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May the World Burn, Chapter One



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Thu Dec 15, 2011 3:19 am
Misfit says...



Part One



“From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.”



--“Alone”, by Edgar Allan Poe



1


The figure stands alone in the shadows. Completely alone. His baby-blue eyes shine bright in the blackness that surrounds him. He trudges slowly amongst the ruins of this damaged world. He stops, violently kicks aside a large piece of rubble, stares silently as it flies across the broken road. The bright blue eyes flit quickly back to where the blackened piece of concrete had previously lain. There, his eyes fall upon a single object, shimmering alone amongst the ugliness that is this place: a golden chain, and in the middle, hanging perfectly: a golden crucifix. His eyes stare mercilessly at the piece of jewelry as his fist clenches it tightly and it crumbles into dust between his cold, lifeless fingers.


+++


I jolt awake, the sweat sweetly trickling down my pale face. That dream. That same dream with that man. That terrible man of whom has been my main haunt for quite a while now. My Aunt Kat, God rest her soul, would always say, “Often, the dreams that reoccur are the ones that shape your life.” Wisdom like that right now would be greatly appreciated.
The loneliness engulfing me here is completely, and utterly unbearable. It is as if you had been running up the stairs, too excited to care, and all of a sudden there’s one less step than expected. And as your foot falls, it seems as though a rock of sudden dread and surprise has just dropped to the pit of your stomach. That is exactly how I felt that day when they took me away. Away from the sky, away from my family, my home, and into this underground hole.

Seventeen. I am seventeen and constantly going through the motions as lifeless as the place of which I now find myself. Just doing what is needed to survive down here. Every day, it’s the same routine, the same boring old schedule. This constant normality makes me want to run into a brick wall. I hate being down here. Trapped with no way out. Most nights, right before they come and make sure I’m asleep, my thoughts are not filled with what the next day will hold. No, my thoughts are of my family, my mother, father, and little sister, Klaire.
How are they doing? What are their lives are like up there? And do they ever wonder why I am underground in some government operation? Most of all though, I wonder if they ever miss me as much as I miss them.
I mutter a silent prayer that I’ll be able to see them again before finally letting unconsciousness take me harshly into its dark embrace.

Again I dream of those hideous blue eyes, appearing from the darkness behind me as I stroll. He then pulls out a knife with a black haze of smoke tightly wreathed around it. I want to yell, to scream, to wake up, but I am frozen to the spot: immobile. The knife flashes and I feel my own warm blood running down my neck. I fall down, forever and ever. Falling faster and faster. Then, seconds before my mangled body is finally able to hit the ground where it shall forever rest, I wake up.

“Joy Wotcher is required at the gate. I repeat, Joy Wotcher is required at the gate,” says the voice over the speakers. Wotcher? That’s me, I think. How should I know? It has been all too long since I have exchanged conversation with a human being. Although surely, I would much rather feel sorry for myself in peace; I rise to head to what surely will be yet another disappointment added to my sad existence down here.
After living underground for as long as I have, I have only ever seen “the gate” once. I was seven. Seven years old, being dragged through that awful gate into this new, terrible place. Nobody wants to admit it, but once you enter through the gate, the only way you’ll be able to leave is through a body bag. I myself, had thought once of taking it that far, just to get out of here. Of course, I never went through with it; I have more to live for than that.
As I get even closer, I think of making a run for it, to risk it all just for that sliver of hope. I realize, without noticing that I have been clenching my hand tightly around the last thing I have other than memories to remind me of my real home. A small, insignificant piece of jewelry given to me by my mother the day I was taken away. A golden crucifix is all that remains of my former life, the life that was worth living.

At last, the towering metal door of the gate is in my sights. The ominous steel structure looms above us all, and I am held back forcefully as the gate slowly opens, the doors slightly creaking at the enormous amount of force needed to push them open. I look longingly at what is beyond the gate as it opens: a sky. The stars are shimmering brightly, tempting me to leave this place to go live underneath them in freedom. I long to do it so badly, but looking at the golden chain hidden under my uniform I realize that it would be useless. After just reaching the gate I would be shot down before ever experiencing that magnificent sky again. That is something I would not, and could not risk.

I stand still and watch as an enormous crate is dragged inside. From what it looks like, I get to carry in the weekly food shipment. It is essential that the people from up above bring us supplies once a week, for without their aid, we would all die slow and awful deaths down here. As I keep looking I wonder, why would they need extra people to carry the supplies? They have always managed fine before. Especially now, the shipments have had a lot less to offer, maybe the people above ground are finally forgetting about us. I mean this base was created as a safety net, in case a war broke out. But seeing that it’s been so long, I think we’re just rotting away down here for no reason whatsoever.
All it takes is a few more seconds to see why I was called here. Not too long after the crate arrives, something else appears in front of the gate. Being pulled roughly by large men in black uniforms are children. Most are still in their pajamas, taken while their parents were sleeping. They cry, scream, and kick their captors sharply in the stomach. No effect. I feel my own tears beginning to well up in the corners of my eyes. I must not show weakness, so I straighten up abruptly and blink back the flow of tears.
“Hey, girl. I have a little roommate for you,” says a large guard gruffly as he forces a small child into my grip. I look down into her tear-filled eyes; she can’t be any older than eight. So small, so alone, and so frightened. I softly grab her arm while bending down to gently say, “Hey kid, what’s your name?”
“N-Nicole,” she mutters out through another round of sobbing.
“Listen, Nicole. It’s not so bad here; you have me to look after you no matter what. I’m Joy, but you can call me Jo.” I offer her my hand, but she slams her face into me and embraces me tightly.
“I want my mother though, I miss her,” she squeaks out softly into my stomach.
“I know,” I say as I return her embrace, “Me too.”


+++

By mid-evening Nicole and I are back in our cell. I ask her how she was taken and what had happened, but she just sits upright on her mattress silently. Staring expressionless at the wall, as if what I’m saying doesn’t compute whatsoever. Without any response, I decide that will be a conversation to have in the future with her. Without much else to do, I settle into my own mattress and relax for a few hours until I have to try and fall asleep. I mean, it’s the kid’s first night here. She had better be left alone for a while so that she can figure things out for herself. She also needs to get over the immediate grief of the knowledge that she will never see her family again.

I awaken slowly from yet another troubling, mysterious dream. I gaze lazily up at the bunk above me, where undoubtedly Nicole is sleeping away her grief. I really don’t want to wake the kid up, so I slowly swing my long legs over the side of my bunk carefully setting them down onto the freezing cement floor.
It still comes as quite a shock to me as my feet touch down onto the burning cold tile. It is as if, somehow, a bolt of lightning has come up from the floor in through my feet and up through my spine. Time to start another day.


+++



It’s wrong. It’s so wrong. The way they lock us in here like animals, giving us these ridiculous monkey-suits that we have to wear every day of our life. To take us away from the people who really love us, and most of all: giving us false hopes and dreams of escaping. We all know we will be here forever, and what can we do? We’re just children. Mere, insignificant kids.
After my second year here, I had already figured out how to pick the locks on my door. The hard part was remaining virtually invisible after sneaking out. Then again, they haven’t caught me yet on any of my early morning escapades, now have they?
I slide with my back against the wall of the dark corridor, trying to stay out of any light that there is. Remaining unseen is vital. I have no destination. I guess I just put my life on the line for some level of excitement to break the tedium of this less than mediocre existence. Sometimes it’s a food raid. Sometimes it’s seeing how far I can get until security gets too heavy. My favorite of course is sneaking to one tiny skylight I spied near the gate. It is possibly the most dangerous, but it’s more than worth it to see what most people down here may never see: the sunrise.
That beautiful majestic sunrise is the only thing that keeps me going down here. The hope of standing in a peaceful meadow watching the golden rays racing across the vast blue sky. Chasing away the darkness to bring forth the light anew. That is what I dream of. That is what I believe is true serenity; even though I know deep down inside that the only time I will ever be able to experience its godlike radiance is through the smallest skylight, looking up from under the ground.

As the great ball of flame rises, I am blinded. Immediately I shield my eyes. All I do is sit there for a while. Just to enjoy this rarity of being somewhat happy. It is then that I realize that my birthplace, New York City, is not too far from this awful place.
“New York,” I mumble softly. The city I recall now ever so slightly, the city in which I was raised as child. I know that my family is probably in our cozy three-roomed apartment. Probably talking about the news and other trivial things. They probably don’t even remember they ever had a daughter, and if they did, why didn’t they come for me?
I want to yell, to scream out, so that someone, anyone would hear me. Of course, I do not; that little yell could get me noticed, and I could end up with a bullet in my chest. Why must I be trapped down here in the first place? Why couldn’t someone else suffer this lifetime sentence of seclusion? And why did I not even say goodnight to my family before I went into my room that night? For now I know I will never be able to see them again. All I have left is hope, and down here, it really doesn’t mean too much.
I ask these questions almost every day now. I turn around quickly after I hear what I believe to be a hurried shuffling of feet. I stare with an angry gleam, ready to fight to the death. It’s the faded blue uniform of another prisoner that stops me from just about gauging their eyes out.
“Geez, don’t be so jumpy. You know if you attract too much attention you’ll get shot around here,” says the stranger.
Ignoring her snide comment completely I say softly, “Who are you?”
“It’s me,” she says.
“Me who?” I say with a humored smile inching across the corners of my mouth.
“You’re quite the joker aren’t you, Jo?” She says, lifting up her chin, surveying me. As if she has any sort of reason to feel superior. “And it’s Brea. Don’t you forget it.”
“Well, you seem to be quite the expert on “me”, but really, I know nothing about you. Now if you ask me, that’s just unfair,” I say.
“Life’s unfair,” she says with a smirk as she skips lightly away. “You just have to learn to deal with it.”
As her light footsteps fade away into the blackness, I realize how fatal the possibilities would be if she ever told anyone about seeing me. Fantastic. I’ve been discovered.


+++


I walk into the small room that Nicole and I share drowsily.
“Where were you?” Nicole asks timidly. “We can’t leave, can we?”
“No we can’t leave. And I just felt like stretching my legs. Go back to sleep,” I say simply, not really wanting to give away the fact that I had just been discovered. Nicole opens her mouth slightly as if she wishes to say something, but she thinks better of it and turns to go back to sleep. I eventually settle back in, almost in vain, to slumber.
“Destiny is usually just around the corner. Like a thief, a hooker, or a lottery vendor: its three most common personifications. But what destiny does not do is home visits. You have to go for it.”
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind
  





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Thu Dec 15, 2011 4:00 am
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dogs says...



Hey Misfit! Dogs here with your review today! This is a great piece. There is a lot of questions swimming around in the readers head as the read this that you leave un-answered but still continue on with the story which is good! It is that kind of suspense and curiosity that keeps the reader hooked and always wanting to read more. I love the beginning of how you start with the poem and then follow it up with the dream. That is fantastic, Edgar Allen Poe is my all time favorite poet with the Raven. I had to memorize that poem for english... I love it so much. Anywho! I found a few little mistakes here:

"stares silently as it flies..."

This should be "staring" silently. That would sound better, flow wise.

"Shimmering alone amongst the ugliness that is this place"

This kinda sounds like yoda speaking with the "that is this place" I suggest you re word or replace it with something else or just take it out.

"That terrible man of whom had been my main haunt for quite a while now"

This line is really awkward. Again the yoda voice coming in here. I do love star wars to but not enough for it to come into my writing lol. Anyways you should say something like "who had been haunting my dreams for quite a while now".

"right before they come and make sure I'm asleep"

Again a little awkward. Maybe say: before they come to see if I'm asleep. or: before they come to make sure that I'm asleep.

"I turn around quickly after I hear what I believe to be a hurried shuffling of feet"

This line should be the other way around to create a little more suspense and jump in the readers heart. For example try saying: I froze as I heard hurried shuffling of feet and quickly turn around.

Building off of that you have strong characters so far. The timid Nicole, the mysterious Brea, and the confused Joy. Or at least I conceder her to be confused because of all the questions that keep on going in her head and the constant nightmares. You have done a very good job at what I like to call "layering" Joy. She is tough on the outside with a soft spot for kids and the sky. She means business but is confused as to why these people are doing these things to her. The biggest layering factor is the cross her mother gave her that keeps her holding on to a different life. To life in general actually...

Anywho over all this is very good and I really enjoyed it. PLEASE LET ME KNOW THE NEXT TIME YOU PUT UP A CHAPTER AND I WILL REVIEW!!!!!!! Keep up the good work!!!!

TuckEr EllsworTh :smt032
Be a cool kid and do my Short Story Contest! viewtopic.php?f=404&t=97148&p=1122883#p1122883

"Quoth the Raven. Nevermore" - Edgar Allan Poe
  





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Sun Dec 18, 2011 8:28 pm
JudyG710 says...



Achuta Misfit. (Means hello. I'm such a geek. :D) Anyway, you said you wanted a review, so here's one for you. I found this work to be incredible! Quite honestly, I rarely find a piece I don't like. But this one, this hit my top five. It was well-detailed and exciting to read. I sort of felt nervous reading it, like I would get shot if I was caught reading it. :D I did find one or two typos, but as long as they were typos, that's fine. I really do get quite miffed when it comes to grammar/spelling errors. But, that's not entirely relevant with this piece. Quite honestly, at first, I couldn't catch whether your main character was a boy or a girl yet, so that was a tad confusing. I'm also quite confused on the reason why all these kids are underground. ?_? Perhaps you explain that all later though, so, I look forward to reading the rest of "May The World Burn". Keep writing, and may the Force be with you. :)
"Always believe in yourself. Do this, and no matter where you are, you will have nothing to fear." - Baron Humbert von Gikkingen
JudyG <3
  





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Sun Dec 18, 2011 8:48 pm
Cadi says...



Hi, Misfit, and welcome to YWS!

Now, this is a very interesting idea here - I saw you've posted a second chapter of it, but I've not taken a look at that yet, so this is going to be my thoughts on just this first chapter - which definitely has me asking some questions about your story (which is a good thing!). I'm interested to hear more about this strange underground place where children are imprisoned.

In terms of improving this, then. You have a lot of information to give the reader in this story, and my first and biggest point is going to be about how you get it across. There are a number of places in here where the sentences feel a little unnatural, and not really something the character would be thinking. For example, "And do they ever wonder why I am underground in some government operation?", and "this base was created as a safety net, in case a war broke out" - these feel very much like they're just here to tell the reader that the whole thing is a government operation. Things like this would be better off left for later in the story, so that your first chapter isn't just a huge info-dump. Let the reader wonder about it, and reveal it to them later on, through the plot. Another place where this applies might be when you're talking about the jewellery from your character's mother.

On a similar note, when there is information that should be given out in this first chapter, be aware of how you give it to the reader. Things like the start of the evening scene in the cell, where Nicole is grief-stricken: here, it would suffice to show here being unresponsive, and have your POV character simply think "perhaps I'll leave her alone for a bit". Telling the reader explicitly that Nicole needs time to get over her grief (the last two sentences of this paragraph) is unnecessary, when it's already been shown through the characters' actions. A lot of the time, it's a good idea to tell the reader things through how characters act rather than just saying "and it was like this, because this".

Related to this, your POV character asks a lot of questions about the underground prison, in a kind of "this is weird, why are they doing this, what's going on here" manner - and yet we then learn she has been here for about ten years. It seems that, having been here for so long, she should be slightly past this contemplation. It might be better to get the reader thinking about these in other ways - perhaps use Nicole, in her newly-arrived confusion, to ask these questions of your POV character, and show that the answers are unknown through their dialogue.

On the subject of Nicole: there's what feels like an inconsistency between Nicole on arrival, and Nicole in the cell. On arrival, she's speaking and responding and emotional; in the cell, she's unreponsive and motionless. I know that it's possible that her grief hadn't really hit until they made it to the cell, but this might be clearer if you add in something to do with the transition - have your POV character comment on how she has deteriorated, or mention the decline in some way.

A smaller point - your paragraph "At last, the towering gate..." has a few confusions in. By whom is your character held back as the doors open? In some places, you use a lot of words where fewer would be clearer - for example, when looking at "what is beyond the gate ... a sky", it would feel more natural to say she looks at "the sky beyond the gate", which is more direct. I am also not sure that "experiencing" is quite the right word for a sky - one might see the sky, perhaps, or experience joy at seeing it.

Down now to much smaller issues, there are a few words in here that you might like to take another look at. For example, 'reoccur' should be 'recur', and you should only be using 'whom' if referring to the object of a sentence (if you private message me, I'm happy to talk about this and any other grammar points at length, if you want). Don't worry about these word-by-word issues straight away - spend a while rewriting the piece as a whole, and then look through for spelling errors, typos and grammar mistakes.

I think that's about it - I do look forward to seeing the rest of this story, and any rewritten versions you post! As I said, the setting is most intriguing!
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Mon Dec 19, 2011 11:58 am
Twit says...



Hi Misfit!

Digging the Poe quote at the beginning, though it is a tad long. ^_^ To post a link to a topic, you just take the URL that’s in the address bar at the top of the page and copy and paste it. It saves people trawling through your portfolio, especially if you have a lot of stuff there.


The figure stands alone in the shadows. Completely alone. His baby-blue eyes shine bright in the blackness that surrounds him.


This is a strong beginning sentence, but you cheapen it by adding “completely alone”. We know he’s alone from the first sentence and that’s a good, simple statement. The second sentence makes it too OTT.

As a general rule, eyes don’t shine in the dark, but as this is in fantasy, it could be another species, so it doesn’t matter so much. Still “baby-blue” is an odd description to use. “Baby-blue” obviously brings to mind babies, and innocence and happiness; but you use it to describe a lonely figure in the shadows. You should definitely find another description. Just “blue” would probably work fine.


His eyes stare mercilessly at the piece of jewelry as his fist clenches it tightly and it crumbles into dust between his cold, lifeless fingers.


This is far too tell-y. You do need to have description of your characters so we know something about them, but this is too much. You know about actions speaking louder than words? Well here you’re not letting the actions alone. If you look at all the bolded words, they’re all saying the same thing—that this is One Bad Dude. But buy continually [i]telling[i] us that this is One Bad Dude, you lose impact, and instead of being sinister, he comes off as cheesy. If you take away all the bolded description here, you would be showing us a guy who destroys a crucifix. That’s enough; you don’t need any more, because it’s a pretty safe bet that anyone who destroys a crucifix is a bad person. Without the description, you show us a man who obviously loathes religion and has no qualms about destroying things of beauty and value; with the description, you tell us a hammy villain.



I jolt awake, the sweat sweetly trickling down my pale face.


“Sweetly”? Why “sweetly”?



That dream. That same dream with that man. That terrible man of whom has been my main haunt for quite a while now.


A similar problem here. Overegging the proverbial pudding. Short sentences are used to give impact to a powerful statement, but here you have three short sentences all about the same statement. It’s too much. What you’re saying here is “I HAD A REALLY DREAM!” “I HAD A REALLY REALLY REALLY BAD DREAM!!” “I HAD A TERRIBLE AWFUL DREAM!!!!”




The loneliness engulfing me here is completely, and utterly unbearable. It is as if you had been running up the stairs, too excited to care, and all of a sudden there’s one less step than expected. And as your foot falls, it seems as though a rock of sudden dread and surprise has just dropped to the pit of your stomach. That is exactly how I felt that day when they took me away. Away from the sky, away from my family, my home, and into this underground hole.


This took a while for me to get. We’re immediately out of the dream and the Bad Dude and straight into someone moaning about loneliness. I’d like more of a transition so we get to catch a breath between states.


No, my thoughts are of my family, my mother, father, and little sister, Klaire.


Is there a reason why Claire is spelt with a K, apart from being cool?


“Joy Wotcher is required at the gate. I repeat, Joy Wotcher is required at the gate,” says the voice over the speakers. Wotcher?


“Wotcher”? XD This made me snicker, and I’m not sure that was your intention. “Wotcher” is, and I quote, an English colloquial greeting, and it’s so Cockney, Artful Dodger, Joe Walker, etc, that it’s hard to take it seriously.



Of course, I never went through with it; I have more to live for than that.


Like what? So if I understand right, ten years ago Joy was taken underground for secret government nefarious purposes?


A small, insignificant piece of jewelry given to me by my mother the day I was taken away. A golden crucifix is all that remains of my former life, the life that was worth living.


The crucifix is important to her, right? So why would she call it insignificant?



After my second year here, I had already figured out how to pick the locks on my door.

Pick the locks with what?


“It’s me,” she says.
“Me who?” I say with a humored smile inching across the corners of my mouth.
“You’re quite the joker aren’t you, Jo?” She says, lifting up her chin, surveying me. As if she has any sort of reason to feel superior. “And it’s Brea. Don’t you forget it.”
“Well, you seem to be quite the expert on “me”, but really, I know nothing about you. Now if you ask me, that’s just unfair,” I say.
“Life’s unfair,” she says with a smirk as she skips lightly away. “You just have to learn to deal with it.”

This exchange leaves me confused. Does Jo know Brea or not? What is their relationship? It’s not clear at all.

---
Yo!

The main problem with this is your telling. You tell too much. Here’s a good article on that: topic41426.html If you spell out everything—like with the dream in the beginning—you leave so little to the imagination that your descriptions or characters or whatever come off as too inyourface.

Also, your word choice. Every word you pick matters; every word in the English language has different connotations and ideas connected with it, so if you pick a word that has an image connected to it that is different to the comparison you’re trying to make, the description doesn’t work.

You have a good narrative pace, and you dialogue flows well. I’m sorry if this came across as mean, but you did say to be critical. ^_^

PM me if you have any questions!

-twit
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Tue Dec 27, 2011 4:51 pm
JodyHairston0917 says...



Hey Misfit!
okay so i haven't read anything else but the first chapter so you'll get an honest, unbiased opinion of the first impression of this story. Overall, I did find myself becoming invested in the characters and caring about the turnout of this story. However, there are a lot of things that can be improved upon, (and I'll try not to repeat what has already been said :) ).

-Okay so I like the poem in the beginning, it sets the tone for the story and gets the reader wondering how it connects to the story, but, as someone already said, it would be nice if you cut it down a little. A mere quote could accomplish the same job.

-"the sweat sweetly trickling down my pale face" That seems a bit awkward and interrupts the flow of the piece. It makes it seem as if you welcome the sweet, and, consequentially, the dream as well.

-There is a general lack of voice throughout this whole piece. Until her name was mentioned, I was confused about the gender of the protagonist. Not a good thing. She uses a lot of dry phrases and awkward words that make her seem more like a unisex middle-aged simpleton than a seventeen year old girl. :/

-You tell us how lonely the character is when it could be more effective to just show us. let us draw our own conclusions and opinions of the character's life. Like Twit said, at times it becomes to inyourface.

-"Place of which I now find myself"? Awkward. Not something a seventeen year old girl would say.

-Show us this "mundane schedule" don't tell us.

-throughout the piece, we get a sense that the character is wallowing in self pity. This could be because of the fact that we know she has been in this place for ten years, yet reacts to everything as if she just got there. Or it could be because of your tendency to show and not tell. Either way, we get this constant repetition of how bad the character's life is. In fact, it seems as if that is the author's purpose of the whole chapter: to tell us how much her life sucks. It shouldn't feel that way. It should feel as if we are peeking into the natural thoughts and actions of a real person.

-Why aren't there other people to collect their new roommates? why is the protagonist the only person called to the gate? Why was Nicole specifically chosen to room with the protagonist? Am I supposed to have these questions? If yes than great, but if no, then you should probably find a natural way to answer them withing the chapter.

-"I gaze lazily"- this word seems a little awkwardly placed. try using a different word.

-I'd like to see the gate scene explored a little deeper. This is the kind of thing that would really open old wounds for the protagonist. You scratch the surface a little but don't really delve into it that much. seeing all those crying, screaming children must invoke some sort of emotional reaction from the protagonist. I want to see her really struggle with her emotions in this scene. If you do that, you could probably lay off the all that explaining you do about how miserable she is.

-"It's wrong...." is a bit awkwardly placed and comes a little late in the piece. we already know she hates her predicament. We know its horrific. Keep your references to this at a minimum.

-
“It’s me,” she says.
“Me who?” I say with a humored smile inching across the corners of my mouth.
“You’re quite the joker aren’t you, Jo?” She says, lifting up her chin, surveying me. As if she has any sort of reason to feel superior. “And it’s Brea. Don’t you forget it.”
“Well, you seem to be quite the expert on “me”, but really, I know nothing about you. Now if you ask me, that’s just unfair,” I say.
“Life’s unfair,” she says with a smirk as she skips lightly away. “You just have to learn to deal with it.”

This is a little awkward. The whole conversation doesn't really flow naturally. With dialogue, it helps to think of what you would say in that situation instead of what your character should say in order to move the plot along. That way your characters would seem less artificial.

All in all its a pretty strong first chapter and has a lot of potential. I find myself wondering where this story is going to go and wanting to read more in order to find out. So, technically, you've done your job. Just fix the little things I have stated above and you'll be golden!
"Love itself is what's left over when being in love has burned away." -Louis de Bernieres
  





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Fri Jan 06, 2012 10:53 pm
Carina says...



review #7 - team yellow

Hi! It seems kind of pointless to be the sixth reviewer when everyone before me already got into awesome details that I totally wanted to point out, but once I started reading, I couldn't stop. (And it's just my silent vow to myself to review everything I read in YWS.)

Anyway, here are some of the things that are already mentioned above:
• The poem seemed too long. It's beautiful, yes, and maybe it fits, but, well, nowadays people have the attention span of a goldfish. So unless you don't mind people reading the first three lines and stopping because there's just too much to read, I'd consider finding something shorter and to the point.
• You have a good hook, a good beginning, and a great story. (At least I can tell it will be, anyways.)
• You're lacking in a little voice. Like someone else said, I was very confused about the gender of Joy. In the beginning when her name wasn't mentioned, I thought she was a dude. (I don't know, I always assume characters are guys unless otherwise said. *shrug*) Then I realized that, uh, this dude's name is Joy. Still, maybe she could be a guy still. Then I realized that she'd be rooming with Nicole. Wait, that's weird. Maybe she's a girl. Yes, those were my thoughts as I was reading along. Perhaps try for a little feminine-sounding voice? A stronger one would do fine, though.
• Nicole. She wasn't really mentioned much. When you introduce a character in a novel, it would be best to bombard the character in the reader's face. What's she wearing? What's she feeling? What's her facial expression? etc. It seemed to me that Nicole roomed with Joy, and it's like, okay. Why is this important? That is your key question.

Alright, enough of that.
There are other things I noticed, too.


Transitions.
In some places, it's not clearly stated what's going on.
For example:

As I get even closer ...
I didn't know she was even heading to the gate. What what she even doing, action-wise?

As the great ball of flame rises, I am blinded.
Did she already make it to the skylight?

And Brea. I was a little confused with her encounter. Was she at the skylight? Is that outside? It wasn't really stated clearly.


Too much detail.
A lot of writers either are short in detail, or go over-board with them. Like, for example, we don't need to know the details about entering a house, right? You just say, "I entered the house," instead of going on and on about walking up the porch, fishing the keys out of your pockets, putting the key in the knob, opening the door, taking your shoes off, etc. All that's assumed.
Now, I don't think you have this exact problem. Instead, you have the tendency to changing subjects out of details. Like, instead of stating what was going on, you jumped on a train of thought.
It's okay, a lot of writers do this, so less thought (though not that much) and more action.

Tenses.
I didn't really choose them out individually because they weren't all that obvious, and actually, I'm still in the learning process with them (meaning I suck). Just be careful between switching between present and past tense.

Commas and fragments
I noticed you used commas in unnecessary places, and sometimes you didn't have a comma to join another sentence, resulting in a fragment.
They should be in the nitpicks.

Nitpicks
Everyone hates them, I know, but hey, it's how we improve, right?

I am seventeen and constantly going through the motions as lifeless as the place of which I now find myself. Just doing what is needed to survive down here.
If you come up to your friend and said this, would they have any idea what you're saying? No, so it would be a fragment.

I hate being down here. Trapped with no way out.
Fragment.

What are their lives are like up there?

I want to yell, to scream, to wake up, but I am frozen to the spot: immobile. The knife flashes and I feel my own warm blood running down my neck. I fall down, forever and ever. Falling faster and faster.

Red: A colon means you're about to list something. You're not really listing anything, but I know the style you're going at here, so use this guy instead: —
Underlined: There's not much feeling into this. Does she feel pain? Shock? Numbness? Or nothing at all?
Bold: Fragment.

I myself, had thought once of taking it that far, just to get out of here.
You don't need these commas.

I realize, without noticing that I have been clenching my hand tightly around the last thing I have other than memories to remind me of my real home. A small, insignificant piece of jewelry given to me by my mother the day I was taken away.
You don't need the first comma. The period should be a colon, causing the "A" to be lower-cased.

At last, the towering metal door of the gate is in my sights.
You don't have more than one sight, so that should be singular.

The stars are shimmering brightly, tempting me to leave this place to go live underneath them in freedom.
Awesome imagery, but I think the "to go" should be "and" instead.

Especially now, the shipments have had a lot less to offer, maybe the people above ground are finally forgetting about us. I mean(,) this base was created as a safety net, in case a war broke out.
Underlined: It should be a separate sentence.

“I want my mother(,) though, I miss her,” she squeaks out softly into my stomach.
“I know,” I say as I return her embrace, “Me too.”
I marked the comma you needed. The ones with no apostrophes are the ones you don't need.

Staring expressionless at the wall, as if what I’m saying doesn’t compute whatsoever.
Fragment.

She also needs to get over the immediate grief of the knowledge that she will never see her family again.
There's nothing wrong with this sentence; I just find it...hypocritical. I don't know, if that was your intent, then I apologize for looking pretty dumb right now. To me, this feels off.

I really don’t want to wake the kid up, so I slowly swing my long legs over the side of my bunk(,) carefully setting them down onto the freezing cement floor.


The way they lock us in here like animals, giving us these ridiculous monkey-suits that we have to wear every day of our life. To take us away from the people who really love us, and most of all: giving us false hopes and dreams of escaping.
Seems kind of like a fragment to me. If you added some beginning words instead of "to," I think it would be fine.

We’re just children. Mere, insignificant kids.
The second sentence is a fragment, so again, I'd use this dude instead of the period: —

After my second year here, I had already figured out how to pick the locks on my door. The hard part was remaining virtually invisible after sneaking out. Then again, they haven’t caught me yet on any of my early morning escapades, now have they?
This seems kind of random and out of place in where you put it. Perhaps try moving it?

That beautiful majestic sunrise is the only thing that keeps me going down here. The hope of standing in a peaceful meadow watching the golden rays racing across the vast blue sky. Chasing away the darkness to bring forth the light anew. That is what I dream of. That is what I believe is true serenity; even though I know deep down inside that the only time I will ever be able to experience its godlike radiance is through the smallest skylight, looking up from under the ground.
I love this paragraph. This is beautiful.

Just to enjoy this rarity of being somewhat happy.
Fragment.

“New York,” I mumble softly. The city I recall now ever so slightly, the city in which I was raised as child.
The second sentence is a fragment.
However, the first sentence kind of irks me. You see, it's pretty common in movies to have soliloquies or random moments when the character is talking to themselves, because if they didn't, the audience would have no idea what in the heck was going on. In books, however, you have that option. Without speaking, Joy can speak to the audience (kind of contradictory, I know).
You know what I'm saying? Say she lives in New York without her literally saying that out loud, because that would be kind of silly.
For example, I'd say:
      New York. My memory was foggy, but I knew that was the city I grew up in.

I know that my family is probably in our cozy three-roomed apartment. Probably talking about the news and other trivial things.
Fragment. Connect it to the other sentence.

They probably don’t even remember they ever had a daughter, and if they did, why didn’t they come for me?
I know who you're talking about, but you should specify "they."

All I have left is hope, and down here, it really doesn’t mean too much.
Good.

“Me who?” I say with a humored smile inching across the corners of my mouth.
I like this.

“You’re quite the joker(,) aren’t you, Jo?” She says, lifting up her chin, surveying me. As if she has any sort of reason to feel superior.
Bold: It should be connected to the sentence, so the "S" should be lower-cased.
Red: I'd replace the comma with "and."
Underlined: Fragment.

“Well, you seem to be quite the expert on “me”, but really, I know nothing about you. Now if you ask me, that’s just unfair,” I say.
Just format issues. Should be rewritten as 'me,'
(By the way, I'm not sure if I get this "me" joke or not. But then again, I'm really slow when it comes to jokes, so maybe that's not the problem here. XD)

No(,) we can’t leave.


Well, I think that's it!
I'll definitely keep reading.
Keep up the good work!
chaotic lazy
—Omni

the queen of memes
—InuYosha

secret supreme overlord of yws
—Atticus

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Mon Jan 09, 2012 2:57 pm
Noelle says...



Hi there!

Wow...I absolutely love this! There's a nice bit of mystery here, making me wonder what exactly is going on. I like how the only thing we know is that Jo is stuck down here for some government thing that they won't tell her about.

I think everyone above me covered all the technical writing things so there's not much more I can say. I'll be reading your next chapters soon, can't wait!

Keep writing! :)
Noelle is the name, reviewing and writing cliffhangers is the game.

Writer of fantasy, action/adventure, and magic. Huzzah!

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