Welcome to Gaia! ::

Gravity Killer 's avatar

Witty Prophet

6,650 Points
  • Dressed Up 200
  • Brandisher 100
  • Team Jacob 100
It was a full moon that night, but the five teenagers that gathered in the woods could not see the bright night-light underneath the thick tangle of tree-limbs and leafs. They were a bit of an odd-bunch, almost walking stereotypes of their high school cliques; Punk Boy and Punk Girl, Goth Chick, Sick Kid and the Wallflower. But this was far from the Breakfast Club. They kept a far distance from each other, with the exception of the two punks who clung to each other with drunken smiles slapped onto their faces. Goth Chick pointed at a part of the forest floor. Impishly Punk Girl pulled out a spray can from her boyfriend’s jacket and burned bright red pentagram where the Goth Chick had pointed. She handed right back when she was finished, and the spray can disappeared into Punk Boy’s over-sized military coat.

“Sit on each point of the star.” Goth Chick commanded and her companions scrambled to do so. She was about to take her position, but a noise in the bushes caught her attention. She strained her eyes to find the source, but when her search yielded no fruit, she returned to the task at hand. She knelt reverently and the others copied, the Punk Girl giggling and she went down. Goth Chick shot her a dirty look to make her be quiet. She looked at each of them; the grieving daughter, the terminally ill boy, the two outcast of society and her; the witch. Each were very different but united by a common fear; death. It had taken one conversation, one trip to an out of the way bookstore to bring them to this spot. Tonight they were going to defy what was thought to be the greatest unbreakable law in all of existence.

The Punk Boy pulled out a syringe from some part of his jacket and the group passed it ceremoniously till it fell into the lap of the Sick Kid. His pale thin hands shakily picked it up; his wide eyes darted back and forth to each of them. The witch nodded comfortingly and with one swift plunge, he injected the poison into his veins.

He slumped over.

They made quick work of the next step; the witch beginning the chants while the others tried to follow along as best they could.

“Dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro.”

They went on and on, their voices rising in concentration and effort till they went hoarse from the strain. The corpse amongst them did not stir.

“Did we do something wrong?” the Wallflower asked.

“Nah,” The Punk Boy replied. “She’s a fake!”

The witch simply bowed her head and allowed the others to grumble and then slowly walk away from the circle. Soon it was just her and the corpse in the quiet night. She waited, staring intensely at the small form. It twitched and then began to sit up.

“Fools.” The witch and the body whispered at the same time.

Two figures huddled in the shadows of a dark alley somewhere in town. They broke apart after some time and the Punk Girl’s voice whispered. “Do you think the police will come looking for us?”
“Nah,” replied the Punk Boy.” They’ll think it was a weird suicide or that witch did them in.”

“What about the syringe?”

“Wiped it clean.”

“You’re so smart.”

The two returned to clinging to each other but stopped when as a third, darker shadow covered them. The boy looked up and frightened pulled his pocket knife out of his pocket.

“You’re supposed to be dead! “ He whispered hoarsely.

The Wallflower pulled her body through her body through her bedroom window, tears threatening to fall. She had been such a fool to believe all those lies. She spotted at the crucifix that hung over her bed and looked away guiltily. That poor boy… She thought and sat down on the corner of her mattress and stared at the floor, her overwhelming sadness swallowing her into the edge of comatose.

Her door cracked open in a wild head of hair peered in through the slit.

“I see you; I see what you have done!” It whispered. It was her older sister, restricted to the house due to her paranoid schizophrenia that had robbed her of all her senses. “You do bad things! Confess! Confess to God!”

“Shut up!” The Wallflower nearly shouted. “Bad things have happened to me! And don’t you start on that religious crap! It was your fault Dad died in the crash! Your fault, we’re dirt poor from paying for all your medications! Why doesn’t Mom just dump you in some home and be done with it?”

The older woman backed away from the door, still muttering under her breath till she disappeared back to the shadows. The girl leaned back on her bed and sobbed into the sheets. A voice whispered and she shot up; thinking her sister had returned. She prepared to start her tirade anew but stopped short when she saw who stood before her. His skinny pale form stood out in the dark room. He smiled gleefully.

“You’re alive!” she whispered excitedly. “It worked!”

“Yes it did!” he replied. “It just took a minute and guess what! I have powers; I can fly!”

“Really? We have to tell the group!”

“I already did. They are all waiting in the woods. Come on and we’ll join them!” He extended a skeletal hand. She took it and was lead to a still open window. She stopped and protested. “But we’ll, we’ll-“

“I can fly, remember?”

She stopped and though for a moment and allowed herself to be lead again. Slowly he went through the window; she followed. Out onto the porch roof they marched until they reached the edge. The boy floated out in space still holding her hand. She looked at the ground; the doubt returning to her tear-stained face. But she looked up and the floating entity before her and she floated up with him.

She didn’t notice her body falling.

In the woods, a girl lies crumpled on the forest floor, a syringe sticking out of her arm and the widest smile on her face; five feet away lay the body of a cancer victim. In an alley two figures; a boy and a girl hold each other and a girl hold each other. They look nearly peaceful but for the thin ribbon of red on each neck. In a neighborhood, a broken body of a girl lies in front of a house. In the window above, a woman screams, her crazed ranting drowned out by sirens that approach the scene of the crime.

Above the entire city, Death floats gracefully. Tucking five souls underneath its coat, it disappears into the fading black as dawn appears on the horizon.
******** sweet, I can tell you tried at this. Line-by-line review follows.

Gravity Killer
It was a full moon that night, but the five teenagers that gathered in the woods could not see the bright night-light underneath the thick tangle of tree-limbs and leafs. A bit of a long sentence, but you effectively set up the scene and characters in one sentence. Good going. They were a bit of an odd-bunch, almost walking stereotypes of their high school cliques; Punk Boy and Punk Girl, Goth Chick, Sick Kid and the Wallflower. But this was far from the Breakfast Club. Nice. You acknowledge that the characters individual personalities aren't important at the moment and skip over them while still establishing who they could be based on co,mon portrayals. And in stead of making filler characters, you joke about them as throw-aways. They kept a far distance from each other, with the exception of the two punks who clung to each other with drunken smiles slapped onto their faces. Goth Chick pointed at a part of the forest floor. Impishly Punk Girl pulled out a spray can from her boyfriend’s jacket and burned bright red pentagram where the Goth Chick had pointed. She handed right back when she was finished, and the spray can disappeared into Punk Boy’s over-sized military coat.

“Sit on each point of the star.” Goth Chick commanded and her companions scrambled to do so. She was about to take her position, but a noise in the bushes caught her attention. She strained her eyes to find the source, but when her search yielded no fruit, Maybe, "but there was nothing, she dismissed it" in stead, or something like that? It just seems a bit drawn out. she returned to the task at hand. She knelt reverently and the others copied, the Punk Girl giggling and as? she went down. Goth Chick shot her a dirty look to make her be quiet. She looked at each of them; the grieving daughter, the terminally ill boy, the two outcast of society and her; the witch. Each were very different but united by a common fear; death. It had taken one conversation, one trip to an out of the way bookstore to bring them to this spot. Tonight they were going to defy what was thought to be the greatest unbreakable law in all of existence.

The Punk Boy pulled out a syringe from some part of his jacket and the group passed it ceremoniously till it fell into the lap of the Sick Kid. His pale thin hands shakily picked it up; his wide eyes darted back and forth to each of them. The witch nodded comfortingly and with one swift plunge, he injected the poison into his veins.

Eh, see you missed a great opportunity to drive up the tension. Maybe he's sweating a lot, maybe he can barely hold the syringe at the thought of what he's going to do. You make it sound like he's picking salad over soup "Oh, guess I'll kill myself now" Like that. Even if he made the decision a year ago, it would still take some time to make it happen at the moment. Perhaps everyone stares at him, but nobody says a thing, the drunks even go quiet, sobered by what's happening. Maybe he convulses a bit, or coughs, clutches his heart. Maybe he screams a bit, breaking the silence and just freaking the ******** out of everyone, really shocking them with what they're doing. Seriously, this could be a BIG scene and you breezed right through it.

He slumped over.

They made quick work of the next step; the witch beginning the chants while the others tried to follow along as best they could. Seriously, you have GOT to make the kid's death have impact. They just walked into the woods and a kid injected himself with poison and died, and they just start chanting like hey're cheering for the football team?

“Dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro.” Lord restore the dead? Just curious.

They went on and on, their voices rising in concentration and effort till they went hoarse from the strain. The corpse amongst them did not stir.

“Did we do something wrong?” the Wallflower asked.

“Nah,” The Punk Boy replied. “She’s a fake!”

The witch simply bowed her head and allowed the others to grumble and then slowly walk away from the circle. Soon it was just her and the corpse in the quiet night. She waited, staring intensely at the small form. It twitched and then began to sit up.

“Fools.” The witch and the body whispered at the same time.

Break this up a bit, to show the scene change. I like to put three asterisks with spaces in between in the middle of the page between a scene or major time break with no transition. You can use lots of things, though.

Two figures huddled in the shadows of a dark alley somewhere in town. They broke apart after some time and the Punk Girl’s voice whispered. “Do you think the police will come looking for us?”
“Nah,” replied the Punk Boy.” They’ll think it was a weird suicide or that witch did them in.”

“What about the syringe?”

“Wiped it clean.”

“You’re so smart.” Maybe she hugs on his arm and holds closer to him as she says it?

The two returned to clinging to each other but stopped when as a third, darker shadow covered them. The boy looked up and frightened pulled his pocket knife out of his pocket. You can do better, describe him as being scared.

“You’re supposed to be dead! “ He whispered hoarsely.

The Wallflower pulled her body through her body through Doubled this her bedroom window, tears threatening to fall. She had been such a fool to believe all those lies. She spotted at the crucifix that hung over her bed and looked away guiltily. That poor boy… She thought and sat down on the corner of her mattress and stared at the floor, her overwhelming sadness swallowing her into the edge of comatose. I know you can describe this better. Show her obviously hurt by what she's witnessed. Maybe she vomits just at the thought of it? Overwhelming sadness is good to describe what she feels, but does little to give it impact.

Her door cracked open in a wild head of hair peered in through the slit.

“I see you; I see what you have done!” It whispered. It was her older sister, restricted to the house due to her paranoid schizophrenia that had robbed her of all her senses. “You do bad things! Confess! Confess to God!”

“Shut up!” The Wallflower nearly shouted. “Bad things have happened to me! And don’t you start on that religious crap! It was your fault Dad died in the crash! Your fault, we’re dirt poor from paying for all your medications! Why doesn’t Mom just dump you in some home and be done with it?”

The older woman backed away from the door, still muttering under her breath till she disappeared back to the shadows. I thought this was her older sister? How old is she? Who's at the door again? The girl leaned back on her bed and sobbed into the sheets. A voice whispered and she shot up; thinking her sister had returned. She prepared to start her tirade anew but stopped short when she saw who stood before her. His skinny pale form stood out in the dark room. He smiled gleefully.

“You’re alive!” she whispered excitedly. “It worked!” Whoa, whoa, no, she should be freaked the ******** out. If I saw a dead kid in my room, I'd be a little concerned.

“Yes it did!” he replied. “It just took a minute and guess what! I have powers; I can fly!” s**t, what are you doing? You were setting this up for grim horror, now I can't help picturing the boy in green tights with red hair. Personally I'm picturing him smiling a grin so big it's inhuman, face caked with mud, clothes ripped or gone entirely, maybe one of his arms doesn't work anymore and just hangs freely.

“Really? We have to tell the group!”

“I already did. They are all waiting in the woods. Come on and we’ll join them!” He extended a skeletal hand. She took it and was lead to a still open window. She stopped and protested. “But we’ll, we’ll-“

“I can fly, remember?”

She stopped and though for a moment and allowed herself to be lead again. Slowly he went through the window; she followed. Out onto the porch roof they marched until they reached the edge. The boy floated out in space still holding her hand. She looked at the ground; the doubt returning to her tear-stained face. But she looked up and the floating entity before her and she floated up with him.

She didn’t notice her body falling.

In the woods, a girl lies crumpled on the forest floor, a syringe sticking out of her arm and the widest smile on her face; five feet away lay the body of a cancer victim. In an alley two figures; a boy and a girl hold each other and a girl hold each other. They look nearly peaceful but for the thin ribbon of red on each neck. In a neighborhood, a broken body of a girl lies in front of a house. In the window above, a woman screams, her crazed ranting drowned out by sirens that approach the scene of the crime. See, now you're back to what I pictured from the start, but that bit earlier REALLY pulled me out of it.

Above the entire city, Death floats gracefully. Tucking five souls underneath its coat, it disappears into the fading black as dawn appears on the horizon. So, it's not the kid? Personally I think it should be seen as the kid's soul, maybe corrupted by the suicide, or the malicious intent, or the ritual, or all of them. Rather than make it the generic death, make it the kid. That makes it more personal.


I berated you more than I thought I would, but it's because I liked where you were going and how you got there, you've just got to spice it up a bit. Really make each scene gripping, not just a stepping stone to the finale. I said the "I can fly" bit was jarring, but I can't think of another way for him to get her to fall... Also, it's implied she climbed into the window. I see it as being at the second story. I don't know if falling out a second story window would really kill her. Broken bones perhaps. Maybe she climbs up to the roof for some alone time, he creeps up behind her, she feels a cold hand on her shoulder. He never says he can fly, she just sees him hanging there. Less floating, more puppet on strings, but a few are cut, so it doesn't look quite right. He takes her hand, says it'll be okay, she falls off. Same end, personally I think it's a better execution. I don't mean to insult, though, just how I'd do it. There's a bunch of ways. Good story, I liked it.
Gravity Killer 's avatar

Witty Prophet

6,650 Points
  • Dressed Up 200
  • Brandisher 100
  • Team Jacob 100
I'm just glad someone finally bloody read this...

Some of the things you mentioned I had already spotted and fixed, the grammar errors, the sister and the separating of the parts, but the rest I didn't, so I definitely get on that right away.


ArmasTermin
******** sweet, I can tell you tried at this. Line-by-line review follows.

Gravity Killer
It was a full moon that night, but the five teenagers that gathered in the woods could not see the bright night-light underneath the thick tangle of tree-limbs and leafs. A bit of a long sentence, but you effectively set up the scene and characters in one sentence. Good going. They were a bit of an odd-bunch, almost walking stereotypes of their high school cliques; Punk Boy and Punk Girl, Goth Chick, Sick Kid and the Wallflower. But this was far from the Breakfast Club. Nice. You acknowledge that the characters individual personalities aren't important at the moment and skip over them while still establishing who they could be based on co,mon portrayals. And in stead of making filler characters, you joke about them as throw-aways. They kept a far distance from each other, with the exception of the two punks who clung to each other with drunken smiles slapped onto their faces. Goth Chick pointed at a part of the forest floor. Impishly Punk Girl pulled out a spray can from her boyfriend’s jacket and burned bright red pentagram where the Goth Chick had pointed. She handed right back when she was finished, and the spray can disappeared into Punk Boy’s over-sized military coat.

“Sit on each point of the star.” Goth Chick commanded and her companions scrambled to do so. She was about to take her position, but a noise in the bushes caught her attention. She strained her eyes to find the source, but when her search yielded no fruit, Maybe, "but there was nothing, she dismissed it" in stead, or something like that? It just seems a bit drawn out. she returned to the task at hand. She knelt reverently and the others copied, the Punk Girl giggling and as? she went down. Goth Chick shot her a dirty look to make her be quiet. She looked at each of them; the grieving daughter, the terminally ill boy, the two outcast of society and her; the witch. Each were very different but united by a common fear; death. It had taken one conversation, one trip to an out of the way bookstore to bring them to this spot. Tonight they were going to defy what was thought to be the greatest unbreakable law in all of existence.

The Punk Boy pulled out a syringe from some part of his jacket and the group passed it ceremoniously till it fell into the lap of the Sick Kid. His pale thin hands shakily picked it up; his wide eyes darted back and forth to each of them. The witch nodded comfortingly and with one swift plunge, he injected the poison into his veins.

Eh, see you missed a great opportunity to drive up the tension. Maybe he's sweating a lot, maybe he can barely hold the syringe at the thought of what he's going to do. You make it sound like he's picking salad over soup "Oh, guess I'll kill myself now" Like that. Even if he made the decision a year ago, it would still take some time to make it happen at the moment. Perhaps everyone stares at him, but nobody says a thing, the drunks even go quiet, sobered by what's happening. Maybe he convulses a bit, or coughs, clutches his heart. Maybe he screams a bit, breaking the silence and just freaking the ******** out of everyone, really shocking them with what they're doing. Seriously, this could be a BIG scene and you breezed right through it.

He slumped over.

They made quick work of the next step; the witch beginning the chants while the others tried to follow along as best they could. Seriously, you have GOT to make the kid's death have impact. They just walked into the woods and a kid injected himself with poison and died, and they just start chanting like hey're cheering for the football team?

“Dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro.” Lord restore the dead? Just curious.

They went on and on, their voices rising in concentration and effort till they went hoarse from the strain. The corpse amongst them did not stir.

“Did we do something wrong?” the Wallflower asked.

“Nah,” The Punk Boy replied. “She’s a fake!”

The witch simply bowed her head and allowed the others to grumble and then slowly walk away from the circle. Soon it was just her and the corpse in the quiet night. She waited, staring intensely at the small form. It twitched and then began to sit up.

“Fools.” The witch and the body whispered at the same time.

Break this up a bit, to show the scene change. I like to put three asterisks with spaces in between in the middle of the page between a scene or major time break with no transition. You can use lots of things, though.

Two figures huddled in the shadows of a dark alley somewhere in town. They broke apart after some time and the Punk Girl’s voice whispered. “Do you think the police will come looking for us?”
“Nah,” replied the Punk Boy.” They’ll think it was a weird suicide or that witch did them in.”

“What about the syringe?”

“Wiped it clean.”

“You’re so smart.” Maybe she hugs on his arm and holds closer to him as she says it?

The two returned to clinging to each other but stopped when as a third, darker shadow covered them. The boy looked up and frightened pulled his pocket knife out of his pocket. You can do better, describe him as being scared.

“You’re supposed to be dead! “ He whispered hoarsely.

The Wallflower pulled her body through her body through Doubled this her bedroom window, tears threatening to fall. She had been such a fool to believe all those lies. She spotted at the crucifix that hung over her bed and looked away guiltily. That poor boy… She thought and sat down on the corner of her mattress and stared at the floor, her overwhelming sadness swallowing her into the edge of comatose. I know you can describe this better. Show her obviously hurt by what she's witnessed. Maybe she vomits just at the thought of it? Overwhelming sadness is good to describe what she feels, but does little to give it impact.

Her door cracked open in a wild head of hair peered in through the slit.

“I see you; I see what you have done!” It whispered. It was her older sister, restricted to the house due to her paranoid schizophrenia that had robbed her of all her senses. “You do bad things! Confess! Confess to God!”

“Shut up!” The Wallflower nearly shouted. “Bad things have happened to me! And don’t you start on that religious crap! It was your fault Dad died in the crash! Your fault, we’re dirt poor from paying for all your medications! Why doesn’t Mom just dump you in some home and be done with it?”

The older woman backed away from the door, still muttering under her breath till she disappeared back to the shadows. I thought this was her older sister? How old is she? Who's at the door again? The girl leaned back on her bed and sobbed into the sheets. A voice whispered and she shot up; thinking her sister had returned. She prepared to start her tirade anew but stopped short when she saw who stood before her. His skinny pale form stood out in the dark room. He smiled gleefully.

“You’re alive!” she whispered excitedly. “It worked!” Whoa, whoa, no, she should be freaked the ******** out. If I saw a dead kid in my room, I'd be a little concerned.

“Yes it did!” he replied. “It just took a minute and guess what! I have powers; I can fly!” s**t, what are you doing? You were setting this up for grim horror, now I can't help picturing the boy in green tights with red hair. Personally I'm picturing him smiling a grin so big it's inhuman, face caked with mud, clothes ripped or gone entirely, maybe one of his arms doesn't work anymore and just hangs freely.

“Really? We have to tell the group!”

“I already did. They are all waiting in the woods. Come on and we’ll join them!” He extended a skeletal hand. She took it and was lead to a still open window. She stopped and protested. “But we’ll, we’ll-“

“I can fly, remember?”

She stopped and though for a moment and allowed herself to be lead again. Slowly he went through the window; she followed. Out onto the porch roof they marched until they reached the edge. The boy floated out in space still holding her hand. She looked at the ground; the doubt returning to her tear-stained face. But she looked up and the floating entity before her and she floated up with him.

She didn’t notice her body falling.

In the woods, a girl lies crumpled on the forest floor, a syringe sticking out of her arm and the widest smile on her face; five feet away lay the body of a cancer victim. In an alley two figures; a boy and a girl hold each other and a girl hold each other. They look nearly peaceful but for the thin ribbon of red on each neck. In a neighborhood, a broken body of a girl lies in front of a house. In the window above, a woman screams, her crazed ranting drowned out by sirens that approach the scene of the crime. See, now you're back to what I pictured from the start, but that bit earlier REALLY pulled me out of it.

Above the entire city, Death floats gracefully. Tucking five souls underneath its coat, it disappears into the fading black as dawn appears on the horizon. So, it's not the kid? Personally I think it should be seen as the kid's soul, maybe corrupted by the suicide, or the malicious intent, or the ritual, or all of them. Rather than make it the generic death, make it the kid. That makes it more personal.


I berated you more than I thought I would, but it's because I liked where you were going and how you got there, you've just got to spice it up a bit. Really make each scene gripping, not just a stepping stone to the finale. I said the "I can fly" bit was jarring, but I can't think of another way for him to get her to fall... Also, it's implied she climbed into the window. I see it as being at the second story. I don't know if falling out a second story window would really kill her. Broken bones perhaps. Maybe she climbs up to the roof for some alone time, he creeps up behind her, she feels a cold hand on her shoulder. He never says he can fly, she just sees him hanging there. Less floating, more puppet on strings, but a few are cut, so it doesn't look quite right. He takes her hand, says it'll be okay, she falls off. Same end, personally I think it's a better execution. I don't mean to insult, though, just how I'd do it. There's a bunch of ways. Good story, I liked it.
Gravity Killer 's avatar

Witty Prophet

6,650 Points
  • Dressed Up 200
  • Brandisher 100
  • Team Jacob 100
ArmasTermin
******** sweet, I can tell you tried at this. Line-by-line review follows.

Gravity Killer
It was a full moon that night, but the five teenagers that gathered in the woods could not see the bright night-light underneath the thick tangle of tree-limbs and leafs. A bit of a long sentence, but you effectively set up the scene and characters in one sentence. Good going. They were a bit of an odd-bunch, almost walking stereotypes of their high school cliques; Punk Boy and Punk Girl, Goth Chick, Sick Kid and the Wallflower. But this was far from the Breakfast Club. Nice. You acknowledge that the characters individual personalities aren't important at the moment and skip over them while still establishing who they could be based on co,mon portrayals. And in stead of making filler characters, you joke about them as throw-aways. They kept a far distance from each other, with the exception of the two punks who clung to each other with drunken smiles slapped onto their faces. Goth Chick pointed at a part of the forest floor. Impishly Punk Girl pulled out a spray can from her boyfriend’s jacket and burned bright red pentagram where the Goth Chick had pointed. She handed right back when she was finished, and the spray can disappeared into Punk Boy’s over-sized military coat.

“Sit on each point of the star.” Goth Chick commanded and her companions scrambled to do so. She was about to take her position, but a noise in the bushes caught her attention. She strained her eyes to find the source, but when her search yielded no fruit, Maybe, "but there was nothing, she dismissed it" in stead, or something like that? It just seems a bit drawn out. she returned to the task at hand. She knelt reverently and the others copied, the Punk Girl giggling and as? she went down. Goth Chick shot her a dirty look to make her be quiet. She looked at each of them; the grieving daughter, the terminally ill boy, the two outcast of society and her; the witch. Each were very different but united by a common fear; death. It had taken one conversation, one trip to an out of the way bookstore to bring them to this spot. Tonight they were going to defy what was thought to be the greatest unbreakable law in all of existence.

The Punk Boy pulled out a syringe from some part of his jacket and the group passed it ceremoniously till it fell into the lap of the Sick Kid. His pale thin hands shakily picked it up; his wide eyes darted back and forth to each of them. The witch nodded comfortingly and with one swift plunge, he injected the poison into his veins.

Eh, see you missed a great opportunity to drive up the tension. Maybe he's sweating a lot, maybe he can barely hold the syringe at the thought of what he's going to do. You make it sound like he's picking salad over soup "Oh, guess I'll kill myself now" Like that. Even if he made the decision a year ago, it would still take some time to make it happen at the moment. Perhaps everyone stares at him, but nobody says a thing, the drunks even go quiet, sobered by what's happening. Maybe he convulses a bit, or coughs, clutches his heart. Maybe he screams a bit, breaking the silence and just freaking the ******** out of everyone, really shocking them with what they're doing. Seriously, this could be a BIG scene and you breezed right through it.

He slumped over.

They made quick work of the next step; the witch beginning the chants while the others tried to follow along as best they could. Seriously, you have GOT to make the kid's death have impact. They just walked into the woods and a kid injected himself with poison and died, and they just start chanting like hey're cheering for the football team?

“Dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro.” Lord restore the dead? Just curious.

They went on and on, their voices rising in concentration and effort till they went hoarse from the strain. The corpse amongst them did not stir.

“Did we do something wrong?” the Wallflower asked.

“Nah,” The Punk Boy replied. “She’s a fake!”

The witch simply bowed her head and allowed the others to grumble and then slowly walk away from the circle. Soon it was just her and the corpse in the quiet night. She waited, staring intensely at the small form. It twitched and then began to sit up.

“Fools.” The witch and the body whispered at the same time.

Break this up a bit, to show the scene change. I like to put three asterisks with spaces in between in the middle of the page between a scene or major time break with no transition. You can use lots of things, though.

Two figures huddled in the shadows of a dark alley somewhere in town. They broke apart after some time and the Punk Girl’s voice whispered. “Do you think the police will come looking for us?”
“Nah,” replied the Punk Boy.” They’ll think it was a weird suicide or that witch did them in.”

“What about the syringe?”

“Wiped it clean.”

“You’re so smart.” Maybe she hugs on his arm and holds closer to him as she says it?

The two returned to clinging to each other but stopped when as a third, darker shadow covered them. The boy looked up and frightened pulled his pocket knife out of his pocket. You can do better, describe him as being scared.

“You’re supposed to be dead! “ He whispered hoarsely.

The Wallflower pulled her body through her body through Doubled this her bedroom window, tears threatening to fall. She had been such a fool to believe all those lies. She spotted at the crucifix that hung over her bed and looked away guiltily. That poor boy… She thought and sat down on the corner of her mattress and stared at the floor, her overwhelming sadness swallowing her into the edge of comatose. I know you can describe this better. Show her obviously hurt by what she's witnessed. Maybe she vomits just at the thought of it? Overwhelming sadness is good to describe what she feels, but does little to give it impact.

Her door cracked open in a wild head of hair peered in through the slit.

“I see you; I see what you have done!” It whispered. It was her older sister, restricted to the house due to her paranoid schizophrenia that had robbed her of all her senses. “You do bad things! Confess! Confess to God!”

“Shut up!” The Wallflower nearly shouted. “Bad things have happened to me! And don’t you start on that religious crap! It was your fault Dad died in the crash! Your fault, we’re dirt poor from paying for all your medications! Why doesn’t Mom just dump you in some home and be done with it?”

The older woman backed away from the door, still muttering under her breath till she disappeared back to the shadows. I thought this was her older sister? How old is she? Who's at the door again? The girl leaned back on her bed and sobbed into the sheets. A voice whispered and she shot up; thinking her sister had returned. She prepared to start her tirade anew but stopped short when she saw who stood before her. His skinny pale form stood out in the dark room. He smiled gleefully.

“You’re alive!” she whispered excitedly. “It worked!” Whoa, whoa, no, she should be freaked the ******** out. If I saw a dead kid in my room, I'd be a little concerned.

“Yes it did!” he replied. “It just took a minute and guess what! I have powers; I can fly!” s**t, what are you doing? You were setting this up for grim horror, now I can't help picturing the boy in green tights with red hair. Personally I'm picturing him smiling a grin so big it's inhuman, face caked with mud, clothes ripped or gone entirely, maybe one of his arms doesn't work anymore and just hangs freely.

“Really? We have to tell the group!”

“I already did. They are all waiting in the woods. Come on and we’ll join them!” He extended a skeletal hand. She took it and was lead to a still open window. She stopped and protested. “But we’ll, we’ll-“

“I can fly, remember?”

She stopped and though for a moment and allowed herself to be lead again. Slowly he went through the window; she followed. Out onto the porch roof they marched until they reached the edge. The boy floated out in space still holding her hand. She looked at the ground; the doubt returning to her tear-stained face. But she looked up and the floating entity before her and she floated up with him.

She didn’t notice her body falling.

In the woods, a girl lies crumpled on the forest floor, a syringe sticking out of her arm and the widest smile on her face; five feet away lay the body of a cancer victim. In an alley two figures; a boy and a girl hold each other and a girl hold each other. They look nearly peaceful but for the thin ribbon of red on each neck. In a neighborhood, a broken body of a girl lies in front of a house. In the window above, a woman screams, her crazed ranting drowned out by sirens that approach the scene of the crime. See, now you're back to what I pictured from the start, but that bit earlier REALLY pulled me out of it.

Above the entire city, Death floats gracefully. Tucking five souls underneath its coat, it disappears into the fading black as dawn appears on the horizon. So, it's not the kid? Personally I think it should be seen as the kid's soul, maybe corrupted by the suicide, or the malicious intent, or the ritual, or all of them. Rather than make it the generic death, make it the kid. That makes it more personal.


I berated you more than I thought I would, but it's because I liked where you were going and how you got there, you've just got to spice it up a bit. Really make each scene gripping, not just a stepping stone to the finale. I said the "I can fly" bit was jarring, but I can't think of another way for him to get her to fall... Also, it's implied she climbed into the window. I see it as being at the second story. I don't know if falling out a second story window would really kill her. Broken bones perhaps. Maybe she climbs up to the roof for some alone time, he creeps up behind her, she feels a cold hand on her shoulder. He never says he can fly, she just sees him hanging there. Less floating, more puppet on strings, but a few are cut, so it doesn't look quite right. He takes her hand, says it'll be okay, she falls off. Same end, personally I think it's a better execution. I don't mean to insult, though, just how I'd do it. There's a bunch of ways. Good story, I liked it.


Okay so follow up- Yes the chant is god resurrect the dead. No I am not making him look over the top dead; he needs to be enticing enough to be believable for Wallfower to accept him as a non-threat ( but I will hint at something not being right) and third- Its Death, its needs to be him, the whole point of the story is not to screw with Death; that you aren't suppose to know what's on the other side.
That man 0ver there's avatar

4,900 Points
  • Invisibility 100
  • Forum Regular 100
  • Tipsy 100
This is actually a good story, I think you just ran into the same problem I do, which is, over enthusiasm. I forget to reread and spell check my stories all the time, so things like this happen. Keep up the good work.
Gravity Killer 's avatar

Witty Prophet

6,650 Points
  • Dressed Up 200
  • Brandisher 100
  • Team Jacob 100
That man 0ver there
This is actually a good story, I think you just ran into the same problem I do, which is, over enthusiasm. I forget to reread and spell check my stories all the time, so things like this happen. Keep up the good work.

Thanks, I actually made some additions to it and fixed some of the mistakes,I'm just too lazy to put it up :/

Quick Reply

Submit
Manage Your Items
Other Stuff
Get Items
Get Gaia Cash
Where Everyone Hangs Out
Other Community Areas
Virtual Spaces
Fun Stuff
Gaia's Games