from his mouth. His body lay in an unreal position, a disfigured position, joints facing in directions I would have never expected to be seen in any place but a horrid automobile accident.

My eyes flew open in disbelief, and I was wide awake, running towards his deceased body in concern and terror. I shook him, screaming, Math, Math, a thousand times. He didn’t stir. He was dead.

The first action that came to my mind was the solution. Had he written it down? My curiosity overtook my desire to help him, and I propelled my body to the desk, arms flailing for the piece of paper on which he may or may not have solved the (arguably) most puzzling mathematical problem of the century. There was the paper. Right there.

I let my eyes take it in, get a grip on what I was seeing. In the last moments of my life, I took in the solution to the problem. Written on Math’s paper, scribbled out sloppily, was:
die.

Awesome job overall, Silver.
The only thing I will say, however, is to watch the length of your sentences! They seem to drift on forever, and lack articulation. Hopefully that makes sense. xDDDD
I'll use this as an example.
"I was most definitely not the most talented mathematician in the crowded classroom I found myself in this autumn evening, and I thus knew that I was not meant to solve it, so I accepted my fate gracefully and denied myself the vain attempt. "
This seems as though you're throwing about ideas without proper formatting. For example, that, is not as effective as this:
"Looking around the crowded classroom, I realised that I was most definitely not the most talented mathematician. Not at all. Immediately, I understood that I was not supposed to solve this equation, and denied myself a final, vain attempt. Instead, I used my time by staring out of the window. I was suddenly thrust into the colourful wilderness that was an Autumn evening."
This is also effective as you can write a wonderful descriptive paragraph about what Ben is seeing. This adds a lot more words. Of course, that's /really/ rough. xDDD

Other than that, it's brilliant. Looking forward to reading the next installment!

I actually noticed that, Dan. xD
However, in the book I'm reading, Great Expectations, Charles Dickens uses a ton of run-on-like sentences. So I guess I thought it was alright; but apparently it doesn't sound good, so I'll fix that up in the next short story I write.
Thanks very much for the feedback.
c:

CHUCK DICKNZ

Arget wrote:: I actually noticed that, Dan. xD
However, in the book I'm reading, Great Expectations, Charles Dickens uses a ton of run-on-like sentences. So I guess I thought it was alright; but apparently it doesn't sound good, so I'll fix that up in the next short story I write.
Thanks very much for the feedback.
c:

xDDDD
Ah, yes. Charles Dickens. One of the best writers in the world - but not grammatically. xDDDD
When a story is as involved and meaningful as his, you don't particularly notice the sentences. But when you're just describing someone or whatnot, you need a few shorter sentences in the middle. ^^
No problems. :D

OKAY, YAY.
I WILL WORK ON THAT.
THANKS AGAIN DAN.
C:

TL;DR LOLOLOL

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