Young Writers Society

Okay I know I just posted yesterday but I reviewed two pieces of work before posting this so technically I'm in the clear, right? This is the beginning of my novel, which I'm completely revising. Please go easy on this, like don't call me horrible names for writing something so disgustingly atrocious, if you know what I mean. because this book is my baby...and I love it...and I want you to love it too. I know this is a weird beginning, but once you get to know Luke more you'll be like, OH MY GOSH...if you know what I mean. Okay I'm rambling...it's because I love Luke and I want you to love him too. Well, here it is.


The inky black sky traced Luke’s outline through the window, and cast his shadow on the wooden floor. His eyes shone wide with fear as he shuffled through the drawers in the Food Preparation Center, the contents clattering as he pushed them back and forth. He looked both ways quickly, then found what he was looking for- a long, iron butcher knife.
As he ran to exit the room, his heart pounding in his mouth, Luke grabbed a few napkins and pressed them against his bleeding cheek, with throbbed uncontrollably. The blood had dripped onto his white dress shirt, and smattered across his cheek. He began to run down the long, narrow hallway, then heard a loud thump. He stopped dead, his heart in his mouth. Then with a sigh Luke realized it was only the wooden door he had allowed to swing to a shut. He hadn’t realized how jumpy he’d become of late.

Again, he began to run down the hallway, careful to hold the knife away from his body. The napkins were soaked through, and he let them drop to the wooden floor. His footsteps resonated throughout the hallway. Then there was a scream.

“No, Ashlee!” he exclaimed, though the hard beating of his heart in his ears kept him from hearing his own words. “Ashlee, I’m coming!” Luke shouted, as he neared the end of the dimly lit hallway. The mahogany door that had before been just another door in his world was not the key to his escape, the key to her rescue. He neared it, and grasped the iron handle with his free hand, swinging it open.

The tension was thick in the air as Luke bounded up the cheap tiled steps three at a time. He tripped over a step, and fell down, blocking his fall with one hand. He had scuffed his knee, and it hurt, but even more so he felt like someone had intentionally tripped him. But maybe someone had-everything was, after all, in shadow.

The thought only served to send shudders down Luke’s spine, and he continued his trek. As he turned the corner, he stopped dead, then crept back into the shadows. Two thugs, garbed in all black, with muscular builds and automatic pistols stood at the top. Snyder’s backup.
Just as suddenly, Luke bounded back down the stairs, his dress shoes clattering loudly. The thugs were on his heels, shuffling down the stairs as loudly as he did, with the same urgent need for haste. He thought he heard their muffled cries as they shouted for him, threatened and insisted that he come back. Just as he neared the mahogany door, it opened, and three more thugs started up the stairs. He was surrounded.

In that moment, Luke knew what he had to do. But he hadn’t planned it out this way, hadn’t intended for it to end like this. It didn’t matter, anyway. He grabbed the railing with his free hand, the blood from his previously acquired wound dripping down his face, and went back up the stairs. A man was there waiting for him, pistol in hand, while the other was further up the stairs. With all haste, Luke grabbed the man’s shoulder, and plunged his knife into the man’s chest.

With a cry, the man dropped the gun, and fell to the ground. Luke picked it up, and aimed it at the other man. He pulled the trigger quickly, fearfully, closed his eyes and heard the bang. Blood seeped down the stairs and onto his dress shoes as he found the second mahogany door.
He had to find Ashlee.

The gym was just ahead. Luke already knew that it was in chaos. He backtracked his steps, past the littered bodies on the floors. The sight of his former friends strewn across the fancy floors didn’t do anything to him. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing but Ashlee. Luke opened the gym door, pistol cocked, and ran in, all former caution thrown to the wind.
“Where did I last see her, WHERE DID I LAST SEE HER?” He had to scream it at the top of his lungs just to hear his own thought. The gym, just hours before decorated to perfection for the Winter Formal, was now a picture of chaos. The floor was strewn with prom dresses and dress shoes atop shattered torso’s. Skulls blown off of their owners lay on the scuffed gym floor, completely drained of blood.



*okay, this wasn't the original beginning. The beginning was...well, different. But this beginning is better, trust me. Does it take you by surprise too much? It's actually the very end...Luke has flashbacks...oh dear, confusing. Okay just tell me what you think, please. And not like they do at The young writer's club, when they say, "This is horrible you're a freak" because that would be mean*

That's crazy awesome! I am deeply impressed with your writing. Is this the same novel as the other post with Asher, or something different? Either way, I think you did a great job of making Luke into a real person. Yay!

uh, no it's different, very much so. BUt thank you. I only wish that MORE PEOPLE would crit this.

Misty Lynn wrote:uh, no it's different, very much so. BUt thank you. I only wish that MORE PEOPLE would crit this.

Haha...I know how you feel.

This was very impressive. You managed to build lots of tension with some great phrasing while also leaving lots to the reader's imagination. Good job.

just one corrections here...

Misty Lynn wrote: Luke grabbed a few napkins and pressed them against his bleeding cheek, with throbbed uncontrollably

"with" should be "which," just a simple typo I'm sure.

My only other corrections would be styling preferences, and I try not to give advice when it comes to style; each writer whould have his/ her own individual stlye they stick to.

*cough*bobo*cough*

Anyway, I love the beginning so far, and wish to read more. Soon.

Two questions I feel need to be answered in the intro though are

"Where is he?"

and

"Who is Snyder?"

Tha's all, eagerly awating more!

--Hunter

if I ever finish writing this, you'll find out. it's supposed to be kinda vague. Thanks for the crit!

Misty Lynn, I know this is old but I never got around to reading it on RK so I'm reading it now. I really enjoyed it and I know you have plenty more instore for Luke as I have heard from reading comments also on RK. Good times, good times. Hope to read more! My favorite part was:

The tension was thick in the air as Luke bounded up the cheap tiled steps three at a time. He tripped over a step, and fell down, blocking his fall with one hand. He had scuffed his knee, and it hurt, but even more so he felt like someone had intentionally tripped him. But maybe someone had-everything was, after all, in shadow.

That really brought the story to life and made the reader want to know more about Luke and his mysterious encounters! LOL You write good and I've always admired you for it. Great job Misty! Hats off to you!

I read some of it on RK like a long time ago. I really enjoyed reading it and like Bobo said it is awesome. I think that you described it well and can't wait to read more. Good job Keep up the good work. Hey tell me when you get some more poetry written, I really enjoy reading your stuff.

k, six months later....I finally worked on this! I'm pretty excited about it.


Chapter Two:
Backtrack: 6 months
St. Mary’s Reform


A small, dusty police car drove up the long, winding road to St. Mary’s Reform. It looked puny and unsophisticated in comparison to the grand building in the distance.
The car didn’t have air conditioning, and all of the windows were rolled up. Consequently, the passenger in the back seat was sweat-drenched, and breathing uncomfortably in the humidity. He was a kid, around sixteen or seventeen, with sweat-soaked ebony hair and stunning midnight blue eyes. His skin was tanned and glistening, his nose straight, his lips full, his eyebrows slightly arched and dramatic.
The passenger, named Luke Breinstein, looked once again at the police officer driving him, and asked for the fourth time, in a husky voice, “Will you please roll down the window.”
The police officer shook his head, replied, “Safety precautions,” and added, “We’re almost there anyway.”
Luke frowned, and mumbled, “What am I going to do, jump out the window?”
It had been a seven hour car ride from the Juvenile Detainment center in Oregon, and Luke had spend the trip in the back seat of a smelly police car, handcuffed, listening to the oldies station and cursing the sun for existing.
Luke leaned up in his seat, trying to catch a glimpse of the reform school he would be attending. Even from a distance, he could see that it was a massive structure, made of red bricks. It had large, curved windows, thick French doors, two side-buildings and three arched roofs, the middle being the largest. For acres around the school there was clean cut green grass, well kept hedges and gardens, and trees that bore every kind of nameable fruit. Surrounding that area was a large iron gateway, painted white.
The inside of the school was a labyrinth of maze-like hallways, stairwells and doors. Secret corridors led to unexplored rooms, and even underground passageways that led to unnamed places. It was no surprise that the mansion had once belonged to an eccentric millionaire. Because he had had no heir, his entire property had gone to the government, which decided to use the mansion as a special needs school for both genders.
Luke didn’t like to think that he had special needs. He had certainly been able to get along for himself for sixteen years in the alleys of Portland and Seattle. Still, he hadn’t argued. St. Mary’s was obviously a holding center for delinquents of both sexes, and if the government wanted to send him to a fancy boarding school as an alternative to prison, he wasn’t arguing.
Pleased to see that the car was stopping, Luke waited as the police officer got out of the car, walked around to his door, and opened it. The cool autumn breeze felt like heaven after all those hours in the police car. Luke turned around against the police car so that the officer could take off his handcuffs, then stared at the French doors. They were encompassed in shade, with tall bushes on either side. Ivy climbed up the sides of the school, all the way to the roof, and clung there.
Luke heard some scattered laughter from inside the school, and became blatantly aware of the fact that he was literally drenched in sweat. The police officer seemed to notice, too. He grabbed Luke’s elbow, and almost dragged him up the stairs to St. Mary’s. There, he knocked on the door. When there was no reply the man knocked again, then again.
Luke sighed, and leaned on the doorbell. It clanged over and over until finally a woman came to unlock the door.
The woman had a wide, phony smile that dwindled when she saw Luke, then expanded an extra two inches to make up for its flaw. Her graying brown hair was caught up in a tight bun, and she wore a knee-length navy skirt with a matching blazer.
“Come in, come in,” she said, with that same simpering smile that reeked of phoniness. Luke thought if she grinned any wider her lips might touch her ears.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?” She asked, placing her palms together and pointing them at him.
“Nothing,” he replied.
The police officer offered an equally fake smile and said, “Well, if you have this under control, I’ll be on my way.”
The woman nodded, “I trust you’ve sent the proper paperwork?” She asked.
The man nodded and walked out the door quickly. Luke took the moment to stare at his surroundings. The floors were made of black marble in an expansive room with high ceilings. Across the room there was a set of ivory colored stairs, that wound through several floors.
“Well, then,” the woman said, “I am Ms. Jeeves, Headmistress of St. Mary’s Reform. I’ll take you to our check in and get you all fixed up, all right?” Her smile looked more like a grimace to Luke, who nodded. She ushered him a long the floor, her high heels clicking the marble. “Do be careful not to scuff dear, the custodians are paid a considerable amount.”
They went up the stairs, to a second floor, where Luke was led through a web of hallways, which formed at acute angles and seemed to have no logic at all. Finally they came to a small brown door. Ms. Jeeves pulled out a ring of keys from the inside of her blazer, and unlocked the door.
The check in turned out to be a small, closet like storage space for clothes and books. Ms. Jeeves took a list from her pocket. “Luke Breinstein, I trust?” she asked. He nodded. “Ah, wonderful.”
Luke wasn’t about to ask why his name was wonderful, rather he put his arms out as she stacked clothes and books onto his arms from all sides of the room, consulting her list frequently.
“There!” She said, when Luke was thoroughly hidden by clothes and heavy, leather bound books. “Now, come along! Be quick, please, I haven’t all day.”
Luke stumbled along and followed the woman through the maze of hallways, until he found they were at some sort of door.
“This leads to your dormitory, dear, you’ll be sleeping in room D12 bunk 9, here is your list of classes and don’t be late for dinner, 6:30 sharp in the main room good day!”
Luke groaned and tried to open the door, wondering how he was supposed to find room D12 when he couldn’t see through his books. Finally, he got the door open, and succeeded to drop all of the clothes and books.
He picked them up and walked into the dormitory. Again Luke was faced with a maze of hallways, though this time there was no one to navigate it for him. The scratched wooden floors seemed more worn than the polished marble of downstairs, and Luke heard voices coming from different rooms, all labeled.
“Z43,” he mumbled, reading the dorm number, “N19, J22,” and finally, “D12.”
The room was large, with white walls, and rows of bunks, each with blue comforters and pillows. Luke couldn’t remember which bunk he was supposed to have, so he plopped his things onto an empty one.

Didn't really like it. Vague almost alwasy bugs me.

I thought it was really good. Great description first of all and I liked the way you started it. It drew you in immediately. As said before, it was a little vague. It left you with questions such as: who is Ashlee? Who is Snyder? Why are the people dead on the floor in the gym? and such things as that. It's a really good start, but it needs more clarity. It needs an add-on (which I see you have written, but I didn't see it explaining much. Keep on writing, please. This is a great start.

I loved the beginning - I'm a sucker for action beginnings, so you had me covered there. The second chapter seems fine, just a little uninformative. Anyway, it was well-written and I'd like to see some more.

Don't worry about the people complaining about it being vague - it just makes me want to read more to understand. You can't explain everything straight away, as longas as you keep the explanations coming slowly.

*laughs* Alright, here you go. Full edit, by request. Forgive me for being harsh; it's my editing style. Nothing against you!

The inky black sky traced Luke's outline through the window, and cast his shadow on the wooden floor.

You don't need a comma after window.. And the black sky cast his shadow on the floor? Don't you need a light source for that?

He began to run down the long, narrow hallway, then heard a loud thump. He stopped dead, his heart in his mouth.

You already said earlier in the paragraph that his heart was pounding in his mouth, so you don't need to say it again here.

The mahogany door that had before been just another door in his world was not the key to his escape

I'm guessing you meant now instead of not.

He had scuffed his knee, and it hurt, but even more so he felt like someone had intentionally tripped him. But maybe someone had-everything was, after all, in shadow.

Take out the second "but" and make Maybe the first word in the sentence. You already said "but" in the previous clause.

Just as suddenly, Luke bounded back down the stairs, his dress shoes clattering loudly.

Love the image there.. But just as suddenly as what? That just seems out of place there to me.

Luke already knew that it was in chaos.

The gym, just hours before decorated to perfection for the Winter Formal, was now a picture of chaos.

See the similarity in these two sentences? I say you drop the first one. The second one has better imagery, and the first one seems unnecessary.

He backtracked his steps, past the littered bodies on the floors. The sight of his former friends strewn across the fancy floors didn't do anything to him.

Is there any way you could combine these two sentences? You give similar information in both. Maybe you could write it as, "He backtracked his steps past the littered bodies of his former friends strewn across the fancy floors. The sight didn't do anything to move him." Something like that.

Overall view of the first chapter: Very nicely done! I may have picked it apart, but that's what I do. Trust me, you had a lot fewer errors than many of the other things I've edited. I really like the feeling you're presenting here. There's a lot of suspense and it really works. You have a great way of building the tension, and I'm amazed at how well you write!

Second chapter..

He was a kid, around sixteen or seventeen, with sweat-soaked ebony hair and stunning midnight blue eyes.

You've already made it clear in the previous sentence that he is sweating profusely, so I don't think you need to add that his hair is soaked with sweat.

The passenger, named Luke Breinstein, looked once again at the police officer

You really don't need "named" in there. In fact, it sounds more professional without it.

The inside of the school was a labyrinth of maze-like hallways

Because you've already stated it's a labyrinth, maze-like is implied there. Maybe change maze-like to twisting or.. something.

The police officer seemed to notice, too.

To me, this implies that the officer is going to offer him a rag or something. Instead, he drags Luke up to the school? For sweating? It just seems a bit odd to me.

"Come in, come in," she said, with that same simpering smile that reeked of phoniness.

You've already described her smile as being phony, so maybe you could find a synonym for this adjective.

"I trust you've sent the proper paperwork?" She asked.

"She" doesn't need to be capitalized here.

Other than that, there are just a few commas I would take out, but because it's more personal preference than grammatical correctness, I haven't given examples here.

So, my overall thoughts on Chapter 2.. I REALLY love the detail you've added in here! Of course this chapter is going to seem a bit toned down. It's supposed to give more information instead of more action! There's nothing wrong with that at all. You present the details very smoothly without boring the reader, and that's an excellent quality to have. In fact, I need to learn how to do that.. Anyway, there's a LOT of potential in this plot, and I can't wait to read more! I hope I wasn't too harsh in my critique. It's constructive criticism, my dear, and you write wonderfully.

thanks so much. I'm excited for every1 to read the next chapter...it's back to the Now

He was, by this time, exhausted, but that did not stop a torrent of oncoming questions from the other guys in his dorm. They wanted to know who he was and where he was from and what he had done to be sent there.
Their questions were like sticking messy fingerprints into a fresh, open wound: painful and unpleasant. Luke didn’t want to think about his past, let alone share it with a crowd of curious strangers. So he excused himself, and, still hot and stinking resolved to find a shower somewhere in the building.


* * *


Hours later, having succeeded in doing nothing but getting thoroughly lost, Luke
decided to try to trek back to his dorm. He had absolutely no idea where he was, except that he was on the bottom floor of the school. Besides that he now had an incredibly strong body odor, Luke realized that he was painfully hungry, and had probably missed dinner.
“Stupid, retarded maze for a school...” he muttered under his breath, walking up to the first door he saw and opening it with a passion. To his mild surprise, it led outdoors. Well...anything was better than trying to configure the hallways again. Luke stepped outside into the fresh air. He was in the back of the school, facing a small but very thick forest, with little more than a spider-web thin trail leading into it.
Luke snorted, and walked around the side of the building. The sky was clear and blue, with traces of the moon coming as the sun sank into the horizon. Ahead of him there was a short expanse of pavement, a puce green Dumpster and...Were those legs dangling out of the side of it?
“ARRRRGHHHH!” Came a voice from inside of the Dumpster. Luke gave a quirky half-smile and jogged towards the bin, curiosity driving him forward.
“Hey,” he said to the protruding legs. He heard a high-pitched yelp and suddenly the legs disappeared into the side of the garbage. A moment later a bobby blonde head appeared, covered with the remnants of that night’s dinner.
“Uh, hi!” She said, stunned to see the newcomer. “I, uh, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m, uh, Ashlee,” here she stuck one spaghetti-covered hand down towards Luke. He shook her hand, still smiling. Ashlee had shoulder-length blonde hair, bright blue eyes and full lips, that were now stretched in an embarrassed sort of smile. She was pale and thin, and covered from head to foot with all sorts of odd, moldy foods.
“So,” Luke asked, “Do you always go swimming in Dumpsters after dinner?”
Ashlee blushed furiously and replied, “Uh, no, not always. Well, sometimes.” She admitted, grabbing a huge chink of mashed potatoes off of her shoulder and dropping it discreetly back into the Dumpster.
Luke smiled, then concealed it and asked, “Why?”
“Well,” Ashlee began, hopping down from the Dumpster and slipping slightly, “I kind of lost my retainer...again. Doesn’t help that it’s see-through. But Ms. Jeeves would just die if I wasted three years of braces. I can hear it now.” Ashlee gave that sickly smile and said, “Miss LaShae, I trust you’ve found that retainer of yours? No? Well my dear that simply won’t do!”
Luke laughed. “That’s exactly what she looks like,” he said informatively. “Except...older, and less...plastered in spaghetti.”
Ashlee smirked. “Right.”
“Wait,” he added, somewhat offhandedly, “You’ve been here three years?” He then began staring fervently at the red brick patterns of the wall and acting as though he didn’t realize how bad he smelled.
“No,” Ashlee replied, also keeping her eyes suspiciously away from his, as though that would deter from the fact that she was head to toe in rotting vegetables and condiments. “”I’ve actually,” she pulled a bit of bread crust out of her hair and made a face, “been here for about six months. Just got my braces off though.” She offered a dazzling smile.
Luke nodded. “Well, I can’t possibly smell any worse, so if you show me where the showers are afterwards, I’ll help you look for your retainer.
Ashlee looked stunned. “Really? Oh, sure, I’ll show you where the showers are...or at least I’ll get you back to the boys’ dorm. I know how confusing this school can be.” She gestured to the Dumpster. “Well...dig in!”
“Right,” he agreed, and combed into the Dumpster. I’ve dove in worse, he thought, and plunged headlong into the mass.
Unfortunately for Ashlee, she was wearing a skirt, but that didn’t deter her. Luke almost thought she was making a game of this whole messy business. He did want to find the retainer before dark.
“Haha!” Luke said, forty-five minutes later. “Victory!”
He held the disgusting, slimy sort of retainer up in the air like it was a rare treasure, rather than four inches of molded plastic. Ashlee looked shocked for a moment. “Oh, wow. You found it,” she said in unconvincing tones. She looked at him in a fake sort of ecstasy, then laughed and tackled Luke.
“Sweet!” she proclaimed. Luke stood up shakily, and tried to shed as much of the spaghetti/potato/salami as he could, then they made their way to the back of the school, through the side door.
“Ugh!” Luke said as they walked through the hallways, leaving an unsightly trail for the janitor, “What is that?” he asked incredulously. “Is that-is that like, casserole or what?”
Ashlee laughed at the disgusted look on his face. “I don’t know Luke,” she replied, still giggling.
Luke frowned, then pulled a piece of slimy spinach out of her hair. “You have nothing to say,” he informed her placidly, dangling it in front of her face Ashlee laughed, and bit at it.
“Come on,” she said, “I’ll take you to your dorm. After that, you’re on your own.”
“What?” he asked, “But you were supposed to tell me where the showers are. It was part of the deal,” he reminded her.
“Right. Except that I don’t know where they are. Sorry!” Ashlee shrugged, and led him up the stairs. “Not my problem.” He followed her through the halls to his dorm, and she added, "Don't worry, you'll get used to our school soon. Newcomers are always confused.”
Ashlee smiled one last time, put one sticky hand affectionately on his messy sleeve, and skipped away. Just as Luke opened the door, he heard her shout back at him, “Maybe we’ll have some classes together.
Luke nodded, and kicked an anchovy off his shoe. “Sounds good,” he mumbled, more to himself than her.


Chapter Three:
Now
463 Lincoln Blvd.
Downtown Seattle

I’m going to throw up. It was her first conscious thought, and it was an unpleasant one. Ashlee’s stomach lurched, and her stringy, unwashed hair clung to her face. She was sitting on her legs, her hands and feet bound too tightly with a length of wire. Realizing this, Ashlee gave a small scream. The bitter feeling in her stomach grew as Ashlee recognized the place she was in. Cheap, paper-thin brown walls, crusty brown carpet, dim overhead lights, a partially cracked door leading to the sitting room...
Not again! Not here! She thought, fear coiling in her stomach and mixing with the nausea. What day was it? What had happened? When did it happen? Ashlee could feel a lump on her forehead where she had been struck, and other parts of her body felt sore too.
“Snyder,” she whispered aloud, her voice surprisingly hoarse. That disgusting man!
It was biting cold inside the trailer. Much too cold, Ashlee noticed with a start. Why hadn’t someone at least turned the heater on? Ashlee stood up, though her feet were still bound, and hopped backwards onto the queen sized bed, trying to bury herself in the blankets before she froze.
How can I get this wire off? she wondered, playing with it with the tips of her fingers. She had to get out of there. Once the Boss found out what had happened, she was as good as dead.
I’m so stupid! She chastised herself. Why did it take me so long? I was supposed to get the goods and get out. And the fact that the Boss had sent Snyder, the most insane man on the streets of Seattle to collect...
Ashlee sighed, giving up on the wire, though it chaffer her skin painfully. She felt more disgusting than dirt as she lay down against the coarse blankets, trying desperately to get warm. Then, one single syllable began to reverberate in her mind, over and over again until she felt so hopeless and despairing she wished she would die: Luke. He would hate her now. He would never want to come for her. Not after what she’d done.
Ashlee rolled over, and leaned over the bedside. I’m going to throw up.

* * *

Emergency Room Ward, Central Seattle

He was barely waking, confused by his surroundings. White walls, a strange, uncomfortable bed, tissue-like pajamas...why did his side hurt so much? Through the static in his brain, he thought he heard a voice, calling, “We’ve got him! He’s coming around!”
“Stop,” he muttered, waving one hand feebly at the voices, oblivious to the IV bracelet he wore. “Stop.” He was so tired, his head ached horribly, and the strange people where still talking, bustling around him in a state of frenzy.
Who are they? He wondered, then frowned, and asked himself a more relevant question: who am I?
As much as the young man in the hospital wing questioned himself, he couldn’t remember. His mind was reeling with strange images, almost like snapshots. A wildly decorated gym, with decapitated heads as balloons and streamers made from mangled bodies, punch bowls of mixed blood and ashes, an long knife plunged into an attacker’s chest...gunshots...
I’ve lost it.
The nurses were calming now, pleased to see that he was waking. The boy frowned, and drifted back into a strange sleep, beridden with the face of a beautiful blonde girl, and an odd, disturbing chamber hidden away in a large, brick treasure trove...with the question of his own identity in his mind all the while.