-1 doesn't mean that this is bad, but I think this article fails as an entry to the contest.
My main issue, and this is something that can be identified from the first paragraph, is the language. I like denser stuff, and lines like "own unquenchable desperation" and "the soul-crushing pop of some egregious miscalculation" are really good, but this is used in every single line, to the point of making it harder to parse.
I can see where you took inspiration from HG Wells in terms of writing style, but my best guess as to what caused the problem I see is that you might've fixated on the use of heavy metaphor, which isn't bad per se, but it becomes sort of expected and cliche when you overuse it- ie "looms above our heads to this day as though Death himself’s personal raincloud," which sounds kind of silly, and loses the impact it would have otherwise once you make every line a wham line.
Voting on this is really hard. When I began reading, I actually jumped to upvote it because your writing style is really phenomenal. When it came to this comment, though, I downvoted it because I found it challenging to finish it because it was pretty difficult to parse. And then, of course, I changed my mind again and decided to novote, because I still did enjoy this, but I still don't think it was very good.
I also want to emphasize that you have a really nice writing style. Reminiscent of classic authors like HG Wells- specifically here:
This is from your entry:
The sudden blast of insight on the way back seared my feeble mind as I tried to shut my eyes. I couldn’t. I saw them, standing there, laughing, living. Memories, The Universe's silk. I tried to cry, I wanted to cry, to shed any amount of tears… but couldn’t. Tears would only serve to cloud my vision, to hinder my body’s natural reaction to the cosmic scenario: complete observation of the collage engulfing me in every degree. I was paralyzed, too busy to feel. Then, as quickly as it had started, I came to a screeching halt at the end of the line, my previous departure station now turned into my return destination. A vaguely familiar, serene feeling of infinity and instantaneous overcame me once more, but this time around it was nigh unbearable. I collapsed, only the feeling of my face slamming into metal persisted as my consciousness drifted elsewhere.
And here is a passage from HG Wells' "The Time Machine"
My sensations would be hard to describe. As the columns of hail grew thinner, I saw the white figure more distinctly. It was very large, for a silver birch-tree touched its shoulder. It was of white marble, in shape something like a winged sphinx, but the wings, instead of being carried vertically at the sides, were spread so that it seemed to hover. The pedestal, it appeared to me, was of bronze, and was thick with verdigris. It chanced that the face was towards me; the sightless eyes seemed to watch me; there was the faint shadow of a smile on the lips. It was greatly weather-worn, and that imparted an unpleasant suggestion of disease. I stood looking at it for a little space—half a minute, perhaps, or half an hour. It seemed to advance and to recede as the hail drove before it denser or thinner. At last I tore my eyes from it for a moment, and saw that the hail curtain had worn threadbare, and that the sky was lightening with the promise of the sun.
At the end of the day, I might end up upvoting this since I'm usually harsher with the first few entries I read, lol. Nonetheless, please pay attention to what I've pointed out in the future.
(account deleted) 14 Sep 2022 18:43