Jump to content

Show off your Writing!


Recommended Posts

I really did write all my plans uncalled for, eh? It was useful to concretely note my plans down anyway, given how I keep changing them.

 

So, after reading my about me page which mentions I'm Portuguese about 30 times you go into my YouTube and can't figure out where my accent is from? I see... Makes sense.

 

As for your story:

I had no issues reading and no problems understanding it. The main character engaged me enough for me to proceed and read until the end.

 

The main character seems to be rather powerful, couldn't understand if she was just that good or has some kind of unfair advantage. She apparently breaks stuff out of fury. She's somewhat careless, perhaps due to overconfidence on not ever feeling threatened? Is her dominant had something special? Actually, which is the dominant hand? She understood the spies and she has some kind of secret. Is she even Polish?

 

Edit: She tried to hide she was fighting, why was this?

 

The or-tever guy was mentioned a couple of times. Couldn't really understand his role but he was actually even more dangerous than the protagonist.

 

The military boss guy was the only other named character and he has no real personality from what I gathered.

 

Note: You spelled "upperhand" differently the two times you wrote it. "upperhand" and "upper hand".

 

Edit: You don't actually need to straight up answer the questions ;P

I couldn't place your accent because, for whatever reason, it reminds me of the British accent, but at the same time seemed different, which is why I was curious.

 

I've got a couple ideas in mind as how she's so strong. None of which will be revealed just yet. And yes, she is very overconfident. Her dominant hand (right) has more power behind it. You'll notice that I specify which hand she uses almost every time she uses them. I never specified that she understood the spies. Only that she was able to tell.

 

She tries to avoid scrutiny as much as possible, she'd rather hide bodies/place blame elsewhere, rather than answer questions as to why she killed the two in the forest/branded the two outside her living quarters as spies without justification. And yes, there is a reason for nearly all of her actions thus far. They just aren't apparent, and hopefully won't be for a while. :P

 

Well, sanahtlig, whom I had a conversation with about my story in this thread, had said he was the antagonist. Would you agree or disagree?

 

How should I rectify that problem? What should I add to his character to make him more in depth regarding his personality?

 

I spelled them differently? Well, crap. I'll fix it shortly.

 

And yes, I'm being intentionally vague. Hopefully you enjoyed what you read.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Who doesn't love red text? :D

I couldn't place your accent because, for whatever reason, it reminds me of the British accent, but at the same time seemed different, which is why I was curious.

I suppose. If I were to try and only speak carefully trained sentences I could probably pass off as British. Otherwise I probably come off as some kind of immigrant from god knows where.

I've got a couple ideas in mind as how she's so strong. None of which will be revealed just yet. And yes, she is very overconfident. Her dominant hand (right) has more power behind it. You'll notice that I specify which hand she uses almost every time she uses them. I never specified that she understood the spies. Only that she was able to tell.

Yep, I guess I was tired yesterday night. It clearly states she cracks a wall using nothing but her right hand.

So by hearing German one would assume they were spies, something like that?  Furthermore, she woke up to whispers? This is something I noted yesterday but forgot to ask about.

She tries to avoid scrutiny as much as possible, she'd rather hide bodies/place blame elsewhere, rather than answer questions as to why she killed the two in the forest/branded the two outside her living quarters as spies without justification. And yes, there is a reason for nearly all of her actions thus far. They just aren't apparent, and hopefully won't be for a while. :P

This one's just obvious. I must've been really tired. I guess her paranoia with looking spiffing after the fight in the forest intrigued me. She always goes and gets frustrated over her careless mistakes.

Well, sanahtlig, whom I had a conversation with about my story in this thread, had said he was the antagonist. Would you agree or disagree?

Well, he certainly opposed the protagonist there at the end, but said protagonist isn't exactly likable. For all he said, all he did was self-defence using what appear to be very powerful attacks.

I would brand him as another powerhouse with his own motives and intentions, but not exactly an antagonist for now. 

How should I rectify that problem? What should I add to his character to make him more in depth regarding his personality?

I didn't mean it was a problem exactly... He just played his part like, did he have any unnatural reactions over his exchanges? Not really, he just did what you could consider normal and that's not bad. I really don't know how to help here or if it even needs helping. 

Vladislava obviously has a personality, and Ostromir had that huge change that overshadowed any previous blandness. If he didn't have that change the only thing that does anything for his personality from my amateurish point of view is how he was all happy about noticing Vladislava had been hunting.

I spelled them differently? Well, crap. I'll fix it shortly.

 

And yes, I'm being intentionally vague. Hopefully you enjoyed what you read.

Aye, aye.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Red text certainly made that more interesting.

 

For clarification's sake, were you responding to the question of personality for the commanding officer or Ostromir?

 

Also, why did the red text stop halfway through?

I forgot it did that. For some reason, every time I colour text inside a quote is stops halfway through. I'll go and fix it though you probably can tell what is mine or not.

 

And I was responding by stating being normal didn't seem like a bad thing for the CO, and showed an example of what seemed to be an unnatural reaction which forms a personality with Ostromir.

Link to post
Share on other sites

I forgot it did that. For some reason, every time I colour text inside a quote is stops halfway through. I'll go and fix it though you probably can tell what is mine or not.

 

And I was responding by stating being normal didn't seem like a bad thing for the CO, and showed an example of what seemed to be an unnatural reaction which forms a personality with Ostromir.

How was it an unnatural reaction? And what was he reacting to?

 

Also, I hate it when I accidentally press Back and lose everything because the auto save doesn't load what I was writing.

Link to post
Share on other sites

How was it an unnatural reaction? And what was he reacting to?

Please note the fallacy in translation here. Unnatural has a different connotation in Portuguese. 

 

What I basically mean is that Ostromir being delighted at noticing Vladimir had fought struck me as something I remembered for the rest of the reading. This is strictly subjective, of course, but it became one of those pieces of information that formed what I perceive as Ostromir's personality.

 

Edit: If you press "More Reply Options" I believe the autosave feature works as intended.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Please note the fallacy in translation here. Unnatural has a different connotation in Portuguese. 

 

What I basically mean is that Ostromir being delighted at noticing Vladimir had fought struck me as something I remembered for the rest of the reading. This is strictly subjective, of course, but it became one of those pieces of information that formed what I perceive as Ostromir's personality.

What is the connotation of unnatural in Portuguese?

 

That stuck with you? Was there a specific reason? And what are your thoughts on his personality?

Link to post
Share on other sites

What is the connotation of unnatural in Portuguese?

 

That stuck with you? Was there a specific reason? And what are your thoughts on his personality?

Unnatural means a reaction that is not standard. The meaning is the same but the Portuguese connotation makes it so that it has nothing to do with being weird... I can't really explain it. You probably assumed I was saying his actions weren't normal and that is technically what I was saying but I meant that is stuck with me. Something like that.

 

Your story:

The use of the strong adjective "Delighted" and the fact that it was the first encounter with him. 

Up until he changed I had this idea that he was a guy with some interest in Vladimir and that he was a nice guy. 

Link to post
Share on other sites

Unnatural means a reaction that is not standard. The meaning is the same but the Portuguese connotation makes it so that it has nothing to do with being weird... I can't really explain it. You probably assumed I was saying his actions weren't normal and that is technically what I was saying but I meant that is stuck with me. Something like that.

 

Your story:

The use of the strong adjective "Delighted" and the fact that it was the first encounter with him. 

Up until he changed I had this idea that he was a guy with some interest in Vladimir and that he was a nice guy. 

So, it piqued your interest because it was unnatural? Interesting.

 

He is interested in her, to the point of total fascination. When his cover was blown he told the truth.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Here's some lyrics I wrote recently that people seemed to like.

 

The song is called Shallow Water.

 

There’s mud

polluting shallow water

I guess that’s

all I really am

Just mud

polluting shallow water

I swear

I did everything I can

There’s blood

leading out the doorway

In the end

that’s all you really were

Just a cut

dripping off my fingers

It’s more the mess

that bothers than the hurt

I’m miserable, and you’re happy

guess I expected that from you

used to say I loved you,

now I don’t have to.

now there’s pills

I take every morning

I guess thats

all you really were

Just pills

I took every morning

I’m still

scared of the very worst

Yeah, I’m miserable and you’re happy

that’s what this song suggests

I loved you so much

I’ll try to love you less.

There was Elena, before you

with those dark brown eyes

and another, before her

who used to tell me lies

and I’d smile, and she’d smile

cause we were happy

together, forever

but we're not happy now

I hate you.

Link to post
Share on other sites

A little Drabble.

Melancholy

"Sometimes words overwhelm me, and my fears get the better of me. I feel so blue, I feel so melancholy, when they twist my words and make me into a monster..."

Jane combed through her daughter's diary. In it she had poured out her heart and soul. Before taking her life on the eight of October, she'd promised to make a list of all the things that had made her happy.

"1). Unicorns

2). My first kiss

3). A 1st place ribbon..."

Nowhere was her family mentioned. Jane wept alone in that tiny blue room, longing for sunshine and Hope.

Link to post
Share on other sites

This is one of my more liked snippets. No thoughts, no dialogue, not even a story. Just enough room for me to patch together some mildly dramatic descriptive lines without them conflicting with each other.

 

The sky is dark. You overlook a grand swath of deserted land. Occasionally, a weak gust of wind tumbles over around you.

Is there no one here? You see a man-made structure in the distance. The outline is but that, a regular blot over the luminous sky. Your curiosity pulls you forward, and you begin to walk. The ground is soft like hay-covered peat. Somehow, questions of food and water do not occur to you at all. Your thoughts seem to conform to atmosphere, the pace of this world. Your eyes wander as you walk, taking in the blue and green luminance of the heavens. The earth remains dark, though, and after a while, interest fades and your gaze returns. Is it just your imagination, or is the mansion a little closer? Wait? How did you think to call the building a mansion? It certainly is a possibility -- you scrutinize the faraway shadow -- though you really can't say anything for certain from this range. No matter. You end your contemplation and just exist for a while. Merely the sensation of one foot placed in front of the other is enough to placate you.

 

I'm pretty shy about my writing. Like I like thinking of concepts for stories, images/scenes to depict, explanations for events, causes for character development, but I don't know how to construct and tie together scenes in written text.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Corrections, suggestions and other miscellaneous comments are contained within the word document. I feel the story is pretty self-explanatory so a summary would just be redundant. If you have any questions or want to talk more about your story feel free to leave a comment on this thread. Things to look out for are more descriptions of the inside of the spaceship, imagery, tense shifts near the end of the story, and some minor formatting issues with the story.

 

I liked the camaraderie portrayed in the story and the use of social stratification to show what it meant to live in this world. The elusive nature of the Reapers was interesting and remained the focal point throughout the story. The enormity of the secret comes through to a certain extent, but if this is a standalone story I would suggest planting more hints throughout the story so that the reader can decipher the true identity behind the Reapers in the story. The setting needs some more work and I would have also liked to see the protagonist react and interact more with the environment. Thanks for sharing!

 

https://mega.co.nz/#!ZUcXjCqZ!iFFj4AFNBwbhUyBadPbigw2p79WKOcY1Hadzi7I25Kk

Link to post
Share on other sites

sanahtlig, do you update every Sunday or just any day during the weekend that your able to? Just saw the updated Memory's Wounds and there's a couple things I'd like to point out that I found interesting.

 

Sena's family is rich? Wasn't expecting that, though I picked up on it when you mentioned the fountain, interestingly enough. I quite like the amount of detail you put into that fact when describing the house.

 

From what I can tell, Mrs. Holmbrook is a very astute and critical person, maybe even habitual. I enjoy her personality and hope to see more of her.

 

I'd assume Sena's favorite color is lavender judging by the way she almost always wears that color. Either that or it's a color her mother specifically picks out for her. I wouldn't put that past her judging by her personality.

 

Where is the father? I realize that he's absent from the household. I'd understand if he just wasn't present at the time of Brian's visit, though.

 

If, by any chance, the father does crop up sometime later, don't say anything in detail about him. I'd rather be surprised should he decide to be introduced later in the story.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Do you guys mind if I ask for advice too?

March 20, 2020

It’s our graduation party. We’re all sitting down, eating. On our table, to my left is Kyle, and to my right are Lee, Rico and Luis in that order. Kyle is just staring at the food and saying how this feels like an anime that will end tear-filled, while Lee, Rico and Luis are being optimistic and are just living in the moment, dancing, and singing like crazy. How typical of them. The 4 girls, Ange, Maria, Jane and Christine were right across the table in front of me. They were talking about everyone’s futures. Who will get married earlier and who will be single for life were simply a few of their topics of discussion. Eventually, the topic of discussion was shifted to us and they came to the conclusion that the 5 of us will not get married soon because gay marriage is not legal for now. That was the joking answer. The serious one was that we would never get married because I would go to jail for murder, Kyle would never have a little girl love him back, Lee was too baby-faced, and Rico and Luis were too… free. Yep, they sure were serious people. The 3 corncobs, as I so gracefully dubbed them as, were coming back from the bathroom. Prima was crying on Gyuri’s shoulder about how she will miss her and Nerine so much. Nerine was just shaking her head because the 3 would go to the same college anyway. Gyuri was just trying hard to stifle her laughter. Jan was with Ralph and Rianna. Jan was just talking about the cars he could buy in the future. It almost came off as boastful, but that’s Jan for you. Ralph and Rianna were just being their usual selves, bickering, talking, being rather calm compared to the rest.

 

 

On the other table, Kayne, our class’ world-class pervert, was just horsing around cracking perverted jokes. Leean was face palming, as always. JB, Jun, Migs and Patrick were his follow-ups, while Margaret and Clarice simply laughed along. Jef, Sandy, and Bea were gossiping about, well, everything. Jada, Matthea, Julienne, Charlene, and Gia were talking about love lives. Namely Jada’s, but it even extended to Charlene’s broken heart. Seriously, this other table is just so, so vain.

 

To put it simply, despite it being the last time we’ll see most of us, we’re still acting the same as always. Funny, I wonder how Kyle feels about it. In the 4 years we've been classmates, I've never seen him cry. That should be my next goal in life.

 

 

Everyone got up the table and started playing party games. The first was a dance competition. Naturally, Luis, Lee, and Jun would take center stage, so the competition was a random group of students versus them. Complete with defending champions and a round boy. That round boy was Rico; he sure did a great job. Thankfully he didn't wear anything… illegal. The judges were simply the audience’s cheers. The first round challengers were Jef, Sandy, and Bea. They were dubbed, “The Failures”, by yours truly, of course. From the moment they screamed, “Woot! Let’s do this!” you could tell that they were not in it to win. Also, macarena versus a lot of handstands, flips, and leg, er- movements? The victor was clear. The second round challengers were Kyle, Keanu, Ralph, and Jan. This was a lot more of a competition than the first round. There was synchronization and it really looked impressive. I even clapped. Kyle was actually doing something above averagely, for one. I laughed a bit, in my mind. I should probably tell him that. That being said, the defending champions still defended their title. No one messed up, but Luis stepped up his game and actually bent his body in ways I didn't know could happen. It was that little thing that showed why they are the defending champions.

 

Afterwards, Kyle walked back to his seat, to my right. “You did well,” I told him. It wasn't average for a change.”

He replied, “Dude, my physical abilities are excellent.” We both laughed. I wasn't paying attention to the any of the rounds after that. They were more or less the same as the first round, anyway. There was no competition, and the challengers were all outclassed. I ended up just chatting with Kyle to let the boredom go away. 

Umm, it's about a series of seemingly unrelated murder cases, which all connect at the last one. Said last case gives all the answers and motivations of the culprit. This is a part of a build up to one of the answers to the case. I thought it would be nicer to start at the end to make it easier to organize the first cases.

 

My main problem is really the fact that I can't make this part interesting and it feels lazy. SoL is one of my flaws, I guess.

 

Inspired by When They Cry.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Wrote this for Solidbatman's challenge.  It seems to be working well, so I'd like some feedback in the event that I decide to pick it up for later.  Seems it has potential.

 

~~~

 

 

--Chapter 1.  Visnovellian Night.  The First Symphony.

 

     April 16th, 11:30 PM.  Half an hour until the date changes, and that shit informant still hasn’t arrived.  Where the fuck is he?  We were supposed to meet here an hour ago!  I could be at the brothel right now!  I could be having drunken sex!  Do you realize how rarely I get to do that!?

     The lamp on the other side of the street is flickering between light and dark.  Howling wind blows across the road and kicks up the dirt at my feet.  One by one, the windows go black as the few remaining everymen turn in for the night.  Except for that guy on the third floor, though.  Why do you keep going after my daughter?  Get your own for once!

     A field of stars twinkles in the sky up above.  I’m usually indoors this time of night, so it isn’t often I get to see them like this.  Like the far-off cities to the north, a sea of lights outside of a man’s wildest imaginations, sitting there in plain sight.  A miracle of the world, passed by without so much as a glance.

     28 minutes to midnight.  The Clock Tower of the Golden Witch shines just as bright as ever.  High above every other building in view, like a sparkling beacon to those prancing fuckwits in the shiny clothes.  Chances are they’re drunk as usual.  Golden drapes adorn the tower with a fine sheen, and if you looked closely enough you could see spots of blood on the walls, artifacts past of one of their crazy ‘games.’  You would be hard-pressed to find an actual corpse nearby, though.

     My blade rests firmly in its sheathe, tied to my waist and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.  Were this last month I’d have my gun as well, but some fuckwit decided to mess around with it and it blew up in his face.  My hair rests in front of my eyes (I hate those fucking haircuts) and my mustache rests upon my lips (I fucking hate shaving) like a migrant worm begging for warmth.  My body is covered in a black trenchcoat – useful for keeping out of view, but I’ve been standing here for so damn long my legs are going to snap if they don’t get to kick someone.  The rest of my clothes isn’t really worth mentioning – a brown shirt with long sleeves, and some black pants I bought last Christmas.  They’re sturdy and can take a punch, but aside from that aren’t really exceptional in any way.

     Footsteps.  Someone’s coming.

     I duck into the alleyway for a moment, and peer over the wall to get a good look.   A young man, about four years younger than me.  A brown coat like something out of a Sherlock movie and a black ponytail waving around behind his head.  Sweat drops from his face and his breath is in short spasms.  The kind of man who trips over his own shoelaces at least four times a day, then stops to tie them together in the middle of a barfight.

     Is that the informant?  He seems kind of small.  He’s wearing a red scarf like the informant said he would, but I can’t tell if he’s actually the one.  Where has he been all this time?

     “Karkhan!  Mr. Karkhan!”  The boy screams out into the night.  And then, he reels backwards and falls to the floor.

     Because I punched him in the face.  My fist reels back into position.

     “Rule number one.  Do not make me fucking wait.”  I look down at him two feet back, flailing around on the ground with blood coming out his nose.  The guy started squirming around like a worm burrowing back into the ground.  What the hell?  He’s starting to get up, but he still looks like something I’d have flushed down the toilet right now.

     “U-um…I would much prefer if you didn’t do that again, Mr. Karkhan.”  He said.  I step close and shove myself into his face.

     “Rule number two.  There are very few people who can call me by my last name, and you aren’t one of them.  I don’t want that shit spoken anywhere in a hundred miles from me.  Understood?”

      “Y-Yes, Raevan.  Understood.”

     If memory serves me, the kid’s name is Johnathan.  Johnathan Hendriat.  The guy couldn’t harm a fly if he tried and his only redeeming quality is how easily he can hop around without getting himself killed.  Our second time cooperating together since the start of the new year.  First time we ended up running around with some underground mafia conspiracy – his wife and daughter abandoned ship after I said the guy had died in a car accident, and wouldn’t you know it the guy shows up in a full-body cast at my doorstep a month later.  He has a knack for proving people wrong about that shit.  If you thought it was impossible, he’s probably done it.  And who needs the family, anyway?  His wife was even more of a shit than mine!

     “So, what is it?  I’ve been waiting here all day so you’d better make damn sure it’s important.  Feels like my balls are freezing off here.”  I mean that as literally as possible without putting my masculinity in danger.  It’s the middle of spring but for all I know it could start snowing any fucking second.

     “M-My apologies, I was deciphering the texts and didn’t notice the time, and then there was the dragon and my taxi was late-Anyway, come with me!  There isn’t much time left!”

     The kid runs off before I can grab him.  “What the hell are you talking about!?”  The shit talks so fast I can barely hear him, and he dashes down the alleyway like a rabid squirrel who just drank a lifetime supply of coke.

     “The dragon!  It’s here!”

     “Are you in middle school, you little shit?  Where are you going!?”

     Are you shitting me?  Are you fucking shitting me?  This is the kind of shit I tell my daughter so she doesn’t wander into the brothel!  What the hell is he talking about!?

     Johnathan runs up the steps to the fourth-story balconies.  The wood creaks and bends under our feet as we dash past.  The window drapes are blowing around in the air and clothes hung out to dry hangs above the streets below.    We’re making so much damn noise I’m surprised the whole city isn’t up in arms over us.

     “I’m serious!  It’s almost here!”  The kid’s eyes are lit up like a fucking lighthouse of all things.  “Could you stop running and tell me what the fuck it is you’re talking about!?”

     “I’m talking about a dragon!”  “THEY DON’T FUCKING EXIST, SHITHEAD!”  “Well you didn’t spend all night on those documents, did you?”  “I DON’T FUCKING CARE, THEY DON’T FUCKING EXIST!”

     The sound of the golden bells rings across the town.  The Clock Tower of the Golden Witch looms high into the sky.  Midnight has come, as the last remaining vestiges of the night fall into silence.  The stars shine brightly in the sky, brighter than anything human hands could ever have created.  Sparkling above like an incontainable force that, no matter how we may try, holds a power that cannot be held.

     April 17th, 12:00 AM.  Midnight.  It’s about this time that all the night owls head to bed, and all the brothels stop accepting new customers to give the overnight fuckers some peace.  The time where modern society loses its focus, and the world regresses to its most base form under the cover of the dark.  Nobody can hear your cries, and nobody can hear you scream.  Such is the nature of the depths of the night.

     A roar.  A terrifying howl from beasts unknown, unheard of by the reasoning of modern society.  Like the cry of a banshee the size of ten-thousand men, a titan unmatched by human potential.  A deep, penetrating roar that sends shockwaves through the city and would drive a mortal man to insanity.  A paralyzing chill runs through my spine like a single bullet, and the bones in my body tense up with an indescribable strength beyond mortal comprehension.

     “It’s here, it’s here, it’s here!”  Johnathan runs ahead like a toddler on Christmas morning.  That damn ponytail is fluttering about and his speed increases even faster than it was before.  Keep running, my body says to me.  If you don’t, you’ll miss the main event.  It cries out like a child desperate to satisfy his curiosity.  My feet run ahead with momentum far beyond my ability to stop it, as if the hands of fate itself have pushed me onto a path of no return.  It isn’t that our fate is pre-determined, it’s simply that our ignorance doesn’t allow us any other choices.

     And so, at long last.  Our tale has finally begun.

     The green beast rushes forth.  Emerald scales cover its body like the finest jewels, and its’ eyes a raging fire that has burned from the moment of its birth.  Great wings, each large enough to cover a two-story building, flap back and forth with an effortless motion.  Each gust of wind pushes it forward, flying through the air as an explosion of air blasts out behind it.  A single one would be enough to destroy a small building if the events of the night were not commanded to stay hidden.  The inhabitants of the town stay asleep in their beds, unaware of the majestic beast bursting forth right outside their doors.

     “Gangamamer.  The mythical beast of new beginnings.”  Johnathan’s voice is barely audible.  His eyes are transfixed too strongly to speak.

     The beast is real.  There’s no other explanation for this.  No figment of mere imagination could cause one’s body to tremble so strongly, to strike fear in one’s heart with such simple movements.  And yet, only something outside of our known reality could be so beautiful to begin with.  A blind man would call it a nightmare.  A deaf man would call it a treasure.  But nobody can ignore the beast’s immense power, at a scale unheard of by all of mortal society.

     The clock tower’s golden glow reflects off the creature’s  emerald skin.  Each individual scale a great emerald in its own right.  Even a single one could buy a small country if you found someone willing to purchase it.  The dragon rushes across the air with such speed, and yet there is not a scratch on a single one.  It deftly turns across the buildings, like the swiftest eagle in all the world, rushing across the town without so much as glancing the buildings with its’ skin.  I’m surprised we’re able to keep up.  We’re probably only able to see it because this isn’t anything more than a midnight stroll.  The thought that something could move even faster threatens to snap my mind in two, but no other explanation comes to mind no matter how hard I think.

     Gangamamer.  It’s here.  Right before our eyes.  A fucking dragon.  Can you believe this shit?  This is the kind of stuff people tell their kids so they don’t fuck something up.  Children’s tales, nothing more.  Lies and follies to get the little brats to behave instead of running around the city like mindless midgets.  It’s not supposed to even exist in the first place.  If you’re going to choose something to turn into a real thing, why not choose something easier?  Like a little fucking fairy that goes around flashing her tits to growing adolescents or a little elf that delivers beer to people’s houses?

     But this?  A fucking dragon, of all things?  What are you on?  Of all the mythical creatures in the land, this is the one you decide to bring to life?  A fucking DRAGON?  Did you smoke too much pot today, you little shit?  Did you leave your sanity at the door and lock yourself up with little girls until you found something that sounded like a good idea?

     The beast rushes forward.  With one final flap of its wings, it bursts into the air.  The dragon blasts into the sky, disappearing once more.  Faintly blinking off in the distance, until it joins the starts high up in the sky.

     I stop, and rest my feet.  How long was I running for?  I don’t know.  My vision is blurry and full of dust, and my ears ring and ring like there’s no end in sight.  It’s like I’m drowning in my own sweat with my legs threatening to snap in two if I take so much as another step.

     Johnathan plasters his body along the floor.  His fingers are twitching like they have a torrent of energy with nowhere to go.  His breathing is repetitive and loud, but his eyes haven’t dimmed since the moment we first laid eyes on it.  They’re twinkling like the brightest stars in the sky.

     I open my mouth after a few minutes’ rest.  “So, you little shit.  When the hell is that thing showing up again?”

     There’s a bit of time before his reply, caught between desperate breasts as he tries to fill his lungs.  “Don’t know yet.  It’ll be a long time before the whole document is deciphered.”

     “Well, see if you can sort it soon.  We’ll need it.”

     “Oh?  You actually took an interest in it?”  He genuinely looks kind of surprised.

     “Damn fucking straight, kid.”  I smirk.

 

     “We’re going to catch that bastard.  One way or another.”

     And so, the first night comes to an end.  Our story has begun.

 

As for Wondeffullyevil, the core problem is that, well, nothing's happening.  Frankly it's a bit difficult to read, because of two primary reasons that I can decipher, but most importantly is that there's nothing interesting going on.  Mostly exposition and telling everyone each other's names, but if this isn't the first page the reader sees (Unless this is some In Medias Res it probably isn't) then you don't need that exposition to understand the scene, and if it is then there's nothing interesting enough to keep them reading past the first paragraph.

 

Secondly is the lack of description, in that we can't even imagine the scene strongly enough to jump in.  Usually the reader is able to jump into the story's world because the descriptions give us a vector to enter it through our senses, but when they're lacking the story just becomes a jumbled mess of words as opposed to the illusion of a real world.  Just 'it's a graduation party' and 'they're sitting at a table and eating' isn't enough.  Sight, sound, smell, the way the wind blasts through an open window, maybe the rain hitting the ground or a crack of lightning, to the way the red velvet drapes hang down from the windows.  There's a fine line to be drawn in that too much description can slow down the pacing, but it's important.

 

Personally I'd cut the scene regardless of where it is in the story - if it's just before the conclusion then you just cut to the important part of the conclusion, if it's the first thing the reader sees then find a stronger scene to work from.

 

As an example of a first line,

 

 

 

Amy's pendant lies in a pool of blood on the floor.  We had started dating a few months back.  It wasn't supposed to happen like this.  The bloodied axe falls from my hand and drops to the ground.

 

Get the important details out of the way as soon as you can, but leave enough hidden that it draws the reader in with mystery.  Description is key.  Perhaps the scene takes place in a wine cellar of some sort, maybe there's a fancy ball/party going on upstairs.  Does the music reach this far down?  Could anyone above hear the scream?  Does the man have beads of sweat dripping down from his face?  Is he wounded himself?  How does he cover his tracks?  Maybe he lights a match and sets fire to the cellar?  Maybe a friend calls him and asks if he's okay, assuming and implying that Amy was trying to break up with the protagonist?  Maybe the conversation continues as he's running out of the building?  Maybe the fire causes an explosion?

 

Then maybe at the end of the scene, the viewpoint character ends up dead, and the rest of the characters end up having to solve both their murders at the start of the story.  Or something.

Link to post
Share on other sites

@zodai

 

Interesting start to your story. I can definitely see how Sherlock Holmes influenced parts of this story, from the insightful protagonist all the way to the budding relationship with the informant. There's a lot expectations already in place for coming chapter such as the elusive nature of the clock tower, the city, the bringing to life of mythological creatures, and the strange mastermind behind the oblivious nature of the occupants of the city. Some things I noticed in this first chapter is the lack of detail given to setting which made it hard for me ground myself in the story and follow along with the characters as they roamed the city, some confusion with the time in which this story takes place in because of the mention of soda, (...might have just been an error on my part, so apologies if that is the case) and word choice which at times bogs down the pacing of the story and takes away from those moments where you really want to reel in your reader. My suggestions and corrections are contained within the spoiler tags. If you have questions or concerns feel free to leave a comment here on this thread.

 

The story follows Raevan Karkhan as he meets up with his informant, Johnathan, in order to capture a dragon. With the help of texts that the informant is working hard to decipher they hope to capture the dragon. What they plant to do with if afterward is still up for debate. At the very least Raevan acknowledges that a single scale could help them acquire a country, but it doesn't seem like he's the type to be allured by money. His wit and penchant for strange details make him an engaging character. He could potentially move the plot forward by himself because of his unique way of looking at the world and headstrong way of tackling obstacles (or punching people who disrespect him...). You have great descriptions which augment your already great characterization. At times though, I feel like the same could have been applied to the setting. There is mention of a great clock tower and of far of cities to the north but little the description of the city these characters are inhabiting. Simply having your characters interact more with the setting will help the reader become more grounded in the setting and make it easier to follow along when the characters start to run through the city. There's mention of Johnathan running up to the fourth-story balconies and then it seems like we're with the characters on the rooftops or something. There seems to be attention given to the vast sky than to the city at hand. I was confused at times as to where everyone was in relation to things around them because of how fast paced the chapter becomes near the end. The city itself seems to be quite the mysterious and dangerous place, and it would be a pity if it cannot thrive as much as the characters are right now.

 

Tenses need to be consistent throughout the story. Right after the story starts we have "miracles of the world, passed by" and "if you looked closely enough" which takes us out of the present tense the story started with. The story seems to function fine in present tense, so just make sure it remains consistent throughout the story, or at the very least this chapter. Stylistic choices like deciding whether or not thoughts should be in parenthesis or in italics is also something to take note of. As before, make sure these are consistent. Use packed details to make events  have more impact for the reader and improve the pacing of your sentences. Your similes and metaphors are strong for the most part, but there are times when the similes become a bit distracting and start to conflict with the tone of the story. Overall, I'd say that the story is very humorous with a hint of danger underneath. It's hard at times to know where I should lean and lay down my cards since the descriptions seem to conflict with the situation at hand.

 

For example, "“It’s here, it’s here, it’s here!”  Johnathan runs ahead like a toddler on Christmas morning." They're facing a dragon which at the very least can kill them with ease so this simile destroys any possibility of danger. There are many instances when the balance between humor and the seriousness of a situation is tenuous which makes it hard to suspend one's disbelief. It's hard to root for these characters during these life-or-death situations because I focused more on the absurdity as opposed to the mission that Raevan was undertaking. The fact that their is someone behind the scenes making sure that no danger befalls the occupants of the city, and that they don't become aware of the magical elements at play serves to isolate these characters and allows us to focus more on their budding relationship. On the other hand, it also means that if this continues for too long the reader will become uninterested in the 'threats' that appear, because they are used to augment an imaginary threat without much consequence. I won't judge this chapter too harshly thought because it's setting up a lot of interesting things and it may very well be that there will be dire consequences in store for these characters and the city.

 

What dialogue exists is good and serves to bolster the relationship between these two characters. It's not done for the sake of exposition, but to portray these characters as real people with aspirations and nuanced views of the world. I would like to see more dialogue and a bit less description if possible since the characterization is the strongest part of this chapter.

 

Overall, I think your story has a lot of potential. The characters are definitely the main driving point right now and whether or not the city can do the same legwork as the characters is strictly up to you. Like always, time constraints prohibit me from making this a very in-depth critique that analyzes all aspects of the story, but for now this should suffice to shine some light on some of the flaws and strengths of your story. Feel free to post another chapter here if you want more help, thanks for sharing!

 

 

 

--Chapter 1.  Visnovellian Night.  The First Symphony.

 

     April 16th, 11:30 PM.  Half an hour until the date changes, and that shit informant still hasn’t arrived.  Where the fuck is he?  We were supposed to meet here an hour ago!  I could be at the brothel right now!  I could be having drunken sex!  Do you (Addressing the reader?) realize how rarely I get to do that!?

     The lamp on the other side of the street is flickering between light and dark (The word 'flickering' already implies this.)  Howling wind blows across the road and kicks up the dirt at my feet.  One by one, the windows go black as the few remaining everymen (Workers?) turn in for the night.  Except for that guy on the third floor, though.  Why do you keep going after my daughter?  Get your own for once!

     A field of stars twinkles in the sky up above.  I’m usually indoors this time of night, so it isn’t often I get to see them like this.  Like the far-off cities to the north, a sea of lights outside of a man’s wildest imaginations, sitting there in plain sight.  A miracle of the world, passed (Tense shift) by without so much as a glance.

     28 minutes to midnight.  The Clock Tower of the Golden Witch shines just as bright as ever.  High above every other building in view, like a sparkling beacon to those prancing fuckwits in the (their) shiny clothes.  Chances are they’re drunk as usual.  Golden drapes adorn the tower with a fine sheen, and if you looked (<---I'm confused as to whether this is happening in the present because of the tenses.) closely enough you could see spots of blood on the walls, artifacts past of one of their crazy ‘games.’  You would be hard-pressed to find an actual corpse nearby, though.

     My blade rests firmly in its sheathe, tied to my waist and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.  Were this last month I’d have my gun as well, but some fuckwit decided to mess around with it and it blew up in his face.  My hair rests in front of my eyes (I hate those fucking haircuts) (Thoughts are in parantheses here, but later on they are in italics. Make sure protagonists' thoughts are consistent throughout the story.) and my mustache rests upon my lips (I fucking hate shaving) like a migrant worm begging for warmth. (Nice description.)  My body is covered in a black trenchcoat – useful for keeping out of view, but I’ve been standing here for so damn long my legs are going to snap if they don’t get to kick someone.  The rest of my clothes isn’t (aren't) really worth mentioning – a brown shirt with long sleeves, and some black pants I bought last Christmas.  They’re sturdy and can take a punch, but aside from that aren’t really exceptional in any way. (It's not exceptional, but it can take a punch. Quite the strange attribute, which brings attention to this piece of clothing. First impression is that this is an unreliable narrator who is hiding other 'unexceptional details' about himself. I'd take out the 'can take a punch part.')

     Footsteps.  Someone’s coming.

     I duck into the alleyway for a moment, and peer over the wall to get a good look. (How tall are the buildings surrounding this alley that the protagonist can peer over the wall? Need a bit more description of where the protagonist is at the moment to ground myself.) A young man, about four years younger than me.  A brown coat like something out of a Sherlock movie and a black ponytail waving around behind his head.  Sweat drops from his face and his breath is (comes out) in short spasms.  The kind of man who trips over his own shoelaces at least four times a day, then stops to tie them together in the middle of a barfight. (Nice characterization. The protagonist is a very astute individual who can size up people at a mere glance.)

     Is that the informant?  He seems kind of small.  He’s wearing a red scarf like the informant said he would, but I can’t tell if he’s actually the one.  Where has he been all this time?

     “Karkhan!  Mr. Karkhan!” The boy screams out into the night.  And then, he reels backwards and falls to the floor.

     Because I punched him in the face. My fist reels back into position. (Too mechanical of a description, make it sound more natural.)

     “Rule number one.  Do not make me fucking wait.” (Thoughts or dialogue? Part of it is in italics which kind of throws me off. An exclamation point would be enough to give it emphasis if that's the effect you want to instill.)  I look down at him two feet back, flailing around on the ground with blood coming out his nose.  The guy started squirming around like a worm burrowing back into the ground.  What the hell?  He’s starting to get up, but he still looks like something I’d have flushed down the toilet right now. (Haha, this guy sure speaks his mind. I like him.)

     “U-um…I would much prefer if you didn’t do that again, Mr. Karkhan.”  He said. (Dialogue is wrong here. It should be: blah blah, Mr. Karkhan," he said.")  I step close and shove myself into his face. (Movement is too brusque and unnatural here. Suggestion: "I leaned forward" or "I brought my face close to his")

     “Rule number two. There are very few people who can call me by my last name, and you aren’t one of them.  I don’t want that shit spoken anywhere in (within) a hundred miles from me.  Understood?”

      “Y-Yes, Raevan.  Understood.”

     If memory serves me, the kid’s name is Johnathan.  Johnathan Hendriat.  The guy couldn’t harm a fly if he tried and his only redeeming quality is how easily he can hop around without getting himself killed.  Our second time cooperating together since the start of the new year. (Alright, so he has met him before.) First time we ended up running around with some underground mafia conspiracy – his wife and daughter abandoned ship after I said the guy had died in a car accident, and wouldn’t you know it the guy shows up in a full-body cast at my doorstep a month later. He has a knack for proving people wrong about that shit. If you thought it was impossible, he’s probably done it.  And who needs the family, anyway?  His wife was even more of a shit than mine!

     “So, what is it?  I’ve been waiting here all day so you’d better make damn sure it’s important.  Feels like my balls are freezing off here.” I mean that as literally as possible without putting my masculinity in danger. It’s the middle of spring but for all I know it could start snowing any fucking second.

     “M-My apologies, I was deciphering the texts and didn’t notice the time, and then there was the dragon and my taxi was late-Anyway, come with me!  There isn’t much time left!”

     The kid runs off before I can grab him.  “What the hell are you talking about!?”  The shit talks so fast I can barely hear him, and he dashes down the alleyway like a rabid squirrel who just drank a lifetime supply of coke. (The drink? If so, then what time period is this story set in cause these guys are dressed in trench coats, carrying swords, etc.)

     “The dragon!  It’s here!”

     “Are you in middle school, you little shit?  Where are you going!?”

     Are you shitting me?  Are you fucking shitting me?  This is the kind of shit I tell my daughter so she doesn’t wander into the brothel (The existence of brothels makes me think it's definitely not 21st century. Since you can't drink coke (drugs) it's probably best to take out that detail from the story.)!  What the hell is he talking about!?

     Johnathan runs up the steps to the fourth-story balconies. (Definitely need to see more of the streets and the city cause I don't know where they are in the story right now. I know it's night time, but there are definitely other landmarks that can be described. It's probably good to have your characters interact more with their environment, instead of merely having them describe it.)  The wood creaks and bends under our feet as we dash past.  The window drapes are blowing around in the air and clothes hung out to dry hangs above the streets below. (<---Last part of the sentence is awkwardly phrased. Read it a loud and you'll see why.) We’re making so much damn noise I’m surprised the whole city isn’t up in arms over us. (That is a good question. Are the people in the city just oblivious to what's going on outside?)

     “I’m serious!  It’s almost here!”  The kid’s eyes are lit up like a fucking lighthouse of all things. “Could you stop running and tell me what the fuck it is you’re talking about!?”

     “I’m talking about a dragon!”  “THEY DON’T FUCKING EXIST, SHITHEAD!”  “Well (,) you didn’t spend all night on those documents, did you?”  “I DON’T FUCKING CARE, THEY DON’T FUCKING EXIST!” (I know it's more nitpicky since it's personal taste due to what stories influence us, but in my opinion the writing should carry these emotions forward without there being a need to capitalize the entire sentence. I understand the intent behind his words so having it pop up like just seems a little more blatant than it should.)

     The sound of the golden bells rings across the town.  The Clock Tower of the Golden Witch looms high into the sky.  Midnight has come, as the last remaining vestiges of the night fall into silence.  The stars shine brightly in the sky, brighter than anything human hands could ever have created.  Sparkling above like an incontainable (<---Not sure if this is a word...but I do get what you're trying to say.) force that, no matter how we may try, holds a power that cannot be held.

    

April 17th, 12:00 AM.  Midnight.  It’s about this time that all the night owls head to bed, and all the brothels stop accepting new customers to give the overnight fuckers some peace.  The time where (when) modern society loses its focus, and the world regresses to its most base form under the cover of the dark.  Nobody can hear your cries, and nobody can hear you scream.  Such is the nature of the depths of the night. (A bit blunt here, but this whole paragraph is a bit cliche, it's the whole 'monsters come out at night' thing most readers are familiar with. Try to give it a more unique spin.)

     A roar. A terrifying howl from beasts unknown, unheard of by the reasoning of modern society.  Like the cry of a banshee the size of ten-thousand men, a titan unmatched by human potential.  A deep, penetrating roar that sends shockwaves through the city and would drive a mortal man to insanity. (It kind of seems like this should be happening, so why isn't it? The mere presence of a dragon should send the occupants of the city scurrying like crazy when it roars. The protagonists seems to be suggestion a lot of terrible things, but it comes off as an empty bluff. Within the context of the first chapter it's underwhelming because nothing of this scale happens, but perhaps it's setting us up for later events and the possibility of disaster.) A paralyzing chill runs through my spine like a single bullet, and the bones in my body tense up with an indescribable strength beyond mortal comprehension. (<---Too many modifiers in this sentence, makes it a chore to read. Use packed details to maximize the effect you're trying to achieve.)

     “It’s here, it’s here, it’s here!”  Johnathan runs ahead like a toddler on Christmas morning. (At times the tone of the story is conflicting because of description like these. It makes a bit hard to decide what's a threat and what isn't when we lean too much toward dark humor.) That damn ponytail is fluttering about and his speed increases even faster than it was before. (Suggestion: he starts running even faster than before. Sometimes it's best to just keep it simple.Keep running, my body says to me.  If you don’t, you’ll miss the main event.  It cries out like a child desperate to satisfy his curiosity. (How is his body doing this? Kind of reaching with this simile, it's not doing much here.) My feet run ahead with momentum far beyond my ability to stop it (<---Awkward phrasing), as if the hands of fate itself have pushed me onto a path of no return.  It isn’t that our fate is pre-determined, it’s simply that our ignorance doesn’t allow us any other choices.

     And so, at long last.  Our tale has finally begun.

     The green beast rushes forth.  Emerald scales cover its body like the finest jewels, and its’ eyes a raging fire that has (have) burned from the moment of its birth.  Great wings, each large enough to cover a two-story building, flap back and forth with an effortless motion.  Each gust of wind pushes it forward, flying through the air as an explosion of air blasts out behind it.  A single one would be enough to destroy a small building if the events of the night were not commanded to stay hidden. (Who's commanding these events? There's a lot of talk about fate, so it seems like something is prohibiting the occupants of the city from being aware of the threat in the city. Probably better to set this up earlier in the story so that the reader can suspend his/her disbelief with more ease.)  The inhabitants of the town stay asleep in their beds, unaware of the majestic beast bursting forth right outside their doors.

     “Gangamamer. The mythical beast of new beginnings.”  Johnathan’s voice is barely audible.  His eyes are transfixed too strongly to speak.

     The beast is real.  There’s no other explanation for this.  No figment of mere imagination could cause one’s body to tremble so strongly, to strike fear in one’s heart with such simple movements.  And yet, only something outside of our known reality could be so beautiful to begin with.  A blind man would call it a nightmare.  A deaf man would call it a treasure.  But nobody can ignore the beast’s immense power, at a scale unheard of by all of mortal society.

     The clock tower’s golden glow (light) reflects off the creature’s  emerald skin.  Each individual scale a great emerald in its own right.  Even a single one could buy a small country if you found someone willing to purchase it. The dragon rushes across the air with such speed, and yet there is not a scratch on a single one.  It deftly turns across the buildings, like the swiftest eagle in all the world, rushing across the town without so much as glancing the buildings with its’ skin.  I’m surprised we’re able to keep up.  We’re probably only able to see it because this isn’t anything more than a midnight stroll. (<---This seems important but I'm not sure I understand how a 'midnight stroll' could make this possible.)The thought that something could move even faster threatens to snap my mind in two, but no other explanation comes to mind no matter how hard I think.

     Gangamamer.  It’s here.  Right before our eyes.  A fucking dragon.  Can you believe this shit?  This is the kind of stuff people tell their kids so they don’t fuck something up.  Children’s tales, nothing more.  Lies and follies to get the little brats to behave instead of running around the city like mindless midgets.  It’s not supposed to even exist in the first place.  If you’re going to choose something to turn into a real thing, why not choose something easier? (So someone brought this mythical creature into this world and they are in charge of putting it down, capturing it, etc. Not sure what their motive is at the moment.)  Like a little fucking fairy that goes around flashing her tits to growing adolescents or a little elf that delivers beer to people’s houses?

     But this?  A fucking dragon, of all things?  What are you on?  Of all the mythical creatures in the land, this is the one you decide to bring to life?  A fucking DRAGON?  Did you smoke too much pot today, you little shit?  Did you leave your sanity at the door and lock yourself up with little girls until you found something that sounded like a good idea?

     The beast rushes forward.  With one final flap of its wings, it bursts into the air.  The dragon blasts into the sky, disappearing once more.  Faintly blinking off in the distance, until it joins the starts (stars?) high up in the sky.

     I stop, and rest my feet.  How long was I running for? (Something strange is definitely happening for them to have been able to keep up with the dragon.)  I don’t know.  My vision is blurry and full of dust, and my ears ring and ring like there’s no end in sight.  It’s like I’m drowning in my own sweat with my legs threatening to snap in two (<---Find another way of describing this sensation, you already used it once in this chapter.) if I take so much as another step.

     Johnathan plasters (<---Strange word choice.) his body along the floor.  His fingers are twitching like they have a torrent of energy with nowhere to go.  His breathing is repetitive and loud, but his eyes haven’t dimmed since the moment we first laid eyes on it.  They’re twinkling like the brightest stars in the sky.

     I open my mouth after a few minutes’ rest.  “So, you little shit.  When the hell is that thing showing up again?”

     There’s a bit of time before his reply, caught between desperate breasts (breaths? Funny typo, though.) as he tries to fill his lungs.  “Don’t know yet.  It’ll be a long time before the whole document is deciphered.”

     “Well, see if you can sort it soon.  We’ll need it.” (To seal the dragon? Some sort of spell book?)

     “Oh?  You actually took an interest in it?”  He genuinely looks kind of surprised.

     “Damn fucking straight, kid.”  I smirk.

 

     “We’re going to catch that bastard.  One way or another.”

     And so, the first night comes to an end.  Our story has begun.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Here's some lyrics I wrote recently that people seemed to like.

 

The song is called Shallow Water.

 

There’s mud

polluting shallow water

I guess that’s

all I really am

Just mud

polluting shallow water

I swear

I did everything I can

There’s blood

leading out the doorway

In the end

that’s all you really were

Just a cut

dripping off my fingers

It’s more the mess

that bothers than the hurt

I’m miserable, and you’re happy

guess I expected that from you

used to say I loved you,

now I don’t have to.

now there’s pills

I take every morning

I guess thats

all you really were

Just pills

I took every morning

I’m still

scared of the very worst

Yeah, I’m miserable and you’re happy

that’s what this song suggests

I loved you so much

I’ll try to love you less.

There was Elena, before you

with those dark brown eyes

and another, before her

who used to tell me lies

and I’d smile, and she’d smile

cause we were happy

together, forever

but we're not happy now

I hate you.

 

I feel that the strength of these lyrics is how the verses compound their metaphors. To describe yourself as mud is one thing, but then this mud, this sense of self, is what ruins something else - water. I get the feeling that the water is the woman you've broken up with. In which case, shallow takes on its double meaning, and I really like double meanings. Next, we have the line about blood. Instantly, I started to think: how much blood? Whose blood? Insignificant drips from the tips of your finger. That's the sense I get of this woman.

 

However, when we move into the chorus, if I am to be critical, I feel it starts to become quite lacklustre. I don't think cliche is the right word, but the chorus is more along the lines of just being trite. It just feels like it lacks personality, and I don't know how else to put it. If you read it by meaning alone, yes, there are unmistakable emotions. Yet even if the misery is outwardly stated, all I truly feel is the sense of apathy carried from the first verse. Even in the second iteration of the chorus, when you say 'that's what this song suggests', I don't feel the misery at all - just the insignificance.

 

And then to carry the feeling of insigificance into the verse about the pills forces a double take. All of a sudden, it's clear this woman wasn't insignificant. She was an addiction, a focal point in a life. I like that in break up songs, where there's at least a solemn admission of how important that person once was, rather than just barking down at them for an entire song. I don't really know what to make of the last verse, but the line that hits me the most is 'I'd smile and she'd smile cause we were happy'. I read this in a purely cynical tone. A sort of, "happy people smile right? We're happy, right? We better be smiling then." Well, I'm not sure how my interpretation files up to how you intended to write the song, but that's what I get from it.

 

In my own songwriting, I can't always practice what I preach, and often I'm not even aware I'm breaking my own rules. Not to mention, it's a lot easier to criticise than be criticised, but I know that I can't ever develop unless someone points out what's wrong. So I'd also really appreciate it if anyone were to pick apart some lyrics that I wrote. And even if my writing style is extremely vague (ironically by virtue of being so specific in content), I've never really had the chance to show these lyrics to anyone who didn't already know the true meaning. I'm curious to see what kinds of interpretations can be made.

 

This song is called 'Ephemera Kept'

Doesn't matter how cold it gets, you know that I'm happy

Watching white breath spill from your lips as you run.

I think that your hair really does suit you,

But I wanna see your hair down.

I still keep your letters stashed under my pillow,

Cause I feel they're somehow lending me your courage.

From now I'll stop regretting everything

And be strong like you.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Wrote this for Solidbatman's challenge.  It seems to be working well, so I'd like some feedback in the event that I decide to pick it up for later.  Seems it has potential.

 

~~~

 

 

--Chapter 1.  Visnovellian Night.  The First Symphony.

 

     April 16th, 11:30 PM.  Half an hour until the date changes, and that shit informant still hasn’t arrived.  Where the fuck is he?  We were supposed to meet here an hour ago!  I could be at the brothel right now!  I could be having drunken sex!  Do you realize how rarely I get to do that!?

     The lamp on the other side of the street is flickering between light and dark.  Howling wind blows across the road and kicks up the dirt at my feet.  One by one, the windows go black as the few remaining everymen turn in for the night.  Except for that guy on the third floor, though.  Why do you keep going after my daughter?  Get your own for once!

     A field of stars twinkles in the sky up above.  I’m usually indoors this time of night, so it isn’t often I get to see them like this.  Like the far-off cities to the north, a sea of lights outside of a man’s wildest imaginations, sitting there in plain sight.  A miracle of the world, passed by without so much as a glance.

     28 minutes to midnight.  The Clock Tower of the Golden Witch shines just as bright as ever.  High above every other building in view, like a sparkling beacon to those prancing fuckwits in the shiny clothes.  Chances are they’re drunk as usual.  Golden drapes adorn the tower with a fine sheen, and if you looked closely enough you could see spots of blood on the walls, artifacts past of one of their crazy ‘games.’  You would be hard-pressed to find an actual corpse nearby, though.

     My blade rests firmly in its sheathe, tied to my waist and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.  Were this last month I’d have my gun as well, but some fuckwit decided to mess around with it and it blew up in his face.  My hair rests in front of my eyes (I hate those fucking haircuts) and my mustache rests upon my lips (I fucking hate shaving) like a migrant worm begging for warmth.  My body is covered in a black trenchcoat – useful for keeping out of view, but I’ve been standing here for so damn long my legs are going to snap if they don’t get to kick someone.  The rest of my clothes isn’t really worth mentioning – a brown shirt with long sleeves, and some black pants I bought last Christmas.  They’re sturdy and can take a punch, but aside from that aren’t really exceptional in any way.

     Footsteps.  Someone’s coming.

     I duck into the alleyway for a moment, and peer over the wall to get a good look.   A young man, about four years younger than me.  A brown coat like something out of a Sherlock movie and a black ponytail waving around behind his head.  Sweat drops from his face and his breath is in short spasms.  The kind of man who trips over his own shoelaces at least four times a day, then stops to tie them together in the middle of a barfight.

     Is that the informant?  He seems kind of small.  He’s wearing a red scarf like the informant said he would, but I can’t tell if he’s actually the one.  Where has he been all this time?

     “Karkhan!  Mr. Karkhan!”  The boy screams out into the night.  And then, he reels backwards and falls to the floor.

     Because I punched him in the face.  My fist reels back into position.

     “Rule number one.  Do not make me fucking wait.”  I look down at him two feet back, flailing around on the ground with blood coming out his nose.  The guy started squirming around like a worm burrowing back into the ground.  What the hell?  He’s starting to get up, but he still looks like something I’d have flushed down the toilet right now.

     “U-um…I would much prefer if you didn’t do that again, Mr. Karkhan.”  He said.  I step close and shove myself into his face.

     “Rule number two.  There are very few people who can call me by my last name, and you aren’t one of them.  I don’t want that shit spoken anywhere in a hundred miles from me.  Understood?”

      “Y-Yes, Raevan.  Understood.”

     If memory serves me, the kid’s name is Johnathan.  Johnathan Hendriat.  The guy couldn’t harm a fly if he tried and his only redeeming quality is how easily he can hop around without getting himself killed.  Our second time cooperating together since the start of the new year.  First time we ended up running around with some underground mafia conspiracy – his wife and daughter abandoned ship after I said the guy had died in a car accident, and wouldn’t you know it the guy shows up in a full-body cast at my doorstep a month later.  He has a knack for proving people wrong about that shit.  If you thought it was impossible, he’s probably done it.  And who needs the family, anyway?  His wife was even more of a shit than mine!

     “So, what is it?  I’ve been waiting here all day so you’d better make damn sure it’s important.  Feels like my balls are freezing off here.”  I mean that as literally as possible without putting my masculinity in danger.  It’s the middle of spring but for all I know it could start snowing any fucking second.

     “M-My apologies, I was deciphering the texts and didn’t notice the time, and then there was the dragon and my taxi was late-Anyway, come with me!  There isn’t much time left!”

     The kid runs off before I can grab him.  “What the hell are you talking about!?”  The shit talks so fast I can barely hear him, and he dashes down the alleyway like a rabid squirrel who just drank a lifetime supply of coke.

     “The dragon!  It’s here!”

     “Are you in middle school, you little shit?  Where are you going!?”

     Are you shitting me?  Are you fucking shitting me?  This is the kind of shit I tell my daughter so she doesn’t wander into the brothel!  What the hell is he talking about!?

     Johnathan runs up the steps to the fourth-story balconies.  The wood creaks and bends under our feet as we dash past.  The window drapes are blowing around in the air and clothes hung out to dry hangs above the streets below.    We’re making so much damn noise I’m surprised the whole city isn’t up in arms over us.

     “I’m serious!  It’s almost here!”  The kid’s eyes are lit up like a fucking lighthouse of all things.  “Could you stop running and tell me what the fuck it is you’re talking about!?”

     “I’m talking about a dragon!”  “THEY DON’T FUCKING EXIST, SHITHEAD!”  “Well you didn’t spend all night on those documents, did you?”  “I DON’T FUCKING CARE, THEY DON’T FUCKING EXIST!”

     The sound of the golden bells rings across the town.  The Clock Tower of the Golden Witch looms high into the sky.  Midnight has come, as the last remaining vestiges of the night fall into silence.  The stars shine brightly in the sky, brighter than anything human hands could ever have created.  Sparkling above like an incontainable force that, no matter how we may try, holds a power that cannot be held.

     April 17th, 12:00 AM.  Midnight.  It’s about this time that all the night owls head to bed, and all the brothels stop accepting new customers to give the overnight fuckers some peace.  The time where modern society loses its focus, and the world regresses to its most base form under the cover of the dark.  Nobody can hear your cries, and nobody can hear you scream.  Such is the nature of the depths of the night.

     A roar.  A terrifying howl from beasts unknown, unheard of by the reasoning of modern society.  Like the cry of a banshee the size of ten-thousand men, a titan unmatched by human potential.  A deep, penetrating roar that sends shockwaves through the city and would drive a mortal man to insanity.  A paralyzing chill runs through my spine like a single bullet, and the bones in my body tense up with an indescribable strength beyond mortal comprehension.

     “It’s here, it’s here, it’s here!”  Johnathan runs ahead like a toddler on Christmas morning.  That damn ponytail is fluttering about and his speed increases even faster than it was before.  Keep running, my body says to me.  If you don’t, you’ll miss the main event.  It cries out like a child desperate to satisfy his curiosity.  My feet run ahead with momentum far beyond my ability to stop it, as if the hands of fate itself have pushed me onto a path of no return.  It isn’t that our fate is pre-determined, it’s simply that our ignorance doesn’t allow us any other choices.

     And so, at long last.  Our tale has finally begun.

     The green beast rushes forth.  Emerald scales cover its body like the finest jewels, and its’ eyes a raging fire that has burned from the moment of its birth.  Great wings, each large enough to cover a two-story building, flap back and forth with an effortless motion.  Each gust of wind pushes it forward, flying through the air as an explosion of air blasts out behind it.  A single one would be enough to destroy a small building if the events of the night were not commanded to stay hidden.  The inhabitants of the town stay asleep in their beds, unaware of the majestic beast bursting forth right outside their doors.

     “Gangamamer.  The mythical beast of new beginnings.”  Johnathan’s voice is barely audible.  His eyes are transfixed too strongly to speak.

     The beast is real.  There’s no other explanation for this.  No figment of mere imagination could cause one’s body to tremble so strongly, to strike fear in one’s heart with such simple movements.  And yet, only something outside of our known reality could be so beautiful to begin with.  A blind man would call it a nightmare.  A deaf man would call it a treasure.  But nobody can ignore the beast’s immense power, at a scale unheard of by all of mortal society.

     The clock tower’s golden glow reflects off the creature’s  emerald skin.  Each individual scale a great emerald in its own right.  Even a single one could buy a small country if you found someone willing to purchase it.  The dragon rushes across the air with such speed, and yet there is not a scratch on a single one.  It deftly turns across the buildings, like the swiftest eagle in all the world, rushing across the town without so much as glancing the buildings with its’ skin.  I’m surprised we’re able to keep up.  We’re probably only able to see it because this isn’t anything more than a midnight stroll.  The thought that something could move even faster threatens to snap my mind in two, but no other explanation comes to mind no matter how hard I think.

     Gangamamer.  It’s here.  Right before our eyes.  A fucking dragon.  Can you believe this shit?  This is the kind of stuff people tell their kids so they don’t fuck something up.  Children’s tales, nothing more.  Lies and follies to get the little brats to behave instead of running around the city like mindless midgets.  It’s not supposed to even exist in the first place.  If you’re going to choose something to turn into a real thing, why not choose something easier?  Like a little fucking fairy that goes around flashing her tits to growing adolescents or a little elf that delivers beer to people’s houses?

     But this?  A fucking dragon, of all things?  What are you on?  Of all the mythical creatures in the land, this is the one you decide to bring to life?  A fucking DRAGON?  Did you smoke too much pot today, you little shit?  Did you leave your sanity at the door and lock yourself up with little girls until you found something that sounded like a good idea?

     The beast rushes forward.  With one final flap of its wings, it bursts into the air.  The dragon blasts into the sky, disappearing once more.  Faintly blinking off in the distance, until it joins the starts high up in the sky.

     I stop, and rest my feet.  How long was I running for?  I don’t know.  My vision is blurry and full of dust, and my ears ring and ring like there’s no end in sight.  It’s like I’m drowning in my own sweat with my legs threatening to snap in two if I take so much as another step.

     Johnathan plasters his body along the floor.  His fingers are twitching like they have a torrent of energy with nowhere to go.  His breathing is repetitive and loud, but his eyes haven’t dimmed since the moment we first laid eyes on it.  They’re twinkling like the brightest stars in the sky.

     I open my mouth after a few minutes’ rest.  “So, you little shit.  When the hell is that thing showing up again?”

     There’s a bit of time before his reply, caught between desperate breasts as he tries to fill his lungs.  “Don’t know yet.  It’ll be a long time before the whole document is deciphered.”

     “Well, see if you can sort it soon.  We’ll need it.”

     “Oh?  You actually took an interest in it?”  He genuinely looks kind of surprised.

     “Damn fucking straight, kid.”  I smirk.

 

     “We’re going to catch that bastard.  One way or another.”

     And so, the first night comes to an end.  Our story has begun.

 

As for Wondeffullyevil, the core problem is that, well, nothing's happening.  Frankly it's a bit difficult to read, because of two primary reasons that I can decipher, but most importantly is that there's nothing interesting going on.  Mostly exposition and telling everyone each other's names, but if this isn't the first page the reader sees (Unless this is some In Medias Res it probably isn't) then you don't need that exposition to understand the scene, and if it is then there's nothing interesting enough to keep them reading past the first paragraph.

 

Secondly is the lack of description, in that we can't even imagine the scene strongly enough to jump in.  Usually the reader is able to jump into the story's world because the descriptions give us a vector to enter it through our senses, but when they're lacking the story just becomes a jumbled mess of words as opposed to the illusion of a real world.  Just 'it's a graduation party' and 'they're sitting at a table and eating' isn't enough.  Sight, sound, smell, the way the wind blasts through an open window, maybe the rain hitting the ground or a crack of lightning, to the way the red velvet drapes hang down from the windows.  There's a fine line to be drawn in that too much description can slow down the pacing, but it's important.

 

Personally I'd cut the scene regardless of where it is in the story - if it's just before the conclusion then you just cut to the important part of the conclusion, if it's the first thing the reader sees then find a stronger scene to work from.

 

As an example of a first line,

 

 

 

 

Get the important details out of the way as soon as you can, but leave enough hidden that it draws the reader in with mystery.  Description is key.  Perhaps the scene takes place in a wine cellar of some sort, maybe there's a fancy ball/party going on upstairs.  Does the music reach this far down?  Could anyone above hear the scream?  Does the man have beads of sweat dripping down from his face?  Is he wounded himself?  How does he cover his tracks?  Maybe he lights a match and sets fire to the cellar?  Maybe a friend calls him and asks if he's okay, assuming and implying that Amy was trying to break up with the protagonist?  Maybe the conversation continues as he's running out of the building?  Maybe the fire causes an explosion?

 

Then maybe at the end of the scene, the viewpoint character ends up dead, and the rest of the characters end up having to solve both their murders at the start of the story.  Or something.

Link to post
Share on other sites
  • 2 weeks later...

@zodai

 

I love the use of vernacular here. Now, while I don't particularly like the main character, his narration reads very smoothly. I definitely got a unique voice. Nothing felt very showcase-y or stiff; he thinks and talks how a real person would think or talk. Great job!

 

Other thoughts:

  • Raevan is world's best name. 10/10, would name my kid Raevan.
  • Great handling of description. Not overloading, not stiff, but creates a good image in the mind.
  • Good usage of prose and offsetting long paragraphs with short ones.
  • I might normally make a comment on how the excerpt seems a bit disjointed or off, but in this case, it really contributes to a kind of quirky whimsical feel. If you were going for this feel, I say that you did a perfect job.

Anyways, just my thoughts.

 

I don't really write any fiction or scripts, but I write a ton of fanfiction. None of it's in a visual novel universe, though, so I'm not sure if I should post it here... I mainly write for Big Hero 6 and League of Legends.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Not sure what to say about this story, I wrote it for a class this year, and I'm not happy with the ending. Thought the assignement was much longer than it was and I had to make last minute cuts taking out most of it to fit the maximum number of pages. But let me know what you guys think.

http://slamerz.deviantart.com/art/Untitled-525312454?ga_submit_new=10%253A1428388447

Link to post
Share on other sites
 
 

Not sure what to say about this story, I wrote it for a class this year, and I'm not happy with the ending. Thought the assignement was much longer than it was and I had to make last minute cuts taking out most of it to fit the maximum number of pages. But let me know what you guys think.

http://slamerz.deviantart.com/art/Untitled-525312454?ga_submit_new=10%253A1428388447

 
If you don't mind, I'll attempt to edit this like EldritchCherub. I'll probably fail, but it's worth a try.

Waking up, such an odd sensation. (This statement feels weird. Is the persona saying that waking up is an odd sensation, or that he felt an odd sensation while waking up?) Laying there still on the edge of a dream, you remember small bits and pieces of the dream. (Who is "you"? I believe "one" is more appropriate. If you go with "one", then don't forget to change remember.) But, this is different somehow, I don’t remember anything, my head swims uncontrollably as a sort of haze seems to fade. Sitting up proves (to be) more difficult than it should, (and) my muscles ache as I force myself up. By the feel of it I must be laying on some sort of concrete, but I can’t seem to open my eyes. Lifting a hand to my eye lids I feel something crusted on them, (End sentence here. Capitalize "whatever") whatever it is, it’s thick enough that I have to actually pick it off small pieces at a time. Finally I force my right eye open, (End sentence here. Capitalize "the") the light is unbearable, but my vision quickly adjusts as I pick at my other eye. As the world comes into focus (add a comma here) I start to wish I’d stayed asleep.
 
The sky is an ashen red, filled with streaks of smoke thickly consuming (blocking) more and more of the light. Following the streaks down reveals the wasteland from which they originate. A scarred cityscape, cars and buildings left smashed, laden with scorch marks and heavy flames. The buildings and roads are missing large chunks which seem to have been blown away. (Suggestion: It was a city torn apart; its cars and building are left smashed, and its roads laden with scorch marks and heavy flames. Wherever you look, something was broken.) Crawling to (Suggestion: Getting on; crawling to feels like the persona's feet aren't attached and he crawls to them) my feet I start my painful walk. I’m not sure where it is that I’m going, and I can’t quite remember how it is that I got here. (This sentence is confusing with the word "here". I'm not sure where "here" is due to the way it is worded. If "here" is where the persona wakes up or the place in general, reverse the two clauses and change the conjunction to "so". If he means the place after walking, then separate this paragraph at the start of the sentence and change the conjunction to "so".) I remember screaming, bright white lights, and masks. (Change to semicolon, lowercase "Dark".) Dark reflective masks. (Due to how the last sentence is worded, I'm confused as to when this happens. During his "painful walk" or before losing consciousness?) There isn't much time to think as I’m (This is just a personal preference. Suggestion: I am) snapped back into reality by the screech of a jet as it flies over-top of (redundant) me. I can’t explain why, but I feel I should at least try to stay out of sight. 
 
The closest place to hide is an alley between a few of the buildings left standing, (End sentence here.) try as I might, my legs fail me as I try to run to the alley tripping on loose chunks of concrete and gravel. (Suggestion: But try as I might, I trip on chunks of concrete and gravel as I was trying to run to the alley.) I let out a small yell as I try to catch myself, only managing to keep my head from hitting the ground. Quickly I try to scramble back to my feet as I hear the voice of a young man, “I think I heard something over here.” He sounds close. I manage to get to my feet again as several people come jogging out from behind a building, each brandishing large guns. I freeze as they spot me, wondering if there is anything I can do. 
 
(New paragraph here since another character is talking.) A younger man in the group calls out to me (comma before quotation marks)“Are you hurt? Come with us, there is a shelter not far from here, it’s safe (there).” The other men after checking the sides of the street motion back to the building they had come from, (Suggestion: After checking the sides of the street, the other men return to the building they had come from.) a large group of people seemed to quickly flood out (From where?), there (they) were at least twenty. A mix (The group consisted) of women, children, and even a few elderly, all (of them) holding bags and luggage of all sort (pluralize this). Most are obviously wearing many layers of clothing.
 
“Who are you guys, what’s going on,(Use a question mark here)I asked. Hopefully they’d be able to shed some light on this whole thing. (This bit of narration is pretty much redundant, as asking already implies that.)
 
“I’m Kyle, (and) we’re the resistance. General Madock finally sent in the army,” He looked around the street quickly (before saying,) “We don’t have time to talk about it all (out) here,(period here) we've gotta get out of here.” He motioned me to join them. I couldn't really think it over,(period here, add "I" to next sentence) just nodded and made my way to the group. 
 
(New paragraph here) We traveled for almost (about) an hour, (yet) very few people said a word in this mass. With most to (I assume you mean "too" here.) afraid to speak, the only sounds that escaped were the occasional cries from a child that would cause the whole group to hold their breath as small whispers would calm them. The going was slow, (period here) our protectors (were) moving ahead in a group of five, scouting each road and building before allowing us to move forward. (I like the tension here.)
 
The guards they had with us at all times whispered to us  (Whispering feels mechanical and unnecessary. This needs to be more comforting. Suggestion: comforted us by saying) that the shelter was only 2 more blocks (add "away", and end sentence here) as we crossed a street (comma here)when we heard the roar of an engine. Shouts from our guards to get back, go back. Everyone panicked, some running (were trying to run) across the street, others scurrying (were trying to run) back to the previous building, everyone (but they were all just) bumping and knocking into each other. Once again I froze, watching this chaos, the inexperienced soldiers doing their best to get everyone out of sight as the large armored truck turned the corner, a large gun mounted to the top. (The detail of the scene is nice, but it's awkward to read. Suggestion: However, I, watching the inexperienced soldiers doing their best to get everyone out of sight as a large armored truck turned the corner with a large gun mounted on it, simply froze.) I heard no warnings, just (The flow of the sentence feels choppy, especially with the word "just". Suggestion: nothing but) the command to open fire, followed by screams as the large gun fired. I curled to a ball clenching my eyes shut, and feel a splitting pain in my head. Thoughts race through my mind as I scream from the pain, the most prominent being, I don’t want to die. (This scene needs tension, but the way you write feels like he's simply stating a fact. The reader needs to feel the scene. The sentence "I don't want to die," needs to stand out. The persona having thoughts other than, "I don't want to die," in this situation makes him feel calm too. Either make it his only thought, or elaborate on the others. Suggestion: I screamed from the pain. It hurts. I'm scared. Someone, please, help. I just... I just don't want to die.)
 
The world seemed to fall away (fall apart) as all audible sound fades, quickly being over powered by an overwhelming screech that rings through my head. (Is all audible sound fading then he hears an overwhelming screech? Or is the screech overpowering the audible sound?) I force my eyes open, looking at the soldiers (End sentence here.), most had left the truck to fire upon the crowd with their guns, leaving only one man in the vehicle manning the mounted gun. Odd specs of copper (from the guns) cover the air between the soldiers and I, (End sentence here.) each shot of the guns seems to add more specs to this quickly growing cloud. Though (As) my head feels like it could split down the middle (Add a semicolon here) I am only capable of simple thoughts. Go away! (This feels out of place within the narrative.) I found (out that) it was possible for me to feel more pain as a jolt of pain hammers behind my eye like a railroad spike. (Personal gripe: While this sentence illustrates the fact that the pain is that bad, the simile is probably enough.)
 
The truck jumped into the air, flying away tumbling uncontrollably through the air. (This is extremely superfluous. Too much "air" and flying already carries that connotation. Suggestion: The truck tumbled through the air.) Smashing (It smashes) into the ground (as) it rolls against the concrete, Crushing (lowercase c) the gunner who now flops about like a rag-doll as gems of ruby red liquid fly forth from him dripping forth onto the vehicle once its journey ends nearly a block away. (I like the description, but the result of that is pretty obvious, and does not need further depiction. It also slows down the story.)
 
The remaining soldiers in shock of (shocked soldiers watched) the truck taking motion look at the empty space where it once occupied, their gazes following its path then quickly jumping to me, (End sentence here.) some reloaded their guns, while the others started firing their weapons all fixed on me. (Suggestion: They all took aim at me.) Panic, fear, pain, muddled thoughts. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to, DIE! (The two sentences lacks flow, and the emphasis on "DIE!" is narmy. Suggestion: I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die!) Shots of pain strikes my brain as if the spike were being hammered over and over. With each blast of pain my vision dulls, with spots forming at the edge, but also with each blast came a fountain. A fountain of blood and flesh as each soldier burst to pieces, (was it) some sort of explosive? No (Impossible.) there were no flames, (and) no bullets hit them,(End sentence here.) their chests simply burst into pieces. Chunks of fresh flesh flung forth with warm red liquid coating all around. (Coating what? Stick with "spilling everywhere") The pain in my head starts to fade as I feel the ground growing closer, then a drop (What drop? He only falls in the next sentence.). Another wave of (Too wordy, and nothing happens to that wave. Stick to "I") panic as I plummet to the ground, barely catching myself as a wave of bullets fall to the ground clinging like bells as they make contact with the concrete. Was I, in the air, I can’t believe it. (I don't get why he thinks that way, really. I'd remove it, but I'm not even sure of the intention of this line. To fix it grammatically: "Was I in the air? I couldn't believe it.") The darkness and spots grow ever closer to the center of my vision as the pain nearly fully subsides(End sentence here) I wipe my face and gaze in shock at the fresh blood now coating it. An odd sense of confusion runs over me, (and) only one though (I assume you mean thought here?) runs through my mind as I feel my legs giving way and the darkness consumes my consciousness.
 
I won’t die.

These are simply suggestions, but I hope you take them into consideration.
 
A few points: 
I like the atmosphere set by the story. Right off the bat, you feel rather immersed in it by how odd it feels. You have a good description of the setting at first, and it stays throughout the story. The things I imagined were constant. I would've liked it if you explored the setting more, but given the length it's fine.
 
Your protagonist is your only character for the moment, and he interests me. It's mainly because I know absolutely nothing about him. He's clearly not some random guy either, so you want to know more about him. His reactions to things are nicely described, but at the same time, they're pretty generic, so I can't pin his personality down. I'm more interested in him as a plot device than a character so to say.
 
Contrary to your thoughts on it, I liked how it ended. Your descriptions gave the story a nice tension, and I like insanity a lot so it was a nice read. It also make you want a bit more. I'm interested in the cut off parts. Also, this feels like a part of something bigger which I want to read, but it's also okay on its own.
 
My main problem was your wording here though. I'm confused with a lot of things in there. All of it detailed in that spoiler tag. Precision of language is important, as inappropriate words can break immersion. Be clear about the scene and feelings of the character. Even the minor things. I feel like you lacked a lot of words here and there too. At times, it ruins the flow. The best example is this: "I’m not sure where it is that I’m going, and I can’t quite remember how it is that I got here. "
Like I said there, in context, I'm confused at when this happens. Namely, where is "here"? Also, does this happen while he starts walking, or a long time after that? The conjunction "and" also connects the two clauses without making it feel orderly.
 
Admittedly, I'm not that good at critiquing, so I'm sorry if my explanations are really vague.
And also, I'm sorry if my tone here is a bit... offensive here so to say. 
 
Overall, I liked it. 
Link to post
Share on other sites

This is a Kyou facfic of Clannad, happening roughly a couple of months after they got together.

 

I'm very hooked with Clannad right now, having played the game and watched the anime very very recently...  I like Nagisa I guess, mostly because of Ushio.

 

My favorite heroines by far are Tomoyo and Kyou.  Tomoyo's route was great and she got an after story too, so while I could probably never have enough of her, at least I'm satisfied.  

 

The greatest injustice was  committed with Kyou though.  She felt like the most natural pairing to Tomoya, but she never got her chance to truly shine. I loved her arc and OVA, but it wasn't enough by a long stretch.  Ever her own route was plagued by her sister's presence (I understand that was the conflict to overcome). Still after it was resolved I would have loved to see how they were together, i felt they deserved.

 

This is my humble attempt to rectify that.  It has no new drama attached whatsoever, other than recalling past events.  I just wanted them to have some fun together.

 

 As my first fanfic and also the first piece I've ever written.  I know it has plenty of mistakes, the tenses are probably are wrong. The story is set in present simple and sometimes the protagonist thinks of stuff that happened in the past.  I have no formal education in the English language, I'm not even a native speaker. I learned mostly from the internet and reading, When writing this my was guide mostly what I "felt" was right words.

Please, I'd love it if any of you guys could check to see what I did wrong and how can I improve.

 

Thanks!

This is only the first half of the chapter I intended to write, I have some parts of the other written but I thought I'd try and get some input before I continue.

 

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1HF6y9OwEjp8NohoJQWaMzt2JqrSJ2v3eSe4dU4SQTBI/edit?usp=sharing

Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

×
×
  • Create New...