[John Riley]

Firing Squad

We have reached the dreaded moment. The moment when the always hungry lion with dirty teeth is smiling at us from inside his cage. This is the moment we hoped would never come when we were making our decision this morning, standing on the leeward side of the series of dunes that divide our section of the coastline from the tugging waves. Standing in a circle, after minimal discussion, we decided to not accept any of the pirate’s bounty that was offered to us by our guide. It seemed to be a logical, ethical decision. The bounty was stolen, after all. We made our decision without asking if we should be making an ethical decision. We made the decision without knowing if it was our ethics that was being tested. We still have no answer to that unasked question as we stand here before the lion's cage. We now know that what we thought was an ethical decision was in reality our refusal to accept responsibility. The right choice may have been to take the bounty and give it to who needs it most. It may have mattered less where the bounty had come from than where it could go. There is more than one way to make an error. Now, thinking and deciding is no longer in our hands. It is the guide who is facing a decision. He can turn us away from the sharp-toothed lion and lead us back to the wind-swept coast, or he can open the cage and wave us inside. I also know that all of us gathered here in a line before the cage door do not know what question the guide is now facing. That our fate may have been decided with a yes or no two hours ago and the guide is considering something entirely different. Is he thinking of a new group to assemble? Did our failure convince him we are not worth more investment? That it is time to cut his losses? I slowed my breath and let my eyes wander from our guide to the lion and on to the pale faces of my comrades and then, at this moment, perhaps driven by the same force that allowed my eyes to move, or perhaps it was the force of our helplessness that suddenly made me see the final question our training was driving us toward. It was so clear, so obvious, and I knew I must hurry and shout it out before the guide opened the gate. But when I opened my mouth to shout I had no voice. I strained and strained and not a single sound came out. I sank to the ground. Is this our lesson’s final betrayal? Was my sudden realization wrong and we were to learn that no decision mattered? Does my silence mean I have decided on self-destruction? Again! More hellish questions in the afternoon light! and as I sit, mute but not deaf, I feel my eyes widen like the eyes of a prisoner pushed against a wall, told to stand straight and wait for the captain's first call.

[John Riley]

Does it suck?

[R. Nemo Hill]

On the contrary.
At the moment, it has wrenched me past commentary.

Nemo

[Matt Q]

Hi John.

It doesn't suck. It doesn't even blow.

I think it's excellent. There's a sense of ethical failure and its consequences without it being spelt out what too precisely what that failure is, whether it is fair, and so on. I like that it doesn't fill us in on all the details, doesn't try to explain too much, which somehow makes this more intense. There's enough mystery as to what's going on, and the question of what the N realises but is unable to say, to keep me rereading and pondering. I like that the guide starts can be a literal guide (a local knows the area) or a guide in the sense of a teacher or a spiritual/ethical guide, which is what he seems more like at the close. There's something about this that reminds of some Lawrence Fixel's prose poems and parables, though it's also very much yours.

OK, some nits/comments

"our ethics that was being tested", I'd say it's "were". Singular for the branch of philosophy, plural when we're talking about a moral code.

The right choice may have been to take the bounty and give it to who needs it most. It may have mattered less where the bounty had come from than where it could go. There is more than one way to make an error.

I wonder if the first sentence is overly-specific, and the second seems to imply the first anyway but leaves things more open. You could cut the first sentence, maybe.

It is the guide who is facing a decision. He can turn us away from the sharp-toothed lion and lead us back to the wind-swept coast, or he can open the cage and wave us inside. I also know that all of us gathered here in a line before the cage door do not know what question the guide is now facing.

We're told he is facing a decision. Then we're told they don't know what question he's facing. Which maybe reads a little contradictory. In one respect, they do know that one question is: should I kill them or take them away? That said, I get that a decision between X and Y is not necessarily the same as the considerations that will inform that decision -- the questions asked whose answers will leads to a decision being made on the outcome -- not a big deal, or maybe no deal at all, but I wonder if there's a wording that better draws out this distinction? Then:

I also know ... [t]hat our fate may have been decided with a yes or no two hours ago and the guide is considering something entirely different.

Again, this seems a little contradictory: The guide is facing a decision on whether to kill or rescue us, the N tells us, but the guide may not be facing a on whether to kill or rescue us.

I believe I get what you're after in both of the above cases, so maybe I'm just being pedantic, but I wonder if the wording of this and/or the above-quoted section might benefit from a tweak to more precisely indicate the distinctions you're making.

I slowed my breath and let my eyes wander from our guide to the lion

Should this be "I slow my breath and let my eyes ..."? In this section we're back in the present tense.

and then, at this moment, perhaps driven by the same force that allowed my eyes to move, or perhaps it was the force of our helplessness that suddenly made me see the final question our training was driving us toward.

This seems incomplete. A preparatory clause than needs something to follow. Ah, or maybe it's just missing a comma some switches to the present tense. Anyway, maybe this:

"then, at this moment, perhaps driven by the same force that allowed my eyes to move, or perhaps by the force of our helplessness, I suddenly see the final question our training was driving us toward." (or, "... I am suddenly made to see ...").

light! and as I sit

Maybe a capital 'A' for the "and"? Though I could see a case for keeping as it is.

best,

Matt

[John Riley]

Thanks Memo and Matt for responding.
Matt, thanks for the great detailed suggestions. I’ll look them over thoroughly soon. I’m sinking a little now.

[Simon Hunt]

An eerie and evocative sketch of a moment. I kinda want to know more about the decision and the bounty and the guide, but I think the mystery and space for interpretation are probably the key to the parable-like effect here. I think "slowed" is out of tense with the rest. There's a split infinitive that would fix easily if you wanted to fix it. (Disclaimers: haven't read other responses; am pretty limited in experience of writing and critiquing fuction, though have read a ton). Cheers, --Simon