skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 2, 2007 11:07:06 GMT -5
I am the dreamer, and I paint the pictures, and I have the visions...
Escapism
Run. The dark corridor lay before me, never ending and never changing. The doors continued to fly by rapidly, and the torches kept up they’re ominous glow. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest and my lungs were gasping for breath, but I couldn’t stop. RUN! The disembodied voice whispered in my ear, urging me faster. My sight was hazy with the effort, but I couldn’t give up, not now. Not after all that I’d been through…… RUN!!!! I screamed and forced my legs to move faster, but I couldn’t escape the doom that was sure to catch me. Then, amidst my raging emotions, a single thought crossed my mind; what was I running from?
Reaching
The darkness encompassed me in its cold hard grip. The only sign that I was still alive was my beating heart and slow even breathing. My body was numb from the cold and I felt nothing but the frozen ground beneath my feet. The air was still. I brought one foot in front of the other and searched for something in the nothingness. My pace quickened as I was struck with panic. I had no idea of where I was going or where I had been, only that I needed to get out.
An orb of light appeared in the distance, suspended in the air. I ran faster to catch up to the only sign of hope I could see. I slowed as I approach the glowing sphere and in the center I could now see the radiant face of a girl. She smiled and opened her arms to me. I smiled back and reached out to her with one hand.
I was so close to relief, so close to happiness. Just as I was about to grasp it, the orb shattered and I was thrust once again into utter blackness.
A Fiery Apocalypse
The putrid smell of smoke consumed the air while panicked people flooded the streets. Their screeches of terror and agony were the only sound to be heard.
A baby sat wailing by the side of the street, discarded like trash. A sharp boom reached his ears as once again another car exploded and sparks were thrown into the air, ready to catch it's next victim.
The baby only cried louder.
There was no escape for the doomed city folk, the pillars of smoke blocked every exit. Some accepted their fate and stood quietly on the side walk, contemplating their final moments, while still others ran around in circles, praying for a miracle.
Today was the day we die. Better make the most of it...
Instinct
I awoke to the sound of the car’s dying engine. Shards of glass were scattered all over the dashboard and my clothes were stained with blood. Hot and wet liquid trickled down my check.
“DAD!” I tried to scream but the only noise that escaped my throat was a hoarse whisper. I tried to sit up but the slightest movement rent my skull in two. I waited, unmoving, till the pain subsided to a dull throbbing before attempting to rise again.
I sat up slowly and scanned the surrounding area through the cracked glass. On the horizon the sun was slipping easily behind the canopy of trees, the last slivers of golden rays snaked their way through the dense leaves. Sharp shadows streaked across the spots of shimmering grass. Finally able to look past the wreckage I was beginning to understand what had occurred. My Dad, consumed in his rage, had narrowly missed hitting the man who came out of nowhere and drove off the road into a steep ditch, but he was not on the seat next to me.
Slowly and painfully I dragged myself out and lay on the grass, crying and moaning when I discovered my right arm was broken. I looked around for anything familiar and caught site of a human sized lump on the grass twenty feet in front of the car.
“DAD!” I screamed again and crawled to his side, but the only reply was my scream of agony when I discovered that he was already gone.
“Two down, one to go,” a smooth voiced hissed behind me. I jumped up still cradling my arm to see a pale man with long hair the color of moonlight that flowed down his back and blood red eyes. The eyes of a predator. He approached my father's lifeless body with feline grace. It was the same man we had almost hit. He stared disdainfully at the corpse and returned his smothering eyes back to my carefully composed face. His perfect features, menacing smile and merciless craving gaze made me cringe. “Such a shame your father had to die...”
The dwindling strands of light flecked across the man's face as he sauntered forward with desire to end a life.
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 2, 2007 17:05:46 GMT -5
A Broken Heart
The rain thundered in the field where I now stood. The flowers wept along side me. My tears and the rain that streamed down my nose and chin became one. My long scarlet hair was dripping water into my eyes but I didn’t dare move to brush it out of the way. There was no help for my new floral dress now.
Why did I let him do this? I collapsed on the grass and wildflowers. Clutching my chest and begging to be able to breathe. All I could do was weep. There was no time, no place; nothing but my slow disintegration. I racked my fingernails through the dirt and the weeds and pulled at my hair, but the physical pain did not lessen the pain of my torn insides. Where was my heart, my lungs, my whole being?
How could I have let this happen?
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 3, 2007 10:55:02 GMT -5
The first sign that I was alive was pain. Heaven was not this painful. Pain that cut through my veins like knives and burnt holes in me. Pain that compressed me in a tight ball that I couldn’t escape. At the edge of my consciousness I heard a girl wailing in agony, but I was slipping away. I was in a haze that kept getting thicker. I could feel that hands were grasping for me, trying to bring me back, but I was falling.
“Not now…” A voice crept into my head, frustrated and struck with grief. The words swept through the fog and encircled me, bringing me back from the depths. “No, come back…” the words themselves seemed to weep.
I was drowning and everything hurt and the voice, that agonizing voice, was drifting hoplessly around my mind, knowing that there was no escape and yet still searching.
And then I opened my eyes.
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 4, 2007 20:27:49 GMT -5
Threads of sunshine poked their way through the thick roof of leaves in the forest. Towers of trees rose on either side of the invisible deer path. Beads of water clung to a spider web woven between the branches of a small oak which stood no chance next to its brethren. Birds fluttered and scattered at the approach of a doe whose delicate feet barely made a sound as she picked her way around tree roots and thorns. She started at the sound of small padded feet scurrying out of the brush and continued on her way. The sun grew more and more prominent as the density of life slackened to reveal a sky reflected by a body of water. A half mile across a stag looked out over the expanse. The doe neared the edge of the lake, her instincts told her it wasn’t safe, but she had come great distances, and her thirst was overpowering. She dipped her small feet in the cool water and lowered her soft lips to the surface to...
BANG! A sharp noise reverberated through the wood, and the doe collapsed on the bank. The stag leapt into the safety of the shadows. Hot blood spilled from a hole in her neck and pooled on the ground around her. It stained her coat red.
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Thunderous
Full Member
They Have Pulled Down Deep Heaven on Their Heads
Posts: 210
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Post by Thunderous on Sept 4, 2007 20:48:45 GMT -5
I like it. Semi-poetic prose for those with short attention spans. Poe with ADD. But seriously, you should write something longer. It's not that hard once you get started. Once you get an idea, just keep on with it, and if you like you can skip the boring parts and do them later. But I'd love to read some longer things of yours. I know it could be awesome <3
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 6, 2007 19:32:39 GMT -5
I'm putting some of them together and making an actual story so far I've got two pages (typed) I can't stop putting words down
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 6, 2007 21:27:33 GMT -5
The rain thundered in the field where I now stood. The flowers wept along side me. My tears and the rain that streamed down my nose and chin became one. My long scarlet hair was dripping water into my eyes but I didn’t dare move to brush it out of the way. There was no help for my brand new floral dress.
Why did I let him do this?
I collapsed on the grass and wildflowers. Clutching my chest and begging to be able to breathe. All I could do was weep. There was no time, no place; nothing but my slow disintegration. I racked my violet fingernails through the dirt and the weeds and pulled at my hair, but the physical pain did not lessen the pain of my torn insides. Where was my heart, my lungs, my whole being?
How could I have let this happen? I could have stopped him. I could have gone with them. I should have gone with them. And now he was dead.
I closed my eyes and heaved air into my lungs. My body shook uncontrollably. Killed by some kind of animal, that’s what the coroner had said happened. I thought about my brother’s final moments, drenched in his own blood. I drifted into unconsciousness and my imagination ran wild.
Towers of trees rose on either side of the invisible deer path. Birds fluttered and scattered at the approach of a doe whose delicate feet barely made a sound as she picked her way around tree roots and thorns. The sun grew more and more prominent as the density of life slackened to reveal a sky reflected by a body of water. The doe neared the edge of the lake, her instincts told her it wasn’t safe, but she had come great distances, and her thirst was overpowering. She dipped her small feet in the cool water and lowered her soft lips to the surface.
BANG! A sharp noise reverberated through the wood, and the doe collapsed on the bank. Hot blood spilled from a hole in her neck and pooled on the ground around her and stained her coat red.
A hunter and his nephew emerged to claim their kill. The older man was clearly at home in the woods from years of camping and hunting, where as the younger man walked timidly behind, somehow managing to stumble over every rock and root in his path.
“And that, Jacob, is how you do it,” said the older man. He gently laid his gun on the dirt and squatted next to the carcass.
A lone wolf, exiled and mad with hunger, had caught scent of the blood and was lured to the small group and gazed intently at the meal from behind a bush. The wolf flexed its muscles and prepared to spring at the men oblivious to the danger around them.
I saw the wolf leaping out of the shadows and rip flesh from bone and saw Jacob reach for the gun. I saw him shoot at the wolf, and try and fail at killing it, and still manage to chase it away. I saw him stagger as the reality of his own wounds set in and I saw him and our uncle die beneath the canopy of trees…
“Oh, Iris,” my mother brought me back from the gruesome vision and into the protective circle of her arms; she shivered and stroked my hair, saying my name over and over again. “Oh, Iris, oh honey, it’s not your fault. You weren’t there, you couldn’t have done anything. Oh Iris, Iris…”
We sat like that swaying back and forth under the crying heavens, jewelry pinching skin, my body becoming numb as each second past.
The next thing I knew my father was carrying me into the house. My tears were staining his shirt but I didn’t care, I was still an only child now.
Sola, her small fluffy white body a small comfort, followed quietly behind us as I was gently laid in my bed and my dripping dress was pulled over my head. My mother helped me put on my night gown and pulled the covers up to my chin. ‘I love you’ was said and lights were turned off.
And I lay there…
Staring at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come.
I kept seeing his cold dead face in the coffin, and feared what it would look like in just one unbearably vivid dream.
From the next room I heard my mother’s sobs and the empty silence that was my father. My eyes had run dry and the only thing I could do now was stare at the ceiling. I traced the valleys and mountains and shadows that became my room. The lion statue on my shelf was no longer smiling, but smirking.
Denial…anger…despair…acceptance. When was I going to accept that he was gone?
I eventually fell into dreamland, but the nightmares were still just waiting for an opportunity to ravage my head.
… My body was numb from the cold and I felt nothing but the frozen ground beneath my feet. The air was still. I brought one foot in front of the other and searched for something in the nothingness. My pace quickened as I was struck with panic. I had no idea of where I was going or where I had been, only that I needed to get out.
An orb of light appeared in the distance, suspended in the air. I slowed as I approach the glowing sphere and in the center I could now see the radiant face of a girl. She smiled and opened her arms to me. I smiled back and reached out to her with one hand.
I was so close to relief, so close to happiness. Just as I was about to grasp it, the orb shattered and I was thrust once again into utter blackness…
Jacob wasn’t killed by a wolf, the words appeared in my heard as though being spoken and not just strands of thought, and jerked me back to the real world. I was clearly falling apart without my brother as a frame. I wiped dried tears and sleep from my eyes and turned over in bed. Sola leapt onto my bed and laid next to my ear, her bright blue eyes fixed with curiosity. It was cavemen.
That was not imagined. I sprain out of bed and ran to the opposite wall. I ran my hand along the rebellious black and yellow wall and listened intently, searching for the source of the voice, but it did not come from behind a wall or formed from a running imagination, instead the words were spoken softly and clearly into my ear, the voice as fragile as a child’s, “it’s me, Iris.”
I twisted around so violently I banged my head and elbow on the wall, but I was too distracted by the person in my room to notice the pain. An angelic girl so white and flawless and breakable stood in front of my bed. She was naked and her thin silvery hair flowed to her thighs, concealing most of her body, yet her eyes, so unlike the rest of her, were fierce and feline and drew my eyes into their crystal blue depths. The setting sun striped her skin through the venetian blinds.
My mind race at a million miles an hour with so many questions, I couldn’t speak, but I didn’t have to, she spoke for me, “my real name is Nasolia, but you can call me Sola.” she grinned and showed her white teeth, deadly as daggers.
“W-wa?” I stammered.
“Yeah, I know pretty corny right? A cat turning into a human,” she sat down on my bed and wrapped the blankets around herself. “Can I have some cloths? It’s cold in here.”
I was so stunned I immediately obeyed without thinking about what I was doing. I grabbed my sweatpants and an old shirt that didn’t fit anymore and Sola gratefully took them and stuck her willowy arms through the sleeves and pulled on the oversized pants and plopped back down on my bed.
“What are you?” I said as I regained my voice.
“I’m not exactly sure; you’ve had me since I was a kitten and found me in your backyard. I remember my mother; maybe I should tell you my story!” she said and grinned even more broadly. I felt giddy with confusion and hesitated before turning on a lamp and sitting down next to her.
She tucked her legs underneath her and her expression turned serious, and then began her story, “I remember my mom used to sing to me: see the slippery streams slithering out of the ground; to hear you must be quiet and not make a sound.
“She would always take me into the woods and teach me how to hunt the birds. One day she was edgy and afraid to take me into the woods, but I begged and she caved. God, why didn’t I listen to her? That day they attacked us, the cavemen, or that’s what I call them, they look like winged emaciated people with gray skin, fangs, black eyes and legs that look like they were cut from a lion and elongated to match their bodies. My mother was in her human form. Her strength was that of ten men and she could out run a cheetah. She fought fearlessly and killed every single one, I will never forget their smell, it’s like rotting flesh mixed with excrement.” She stopped and wrinkled her nose at the memory. “She was dying,” tears weld up in her eyes, “So I was brought here. ‘Stay here and keep your cat form around the humans,’ she told me and kissed my forehead one last time. ‘I love you’ she whispered and the last I saw her she was running freely in the forest.
“That smell,” she sobbed, “that’s how I know it was them, that putrid smell, the smell of death.”
I sat there, utterly speechless, while she wiped her eyes and pulled the covers more tightly around her. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table; it was just after six, almost dinner time. I had been sleeping for two hours.
“Lisi? You awake?” my mom called from behind the closed door.
I jumped to my feet as the words broke the silence. “Yeah, mom,” I called back. My voice was cracking.
“Honey, if you are feeling ok, someone wants to talk to you. He’s downstairs right now.”
“I’ll be down in a sec,” I reached into my closet and pulled out a pair of faded holey jeans and an oversized sweatshirt to match. I quickly changed and turned to deal with Sola. “Can you turn back into a cat?”
She looked up at me as if unwillingly pushed out of a trance. “I’d rather not; it hurts to change into a smaller form. Turning human on the other hand; it’s like taking off cloths that are two sizes too small. Hmmm, maybe I could hide under the bed if someone is coming, I’m pretty fast y’know and flexible, watch this!”
And just like that her enthusiasm was back. She stood on the bed and leapt into the air. She somersaulted at the peek, and fell to the ground landing lightly on her hands and springing back to her feet, quieter than dropping a paperclip on carpet.
“Uhh, ok, you do that,” I said incredulously. I turned to open the door and twisted the door knob, I cast one last glance to where Sola was standing, but she had already darted under the bed. I could not help smiling at her skills.
I jogged down the hallway and down the stairs, shielding my eyes from the tormenting family photographs. My dad was sitting in the reclining chair, his face in his hands. My mom was sitting cross legged on the couch in pajamas, red hair flaring in every direction, which was unusual seeing that we had a guest over. Across from my mom a short stocky man in a uniform sat self consciously on the edge of his seat. He stood up abruptly as I entered the room; he brushed his graying brown hair out of his face and reach over to shake my hand.
“You must be Iris, my name is Michael Lee. So as you probably guessed, I have some questions for you, why don’t you take a seat,” he smiled comfortingly and I walked over to sit between him and my mom. My dad looked up and at first I saw my face in his, he looked as helpless as an old man who’s seen too much with his blond hair that curled gently around his face, wrinkled in pain at the loss of his only son.
“You can call me Lisi,” my voice was barely audible. I sat still and waited for the questions to be asked so the answers could be told.
“Well really it’s only one question,” he pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket with a gold ring and a ruby bead on a small silver chain. I took the bag and examined the contents more carefully, engraved on the inside of the ring tiny letters spelled out two sentences: the carnivorous red flower will lick and consume. It will rage and destroy and spew its thick fumes. “Is this yours?”
“Where did you find this,” I asked, but I already knew the answer.
“Your brother was clutching it when he died.”
Your brother was clutching it when he died. The words rang through my head. I thought of where it had probably come from and the thought made me sick.
I had to show Sola.
“Umm, it’s not mine but I think I know whose it is,” I quickly lied. “Do you need it back?”
“No, it’s not evidence; you can take it out of the bag if you like.” I took out the chain and held it carefully in my hand.
“Well, you folks had been through so much, I thought I‘d return your property personally, have a good day now.” He picked himself of the couch, nodded his head to each of us and strode to the door. My dad followed him. I took the chain and headed back to my room.
This time I didn’t bother to protect myself from the swell of emotions when I saw our family picture. I couldn’t stop staring at him. We had the same hazel eyes and dark red hair, unlike most with fair skin, my older brother and I did not have freckles, just smooth creamy skin. The greatest difference I could see in the picture was my one green eye, and my much longer and flowing hair, compared to his spiky tangle.
I averted my eyes just in time to stop the droplets that were forming on my eye lashes. That was enough memories for today, now I had to get back to business.
I turned the door and entered the familiar comfort of my room. I silently checked under my bed and was surprised to see that no one was lying on the unseen carpet under my bed. It was after I had glanced around my room a few times to find other possible means of concealment that I realized the window was open, it had not been that way when I left the room. I walked over to the window sill and stuck my head out. There was nothing but the ageless field and forest out there. I cupped my hands and shouted her name, but it was obviously useless, she could not hear.
I pulled my head back in and sat at my eroded desk, deciding to leave the window open in case she came back. I fingered the imprinted words on the inside of the ring. The carnivorous red flower, now what could that mean?
I did not dwell on the question I had no answer for; instead I turned to scrutinize the other object, the ruby bead. Of course, it was just an ordinary gem that looked to brilliant for the shabby chain. I unclasped the chain and pulled off the bead. It looked even worse on my second hand desk.
I sat there for a few moments looking at it. It looked almost like a cherry, only sparkling in the lamp light. Well, I could sell it, or I could put it on a new chain or…wait, something was happening. I leaned forward and looked awestruck at the gem. It was changing, no, it was reshaping itself. The bead was no longer a bead but just a perfectly round gem. The hole was gone.
I looked down at the ruby as if it was an egg about to hatch. Was it going to change again? Was it going to leap off the table and attack me? No, it just sat there like inanimate objects were supposed to do, except, it seemed to be watching me.
It was then that I felt the presence at the window. I twirled around to see Sola crouching on the edge of the window, a dead bird held in her iron jaw. She cocked her head to see what I had been staring at a moment before. Her face turned grave and she dropped the unfortunate creature.
Her eyes grew wider and her jaw dropped and she took slow footsteps toward the bewitched rock. Her fingers shook as she stuck them out to hold the gem. She seemed to be on the brink of cracking. Her spindly fingers brushed the gem so delicately, I feared the stone could explode at any time, but all it did was sit there and watch us.
I was about to ask her what was wrong when she did it, she cracked, and she crumbled and lay on the floor like dust.
She closed her fingers around it and brought it to her chest. Her eyelids slid closed. When she opened them they were swimming with not tears, but hate. She sprinted to the window and jumped out, landing agilely on her feet, her short legs covered the field in a matter of seconds and the last I saw her she was disappearing into the tree’s shadows.
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Thunderous
Full Member
They Have Pulled Down Deep Heaven on Their Heads
Posts: 210
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Post by Thunderous on Sept 6, 2007 23:24:05 GMT -5
Right, first off I want to say that this is pretty awesome stuff and no matter what I say you should definitely continue with the story. That said, there are a few things I noticed that could be improved. First of all, it's unclear when exactly the flashback ends and the narrative resumes. That could be helped by using past participle ("had gone" instead of "went" etc,) during the flashback. Another way to make that transition between flashback and narrative smoother would be to limit the amount of detail given in the memory. The neccessary backstory could just as easily (and much more convincingly) be given in three or four sentences. Or you could find some happy medium. The one other thing I want to mention now (I don't have time for a full-blown critique) is that sometimes there are things that don't fit with themood of the story. Like your use of the word "ultra" by the narrator, or having the angel-cat-person thing talk in a casual, modern tone in one place and then go to a wordy, more descriptive and poetic sort of language a moment later. Stuff like that. Anyway, keep up the good work, please don't take this the wrong way and get discouraged, and I look forward to reading the rest ofthis.
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 7, 2007 17:23:03 GMT -5
well if this makes it any clearer, it's not exactly a flashback, it's her dream of what she thinks happened, it didn't actually happen like that If it's a dream, should it still be given in four or five sentences?(honest question) I don't think I could do that anyway also, I can't find where I said "went"
replace this sentence "Jacob wasn’t killed by a wolf, the words appeared in my heard as though being spoken and not just strands of thought" with:
Jacob wasn’t killed by a wolf, the words appeared in my heard as though being spoken and not just strands of thought, and jerked me back to the real world.
and about the angel-cat-person thing's speech, I guess I kinda do that, talk casually when I'm excited or bored and then and then get really decriptive when I'm emotional (which really doesn't happen that often)
those were some my thoughts while writing, do they make it more clear?
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Thunderous
Full Member
They Have Pulled Down Deep Heaven on Their Heads
Posts: 210
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Post by Thunderous on Sept 7, 2007 20:36:50 GMT -5
You should make it clear that it's a dream, then. I totally wouldn't know that unless you'd just told me. D: I was using "went" as an example. I meant to turn all the verbs in what I thought was a flashback into past participle, and made the example in case you didn't know what that was. Now that I know it's something more like a dream or an implanted memory, that might not be the best idea. Since it's an implanted memory, you might have her struggle to remember what happened, and even let her notice that a few details are completely missing. She'll attribute this to her grief and post-stress until she learns cavemen hypnotized her or whatever. By "three or four sentences" I mean, "I remembered flashes of what happened, but the memory was strangely vague. I saw my brother and uncle kneel by the body of a doe they had just killed, saw a dark, scrawny wolf, hair filthy and matted, as it crept toward them from the woods behind. A sudden noise, fierce and animal. Blood. Ripped flesh. I saw myself crawl, in shock, to the empty field where I now stood." Etc. This is just to get my point across; I wouldn't expect you to copy it, but I won't mind if it's similar. And, yes, your post made it much more clear, but you need to make in clear in the story, or else people won't know what's going on. The time period is also unclear; the floral dress suggests it's a long time ago, but it could very well be a modern girl who has a liking for very modest clothing. Please don't take this offensively if you happen to frequently wear floral dresses. ~_~ A good plot device is to have a character either flip a light switch or light a candle or a lantern; this can be an easy yet subtle way of telling the reader when the story happens. Also, while your writing is wonderfully descriptive, in a longer narrative people generally prefer a more straightforward style of storytelling. This is why a lot of people hate to read 19th-century literature. (I love it, by the way, i'm just letting you know what will and won't sell in case you ever try to get published. Chris's type of descriptiveness is one that is amazingly visual without often being overly wordy, but I suppose that's sort of his trademark and you'd be hard-pressed to try and emulate it.)
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 7, 2007 21:06:36 GMT -5
wow I'm sorry but you've got the story all wrong, but it's all my fault because you do
I think I will rewrite the whole thing, but first of all I want to say that she wasn't exactly there, she didn't see it with her own eyes, why would you where a dress if you were hunting in the woods? she obviously just got back from a party or a funeral! (well, I would think it's obvious) NO MEMORIES she imagined what happened by what the cops told her and the evidence, but I was going to bring them into the picture later
and, oh yeah, sweatpants, but I guess that wasn't enough
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Post by shyviolet on Sept 8, 2007 2:51:30 GMT -5
Wow, having read all these comments I'm going to have to agree that it was totally unclear what was going on! I thought it was something completely different!
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Post by lisajane on Sept 9, 2007 0:36:45 GMT -5
This is pretty good, but some constructive criticism for you:
Try to find a bigger choice of words. I noticed that in a few paragraphs, you used the word 'saw' several times, which can wind up making the paragraphs dull and uninteresting to read. Find other words to replace 'saw' (it's like using 'he said' and 'she said' and 'they said' for every bit of dialogue - gets really boring).
I would suggest using present tense for the beginning, and when your character goes into the dream, then start using past tense. It makes the story much clearer and easier to follow for the reader.
I think at times your story is a bit overdescriptive. Perhaps try to cut the story back to its bones.
Run a spellchecker through your work, I noticed several misspelled words, and too many can really take away from the story.
If you want the reader to completely understand what's going on in your story, you need to write down what you want to convey clearly. Personally, with readers of my stories, I like readers to have their own opinions of what's happened in the story, and share that with me, even if their idea of the story is totally different to my own. There is no point in telling a reader what's supposed to happen AFTER they've read the story - you need to have written the story so the reader gets the point while reading. If you want the readers to have a specific idea of what happens, and they don't get that idea, don't take it as a personal attack - rather, see where you can change your story for the better for the readers to get that idea.
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 9, 2007 11:58:13 GMT -5
So all he could do was stand there, and stand he did. He stood and regarded the world in all its bloody glory.
All he could do was watch.
So he watched and bowed his head for the brave who fought and fell in battle in the name of peace, and the cowards who never stepped forward to claim fame that only asked for blood.
He watched as people entered their labyrinth, and puzzled at the only way out. He watched as the world suffered from evil that was simply ignorance and stupidity.
He contemplated the mighty kings who counted their gold and the humble farmers waiting for their crops to be sold. He stood and laughed at the wise fools trapped in the trickster’s lies and the innocence that was clever enough to escape.
All he could do was wonder.
So he pondered why with all the loss of life, the sun still rose and fell and the waves still churned and bees still collected pollen from plants who still reached for the heavens. He opened his mind and saw oblivion stretch out before him and worried over exactly how long he had.
His mind wandered off with the great heroes on their quests to impress the world with feats that would only destroy. And he pitied the poor girl dying in the streets, exposed to this cruel world.
He fretted his limitations, but all he could do was fret.
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skyrider
Junior Member
this impulse blinds the world from true sensations
Posts: 55
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Post by skyrider on Sept 13, 2007 18:01:04 GMT -5
Ok, I know it's FAR from perfect, but I modified my story, do you think it sounds better?
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