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So I thought I should share some of my writing with you guys...

Discussion in 'OFF TOPIC' started by Memento, May 22, 2014.

  1. Memento Ser Memento (alias, The Winged Knight).

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    I know that it's not even close to being finished, but hey, it's a start, right? Here it is:

    -

    Deep in a dark, filthy alley, a teenaged peasant girl watched carefully for guards patrolling the crowded area. She was a thief, and she knew the dangers of what she was doing. If she was lucky, she’d spend a night in the dungeons. If not, she would lose one of her hands.

    Moibeal had no intention of letting either of those things happen to her. Once or twice, she had contemplated stopping to find honest work, but she knew that the only real honest work for a female sinner was to toil in one of the many beds of crops around Stonegarden. Theft made more of a living for her and her little brother in a day than gardening would in ten seasons. Sure, the risks were high, but so long as the black market kept paying for what she stole, the rewards were always greater.

    So the peasant girl continued to steal trinkets and baubles of all kinds from the snooty highfolk with their fancy clothes and snobbish disgust of anyone lower than they were. Even the place they lived in was a farce; Moibeal saw nothing “heavenly” about the Golden Keep of Heaven - at least, not from her perspective. Those stupid highfolk knew nothing about what people like her had to deal with on a daily basis. The crap and pee pee of animals and impoverished humans alike, the stench of decaying animal carcasses...what did those idiots know about the world beyond their pretty little houses and marketplaces?

    Moibeal’s storm-gray eyes quickly found their mark in the midst of the crowd: an elderly woman with a rather shiny silver necklace. She took a deep breath and brushed her long jet-black hair away from her face as she crept out of the alley. She had only taken three steps when the old woman looked at her with a smug smile. The young thief realized that she had made an impulsive mistake when a bunch of guards sprung out of nowhere.

    Ye idiot, Moibeal! Who’d be daft enough tae wear a pure silver necklace in public? It’s a trap, and ye fell right intae it, ye fool!

    “Stop right there, thief or ah’ll have yer head!”

    Moibeal sprinted away from the guard who had made the threat, making her way down the alley where she had been hiding. With a single running leap, she bounded over an upturned wooden cart, luckily not catching any part of her woolen dress on the obstacle. She pushed piles of debris into the path of the footsteps behind her, her hair streaming behind her like a banner. The sounds of curses and shouts of dismay told her that her tactics had worked, that the guards weren’t going to catch her. The young thief turned the corner and was gone from sight in a heartbeat.

    Moibeal took the time to catch her breath before she peered around the corner. The guards had vanished, and she allowed herself a small smile before she realized that she had not gotten her loot for the day. The peasant girl sighed reluctantly. She was not eager to run away from the guards again, but without loot, there were no coins. No coins meant no food for her or her little brother, and she would not allow him to starve on her watch.

    The peasant girl swiftly made her way down the back alleys that she called home. She didn’t even need to look to know where she was going; countless days of using them as temporary shelters and escape routes had left her with a better knowledge of those narrow passages than anyone in Stonegarden. She felt her way around the shadowy walls, gingerly stepping over the half-eaten corpse of a beggar that still had rats scurrying around the remains. Moibeal absentmindedly wondered if she had known the poor fellow before shaking her head. Even if she did know the dead beggar, it wasn’t like it would matter at this point. After all, dead was dead.

    -

    So, thoughts would be appreciated and all.
     
    #1
    RmsLegends, Tron, NJRamsFan and 3 others like this.
  2. NJRamsFan Cocaine Cowboy

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    Very cool man! really creative, your writing style paints a very vivid picture.
     
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  3. Dieter the Brock SON OF JEN-ORIS

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    pretty good stuff
    is this the beginning of the piece? I have a few notes

    I really would like to see more of a victorious intro for our character - in this case she has fallen for a trap but it would be fun to see that in fact she has not been trapped but has the upper hand - because as you state "no body is stupid enough to wear a silver necklace in public" so that would sort of discredit her as being a good thief - i mean it wouldn't hurt to have Moilbeal look over the crowd more closely and spend time observing and discounting things like the silver necklace -

    for example "Moibeal’s storm-gray eyes quickly found their mark in the midst of the crowd: an elderly woman with a rather shiny silver necklace. - then you have her move out
    BUt it could possibly be cooler and add more depth to your character and set up her rivals if you would adjust it to something along the lines of:
    Moibeal’s storm-gray eyes quickly found their mark in the midst of the crowd: an elderly woman with a rather shiny silver necklace. She laughed - another one of (so and so's) attempts at a trap.
    Then she could look further and see other things that may not be so impressive like a silver necklace or coins, but things that can actually bring money that aren't so cool like let's say some blacksmith irons, or a saddle, etc... then we can see her stealing it and the great skills she has. I'd like to see more of her skills and her wit - not just desperation. WE get that it's a sort of fucked up place with your imagery. My thoughts are that it would be nice to see more of a heroic sequence, so we get more characterization on how she steals, how she avoids getting caught, and how she fences it.

    Let's say that the guards are on to her nonetheless and in the end she is forced to give up the loot. But a thief can always steal a chicken. Here you write this one line -- No coins meant no food for her or her little brother, and she would not allow him to starve on her watch. But this is not exactly true as i said, so with that she can steal a chicken and although it is a failure that she didn't get the big money she is still able to keep him alive and not starving which should be rather easy for a good thief.

    In the last paragraph you make mention of "shelters" and "escape routes" but I think we'd rather see them in action and the opportunity is there early on to make this not so expository but a bit more action oriented

    Another thought is to stop calling her "peasant girl" because it may possibly confuse this considering that she is a thief - plus we already know her name is Moibell
    And keeping hearing this 'peasant girl" makes me think we have two main characters. And this is compounded with the idea of "the brother" who has yet to be named.

    In this opening - you also mention the affluence the snooty highfolk with their fancy clothes and snobbish disgust - but might i suggest that we see some of this affluence amongst the constant imagery that you are showing us about Stonegarden which is primarily a horrible dark place. It would be nice to see her make efforts to either infiltrate the highfolk and snobs only to be forced to make her moves amongst the throngs of lowly people.

    So all in all I think this is cool. I'd just like for you to take more time and show us more of what makes her so freaking cool that we have to keep reading and reading. And intro scenes for characters are always vital to the process. I'd like to see more of what makes her special. The kid can be an afterthought too until we get there. It might be fun to see her as more roguish and more intriguing -- almost as someone without burdens to then be revealed that she does have a younger brother waiting for her later and more of her softer side can come out.

    Cool stuff, thanks !!!!
     
    #3
  4. Memento Ser Memento (alias, The Winged Knight).

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    Thank you for telling me these things DtB; this is exactly the kind of stuff that I'm looking for when I post a story. You've helped me out a ton with this, and I'll definitely be putting a lot of your suggestions to good use. I always appreciate constructive critique like this. It makes me a better writer in the end.
     
    #4
  5. Dieter the Brock SON OF JEN-ORIS

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    thanks Memento! you've made my day. Can't wait to checkout your rewrites!
     
    #5
  6. RhodyRams Well-Known Member

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    enjoyed the read...well done
     
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  7. RmsLegends Well-Known Member

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    Good job so far bro :)
     
    #7
  8. Ramhusker Well-Known Member Pit Boss

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    Nice job Momento! I'm glad to see you decided to let us see some of your work. You are well on you way.
     
    #8
  9. Memento Ser Memento (alias, The Winged Knight).

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    Hey, guys! Got a short story to share with you. Hopefully it'll send chills down your spine. :D

    -

    I was shocked to see him like this. Eric, my handsome husband of twenty years, had become a monstrous beast: a wendigo. His beady eyes glowed like red-hot coals, searching the woods for the last piece of fresh human blood: me.

    How could everything have gone so wrong? It had been a terribly long winter in the year of 1886. The crops had died, and the livestock had followed soon after. And then our son - my teenaged boy - had disappeared along with his father when they had gone hunting.

    At first, I hadn't paid it any notice; they were supposed to go on a long hunting trip to refill our larders, since we had already eaten the last of the livestock at least a week ago. When they didn't come back the following night, I began to truly worry. So I set out to find them, covering myself in thick coats of animal pelts. I also brought along the Springfield rifle that Eric had purchased from the white men two years ago, tying it to my back so that I could use it on a moment's notice.

    The journey was long and dangerous. Even with the tracking skills that I had learned from my father when I was a little girl living amongst the Algonquin people, I still struggled to find their trail with all of the snow that had fallen over the past few days. The ice that subtly lay beneath the snow only made the going more treacherous. The outlines of the pine trees cast deep shadows that I could barely see through with all of the accursed snow falling from the cloudy sky.

    After I had thought that their trail had gone cold, I saw a ravine and the tiny figure that lay at the bottom of it. My eyes widened, and I let out a sharp gasp. Call it a mother's instinct if you will, but I knew that it was my son who was lying so ominously still down there. But where was his father? My husband would have never left his only child - a child named after him, no less - to die. That's when I decided to go into the ravine myself.

    Finding a way down was easier than I thought it would be. There was a large pine tree that had grown sideways about a mile away, and when I climbed down towards the tree, there wasn't really any ice on the rocks. When I got down to the bottom, I immediately rushed in the direction of the person I saw. I was far too late.

    Eric Jr. had broken his neck and died when he hit the ground. Tears immediately leapt to my eyes, as I sobbed and cradled my son's body, feeling the bone that jutted from the back of his neck. And when I cradled him, I realized that something was wrong. I looked down at his left arm and screamed. There wasn't a left arm attached to his torso anymore.

    "Hey! Enough with the screaming already. My head hurts."

    I whirled around, facing the direction of a gaunt figure lying underneath a nearby outcropping. "Eric?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Is it you? What happened? What happened to our boy?"

    My husband stared at something only he could see. "Our son fell into the ravine. I tried to stop him from falling, and I ended up getting pulled into it as well...I broke both of my legs, and you can see what happened to him."

    "What happened to his body?" I asked, biting my lip. "What wild beast ate a part of him?"

    Eric Sr. closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were a deep crimson color. "I was starving. You must understand, there was nothing else to ea-"

    He began to spasm and roar in pain, as a large set of brutal fangs burst through his gums, as waves of pale-white fur cascaded down his skin from head to toe. His clothes ripped apart as he grew taller.

    "No. The legends...the wendigo...it can't be real, it can't be real..." I whimpered, my eyes wide with horror.

    I heard an audible crack as the bones in his legs somehow managed to reshaped themselves back into working condition. It was then that the monster that was once my husband lunged at my son's remains, quickly devouring them. I ran into the woods, unable to keep myself from screaming in pure terror.

    I had never ran faster than I was right now. My boots pounded the rough ground, as I willed my feet to move swifter. My skirts and coats tore themselves on the bushes, and my heart was beating like a frantic bird in a cage, but I didn't care. Flight had overtaken my sense of reason, and I only stopped when I slipped on an ice patch. I heard a primal howl off in the distance, and I finally remembered the Springfield rifle that was still attached to my back. I quickly untied it, my fingers fumbling as the baying grew louder and louder. I cocked the bolt-action lever back and hid behind a large spruce tree as the beast finally found my trail.

    The rifle in my hands shook violently. I stared down the monster through the iron sights, praying that he would not see me. I heard him breathe harshly, the outline of his bony ribcage clearly showing through his chest. It was then that his gaze caught mine. A look of guilty recognition sprung to his eyes.

    He hesitated for a moment...and I shot him between the eyes. And when I caught the scent of his blood and brains spilling over the snow and ice, I realized that I was very, very hungry.

    -

    So...like before, all thoughts, comments, and critiques are very much welcomed.
     
    #9