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Wed Feb 24, 2010 5:31 am
Snoink says...

Note to mods: Capital letters are fully intended in this title. ^_^
Anyway, these are the first three chapters of FREAK. Besides any other comments you have, there is one huge thing I am looking for:
Where did you stop reading?
I purposely posted all three chapters in one long thread. It looks long and intimidating. If you read through it all, great. But if you didn't, tell me what line you gave up on. So if you could answer that, you would be really very helpful!
Also, if you've read FREAK previously, any sorts of comment comparing the two versions would be lovely.
Now, the story:

Chapter 1

She couldn’t get up at first. She could barely move. It took her two minutes before she tried to sit up and five until she finally did. And even then, the world lurched around her and the orange and gray sky devoured the rooftops, leaving behind blank buildings, which stared at her with glassy eyes. Behind her was the house, a peeling, two-story monster that she had lived in for all her life. And before her was the gate.
She had to get there.
She winced, picking out the gravel embedded in her arms and legs, and tried to stand up. That took longer. By the time she was standing, she was winded and her whole body ached. She stretched, gasping as her joints cracked, and took a tentative step forward. She almost fell. But she had to keep moving. She had to get to the gate. If she stayed, she would be sent away. But if she kept moving...
She gritted her teeth, grabbed her silver dog tag, and stumbled forward. A man had bought her yesterday. If she kept moving, she would have a home. All she had to do was walk to the gate.
And she wanted to cry. Her lungs burned, her heart shuddered, and every step twisted her knees so that tears sprang to her eyes. When she finally came to the gate, it was all she could do but keep herself from crying. Slowly, she leaned on the gate, pressing her face deep against the chain links. With one hand, she clung to the rusty gate and with the others she fingered her dog tag, tracing the word “FREAK” over and over again.
Her head snapped up.
It was a man’s voice, but she didn’t see him at first. The whitewashed apartments across the street stared down at her and trash fluttered down the street like an injured pigeon. And then she saw the car. It was a black sedan, a beautiful car that shimmered with tiny silver flecks. And embedded in the grill was the tiniest sparrow, its eyes closed and its wings folded at an odd angle.
A man stood next to the car. And his face shocked her. When he was younger, he might have been handsome, but now his jaw was drawn tight. He looked old. And yet, as old as he seemed, his face held no expression. He might as well have been wearing a mask. “So are you the freak?”
She curtseyed. “Please sir, are you my new master, sir?” Her voice was barely a squeak.
He glanced at her. “Maybe. How old are you?”
“Twenty, sir.”
“Twenty what?”
“Twenty years, sir.”
He scowled. “You’re lying. You look twelve.” When she said nothing, he said, “I was under the impression that I would purchase the oldest freak here. The freak that helped out with the children. She was twenty.”
She curtseyed. “I am that freak, sir.”
“Let me see your dog tags.”
She nodded and limped to him, biting her lip as her knees cracked and her body shook. But just as she came closer, he recoiled from her, his eyes wide.
“You smell like kerosene!”
Automatically, she shrank away. The man just stared. For a moment, it was quiet. Then, slowly, he ran his finger around her neck until he found the chain. He tugged the dog tag out. “You are twenty.”
“Yes, sir.”
A strange look crossed his face. “Come in.” He opened the car door and gestured to some rags. She curtseyed once more and crawled into the backseat of his car.
The man sat down next to her, signaled the driver, and leaned back. The car rumbled forward.
It was quiet.
After a couple of minutes of silence, she peeked outside again. Everything was purple and distorted through the tinted glass and the buildings all twisted into strange shapes. She stared at this with wonder before turning back to the gentleman. The man was watching her gravely, but as soon as she turned to him, he looked the other way.
Hours passed. The buildings turned into trees and the trees turned into grassy meadows that seemed to stretch on to eternity. Finally, just when she was sure that they would crash into the silver mountains up ahead, they turned onto a country road that went and stopped. At first, the freak couldn’t figure out why, but when she looked out at the front window, she gasped and shrunk into the seat.
Starring back at her was the biggest house she ever saw. Tall and white, it loomed in front of her, peering at her curiously with large glassy eyes. Vines crawled over its face and twisted around balconies. All around the house were fields as far as she could see of grass and flowers. And beyond that was the bluest sky she had ever seen.
“Well?” the man asked, as the driver left them and a sweet burst of wildflowers drifted past. “Are you ready to go inside?”
She glanced to the man, frightened. Carefully, she squirmed out of her seat, but her movements were too slow and everything hurt.
He sighed. “Here, let me help.” He bent down to pick her up. She whimpered and shrunk away at first, but he cradled her in his arms and took her to the door. Carefully, he set her down on her feet, holding her up until he knew she had the balance. She swallowed.
“Thank you, sir,” she murmured.
He opened the door. “Welcome home, Freak.”
It was beautiful. Soft chairs and sofas were turned toward each other, colorful yarn blankets tossed haphazardly across them. And all across the maple wall panels were pictures of bright antique airplanes, swirling in lovely blue skies.
She stumbled in, drunk from color, and stood still, curling her toes into the carpet. In the middle of the room, a big woman in her late fifties adjusted some pillows on the oversized chairs. The man coughed and stepped forward.
The woman wheeled around, frowning. “What do you want?” Then she saw the freak. She stepped back, her eyes wide. “What is that?”
The man pushed the freak forward. “Freak? This is Elsa, the head housekeeper. Elsa? This is the freak.”
“You got a freak?” Elsa looked sick.
The man turned to the freak. “Give me your dog tags.”
Instantly the freak’s hand shot up to her necklace. “Sir,” she began.
He sighed. “Let me rephrase that statement in a way that you will understand: give me your dog tags or else I will send you away.”
While the freak hurried to take off her necklace, Elsa stared. “She’s going to die. She won’t last a week.”
The man laughed. “She’ll be a perfect maidservant for Sarah then! Cheapest maidservant I’ve had in years. Clean her up now and I’ll increase your salary by ten-percent this month. I’ll even give you an additional ten-percent for every month that she survives.”
Elsa looked shocked. “And if she dies?”
“You mean when she dies.” He took out an envelope from his pocket and tore it open, taking out a shiny dog tag. He turned to the freak. “This dog tag signifies that I am your new master. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded and clipped on the dog tag, putting the chain back around her neck. He glanced at Elsa. “Well?”
Elsa scowled. “Fine. I’ll play your game. But I want twenty-percent.” She turned to the freak. “Come on, Freak, let’s go.”

Chapter 2

The freak wanted to see the rest of the house, but Elsa walked so quickly that all she could see were blurs of brown walls. Finally, just when the freak thought she would collapse, Elsa stopped and opened a door.
“You’re going in here.”
The freak gasped. The walls were covered in light green tiles and the floor was layered with such an assortment of mismatched towels that the colors were overwhelming. Elsa pushed the freak in, kicked away the towels, and turned on the bathwater. “Take off your clothes and get in. I’m going to shave your head.”
And it took hours. By the time Elsa was done with all the scrubbing and shaving and bandaging, her fingers felt like raisins. She rubbed her hands together while Elsa wrapped a fluffy pink towel around her shoulders.
“Now, to find clothes for you.” Elsa glanced at the freak and frowned. “Wait a minute, I’ll be back.”
When Elsa came back, she was carrying an armful of colorful clothes that was so tall that her head barely poked out of them. She dropped the clothes drop. “Here. Wear this,” she said, shoving a yellow lacey dress in the freak’s face.
The freak blushed. “It’s too pretty,” she said slowly. “If I am to be a maidservant...”
Elsa snorted. “Whoever said you would be her maidservant?”
“The master said—”
A strange look crossed Elsa’s face. She took out a moldy green hat, wiped it on her apron, and handed it to the freak. “Here, put this on. It’ll be over soon. In the meantime, you might as well look presentable. There! Better. Now follow me.”
Hallway after hallway, she scrambled after Elsa, crawling up the stairs and twisting through the house. When Elsa finally stopped at a door, the freak thought her lungs would burst.
“Good luck,” she said, shoving the freak in. She shut the door.
And purple was everywhere. The carpet, the curtains, the walls—even the large white couch in the center of the room was covered in purple quilts. The freak felt like she was drowning. Slowly, she backed away to the door.
“I suppose you’re my new maidservant.”
The freak started, looking around desperately. “Miss?” she began nervously when she saw a pretty girl with blonde hair rise up from the couch, a lavender quilt tossed over her shoulders. The freak blushed and curtseyed. “Good afternoon, Miss.”
The girl frowned. “My father hired you as my maidservant?”
“Yes, Miss.” The freak wished her voice were stronger. “I’m sorry,” she added, curtseying again.
The girl ignored her. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Miss—” The freak didn’t know what to say. Her eyes went back and forth and she began to tremble. “Miss—Miss Sarah, isn’t it? I am sorry, I don’t have—”
The girl scowled at her. “Just as well. Get out. You can tell my father that I do not need a servant, and, furthermore, if this is just another of his idiotic attempts at controlling me, then it hasn’t worked.”
The freak opened her mouth and shut it quickly. “Miss, Miss, please!”
“What’s this?” The girl sounded amused.
The freak looked upset. “Please Miss! Don’t worry, I’m not your servant. I’ll serve you, but that doesn’t mean—” the freak stopped talking, confused.
Sarah stood, brushing herself off. “So you are an idiot, are you not?”
“If it pleases you, my lady.”
“Very well then, come with me.” She walked briskly to the door and opened it, making a mock bow to the freak. The freak blushed and curtseyed, hesitating at the doorway. Sarah glared at her. “Aren’t you coming out?”
“I’m sorry, Miss.”
Sarah snorted.
The walls echoed with their footsteps as they walked. Sometimes, she heard voices from far off rooms. The freak twisted her head around when she thought Sarah wasn’t watching, trying to catch the ghosts of conversation and laughter she heard. But whenever the freak thought they were getting closer, the fainter the voices became until they just disappeared.
Finally Sarah shoved open a door.
Inside was the man the freak had met in the car, sitting at a desk with a large stack of papers beside him. If he knew they were in the room, he didn’t show it; he didn’t look up and occasionally he scribbled something in a deep red journal beside him. The freak blushed and curtseyed anyway.
Sarah stood and watched him.
“Let me guess,” he said finally, not looking up. “You are dissatisfied with my purchase and would like to return it immediately. Before I will even consider returning it, give me a reason. Why is it insufficient for your needs?”
Sarah blinked. “Insufficient! What are you talking about?” He looked up hopefully. This encouraged Sarah and she gave an important cough. “I am having problems with my new maidservant.”
He looked down and sighed. “I am very busy now, daughter. Why are you here?”
“You’re the one who keeps giving me these maidservants. Do you deny it?”
His short answer discouraged her. “Well, I don’t want one. Especially this one.”
“What has this one done to you?”
She snorted and drew herself higher. “She is an idiot—she has freely admitted it herself. She cannot talk, she cannot think, and besides that, she has a ghastly air about her.”
Sarah scowled. “That’s not the only reason that I want to send her off. You see—”
And the freak’s stomach dropped. She glanced at Sarah frantically, but Sarah seemed unfazed. She would not help her. The freak choked and turned to Sarah’s father, watching his face carefully.
Finally, he interrupted Sarah. “Are you sure you want to get rid of her?”
“Yes, quite sure.”
He sighed. “Then do as I say. In this desk on the right hand side in the third drawer to the bottom there is something you will need. Open this drawer.” He didn’t look up and Sarah paused strangely before going to the desk.
“There’s a couple of pens here and—” She stopped, her eyes wide.
“A gun, loaded with exactly one bullet. Be exceedingly careful when handling it—do not touch the trigger. Take it out.” Sarah looked surprised and a little fearful, but she took it out carefully nonetheless.
“Why is this here?”
Her father ignored her question. “Take the gun and point it at the freak.”
He looked annoyed. “The freak. Your maidservant, as you call her. Point it at the freak’s chest, straight at her heart, and shoot. Do not point it at the freak’s head as that method is too messy. It may kill instantly, but I don’t want the rugs to be stained with too much blood. The servants will complain; besides the rugs were expensive.”
Sarah looked horrified, but the freak didn’t care anymore. She stepped forward and looked at the man pleadingly. “You will not send me away then?”
He shook his head. “No. Sarah will shoot you. Step away from the carpet.”
The freak fingered the yellow fabric of her dress and nodded, her hands shaking. She thanked him and stepped off the carpet.
Sarah stared at the gun in her hands. For a minute, the only noise was her father sorting papers. Finally, she looked up, her face twisted strangely. “The bullets are blanks.”
“Do you think so?”
Sarah seemed wholly convinced now. “Yes. It doesn’t make sense for you to just hand me a gun that is fully loaded. If I wanted to, I could shoot you instead.”
“True.” He continued sorting papers. “I suppose you could shoot me if you wanted. But it’s not fully loaded. There’s only one bullet there at the moment—I took the other five out. If you killed me, you would not be able to kill the freak.”
“And what if I didn’t want to kill the freak?”
“Then I would think you a fool.”
Sarah bit her lip. She stepped and put the gun to her father’s head. He paused and turned to her, the gun still at his temple. Then he laughed. “Sadie, you are one of the most amazing women I have ever met.”
“The bullets are blanks.”
“If you say so.”
He watched her, interested as her face contorted into different emotions. His face was calm and even amused. Finally Sarah smiled and then, pointing the gun away from her father’s head and to a couch instead, she fired.
The sound was loud; the freak could hear her ears ringing and not much else. The couch had a new deep hole in it. Sarah’s father looked at it with a frown. “Pity, I liked that couch.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. With a cry, she dropped the gun and ran out. The freak looked at Sarah’s father pleadingly. He lifted his eyebrows. “Well? Follow her.” The freak nodded, curtseyed, and scrambled after Sarah.
Sarah’s father watched her leave before turning back to his work.

Chapter 3

By the time the freak had entered the room, Sarah was already there, sitting on the floor. The freak was exhausted, but she stood up politely and watched Sarah.
“Your father told me to come here,” the freak said after she caught her breath.
“Did he?” Sarah didn’t look up, nor did she sound particularly interested.
The freak waited.
Finally, Sarah stood up and looked at the freak strangely. “Did he say anything else?” The freak shook her head. Sarah turned and stared out of the window.
“I’m sorry about what I said back there. I didn’t realize who you were.” Sarah waited for a response, but the freak was quiet. She turned to the freak. “He’s tried to do that for a while now, give me a maidservant that is. I never like them at all.”
The freak curtseyed politely. “I’m sorry, Miss.”
“Of course, I never thought that he would give me someone like you,” she continued nervously. “From the way he talked, I hardly believed he would—” She broke off and rubbed her shoe on the carpet. “So you’re a freak,” she said. “That’s why you couldn’t give me your name. You don’t have one.”
The freak curtseyed again. “Yes, Miss Sarah.”
Sarah flinched. “Stop doing that. Stop curtseying. I don’t like it. And don’t be so polite. I don’t like that either. My name’s not Miss. It’s Sarah.”
The freak nodded. “It’s a pretty name.”
Sarah snorted. “It’s a stuffy one. I can’t stand it. I wish my name were something else.”
“Your father called you Sadie.”
“My father!” She stood up angrily and twisted her hands. “Of course he would call me that! He wants to ruin it. He’s ruined everything else. I hate him!” She turned to the freak viciously. “And don’t you try to defend him. You saw what he did! And you could have died! But did he care? No. He just wanted to prove a point. He always has to prove a point. Sit down, you’re making me nervous.”
The freak sat.
“Now what do I call you?” When the freak started, she scowled. “I’m not calling you Freak.”
The freak paled. “You don’t have to call me anything then.”
Sarah ignored her. “Do you want a name?”
“That’s illegal.”
“But do you want one?” When the freak hesitated, Sarah laughed. “Don’t worry, you can trust me. How about Bethany? That’s a nice name. You can call me Sadie and I can call you Bethany, or Beth for short. It’ll be our little secret. What do you think?”
The freak shuddered but didn’t protest against it.
Sarah clapped her hands. “Very well! How are you doing, Beth?”
The freak felt helpless. “Oh, Miss!” she said. “It’s a very pretty name, but I’m a freak!”
Sarah snorted. “So what have you been genetically modified to do? Can you swim underwater without breathing? Light yourself on fire without burning? Fly?”
The freak looked around the room nervously. “I can crochet.”
“So can I. Am I a freak?”
The freak looked confused and opened her mouth to speak, her fingers brushing against her dog tags. They made a sweet tinkling sound.
Sarah frowned and sat back onto the couch, drawing several quilts around her. “Just because you’re in a bad situation doesn’t make you a freak. Otherwise, everybody would be one. I would be one! This year is the year I will marry a man that I have been betrothed to since I was five. His name is Claude. He’s fifty-five years old, fat, and balding. But I’m not a freak!”
“Is he good?” the freak asked. “The man?”
“Good? I don’t know. I’ve never met him.”
The freak opened her mouth, confused, but before she could speak, Sarah quickly said, “I know, it sounds like I’m being judgmental, but it’s not that! It’s not just his looks! It’s the circumstances around the whole matter—they seem fishy. When my father made the arrangement, my mother wasn’t consulted and she didn’t learn about it until everything legal had been signed. It doesn’t make sense.”
The freak bit her lip. “Your father?”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know. He says he did it because the marriage would be advantageous to both sides, but he also says other things that make me suspect otherwise. So that means he’s lying, but I can’t figure out how.”
“What does he want?” the freak asked.
Sarah frowned. “Power. Apparently, my fiancé is high up in the power circle. If my father can please him with me, he’ll have more power. And then my father can always exercise his power with me.” Her voice trailed off.
“He’s like that,” she said finally. “That’s why he probably got you. My mother and I fight back when he tries to control us. But a freak? They don’t fight. It’s illegal. He knew that he wouldn’t get in trouble if he shot you.”
“But he didn’t,” the freak pointed out.
“And if I had?” Sadie shivered, pulling the blankets to her chin. “Stay away from my father. The farther we keep you apart, the safer you’ll be. Understand?”
The freak hesitated. But before she could say anything, Elsa came in the room, carrying a bowl of porridge. The freak jumped up and curtseyed. Elsa ignored her.
“Dinner is ready, Miss Sarah,” she said, shifting the bowl in her hands. “Your father is waiting.”
“Tell him I’m not hungry.” Then, as an afterthought, she said, “Give the freak her dinner. She is my new maidservant.” Sarah turned and walked into her.
The freak heard a click of a lock.
Elsa sighed. “Dreadful child,” she murmured, setting the bowl down in front of the freak. “Always dramatic. Never knows when to quit. Just like her mother.”
The freak stared at her food. “Will I be sent away?”
Elsa flinched at these words. “No. Never.” Elsa stood up and rubbed her hair. Then, in a kinder voice, she added, “Don’t bother yourself about Sarah. She’s not worth it.”
The freak frowned and nodded before sitting down. She began to eat.
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D

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Wed Feb 24, 2010 12:29 pm
MiaParamore says...

I read till ' Sandpaper stay still.........". i left in the middle because I want a rating so I could read it. I foyu could do that I am ready to read it.Till whatever I read, I liked it.
"Next time you point a finger
I might have to bend it back
Or break it, break it off
Next time you point a finger
I'll point you to the mirror"

— Paramore

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Wed Feb 24, 2010 12:32 pm
high maria says...

A great science-fiction I suppose. Though I amn't keen on fantasy, I read it with pleasure. Feels like it's not your first writing experience and You certainly have a flair for this genre. Unfortunetly, I haven;t read this story before, so thanks for uploading 3 chapters. Looking forward to reading more and more chapters about Freak!
Yours Maria

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Wed Feb 24, 2010 1:26 pm
Elinor Brynn says...

xD Snoink, I didn't think you were serious when you said this would be the title. Anyway, watch this space for a critique.


All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them.

-- Walt Disney

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Wed Feb 24, 2010 2:18 pm
Lava says...


I haven't read Freak before but this is good. Would love to get your book when it's published.

I notice a typo in the second chapter; where you had typed 'starring' for 'staring.'
I'm super intrigued by the father's character. I want to find out what he delivers. And for some reason, I just can't picture the freak.

Lava :)
Pretending in words was too tentative, too vulnerable, too embarrassing to let anyone know.
- Ian McEwan in Atonement

sachi: influencing others since GOD KNOWS WHEN.

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 12:00 am
GryphonFledgling says...

Snoink wrote:Where did you stop reading?

At the (lack of) title.

Spoiler! :
No, I'll be back to review proper. Just don't have the time at the moment. I was just going to slam some newbie for not giving their story the proper title it deserves, then I realized it was you.

I'll be back. *Terminators away*

EDIT: ZOMG, I couldn't stop reading! This seriously just sucked me in and wouldn't let go.

There's some stuff I'm confused about, but I think it's more that you just haven't gotten to the explanation yet, rather than that you left it unclear.

More please?

One small nitpick:
Once more, she stepped to the mirror. She smiled and watched her fingers dance along her reflected face.

Is she watching her fingers in front of the mirror, or is she looking at the reflection of her fingers in the mirror? Just a paragraph before, you were talking about how the mirror blurred everything and she had to squint to even make herself out as a blob of color, so I don't see how she could see something like her fingers in the mirror. The movement perhaps? This was a little strange.

All in all, however, this was simply beautiful. The way you just handled it so matter-of-factedly, without angst or horror or anything somehow punctuated the intensity of the situation still more. Major props to you, my friend.

moar plz? kthxbai!

I am reminded of the babe by you.

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 12:52 am
Elinor Brynn says...

Wow, Karina.

I read the whole thing-it was amazing. Seriously, please try to find a publisher for this. I could see potential of it doing very, very well. I remember reading the very first draft of this, and my, has the quality of your writing improved since then. This has got all the qualities of a classic sci-fi thriller; it's deep, provocative, and the characters were all around likeable. Sarah and her father may fit archetypes, but you added your own twist on them and that's cool. That's really all I have to say for now-please post the next couple of chapters!


All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them.

-- Walt Disney

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 7:01 am
Snoink says...

shubhiloves2write wrote:I read till ' Sandpaper stay still.........". i left in the middle because I want a rating so I could read it. I foyu could do that I am ready to read it.Till whatever I read, I liked it.

I think I rated this part 12+. It's rated that because there are guns in it. The entire novel would probably be rated 16+.

Maria>> Thanks for the compliments! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :) It's more of an urban fantasy rather than a sci fi, actually, since there's only a bit of science involved, and even that is fleeting. :) Still, thank you so much for the comment!

Lava>> Couldn't picture the freak? In what way? Also, thanks for spotting the typo! I corrected it on the manuscript... maybe one day I'll correct it in this version as well. :)

Gryphon and Eli>> Teehee! Yay for amusement! I guess I'll change the title. :)

Gryphon>> Yeah... now that I look at that, the line you pointed out seems a bit off. It worked better in the previous draft. I'll play with it and make it work--or else.

Eli>> First draft was written when I was 13! Fascinating idea... bad writing. It's taken a looooong time to get to this point... but what a ride! ;)

Thanks for all your comments! :D
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 1:41 pm
Lava says...

Well, the mirror scene just forms a haze of her/it in my head. And it's stuck like that. Sorry.
Amyhoopity, I loves this!
I agree with Elli; do find a publisher for this.
Pretending in words was too tentative, too vulnerable, too embarrassing to let anyone know.
- Ian McEwan in Atonement

sachi: influencing others since GOD KNOWS WHEN.

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 3:51 pm
Snoink says...

Hehehe, in a way, the artist in me kind of likes that. It's like that line from "The Year of the Cat" which goes: "She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running/Like a watercolor in the rain." Except without the silk dress, obviously.

Would you like having a firm picture of what the freak looks like for the beginning, and, if so, what sorts of descriptions of the body are you looking for?
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 3:53 pm
Elinor Brynn says...

Can you post the next couple of chapters?

All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them.

-- Walt Disney

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 3:54 pm
lilymoore says...

But this was really great Rina!!!
I read the original beginning some time ago but from what I remember, Sarah never shot the couch…unless I’m forgetting. *shrugs*
The only thing that I dislike is how short it is. I want more. Not just more story but more in the chapters too. They’re really short but that’s just me.

I spotted one other little error in the second paragraph of chapter two.

Beyond the fence there was a row rundown apartments.

I’m just so so so so glad you posted this! FREAK will live!
Never forget who you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 4:32 pm
Karsten says...

I read all the way to the end, and with great enjoyment. :) Nice work.

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 5:23 pm
Snoink says...

Eli>> I just rewrote a large chunk of Chapter 4 last night at an awfully late time and I would like to sit on it for a while before posting what is probably awful writing. So no FREAK for a while.

Lily>> You win at life. Seriously, I saw the typo, forgot to write down where it was, and when I looked back for it, I could not for the life of me find it. So thank you so much! I fixed it in the manuscript. Maybe soon I'll fix it here? :)

And yeah... the chapters are short, and shorter still now that I've revised them. The whole section that you've read up here is less than 5000 words, and that's three chapters! There are 63 chapters in all. It's rather ridiculous! Some are long of course... the ones in the climax are designed to be longer, otherwise I found that they would feel too short (since chapters at the end are the ones I rush through the most so I can get to the end faster--I'm crazy, I know) but many of them are really short---one's less than 500 words long. Each chapter is episodic though, so I don't know if I can combine them easily.

And Sadie's always shot the couch. Poor couch. XD

Karsten>> Thanks! Easiest critique you had to do, right? ;)
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D

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Thu Feb 25, 2010 5:29 pm
Karsten says...

Snoink wrote:Karsten>> Thanks! Easiest critique you had to do, right? ;)

:D I love giving unconditional praise. My critique partner gets that so rarely that it freaks her out. Don't freak out - no pun intended. :P