Fish Tank Story Comments - The Prodigal Bride

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From: Mat Twassel
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: 02 Sep 2002 16:21:13 GMT

Where is Julie? Maybe I missed it.

I think you should let us know how long Sandi has been gone much earlier in the narration. (But again, maybe I'm missing something.)

Several things struck me as a little strange: That Sandi would be doing dishes and singing. That he wouldn't be more interested in where she had been. (She volunteers everything.) That she wasn't more interested in where Julie was and in how he had been.

I wonder if this story would be more effective with less sex. If you could hint at more things, have her tell less, have him find out more.

I like the tattoos, but I'm not sure they're "used" enough.

Enjoyed the story. Had no problems reading it at all. The writing seemed fine to me.

- Mat Twassel

Mat's Erotic Calendar at http://calendar.atEros.com

From: Souvie
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: Mon, 02 Sep 2002 23:30:59 GMT

On 02 Sep 2002 16:21:13 GMT, [email protected] (mat twassel) wrote:

Where is Julie? Maybe I missed it.

She was spending the night at a friend's house.

- Souvie

From: dennyw
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: Mon, 02 Sep 2002 13:17:49 -0700

On Mon, 2 Sep 2002 09:12:13 -0400, "Desdmona" <[email protected]> held forth, saying:

The author does not claim English as a first language, and as such, is looking for specifics where a reader might be alerted to this. In the author's words:

"Would appreciate technical/stylistic comments pointing out possible systemic issues to help clean up the writing style. More negative than positive is welcome, and prescriptive/specific comments are especially appreciated. Thanks in advance for your time."

I like the spare style and saw nothing that said 'ESL' to me. Abe's acceptance and passivity seem natural enough - that took some skill. He seems to be not quite all there - seems to still be in shock from Sandi's disappearance. There's a surreal quality overlaying the whole story, and that seems just right.

-denny- (curmudgeon)

"There are two tragedies in life.
One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it." - G.B. Shaw

From: Souvie
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: Tue, 03 Sep 2002 11:52:39 GMT

On Mon, 2 Sep 2002 09:12:13 -0400, "Desdmona" <[email protected]> wrote:

********************************************** The Prodigal Bride (mc MF) By Arclight
[email protected]

FishTank guidelines apply:

1) 2 positive comments

Positive: Call me silly, but I like how the shift in time/narration/etc. is preceeded by a number. Helps to clarify in my mind the breaks and also just seemed to work with the overall tone of the story.

Positive: I've not read many mind control stories, but being vague about the specific methods used in this case, well ....worked. If we were given any more details, I think my attention would have wandered.

2) 2 suggestions for improvement

Improvement: This is just me, but if my spouse had reappeared after just walking out 2 years earlier, I would have been shocked, then relieved (to have them back), then mad as hell. Abe seems a little too emotionless at times.

- Souvie

From: Bradley Stoke
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: 3 Sep 2002 10:40:56 -0700

Arclight

I certainly wouldn't have guessed from reading this that English wasn't your first language. It was an accomplished and fluid piece of work, exploring an area that haunts many of us. Namely, are the sexual fantasies we have more important to us than our real lives? And what would happen if we could surrender to them? In this case, the fantasy is of a life of total submission � one that is remarkably common to very many people judging by the stories in ASSTR.

I enjoyed the perspective of this story. It was novel and interesting. And it nicely connected with the familiar fairy tale of the (usually fantastical) being allowed to live a normal day for just one day. For me, it worked because it was seen from the bemused and not necessarily sympathetic eyes of Abe, who loves Sandi, even though he doesn't understand her condition or why she should find it sexually exciting.

As we've been instructed not to give too much praise (although I can think of very many other praiseworthy features of the story), the other thing I liked about the story was the wealth of small and intimate details. They gave a life to the relationship between Abe and Sandi that made you want to find out more. Some were throwaway (and possibly better for that), like that Sandi was an MBA and that Abe was a guy who worked in a corner bookshop. I liked the fact that Abe grabbed an umbrella to fight off the intruder (so much better than those conveniently close-at-hand pokers or carving knives). I liked the fact that the honeymoon was in Halifax, Nova Scotia, - a beautiful place, I'm sure, that I'd love to visit one day.

However, you want some negative comments. Perhaps not so much "negative" I hope as helpful. It is actually quite difficult to come up with much that's negative to say (and I'm not sure what you mean by "systemic"). I guess the last section when Sandi disappeared was a little abrupt. But it's difficult to see how in a short story we can preserve its shock value whilst at the same time giving it more depth. Perhaps if we could have more of an insight as to why Sandi feels obliged to drug her husband and why she feels she needs to speak aloud to a mistress who isn't corporeally there. However, I suspect the last few paragraphs were a struggle for you to write and I don't think you did a bad job at all in tying up the story's loose ends.

Another criticism, but again rather mild, is that I wasn't sure why Abe should want Sandi to leave at the beginning of the story. Perhaps if he'd had some hint that she'd been living a submissive's sexual fantasy for two years it would have been understandable, but Abe only finds out about this after Sandi reappears. So, there's a certain degree of implausibility about his response. But then, on the other hand, the story would have been rather less dramatic and less engaging if his response was automatically positive and lovey-dovey.

Overall the story worked very well. It worked as a seven-part narrative. It worked as a sex story. It was moderately convincing as the account of the realisation of a certain species of sexual fantasy. And there really was no problem with the language. There are plenty of native English speakers who make substantially more syntax and spelling errors than you do (and I didn't really spot any). So, well done. A good and refreshing take on the sub-dom sub-genre.

Bradley Stoke

http://www.asstr.org/~Bradley_Stoke

From: dennyw
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: Tue, 03 Sep 2002 13:40:57 -0700

On 3 Sep 2002 10:40:56 -0700, [email protected] (Bradley Stoke) held forth, saying:

Another criticism, but again rather mild, is that I wasn't sure why Abe should want Sandi to leave at the beginning of the story. Perhaps if he'd had some hint that she'd been living a submissive's sexual fantasy for two years it would have been understandable, but Abe only finds out about this after Sandi reappears. So, there's a certain degree of implausibility about his response.

The feeling I got about this: Abe thought Sandi just walked out one day, and he was feeling abandoned - as who would not? When she pled with him to not call the cops because "they'll find me" he softened and (while still in the semi-daze he's in throughout) chose to at least give her the chance to talk.

-denny- (curmudgeon)

"There are two tragedies in life.
One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it." - G.B. Shaw

From: trilby else
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: 4 Sep 2002 00:02:10 -0700

[dipping paw into tank and trying not to cause ripples]

[email protected] (Bradley Stoke) wrote in message news:<[email protected]> ...

It was an accomplished and fluid piece of work, exploring an area that haunts many of us. Namely, are the sexual fantasies we have more important to us than our real lives? And what would happen if we could surrender to them? In this case, the fantasy is of a life of total submission � one that is remarkably common to very many people judging by the stories in ASSTR.

Like many erotic mind control stories, this one is about a *non*consensual situation in which the victim has had their will forcibly reshaped (by means not specified but not central to the story). Their actions afterward may seem voluntary, but that is a result of their volition itself being warped.

To the extent they retain any willpower or identity, this kind of predicament is usually less a fantasy than a nightmare for such a victim. When they act, especially when they have sex, they're not necessarily indulging their own kinks, but carrying out programming that's been imposed by their tormentors. Even loving it on one level, they hate it on another.

Sandi's behavior and Abe's responses may seem more logical seen through that lens.

Hoping this is helpful.

trilby else [pulling paw back out of tank but took no fish, honest, not a one]

From: celia batau
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: Tue, 3 Sep 2002 22:16:58 -0700

hi Desdmona and Arclight!

"Desdmona" <[email protected]> wrote in message news:[email protected] ...

1) 2 positive comments
2) 2 suggestions for improvement
3) Try not to repeat!

pozzie one: the beginning was very strong. the first half of the story had a nice flow. :)

pozzie two: the man's thoughts and reactions were good. there wasn't really anything (except for the mention below) that stands out. :)

neggie one: the tone was so good in the story. then the syringe came, and the whole thing took on a rushed pressure. the mood and the tone changed, like you were pushing to have this twist fit in before the story ran out, if that makes sense?

neggie two: we don't understand why after two years, Sandy is wearing the same clothes. we guess the woman kept them. but why? it didn't make sense to us.

-cb

The Prodigal Bride (mc MF)
By Arclight
[email protected]

From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: Wed, 04 Sep 2002 12:23:37 -0600

On Mon, 2 Sep 2002 09:12:13 -0400, "Desdmona" <[email protected]> wrote:

A repeatish thing, but the entire story seems to hold together for me because it is surreal. I look at what happens, and can't quite grasp it as a real situation. That Abe was upset and wanted Sandi gone, that was simply anger and could happen. That he didn't seem to feel obvious outrage or fear over the danger which threatened Sandi, that was far less likely. It was like he was moving in a dream himself, not willing to believe it was entirely real either. The ending emphasizes this feeling. The entire story could be viewed as the dreamlike memories that Abe has of this one lost day, after being drugged.

The story is full of mysteries. So many questions about the strange things which happened. As others point out, a modern fairy tale nightmare horror sort of situation, not exactly like a lot of MC stories. We don't really see the mechanisms of the MC, nor direct effects. In fact, one big mystery is whether the "enslavement" was truly non-consensual, or if Sandi is lying about the whole deal. The ending makes it unclear - she leaves, after being allowed such a visit, and yet we have no proof of any of her situation.

OK, there are the tattoos. But maybe they were from some other situation, maybe she is free now and doesn't want to come back. Why did she wear the very same clothes?

It doesn't matter so much what the answers are. Not unless there is some followup to the tale.

Taking Sandi's story as truth (assuming she hasn't been lied to all along), it presents an interesting look at the lifestyle of a drugged sex slave.

The sex kind of illustrates that too. Abe went along with it all, it seems.

But as a point of improvement, why didn't he panic when his wife acted so very strangely? Lust doesn't seem a sufficient explanation, and most people will believe that outside help is possible. It is only in the convention of the conspiracy/horror genres that acting against the evil enemy is doomed to fail. For Sandi to believe this is one thing. For Abe to buy into it without some greater proof than Sandi's body art and her strange behavior is another. Surely, the police or at least a doctor would be able to do something?

The ending proves that isn't true, which is just fine given the theme. But maybe Abe should make a bit more effort to save the situation, rather than simply giving into the sex.

1.

The only thing Abe could find was an umbrella.

He felt more than a little silly as he adjusted his grip on its handle. It was Julie's: a pink, plastic assembly from his daughter's Powerpuff Girl collection. And if he couldn't beat the burglar with it, he'd at least get the guy laughing to death.

Broad daylight, for chrissakes. Some guy was sifting through his kitchen, and he'd gotten home just in time. He took another breath, tensed his hands around the umbrella, and crept to the kitchen.

It was a woman. In faded jeans and a familiar rose cardigan, with a small purse slung over her shoulder. Fixing the dishes and singing to herself. An old song by Sarah McLachlan.

Her voice, her favorite song.

Sandi?

She turned. The saucer she was holding crashed to the floor, and her voice stopped in mid-song. Her face hadn't changed at all: the brown eyes and high cheekbones, the small mole on her left cheek, the dark hair she pushed behind her ears whenever she giggled.

She stared back at him, and cleared her throat.

"Abe?"

Now what? He'd dreamt about her coming back. This was the part where he'd step forward and hug her, and kiss her, and everything would be all right -

He swallowed. "Get out," he said. He hefted his improvised weapon, trying to keep it steady in his sweaty hands. "You left us, now get out."

She stepped closer. "Abe. That's ... an umbrella."

"I know it's an umbrella." He felt the anger rise. Good; anger was good. "Now go away. You left us, you're trespassing. Get out of my kitchen, get out of my house, and you leave my umbrella out of this." He waved it threateningly at her.

"Please. I just ...I just want to ..."

"Get out, or I'm calling the police." He strode to the kitchen counter, picked up the phone, started to dial -

"NO!"

A short, sharp scream. He turned, startled. Sandi was on her knees, one hand stretched out to him.

"Don't. They'll find me. They found me before."

His fingers felt numb around the telephone. He stared at her, kneeling on the kitchen floor. Her eyes looked ...pained?

"Please, Abe. I don't remember much, but I, but I ..."

And with a soft noise, she sank to the floor.

"Sandi!"

He caught her as she fell. She was as light as he remembered; for a moment, he just stood there, holding her.

Then he sighed and carried her up the stairs, cradled in his arms like a child.

2.

Their bed was covered with the blue linens Sandi chose the day they bought the house. Abe propped her up and mopped her head with a warm, wet towel, not really sure if it was helping - for all the special care Julie needed, she rarely got sick, thank god; he wouldn't have known what to do.

It was something he'd always worried about since Sandi left. Not that he ever blamed her for leaving, except for Julie's sake.

A fairy tale. He'd thought of it that way, sometimes. There she was, a hotshot MBA, banging some guy who worked at the corner bookstore. He never knew what she saw in him; whenever he asked, she just rolled her eyes and giggled as if he'd said something funny.

They settled down and had Julie. She quit her job to take care of Julie's disorder. The police told him that might have been what got to her, eventually.

Two days short of Julie's tenth birthday, Sandi left home and never came back.

Now she was lying in their bed, wearing the same clothes she wore when she disappeared. "I remember ...shopping," she said, her voice distant. "For Julie's party. And there was this woman, talking to me. I thought she was friendly at first, then she started to ask more questions, and - "

She paused, and her eyes squeezed shut. "I can't remember. It's like something's stopping me, and it hurts when I try. All I remember is ...her."

"Who?"

"The woman." Her shoulders shivered lightly. "There were men with her, but she's the one I remember. Tall and blonde, always wearing black, a voice like ..." Her forehead scrunched up.

"Shhh. Don't try too hard."

She nodded, and sipped at the glass of orange juice he brought her. "I've been here the whole day, I think. It's still a little fuzzy. I was at the train station. Didn't have any luggage or anything. Everything looked so familiar. Then I was in a cab, and he was asking for my address. Then I was ...here. My house keys still worked. I sat on the sofa for a while. After that, I went to Julie's room. Then to ours. The house felt so empty, and I felt so ...sad."

She looked up at him. "Where's Julie?"

Julie. He thought about the first year after Sandi left, the nights Julie woke up crying for mommy. How he held her and told her no, it wasn't her fault, mommy didn't leave because Julie was a bad girl. How she didn't believe him, no matter how often he told her.

He blinked, and reached to stroke Sandi's hair. "She's done well," he said. "They think she can transfer to a normal school. And she's taller now, too. She's at her friend's house."

"Taller? How ...long was I gone?"

Didn't she know?

"Two years," he said, still stroking her hair.

She nodded and stared at her orange juice. "I think I got away from them once, last winter," she said. "It was snowing. I remember a police station, people asking me questions. But then she came to take me back. And I left with her. Just like that."

3.

Their refrigerator was sadly understocked, but Abe found enough meat to make her sandwiches. He piled on some lettuce, studied his handiwork, then added more ketchup. Sandi could eat anything if it had enough ketchup.

For a second, he stared at the phone on the kitchen counter. Then he gathered the sandwiches and carried them upstairs.

"They ...did things to me," she said, after she finished eating. She sat up on the bed and hugged her knees. "Made me do things, to them. For them. I remember ...liking it, I think. After a while."

"Drugs?"

"There was music. Lights. It hurt at first, and then it got better. Then it got so good that I didn't want them to stop."

Her eyes looked past him, unfocused. Small beads of sweat formed on her upper lip. "They trained me. Like an animal. When I fought, it hurt. And when I did good, it was like - oh god - "

Her voice trailed off. Her hands were on her thighs, kneading them softly. "So wet," she said, "Fingering me. Not stopping, never stopping. Rubbing my clit, my asshole ..."

He swallowed. "Sandi?"

She was moaning openly now, staring into space.

"Sandi!"

She looked back to him, and blinked. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "But I fought them, Abe," she said. "Fought them so hard, even after I stopped wanting to. Then I had to promise them I wouldn't fight anymore. Because they, they said ..."

"Shhh."

Then she pressed her face against his chest, and began to cry.

4.

They lay on the bed saying nothing, just clutching each other. After a while, Sandi looked up at him, her eyes shining.

"May I?"

Those were the same words he'd used on her, that first time they slept together. They were snuggling on her couch, listening to music, and he'd looked down at her nestled in his lap, and asked the same question she was asking him now.

"May I?" she said again, more softly.

Their kiss was light at first. Tentative, like teenagers on a first date. Then hungrier. Her tongue touched his, then probed into his mouth. His fingers moved to the buttons of her cardigan. But her hands caught them and pushed them back.

"Please don't look," she said. "Don't look, you'll see."

Then she sniffled and unbuttoned her top. The cardigan fell away, then the blouse. Her small, high breasts sprang out, unfettered by a bra. She looked down, her arms at her sides, avoiding his eyes.

Tattoos. In stylized gothic print. 'Slut' over her left breast, 'whore' over her right. And low on her belly, just above her pubis, 'bride'.

"I remember them doing it," she said, still not looking up at him. "It hurt. But she was touching me while they did it. Touching me, and laughing."

He pulled her closer. Bent down, and kissed each breast. Brushed his lips against the tattooed words. Then he moved lower to suckle her nipples, bathing each one with wide, slow strokes of his tongue. She inhaled sharply.

"Please," she said, "let me."

She pushed him back and straddled him. Unbuttoned his pants, pushed them down with her feet. He felt himself entering her; but it was tight, too tight. He looked and saw her trembling, staring down, her asshole poised over his penis.

"I ...have to do it like this. I can't start without, without - "

With a scream of pain, she shoved her ass all the way down. Her sphincter flexed around his cock. Her head fell back, her eyes closed.

"They ...make me keep myself lubed. So if someone wants my ass, I'm ready."

She lifted herself off him, her breathing labored. Then she screwed herself down again. He felt her buttocks grind against his pelvis. "Oh god," she said. "I need it, I need it so bad." Her words came faster, a litany interspersed with grunts and squeals. "Do it, stick your cock up my dirty little ass, watch me play with my horny cunt, oh yes, fuck my ass, do it now."

With each breath, she humped herself on his cock, pulling her nipples, fingering her sex, chanting and cursing aloud with words he didn't know she knew. He felt his erection throb in her tightness.

Her cursing grew louder, faster. Then suddenly, she gave her nipples a final, brutal twist. Her dark eyes stared into his; her mouth opened as if to say something, but all that came out was a strangled groan.

Then she fell down on top him, covered her face, and sobbed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I feel so dirty, but I have to - I have to - and they made me like it, and ..."

He hushed her, and turned her over. Pulled out and entered her sex. Touched a finger to her mouth, and waited until she stopped sobbing.

Then slowly, gently, they made love.

5.

In the afterglow they huddled together for long, long minutes, their bodies spooned. It was what they always did before; his big, pale body covering Sandi's small form, her black hair smelling fresh and clean against his face.

"It really is you, isn't it?" she said.

She tugged his arm and wrapped it more tightly around her. "Those first times," she said, "when they ...raped me, and I couldn't stop them anymore, I'd close my eyes and pretend it was you."

Then she turned over and looked at him with the same glow she had when they first had Julie, so many years ago.

"When they gave me to other women, I pretended it was you. When I woke up with strange men riding me, ordering me to like it, I pretended they were you." She touched his cheek. "And when I fell asleep with someone beside me, it was always you, only you."

"Sandi, I - "

Before he could finish, she whimpered and crawled down to his cock. She took him in her mouth and began to suck him, her tongue swirling with the skill of a whore, her black hair hooding her face. He felt himself swell and harden; his fingers tensed and dug into the blue bedspread.

Then both her hands gripped his shaft softly, and she looked up, a string of drool and pre-cum stretching from her lips like something out of a porn movie.

"It's really you this time, isn't it?" she said, her voice filled with wonder, her hands squeezing him with practiced care, making him groan. "You're not just another game she's playing with me? Please Abe, tell me I'm not pretending anymore. I've waited for so long."

He tried to answer, but then she bent back down with a strange, ravenous noise, and all he could do was moan.

6.

They slept, satiated.

He dreamed they were in Halifax again, on their honeymoon. They were older, but the streaks of grey that colored Sandi's black hair did nothing to dull her smile; and Julie was with them, all grown up, and she was smart and normal and so beautiful, like her mother.

They saw the sun dip under the Nova Scotia coastline, and watched the sky start to turn from blue to purple to black. Then Sandi took his hand and told him there was something else; something she couldn't remember.

But she told him it was okay, that everything would be all right, and she kissed him and made love to him again under the dying blue sky.

7.

Abe woke up to moonlight filtering in through the thin, white curtains.

She was sitting at the dresser, her dresser, the one he hadn't touched since she left, still filled with all the little things he'd stared at every night for a year. Her hand traced over them, touching each one: their framed picture from the Canadian coast, her collection of small, porcelain animals, the crumpled origami flower Julie made in second grade. Her fingers lingered, as if trying to press the memory into her mind.

"I remember now," she said.

She crawled over to him on the bed. Her lips pressed against his, the kiss harsh and strong, her tongue probing his mouth with sudden hunger. Her hands gripped his wrists and pinned them against the backboard. Then she fumbled for her purse, and -

- a prick of pain. In his left arm. He jerked back. Clutched at the numbness spreading just below his shoulder.

"A day," she said. Her head was hanging down, and her black hair covered her eyes. In her right hand was the plastic syringe she'd pushed into him. "I remember now. She offered me a day, and I promised I'd stop fighting. Just one day, midnight to midnight, like in the fairy tale."

No. Not now ...

He reached for her, tried to touch her face. But his hand was too heavy. And his body was sinking into the bed, and then she was looking back at him with sad, sad eyes.

Her tongue wetted her parted lips. "It's happening," she said. "They're calling me back." Her breathing quickened. Then she moaned and her body jerked; once, twice.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's not fair. Just a little more time."

The room faded around him. His head fell back, his cheek pressed against the cotton pillowcase. His mouth hung open, trying to form words. He saw Sandi's right hand trace a line down her belly, to her cunt, now swollen and wet. Her other hand played up and down her undulating body.

"Can you hear her? She's calling me. Mistress wants her bride back. And she knows I'll come, knows that I - ohhh - won't stay away."

She froze, and her eyes snapped open.

"Because if I don't come back, she'll take Julie in my place."

Her fingers stroked on between her spasming thighs. "J-Julie," she said, her voice hoarse and hungry. "Mistress will take my Julie. Take her and train her. Make her fuck the way I fuck. Make her do the things I did. Make her like it, just like me."

She threw her head back, both hands now working furiously at her slit. Her voice was different now, high and girlish. "N-no, Mistress," she whined. "Sandi just wanted more time, that's all. Sandi won't fight anymore. Mistress doesn't need to take Sandi's baby girl. Please don't take - "

She stiffened, making the soft squeals she always made at the peak of their lovemaking. Moonlight lit her face, painting it a pure white, stark against the shadows on her breasts where he couldn't see the tattooed words.

Her eyes opened: bright and clear. She crouched and touched her lips to his forehead. And as her face lifted away, he saw no tears on Sandi's cheeks.

"You were my fairy tale," she said. "Tell my Julie."

Then the room was empty, and he saw nothing at all.

END

Jeff

Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/ For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/

There is nothing more important than petting the cat.

From: Dryad
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: 5 Sep 2002 06:02:15 -0700

Arclight,

a very powerful WOW. I'll try to say what i want without repeating my friends:)

@> - >-
While many of the comments i've read so far points to the rush at the end as a negative, I have to totally disagree. When I read that, it seemed perfect. Sandi all of the sudden realizes her time is up, and she panics, going though the rest of the story double time, just like Cinderella running so fast down the stairs, she loses her damn shoe. The pace helps set the desperation Sandi feels.

@> - >-
"She stiffened, making the soft squeals she always made at the peak of their lovemaking. Moonlight lit her face, painting it a pure white, stark against the shadows on her breasts where he couldn't see the tattooed words." This is brilliant. It shows both who she really is, and what she has become.

now for the minus' ...

well, everyone pretty much mentioned mine ... Abe's character was either in shock the entire time, or he was a bit flat. It wouldn't make sense for us to see his thoughts, but i think more of them could come out in his words and actions.

Thanks for a great read!
Dryad

From: PleaseCain
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: 06 Sep 2002 22:44:39 GMT

Good writing, and a wild concept. I especially liked the contrast between his interior monologues and his actions, particularly when he discovered her in the kitchen during the first scene.

The daughter's "disorder" could be better spelled out: detail and specificity are your friends here. Also, for the sake of the plot, I think the story could use a little more incredulity and tension following her reappearance, before they begin fucking already. She is purporting to have suffered a two-year blackout, after all - hardly a common occurrence.

I definitely want to read more of this. It's a hot idea.

Cain

From: Desdmona
Re: The Prodigal Bride, by Arclight
Date: Sat, 7 Sep 2002 00:52:14 -0400

********************************************** The Prodigal Bride (mc MF) By Arclight
[email protected]

Arc~

I don't read too many Mind Control stories because of the nonconsensual aspect of them. You circumvented that by having Sandi just remember snippets. It was very provocative and interesting.

One thing I'd also like to echo from others is Abe's flatness. He shows emotion right at the beginning and then nothing else. Wouldn't he be angry with her captors, especially when he sees the tattoos. Even a "Oh, my god, Sandi! What did they do to you?" kind of thing.

There are a couple of places that might need just a little clarification.

His fingers felt numb around the telephone. He stared

at her, kneeling on the kitchen floor. Her eyes looked ...pained?

"Please, Abe. I don't remember much, but I, but I ..."

And with a soft noise, she sank to the floor.

"Sandi!"

He caught her as she fell. She was as light as he remembered; for a moment, he just stood there, holding her. <<

I think if she's kneeling and slumps to the floor, it would be difficult for him to just catch her. And then there doesn't seem to be any transition here that he not only catches her, but also picks her up. Maybe she could slump to the floor and he just picks her up.

Another place:

Then he sighed and carried her up the stairs, cradled

in his arms like a child.

Their bed was covered with the blue linens Sandi chose the day they bought the house. Abe propped her up and mopped her head with a warm, wet towel, not really sure if it was helping - for all the special care Julie needed, she rarely got sick, thank god; he wouldn't have known what to do. <<

You might consider breaking this up a bit so the she's and hers aren't so confusing.

Abe propped her up and mopped her head with a warm, wet towel, not really sure if it was helping. Julie required special care, but she was rarely sick. Thank god! He wouldn't have known what to do.

And finally:

She was sitting at the dresser, her dresser, the one he hadn't touched since she left, still filled with all the little things he'd stared at every night for a year. <<

This is just a little confusing because she's been gone for 2 years, and yet he stared at her things every night for just one year. Is this a mistake, or did some recovery take place and he stopped staring? I think the fact that nothing has been touched, not even sheets for years, probably means this is a mistake.

But mostly this is really well-written, interesting and fast moving in a blurry kind of way. Perfect for the type of story it is.

I hope this helps! And thanks again for considering the FishTank.

Des

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