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| Would anyone like to read some of my book? This is accually the third chapter.... i would like to know if i have good writing quality Thanks Very Much PREMONITION Darkness closed in on me as I opened my eyes to a new day. It was so dark that I could not see the snowy pile of Aspen at the end of my bed. I knew why the blackness was present. Today was the first day of school. Trying to calm myself and get rid of my anxiety, I stayed lying on my back in the middle of my bed, and pointed out shapes in the shadows that danced on my walls. I lifted my head to stare at my clock. It read 5:30, too early to get up. During the past few nights, I started to think of how Aspen interpreted the future. If the vision was meant to come true, then something, like the bright light, would scare me, but then something I loved would take its place. I started to remember the rest of the dream. Who was the boy in my dream? Was he my true love? If Aspens gift really did work like that, then my life was going to change forever. Just thinking about someone loving me made my stomach flutter wildly with butterflies. After a long time of thinking, and visualizing myself tracing the contours of my dream-boy’s face with my finger, I noticed that I could not get him out of my memory. When I blinked, even for a split second, his face was there, staring down at me with those lovely devoted eyes. With a groan, I sat up in bed and looked at Aspen. She was already up, wide-awake and playing with her much loved toy. “Aspen, it’s the first day. Can you show me if it will be alright?” I whispered, wondering what her reaction would be. After a few seconds, I saw that she was thinking hard, licking her leg and quickly blinking her eyes. Finally, she got up, walked lazily over to me and sat with her shoulders squared towards me. She stared blankly into my eyes, looking for something important. When she was done searching, she slowly laid her snowy white head on my pale cool hand. “Well, here’s your schedule Miss.” said a plump lady behind a stainless steal desk. ”Your first class is Spanish with Mr.Picazo.” “Thanks?” I muttered, the words coming out from nowhere. Around me was a tiny school office, wallpapered in the ugliest floral print that is available on the planet. In a split second, I was whirled through the door and out into the dark hallway, floating by every miniature classroom and every silver water fountain. It seemed like I was positioned on a cloud, touring my soon to be school. I passed through the lunchroom, staring at the students, trying to eat their tasteless, nutritious lunches, but for some reason, they were frozen in time. Looking around, I saw unfamiliar faces wearing plastic rimmed glasses with acne-filled pores. The large football stars sat at their special table next to the preppy cheerleaders, frozen in the middle of a school cheer. Then there was the confident girls table, filled with smiley grins and crimped hair. One girl in particular, a girl with curly dark strawberry blonde hair and sky blue eyes, stuck out to me. She wore a layered shirt, rustic and original in its own unique way, while she stared at her Algebra book, trying to finish her homework on time. Next to her sat a petite girl, with light blonde, short spiky hair, that wore a cute yellow sundress and smiled as though she had won a large trophy. As I looked at this table, I felt a tremendous shock of jealousy to be one of those girls. Then, in mid-thought, I was whirled out of the lunchroom and driven to a large bog in the middle of a wilderness. I witnessed many different kinds of trees and plants living together peacefully and happily on this bouncy green sponge. Traveling along the beautiful wild plants, I grew quite content with the environment. After what seemed like several hours, there was a slight rustle in a bush near-by. My traveling cloud disappeared from underneath me and I fell limply to the ground. Out of nowhere came my dream-boy with a bewildered look on his face, but with pure love in his eyes. “Lilibeth, you have frightened me beyond words.” he murmured, holding me in his cold strong arms. “I didn’t mean too.” my voice came out weakly. I started to cry, knowing that he would soon vanish from my vision. Yet, he did not stop staring at me, he just held me tighter. “Tristan.” I whispered, his name appearing in my mind as though I had known him forever. With his icy cold fingertips, he lightly touched my lips. “It’s alright my love. No one is going to hurt you. My father will soon be here and we will get you safely home.” a weak smile appeared on his face. “Tristan. Please. Please don’t leave me.” I started to weep. This sudden rush of emotion seemed so real. “Oh, please Lil.” a tear fell from his face. “Please, don’t cry. I will never leave you. I will be here forever.” I stared at him in disbelief. “You truly will?” “Of coarse!” he said with a slight giggle. Staring into his eyes, I could see he was telling the truth. He w |
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| Do you think I'm a good writer? It was a lovely night, the moon shone down and rested on my friends and my shoulders. I admitted that the campus really was quite lovely, but we hadn't found a courtyard, instead it was a large balcony. I looked over the edge to see the ground only about seven feet down. We had climbed a flight of stairs to get here. There was a few potted rose bushed and I stepped out to find a large amount of other girls and boys here as well. I saw more blue eyes than amber and smiled at them all widely. The Vampires saw my crest and immediately I was regarded with respect, the House of Artemis was one of the most widely recognized in all of Europe. A few Lycans saw me and narrowed their eyes but no fights would be started here, there was an unsaid agreement of peace while at this place. It was unbecoming and disgraceful to begin such a stupid skirmish here. Anne walked over to a brunette girl with wide blue eyes and smiled warmly. "Rebecca," she said, embracing her. "Anne!" she squealed. I saw no familiar faces here but Molly dragged me into a small group of the girls regardless. They looked at me for a small minute, judging and attempting to find out what my purpose and rank was. The rose tucked behind my ear was recognized by a few and they smiled, relaxed. "Hello," one said, sticking a hand out that I shook, her accent was British. "I am Victoria. My Coven is from London." "Hello, I'm from the House of Artemis, Amelia." "Oh, well, we don't have a fancy name like yours but we're under the rule of the House of Quinn." I nodded, in England, things were run differently and Houses and Covens could be banded together in provinces and such under the rule of one major house. "Hm, we have a small colony in America, I think." I replied. Another girl stepped forward and introduced herself as Echo, from New York. Before long the whole group was talking and having great fun. We discussed Coven politics and the current situation with the Tribes and how each of our different Houses was dealing with their problems. "Politics are such a bore," complained one of the younger girls. Her name was Lauren and she was a plump little princess from Russia. "Politics are what makes a Coven a Coven; they are countries within the country." I said. Anne nodded in agreement. "Without them we would be in disarray." Molly added. The door to the balcony opened again and we all turned our heads to see a boy walk in, head lowered. I recognized him and recoiled first, all the girls looked at me, puzzled. Then he looked up and smiled at us, green eyes flashing. The girls looked taken aback and they showed their fangs in warning to him. He smirked profusely. "Hello ladies, nice to see your lovely shining faces." He said warmly. I snorted and he passed by us without a further sound. "I know him." Lauren said in a hushed tone. Anne raised an eyebrow and the rest of us gazed, puzzled at her. "He's with the local Lycan Tribe, his mother was a Vampire, and I think she was from the Trutanich Coven in Croatia." She added. "Hm." Molly said, shaking her head and pulling on one of her little curls. "Lauren, I have a question, were you born into the Enduring World or introduced?" "Born, my mother and father had not the heart to take a human guy. They also were afraid I'd be a bit thick if I had been changed." The little princess responded. "The royal family needed bright minds to pioneer the future of our Monarchy." * * * Be honest! :) |
| I read it and notice the beginning has errors and then it improves but the style and voice change, I wondered if your borrowed from another writer. Careful. Ok, if you can write this well then lets look at the opening. The opening line has to be perfect. Saying my friends and my shoulders is proper English, which can sound choppy. Being too critical, I would say, put in a mood to correct the choppyness. What does the moon on shoulder imply in feeling or your story forewarning? You admitted to whom? that the campus, not a balcony- character expression is there but it is a snotty and choppy sentence. And being a moonlit romantic social, it would be better not to snot on friends when speaking of chosen avenue of forthcoming event that you spent so much time writing about as if one (the reader) should care. It died right here. I do not want to read further. Then your conceit becomes a total bore of misplaced details. I realize you are young, and everyone writes trash while learning. I know, "Bite me." But on we go anyway. The opening paragraph has to show all. a lovely night is shallow. The moon on friends is a visual that needs movement of character- in other words, why should the reader care? It was a lovely night of moonshine and friends - foreshadow why. Rewrite: a large amount of girls and boys here as well. The next sentence is good- more blue eyes. Rewrite: but no fight would be started (here, then next word is there - bad english) and I take it that it was suppose to be a new sentence. ) Rewrite: while at this place. Keep narrowed their eyes (erase next bit) It was unbecoming... rewrite: small minute, Show a body movement and emotion or reveal charactter Rewrite. House of Quinn." I nodded (period) In England... Rewrite: erase, "Before long the whole group was talking and having great fun." Rewrite: and we all turned our heads, TO: we turned to see... Rewrite: recoiled first (period) All the Ok, most of this is word choice and too many words. Rewrite: The girls looked...Start with action, Taken aback, fangs emerged (show action) at his smirk. Rewrite: Laura, I have a question (period) Were you born... Rewrite: They also were (improper English) In this style you may write, They feared (thick) if I were changed (how changed?) You should use descriptives - EX: Born of true linage over the cast off (genetic garbage) of a foreign design. Use your words to show emotion, OK, I was not calling you conceited. A conceit is a false opinion or mistake. Anne Rice wrote the original vampire series in the 1970s and it is in the flavour of old English. The verbage was in that line of thinking, not an attack or judgement on the writer. I assumed it was known, especially regarding vampires. |
| What do you think of my scary story? The Golden Hand He never paid much attention to the neighbors living on his city block until the day the pretty middle-aged widow moved in two doors down from him. She was plump and dark with sparkling eyes, and she always wore dark gloves on her hands, even indoors. He went out of his way to meet her, and they often "bumped" into each other in the street and stood talking. One day, as she brushed the hair back from her forehead, he caught a glimpse of gold under the glove on her right arm. When he asked her about it, she grinned coquettishly and told him that she had lost one hand a few years back and now wore a golden hand in its place. In that moment, a terrible lust woke in his heart - not to possess the lady herself, but to possess the solid gold hand that she wore under her long black gloves. He courted the widow with every stratagem known to him; flowers, trips to the theater, gifts, compliments. And he won her heart. Within a month, they were standing in front of a minister, promising to love one another until death parted them. Within another month, he was a widower and had buried his ailing wife in the local cemetery - without her golden hand. It had been so easy. A slow poison, administered daily to resemble a wasting disease. No one - not his wife, not the family doctor, not their neighbors - suspected murder. And the night after the funeral, he slept with the golden hand under his pillow. It was a dark night. Clouds covered the moon, and the wind was whistling down the chimney and rattling the shutters of the town house. He was deeply asleep when the door to his room slammed open with a loud bang and a wild wind whipped around the room, scattering papers and books and clothing and table coverings every which way. He sat up, startled by the sudden noise, and his pulse began to pound when he saw a greenish-white light bobbing slowly into the room. Before his eyes, the light slowly grew larger, taking on the shape of his dead wife. She was missing one arm. "Where is my golden hand?" she moaned, her dark eyes blazing with red fire. "Give me my golden hand!" He tried to speak, but his mouth was so dry with fear that he could only make soft gasping noises. The glowing phantom moved closer to him, her once-lovely face twisted into a hideous green mask. "You stole my life and you stole my hand. Give me back my golden hand!" the dead wife howled. The noise rose higher and higher, and the phantom pulsed with a strident green light that smote his eyes, making them water. He cowered back against his pillows, and the hard shape of the golden hand pressed against his back. And then he felt the golden hand twitch underneath him as the mangled green phantom that had been his wife swooped down upon him, pressing his face against the pillow in a suffocating green cloud. He tried to scream, but it was cut off suddenly by a terrible pressure against his throat, cutting off his breath. The world went black. The next morning, when the housemaid came into the room with her master's morning cup of tea, she found him lying dead on the floor, with the golden hand clutched around his throat. |
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