Something Dark...........

[igloo15]

Wow I loved the story it was a great read. The violence and grittiness of it had me really drawn. I also like the alternating point of views that seem to be meeting close to the end. I am trying very hard to do the same sort of things in my story hopefully I can execute just as good as you did.

[Lacedaemonian]

Thanks mate. I am not sure it is such a great idea having such short scenes at the beginning of the book. Is their finally meeting sufficient to create this feel of drama? Not sure to be honest.

[Lacedaemonian]

I have written a further 4000 words or so of this chapter. However, I am unsure whether or not to post it up.

- The POV change is not yet cleaned up.
- The grammar and general language needs more work. But then it always does.
- I have not quite drawn this chapter to a close.
- I am not sure if it is a good idea to post up the first full chapter of a story.

Thoughts people.....

[Nesacat]

I'd like to read it.

[timelord4]

Hugo Weaving ~ Rock and Roll star and Glad Wrap specialist

Loved that movie. Loved your story as well.

And by all means, post it.

[chrispenycate]

Sorry I took so long getting round to this. You use a lot of paired repetitive phrases. To start with, I was commenting on these as annoying, then I started to notice the pattern, and stopped. You also seem to have something against the pluperfect tense; I don't know if this is in some way deliberate, making all the past, the past where the story is being told, and the past leading up to that point all one, but I've marked cases anyway. Do feel free to ignore me.

Originally Posted by Lacedaemonian

Introduction: Dewesbury – The Cellars

And the stop and the start and the constant to and fro. The binds. Old rope like nocturnal bracelets. And what

had

happened to his shoes? He could never remember a time when he owned a pair. Some that came to the Cellar liked him gagged

semicolon

others liked to hear his scream. There was a difference, he thought. At first he

had

thought to disappoint them and a whimper was all they

had

got. Thus ensuring he only ever received gentler visitors. Walking the exercise yard changed this though. Bruises, cuts and bite marks covered the ‘screamers’ faces and bodies. They all needed to share this misery

comma

he told himself. And he did.

His scream was raw and hurt his throat.

Orphans, thieves, the destitute. All of them children. All of them boys. He could not remember how he got here?

why the question mark?

He could not remember anything before his time in the Cellar. This was his blessing. Those who remembered, they tended not to last long. He could not remember. But he knew things. He knew things that he had not learned here.

He remembered he had to scream again.

He was the oldest boy in the Cellar. Not sure how he knew this. Another of those not quite memories. There were bigger lads than him but something about them said they were all younger. They made no conversation. There was almost nothing to break up the routine of the Cellar. None of them had truly lived. Those who had memories either perished or closed their mind to the past in order to survive. At some point, he could not remember when exactly, he became the oldest boy in the Cellar. He had been here longer than any of the other boys except maybe for Duke, who he could not recall arriving here. But Duke had the mind of a baby.

“You look just like my brothers

brother's

son…”

He lay still, slumped across the barrel and feigned exhaustion. Screams filled the Cellars around him. Beautiful, he thought.

His name was Stone. He made the calls. When he told them to scream….


** ** ** ** **

She sat next to the pond, her feet dangled in the cool water. She watched the different coloured fish,

no comma

her father had bought, milling around her feet. Each cost a small fortune

comma

her mother would often say. Proud at the extravagance that her husband lavished on her. Her father was never home and would spoil her mother with such gifts whenever he returned.

"was never" "when he returned"? logical inconsistancy

She knew that she was lucky to have a very wealthy father, but she would rather he was at home more often. She had stopped looking forward to the gifts a long time ago. She wanted for nothing.

Lately she had noticed her mother becoming increasingly depressed but she did not know why. She tried to make her happy. She wore her white blonde hair up like

as; not only for grammar reasons but to remove the "like - liked" dichotomy

her mother liked her to. She now wore the emerald green dress her mother always begged her to wear. Her mother had not even noticed at breakfast that morning. What was going on? She hoped her father would return home some day soon. That would make her mother happy.
Shouts from the house broke her melancholy. What was going on? She slipped her matching emerald green slippers onto her feet and

comma

holding her dress up from the grass

comma

she made her way back up to the house. Crossing the lawn, she made her way into the house.

repeat of "made her way...the house" deliberate?

What was going on? City guards were scattered throughout the house. Trentley, one of the house guards lay still on the floor. Was he dead? She could not tell. She moved through the hallway to where he lay. Blood soaked his usually spotless beige tunic.

He was dead.

Horrified she looked for her mother. She asked a city guard if he had seen her mother. The guard ignored her and continued staring into space. A fat man with long moustache strolled down the stairwell. He seemed to be in charge. “Where is my mother, sir?”

“Your mother has been taken into custody to answer some questions regarding your traitorous father and his whereabouts.”

“My father is not a traitor.” She had no idea whether he was or was not but she knew that he was a good man. “He is a good man.”

“Well that remains to be seen. For the time being you can remain at Dewesbury Castle.”

“Why can I not remain here? This is my home.”

“As of today all of your father’s assets have been seized by the state, this is no longer your home….”

“Duchess Josephine (????)”

“You are no longer a Duchess. I will arrange transport to your new home. For how long really depends on your mother and father.”

“Thank you, good sir.” She responded politely. She did not want to lose face but her insides were screaming out. What had her father done?

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Stone sat mopping up his soup with a chunk of bread. He stared around at the other tables. One boy sat with his full bowl of soup and chunk of bread untouched in front of him. This was the fourth day in a row. They used to make wagers on how long the ‘starvers’ would last. Stone had put an end to that. It was wrong. Another not quite memory. The winners of such wagers won absolutely nothing. He had won once. He remembered how he felt, almost like he had condemned the poor soul himself. There was nothing that could be done for a ‘starver’

semicolon; and since it's "a starver", shouldn't it be "He had made his choice"? I do understand that this is common to all 'starver's)

they had made their choice. They did not want to go on living anymore.

When he was younger

comma; and should it not be "when he had been younger"?

an older boy had told him that if he looked after himself he might get moved to the ‘mines’. He had no idea what the ‘mines’ were but he thought it

they

must be a better place than the Cellars.

He had to survive.

There were times that a boy would be killed by an enthusiastic visitor. There were times that a visitor would take a boys

boy's

life as part of the service the Cellar provided. Stone shivered at the thought. His whole body reacted to these thoughts, yet he did not know why?

why question mark?

He just knew he had to protect the boys. But he did not know how to.

He was starting to get hair growing under his arms and around his penis. The men who visited him also had hair in these places. Stone was not sure what this meant. He had noticed that Duke also had hair in these places. He would have asked him about this but the only three things Duke could say were, “Duke”, “I be good” and “Stone”. Stone looked across at his longest living friend and smiled. Duke smiled back and pointed at himself “I be good, Stone”.

“Yes

comma

you are good.” Stone patted him on the arm. Duke beamed back at him. Stone knew that his survival here owed a lot to this happy fool sat in front of him. He was always so happy, no matter what. Something inside Stone told him that both of

do you really need that "both of"?

their chances of survival would always be entwined.

Alone

comma; and I'd put that "both" after the "would" (actually I'd use "separated" instead of "alone", as I feel it goes better with the later plurals)

they would perish.

** ** ** ** **

Josephine walked around the yard. Huge thick walls stood around the small yard. She could see nothing but sky above her. She remembered feeling excited when she

had

first arrived at the castle, it was huge. She also remembered feeling guilty for feeling excited when the safety of both her parents was far from certain. She felt the anger growing inside her again. It had been growing in the last two weeks as despair set in. Why had her father done this to her?

The castle was not her real destination. This place, this ‘Cellars’ was where she had ended up. At first she thought it was some sort of mistake. That thought lasted only a day. There were a handful of other young aristocratic women here. The stories she had heard……

Her soul screamed.

She had not had a ‘visitor’ yet… The girls looked ghastly… This place was beyond nightmares, beyond her darkest thoughts…. She would not survive here.

** ** ** **

Stone and Duke leant across the table and arm wrestled. It was something that Duke wanted to play. Stone had no idea where Duke had got the idea. They both grinned at each other as they both used all of their strength to try and push each others

other's

hand onto the table. Duke slammed Stone’s hand onto the table and laughed. “I be good.” Duke always won, he was so strong.

“Yes you are, Duke.” He smiled warmly at him.

Stone looked at the empty place at a table across the room. Sleep well

comma

friend, he thought to himself. Duke looked too. Duke offered his bowl of soup to Stone, “Stone?” he asked.

“You eat it Duke.” Duke’s face exploded in a grin and began to eat his meal with his usual enthusiasm. Stone guessed that Duke worried that he might stop eating too.
The bell was rung. The men rarely spoke to the boys. Ringing of bells and routine made this unnecessary. When he was younger an ‘aristocrat’ had attacked two of the men. He was killed quickly and dragged out and left in the yard for a week as a message to the boys not to do this again. Even as they stoved his head in with their hammers they did not speak

had not spoken?

a word. The boys did not react either but Stone remembered the look some of the boys had in their eyes. He was not sure what it was until now. It was something like friendship.

The bell rang.

All of the boys stood up and lined up at the wall as normal. When the door was pushed open fully the boys started to file back to their cells. One of the men grabbed a boy out of the line and pushed him to one side. This caused some confusion with the boys but they were ushered on by another man. As Stone and Duke filed through the door, Stone was grabbed and pushed to one side. Duke moved as if to strike the man. Stone panicked, “Stone is okay, Duke.” Duke was ushered back into line his face a mask of worry.

Stone did not get a chance to reassure him further. He and the other boy were bundled up some steps and left standing outside a large wooden door. The boy had a strange look on his face, and nodded at Stone. Stone watched as the boy ran and hurtled himself through a small window and crumpled in a heap on the ground some distance below. Stone had never been this high before and suddenly felt dizzy looking out of the window. Neither of the men spoke.

The large door opened and a small wiry man stood in the doorway and looked side to side. “Baker jump?”

The men nodded.

“Fetch Mr Drake then.”

Both men marched back down the stairs.

The small wiry man turned and looked down at Stone, “You thinking about killing yourself, Mr Stone?”

“No.”

“No, what?” The small wiry man seemed to be waiting for Stone to say something.

“Not myself.” This seemed to throw the wiry man’s face into confusion. Stone was not sure what he was supposed to have said.

“You try anything and you will be joining your friend out in the yard.” He said gesturing at the broken window.

Stone thought this was a strange thing to say. Why was Duke out in the strange yard? He should be getting scrubbed clean now, ready for the Visitors. Stone moved over to the window and peered down. The boy named Baker lay crumpled in a heap in the centre of the large yard. Nobody else was in they yard. “My friend is not down there.”

“Eh he just got up, scaled the wall and absconded did he?” The wiry man was smiling and seemed pleased. Absconded, Stone thought, what a strange word.
“He absconded.” Stone said trying the word out.

The little wiry man raced over to window, his smile gone from his face. He leaned out to view the yard below him. Stone pushed him in the back so that he lost his balance and fell forward through the window into the silent darkening day. Which was broken moments later by a sickening crunching noise, as the wiry man’s wiry bones met the hard stone floor of the yard.

Stone stood with his back against the rough wall next to the window. He was not sure why he had pushed the wiry man out of the window but it felt good. The two men returned dragging a shaken Duke up the stairs. “Stone?” He said which by his tone said so much more.

“Where is Grimand?” The one with the beard asked.

Stone stood with his hands behind his back, motionless but for his eyes which twitched madly as they always did.

“The small man who was with you just before?” The smallest faced one asked.

“He went down to the yard.” Stone asked,

he didn't ask, he explained

the twitching in his eyes stopping suddenly. The bearded one leaned out of the broken window straining to see the yard below in the failing light of day. Stone leaned next to him, “He is right there next to the boy named Baker.” Stone helped, pushing the big faced man with a beard out of the window. Was

the

sound of his bones shattering as they smashed into the stone floor of the yard louder than the noise the wiry man they named Grimand

had

made when he hit the floor? Stone could not be certain. “Can you see him now, man with a large bearded face?”

“What..?” The smallest faced one’s mouth hung open like his eyes.

“Absconded.” Stone declared pointing at the window with a smile.

“You killed ‘em.” The smallest faced one reached for his hammer and managed to raise it above his head. Duke grabbed a hold of the smallest faced one’s eyes, making him scream. Stone smiled at Duke, who smiled right back. Duke was the greatest boy in the Cellar.

He picked up a piece of broken glass from the stone window ledge and pressed it into his hand. His hand bled. He looked up at Duke and smiled. “Killed ‘em.” He repeated as he ran the piece of broken glass across the smallest faced ones neck. Blood spilled out like water form

from

a bucket. “Duke?” Stone asked gesturing towards the broken window. Duke understood.

CRACK.

Four bodies lay jumbled up on the yard below.

“Stone?” Duke looked up through the open door.

“We kill ‘em.”


*** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

[Lacedaemonian]

Chris I appreciate the time you have spent on my piece.

I would ignore the Josephine POV's. They were quickly drafted to pad the story out and I always intended to rehash them. Thus I wont respond to any comments on that piece. We are both agreed it is crap. The only comment I will make about one of your points is the reference to her father never being at home. This is an exaggeration. It does not mean that he is actually never had home but that he is rarely at home. Not sure if something was lost in translation there, mate.

The main point you make is regards the tense of the Stone POV. I am struggling with whether to agree or disagree with you here. I make no apologies for my style of writing. I know that it is not orthodox. I could write in near perfect English, but my imagination demands that I break some of those rules.

I would like to hear what other people have to say about this question of tense, Chris. I am not doubting that you are correct, all I want to know is whether I would lose the feel of the prose if I conformed to the tense rules you are suggesting.

Cheers mate!

[dustinzgirl]

Originally Posted by Lacedaemonian

I have written a further 4000 words or so of this chapter. However, I am unsure whether or not to post it up.

- The POV change is not yet cleaned up.
- The grammar and general language needs more work. But then it always does.
- I have not quite drawn this chapter to a close.
- I am not sure if it is a good idea to post up the first full chapter of a story.

Thoughts people.....

Lacedaemonian has exceeded their stored private messages quota and can not accept further messages until they clear some space.

[Lacedaemonian]

lol mate. I have 73 private messages.

PM box now completely empty dusty.

Edit: I am more concerned with content than grammar at this point. I should have made this point before posting. Sorry.

[Kromaethius]

Better, good job -- Ignoring Grammatics, Keep at 'r remember there are only two types of people in this world -- People who have the gift to create and critics. Who remembers the critics?

Take what you think is positive, hold it, run with it, and the rest, leave it at the door where you found it.

Also remember, everyone who wants to write, to become an author, over 90% of them fail to become published. Seperate yourself from the negative critics out there -- It seems that I get the impression there is people here on this forum trying to help you.

A word of warning, some may have different styles, don't lose your way. I read lots of grammatically correct books that put me in a coma of bordum and I read some wonderful creative and inspiring works on the other hand that had some errors -- I am far from perfect and I try very hard and it shows as it does with you.

I encourage you to further develop your style and your craft, bang away, nothing in this life is easy that is important and worthwhile. Being an author, an inspiring author to be published takes a lot of Moxie and only 10% of us make it to the Online and Bookstores!

Send me your first ISBN -- I'll be looking forward to it. I hope this encourages you as I peer into the higher view of your success. It's hard work, you have the talent, and again, let see if you have the moxie!

Also you may want to think about going after this thing more seriously, think bigger and broader on your presentation, not just on this story, but your craft in general -- I realize that you may have, but consider getting your own blog, promote your works on the web -- there's a ton of resources and ideas out there to get you started -- Yes, a lot of this is free, but guess what, it's gonna take some work Josephine, some serious work.

Writing a good story is about 5% of the entire work... Most importantly, have fun doing this, your good at it, you show promise...

Again, I hope that I am encouraging you as the others here do as well.

Kindest regards...

Doug

[Nik]

All that cruelty and evil, then a sparrow falls and breaks the mould...

I've written some dark tales, but nothing --Nothing !!-- to compare to this.

[Lacedaemonian]

Thanks lads (lasses) I appreciate your comments. I expect my story will be fantastical and have some unbelievable aspects - it is a fantasy story after all - but when a punch is thrown knuckles will break and split right open. It has to be real. It has to be gritty.

This chapter will be padded out with some more adjectives later.

[Mithridelle]

A dark and somewhat uncomfortable story...but a very intriguing one!
If you continue at this level, making a few adjustments here and there, tidying things up a little, I believe that you will have a great story on your hands. Looking foward to the next update,

Mithridelle

[Lacedaemonian]

Thank you very much mate. I have posted the next two extracts from this chapter. Needs a hell of a lot of work doing to it but I do feel confident that it has the making of a good story.