Writing from the perspective of the future
Posted: Sat Oct 18, 2014 9:39 am
Alright, recently I've been experimenting with writing something similar to the game To the Moon - where basically, two people hop into the past to view another person's memories, and the writing alternates between the characters IN the memory and the characters VIEWING it - which actually sounds really hard to convert into written form without breaking immersion.
I made a little attempt at something similar (sample below) - where what I did was to switch between normal lines and italics as well as a pov switch - but I'd like some critique on whether or not it works, and what I can do to improve it (general writing tips would be great too!).
Thanks
I made a little attempt at something similar (sample below) - where what I did was to switch between normal lines and italics as well as a pov switch - but I'd like some critique on whether or not it works, and what I can do to improve it (general writing tips would be great too!).
Thanks
Sandwiched among the crowd was a completely unremarkable young man. Barely past his teens, he had completely unremarkable black hair, wore completely unremarkable dark clothes, and stood in completely unremarkable silence. He had a thumb in each trouser pocket, his right foot was tapping itself subconsciously to each second, and he had long given up trying to look over the rest of the crowd.
The weather was starting to get cold again. The young man pulled up his red scarf to cover his nose. Perhaps it was not worth it coming this far, after all, he thought. He did not like going outdoors when it was this cold, especially not to crowded places where men and women in snow-laden woollen coats kept bumping into him.
~~~
Within the crowd stood two children whose faces could not be seen. A girl was gripping my left hand tightly with her right, and neither of us spoke. In contrast with the rowdy public, I felt terribly alone.
I pointed to the black-haired young man.
“Is that me?” I asked.
She gave me a nod. I stared at the young man who was supposed to be me. He was average in every way – the kind of person who would never stand out in a crowd. Typical in every way, except for my cause of death.
And this was three hours before I died…
“Are these my memories?” I asked.
“Mostly yours, yes. But mixed with those of the others around you too, of course. I need you to see yourself from third-person, after all, so that it doesn’t hurt you too much. You’re too fragile right now,” she adds, “to actually experience those memories and feelings fully in your own body.”
“But I want to know what I felt.”
“Do you really?” she questioned.
I sighed. “I guess not. I won’t want to feel that ever again… that kind of fear.”
With that, I continued watching.
~~~
Just when he was about to turn back, a young child tugged at his coattails.
“Mister,” she said, “I want to see the princess. Can I?”
Her cheeks were rosy, and her parents were nowhere in sight. The young man was surprised by how daring this little child was. Did she give her parents parents the slip to edge closer to the front of the crowd? Certainly, her parents must be worried. He bent his knees until he was level with the child’s head, and gave her a sad smile. “I would love to see the Prince and Princess too, Miss, but Mister isn’t tall enough to see them.”
“Oh,” the child said, puffing up her chubby little cheeks.
The black-haired young man stood up, and put a hand to his head, considering his height. He was of average height, but the burly men in front of him blocked his view completely. He looked down at the girl again, who was glancing from side to side and absent-mindedly pushing her toes into the dirt.