Young Writers Society

I didn’t understand. I was ... I was on my street! How? Somehow, nothing made sense. Everything seemed unrealistic and blurry. I looked at the scene around me. Two men adorned on horses backs, sweat lined along there brow like soldiers, the horses pawing the ground impatiently.

The men had dusty skin, weathered and calloused, as if the ground had been imprinted upon them. They wore hats, and glinting like stars on a velvet sky, guns hung from there belts like prisoners at the gallows.

Where was I? Adrenaline coursed through my body, I tensed up. Something wasn’t right. The men pulled the gun from there belts, slipping off their horses with predatory grace. The walked towards me, their eyes glinting savagely. A drum began to pound, slow cracks splintering the air like thunder claps cut short. My heart lurched in my mouth. They stowed their guns, and turned toward each other.

I blinked, and suddenly, they were facing each other, merely a breadth away. Both spun on there heels, and took slow, deliberate steps away from each other. Hands hovering above their guns, they paused. The drum cut short. Both men cried out, spinning around; brandishing their guns.

I screamed, and the sound mingled with the bang that echoed around the street, tearing at the air and sky and clouds, shattering them like glass. I crouched low, shaking. Both men remained standing, until one swayed and crumpled to the ground like a discarded ragdoll.

The horses snorted and reared, and a sudden thought flashed across my mind. I shouldn’t be here. I stepped back, and fell in a trough of water. The cold water filled my lungs as I gasped in shock, but I couldn’t feel anything. I coughed, and stood up. My clothes were dripping, but I couldn’t feel the way they clung to me. In a moment of pure foolishness, I raced towards the dead man and pulled out his gun.

“The Sherriff of Texas- dead...” The voices swirled around me, like water that chases a spoon when it drags through the liquid, but I placed the gun to my leg.

The trigger snapped into place, and a bang echoed.

Blood pooled on the floor. A red rose on a barren wasteland. I touched my leg in shock. I couldn’t feel pain. I should be screaming; I wasn’t.

Why?

I couldn’t feel this pain because I didn’t belong here. This was Texas, 1866, I lived in London, 1666 The puzzle pieces fell into place. I didn’t belong. And then I realised why I didn’t understand. I hadn’t understood, because one minute I was on Baker Street, the next here. And then my whole body did begin to hurt, all over, as if tongues of flame were being dragged along it. I screamed.

It was 2011, and one man was sat watching a TV programme about Cowboys in Texas. He’d just been watching a documentary on the Great Fire of London, and then switched over. He was confused. Why? Because there, in the corner of the TV, was a huddle of black pixels, as dark as night, with ribbons of grey playing through them, and, strangely, they formed the silhouette of a young girl...

Where was I? Adrenaline coursed through my body, I tensed up. Something wasn’t right. The men pulled the gun from there belts, slipping of their horses with predatory grace.

Great story though, the last part was a little too fast paced and possibly needs a little cleaning up. Cool idea though, I obviously have some competition :D

Aaaah. I see what you mean. It was supposed to get faster paced, but how do you mean "Clear it up?"

Yes, and I will beat you! Mwahahahahaha! xD xD xD Lol.

Lol, but I think if you slowed it up a bit and possibly allow the character to gradually realize what had happened it would be clearer. It just seems like a blur towards the end.

Aaaaah. I see. OK! I will see about changing that

Hey there!

I didn’t understand. I was ... I was on my street! How? Somehow, nothing made sense. Everything seemed unrealistic and blurry. I looked at the scene around me. Two men adorned on horses backs, sweat lined along their brows like soldiers, the horses pawing the ground impatiently. The men had dusty skin, weathered and calloused, as if the ground had been imprinted upon them. They wore hats, and glinting like stars on a velvet sky, guns hung from their belts like prisoners at the gallows. Where was I? Adrenaline coursed through my body and I tensed up. Something wasn’t right.
New paragraph here
The men pulled the gun from their belts, slipping off their horses with predatory grace. The walked towards me, their eyes glinting savagely. A drum began to pound, slow cracks splintering the air like thunder claps cut short. My heart lurched in my mouth. They stowed their guns, and turned toward each other. I blinked, and suddenly, they were facing each other, merely a breadth away. Both spun on their heels, and took slow, deliberate steps away from each other. Hands hovering above their guns, they paused. The drum cut short. Both men cried out, spinning around; brandishing their guns. I screamed, and the sound mingled with the bang that echoed around the street, tearing at the air and sky and clouds, shattering them like glass. I crouched low, shaking. Both men remained standing, until one swayed and crumpled to the ground like a discarded ragdoll. The horses snorted and reared, and a sudden thought flashed across my mind. I shouldn’t be here.
Maybe a new paragraph here, too
I stepped back, and fell in a trough of water. The cold water filled my lungs as I gasped in shock, but I couldn’t feel anything. I coughed, and stood up. My clothes were dripping, but I couldn’t feel the way they clung to me. In a moment of pure foolishness, I raced towards the dead man and pulled out his gun.
“The Sherriff of Texas- dead...” The voices swirled around me, like water that chases a spoon when it drags through the liquid, but I placed the gun to my leg.
The trigger snapped into place, and a bang echoed.
Blood pooled on the floor. A red rose on a barren wasteland. I touched my leg in shock. I couldn’t feel pain. I should be screaming; I wasn’t.
Why?
I couldn’t feel this pain because I didn’t belong here. This was Texas, 1866, I lived in London, 1666 The puzzle pieces fell into place. I didn’t belong. And then I realised why I didn’t understand. I hadn’t understood, because one minute I was on Baker Street, the next here. And then my whole body did begin to hurt, all over, as if tongues of flame were being dragged along it. I screamed.

It was 2011, and one man was sat watching a TV programme about Cowboys in Texas. He’d just been watching a documentary on the Great Fire of London, and then switched over. He was confused. Why? Because there, in the corner of the TV, was a huddle of black pixels, as dark as night, with ribbons of grey playing through them, and, strangely, they formed the silhouette of a young girl...

So, I think this has potential. All it needs really is a bit of fleshing out. Like the reviewer above has mentioned, the ending is too quick. One way I think you can make the plot clearer to the reader is to add more information at the start.

I didn’t understand. I was ... I was on my street! How? Somehow, nothing made sense. Everything seemed unrealistic and blurry. I looked at the scene around me.

Okay, so here, you could add in more confusion. Something about how, 'One minute I'd been watching a fire turn the sky orange and the next I was here. But where was here?'

That's a really lame, rushed example, but you get the gist of what I'm suggesting you add, right? Show the reader just how confused she is. That way, the reader wil know right from the start that something strange is going on.

I also thing you could stand to add in something else here -

I shouldn’t be here. I stepped back, and fell in a trough of water. The cold water filled my lungs as I gasped in shock, but I couldn’t feel anything. I coughed, and stood up. My clothes were dripping, but I couldn’t feel the way they clung to me. In a moment of pure foolishness, I raced towards the dead man and pulled out his gun.

I want to see just how panicked she is. Can she feel her pulse racing? Her head spinning as she tries to work out what's going on? Can she feel a scream welling in her throat? These are only suggestions, but I think you should really play on her emotions here. The stronger you describe what she's feeling, the more the reader will be able to imagine what's going on.

I think you have wonderful descriptions throughout this piece The story just needs fleshing out and editing.

I hope this helps!

xDudettex

Dear PrincessOfDarkness,

One thing that I have noticed whenever I have reviewed her, is the fact that everything is balanced on top of this rich black fiction that is equal amounts of both. I love Historical Fiction. Fortunately, yours carried the same too.

Need I say more?

I think that you should add a sequel to this story, as it seems like a good beginning. Perhaps you should make chapters and turn this into a novel. I expect that people will want to read it then.

I found many good things and faults in this story. I am sorry that I have to say the faults, but they are more or less put there to make your story seem better. Okay? I hope my way of speaking does not insult you in any way.

Well, here they are:

1:

I didn’t understand. I was ... I was on my street! How? Somehow, nothing made sense. Everything seemed unrealistic and blurry. I looked at the scene around me. Two men adorned on horses backs, sweat lined along there brow like soldiers, the horses pawing the ground impatiently. The men had dusty skin, weathered and calloused, as if the ground had been imprinted upon them. They wore hats, and glinting like stars on a velvet sky, guns hung from there belts like prisoners at the gallows. Where was I? Adrenaline coursed through my body, I tensed up. Something wasn’t right. The men pulled the gun from there belts, slipping off their horses with predatory grace. The walked towards me, their eyes glinting savagely. A drum began to pound, slow cracks splintering the air like thunder claps cut short. My heart lurched in my mouth. They stowed their guns, and turned toward each other. I blinked, and suddenly, they were facing each other, merely a breadth away. Both spun on there heels, and took slow, deliberate steps away from each other. Hands hovering above their guns, they paused. The drum cut short. Both men cried out, spinning around; brandishing their guns. I screamed, and the sound mingled with the bang that echoed around the street, tearing at the air and sky and clouds, shattering them like glass. I crouched low, shaking. Both men remained standing, until one swayed and crumpled to the ground like a discarded ragdoll. The horses snorted and reared, and a sudden thought flashed across my mind. I shouldn’t be here. I stepped back, and fell in a trough of water. The cold water filled my lungs as I gasped in shock, but I couldn’t feel anything. I coughed, and stood up. My clothes were dripping, but I couldn’t feel the way they clung to me. In a moment of pure foolishness, I raced towards the dead man and pulled out his gun.

The problem with your story is the fact that you don't add any spaces to create small paragraphs. The way that you have done is way too long - just so that you know. Below, I have changed it into the way that I think that would be best:

I didn’t understand. I was ... I was on my street! How? Somehow, nothing made sense. Everything seemed unrealistic and blurry. I looked at the scene around me.Two men adorned on horses backs, sweat lined along there brow like soldiers, the horses pawing the ground impatiently.

The men had dusty skin, weathered and calloused, as if the ground had been imprinted upon them. They wore hats, and glinting like stars on a velvet sky, guns hung from there belts like prisoners at the gallows.

Where was I? Adrenaline coursed through my body, I tensed up. Something wasn’t right. The men pulled the gun from there belts, slipping off their horses with predatory grace. The walked towards me, their eyes glinting savagely. A drum began to pound, slow cracks splintering the air like thunder claps cut short. My heart lurched in my mouth. They stowed their guns, and turned toward each other.

I blinked, and suddenly, they were facing each other, merely a breadth away. Both spun on there heels, and took slow, deliberate steps away from each other. Hands hovering above their guns, they paused. The drum cut short. Both men cried out, spinning around; brandishing their guns.

I screamed, and the sound mingled with the bang that echoed around the street, tearing at the air and sky and clouds, shattering them like glass. I crouched low, shaking. Both men remained standing, until one swayed and crumpled to the ground like a discarded ragdoll.

The horses snorted and reared, and a sudden thought flashed across my mind. I shouldn’t be here. I stepped back, and fell in a trough of water. The cold water filled my lungs as I gasped in shock, but I couldn’t feel anything. I coughed, and stood up. My clothes were dripping, but I couldn’t feel the way they clung to me. In a moment of pure foolishness, I raced towards the dead man and pulled out his gun.

That is my way of changing it.

2:

Because there, in the corner of the TV, was a huddle of black pixels, as dark as night, with ribbons of grey playing through them, and, strangely, they formed the silhouette of a young girl . . .

That part sent a shiver down my back. Awesome. How did you think of that?

There are many more grammatical mistakes made in your post. I haven't bothered to mention them all, though. I hope you don't mind. Another reviewer already has. I hope you don't mind (Again).

I tried my best to explain all the points. I hope this helps you change this post and make it better. Do you?

Regards,
Nova

P.S. My arms are hurting from all these reviews for my team. And . . . it is still loosing . . . anyways. . .

"GO CHARMANDERS! Don't give up now! Even if we don't do it this month, we can always try next month! I don't think there is a prize anyways!" is what I would have liked to say a few minutes back, but now I am not so sure. Which team are you on?