Title: Homework
Author: Aiieke
Warnings: Some... hypothetical rape and gore? Come on, don't be wimps.
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
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The sound of soft scratching noises came from the living room of a modest three-bedroom house where a small boy lay on his stomach on the floor, kicking his feet in impatience. His right hand grasped a pencil that he used to write on a notepad, hand moving fluidly with a compacted scrawl.
What can I say about the most uninspiring piece I have ever taken the time to read? The author deserves some credit though-- the ability to write almost nothing for four-hundred or so pages on end is somewhat of a talent, if nothing else. I feel that The Forest is inappropriately named. The time spent in going through the pages of text feels equal to that of trudging through a swamp in the Makai marshlands, after which I am left with ruined clothes and no intellectual gain whatsoever. That is not the impression that a piece of literature should leave.
Only the minimum length requirement of this paper prevents me from stopping at the last sentence because The Forest is so awful in it's mediocrity that it doesn't even deserve the effort on my part to put down this many words...
"Shuiichi?"
Kurama paused in writing to find his mother standing the doorway.
"Yes?"
"You know Shuuichi," Shiori began, "we really should go out to get your hair cut today."
Kurama looked at her for a moment before he slowly turned his eyes back down to his paper, eyebrows cutely furrowed.
"No." came the soft reply.
"But it's getting kind of unruly now, dear--"
"No."
Shiori sighed and continued on her way into the den while Kurama returned to his report.
...of criticism. The characters keep getting away with such outrageous things that I feel the author was actually trying to reach a new level of sarcasm rather than advocate anything meaningful, which makes it all the more disappointing to know that everything was written with a straight face.
Our main character, "Mina-chan", as she is so affectionately referred to, is a naive princess with not a shred of common sense, a shameful and pathetic representation of the ideals of strength and independence for women. Do you know what fates befall foolish little heroines in my homeland? They are ravaged, and then eaten- always in that order. If she is lucky, the girl would die of initial fright before either of those things happen, a blessing. She would not have to face any gruesome beasts with rending claws wanting to strip the flesh from her bones, nor would she come to know the sensation of slowly drowning in one's own blood, and be spared of the horror of being consumed alive, still struggling for breath, all the while slowly realizing in the back of her fading consciousness that, there and now, there would soon be nothing--
Shiori returned to the doorway. "Shuuichi, please, at least let me trim the--"
"No, mother."
"But,"
"No. It isn't necessary."
Shiori started to insist but gave up. Kurama looked back at his notepad and proceeded to strike out the last six or so lines of his writing.
So in conclusion, I do not recommend this book which I would have never chosen out of free will in the first place. Incredible.
Shiori had expected that much. Any other parent would have thought the boy's refusal must have been part of some new trend, and that it was a passing rebellious phase in which all children went through. The problem was, Shuuichi was seven now and had been in this "phase" since he was born, but Shiori had no complaints. Shuuichi performed well at school, and the teachers spoke of how impressed they were of him whenever they met, saying how surprised they were with his work, often asking her where he picked up on language and speech that was advanced for his age. Shiori would answer that she honestly didn't know with a touch of pride for her Shuuichi, the bright student whom she'd never taught herself. Perhaps he wasn't the friendliest son in the world, but he worked diligently and received good grades- an indicator of things to come- and after all, isn't his success what really mattered?
It was all right, Shiori thought, as she slipped a pair of silver scissors into her apron pocket. She knew she had made her wishes clear to Shuuichi regarding his appearance... she had just hoped that this time, he would have come willingly and cooperated. Thinking fondly of her son on the living room rug, Shiori assured herself that she would not feel any guilt come nighttime; Shuuichi would understand.
The End.
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