Show off your Writing!

[Darklord Rooke]

Okay, I’m looking at draft 2. Paralysing air? I’m reading this and being confused. How does the air paralyse you? There's quite a few different ways the air can paralyse you, and the image becomes confused when you don't describe adequately. You’re trying to build an atmosphere with your words, which is why you’re grabbing for powerful adjectives like “paralysing,” but the way to create a mood for the reader is to be as descriptive as possible. The way you be descriptive is to show, not tell. The more you “show” the more the reader is transported into the scene and that’s when you build atmosphere. Telling has its place, but not in any scene where you want to build an atmosphere, and not to the extent you’re using it.

 

Of course visuals help, but not in this instance because you’re describing a “touch” sensation. You need to get out of the habit of trying to produce an atmosphere with (confusing) adjectives. “Stinging terror” piercing eyes? What is that trying to describe? Also something which embraces you doesn’t feel like you’re having a knife stabbed through your chest. Again an image problem (your job is to convey images of what’s happening to the reader, make sure your images aren’t pointlessly confusing.)

 

Regarding short sentences, short sentences are fine, there are some wonderful authors who specialise in writing mostly in short sentences. It’s HOW you do it, and you’re not doing it right.

 

Work on producing an atmosphere by showing and dropping the excessive adjectives. If you get that sorted, then that alone will improve your drafts of this scene immeasurably.

 

Draft 1 is the best, purely because it contains fewer of those confusing 2 word descriptive combinations. Although “fragments of my mind fall to the ground” is a little weird. 

[Kygrykhon]

As usual, my line edits are in the spoiler tags and you can look through them at your own discretion. Feel free to leave some comments or questions concerning the edits in case there are any pertinent doubts that you still have after reading through them. Some problems I noticed were your inconsistent tenses and meaning of some the sentences being lost due to the high diction.

 

Red Ribbon

 

Big Fishes' Carnival at The Lake - Red Ribbon

A funeral. The red ribbon still on the wrist.

None wondered why a cluster of humans gathered around a coffin much like people gather around campfires, albeit the contrast in atmosphere. Although obstructed by layers of griefing (grieving) acquaintances, one could clearly imagine (Should this be 'see' or is this not happening at the moment?) a lady on (in) her forties kneeling down, stupidly banging on the coffin walls (,) wailing for explanations, her cry of sorrow striking the hearts of every (everyone present). The father, a tall man of calmness, (What's a man of calmness?) would softly hold her shoulder, and although excruciated (<--- should be in present tense), would patiently wait for his beloved wife to quench out all her tears (let it all out), her questions unanswered. As the last line of sorrowlessness (sorrow) (What's a line of sorrowlesness?) break(s) in them one by one, they started to look away, unable to bear (Unable to bear what?), unprepared for a mising existence (this sudden loss). For a person so loved, the breathless persona must be of kind nature. (Too verbose. It could just be 'he must have been a very kind person.')

A church. The red ribbon still on the wrist.

Sat a girl in front of the hearing wall, with ‘crying’ unable to explain her state (Suggestion: A girl cried as she sat in front of the hearing wall, unable to explain her anguish). She did say about wanting and end, but never with so much blood on her hands. Now those hands of a murderer (These murderer's hands) were only capable of meaninglessly trying to hide the flowing tears, of sadness, of fear. Imagine a line of good people, standing in line outside the church, so that they could point a judging finger on (at) her one by one. Imagine the word “killer” that everyone had been (spewing, clinging to her skin) vomitting to grossly stick to her skin, with her unable to cleanse it for it was truth. She could make mistake (Not sure what this sentence means? Should there be a 'no' in between 'make' and 'mistake'?). Nobody told her this was an exception, for even her new beloved walked away from her. She never had the chance to explain.

A newspaper. The red ribbon still on the wrist.

Trampled on the ground, covered in the snow of yesterday (yesterday's snow), it hadn’t given up on informing, on spreading the words regarding (it told of) a murderer walking (by) your street, a succubus so fragile yet prevailed in ending the life (strong enough to end the life) of a genius. It said he found the cure to cancer. It said he would have a bright future. It said he brought joy to many. It said his voice liven up (was a blessing) the still-beating hearts of the tortured. Yet she stopped him, good. She didn’t want to. She didn’t mean to. She did, with his love for her.

A diary. The red ribbon still on the wrist.

Photos of lovely couples were pasted (glued) on every page but the last. She appeared to have a good life, a happy relationship, a dream world. In every page would be the (there was the) word “love”, written not (out) of blasphemy but of sincerity. The last page covered in tears (Wouldn't the tears have smudged the writing?), she had written about her failure, about the second heart beating in her, about how she would only fail him and pull him down from the shining realms in which (where) he belonged. Thinking about him and his future, she thought she had made the ultimate sacrifice – to bury her feelings for his future.

A closed room. The red ribbon still on the wrist.

Darkness desperately tried to cover this room with oblivion (drag this room into oblivion), yet it failed to conceal the horrible decision made by the owner of the room (crime committed by the owner of the room) – for blood could be smelled (there was a stench of blood), and pictures of her found everywhere you look(ed). A piece of paper explained it all; a crumpled little note for no one to find. It said he couldn’t go on without her. He said she was cruel, the note displayed (The note mentioned what he thought about her cruelty). He said the world was cruel, the note displayed (It was a testament of his ire toward the world). His trophies didn’t matter anymore, (End sentence with a period here.) his (His) flowing wealth much like an army of ants passing by; insignificant, irrelevant (utterly worthless). All he wanted was her, and when she was gone for good, there was no reason (would be no more reason) for blood to run through his veins.

For him to choose the easy path, many must suffer.

I desired to stay, but again the red ribbon pulled my hand(.) and so I was dragged away, with everything being sucked into the future(.) and I could only accept, wondering if there was any reason for the ribbon to show me all these (All these what? Memories?). Then I realized what it truly was. (Sudden P.O.V shift from the previous paragraph.)

A mirror. The red, flowing blood still on my wrist.

I refused to believe what I saw (In his head? In the mirror?), yet no longer could I run from the story, for memories of my life were coming back to me. The crazy times I spent with my friends, the joy and grief I shared with my parents, everything felt like yesterday: painfully close, yet inevitable unreachable and unchanging. The trip to Disneyland with her, the nights I spent researching with her patiently waiting for me, occasionally reminding me of how late it had been, although I never complied (listened) to her protests, everything was back. I was in a coffin, and now I’m here standing in front of myself. Then the last question remained: may I?

Yes, you may, answered the blood.

Thus I threw away the knife that was about to kiss my wrist, and the pain was no longer (more). I slammed the door open, and ran with all my strength to find her. I didn’t know who saved me, I didn’t know why I deserved such an impossible chance. But one thing I know for sure: that the blade was never an answer. What a fool I am to even consider (it).

 

This was a story about a man who is contemplating taking his life because the love of his life has left him. It is hinted at one point in the story that the woman is a succubus and that she is pregnant with the man's child. Throughout the story we see how with the man gone, who I believe is some kind of doctor, many people would be sad and she would most likely carry the burden of  his death for the rest of her life. The tone of the piece is sorrowful anf foreboding. The repetition of the red ribbon is very nice and shows how she is always with him despite the arduous task he is about to take. The red ribbon and the blood seem to be what connect them. Ultimately, he decides to throw away the knife and go look for her, deciding to live for her sake.

 

It seems that for the most part we are in a room with a third-person oniscient narrator and only briefly come to learn about the outisde world as the protagonist delves into his memories. I actually thought the story took place in some Vcitorian/Gothic setting because of the diction and tone of the piece, so I was a bit taken aback when the word 'Disneyland' appeared. I don't have a problem with this, but would have liked to see more clues scattered throughout the story that hinted as to whether this was all taking place in the present day or not. I really liked the amount of introspection that you included in the story and it felt realistic for the most part because we could see the protagonist struggling with the idea of leaving his beloved behind and putting a lot of people through a lot of pain. I'm curious as to the nature of the woman he is referring to throughout the story but I understand why the ambigous nature is there since this story is focused more on him than on the terms concerning their relationship.

 

Watch out for your tenses since many times within the same sentence or paragraph you had a tendency to shift between present and past tense. I would just keep it all in present tense since we come to believe that the first half of the story had happened already until we come back to the present moment. It'll make more of an impact when we realize the severity of the situation and see where things could have gone for the protagonist. There were few grammar mistakes and you have good control over your syntax which made it easy to read. The voice of the character is natural for the most part since he's a doctor so one would expect his vocabulary to be pretty robust. A friendly reminder, sometimes less is more and and you can give off the same effect when you use packed details and condense your sentences. Some of the emotional was dulled because you overdid it with the language.

 

Overall, it was a good read. Thanks for sharing!

 

Thank you for reviewing this 

Now I see that there's a lot of unnecessarily long sentences and grammar mistakes. I suppose I need to work on that.

 

I also realize that some of the points I intended to convey in this writing doesn't go through, but it makes for another interesting take on the writing itself.

 

About the sudden change in POV, this is actually something that I'm experimenting with this writing. You see, what's described on the first part of the story is actually things that the doctor (not giving him a name proved to be inconvenient) witnessed/saw, shown by the ribbon. He's describing those events in third person perspective, and when he's drawn back to the present he's using first person because, well, it's happening to him. I intended to write this as the plot twist, but is it to sudden after all? How should I write for it to have that twist? 

[Rinima]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1x2DhZk4msWzN5dMjiHEX9kRo_pN4P0SJsEznau09Ul0/edit?usp=sharing

Quick little date scene I wrote up about a month ago. 

Crit wanted please

[Zodai]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1x2DhZk4msWzN5dMjiHEX9kRo_pN4P0SJsEznau09Ul0/edit?usp=sharing

Quick little date scene I wrote up about a month ago. 

Crit wanted please

[Rinima]

I'd read it now but my mom's dragging me outside and I'll be without internet for a bit.  Will try and follow up later.

[atorq]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1x2DhZk4msWzN5dMjiHEX9kRo_pN4P0SJsEznau09Ul0/edit?usp=sharing

Quick little date scene I wrote up about a month ago. 

Crit wanted please

[Rinima]

This:

should be reworded or scrapped. The latter in my opinion as it adds nothing.

 

Also that tea+muffin sure was cheap in comparison to the expensive coffee.

[Zodai]

Okie dokie, thanks. Got rid of the sentence and made the tea and muffin a bit more expensive. Thanks for the tips *thumbs up*

 

Just know I'm readying my feedback, just finished Bethesda's E3 conference and the hype is staggering my body a bit.

[Rinima]

Just know I'm readying my feedback, just finished Bethesda's E3 conference and the hype is staggering my body a bit.

[Zodai]

*patiently awaits the feedback* ^^ 

[Rinima]

It's coming.  I hope.

 

Apologies ^^;;

Haha no worries, you don't owe me a thing, I should be thanking you for taking the time

[Zodai]

Haha no worries, you don't owe me a thing, I should be thanking you for taking the time

[Rinima]

Thanks for the feedback! It actually is super helpful

 

Mind if I address some of the issues? 

 

"Aside from that, it's a little difficult to read due to the format, and the descriptions are kind of weak.  While the narration gets the protagonist's voice across to an adequate degree, it's coupled with descriptions that neither convey the scene as a whole or pull a vivid sense of a single thing.  I realize that you might be grabbing heavily from art in this sense, and it's usually a benefit, though the art can only convey things in a visual sense.  Focus on other senses as well - sound, smell etc, and see if you can improve on that." 

Actually, I hadn't though of any of the other senses, and I'm actually really glad you pointed them out. I agree, my descriptions are weak (at least, in vn's they tend to be, oddly enough, I have the opposite problem in prose writing, heavy detailed descriptions, terrible dialogue), and could defo use some work in terms of vn's at least.

 

"characters themselves don't feel very strong"

I also forgot to mention that these character's aren't actually mine, and at the time of writing the draft, only had a basic character portfolio that I was trying to follow, so the reason for this issue is more to do with my *ahem* fear? of stepping on the original creators toes and the other writers toes by giving them additional characterises ect ect I know I sound like I'm making excuses, but anyone in my shoes will know what I'm talking about when it comes to writing a basic character which hasn't been fully developed yet and having to do it with other writers.

 

"conflict/character arc" That's because there isn't one, I was literally just told to write a 'light-hearted' scene. 

 

 

I really should say what the aim of my writing were before I post for crit huh XD 

[Zodai]

No, on the contrary I'm of the opinion that an unbiased feedback is the best - Unless you're guiding what feedback you want in particular directions, it's best to try and let the writing speak for itself, at least in my opinion.

[Rinima]

^ In most cases yes, but the problem was, the crit wasn't really to relevant in this particular case due to the circumstances behind it (aka, I know how to make realistic, believable characters with good interactions, I pride myself on this part of my writing, it just wasn't so in this case that I literally couldn't do what I normally do, thus, what I ended up with was something that isn't as good as I normally produce) (apart from the senses bit, thanks for that) and that isn't your fault, it's mine for not saying before hand the circumstances in which this was written. 

[Zodai]

^ In most cases yes, but the problem was, the crit wasn't really to relevant in this particular case due to the circumstances behind it (aka, I know how to make realistic, believable characters with good interactions, I pride myself on this part of my writing, it just wasn't so in this case that I literally couldn't do what I normally do, thus, what I ended up with was something that isn't as good as I normally produce) (apart from the senses bit, thanks for that) and that isn't your fault, it's mine for not saying before hand the circumstances in which this was written.

 
As for this, the only advice I have is that I feel like it's good to try and push the voice and try to get feedback of what the overseer thinks.  Theoretically.

 
Alright, got internet at the new place!

Still a bit more moving stuff back and forth to do, though.
 
Anyway, I got a bunch of writing done on the way!  Got the fourth rewrite of that scene from earlier done, and it actually made it to the end this time around!
 
I'll be posting an additional scene for feedback later, but for now here's this one.
 

in the sky of a thousand stars.  It was raining until recently.  Ankle-deep puddles cover the alley, my torn clothes soaked in water and blood, like I’m drowning in a pool of ice.  2011, late August.  Thirty-something steps to the summer’s horizon.  Somewhere in Tokyo.  I’m not sure where.  A thick river of blood flows down my face, intense pain thumps at my head with every step.  Fragments of glass dig into my bare feet, littered across the ground, and tattered trash lies on the pavement in every direction.
     A mirror lies shattered by a wall.  A child’s face is reflected as I look – a young girl, 12 years old, 13 at most.  No older than a child.  Eyes like a shattered emerald.  A torrent of blood streaks down the right side of her face.  Her head looks like it was bashed into a wall.  A dark red blouse, ripped and torn and soaked to the bone – wet cloth sticks to her skin like a thirsty leech.  A brown skirt, like black snow, reaching halfway below the girl’s knees.
     Her eyes scare me – a vivid green broken and shattered.  Memories and hope crushed away into terror and dread.  Eyes like a shattered emerald.  A heart of the coldest steel.  She looks broken.  It makes me feel sick.
     I hear a ringing from the pocket of my skirt.
     “Hello, Hanase?”  I answer the call, and a young voice comes out the other end.  A boy, around my age.  A gentle sound.  Satou.  His name, or so the screen states.  “Um…Souna said you weren’t picking up.  I got worried.  Are you doing alright?  Are you hurt?”
     His voice is calming.  Uncertain, like a child.  Fumbling around his own words like an infant.  But, it’s kind.  A kind warmth contrasts the paralyzing cold.
     “I’ve…had better days, you could say.”
     “Where are you?”  “Not sure.  An alley somewhere.”  I replied.
     “How bad is it?”  He says.  “My head hurts like hell.  Probably bleeding.  Can’t think straight.”
     He was already dead when I woke up.  A young man – late twenties, early thirties.  A family, two parents and a daughter.  A modest home, far outside of poverty but nothing nice enough to brag about.  A picture lies shattered on the floor – broken glass covers the surface.  A vase lies in pieces in a nearby corner.  Signs of a struggle.  An overturned box of toys lies nearby.  Bloodied curtains flutter in the wind.
     “Do you have your medicine?”  My mind flashes in and out of reality.  I fish around in my pockets.
     “Yeah, it’s here.”  A medicine case – four slots, one empty.  Three tablets lie unconsumed.
    I pulled the knife out of his body, and his lifeless corpse tumbles over.  He had been dead for five, ten minutes, no more than that.  There was a fight, I can only assume.  With who, I don’t know.  I can’t think straight.  I couldn’t have.  How could I?  I didn’t kill him.  After all, I couldn’t have.  I’m only a child.  I would have gotten overpowered.  Neck snapped in two.  Skull smashed in with a hammer.  Head bashed against a wall a thousand times over, a thousand different ways I would have perished within the splicing instants of a second.  I couldn’t have.  I’m not a killer.  It’s impossible.  Inconceivable, even.  Beyond mortal comprehension, beyond the span of what reality would allow to exist.  Just the thought is absurd.
     “Do you want me to help you home?”  He says.  “I might be able to help if I’m nearby.”
     “Thank you.”  I said.  A hollow voice echoes from my throat.  Twitches of pain strike through my fainting heart, a horrible feeling with every beat.  Drops of sweat crawl down my face, mingling with the red flowing from my head.
     I peer out of the alleyway, my vision looks to the sky overhead.  “There’s a…large building somewhere in the distance.  Fifteen kilometers, at least.  Lots of lights.  Like the color of gold.”
     My head hurts.  Like the beating of a drum.  Like a herd of spiders crawling around inside my brain.  Torrents of blood pour from my fractured skull.  It’s painful, it hurts.  It can’t stop, it won’t stop.  I couldn’t stop it if I tried.  I want it to stop.  It would take a miracle to stop, it’s a miracle that I’m still alive.
     “Sorry…could you bring some first aid?  Bandages or something, maybe?”
     “Y-yeah.  I’ll see what I can do.  That tall building with all the lights, right?  Do you think you’ll make it there alright?”
     “I can manage for a while longer.”  I said, uncertainly.  Pain shoots across my body.  I’m lucky to still be standing.
     “Alright.  Be careful.”  He says.
 
     The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.  A brilliant flash of red and blue.  They arrived before I could understand what had happened.  I ran.  Out a second story-window, across the family’s backyard.  In to the alleyway before anyone could notice.  I was scared.  I didn’t want to die.  Even being locked up, in such a cold place – how is that any different than death?
     “Hanase?”  Satou continues speaking.  “What is it?”
     “So, um…I got some extra money for helping out with mom today.  Do you want to head out for ice cream tomorrow?”
     “I’m…not feeling too good now.  Not sure if I’ll make it.  Sorry.”
     “O-oh, alright, then.  Sorry for intruding.”  He says.  “Are you almost to the building?”
     “I’ll…be there.  Eventually.  I’m not moving as quickly as I thought I would.”
     “Alright, then.  I’ll see you later.”
     “Later.”

 
I feel like the dialogue is a bit more suited for VN format, but I'm unsure if it makes the flow feel off in standard novel format.  This can be useful information as well, so please let me know.

 

Aside from that, I have a small practice document I used to try and find the protagonist's voice.

 

     August 23^rd, 2011.  Thirty-one steps to the summer’s horizon.  A gentle breeze flows inside from the classroom window.  It’s cold, but warm.  Like the way an ice cube melts in your palm on a hot day.  Seventeen petals float in from the outside, landing softly onto a polished floor below.

     Keikan Elementary, 6^th grade, ages 12-13.  Room 36, on floor four out of seven.  A wooden floor clean to a polished shine, and colored flowers litter the walls.  The others are a little loud, playing through the time until class starts again.  A bit too much for my tastes.  It’s nice.  Like a faint pain in your chest.  One that reminds you you’re still alive.  One that brings a smile to your face.  Even if it hurts.

     I rest my head on the desk in front of me.  Hanase.  My name.  Female, ages 12-13.  Soft brown hair.  Eyes like a sparkling emerald, or so the others have said.  A faint wind cools the air around me, and my loose clothes flutters with its’ passing.  They’re a little big for me, actually.  A uniform, dark blue like cold steel.  A white shirt underneath with a red tie in front, a skirt reaching halfway below my knees.

     The sun shines brightly down from above.  Rays of light pierce through the classroom.  The air is too cold for this time of year; it chills me to the bone.  I’m tired.  It was a long night.  I’d rather not say why, if that’s alright with you.  A white cloth wraps across my chest, damp with a warm red, and a faint scratch is seen on my face.  Any less fortunate and I’d have come out a lot worse than I had.  A friend would say I’m lucky to be alive.  The others would rather I wasn’t.  Someone in the middle might take me out somewhere nice, before running off while I’m bashed into the dirt.

       They’re nice, most of them.  Usually at least.  Maybe out of respect or kindness.  Maybe they’d rather not where others could see.  Maybe they just don’t care.  It’s just one girl.  Insignificant at best.  Inhuman at worst.  It hurts.  But, it’s nice.  The pain reminds me that I’m still alive.  Reminding me that I still live.  There’s no meaning in running away like that.  Of course I wish it would stop.  Both here and everywhere else.

     Do you know what lurks here at night?  Not many people do.  It scares me.  By all rights, they shouldn’t even exist.  Crying and screaming like a broken child, thrashing about in a pool of blood under the crimson-painted moon.  A gaze to the eye would be enough to snap a mind in two.  For all intents and purposes, they might as well not be human.  Maybe they were, at one point.  But it’s a bad idea to think about those kinds of things.  Otherwise you might as well be dead by dawn.  A mental facility at best.  At worst, a shapeless corpse, an unrecognizable heap of flesh.

     It scares me.  Of course it does.  The fearless are dead by the week’s end.  Then again, so is everyone else.  Most of the time, at least.  I should be dead.  Some would prefer I were.  Most, even.  Insignificant at best, inhuman at worst.  It’s not like we can just run away.  It’s not like we choose to fight.  It’s the night that chooses us, more at stake than just our lives.  One life over a thousand, they say.  A single girl, a child, even, broken beyond repair before the night had even begun.  Damaged goods to be thrown away.  What worth does someone like that have to the world?  When everything people expect of you falls apart, and nothing remains but failure and regret. 

     Tell me.  What do you think?  Who are you, even?  What purpose do you have to live?  What right do you have to take comfort in merely existing when you can’t even keep yourself from falling apart?  Why are you strong enough to move forward despite that?  Why, after your heart and soul have been reduced to ashes, do you find the will to push further?  What is it that makes you strong, when the world around you screams time and time again that you should have died long ago?  When by all natural laws, you should have surrendered your being to specks of dust on the sidewalk, what is it that gives you the strength to keep going?

     I want to know.  I want to know what makes me strong.  I want to know why I keep living.  Night after night they come, again and again with no end in sight.  The punishing air, running thick as blood, breaking me down until nothing is left remaining.  Why, when everything falls apart, do I have the courage to keep going?  Why, among all that have died, am I still left standing?  How long have I fought?  Six months, maybe?  How many have died?  How many of them could have been friends?  How many more of them will have to die before me?  And after all that, I keep going forward.  Even to just make a simple existence on the edge of the world.  What is it that makes me strong?

 

 

It's less of a priority but it's good to have feedback on it anyway.

 

After feedback on these I'll get to the next scene.  The following one is a little longer but it's coming along more smoothly - feedback would be useful in the event I'm missing something important.

 

Let me know how it looks!

[Jade]

 

Aside from that, I have a small practice document I used to try and find the protagonist's voice.

 

     August 23^rd, 2011.  Thirty-one steps to the summer’s horizon.  A gentle breeze flows inside from the classroom window.  It’s cold, but warm.  Like the way an ice cube melts in your palm on a hot day.  Seventeen petals float in from the outside, landing softly onto a polished floor below.

     Keikan Elementary, 6^th grade, ages 12-13.  Room 36, on floor four out of seven.  A wooden floor clean to a polished shine, and colored flowers litter the walls.  The others are a little loud, playing through the time until class starts again.  A bit too much for my tastes.  It’s nice.  Like a faint pain in your chest.  One that reminds you you’re still alive.  One that brings a smile to your face.  Even if it hurts.

     I rest my head on the desk in front of me.  Hanase.  My name.  Female, ages 12-13.  Soft brown hair.  Eyes like a sparkling emerald, or so the others have said.  A faint wind cools the air around me, and my loose clothes flutters with its’ passing.  They’re a little big for me, actually.  A uniform, dark blue like cold steel.  A white shirt underneath with a red tie in front, a skirt reaching halfway below my knees.

     The sun shines brightly down from above.  Rays of light pierce through the classroom.  The air is too cold for this time of year; it chills me to the bone.  I’m tired.  It was a long night.  I’d rather not say why, if that’s alright with you.  A white cloth wraps across my chest, damp with a warm red, and a faint scratch is seen on my face.  Any less fortunate and I’d have come out a lot worse than I had.  A friend would say I’m lucky to be alive.  The others would rather I wasn’t.  Someone in the middle might take me out somewhere nice, before running off while I’m bashed into the dirt.

       They’re nice, most of them.  Usually at least.  Maybe out of respect or kindness.  Maybe they’d rather not where others could see.  Maybe they just don’t care.  It’s just one girl.  Insignificant at best.  Inhuman at worst.  It hurts.  But, it’s nice.  The pain reminds me that I’m still alive.  Reminding me that I still live.  There’s no meaning in running away like that.  Of course I wish it would stop.  Both here and everywhere else.

     Do you know what lurks here at night?  Not many people do.  It scares me.  By all rights, they shouldn’t even exist.  Crying and screaming like a broken child, thrashing about in a pool of blood under the crimson-painted moon.  A gaze to the eye would be enough to snap a mind in two.  For all intents and purposes, they might as well not be human.  Maybe they were, at one point.  But it’s a bad idea to think about those kinds of things.  Otherwise you might as well be dead by dawn.  A mental facility at best.  At worst, a shapeless corpse, an unrecognizable heap of flesh.

     It scares me.  Of course it does.  The fearless are dead by the week’s end.  Then again, so is everyone else.  Most of the time, at least.  I should be dead.  Some would prefer I were.  Most, even.  Insignificant at best, inhuman at worst.  It’s not like we can just run away.  It’s not like we choose to fight.  It’s the night that chooses us, more at stake than just our lives.  One life over a thousand, they say.  A single girl, a child, even, broken beyond repair before the night had even begun.  Damaged goods to be thrown away.  What worth does someone like that have to the world?  When everything people expect of you falls apart, and nothing remains but failure and regret. 

     Tell me.  What do you think?  Who are you, even?  What purpose do you have to live?  What right do you have to take comfort in merely existing when you can’t even keep yourself from falling apart?  Why are you strong enough to move forward despite that?  Why, after your heart and soul have been reduced to ashes, do you find the will to push further?  What is it that makes you strong, when the world around you screams time and time again that you should have died long ago?  When by all natural laws, you should have surrendered your being to specks of dust on the sidewalk, what is it that gives you the strength to keep going?

     I want to know.  I want to know what makes me strong.  I want to know why I keep living.  Night after night they come, again and again with no end in sight.  The punishing air, running thick as blood, breaking me down until nothing is left remaining.  Why, when everything falls apart, do I have the courage to keep going?  Why, among all that have died, am I still left standing?  How long have I fought?  Six months, maybe?  How many have died?  How many of them could have been friends?  How many more of them will have to die before me?  And after all that, I keep going forward.  Even to just make a simple existence on the edge of the world.  What is it that makes me strong?

 

 

It's less of a priority but it's good to have feedback on it anyway.

 

After feedback on these I'll get to the next scene.  The following one is a little longer but it's coming along more smoothly - feedback would be useful in the event I'm missing something important.

 

Let me know how it looks!

[Zodai]

Since it's an opinion it might be biased but for me first thing first there are just too many point (.) Personally for me that make it kind of hard too read, like the sentences isn't flowing but always pausing in between.

And secondly while the choice of word and idiom words are good and all i feel like this one have too much in it. While it may be easy for native reader to read, i find it a little hard to understand the meaning since there are too many contradiction, like' cold but warm' , 'It's a bit too much for my taste. It's nice'

....or maybe it's because my english that is lacking

Well that is my biased opinion after reading it~

 

Hm...alright.  Do we have any more?

[Wonderfullyevil]

 

As for this, the only advice I have is that I feel like it's good to try and push the voice and try to get feedback of what the overseer thinks.  Theoretically.

 

Alright, got internet at the new place!

Still a bit more moving stuff back and forth to do, though.

 

Anyway, I got a bunch of writing done on the way!  Got the fourth rewrite of that scene from earlier done, and it actually made it to the end this time around!

 

I'll be posting an additional scene for feedback later, but for now here's this one.

 

in the sky of a thousand stars.  It was raining until recently.  Ankle-deep puddles cover the alley, my torn clothes soaked in water and blood, like I’m drowning in a pool of ice.  2011, late August.  Thirty-something steps to the summer’s horizon.  Somewhere in Tokyo.  I’m not sure where.  A thick river of blood flows down my face, intense pain thumps at my head with every step.  Fragments of glass dig into my bare feet, littered across the ground, and tattered trash lies on the pavement in every direction.

     A mirror lies shattered by a wall.  A child’s face is reflected as I look – a young girl, 12 years old, 13 at most.  No older than a child.  Eyes like a shattered emerald.  A torrent of blood streaks down the right side of her face.  Her head looks like it was bashed into a wall.  A dark red blouse, ripped and torn and soaked to the bone – wet cloth sticks to her skin like a thirsty leech.  A brown skirt, like black snow, reaching halfway below the girl’s knees.

     Her eyes scare me – a vivid green broken and shattered.  Memories and hope crushed away into terror and dread.  Eyes like a shattered emerald.  A heart of the coldest steel.  She looks broken.  It makes me feel sick.

     I hear a ringing from the pocket of my skirt.

     “Hello, Hanase?”  I answer the call, and a young voice comes out the other end.  A boy, around my age.  A gentle sound.  Satou.  His name, or so the screen states.  “Um…Souna said you weren’t picking up.  I got worried.  Are you doing alright?  Are you hurt?”

     His voice is calming.  Uncertain, like a child.  Fumbling around his own words like an infant.  But, it’s kind.  A kind warmth contrasts the paralyzing cold.

     “I’ve…had better days, you could say.”

     “Where are you?”  “Not sure.  An alley somewhere.”  I replied.

     “How bad is it?”  He says.  “My head hurts like hell.  Probably bleeding.  Can’t think straight.”

     He was already dead when I woke up.  A young man – late twenties, early thirties.  A family, two parents and a daughter.  A modest home, far outside of poverty but nothing nice enough to brag about.  A picture lies shattered on the floor – broken glass covers the surface.  A vase lies in pieces in a nearby corner.  Signs of a struggle.  An overturned box of toys lies nearby.  Bloodied curtains flutter in the wind.

     “Do you have your medicine?”  My mind flashes in and out of reality.  I fish around in my pockets.

     “Yeah, it’s here.”  A medicine case – four slots, one empty.  Three tablets lie unconsumed.

    I pulled the knife out of his body, and his lifeless corpse tumbles over.  He had been dead for five, ten minutes, no more than that.  There was a fight, I can only assume.  With who, I don’t know.  I can’t think straight.  I couldn’t have.  How could I?  I didn’t kill him.  After all, I couldn’t have.  I’m only a child.  I would have gotten overpowered.  Neck snapped in two.  Skull smashed in with a hammer.  Head bashed against a wall a thousand times over, a thousand different ways I would have perished within the splicing instants of a second.  I couldn’t have.  I’m not a killer.  It’s impossible.  Inconceivable, even.  Beyond mortal comprehension, beyond the span of what reality would allow to exist.  Just the thought is absurd.

     “Do you want me to help you home?”  He says.  “I might be able to help if I’m nearby.”

     “Thank you.”  I said.  A hollow voice echoes from my throat.  Twitches of pain strike through my fainting heart, a horrible feeling with every beat.  Drops of sweat crawl down my face, mingling with the red flowing from my head.

     I peer out of the alleyway, my vision looks to the sky overhead.  “There’s a…large building somewhere in the distance.  Fifteen kilometers, at least.  Lots of lights.  Like the color of gold.”

     My head hurts.  Like the beating of a drum.  Like a herd of spiders crawling around inside my brain.  Torrents of blood pour from my fractured skull.  It’s painful, it hurts.  It can’t stop, it won’t stop.  I couldn’t stop it if I tried.  I want it to stop.  It would take a miracle to stop, it’s a miracle that I’m still alive.

     “Sorry…could you bring some first aid?  Bandages or something, maybe?”

     “Y-yeah.  I’ll see what I can do.  That tall building with all the lights, right?  Do you think you’ll make it there alright?”

     “I can manage for a while longer.”  I said, uncertainly.  Pain shoots across my body.  I’m lucky to still be standing.

     “Alright.  Be careful.”  He says.

 

     The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.  A brilliant flash of red and blue.  They arrived before I could understand what had happened.  I ran.  Out a second story-window, across the family’s backyard.  In to the alleyway before anyone could notice.  I was scared.  I didn’t want to die.  Even being locked up, in such a cold place – how is that any different than death?

     “Hanase?”  Satou continues speaking.  “What is it?”

     “So, um…I got some extra money for helping out with mom today.  Do you want to head out for ice cream tomorrow?”

     “I’m…not feeling too good now.  Not sure if I’ll make it.  Sorry.”

     “O-oh, alright, then.  Sorry for intruding.”  He says.  “Are you almost to the building?”

     “I’ll…be there.  Eventually.  I’m not moving as quickly as I thought I would.”

     “Alright, then.  I’ll see you later.”

     “Later.”

 

I feel like the dialogue is a bit more suited for VN format, but I'm unsure if it makes the flow feel off in standard novel format.  This can be useful information as well, so please let me know.

 

Aside from that, I have a small practice document I used to try and find the protagonist's voice.

 

     August 23^rd, 2011.  Thirty-one steps to the summer’s horizon.  A gentle breeze flows inside from the classroom window.  It’s cold, but warm.  Like the way an ice cube melts in your palm on a hot day.  Seventeen petals float in from the outside, landing softly onto a polished floor below.

     Keikan Elementary, 6^th grade, ages 12-13.  Room 36, on floor four out of seven.  A wooden floor clean to a polished shine, and colored flowers litter the walls.  The others are a little loud, playing through the time until class starts again.  A bit too much for my tastes.  It’s nice.  Like a faint pain in your chest.  One that reminds you you’re still alive.  One that brings a smile to your face.  Even if it hurts.

     I rest my head on the desk in front of me.  Hanase.  My name.  Female, ages 12-13.  Soft brown hair.  Eyes like a sparkling emerald, or so the others have said.  A faint wind cools the air around me, and my loose clothes flutters with its’ passing.  They’re a little big for me, actually.  A uniform, dark blue like cold steel.  A white shirt underneath with a red tie in front, a skirt reaching halfway below my knees.

     The sun shines brightly down from above.  Rays of light pierce through the classroom.  The air is too cold for this time of year; it chills me to the bone.  I’m tired.  It was a long night.  I’d rather not say why, if that’s alright with you.  A white cloth wraps across my chest, damp with a warm red, and a faint scratch is seen on my face.  Any less fortunate and I’d have come out a lot worse than I had.  A friend would say I’m lucky to be alive.  The others would rather I wasn’t.  Someone in the middle might take me out somewhere nice, before running off while I’m bashed into the dirt.

       They’re nice, most of them.  Usually at least.  Maybe out of respect or kindness.  Maybe they’d rather not where others could see.  Maybe they just don’t care.  It’s just one girl.  Insignificant at best.  Inhuman at worst.  It hurts.  But, it’s nice.  The pain reminds me that I’m still alive.  Reminding me that I still live.  There’s no meaning in running away like that.  Of course I wish it would stop.  Both here and everywhere else.

     Do you know what lurks here at night?  Not many people do.  It scares me.  By all rights, they shouldn’t even exist.  Crying and screaming like a broken child, thrashing about in a pool of blood under the crimson-painted moon.  A gaze to the eye would be enough to snap a mind in two.  For all intents and purposes, they might as well not be human.  Maybe they were, at one point.  But it’s a bad idea to think about those kinds of things.  Otherwise you might as well be dead by dawn.  A mental facility at best.  At worst, a shapeless corpse, an unrecognizable heap of flesh.

     It scares me.  Of course it does.  The fearless are dead by the week’s end.  Then again, so is everyone else.  Most of the time, at least.  I should be dead.  Some would prefer I were.  Most, even.  Insignificant at best, inhuman at worst.  It’s not like we can just run away.  It’s not like we choose to fight.  It’s the night that chooses us, more at stake than just our lives.  One life over a thousand, they say.  A single girl, a child, even, broken beyond repair before the night had even begun.  Damaged goods to be thrown away.  What worth does someone like that have to the world?  When everything people expect of you falls apart, and nothing remains but failure and regret. 

     Tell me.  What do you think?  Who are you, even?  What purpose do you have to live?  What right do you have to take comfort in merely existing when you can’t even keep yourself from falling apart?  Why are you strong enough to move forward despite that?  Why, after your heart and soul have been reduced to ashes, do you find the will to push further?  What is it that makes you strong, when the world around you screams time and time again that you should have died long ago?  When by all natural laws, you should have surrendered your being to specks of dust on the sidewalk, what is it that gives you the strength to keep going?

     I want to know.  I want to know what makes me strong.  I want to know why I keep living.  Night after night they come, again and again with no end in sight.  The punishing air, running thick as blood, breaking me down until nothing is left remaining.  Why, when everything falls apart, do I have the courage to keep going?  Why, among all that have died, am I still left standing?  How long have I fought?  Six months, maybe?  How many have died?  How many of them could have been friends?  How many more of them will have to die before me?  And after all that, I keep going forward.  Even to just make a simple existence on the edge of the world.  What is it that makes me strong?

 

[Zodai]

 

. Also, your first sentence lacks proper capitalization. (I'm sorry, but it was the FIRST SENTENCE!)

 

Oh, shit.  I think I mis-copied it from the draft ><;;

 

"     The shining moon bears down from above.  And unparalleled brightness, full of life and death, hangs in the sky of a thousand stars."

 

Think that's how it's supposed to actually be.  Apologies, must have been tired at the time ><;;

[Nomad]

O HAI, first time poster, long time VN/Writing enthusiast (and lurker on these here forums).

 

Today ladies, gentlemen and cat folk I humbly ask you to take a quick read of the prologue for a novel I have started writing tentatively called phalanx. My aim with phalanx is to create a world which contains realistic levels of Sci-Fi aswell as deep character arcs and interaction that will appeal to audiences of all kinds and just generally be a world anyone can get lost in when they feel the need to send their brain somewhere else.

 

Direct post to the prologue (2887 words): https://docs.google.com/document/d/1KSke3ninS94bG76gZAL560UrX7qFUqkSXtmxcG4K_fQ/edit?usp=sharing

 

Link to my new tumblr with a small FAQ aswell as the prologue link again: http://phalanxsocial.tumblr.com/

 

Welcoming any and all feedback, preferably in english or Nyan's.

[Jade]

Welp, after a few tweaks here and there i finally finish this.

A word of caution to anyone that dares to read this though: Prepare for bad grammar and awkward sentences 

The chain binding his hand and legs

The uncomfortable itch in his back and head

And the cold and dark corridor by which the man walk ever so slowly

 

Well…..now that he think about it, the dark part is probably because of the cloth that cover his eyes.

 

For all he knows this corridor he walks could probably be painted with rainbow and other bright colors, maybe even with the picture of unicorn and rainbow in its wall

 

Of course the man highly doubt that this is the case though,
Why you ask?
Why it’s because he’s on his way to the execution room of course! And while the probability of it having some colorful wall and pretty picture of animal is not completely zero he’s still think that the corridor he walked have some sort of dark and creepy aura in it
After all, what use is bright and colorful thing for someone who is about to die?
Well…….plenty of thing now that he think about it. For example-

 

“Walk faster you bastard!”
A not so gentle shove hit me in the back, almost making me stumble and lost my footing. Thanks to the chain and my awesome sense of balance though, I regain my balance just as quickly as I lost it

 

Now that just rude. What kind of uncivilized people disturb other monologue anyway?
Turning my head to the barbarian who doesn’t know manner, I give him my best ‘ I-disapprove-of-your-uncivilized-manner-stare’.
This, what with my eyes being covered by the black cloth that effectively prevent my eyes to be seen by other I presume would not have that much effect on the uncivilized guy who just shoved me

 

“Rude? Fucking rich coming from a Psychopathic Bastard like you”

 

So the man say…..wait, just how did he know what I’m thinking? Could it be that instead of thinking it, I actually spoke my last though out loud?

 

“Psychopathic? I do hope that you are not referring to me good sire “ I replied indignantly
“Who else do yo-“ Before the barbarian manage to finish whatever his uncivilized mouth want to say though, another voice not far from him makes it presence known

 

“Be silent”

 

A cold voice, colder than even this corridor I walked. The sheer coldness of the firm voice more than enough to make the barbarian’s word died on his mouth. Of course, this voice that carries coldness surpassing even the cold ice itself is a voice that I happen to be very familiar with.
Thus, I let out smile as I turn to greet the owner of the voice

 

“Ah, my dear Freya! It’s so nice to hear your lovely voice among this bunch of barbarians!” Different from how I talk at these barbarians, my voice is practically beaming with joy as I greet the lovely and cold voice that I knew all too well
“ I assure you the feeling is not mutual, master” The voice belongs to a woman named Freya replied with almost emotionless tone in it, not even a slightest bit of emotion can be found from her
Of course, for someone who have known her as long as I am, I can easily detect even her emotionless voice

 

“Ah lovely Freya, still being…..what it is called? A ‘tsundere’ ?” I replied with a slight laugh. If Freya is in anyway bothered by my answer, she doesn’t show it.
Although I can’t see her right now with my eye being covered and all, I can easily imagine Freya beautiful form even with my eyes closed. Naturally, she would still be wearing her business suit like some kind of mafia from those video games that show none of those voluptuous breasts of her, truly a shame really.

 

Next, she probably still keeps her long black hair in a ponytail, a fact that always amuses me to no end. After all those, long hair of hers is no doubt a source of endless problem especially in her profession and yet she stubbornly kept it anyway.

 

Then again, with her current skill, even if it’s a hindrance I doubt it will affect her.
Uncaring of the norm, uncaring of the danger and doing as she pleases.
Truly, Freya is my most precious apprentice

 

“We already behind the schedule. Could you all hurry up?” Freya told them , voice still as cold as ever she turn her back and started walking leaving me and the terrified guards behind her
“Ah dear beautiful Freya, she never change”
Laughing once again, I begin to leisure walk, following her lovely figure from behind leaving those barbarian brute behind me
How did I able to follow someone while being blindfolded you say?
It’s easy of course, it’s because I’m just that awesome!
….that and the corridor is a very clear straightway path

.

.

.

.

 

“-For your crimes against humanity we sentences to death. May the God and-“

Boring, boring, and-

“-Thus with the infinite mercy of-“
- Yep, still boring.

 

Really now, why are they so fond of these overly long speech ? It’s not as if I going to repent anyway, so they might just killed me already lest the boredom take my life first
Currently I am sitting on some sort of chair with what appear to be helmet on my head. I would love to get a closer look at it, but seeing both of my hands and legs are currently bind to the chair I hardly can do that can’t I?
…..well, okay that is a lie.

 

Thankfully, though my eyes are no longer blindfolded so at the very least I can let my eyes wander around the room,
There are quite a lot of people in this execution room now that I gets a proper look of it.

 

There’s Freya, my lovely apprentice standing all alone in the corner of the room. She’s not that different from what I imagine, the only difference is that she let loose her hair for once, which makes her even more beautiful.
Then there are those barbarian guards. As I hardly fond of them, let’s move to other people shall we?
A Leader of a Country
The Boss of criminal organization
Head of world security
The Leader of major religion
Even a wanted terrorist
Every kind of important people seems to gather here just to watch my execution

 

Really this people, don’t they have anything to do besides watching a man get fried on a chair?
Grumbles all I want though, I kind of understand why so many people is here to watch my death.
After all, I AM the world’s worst criminal, the so called ‘World’s greatest mistake’
……I kind of proud of that title to be honest

 

“-and now, we will commence the execution. Arsene Valdus , do you have any last word?”
Ah, it’s finally ended! And they finally called his name too!

 

‘So, last word huh? Hmmmmm………’ The man, who apparently named Valdus seems to be in deep though for a moment, wondering what is good to be his last world in this world
Then, an idea appear in my head
‘Ah, I know!’

 

(Change of POV)

 

“Freya-“
As Valdus called her name, her apprentice only moves her head ever so slightly. Only the most observant people would notice it
Which coincidentally, is what the man happen to be
All that present in the room held their breath, wondering what could possibly be the last world of the ‘World’s greatest mistake’ to his apprentice

 

While they know that the monster’s apprentice is on their side, they still afraid of the possibility of her betraying them and helping her master escape. A highly unlikely possibility, seeing that it was due to her in the first place that makes it possible to catch and keep that monster at bay
But it was a possibility nonetheless

 

“-be a dear and deal with those uncivilized barbarian after I die will you?”
With that last word, Freya freezes for a second, before she let out a small nod and going back to her previous stoic self not letting any emotion surface on that beautiful face again
Everyone in the room let out the breath they are holding. It seems that their worst fear did not come true. While the word ‘Deal with’ sounds ominous, it seems that the target of the monster’s ire is not them
While everyone in the room is relieved though, the guards that escort the man suddenly turn pale.
But who cares about some guards?

 

“Is that your last word?”
The voice speaks again, Valdus though already ignored the voice preferring to enjoy the his last moment with eyes closed while humming a tune
Seeing that he will not get any response, the voice turn into silence, and begin signaling for the execution
Electricity begin to power up the chair and the helmet thing above his head
But the monster continue to hum, uncaring of the inevitable death that will come to him

 

A hum so peaceful and beautiful, like the sounds of gentle winds blowing the grass
So quiet and serene
It was a truly bizarre sigh, an unfitting sight for the one whom they called Monster
One moment the hum is echoing throughout the room and the next-

 

*BZZTTT*
-The sounds of something being electrocuted echoes throughout the room, replacing the beautiful humming that previously here
Such a quick death, an anticlimactic end that not everyone in the room could believe
And so the silence in the room continue,
No one dares to makes a sound, fearing that the monster might wake up again
“…He’s dead, all vital are down. It’s confirmed, Arsene Valdus also known as ‘World’s greatest mistake’ is dead”
With that, ever so slowly voices begin to fill up the room.
Some let out a sigh of relief
Some shout out in joy, congratulating one another for job well done
Another let out a laugh, rejoicing in the fact that a monster is finally dead
A Saint embracing a Sinner, Old enemies toasting drink together,
Once the news has traveled, there is no doubt that the whole world will rejoice in happiness, even going as far as marking this days as a historical event, the day where finally The ‘World’s greatest mistake’ is dead

 

And yet-

 

And yet among these joyful and laughter, one woman stood in stoic silence. Her blue eyes gazing at the dead body of The World’s greatest mistake not with joy or even relief, just its usual stoic and indifference stares
Ever so slowly, she turns her head from the corpse, making sure to burn every single thing of his image on her memory and not forgetting even a single strait of his hair
It was weird really, now that she thinks about it
Her master is always smiling, but it’s usually the kind of smile that hides secret and plans behind them
Yet this time, his master smile seemed so peaceful and serene. As if he’s satisfied with his life and has nothing to regret
Perhaps……perhaps he really is. Either way she will never knew
Finally turning her back at her master’s corpse, Freya slithers back into the shadows, away from any eyes and undetected by all that present in the room
She has no time for grieving and all that. After all, Freya still has a job to do. One last order from her dear beloved Master

 

And so Freya is gone from the room, leaving no evidence or even a proof that she is even here…..save for a single tears that manage to escape her eyes
Not long after the death of The Monster, two corpse of man is found floating in the lake
Their head are smashed, limbs cut off, face mangled beyond recognition
It was a truly horrid sight
As to who they are it still wasn’t known, identification will take times considering how little of their remain actually exist
Strangely though, the two guard that escort The Monster is currently missing with no sign of appearance anywhere in this earth not even the government know where they are
As to what happen to Freya, her body is found dead an hour after her master execution. The cause of dead is electrocution, the same as her master.
Thus end the tale of Arsene Valdus , The Greatest mistake the world ever produce and the worst criminal that ever live in history of mankind
.
.
.
.
“Oh look, he’s waking up!”
A binding light that’s too bright for his eyes, the face of a human that’s too big to be normal
“Look look! He’s finally open his eyes!”
The baby opens his little eyes, and let out an innocent smile
The World’s greatest mistake is born once more

[mjriedstra]

Welp, after a few tweaks here and there i finally finish this.

A word of caution to anyone that dares to read this though: Prepare for bad grammar and awkward sentences 

 

Hi Jade. That was an interesting read. It's true that the grammar and structure needs some work, but it was enough to make me curious. Is this intended to be a book, or text for a visual novel?

 

The very last line was great. Before even deciding to read the whole thing, I skimmed it and that was the line that caught me.

[Jade]

Hi Jade. That was an interesting read. It's true that the grammar and structure needs some work, but it was enough to make me curious. Is this intended to be a book, or text for a visual novel?

 

The very last line was great. Before even deciding to read the whole thing, I skimmed it and that was the line that caught me.

[Wonderfullyevil]

Welp, after a few tweaks here and there i finally finish this.

A word of caution to anyone that dares to read this though: Prepare for bad grammar and awkward sentences 

The chain binding his hand and legs

The uncomfortable itch in his back and head

And the cold and dark corridor by which the man walk ever so slowly

 

Well…..now that he think about it, the dark part is probably because of the cloth that cover his eyes.

 

For all he knows this corridor he walks could probably be painted with rainbow and other bright colors, maybe even with the picture of unicorn and rainbow in its wall

 

Of course the man highly doubt that this is the case though,

Why you ask?

Why it’s because he’s on his way to the execution room of course! And while the probability of it having some colorful wall and pretty picture of animal is not completely zero he’s still think that the corridor he walked have some sort of dark and creepy aura in it

After all, what use is bright and colorful thing for someone who is about to die?

Well…….plenty of thing now that he think about it. For example-

 

“Walk faster you bastard!”

A not so gentle shove hit me in the back, almost making me stumble and lost my footing. Thanks to the chain and my awesome sense of balance though, I regain my balance just as quickly as I lost it

 

Now that just rude. What kind of uncivilized people disturb other monologue anyway?

Turning my head to the barbarian who doesn’t know manner, I give him my best ‘ I-disapprove-of-your-uncivilized-manner-stare’.

This, what with my eyes being covered by the black cloth that effectively prevent my eyes to be seen by other I presume would not have that much effect on the uncivilized guy who just shoved me

 

“Rude? Fucking rich coming from a Psychopathic Bastard like you”

 

So the man say…..wait, just how did he know what I’m thinking? Could it be that instead of thinking it, I actually spoke my last though out loud?

 

“Psychopathic? I do hope that you are not referring to me good sire “ I replied indignantly

“Who else do yo-“ Before the barbarian manage to finish whatever his uncivilized mouth want to say though, another voice not far from him makes it presence known

 

“Be silent”

 

A cold voice, colder than even this corridor I walked. The sheer coldness of the firm voice more than enough to make the barbarian’s word died on his mouth. Of course, this voice that carries coldness surpassing even the cold ice itself is a voice that I happen to be very familiar with.

Thus, I let out smile as I turn to greet the owner of the voice

 

“Ah, my dear Freya! It’s so nice to hear your lovely voice among this bunch of barbarians!” Different from how I talk at these barbarians, my voice is practically beaming with joy as I greet the lovely and cold voice that I knew all too well

“ I assure you the feeling is not mutual, master” The voice belongs to a woman named Freya replied with almost emotionless tone in it, not even a slightest bit of emotion can be found from her

Of course, for someone who have known her as long as I am, I can easily detect even her emotionless voice

 

“Ah lovely Freya, still being…..what it is called? A ‘tsundere’ ?” I replied with a slight laugh. If Freya is in anyway bothered by my answer, she doesn’t show it.

Although I can’t see her right now with my eye being covered and all, I can easily imagine Freya beautiful form even with my eyes closed. Naturally, she would still be wearing her business suit like some kind of mafia from those video games that show none of those voluptuous breasts of her, truly a shame really.

 

Next, she probably still keeps her long black hair in a ponytail, a fact that always amuses me to no end. After all those, long hair of hers is no doubt a source of endless problem especially in her profession and yet she stubbornly kept it anyway.

 

Then again, with her current skill, even if it’s a hindrance I doubt it will affect her.

Uncaring of the norm, uncaring of the danger and doing as she pleases.

Truly, Freya is my most precious apprentice

 

“We already behind the schedule. Could you all hurry up?” Freya told them , voice still as cold as ever she turn her back and started walking leaving me and the terrified guards behind her

“Ah dear beautiful Freya, she never change”

Laughing once again, I begin to leisure walk, following her lovely figure from behind leaving those barbarian brute behind me

How did I able to follow someone while being blindfolded you say?

It’s easy of course, it’s because I’m just that awesome!

….that and the corridor is a very clear straightway path

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“-For your crimes against humanity we sentences to death. May the God and-“

Boring, boring, and-

“-Thus with the infinite mercy of-“

- Yep, still boring.

 

Really now, why are they so fond of these overly long speech ? It’s not as if I going to repent anyway, so they might just killed me already lest the boredom take my life first

Currently I am sitting on some sort of chair with what appear to be helmet on my head. I would love to get a closer look at it, but seeing both of my hands and legs are currently bind to the chair I hardly can do that can’t I?

…..well, okay that is a lie.

 

Thankfully, though my eyes are no longer blindfolded so at the very least I can let my eyes wander around the room,

There are quite a lot of people in this execution room now that I gets a proper look of it.

 

There’s Freya, my lovely apprentice standing all alone in the corner of the room. She’s not that different from what I imagine, the only difference is that she let loose her hair for once, which makes her even more beautiful.

Then there are those barbarian guards. As I hardly fond of them, let’s move to other people shall we?

A Leader of a Country

The Boss of criminal organization

Head of world security

The Leader of major religion

Even a wanted terrorist

Every kind of important people seems to gather here just to watch my execution

 

Really this people, don’t they have anything to do besides watching a man get fried on a chair?

Grumbles all I want though, I kind of understand why so many people is here to watch my death.

After all, I AM the world’s worst criminal, the so called ‘World’s greatest mistake’

……I kind of proud of that title to be honest

 

“-and now, we will commence the execution. Arsene Valdus , do you have any last word?”

Ah, it’s finally ended! And they finally called his name too!

 

‘So, last word huh? Hmmmmm………’ The man, who apparently named Valdus seems to be in deep though for a moment, wondering what is good to be his last world in this world

Then, an idea appear in my head

‘Ah, I know!’

 

(Change of POV)

 

“Freya-“

As Valdus called her name, her apprentice only moves her head ever so slightly. Only the most observant people would notice it

Which coincidentally, is what the man happen to be

All that present in the room held their breath, wondering what could possibly be the last world of the ‘World’s greatest mistake’ to his apprentice

 

While they know that the monster’s apprentice is on their side, they still afraid of the possibility of her betraying them and helping her master escape. A highly unlikely possibility, seeing that it was due to her in the first place that makes it possible to catch and keep that monster at bay

But it was a possibility nonetheless

 

“-be a dear and deal with those uncivilized barbarian after I die will you?”

With that last word, Freya freezes for a second, before she let out a small nod and going back to her previous stoic self not letting any emotion surface on that beautiful face again

Everyone in the room let out the breath they are holding. It seems that their worst fear did not come true. While the word ‘Deal with’ sounds ominous, it seems that the target of the monster’s ire is not them

While everyone in the room is relieved though, the guards that escort the man suddenly turn pale.

But who cares about some guards?

 

“Is that your last word?”

The voice speaks again, Valdus though already ignored the voice preferring to enjoy the his last moment with eyes closed while humming a tune

Seeing that he will not get any response, the voice turn into silence, and begin signaling for the execution

Electricity begin to power up the chair and the helmet thing above his head

But the monster continue to hum, uncaring of the inevitable death that will come to him

 

A hum so peaceful and beautiful, like the sounds of gentle winds blowing the grass

So quiet and serene

It was a truly bizarre sigh, an unfitting sight for the one whom they called Monster

One moment the hum is echoing throughout the room and the next-

 

*BZZTTT*

-The sounds of something being electrocuted echoes throughout the room, replacing the beautiful humming that previously here

Such a quick death, an anticlimactic end that not everyone in the room could believe

And so the silence in the room continue,

No one dares to makes a sound, fearing that the monster might wake up again

“…He’s dead, all vital are down. It’s confirmed, Arsene Valdus also known as ‘World’s greatest mistake’ is dead”

With that, ever so slowly voices begin to fill up the room.

Some let out a sigh of relief

Some shout out in joy, congratulating one another for job well done

Another let out a laugh, rejoicing in the fact that a monster is finally dead

A Saint embracing a Sinner, Old enemies toasting drink together,

Once the news has traveled, there is no doubt that the whole world will rejoice in happiness, even going as far as marking this days as a historical event, the day where finally The ‘World’s greatest mistake’ is dead

 

And yet-

 

And yet among these joyful and laughter, one woman stood in stoic silence. Her blue eyes gazing at the dead body of The World’s greatest mistake not with joy or even relief, just its usual stoic and indifference stares

Ever so slowly, she turns her head from the corpse, making sure to burn every single thing of his image on her memory and not forgetting even a single strait of his hair

It was weird really, now that she thinks about it

Her master is always smiling, but it’s usually the kind of smile that hides secret and plans behind them

Yet this time, his master smile seemed so peaceful and serene. As if he’s satisfied with his life and has nothing to regret

Perhaps……perhaps he really is. Either way she will never knew

Finally turning her back at her master’s corpse, Freya slithers back into the shadows, away from any eyes and undetected by all that present in the room

She has no time for grieving and all that. After all, Freya still has a job to do. One last order from her dear beloved Master

 

And so Freya is gone from the room, leaving no evidence or even a proof that she is even here…..save for a single tears that manage to escape her eyes

Not long after the death of The Monster, two corpse of man is found floating in the lake

Their head are smashed, limbs cut off, face mangled beyond recognition

It was a truly horrid sight

As to who they are it still wasn’t known, identification will take times considering how little of their remain actually exist

Strangely though, the two guard that escort The Monster is currently missing with no sign of appearance anywhere in this earth not even the government know where they are

As to what happen to Freya, her body is found dead an hour after her master execution. The cause of dead is electrocution, the same as her master.

Thus end the tale of Arsene Valdus , The Greatest mistake the world ever produce and the worst criminal that ever live in history of mankind

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“Oh look, he’s waking up!”

A binding light that’s too bright for his eyes, the face of a human that’s too big to be normal

“Look look! He’s finally open his eyes!”

The baby opens his little eyes, and let out an innocent smile

The World’s greatest mistake is born once more

It's a fun story, but I had trouble reading it due to the problems you yourself mentioned. Thanks for sharing. Hope you polish your English as there's potential here.

 

As for me, I've been getting into poetry a lot lately. I'll leave one of my poems over here.

Far

 

“Welcome! To the Garden of Dreams,”

The Gardener said. “You’ll find every

Flower ever seen!” She said with eyes a shining gleam.

True to the name, even the sky was in a reverie.

 

A Sunflower here, and even flowers phantasmal

From ones reaching the sky, to ones possibly miasmal

They dance madly with petals fluttering

Aloof, yet in synch, some magnificent entertaining

 

“Do you enjoy them? We’re all in full bloom!”

“Of course I do! I’ll never wish this doom.”

“If true, no picking,” the gardener said.

“They are all beautiful, so without one there will be quite a dread.”

 

I laugh in jest. Accompanied by a momentary silence

Dim lights everywhere, a small filling

A breeze blows sweetly, the wave lulling

It smells like candy, creating a romantic ambiance

 

I look at the gardener askance, and ask, “Who are you?”

“I am Daisy, tender of these kids. Now I return the question to you.”

“I am a mere dreamer, waking up in the middle of dew.”

“I know, as matter of course. I make sure to tend to you too.”

 

“Are you all right?” She asked with a tender smile.

“Yes, nothing could be better,” I say with no spite

Daisy merely falls, out of weary and awareness of the futile

Yet all the while, she was wearing her smile undefiled

 

“Thank you for all,” I say to never exit

But it’s mere farce, as I now feel pathetic

Now I look up at the sky, and as the stars blot

I pick up a Lacrima, sending it to the sky oh-so-far.