Young Writers Society

Three days had passed, slowly, but they had passed. Exhaustion had begun to set in, worming it's way under my skin. I sheltered myself in an old, blown out drainage outlet. It harbored no feeling of embrace from it's miserable concrete walls, but it would be the closest thing to home I would feel for some time.
German shepherds barked off in the distance making me jump in my tattered clothes. The bodies of the fallen surrounded me with eyes frosted open, fixated on me. Steam still rolled off the pile, like startled wraiths vanishing into the night. Guilt laid on their sorrowful eyes, not from the sins of being soldiers, but the creation of dying in shame.
Another hound barked, chasing ghosts back into the shadows. I was certain I would not make it from the hellish ditch, getting shot in the back trying to climb my way out. I could see myself frozen like the rest, immortalized in my last dire moments. I shook the thoughts and focused my mind on staying warm, the night air was just as cold and merciless as my pursuers.
I climbed from my hole in the wall and descended, slipping once on a loose arm. A chill traveled down my limbs, goosing up my skin and creating a static numbness on my fingertips. A light snow had begun to fall, reminding me that it was the wrong time to be squeamish. When I had finally made it to the bottom of the ravine I immediately went amongst the dead. Winter had locked in the stench of this war crime but had done nothing for how foul the air had felt. A heavy sense of urgency had laid about me as I meticulously began to strip the mass grave of anything warm.
I feared finding another living soul in the heap. I could not bare being clutched at from the grave, I had no thoughts on how to help a dying man. Each body I turned over made the idea less realistic as I relieved the dead platoon of their field coats. Every article warmth brought with it a small struggle, wrenching frozen arms to impossible angles.
A thick branch snapped at the head of the ravine just out of sight. My heart leapt in such a way that I could not breathe. I donned one of the jackets, my shaky hands seemed to take eternities, and I fell amongst the fallen. Heavy foot steps crunched in the snow somewhere at the edge of the barren, winter woods. In my last few moments before I thought to be shot to death, I pulled the closest bodies over me in hopes that the dead would help to defend me. Instead of gunfire, a melancholy wail filled my ears. It was a cascade of moans coming from the edge of the forest, and with it a familiarity. The slow mournful note was like a whale song drifting through the hull of a ship. Not the same, but I had heard it before.
I watched from my dreadful cover as the horror came down the hill, slender and pale. Terrified, I couldn't look away as it moved towards the corpse pile with such grace, as if it were dancing. It was a hairless visage of a man with an empty face. It made up for that with a wide fixed grin filled with jagged teeth. No more than a few meters away, a thick odor of rot washed off the horrifying thing's immaculate skin, filling the ravine.
It passed through the ditch, stopping to touch and graze the bodies with long, boney claws before lurching onward. It's touch lingered on one body, a body very close to mine, before it let out another long, mournful cry. My mind filled with decades of despair but I could do nothing to cover my ears.
It began to dig into the man, slinging gore into the fresh snow. I spent what felt like hours watching and listening as bone, organ, and skin was sadistically pulled way. The thing ripped out what looked like the man liver, handling it gently, feeling it as if for defects.
It's grin grew bigger as it caressed it's new treasure. The thing moved on, its jolty, shaky movement seemed almost choreographed. It reached the edge of the drain pipe, and silently pulled itself into the darkness. Once it was far from earshot, I took off through the woods, my captors now the furthest thing in my mind.

Hi C *waves*

The bodies of fallen surrounded me with eyes frosted open, fixated on me.

The bodies of fallen what, I think a word is missing here.

Steam still rolled off the pile, like startled wraiths vanishing into the night. Guilt laid on their sorrowful eyes, not from the sins of being soldiers, but the creation of dying in shame.

What? I don't get this line at all. Are you on a battle field? I have no clue whats going on. But good description.


I liked some of it. The description was okay but the story was all over the place i think. In the beginning you were talking about concrete walls and one sentence later you were on what seemed to be a battle ground. That really confused me. I liked your characters voice. But I felt as if you were repeating yourself about getting shot. I believe that you could have created more imaginative deaths.

The ending was gripping and I suddenly felt like reading more and finding out what the monster was.

Keep Writing

Anger

This piece was good- but I think it could be improved. There is obviously a lot of description, and good description: however, I think that it kind of draws away from the piece. Description should also add to the story, and when it just describes some things without furthering the plot, and takes up half of your words, it becomes more a distraction than anything else. I would also suggest trying to be concise, as it is very wordy in some parts, though understandable.

There were also a great deal of longer sentences. I tend to write like this myself, but try to watch it, as the sentence length can become too repetitive. Short, quick, blunt sentences are not the enemy. I promise.
The last thing I came across were comma splices, which are overlooked by some, but personally, very distracting for me as a reader. Maybe I'm the only one who will notice.

Well, that's it. Good pace, interesting story, seems like you have a good plot and an excellent mind to use it. Great job.

Coral

Hello, Sheperd! I'll be reviewing this for you, okay? Well, let's get started. Corrections will be in red and comments and suggestions will be in purple.

Three days had passed, slowly, but they had passed. Exhaustion had begun to set in, worming it's way under my skin. I sheltered myself in an old, blown out drainage outlet. It harbored no feeling of embrace from it's miserable concrete walls, but it would be the closest thing to home I would feel for some time.
German shepherds barked off in the distance, making me jump in my tattered clothes. The bodies of [the] fallen [insert noun] surrounded me with eyes frosted open, fixated on me. You need to put in one of the two options I gave you for this sentence. The bodies of fallen, by itself, makes no sense. Steam still rolled off the pile, like startled wraiths vanishing into the night. Guilt laid on their sorrowful eyes, not from the sins of being soldiers, but the creation of dying in shame.
Another hound barked, chasing ghosts back into the shadows. I was certain I would not make it from the hellish ditch, getting shot in the back trying to climb my way out. I could see myself frozen like the rest, immortalized in my last dire moments. I shook the thoughts and focused my mind on staying warm, the night air was just as cold and merciless as my pursuers.
I climbed from my hole in the wall and descended, slipping once on a loose arm. A chill traveled down my limbs, goosing up my skin and creating a static numbness on my fingertips. A light snow had begun to fall, reminding me that it was the wrong time to be squeamish. When I had finally made it to the bottom of the ravine, I immediately went amongst the dead. Winter had locked in the stench of this war crime, but had done nothing for how foul the air had felt. A heavy sense of urgency had laid about me as I meticulously began to strip the mass grave of anything warm.
I feared finding another living soul in the heap. I could not bare being clutched at from the grave, I had no thoughts on how to help a dying man. Each body I turned over made the idea less realistic as I relieved the dead platoon of their field coats. Every article warmth brought with it a small struggle, wrenching frozen arms to impossible angles.
A thick branch snapped at the head of the ravine, just out of sight. My heart leapt in such a way that I could not breathe. I donned one of the jackets, my shaky hands seemed to take eternities, and I fell amongst the fallen. Heavy foot steps crunched in the snow somewhere at the edge of the barren, Take out this comma, it is not needed here. winter woods. In my last few moments before I thought to be shot to death, I pulled the closest bodies over me in hopes that the dead would help to defend me. Instead of gunfire, a melancholy wail filled my ears. It was a cascade of moans coming from the edge of the forest, and with it a familiarity. The slow mournful note was like a whale song drifting through the hull of a ship. Not the same, but I had heard it before.
I watched from my dreadful cover as the horror came down the hill, slender and pale. Terrified, I couldn't look away as it moved towards the corpse pile with such grace, as if it were dancing. It was a hairless visage of a man with an empty face. It made up for that with a wide fixed grin filled with jagged teeth. No more than a few meters away, a thick odor of rot washed off the horrifying thing's immaculate skin, filling the ravine.
It passed through the ditch, stopping to touch and graze the bodies with long, boney claws before lurching onward. It's touch lingered on one body, a body very close to mine, before it let out another long, mournful cry. My mind filled with decades of despair but I could do nothing to cover my ears. From here on is where things start to get confusing. What is the thing that's going through the dead and picking out organs? Why is it there? Why is it petting a liver? You need to clarify on that, which I hope you will.
It began to dig into the man, slinging gore into the fresh snow. I spent what felt like hours watching and listening as bone, organ, and skin was sadistically pulled way. The thing ripped out what looked like the man liver, handling it gently, feeling it as if for defects.
It's grin grew bigger as it caressed it's new treasure. The thing moved on, its jolty, shaky movement seemed almost choreographed. It reached the edge of the drain pipe, and silently pulled itself into the darkness. Once it was far from earshot, I took off through the woods, my captors now the furthest thing in my mind.

Things are a little bit confusing at the moment. You had really nice description, but sometimes it becomes too much and I can hardly understand the story. I still don't understand what exactly happened with the man at the end. You really need to explain that further. Well, that's all.

Loveless~

Okay, I am going to try to make this as awesome as possible, but bare with me.

First off let me say that I am not one of those people that is going to go and read through this, trying to find all of those pesky typos and point them out. Quite frankly, I don't give a crap! Okay, to some point it is annoying, but for a reviews sake, this isn't English class. So, instead I am going to break your story into three categories and summaries and grade you individually on each one. First off: Characters!

Characters:

Aight, there is only one character so far, unless you count that creepy organ harvester ghost thing. The character is pretty, well, undeveloped, but since this is just a fun kinda short story thing so far, no bid deal there. Something that would make this a lot more interesting, is opening the door into the characters mind. Something I have discovered is that first person never reaches its peak of epicness until you really open your character up. I don't know if you plan on continuing this at all, but if you tell what the character is thinking, it would add more mystery and thrill to the story. Alright, next: Plot

Plot:

The plot is really kinda creepy. This creature that your character sees gave me the chills, well, made me think about getting the chills at least. What I did notice, which might pertain more to your character than plot, is that your character is like emotionless. Yes, you say various times that he or scared, but your character is like taking clothes of dead bodies, moving the bodies to use as cover and such. I don't know about you, but I would not touch the bodies! This guy better some hardened warrior or something or else this is really unrealistic. But, I have to say that I really liked the creepiness factor. Good job. Finally: Writing Style

Writing Style:

Your descriptions were great, first off. But, as I have posted stuff on here, I have learned that there is a lot more to a story than the senses. When a writer describes too much the scenario, it gets really boring because it becomes more like a painting, than than a actual moving scene. Beware. it wasn't too bad in that aspect, but it crossed the line in some places. Again, I realized that descriptions are essential, but they do not make a story. So, keep that in mind. I did like your writing style as a whole, which is good because it's mega hard to change your style, if not impossible. Overall, nice job on this piece.

If you have any questions, PM me or post on my wall, or whatever. Hope you found this helpful. Peace.