Critique & Review

First I would like to say that I know I change tenses a lot. It is one of my worst. I especially do it when I'm excited and just writing.

Second, this is not the part I was OMG-ing about. This comes much, much later in the story. So, for those who requested it, I'm so sorry. But this will have to do.

So, yeah...go easy on me, and if the italics don't work on these...well, then it might just be a little hard to understand.

So, here it is.
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They are on a barren ice field, and though they are clothed for the desert, they cannot feel the cold.
�Weird,” KJ whispers. “Totally weird.”
Aqila nods in agreement, and turns in a circle. Behind them, she can see a big black thing sitting on the ice and the snow. “Look!”
“Do you want to see what it is?”
“Yeah, let us go. We are not going to get anywhere here.”
It takes them what seems like forever to realize that they have not even gone half the distance. “What do we do?” asks KJ.
“I do not know. Wait and see what happens.”
“Is that what you do?”
“I don’t know. Last time someone came and got me.”
They hear a creaking, and slowly turn around. Behind them is a pair of big, black horse walking towards them, making the snow and ice creak under their weight. They have no riders, but are saddled and bridled.
The two women look to each other, but when the horses stop before them, they gently get acquainted and mount up.
The horses move with beautifully arched necks and a powerful, walking gait. The horses take them to the black object that they saw earlier, which turns out to be just a round platform. On the platform is a figure standing in the center with a black cloak with a hood that covers the wearer’s face. The horses ride onto the platform and then the platform is suddenly rising up into the clouds.
“Dismount,” comes a male voice from the cloak. The platform is still rising, but the two women obey.
As the platform stops, the voice says, “Follow me.”
The horses turn to the left as the women follow the man in the cloak. At first, the clouds seem boring. They are fluffy, but nothing but white surrounds the women and the man in the cloak for what seems to be like hours.
Then they go over a hill to see a town. In the town is green grass and houses with straw roofs. There are four main roads leading to the fountain in the center of the city, and there are other roads that make numerous circles around the fountain. The man in the cloak pauses at the top of the hill.
He drops his cloak to reveal that he is not wearing anything underneath. His overall body type could be described as muscular.
Very muscular, Aqila and KJ think at the same time. They look at each other behind the man’s back, shocked to find that they can hear their thoughts to. At the same time, they look to the man.
Yes, he says. I can hear your thoughts. Just try not to look at me too much.
Alright, is their reply.
They walk down the hill and into the town. There they find people outside chasing children, shaking rugs, and hanging up bed sheets and blankets on drying lines. The only thing that was weird to the two women about this was that everyone did not wear clothing.
They walked all the way to the center of town, where the man stopped in front of the fountain to turn and face the guests. “Your challenge is to walk the rest of the way.”
The two women tried to keep their dream-selves from thinking.
“But you must keep your eyes on the door ahead.”
They can see it now. The door is black. And very, very ugly.
Who would want to go there?
“That is where you must go. You will not enter the door tonight, but you will soon. Now walk around the fountain, and at the other side, once you look at the door, or turn to start, your eyes must stay on the door.”
And if they don’t? neither of the women knew whose thought that was.
“You die. Both of you die. Even if one slips up.”
The look on his face made both women believe him.
“Walk.”
As Aqila walks around the fountain, she is careful to make sure her hand stays on the wall of the fountain as she looks at her feet. KJ does the same. When they both can see each others feet, they look into the face of the other woman.
After a few moments of silence, KJ takes Aqila’s hand and says, “Let’s do this.”
Aqila sighs and looks at the fountain. In its center is a woman standing in triumph over men, women and children dying at her feet. KJ sees it too, and then looks back to Aqila. “Let’s go.”
They squeeze on the other’s hand, and turn together toward the door. They walk with no problem from the fountain to the outside of the inner circle.
But just as they step on to the next street, suddenly there is screaming all around. Horrible screams, so horrible Aqila almost turns. No, is KJ’s steely voice in her head. Look at the door. Do not turn away from it.
They walk through the screams, the horrible, ghastly screams. They get louder and louder. They eventually grow so loud and so close together that the two women cannot hear anything else.
But as soon as they step into the first intersection there is silence once again, making KJ almost loose her focus. No, Aqila yells with her mind, squeezing her hand harder. Not now. Not now. Focus.
They cross the silent street. But before they take another step, they stop and interlink fingers.
They step, and suddenly there are people around them, bleeding and bruised. The women can see them out of the corner of their vision, but they keep their eyes on the door. The people come closer, screaming for help.
“Oh, look at me.”
“Why won’t you help?”
“Can’t you see how he hurt me?”
“Look at my child, he killed my baby!”
Wails and screams and cries assaulted the women from the men, women and children that were now surrounding them, almost touching them.
It brought tears to their eyes, to walk away. Still they kept their eyes on the horrible, looming, black door.
The screams, cries, demands, and burns, bruises and gaping wounds got worse the closer the women got to the next intersection.
The last three feet people grabbed at their clothing, their arms, and their joined hands.
By the time they stepped into the silence of the next intersection, their clothes were tattered and they had bruises of their own on their arms and hands.
But they never let go of each other.
And they never let go of the door.
They take their time on this break of silence, sharing thoughts all the way.
The silence is more deafening than the screams.
Yeah, it really is.
And then we step out there, and…
…it all starts again.
You ready?
Let’s just get it over with.
They step together across the invisible line.

~Jessi~
Blessed Be