Young Writers Society

Prologue

June 16, 2356

It’s been so long since I wrote in this journal. At least ten years. So much has happened in those years that it might take me another ten to write it all down. But, that’s not why I’m writing today.

Today was the day I watched the world end. It seems that the radicals were far more organized than our governments told us. First came the mark nines or quadrahydroxide bombs. All at once, the top cities of the Earth were wiped out. Radiation spewing into the sky and soil. Great Britain is barren now. All that stands now are craters. North America is completely gone save a few out-landish areas. South America seems to have been sparred most of the onslaught along with Africa but Asia and Europe are more or less inhabitable now.

The chaos was enough after all of the bombs detonated at once. But then the rockets left. Hundreds of them. Escape vessels filled with the bombers. Once in the atmosphere they released some sort of gas. It’s forced everyone underground. The air is no longer breathable. I was lucky to still have a pen and this journal.

My wife and family are gone. My sweet, sweet Flora. What I would give to see her again…to hold her once more. But I should see her again soon. So many people trapped under ground. We will all die soon enough.

Perhaps one day a race of aliens will come and find this journal. If they do I tell them this: we did it to ourselves.

My pen is almost out of ink…I guess these are my last words…today…I watched the world end.

Chapter 1

Salvation

A young man scribbled quickly in an old worn book. It’s leather binding seemed archaic, but it was all he had to jot down his last fleeting thoughts. He glanced around the crowded cave, an old man had already died; his clothing stolen from him. A middle aged woman cradled her child in her arms as it cried.

“Some society we made,” said a boy. His tanned skin glistened with sweat against the pale lighting of the cave. “A better tomorrow my ass.” He kicked at the hard rocky floor. The younger ones always felt the most robbed when death was upon them. Thoughts of a life yet lived, family members forgotten in an instant, to a person’s true selfish desires.

“Be grateful,” said the young man who had been writing, “Be grateful you are still alive at all. Billions of people are gone and all you can think about is yourself.”

“Whatever. Does it really matter what I think or feel now. We’re all gonna die anyway.”

“Here,” the leather journal flew from the writers arm to the boy, “Write down your feelings instead of infecting us with them." He laid his head back against the cave wall, taking in a few breaths. They hurt now. The carbon dioxide was building up fast. He was feeling sleepy now. So sleepy.

There was no more crying in the tunnels. No doubt, the children’s tiny lungs could no longer handle the poison. So…This is how it ends. I’ll be with you soon, Flora.

“Dr. Uraton. Dr. Uraton, wake up.” A small plastic mask was placed over the writer’s pale face. Oxygen pumped into his lungs, filling the red blood cells and sending them through ought the body. He coughed a moment before opening his eyes.
Two large men stood over him, each wearing oxygen masks. “Thank goodness. We feared you had already passed.”

“What is going on?” asked the doctor as he pushed a few strands of brown hair from his eyes.

“We were sent to retrieve you. By orders of the Royal Kingdom.” He grabbed hold of the Doctor’s arm and pulled him up. He was fairly weak and couldn’t have fought if he wanted to. “ We have a transport waiting at the mouth of the cave.”

“I don’t understand what is happening.” He wiped sweat from his cool, light cerulean eyes. It stung deeply even more after he wiped them. His contacts were dried out and made it difficult to see in the dark cave.

“Just hurry along, we have to get you back to the Sanctuary.” Even with blurred vision the bodies were easy to see. The closer they got to the cave opening the more dead there were. The ground became softer and unstable as they walked. It was hard to tell, but Dr. Uraton knew they were walking on bodies. Those who were not fast enough, those who had lost their balance. A true testament to humans and their worth.

The sky was black. It was noon when Uraton had entered the cave. He knew only a few hours had passed but the new toxic atmosphere must have reacted badly with the already existent air. A small craft hovered a few feet from the ground, fighting against the winds. It produced the only light for miles from its small porthole windows.

“Get in,” set of stairs came down from the bottom of the ship. The two men stood behind Uraton as he made his way up. He found himself in a small white room. The fluorescent lights reflections on the metal walls were near blinding.

“Removing toxic atmosphere” said a serene female voice. A hissing sound filled the room for a brief moment before stopping. “Detoxification complete. You may now remove your masks and enter the ship.” A white door slid up into the ceiling allowing the three men to venture forth.

They started to remove their gear. The large masks hit the metal tables first, followed by body armour and a number of hidden weapons. Uraton blinked heavily to try and see things a bit clearer but it was no good.

“Don’t worry, Doc, once we get to the Sanctuary you can get rid of those contacts. I’ll be glad to be back there myself. Earth sure went to hell fast.” He spook of it so casually, as if it were nothing to fret over. So many dead and all he can do is make a snide remark.

Uraton moved on the man. In a blink he had him pinned to the wall, face to face. He glared into those green, uncaring eyes with distaste.

“I lost everything. And now I’m being abducted by you lot who don’t even tell me your names and herd me into this hover ship. All you do is make some snide ass remark about a planet that has been fumigated like a house of vermin.

Another blink and Uraton was on the ground. His face slammed to the floor and a boot jammed in his inner thigh applying pressure to some unmentionable areas. “I’m Jack. This is my partner Louis. Frankly I could give a shit less about you and your life. You’re just another bug. Another slimy, smelly slug of human filth.” He breathed deep in Uraton’s ear applying even more pressure. “You should be dead. Be grateful.”

He released the Doctor. Louis simply chuckled as he took off the rest of his gear. Jack stuffed his in a locker before going to a small room on the side. The sound of running water gave the impression of a shower.

Uraton sat up after catching his breath and rubbed his thigh. He face throbbed and felt a little swollen but the worst of it all was he had lost a contact. It had been hard enough to see with them dry but now he might as well have been blind in one eye.

“Let’s go,” said Louis. He helped Uraton to his feet before pushing him out of another door and into the hall. They walked up two flights of stairs before Louis opened a door and pushed the Doctor in. It slid shut, locking him inside.

“What the hell is going on,” Uraton said to himself. He sat on the small bed that had been furnished. It seemed like any other room. It had a desk across from the bed covered in papers and books. It all seemed so odd. He was trapped in a room with no clue as too why and he had just been pinned to the ground by some sort of brute.

Sitting in a chair were a set of clean clothes. He looked at his suit, seeing all its tears and cuts. Time to clean up I guess. The wall opened revealing a small shower. It seemed to be a sonic shower but it would get him clean al the same. He threw his tattered clothes to the floor and climbed into the shower. It activated at once sending the feeling of water across Uraton’s body. Dirt melted away from his small waist. It was a wonder Jack hadn’t broken him. It was a calm feeling, having water rush over him. He just leaned against the wall a moment enjoying it before it turned off automatically.

“The profile was right, but you’re a lot hotter in person,” said a woman as Uraton got out of the shower. He blushed at once as he covered his privates with the clean clothes. She ran her thin fingers through her scarlet red hair as she giggled. She uncrossed her legs and stood up, walking to the naked Doctor.

A well-manicured nail ran down his chest to where he had placed the clothing. “Glad to see Jack didn’t rough you up to bad. You really must excuse him, he is a bit more extreme than most of us would like, but good help is hard to find.” Her eyes were like diamonds: so clear yet reflective. They bore into Uraton as he lost himself in them. “Hurry up and get those on, we’ll be at the Sanctuary soon.”

The fingernail ran back up his chest and to his chin, leading it closer to the woman’s mouth. They were mere centimeters away before she simply walked away. The door shut behind her. Uraton sighed and dropped the clothes shielding his privates.

How intoxicating. Whoever she was she left a feeling of want and desire along with a feeling of dread and fear. He slipped on the white clothes. They reminded him of early twenty-first century nurse’s scrubs. He looked out of the window to see space. Stars scattered across the endless abyss. Then there was earth; dark and cold. Lifeless.

The transport shuddered, forcing Uraton onto the bed. It shook a little more before the window shut. Then with a frightful lunge the transport had come to a complete halt.

“All passengers please go to the fourth floor exit area. We hope you enjoyed your journey and welcome to the Sanctuary.” The cold computer voice cut out and Uraton’s door opened. People were coming out into the hall wearing the same clothes as him.

I don’t like this at all…

Hey Adam!
I remember reading something similar by you before, I think...it gave me an odd feeling of deja vu o-O Anyways, here's my crit:

June 16, 2356

It’s been so long since I wrote in this journal - at least ten years. So much has happened in those years that it might take me another ten to write it all down. But[s],[/s] that’s not why I’m writing today.

Today was the day I watched the world end. It seems that the radicals were far more organized than our governments told us. First came the mark nines or quadrahydroxide bombs. All at once, the top cities of the Earth were wiped out, radiation spewing into the sky and soil. Great Britain is barren now. All that stands [s]now [/s]are craters.(1) North America is completely gone save a few outland-ish areas. South America seems to have been spa[s]r[/s]red most of the onslaught, along with Africa, but Asia and Europe are more or less uninhabitable now.

The chaos was enough after all [s]of[/s] the bombs detonated at once. But then the rockets left, hundreds of them, escape vessels filled with the bombers. Once in the atmosphere they released some sort of gas. It forced everyone underground. The air is no longer breathable. I was lucky to still have a pen and this journal. (2)

My wife and family are gone. My sweet, sweet Flora. What I would give to see her again…to hold her once more. But I will see her again soon.[s] So many people trapped under ground.[/s] We will all die soon enough.

Perhaps one day a race of aliens will come and find this journal. If they do I tell them this: we did it to ourselves.

My pen is almost out of ink. I guess these are my last words: today, I watched the world end.

A young man scribbled quickly in an old worn book. Its leather binding seemed archaic(3), but it was all he had to jot down his last fleeting thoughts. He glanced around the crowded cave. An old man had already died, his clothing stolen from him. A middle aged woman cradled her child in her arms as it cried.

“Some society we made,” said a boy. His tanned skin glistened with sweat in the pale lighting [s]of the cave[/s]. “A better tomorrow my ass.” He kicked at the hard rocky floor. The younger ones always felt the most robbed when death was upon them. Thoughts of a life yet lived, family members forgotten in an instant, to a person’s true selfish desires.(4)
“Be grateful,” said the young man who had been writing. “Be grateful you are still alive at all. Billions of people are gone and all you can think about is yourself.”

“Whatever. Does it really matter what I think or feel now? We’re all gonna die anyway.”

“Here,” the leather journal flew from the writer's arm to the boy, “Write down your feelings instead of infecting us with them." He laid his head back against the cave wall, taking in a few breaths. They hurt now. The carbon dioxide was building up fast. He was feeling sleepy [s]now[/s].(5) So sleepy.

There was no more crying in the tunnels. No doubt[s],[/s] the children’s tiny lungs could no longer handle the poison. So…this is how it ends. I’ll be with you soon, Flora.

“Dr. Uraton. Dr. Uraton, wake up.” A small plastic mask was placed over the writer’s pale face. Oxygen pumped into his lungs, filling the red blood cells and sending them throughout his body. He coughed a moment before opening his eyes.

Two large men stood over him, each wearing oxygen masks. “Thank goodness. We feared you had already passed.”

“What is going on?” asked the doctor as he pushed a few strands of brown hair from his eyes.

“We were sent to retrieve you. By order[s]s[/s] of the Royal Kingdom.” He grabbed hold of the Doctor’s arm and pulled him up. He was fairly weak and couldn’t have fought if he wanted to. “We have a transport waiting at the mouth of the cave.”

“I don’t understand what is happening.” The doctor wiped sweat from his cool, light cerulean(6) eyes. It stung deeply even more after he wiped them. His contacts were dried out and made it difficult to see in the dark cave.

“Just hurry along, we have to get you back to the Sanctuary.” Even with blurred vision the bodies were easy to see. The closer they got to the cave opening the more dead there were. The ground became softer and unstable as they walked. It was hard to tell, but Dr. Uraton knew they were walking on bodies. Those who were not fast enough, those who had lost their balance. A true testament to humans and their worth. (7)

The sky was black. It was noon when Uraton had entered the cave. He knew only a few hours had passed but the new toxic atmosphere must have reacted badly with the already existent air.(8) A small craft hovered a few feet from the ground, fighting against the winds. It produced the only light for miles from its small porthole windows.

“Get in.”

A set of stairs came down from the bottom of the ship. The two men stood behind Uraton as he made his way up. He found himself in a small white room. The fluorescent lights reflections on the metal walls were near blinding.

“Removing toxic atmosphere,” said a serene female voice. A hissing sound filled the room for a brief moment before stopping. “Detoxification complete. You may now remove your masks and enter the ship.”

A white door slid up into the ceiling allowing the three men to venture forth.

They started to remove their gear. The large masks hit the metal tables first, followed by body armour and a number of hidden weapons. Uraton blinked heavily to clear his vision but it was no good.

“Don’t worry, Doc, once we get to the Sanctuary you can get rid of those contacts. I’ll be glad to be back there myself. Earth sure went to hell fast.” He sp[s]o[/s]oke of it so casually, as if it were nothing to fret over. So many dead and all he could do was make a snide remark.

Uraton moved on the man. In a blink he had him pinned to the wall, face to face. He glared into those green, uncaring eyes with distaste.

“I lost everything, and now I’m being abducted by you lot who don’t even tell me your names and herd me into this hover-ship. Yet all you do is make some snide ass remark about a planet that has been fumigated like a house of vermin!"(9)

Another blink and Uraton was on the ground. His face slammed to the floor and a boot jammed in his inner thigh applying pressure to some unmentionable areas. “I’m Jack. This is my partner Louis. Frankly I could give a shit less about you and your life. You’re just another bug. Another slimy, smelly slug of human filth.” He breathed deep in Uraton’s ear applying even more pressure. “You should be dead. Be grateful.”

He released the Doctor. Louis [s]simply[/s] chuckled as he took off the rest of his gear. Jack stuffed his in a locker before going to a small room on the side. The sound of running water gave the impression of a shower.(10)

Uraton sat up after catching his breath and rubbed his thigh. He face throbbed and felt a little swollen but the worst of it all was he had lost a contact. It had been hard enough to see with them dry but now he might as well have been blind in one eye.

“Let’s go,” said Louis. He helped Uraton to his feet before pushing him out of another door and into the hall. They walked up two flights of stairs before Louis opened a door and pushed the Doctor in. It slid shut, locking him inside.

“What the hell is going on?” Uraton asked himself. He sat on the small bed that had been furnished (11). It seemed like any other room. It had a desk across from the bed covered in papers and books. It all seemed so odd. He was trapped in a room with no clue as too why and he had just been pinned to the ground by some sort of brute. (12)

Sitting in a chair were a set of clean clothes. He looked at his suit, seeing all its tears and cuts. Time to clean up, I guess. The wall opened revealing a small shower. It seemed to be a sonic shower but it would get him clean all the same. (13) He threw his tattered clothes to the floor and climbed into the shower. It activated at once sending the feeling of water across Uraton’s body. Dirt melted away from his small waist.(14) It was a wonder Jack hadn’t broken him. It was a calm feeling, having water rush over him. He just leaned against the wall a moment enjoying it before it turned off automatically. (15)

“The profile was right, but you’re a lot hotter in person,” said a woman as Uraton got out of the shower. He blushed at once as he covered his privates with the clean clothes. She ran her thin fingers through her scarlet red hair as she giggled. She uncrossed her legs and stood up, walking to the naked Doctor. (16)

A well-manicured nail ran down his chest to where he had placed the clothing. “Glad to see Jack didn’t rough you up too badly. You really must excuse him, he is a bit more extreme than most of us would like, but good help is hard to find.” Her eyes were like diamonds: so clear, yet strangely reflective. They bore into Uraton as he lost himself in them. “Hurry up and get those on, we’ll be at the Sanctuary soon.”

The fingernail ran back up his chest and to his chin, leading it closer to her mouth. They were mere centimeters away before she simply walked away. The door shut behind her. Uraton sighed and dropped the clothes shielding his privates.

How intoxicating. Whoever she was she left a feeling of want and desire along with a feeling of dread and fear. He slipped on the white clothes. They reminded him of early twenty-first century nurse’s scrubs. He looked out of the window to see space. Stars scattered across the endless abyss. Then there was earth; dark and cold. Lifeless.

The transport shuddered, forcing Uraton onto the bed(17). It shook a little more before the window shut. Then with a frightful lunge the transport came to a complete halt.

“All passengers please go to the fourth floor exit area. We hope you enjoyed your journey and welcome to the Sanctuary.” As soon as the cold computer voice cut out,Uraton’s door opened. People were coming out[18] into the hall wearing the same clothes as him.

I don’t like this at all…

NOTES:

1. Craters “stand”? I would change this to something more cogent – “all that populates the land” or “all that resides there” etc.
2. Why a pen and a journal? How did he get them? Why did he have them? If this is 2356, wouldn’t he have something more modern? Assuming that pen and paper is by now somewhat obsolete, who grabs such an archaic form of communication (or whatever) in the middle of such a disaster?
3. Again, why the journal and pen? Is it just me, or is that SO cliché? No offense. I just think you could do better. Either give him a reason or give him something modern to work with, IMHO.
4. This makes no sense. Revise the sentence structure. You’re trying to say that the boy is being selfish, yes? “Thoughts of a life yet lived swept memories of the lost aside in the wake of personal desire” or something similar. Also, how is it selfish to disparage a society that just destroyed itself? Make the boy's statement more self-centered.
5. You repeat this sentence structure and the word “now” too much. Vary it. “He felt sleepy.”
6. I admit I am somewhat prejudiced against the word cerulean, but IMHO you’re better off just saying blue. This doesn’t add to my image of the guy, and (to me, anyway) reduces the credibility of the author.
7. ??? Not sure what you mean by this statement. Also, your sentence structure is repeating again, and it gets dull. Liven it up a bit with some compound sentences – please!
8. These few sentences should be rearranged, as by the time I got to the last one I was confused as to what you were trying to say. IMHO it would read better as “It had been noon when Uraton entered the cave, and he knew only a few hours had passed. When he left, however, the sky was black, turned thick and toxic by the bombers’ chemicals’ reaction with oxygen” or something. Balance it a bit more. Sentences are in a way like chemical equations. You have to have a bit of this there and a bit of that here and so on in order to get the desired result, whether it is something soft and emotional or sharp and action-oriented.
9. Nice simile; however, I’d like to see a bit more tension here. Your sentence structure is habitually short, which means your “action” scenes don’t stand out as they should have. Work on creating some tension here. Also, you’ve already said “snide remark” – change it.
10. Suggested, indicated he was taking a shower, whatever. I think "gave the impression" is the wrong phrase; also, it's a bit wordy. Always simplify if possible, unless there is a good reason why that phrase is important.
11. "Furnished" sounds wrong. Supplied?
12. Um, what is he, stupid? He was pinned to the ground because he attacked the guy. And what does that have to do with being locked in a room? Rephrase this.
13. Here you imply that a sonic shower is less efficient than an ordinary one. Perhaps the “but” is misplaced?
14. This seems a funny image, LOL. Perhaps better to say “small frame” rather than just waist?
15. Be more creative here! "He allowed the sensation of the water to calm his racing heart, leaning against the wall a moment to enjoy the feeling before the shower turned itself off."
16. Haha. This is a funny scene. However…a few issues. 1. I don’t know the exact geography of his “cell” but if the shower is in the wall, why didn’t he see/hear the woman coming in? 2. Sentence structure! Please practice varying your sentences a little more. The repetitive structure dulls your story and lessens the flow for the reader. If you want some help with this, just PM me
17. **giggles** I won’t comment on that one. Suffice it to say that describing him as overbalancing and falling onto the bed would be a more…appropriate image.
18. HOW were they coming out? Were they flooding the corridors? Or were they straggling? A bit of description would liven up this scene.

FINAL COMMENTS:

Overall I’d say the things you need to watch are your sentence structure and wordiness – you tend to get a bit repetitious and often take the long way where only a few words would do (and although that’s OK to an extent, sometimes it just doesn’t flow). A bit more description would be nice too, and I would advise perhaps opting for a less “play-by-play” approach and a more cinematic approach re: characters’ movements etc. So instead of including every little thing he does, just assume that it is done (e.g. “He threw his tattered clothes into the floor and climbed into the shower. It turned on at once” could become “Throwing his tattered clothes to the floor, he stepped into the shower. It felt exactly like water…”). I do the same thing so I’m hardly the person to comment, LOL, but from what I’ve learned it just takes practice to achieve the right level of necessary and informative detail. I was interested by the plot and the character; the story sounds intriguing so far and I would like to hear more. I do think the conflict between Uraton and the radicals(?) should be emphasized a little more, as should the difference in atmosphere between under and aboveground, and earth and ship. At this point it reads a little…flat, somehow, and I think that’s because of the (nearly) uniform sentences. With a little bit of variation you should be able to create differences in mood etc. which will help the reader flow with the story.

Hope that helps!

Cheers,
~bubbles

I really loved it and agree with most of the above review. I'd love some more detail, from inside the air craft and once again the pen and paper thingy as mentioned above. But it kept me reading and I enjoyed it which I think makes this a very good piece of writing as I get bored extremely easily
Very good.

*hugs Bubbles*

Thanks!

Fantastic! I love your style and dialogue. It's very real, descriptive, complete. I also liked how you kept with the little "contact" nuance throughout the entire piece. Too often it seems writers say something, get caught up in what they're writing, and forget that "something" they introduced earlier. It helps us connect easier with the doctor.

Speaking of the doctor, however, I though his character was a little forced and/or underdeveloped at times. I want to know more about this guy. What's his personality like. Take time at the beginning of your novels to solidify your main characters! Get inside his head. *Brilliant idea* In fact, why don't you write a flashback into the doctor's past after he passes out. Show us the relationship he had with the wife&kids. Tell us about his job. Flesh him out! Just an idea, but think about it .

Anyways, I will now proceed to dissect Temporal with a scalpel:

So much has happened in those years that it might take me another ten to write it all down. But, that’s not why I’m writing today.

Awkward. Which is a very bad thing, considering that these are practicaly the first lines of your novel. I don't know.... why don't you switch up the sentence structure and find another word for "write"

All at once, the top cities of the Earth were wiped out. Radiation spewing into the sky and soil.

How 'bout: All at once, the major cities of [s]the[/s] Earth were wiped out, radiation spewing into the sky and soil.

All that stands now are craters.

AUGGHHH!!! Too many "nows". Cut 'em out, cut 'em out!

out-landish

Please. Use a different word. Out-landish is child-ish.

I was lucky to still have a pen and this journal.

Yes, listen to bubbles about the journal thing. It's your story/world, but don't you think they'd be using a computer??? Definately, i'd say.

…today…I watched the world end.

Too dramatic. This guy is writing in his journal. He's not going to use the "triple dot" thing or writing style techniques like repitition to wind up his entry.

Thoughts of a life yet lived, family members forgotten in an instant, to a person’s true selfish desires.

Why are you calling the kid selfish?????? He doesn't seem selfish to me. I'd be bummed out to if the world blew up.

the leather journal flew from the writers arm to the boy

Wait a second. Isn't this the doctors "prescious" journal. Why is he chucking it at a kid he doesn't know from adam?

So many dead and all he can do is make a snide remark.

Awkward. Re-structure this.

His face slammed to the floor and a boot jammed in his inner thigh applying pressure to some unmentionable areas.

Again, wait a second. Wasn't "Jack" relieved a couple minutes ago that the dctor was alive? Why is he attacking him all of the sudden?

You should be dead. Be grateful

How 'bout: You should be dead. Be grateful you're not.

Dirt melted away from his small waist.

Small waist?? You're making the good doctor sound awfully feminine.

How intoxicating. Whoever she was she left a feeling of want and desire

Hey!? Didn't he just loose his wife? Don't you think he'd spend a bit more time mourning and being loyal before he started feeling "attracted" to the opposite sex???? Seems unrealistic, unless he didn't love his wife.

Anyways, cool. Looking forward to the next installment!

-Kylan

Strangely I found nothing wrong with the prolouge.

applying pressure to some unmentionable areas.

I just love that.

“The profile was right, but you’re a lot hotter in person,”

that too.

Bravo, very good. But I refuse to read anymore of it through a computer screne, you must publish this and autograph my copy.

That probably didn't help at all did it?


Anyways...

*pins a button on Adam's chest* Welcome to the romantics club, here's your jacket and hat.

Ciao Adam. ^_^

I'll be brief, as weariness has my thoughts skipping the surface of lucidity and it seems Bubbles has gotten quite a bit of both technical aspects and story questions.

All in all, it held a certain tangibility--I've read, off an on, fragments of your Atlantis novel--and this felt more grounded, more consistent in grammatical and structural foundation as well as in some of its pacing. ^_^

That said, you've indisputably things that dragged an otherwise intriguing story.


PACING

Oy, it might be more precise to put this under the banner of transitions. Though a good short story--and even novels at some point--'summarise' or skim moments to move on to the more pertinent parts of the tale, this tended shift without rightly grounding itself.

From the prologue, to the 'cave' scene--in which we've various characters with similar if not the same nouns to designate them; and interaction without names or ever a harking back to their actions--to the Doctor drifting off only to wake to more characters...who are what? From where? To a ship in which our main character ends up in the shower rather abruptly soon after confronting his rescuers--impulsively and unexpectedly--with irritation; to the shower, where a woman--another character--decides to interject herself while he's stark naked and taunt him...

Ach, naturally, things can happen quickly in narrative. Naturally, more than two chracters can drop in without being disorienting or faceless to the reader.

In the end, I think it's the manner in which the main character relates to them that balances perspective for the reader. And the Doctor is rather distinctly void of either outwardly described reaction, and of inner monologue, response, action.

And so, the pacing seems rushed or distracted, like foil pulled over a car's cracked window. Sans glass behind, it's neither a mirror on one side; nor a regular surface on the other.

Which leads - pacing caught on character - to characterisation--



I THINK, THEREFORE...

Firstly...

He wiped sweat from his cool, light cerulean eyes. It stung deeply even more after he wiped them. His contacts were dried out and made it difficult to see in the dark cave.

“Just hurry along, we have to get you back to the Sanctuary.” Even with blurred vision the bodies were easy to see. The closer they got to the cave opening the more dead there were. The ground became softer and unstable as they walked. It was hard to tell, but Dr. Uraton knew they were walking on bodies. Those who were not fast enough, those who had lost their balance. A true testament to humans and their worth.

'Tis the most consistent of 'transitions' so to speak. ^_^ And as you see, it's a melding of the concrete surroundings with Uraton's thought/reaction.


--

...rather worn out, and so I'll not go on much longer then. The setting was apt, and deft weave of weary resignation - breathlessness, lack of oxygen a neat way of cutting time short. And it built an immediate conflict. You hardly need the young men who seem half-way and hardly differentiated from each other. Or if you keep the dialogue and altercation, let it be directly shifted to Uraton's perspective, yes?

On the whole, I enjoyed it, Adam. Yet on character as foundation, and in the pacing (some structural and punctuation, lacking commas) you've left it threadbare. And it might easily be woven tight as knit wool. ^_^






IMP