Young Writers Society

Part I

It was the jazz that soothed her, that kept her from tearing her eyes from her head. It was the tinny sigh of the ride cymbal, the loose beat of the snare, the sweet tune of the piano. It was the harmonious dance of the sax and the muted call of the cornet. It was the three glasses of wine she had had with dinner.

The night ride home was nothing new for Marie, certainly not when it included her and her husband sitting side to side in that nervous silence that often accompanied two people who had grown far apart. Though, after years, it did seem easier to long for the calm that resulted from such a falling out.

The flurry of white picked up outside the car, a shower of thick, illuminated chaff that flew up and over the windshield and disappeared into the night. A gust of wind blew the driverless car off its path, but the guidance system detected the error and quickly set the car back on track.

“Presence of high winds detected,” the robotic female voice called out to its passengers.

Marie looked out the window. Even with all of man’s technological savvy, these machines never truly sound real.

The car’s radio began to sputter in and out and the static changed Marie’s mood with haste. She turned the dial. The empty sound of wind and her husband’s breathing set her thoughts elsewhere.

She had always loved classical music, its masters Coltrane, Brubeck, and the others. Her husband, David, had never shared that love. Instead, he listened to that new music the kids listened to. What was it called again? Drowned? No… drone, that was it. And how that rubbish did drone on.

It was some crisis of his, no doubt; trying to act younger, trying to impress anyone who might be listening. The only problem was that nobody was. Nobody listened while he exercised in his private gym, or while he was on his way to the office, or even while he snuck downstairs for his midnight linkups, downloading images of women much younger than her and much less clothed. Oh yes, she knew about those nightly visits to the computer, yet she ignored them. Their love life could hardly be called amiable, much less existent.

“Sensors indicate freezing rain and ice patches. Speed slowed by twenty kilometers per hour.”

Her husband sighed and placed his hands behind his head.

“You may need to use the steering wheel for a change,” Marie said.

“Stupid weather,” he grumbled. “How much slower are we even going? I’ll never figure out this damn metric system. Why’d they have to go and change it anyway? What ain’t broken, shouldn’t be fixed.”

She gave him a reserved smile. How terribly clichéd of you.

Several small aches made their way to Marie’s head. She thought it best to switch her view from her husband to the sky and the trees. The snow blocked much of the beauty, making it difficult to see much farther than the car’s side mirror. Her head fell to her shoulder and her eyes became heavy. She slowly drifted to a dreamy world where life had simplicity.

Marie’s head jerked to the left as the car spun out of control. She felt the icy patches beneath, and the tires losing traction. They were spinning, endlessly spinning. Marie dug her fingernails into the console.

The car’s automated system could do nothing but heedlessly try and gain control on the tractionless road. The brakes were called into action, but they did more harm than good. The car flipped, the passengers knocked to the roof of the car even with their seatbelts securely fitted. The whirling mass of steel came to a stop as it careened into the trunk of a giant oak. Marie was barely conscious.

The winter’s chill filled the car and touched Marie and her husband. Somehow the radio had come back on and was spewing out static. The car corrected this smallest of problems and suddenly Marie was listening to her jazz. She saw the shadows of a creature on its haunches come up to the shattered windshield and sniff at the contents inside. The sounds of big band played as she fell into more worlds of simplicity.

This story confused me a bit.

First of all the story started a bit to slow for me. And did not really catch my attention. You droned on a bit more on the music that is really needed in my opinion.

Also I liked the detail you put into the environment around them. But you gave us more information about the husband that was really needed if then both get eaten.

Anyway I hope to read more of this, maybe flush it out a bit more.

-Phantom

I'm afraid I shall have to disagree with Soul, here, I found the beginning wonderful. Just the right length, too - the lyrical description of the music and then the evening. It was one of those openings that, upon reading, the person cannot help but think "This will be good. This is a good writer here - he knows what he's doing." I find it exemplary. ^_^

And the rest of the piece follows up on the great writing. You really do have a natural talent, here, I think. I love Marie's persona - her subtly expressed opinion of her husband, of the music... small things, which compound to make a well-rounded world.

I am in love with your writing. You have phenomenal talent, Trident, and great promise - I'm really looking forward to more of this.


(Critted for the CCF)

I think it's really good. I love the beginning. For a moment, however, I could have sworn you were writing something besides Science-Fic. It's wonderful. I really don't see anything that needs to be changed. The ending was suspenseful, but a little confusing. I like it. Write more! Love Writergirl

Thanks everyone. I should have part two up soon if I can ever get myself off the Internet and actually start writing!

And DD, your post left me... well, speechless. Thank you.

Never a problem, Trident, being honest. ^_~

Sorry I didn't mention this before, but I thought of it after I logged off:

Trident wrote: “You may need to get the steering wheel out and drive manually,” Marie said.

The dialogue here seems awkward and it makes the reader pause - not what, necessarily, Marie's saying, but how she's saying it. "You may need to get the steering wheel out..." It makes it sound like something you keep in the pocket on the door and on occaision you screw it back onto the car to drive. ^_~

Perhaps a simpler "You may been to use the steering wheel and drive manually" would work better?

Just a suggestion though. Fine job, all around. ^_^

Part II



Marie awoke to the sound of burning logs and the smell of sweat. She was laying on an old couch with a fireplace in front of her, its heat on her face. Her whole body felt flushed. She touched her bottom lip and winced; the gash wasn’t very big, but it was enough to give her pain. Several other injuries made their way to the forefront of her mind.

She looked at the blanket that covered her. Wool.

A large husky sat down in front of the small couch and began sniffing her hand. She pulled away from the dog’s wet nose and sat up, the blanket held close to her chest.

“She doesn’t bite,” a raspy voice came from behind her. “We don’t get strangers around these parts often anymore.”

Marie turned to see a man dressed in a simple brown overcoat, rough and also made of wool. His face looked as though it had never been cleaned or shaven in his lifetime. His beard was brown with spots of gray and white, obviously an indication that he was aging. “Where am I? Where’s my husband?”

The man pointed to a room down a small corridor. “He’s in there if you’d like to see him, but my guess is that you’re not quite ready to get up yet.”

Marie scoffed and tried to stand, but her head was still spinning from the accident and she fell back down on the couch.

She put a hand to the side of her face to steady her blurred vision. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“I’ve got a pitcher of well water here--”

“Anything alcoholic.”

The hermit laughed. “I believe I do.” He grabbed a glass bottle filled with a brown liquid and poured it into a mug. After handing it to Marie, he sat down in a chair next to her.

Marie inspected the dusty mug and looked up. “Are you kidding me?”

“Would you rather have the water?”

Marie shook her head and drank. She needed some alcohol in her.

A clock in the corner ticked, making her head hurt and her nerves on edge.

“So you saved us from the crash and brought us here then? Where is this exactly?”

“We’re in a cabin several miles south of the county road.”

“Kilometers, you mean.”

“What?”

“Kilometers; you know, the metric unit. It was instituted a few years ago. Well, now everybody has to use ‘kilometers’ instead of miles, ‘meters’ instead of feet, ‘liters’ instead of…” Marie saw the confused look on his face. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“So how long have you been shacked up in this cabin?”

“I’ve lived here all my life. My family has owned this place for several generations, surely, longer than I can remember.”

It made sense, she saw. The woolen blanket and overcoat, the real wood used to construct the house, the well water; really the lack of any modern technology.

“If you don’t mind my asking… well, I’ve never heard an uneducated person speak so well.”

“My lady, you presume too little of me. I never said I wasn’t educated, just that I had lived in this cabin all my life. I did go to university.”

“Oh. Where did you study?”

“Yale. Class of ‘79.”

“Yale. 2079?”

“Yes.”

“But that was only twenty-two years ago. You look…”

“Old? Yes, well I’ve never been one for youth treatment.”

Marie cocked her head to the side. “You don’t have a health plan.”

“Health plan,” he scoffed. “That junk they inject into you is
hardly healthy.”

“It’s perfectly healthy. I should be sixty-seven, but I look and feel not a day older than thirty.” Marie did her best to smile dazzlingly.

“Save for those injuries. They must have you feeling your true age.”

The insult stung. Marie decided the intricacies of youth treatment was not something this old man wanted to hear about.

“I never learned your name.”

“The name’s Evan.”

“Hello Evan. I’m Marie.”

“I believe we’re already past the superfluous introductions if you don’t mind.”

“Indeed,” Marie said while she sipped from the mug. The clock went on ticking. “My husband and I should get to a hospital to get checked out. I believe I can stand now.” Marie stood, but it was obvious she was having trouble staying up. The wool blanket fell off her and on to the husky. The dog shook it off and tramped off into the small kitchen to chew on a bone.

“May I use your phone?” Marie asked.

“I don’t have a phone,” Evan answered.

“You don’t have a phone.” She had never encountered a
household that did not have a telephone line.

“No. I never found much use for them.”

“Well, did you grab our cellulars from the car?”

His eyebrows wrinkled . “I’m sorry, it wasn’t a priority when I found you.”

“Not a priority! How are we supposed to get out of here? We can barely walk, let alone hike a few miles.”

“I walked the route twice, carrying you and your husband one at a time.” He stood, called his dog to his side, and went to the door. “If I was you, ma’am, I’d settle down and try to get some rest. You’re free to stay here until the likes of you two are ready to go. If you need anything, I’ll be in my workshop.” Evan let the door slam, leaving Marie with nothing but the sound of burning logs and the smell of sweat.

It's good...I like it, however, in the first chapter I got the impression that they were in an airplane...maybe I was just being unobservant...

Good job, Trident, on this one as well. I got a good sense of this place and of your hermit. But there is one thing you might want to look at it...

Say you are in a bad accident. You lose conciousness, only to recover it in a place foreign to you, to realize you're in the home of a man you've never met in your life. You'd be more than a little alarmed at first, I would imagine.

That is the one thing about this piece that seems wrong, here - Marie is so coolly execpting of her situation that it makes it seem a bit unrealistic, and slightly detracts from an otherwise wonderfully written part. ^_^

The beginning - I neither liked nor disliked to be honest. However "had had" is awkward. Perhaps, "drank with dinner" ?

However, you do seem to blab on about the music, I can see its use as a structure in Part 1 well but perhaps it is over used.

By the end of part one I am interested in continuing the story, not hooked, but mildly intrigued.

Ok, Part 2 - now this is interesting. Your society is really intrigueing and I'm desperate to learn why the man is so against technology (Im guessing totalitarianism of the government?)

Your characters are maturing now, my favourite is Evan but I also like the shallowness of Marie.

Keep going with this, Ill be reading more.

In all of their conversation, Marie had forgotten about her husband. He was easily enough forgotten, but if she were to get out of this house, she would need him to do it; he had grown up in this area after all. It was important they get back to their car and get those cellulars.

She walked down the small corridor on the other side of the kitchen. There were two doors to the left and one to the right. Evan had pointed to the one on the right. She thought that perhaps if she opened one of the other doors, she might find some sort of woods creature there to devour her. It wasn’t unreasonable considering where she was and the charms of their gracious host. He is an odd one.

The door opened with a creak, and she found David sprawled on a small mattress. He was asleep, but he would not stay that way for long. Marie shook and rolled her husband but it did no good. The man wouldn’t wake.

Bruises littered his body, and she saw he was missing a few of his teeth. She cupped his face with her hand and sighed. The sheets were blood-soaked, ruined for all good purpose. Marie thought to compensate Evan for them, but the hermit didn’t likely have a need for money.

David moaned, his eyes two slits. Here was her chance.

“David. David, honey. We need to get out of here. Can you walk?”

“There’s the ice cream stand. Where’s my dollar? I can’t find my dollar!”

“David, what? What ice cream stand?”

“The ice cream stand. Where’s my dollar?”

Wonderful. The two of them would obviously be here for a while. Marie cursed her luck. Why did life have to be so complicated? Couldn’t she just go to dinner and then get back home without all of this?

The eerie creaking of a door in the corridor made her turn. A blonde girl of no more than ten stood in the doorway looking at her inquisitively. Marie was taken aback.

“Oh, well hello there. What’s your name, sweetie?”

The girl off and ran down the hall. Marie stumbled off the bed to follow her, her hip burning each time her leg pounded into the ground. The tiny blonde head scurried out the door into the darkness.

Marie waddled to the aged door, the chilling wind biting as it came pouring into the house. She could feel the cold eating at her skin, pressing in on her ravenous. It was not the first time she had felt such cold that night, and neither did she believe it to be the last time. The chill fought with the warmth of the fire creating a torrent that took her breath from her.

She took a step into the wet snow, her feet sinking up to the ankle. It was the first time she had stepped in such a deepness, and it held her hostage until she found the strength to move forward.

The girl’s small footsteps were easily enough traceable; the snow was not filling in that quickly. Marie looked down carefully at the tiny impressions. She could see toes. My god, she thought, the girl isn’t wearing any shoes.

The trail led her to Evan’s workshop. A rather fragile-looking thing it appeared, not something one would normally call a workshop, although how many of those had she actually seen in her lifetime?

Marie trudged forward to the workshop’s peeling door , determined to see the child was all right. When she opened the creaking mass, Evan appeared with the girl, holding her in his arms. The girl’s tears were frozen on her cheeks.

“You poor thing!” Marie said as she came to the girl’s side. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She was just frightened.” Evan swept the hair back from his daughter’s face and wiped a tear away with his large dirty thumb. “Maya’s the only thing I have left here besides my work.”

“Oh.” Marie tried to sympathize with the stranger, but it was an unusual feeling. “I’m sorry. Is her mother… dead?”

“Might as well be for all the good she is.”

“May I ask what happened-- never mind, it is unimportant.” She hesitated as if in thought. “David will be out of it for a while. I need those cellulars. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of where you found our car. We really should get to a hospital.”

“If you plan to go back, I should go with you. Winter nights such as these are made to kill pretty ladies like yourself.”

“No, it’s not necessary. You carried us all the way back here--”

“Which is why I should go. I know the way well after two trips.”

Evan grabbed two large wool coats from the main house and gave one to Marie. Maya had gone back to her room to wait until they returned. Marie followed Evan into the trees, sure the snow would devour her whole.