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Deth
11-06-2005, 10:17 PM
A story I wrote for English, about 2000 words. Let me know what you think, but understand it still needs a bit of work.


It was a warm autumn day, with orange and yellow leaves falling to the ground. The sun was shining through bare and empty branches. Small, smoke thin clouds teased the morning sky, painting it with bits of red and purple. It was beautiful, yet it was horrible. Dave hated it. He hated all things happy, beautiful and pleasant. Dave longed to be alone in his dark and silent room. Instead he was forced to walk the bright, crowded and noisy streets of New York. He was growing tired of the brightly lit streets, but knew he would soon be at home in his room.

Dave entered the sixteen by sixteen foot room. It was located in the basement of his aunt’s house. He noticed the candles adding small spheres of light here and there. Some candles showed signs of being new, with only small bits of wax dipping down the side, and still being rather large. Others however were very old; sitting in pools of wax, and with each inch of was marked by the flames. Old hardbound books littered the floor, encircling a blood red pentagram located in the middle of the dark and morbid room. Dave had put the placed the candles based on there location to the pentagram. The shortest closest to it, the newer, taller ones in the back. Dave had drawn the pentagram correctly as well, from inside to out, left to right. He was no fool; he knew what he was doing. Or so he thought.

A young boy awoke to the sound of a scream. He knew the voice of who that scream belonged to. Someone he had not seen in years. It was the scream of a frightened female, some ones wife, and some ones mother. He looked down, only to see his black clothing replaced with baby blue pajamas, with cartoon monkeys placed randomly on them, with no particular pattern present. He looked around, observing his surrounds. He was in a child’s room. What child, he did not know. It all seemed as if it was from some distant memory. He felt as if he should recognize the room, with its light colored walls, and stuffed monkeys. The young boy swept the sleep from his eyes, and began to walk towards the scream. Beyond the door of the room lay a hallway. The hallway was bare and empty. The walls were black, and seemed as if they were not even there, as if the floor stopped, and beyond laid an empty and black abyss. The boy walked on, through the hallway. He was careful not to get too close to the edge of the floor. He looked behind himself, as to make sure he could return to the safety of the room if something bad was to happen. All that lay behind him was the same empty blackness as the walls. He heard another scream, one that sounded as like a plea for help. The boy turned back around. The hall had grown larger, and blood started to drip from the top of the walls, painting the non existent walls a crimson red. The young boy began to run. As he ran the blood started to poor faster. Soon it would reach the floor. Soon it would consume him. He ran faster. Suddenly he was at the door. It was open only a crack. He looked in. What he saw was a horrible sight. A man in his early thirties lie on the ground. Blood that poured from a slit in his throat collected on the floor. Strange and disgusting gurgling sounds emanated from his mouth. In his eyes, you could see he knew his unwelcomed fate. What he saw next was even more sick and twisted. Behind the dead body was a woman standing before a man covered in a black cloak. She was looking at him, covering her mouth. He placed a knife to her throat, and she fell to her knees, sobbing...

The alarm clock sounded, slayers "Angel of Death" blasted. Dave awoke with a start; he was sweating and shivering at the same time. He was cold, and could not understand why he was sweating. He brushed his coal black hair out if his cold blue eyes. He grabbed his backpack and headed out the door. He was again in the bright streets of New York. He sighed as he walked in the direction of the sun, which happened to be the direction of his school.

When Dave reached his desk located in the back of the room in his first period class, he opened his math book and began to work. He ignored the long and pointless lecture from the teacher and began working on the problems he knew would be assigned. He sat alone and worked. He did not socialize as did all the other kids. He did his work, and finished even before the "smart kids". When he was done he opened a black notebook and started to write.

About five minutes before his second period class ended, Dave looked out the window. He only looked quickly, but he swore he saw a little girl staring at him. When he looked back, the window was empty. He figured that child had been skipping school and had decided to come bug the highschoolers. He paid no attention to the sick feeling in his stomach.

Dave sat at the usual table far from anyone in the lunchroom. He looked at the floor, and stared at the green and white checkerboard pattern. He let his eyes cross, causing the pattern to blend into one blur of green and white. As he continued to do this, an image started to appear before his eyes. It was the little girl, with two bright eyes, pigtails, and an evil smile. Dave quickly uncrossed his eyes, and went to dump his food tray.

It was sixth period, the last class of the day. Dave was glad. Half way through the class, Dave turned to look at the clock, located above the door. He saw the girl, standing there in the doorway. She was smiling; she looked completely innocent, unlike last time. She looked at him, into his eyes. It was as if she was looking beyond his eyes, into his soul. He could feel her being poking at his being, probing his soul, reading it and studying it like a book. Her smile widened.

The girl spoke, " I hope for you sake you do not actually go through with what you plan to do. I'll have to punish you if you do."

Dave did not see her mouth move, but the words appeared in his head. The voice was innocent, too innocent. Dave shivered, and the girl was gone. She disappeared in the blink of an eye.

On the way home Dave was constantly tormented by the girl. Every couple minutes he would hear her whisper something, like "Don't do it", or "You'll regret it" He even caught glimpses of her, or saw her face on other people. This was making Dave mad, but he showed no signs of it, his face was completely blank.

Dave reached his aunt's house, opened the door to his room, and entered. The candles were all out, and the pentagram was gone. The books lay in a pile, in the back of the room.

"What the Hell." Dave said, as he looked upon his room, which had been contaminated by someone. His room had been touched by someone unworthy. Dave was mad.

He slammed the door shut. He grabbed his lighter off his bed and began to light the candles, moving some of them back to their current positions. After he was done, he grabbed a newer looking book out of the pile of old ragged ones, and took a razor off of his desk. He placed a cut on his wrist, placed perpendicular to the vein. He let the blood well up a bit, and then proceeded to redraw the pentagram. As he did this he recited words form the book he had laid on the floor. The words were not in English, and they seemed harsh and evil. When he was done, he wrapped his wrist with an old shirt.

"Stop, if you want to avoid pain." came a voice. The voice, the same one that had been tormenting him all day. Dave turned, only to see a few unlit candles.

Dave relit the candles for a second time. He then put away the book and the razor. He retrieved another book from the pile. He was forced to look for it though, since it was at the bottom. When he found it he began to search through the pages. When he reached the page he wanted, he grabbed a few things off his desk. He began to chant words from the book, all the while tossing the unknown objects into the middle of the pentagram. The pentagram started to glow with an evil shade of red. Several candles blew out as a wind without a source began to race through the room. Dave heard the voice, mocking him, telling him he was a fool, and would soon die. Dave did not listen. He continued the ritual. Suddenly he stopped, as did the evil glow and the wind.

"Fool!" Dave heard the voice say, though it was distant, as if the person speaking was running away. Dave heard a crack behind him, and turned around.

What stood before him was a terrible sight, death incarnate. It was a demon, a beast of death. The work of mans fears. It stood eight feet tall, and was hunched over, putting it closed fists on the ground. It had red skin stretched over a powerful yet skeletal body. Long deadly spikes extended from certain areas, such as the shoulders. This creature was the living image of the perfect killer. The glowing blood red eyes stared at Dave with the thirst of an animal before the kill.

"Hello David," It growled, its voice deep and distorted, "Have been doing well since our last encounter?"

Dave looked at the beast, his face blank and void of emotion. Even before this creature of doom, he hid his fear.

"Oh, so you do not remember me? I was the one you summoned from the depths of Hell."

Dave lost his inner strength, his fear was visible in his wide open eyes.

"Yes David, it is I. I am the one that killed you mother, and you father. You summoned me back, so you could kill me again. You wanted revenge, which you believe is rightfully yours. Well, as you can see, I am not the same. It seems Lucifer has come to appreciate my work. He has given me a rather high rank in his army. I have power far out of reach of any human. So, your want to kill me? Try it"

Dave just looked in horror, and started to back away from the mighty figure standing before him.

"What’s the matter David, scared?"
Dave hit what he thought was the door and felt for the handle. He grabbed the knob and turned. It was locked, he was dead.

"Poor David. You wanted to join the ranks of my master after you had killed me," The creature smiled, "so I'll take care of the ritual..."

The creature laughed as Dave felt himself being pulled towards it by some unseen force.

Dave screamed, but no one heard him... http://forums.3drealms.com/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/hhg.gif

Fiarok
11-07-2005, 03:44 AM
I haven't read all of it, in fact, most of it, and I'm trying really really hard not to be mean. From the first and second paragraphs, which is almost as far as I got, you describe too much. Too much backstory, too much sidetracking. Show, don't tell. The first sentence needs to pull your reader in, and this one doesn't do that. If you want your reader to know he drew the pentagram correctly, start the story with him drawing it, taking pains to be right, don't just cram it in there as part of a room desc. If I saw that desc walking around a MUD, I'd be pleased, the creator was detailed, let me see it. In a story I think, why the hell do I need to know that? If you want to describe the candles, describe them as he lights a few, don't just toss them in. Only give your reader what he needs, not what you want.

The one thing I'm really going to stress before I shut up is cut the fat. Like Twain says, everytime you wish to say 'very' write 'damn' your editor will delete it and the story will be as it should. While you don't have too much 'very' you've got too much desc. Note: If you describe the size of a room in footage, you've lost your reader. Footage doesn't convey emotion, it's meaningless. Large and barren, cramped, cozy, whatever, but not '16X16.' You're writing a story, not house plans.

Travis
11-07-2005, 04:12 AM
Fiarok said:
I haven't read all of it, in fact, most of it, and I'm trying really really hard not to be mean. From the first and second paragraphs, which is almost as far as I got, you describe too much. Too much backstory, too much sidetracking. Show, don't tell. The first sentence needs to pull your reader in, and this one doesn't do that. If you want your reader to know he drew the pentagram correctly, start the story with him drawing it, taking pains to be right, don't just cram it in there as part of a room desc. If I saw that desc walking around a MUD, I'd be pleased, the creator was detailed, let me see it. In a story I think, why the hell do I need to know that? If you want to describe the candles, describe them as he lights a few, don't just toss them in. Only give your reader what he needs, not what you want.

The one thing I'm really going to stress before I shut up is cut the fat. Like Twain says, everytime you wish to say 'very' write 'damn' your editor will delete it and the story will be as it should. While you don't have too much 'very' you've got too much desc. Note: If you describe the size of a room in footage, you've lost your reader. Footage doesn't convey emotion, it's meaningless. Large and barren, cramped, cozy, whatever, but not '16X16.' You're writing a story, not house plans.



Yeah.
I stopped reading at that 16x16 part.
I used to do stuff like that when I was quite young. Like I'd describe every single object in a house, and it was a habit. That was a weird stage.

I just read 'He sighed as he walked in the direction of the sun, which happened to be the direction of his school.' then, and that's another one of those unnecessary things.

The Baskinator
11-07-2005, 04:20 AM
Fiarok said:
I haven't read all of it, in fact, most of it, and I'm trying really really hard not to be mean. From the first and second paragraphs, which is almost as far as I got, you describe too much. Too much backstory, too much sidetracking. Show, don't tell. The first sentence needs to pull your reader in, and this one doesn't do that. If you want your reader to know he drew the pentagram correctly, start the story with him drawing it, taking pains to be right, don't just cram it in there as part of a room desc. If I saw that desc walking around a MUD, I'd be pleased, the creator was detailed, let me see it. In a story I think, why the hell do I need to know that? If you want to describe the candles, describe them as he lights a few, don't just toss them in. Only give your reader what he needs, not what you want.

The one thing I'm really going to stress before I shut up is cut the fat. Like Twain says, everytime you wish to say 'very' write 'damn' your editor will delete it and the story will be as it should. While you don't have too much 'very' you've got too much desc. Note: If you describe the size of a room in footage, you've lost your reader. Footage doesn't convey emotion, it's meaningless. Large and barren, cramped, cozy, whatever, but not '16X16.' You're writing a story, not house plans.



Some good points here, though I have to disagree about cutting out description. Some writers use heavy description as part of an individual style. (Stephen King is very verbose and long-winded in his descriptions, and obviously people get into that, what with those gazillion dollar book advances.)

When you go over and proof-read your work, you'll naturally cut things out or add to them, but I wouldn't make it a point to trim your descriptions unless something stands out that you don't like. Trimming the fat is fine if the fat is bad.

I don't like to tell writers what they should and shouldn't do, aside from technical issues (grammar, punctuation, spelling). But if you'd like a suggestion to spice-up your description, I think adding more simile and metaphor to it would be nice.

For instance, Fiarok is right about describing the room as "sixteen by sixteen foot" being boring. Rather than relying on the measurement of the room, describe the size with a comparison to something else.

You're on the right track. Just keep writing and keep reading. Sometimes it helps to develop a writing style by reading (and really studying) authors with styles you already dig. Look at how your favorite writers describe things. What methods do they employ? Are they short on description, high on emotion? The opposite?

All in all, Fiarok said it best: Show, don't tell.

Fiarok
11-07-2005, 04:31 AM
The Baskinator said:
[...T]hough I have to disagree about cutting out description. Some writers use heavy description as part of an individual style. (Stephen King is very verbose and long-winded in his descriptions, and obviously people get into that, what with those gazillion dollar book advances.)



I suppose I need to clarify, I don't mean cut out all description, and in fact most of his description could stay if it was describing action or something that came about due to action. Detail can be a God, but like a God it must be revered and treated with respect, invoking him when unneccesary makes him behave like Satan.

If you interupt or ignore action for descriptions just to describe, there is no purpose. Only describe things that will be used or that set the mood, and if they set the mood, don't just mention them, make the sentence fit the mood.

For instance, IMO, a good way to set the candles into the scene would be to set the POV from a candle. Yes, you heard me, anthropomorphise a goddamn candle. Give it emotion, make the wax running down it torture, or it it's a romantic candle, make the wax like a lover's kiss. Remember, romance the detail, don't just f*ck it raw.

Sorry for my unclear first post, it's just that I tend to have little patience.

The Baskinator
11-07-2005, 04:44 AM
Fiarok said:

The Baskinator said:
[...T]hough I have to disagree about cutting out description. Some writers use heavy description as part of an individual style. (Stephen King is very verbose and long-winded in his descriptions, and obviously people get into that, what with those gazillion dollar book advances.)



I suppose I need to clarify, I don't mean cut out all description, and in fact most of his description could stay if it was describing action or something that came about due to action. Detail can be a God, but like a God it must be revered and treated with respect, invoking him when unneccesary makes him behave like Satan.

If you interupt or ignore action for descriptions just to describe, there is no purpose. Only describe things that will be used or that set the mood, and if they set the mood, don't just mention them, make the sentence fit the mood.

For instance, IMO, a good way to set the candles into the scene would be to set the POV from a candle. Yes, you heard me, anthropomorphise a goddamn candle. Give it emotion, make the wax running down it torture, or it it's a romantic candle, make the wax like a lover's kiss. Remember, romance the detail, don't just f*ck it raw.

Sorry for my unclear first post, it's just that I tend to have little patience.



Perfectly understandable. And the POV thing is an interesting idea. As an exercise in fiction, I once wrote a page from the perspective of my computer. It wasn't very good, but it was fun (and humorous) to try.

It bothers me, in some ways, that fiction has become a big experiment, leading novice writers to feel they can get away with anything. Experimentalism isn't an excuse to avoid improving upon one's style.

Not that Daniel has done this, or will do this. It's just one of my pet peeves that came to mind when we started talking about description. A writer could, theoretically, shoot back with some ridiculous explanation about flat description being hyperrealistic. Yeah, right.

I wouldn't say I'm a traditionalist, but that sort of thing definitely gets an eye-roll from me. It basically removes anyone's right to critique a piece of writing.

Except for publishers. They can basically tell you that you suck. http://forums.3drealms.com/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/tongue.gif And that's why I'm a small-press publishing minor . . .

Fiarok
11-07-2005, 05:01 AM
Actually editors get to tell writer's they suck, too. http://forums.3drealms.com/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif

I understand your dislike of experimentalisation in fiction, but it can create beautiful works when used appropriately, although the staggering amount of misuse it gets could make anyone hate it. (Used to be on devart as a written artist, and my god, the sort of things some people did with words on that site made me want to stab out my eyes at times.)

Anyway, on a positive note, this thread has made me realize that I've recently been lacking in both reading and writing. Haven't read a book in about a month and haven't written anything in much longer.

*goes off to start in on his 'book' that's been left sitting in a poor directory for nearly 6 months* Looking back it's sort of an affront to the characters, they're so vivid in my head, I feel mildly like I've betrayed them by ignoring them. That's nothing to do with this thread, though...

The Baskinator
11-07-2005, 05:08 AM
Fiarok said:
Actually editors get to tell writer's they suck, too. http://forums.3drealms.com/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif

I understand your dislike of experimentalisation in fiction, but it can create beautiful works when used appropriately, although the staggering amount of misuse it gets could make anyone hate it. (Used to be on devart as a written artist, and my god, the sort of things some people did with words on that site made me want to stab out my eyes at times.)

Anyway, on a positive note, this thread has made me realize that I've recently been lacking in both reading and writing. Haven't read a book in about a month and haven't written anything in much longer.

*goes off to start in on his 'book' that's been left sitting in a poor directory for nearly 6 months* Looking back it's sort of an affront to the characters, they're so vivid in my head, I feel mildly like I've betrayed them by ignoring them. That's nothing to do with this thread, though...



Ah, and editors are integral to publishing. http://forums.3drealms.com/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/wink.gif I'm actually studying to become one, myself. Oh, it is such fun. http://forums.3drealms.com/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif

I totally agree about it being great when used correctly. Some of the experimental fiction contests that crop up get incredible entries. I'm too intimidated to participate.

DevArt. I know exactly what you mean. I had to stop reading fiction posted there. It just hurt too much. (The poetry was the worst. Poetry is such a complex art. Few people are good at it, but tons of people think they are. Yuck.)

Fiarok
11-07-2005, 05:28 AM
The Baskinator said:
DevArt. I know exactly what you mean. I had to stop reading fiction posted there. It just hurt too much. (The poetry was the worst. Poetry is such a complex art. Few people are good at it, but tons of people think they are. Yuck.)



I was a poet there http://forums.3drealms.com/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif

And I was one of the people that only thought I was good. http://forums.3drealms.com/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif

God I'm glad I deleted it all when I went.

Oh, and about you studying to become an editor: Have you swam through a slush pile yet? God, when I hear about the interns at Tor, I alternate between wanting to be one (slush-drunk and sprawled laughing on the pile sounds fun as hell) and thinking "God am I glad I'm not them"