Young Writers Society

i wasn't really sure where to put this so it ended here in sci-fi.

CL

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Chapter One

He had been pushed and prodded all his life, jerked this way and that and now to his utter amazement and irritation he was getting shafted in the afterlife – again. He thought after the last time, they would have given up their gleeful mental and physical torture and retired to verbal abuse, but no, he had been denied again, or shafted as he like to put it, and after a thousand years of it, he was just the far side of fed up. Yet again, he was falling through fire and ice, drenched with human sweat, and feelings that came with the body he was deemed to inhabit. He cursed God, he cursed the other angels and most of all cursed the reason he was yet again shunned from the pearly white gates for the umpteenth time – Anne and yet he never cursed himself or the human emotions that had embodied him for the last thirty years. He deemed cursing himself moot on the condition that if he was going to have pride in something, it might as well be himself. In denial, he had spoken quite brashly at his trial (which consisted of the All-knowing and two really prudish arch-angels), it wasn’t his fault, he was a man and that’s what men tend to do, thus deferring all fault to the body. But all he got was a lecture on rules and regulations, mostly on his sentence and a one way trip to the hell humans called earth with the promise that if he didn’t break any rules in the year following his immersion into society, and then he would be gladly taken back into God’s heavenly plane. It was the same speech that he had heard hundreds of times before and if he hadn’t cracked it now, he resigned himself to never cracking it ever. And he cursed Anne again vocally, damning her to the nine hells for ruining his all-expenses paid trip to the Elysian Fields and then thought the wench would probably enjoy it and concocted more elaborate and creative ways of molding a little hell for her – maybe Hadriel would help him if he ever got up there again, he was the nice one. All of this played out in his mind, as he took the ambiguously painful experience of falling out of grace. He winced as pain took hold over the human body that morphed around him and as his wings ripped from the middle of his now malleable body. Entering the material world was always a test and being the experienced screw up that he was anticipated the burning sensation one always got upon entry. He liked it in way, as endorphins spread through his flesh, giving him the natural high he had become to enjoy. Cursing everyone and everything in heaven as well as Anne, he took his first step out of his cocoon, to yet again brave the new and exiciting existence that was America.

This sounds really interesting. I want here more.

The title sounds cool, too.

The only thing I can suggest is that you divide that up into paragraphs. It gets a little hard to read, eventually.

Very very very nice.You did the right job by putting it in S.F.I really like it.Continue the good work.

I haven't actually read it (at least not yet) but the title you have is absolutely awesome; I hope you don't change it.

okay, read. I think you should add a character right there; I still don't have much of a clue who the narrator is or why he/she's damned to hell...so I want to know the circumstances. I haven't read enough to say whether it's good or bad; if the first step of a staircase doesn't creak, doesn't mean that more won't, or if it does, doesn't mean that more will. That's a stupid metaphor, sorry. I'm off.