Young Writers Society

The Samaritan is burning.

I shield my eyes from the flames, stumbling around through the blazing hallways of the ship. I can barely breathe, the smoke seeping into my lungs like tar. Sweat pours down my face. Every inch of my body is in shock, and I can feel my heart pounding like thunderclap. How many more beats does it have left, I wonder, before it is snuffed out entirely?

The flames cloud my vision, and I run – half-blind – through the decaying vessel. I turn a corner at the med bay, the screams of the dying wounded penetrating the walls and chaos. No time to help the sick, no time for anything. I run, as fast as my feet will carry me, towards the escape pods.

I stop at the nearest pod. There are six seats, five passengers. I crawl into the pod, catching the nervous glances of those already fastened in. I sit down in the remaining seat, and the orifice closes. For a moment, all that exists is darkness, and the muffled bedlam erupting from the other side of the door. There is a creaking sound, and for a moment I wonder if the machine has malfunctioned. A knot has twisted in my stomach, and I am afraid.

Then, a hissing sound and a quick jolt shivers through the capsule as it is ejected from the flaming starship. The pod shakes as it descends. The fluorescents go on, and the shaken faces of the passengers around me snap into reality. I turn away, and look out the window at the crest the escape pod. Through its glass I see an auburn sphere suspended in space, dark blue veins covering its surface like cancer.

I close my eyes, and let darkness cloud my vision as we plummet into the planet's atmosphere. The vessel quivers as it descends. It might not hold together; you hear about it all the time, faulty pods shattering in mid-space and abandoning its passengers to the lifeless void.

I clutch my hands against my seat and the cold, uncaring metal doing nothing to chill my raging blood. There is heavy breathing, then crying, and finally a scream as the shell of the capsule begins to creak and rattle. The pod hisses the sound of engines as its landing mechanisms kicking in.

The pod begins to shake violently. We have collided into the planet, this I know, yet I dare not open my eyes. More screaming, as the ship shakes us up and down. I fear my neck might snap, that my hellish plunge will have been for nothing. I can feel myself fading away, can feel the oxygen leaving my system. I keep my eyes closed, refusing to look, refusing to accept and –

– everything goes black and for some time between a moment and an eternity, I am in darkness so I wonder is this Heaven or Hell, even as I am –

– yanked back into reality. My eyes snap open, and air floods into my lungs. My body aches, but I think that nothing is broken. The sky above me is dark, and filled with unblinking, emotionless stars. Screams and cries pour in as my hearing returns, and I struggle to my feet.

I am in a vast desert, its amber sands stretching on for miles in all directions. Across the panorama, I see blue, tube-like substances protruding out of the planet's skin. I wonder - briefly - if I am imagining this, but my attention is snapped to the bedlam all around me. The area around me is littered with the bodies of the dying and the dead. Escape pods are scattered all around, some of them intact and others burnt away or lost in the descent. Survivors scramble around, tending as best they can to the wounded. Panic fills the air, and the chaos numbs my mind.

I do my best to help, despite my pain, but there is nothing I can do to aid them. Our wounded are bleeding, screaming, dying all around, and God help me there's nothing I can do.

My head is pounding, harder and harder as the seconds go by. Physically, it started when I woke up, but I feel as if it has been with me for days. The drum-beat of ache resounding with rhythm and fervor. The pain is humbling, and I pray it will abate.

I try to distract myself from the agony. I stand over a man as another (a woman) attempts to stop his bleeding, using scraps of her own clothes as bandages. I try to help, but nothing can be done. The wound is too deep, the bleeding too profuse. I take my hand in his, and for the first time my eyes meet with the dying. As he looks at me, his blue eyes seem to fill with fear. He reaches out, as if to touch me, and his lips struggle to form words, but he never releases them. Eyes wide, his arm sinks the the ground, limp. I am still clutching his other hand in mine; I place it upon his chest.

I try to close his eyes, but they will not budge. The woman begins to cry, and there is little I can do to comfort her. I reach under the man's shirt and retrieve his dog tag. His name is ROBERT BROWN, I tell her. But it does not help her to know his name; in fact, all it does is make her weep all the more.

The carnage continues around me, and it doesn't seem to register. I look up into the sky, the moans of the marred echoing inside my throbbing head, and when I turn my head to the sky all I see in its dark expanse is the burning remnants of the Samaritan, torn asunder in the sunless sky. It is only a matter of time before the planet's gravity takes what remains of our vessel.

I help tend to the dying, doing the best I can to ease their pain. In the end, when the dead are pronounced and covered, there are seventeen of us remaining; twelve have perished in the descent. We bury the dead in the sand, using fragments from the escape pods to mark their locations. When the lost are buried and our labor finished, I sling the dog-tag of Robert Brown over his makeshift grave, and join the others.

Among the survivors, conversations slowly but surely begins to form. Where were you when the ship started to go down? Did you see my friend, my child, my lover? Are we the only survivors? Was the distress beacon launched?

Are they coming for us? If so, how long before they arrive? If not, how long can we survive?

I watch as the last remnants of the Samaritan descends down into the planet, a massive scatter of burning metal crashing down into the planet. It collides into the faraway desert with a powerless clap of thunder and madness. And when the last of the noise has died, everyone seems to stop and watch as the smoke begins to slink against the black, unflinching sky.

===============================================================================

Part 2: The Wraiths - http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?t=76734

Hey PaulClover and welcome to my first ever review!

Overall, I like this part of your story. I think it is okay, but there are a few things you may consider in order to improve it. I'm not usually a fan of the first person narration style, but there are some definite advantages that you may like to capitalize upon. Using first person can help to make a story more intense, in my opinion, by putting the reader right into the story. However, it can also be limiting. I didn't feel like there was much connection to other characters. More interaction and dialogue could improve this (maybe a conversation with the weeping woman or other survivors). Do I (unnamed character person) have a friend, a lover, or a child of my own that I'm worried about as I board the escape pod? You do a very good job of describing physical sensations but you don't describe your character's emotions and thoughts as much. I also love your use of language. I enjoy words like "thunderclap", "panorama", "carnage" and others that you put to use. This could also use a little more proofreading, though I only found one or two errors. Some background and details about the main character or the Samaritan may make the story more interesting too.

I hope this is helpful to you, and good luck with the rest of your story.

As always, great job! I am so excited to see where this goes! Keep it up. Besides some spelling errors, I love this!

Hey PaulClover,
Thank you for asking me to review this. This is some of the best science fiction that I've read on this website so far, it really is. I like how your character is observing what is going on but his personality has not been developed yet. I also like your writing style. One thing is, I recommend trying to reword some of your sentences, because I think most of them (especially towards the end) begin with "I", and after a while it gets to be rather noticeable.
Oh, and another thing:

The flames cloud my vision, and I run – half-blind – through the decaying vessel.

I don't like how you used the word "decaying" here. I just don't see a spaceship in flames as "decaying".
Well, I would love to read more of this story. Keep up the good work!
-Alex

Hey, FLyerS here with your requested review.
It's good to start with action to pull your reader in, but this action needs to forshadow what action is to come. If you start with action and keep it sustained, you have no chance to answer your reader's questions about why all the action is taking place.

Looks like you've already got a good amount of critique already, but I'll give it a go.

The Samaritan is burning.

I shieldsshield my eyes from the flames, stumbling around through the blazing hallways of the ship. I can barely breathe, the smoke seeping into my lungs like tar. Sweat pours down my face. Every inch of my body is in shock, and I can feel my heart pounding like thunderclap Like tar. Like thunderclap. There's a point when similes start to get annoying. . How many more beats does it have left, I wonder, before it is snuffed out entirely? Okay, this whole paragraph sounds wrong. And I have the reason. You're saying that you are dying and you're sweating and all that, but why should the reader believe you? You need justification. The main problem with this is that it's misplaced. It would be fine later, but all this drama right at the opening? Doesn't work. The feeling you are trying to get at ends up completely dry. My tip would be to start out with some description, so that the reader knows at least something about what you're talking about, and then throw in this paragraph afterwards.

The flames cloud my vision, and I run – half-blind – Don't know why you need dashes here. Commas would work. In fact, they would work better. through the decaying vessel. I turn a corner at the med bay, the screams of the dying wounded "Dying wounded?" Doesn't work. penetrating the walls and chaos. Uh..."penetrating the chaos?" Again, doesn't work. No time to help the sick So they're both sick and wounded now? Even if they are sick, this sounds really strange. , no time for anything. I run, as fast as my feet will carry me, towards the escape pods.

I stop at the nearest pod. There are six seats, five passengers Took me a while to figure out that this meant there were five passengers in the pod. . I crawl into the pod, catching the nervous glances of those already fastened in. I sit down in the remaining seat, and the orifice closes. For a moment, all that exists is darkness, and the muffled bedlam erupting from the other side of the door. There is a creaking sound, and for a moment I wonder if the machine has malfunctioned Okay, these last few sentences all have the exact same structure, and it sounds odd. . A knot has twisted in my stomach, and I am afraid. "A knot has twisted?" If it's a knot, then it's already twisted. Also, I can tell you were trying to be dramatic and all that with that last part, but, frankly, I've gotten that you're afraid by now. If you meant to reinforce the fact with this, then please show me, don't tell me.

Then, A hissing sound and a quick jolt shivers through the capsule as it is ejected from the flaming starship. The pod shakes as it descends Descends...through what? . The fluorescents go on, and the shaken faces of the passengers around me snap into reality Not quite sure what you're trying to say with this. . I turn away, and look out the window at the crest the escape pod Uh...what?. Through its glass Through the window's glass. Uh-huh. Windows are glass. Glass is not a possessive of them. Why not just say, "through it?"I see an auburn sphere suspended in space, dark blue veins covering its surface like cancer. ...Don't know about that comparison. Along those lines, what about "like blood cells?" I guess they're not really veins, though, so it's up to you.

I close my eyes, and let darkness cloud my vision as we plummet into the planet's atmosphere. The vessel quivers as it descends "As we plummet." And then, right after it: "as it descends." Get my drift? . It might not hold together This is bland. No emotion. I'm sure there's a better way of saying this. ; you hear about it all the time, faulty pods shattering in mid-space and abandoning its passengers to the lifeless void.

I clutch my hands against my seat and the cold, uncaring metal doing nothing to chill my raging blood You make an attempt at imagery here...but it doesn't work. . There is heavy breathing, then crying, and finally a scream as the shell of the capsule begins to creak and rattle. The pod hisses the sound of engines as its landing mechanisms kicking in.

The pod begins to shake violently The pod. The pod. I'm sure just "it" would work somewhere. . We have collided into the planet, this I know, yet I dare not open my eyes Wait - he's closing his eyes? . More screaming, as the ship shakes us up and down. I fear my neck might snap, that my hellish plunge will have been for nothing. I can feel myself fading away, can feel the oxygen leaving my system. I keep my eyes closed, refusing to look, refusing to accept and –

– everything goes black and for some time between a moment and an eternity, I am in darkness so I wonder is this Heaven or Hell, even as I am –

– yanked back into reality. My eyes snap open, and air floods into my lungs. My body aches, but I think that nothing is broken. The sky above me is dark, and filled with [unblinking, emotionless stars] This personification dies where it stands. . Screams and cries pour ininto my ears as my hearing returns, and I struggle to my feet.

I am in a vast desert, its amber sands stretching on for miles in all directions As soon as the sentence hits "stretching," the description becomes cliched. . Across the panorama, I see blue, tube-like substances protruding out of the planet's skin. I wonder - briefly - if I am imagining this, but my attention is snapped to the bedlam all around me. The area around me is littered with the bodies of the dying and the dead. Escape pods are scattered all around, some of them intact and others burnt away or lost in the descent. Survivors scramble around, tending as best they can to the wounded. Panic fills the air, and the chaos numbs my mind.

I do my best to help, despite my pain, but there is nothing I can do to aid them. Our wounded are bleeding, screaming, dying all around, and God help me there's nothing I can do.

My head is pounding, harder and harder as the seconds go by. Physically, it started when I woke up, but I feel as if it has been with me for days. The drum-beat of ache "Ache" is usually a verb, at least based on my experience, and though it can be used as a noun, this sounds odd to me. resounding with rhythm and fervor. The pain is humbling How is it "humbling," again?, and I pray it will abate.

I try to distract myself from the agony. I stand over a man as another (a woman) attempts to stop his bleeding, using scraps of her own clothes as bandages. I try to help, but nothing can be done. The wound is too deep, the bleeding too profuse. I take my hand in his, and for the first time my eyes meet with the dying's. As he looks at me, his blue eyes seem to fill with fear. He reaches out, as if to touch me, and his lips struggle to form words, but he never releases them. Eyes wide, his arm sinks the the ground, limp. I am still clutching his other hand in mine; I place it upon his chest. The emotion in this paragraph seems really forced. Maybe if the character had some relationship with the dying guy, if they had, perhaps, been in the pod together, this might have worked better, because you've got a good foundation here.

I try to close his eyes, but they will not budge. The woman begins to cry, and there is little I can do to comfort her. I reach under the man's shirt and retrieve his dog tag. His name is ROBERT BROWN If she's crying over him like that, I think she'd already know his name. , I tell her. But it does not help her to know his name; in fact, all it does is make her weep all the more.

The carnage continues around me, and it doesn't seem to register. I look up into the sky, the moans of the marred echoing inside my throbbing head, and when I turn my head to the sky all I see in its dark expanse is the burning remnants of the Samaritan, torn asunder in the sunless sky. It is only a matter of time before the planet's gravity takes what remains of our vessel.

I help tend to the dying, doing the best I can to ease their pain. In the end, when the dead are pronounced and covered, there are seventeen of us remaining; twelve have perished in the descent. We bury the deaddeceased in the sand, using fragments from the escape pods to mark their locations. When the lost are buried and our labor finished, I sling the dog-tag of Robert Brown over his makeshift grave, and join the others.

Among the survivors, conversations slowly but surely begins to form. Where were you when the ship started to go down? Did you see my friend, my child, my lover? Are we the only survivors? Was the distress beacon launched?

Are they coming for us? If so, how long before they arrive? If not, how long can we survive?

I watch as the last remnants of the Samaritan descends down into the planet, a massive scatter of burning metal crashing down into the planet. It collides into the faraway desert with a powerless clap of thunder and madness. And when the last of the noise has died, everyone seems to stop and watch as the smoke begins to slink against the black, unflinching sky.

This was great, Paul. I mostly just went over my critiques and skipped the praise, but I can definitely tell you that I enjoyed reading this. I'll get to part two as soon as I can.

-Kafka

This is going to be more of a review of a review, I'm afraid as I really don't agree with most of Kafkaescenses comments/corrections, but I hope it helps!
Kafkaescense, the first paragraph in particular I think you were completely inaccurate about, it really gripped me and drew me into the story. It doesn't need too much description, but maybe if there was some later on to fill the reader in it would make more sense. I felt that the majority of your suggested improvements were pretty scathing and sometimes not really helpful. For example:

The flames cloud my vision, and I run – half-blind – Don't know why you need dashes here. Commas would work. In fact, they would work better. through the decaying vessel.

Actually, hyphens are better than commas here, as hyphens are used to convey extra information to the reader whereas commas have kind of been improvised to do the same job. Another point I want to pick out is:

penetrating the walls and chaos. Uh..."penetrating the chaos?" Again, doesn't work.

"Penetrating the chaos" gives the impression that, although there is bedlam all around, the piercing screams of the dying passengers somehow manage to cut through to the protagonist of the novel. It does work.

A knot has twisted in my stomach, and I am afraid. "A knot has twisted?" If it's a knot, then it's already twisted.

Again, an inaccuracy here. Knots should not be twisted, they should be well tied, if it's twisted then you can't get it untied quickly when you need it. Trust me, I live on a cattle farm. You don't want a to run to open a gate with a herd of heifers charging at you, only to discover that the knot the gate is tied with is twisted. The sentence is fine as it is.

Through its glass Through the window's glass. Uh-huh. Windows are glass. Glass is not a possessive of them.

Actually, the definition of a window is: "An opening in the wall of a building, the side of a vehicle, etc., for the admission of air or light, or both, commonly fitted with a frame." Therefore the glass is part of the window as a whole, so a possessive of them fits.

I turn my head to the sky

There is no need to remove this, as maybe the protagonist is turning only his head, and not his whole body. All it does is add more description.

We bury the dead deceased in the sand

Again, there is no need to change this, it's really just what your preferred word choice.

Sorry if I'm overstepping the mark, but I feel that the story as a whole was really great, and some of the corrections you've suggested aren't really necessary. The ones I've left out I agree with, as it does need improvement, and I'm really looking forward to reading the next installment.

Roo

"The flames cloud my vision" Flames don't cloud anything. Smoke? Sure! Or maybe the shimmering heat of the flames could obscure her vision... But flames aren't really 'cloudy' in my mind.

"I stop at the nearest pod. There are six seats, five passengers" How convenient! I would think that the pod nearest to a hallway would be the first one full... Unless they're all trained to go all the way down to the end and leave the nearest ones open...

"against my seat and the cold, uncaring metal doing nothing to chill my raging blood." Does nothing?

"The pod hisses the sound of engines as its landing mechanisms kicking in" The pod's engines hiss as the landing mechanisms kick in?

"and –
– everything goes black and for some time between a moment and an eternity, I am in darkness so I wonder is this Heaven or Hell, even as I am –
– yanked back into reality"
This is an interesting way of setting something apart... I think I like it. But I also think that there should be a comma or something before the 'so.'

It seems kind of convenient that they were so close to a planet (btw, I think they need to construct their escape pods better in the future. xD) although I did like the idea of their ship crashing down behind them. Why did the ship go down? And also, I'd like to know more about our characters here. Does our MC see anyone he recognizes, or is he some antisocial nerd who never interacted with other people, instead staying locked away in some lab? Does he know the people he was in the escape pod with? Did all of the people in his pod survive?

This is a good start. I'll probably have a look at the rest, later.

Keep writing. ^^

I'd first like to say that I have never read a sci-fi story on YWS but I thought hey, why not? And that was a good decision because this was great! You really captured all of the confusion of the crash, which was perfect. I sort of read it in an entertainment way rather than a editing way but I don't think there was anything that needed changing. I'm going to go read part 2.

Oh I do quite like this. At first it reminded me of Star Wars (my version of a massive compliment) with the space/starship and the pods and almost Tatooine-reminiscent planet, but it gradually was turned into your very own story line. I like the first person perspective and enjoy that we don't know much of the main character yet- his(?) name, what he was doing on the ship, what happened to the planet, and if he's looking for anyone. I also think the idea of dog tags being added in, giving us (the readers) the image that the events are result of some kind of war.
In essence, I really like this and will definitely read part two and so on.

Very good work of science fiction. The other comments took my edits. Someone else said that decaying is not the best word, he's right a better word to use would be something like: deteriorating, disintegrating, degenerating, withering. The story is very descriptive, it is probably one of the best I've read on this site. You should finish this and publish it, a publisher would have to be an idiot not to publish this once you finish and edit it. Very good job. I wish you good luck.