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Short Story - A Life Changing Moment

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Joined: 09 Oct 2005
Posts: 645

PostPosted: Wed Oct 10, 2007 5:52 pm    Post subject: Short Story - A Life Changing Moment Reply with quote

Wow, it's been forever since I've written anything for any reason. I feel kinda bad for not continuing The Mysteries of Uldum, but then again, I don't think anyone really read it. So I guess all is good, but I would like to know if this little short story is at least decent. In personal feelings, I think compared to my other works, it's much more detailed and a little bit more... Thought out. Actually, that's probably a lie since I became inspired when the idea came to me today while farming for primal mana on my mage... In short, it's a little bit of a backstory kinda thing about who you'll find out when you read. So anywho, please read and enjoy and comment. Please?

* * *

His short, greasy dirty-blonde hair reflected the light from the fire due to a long and hard days work in the yard. The piercing blue eyes he had though were glaring with disgust at the man lounging in the chair in front of the fireplace as he walked in from the front door. The man had a mug in his hand and was reclined in his chair. “So you’re finally done with the yard, huh?” the man called from his chair with a slight slur, turning to the boy. His face showed obvious signs on intoxication, the eyes were half-way closed and he seemed to be leaning almost too far out of the chair when trying to look at the boy.

“Yeah, but I would have been in hours ago if someone had actually got up and helped out around here for once.” The boy’s voice had a certain tone of attitude, making the man in the chair grunt loudly, rising from his chair and moving towards the boy. The boy’s eyes continued to glare at the man slowly walking towards him. His blue eyes seem to burn as if they were on fire, showing obvious hatred for the man.

The man, now up close to the boy, sort of wobbled in place, forcing him to rock back and forth, his long and scruffy brown hair that went down to his shoulders, swaying with his every movement. His face had blatant signs of age and had a certain sense of weariness. He curled his upper lip with frustration, then spoke, “When I was your age, I would have been done five hours ago! I do enough work for this house, and I’m the reason for you having a roof over your head and a full plate of food for dinner!” The man hiccoughs and the boy had to turn away for a brief moment in order to stop the smell of alcohol from entering his nostrils as the man had spoke.

The boy regaining his hatred tenfold from the smell of alcohol on the man’s breath and raises his voice, starting to yell, “Well you couldn’t do that anymore if you even wanted to; you fat, useless, drunk! You just sit in your chair wasting away with your booze. You don’t care about me or Mom! You only go to your job just so you can buy more booze to¬–“

The boy was interrupted by a smack across the face from the man, making the man now shout at the boy, “You’re nothing but a worthless, ungrateful child! You know nothing and you’ll hold your tongue before you speak like that to me again! Now go to your room, you get no dinner tonight.” Pointing to the stairs on the man’s right, the boy held a hand over the stinging around on the side of his face. Defeated and upset, the boy stomped upstairs and into his room, slamming the door like a child, regardless that he was thirteen.

Moonlight lit the boy’s room, shining through the window. Having fallen asleep quickly onto the pillow, the boy suddenly woke up to the sound of his window breaking and glass scattering across the floor. In a state of panic, he sprung from his bed to see what happened; all he could see was a shadowy figure crouched on the glass-littered floor, and then before he could get a scream out, the figure dashed towards him, covering his mouth. Struggling and trying to call out for help, the figure held him down. The boy began to try and kick the shadowy figure off of him, and actually managed to break free and knock the figure back by only a few steps into the moonlight. Taking the opportunity, the boy yelled out and called for help as he saw a blade being unsheathed as it reflected in the moonlight.

The door gets shot off its hinges and flies towards the figure, but the figure dodged it leaving the door hitting the wall and falling to the floor covering the glass. A light-blue glow shines through the doorway along with the sound of muttered, unknown words. Thrusting the blue light forward, a sharp bolt of ice flies out of the now not-so-illuminated hands and pierces the figure’s heart. Letting out a loud cry, the ice stays in places and begins to spread slowly across the figures chest and body. Dropping the blade and falling to his knees, the figure reaches out towards the source while another icicle begins to materialize, except it starts to elongate, and take the shape of a lance. The man in the doorway waves his hand and the lance shoots straight into the exact same spot the bolt of ice hit and shatters all of the frozen over parts of the victims body. “No one touches Khallas,” the man in the doorway, now walking towards the corpse, mutters.

“Dad!” Khallas springs out of his bed and quickly runs to his father, staying by him.

The man comforts Khallas and says to him, still with the same smell of liquor on his breath, “So is this old mage still useless?”
When the power of love overcomes the love for power will the world know peace.
- Jimi Hendrix
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Joined: 03 Dec 2005
Posts: 2074
Location: Belgium ... innocuous but intrepid!

PostPosted: Wed Oct 10, 2007 6:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Not half bad, not at all.

There are some unfortunate little errors of spelling, typographical oversights and an untimely abundance and/or lack of punctuation ^^, but nothing you don't know about yet. Read it through a couple of times and you'll have spotted all your own errors, which is just as educative as well Very Happy.

Something that you need to keep a grip on: a story, when told in the same 'momentum' (as I like to call it) is written in the same time frame, ergo Tense. You start with past tenses and then shift to present tenses and again to past etc.

Don't. Stick to either one or the other. Choosing tenses is as personal and particular as picking the best angle of approach to a character (first person - second person; 'ignorant' narrator - omniscient narrator...). Just make up your mind and redo some paragraphs Wink.

Then, the imagery: not very succesful; I must be honest and I hope you don't mind my being candid. It's clear that imagery is one of the hardest nuts to crack as a writer, it lends flair and definite personal style to a recounting and has the interesting tendency to act as a Vulcan Mind Blend in that it (has the ability to put/) puts the writer's thoughts and the reader's thoughts on the same level. A narrative can only be truly interesting if a reader can connect to a text, in whatever way: stylistically, characteristically, psychologically etc.

Pay some attention to this while reading books and you're sure to catch on sooner rather than later Wink.

You still use - and it's no shame for most of us do; awareness is no saving grace - typical and old-fashioned descriptions. Take for instance your drunkard dad. Not all drunks sway. And even if he does, try not to fall into the classic traps of penmanship: creating a totally undesirable archetype that has no depth of itself. Only by attaching subtlety and layers to a character's 'blueprint' can you really tell the reader anything more about the 'drunkard dad', 'bullied son' or 'nightly invader'.

Of course, the transition from this kind of writing and the kind of writing I propose is long and strenuous, but I have faith in you - I wouldn't be giving you this lecture if I didn't Wink -, and hope you will keep this message in mind and read books with an eye for detail to imagery and characters to deduce your own kind of writing style.
the sun may melt the rain
may rinse the sky may sink
the clouds may meet the dirt
may drop your heart may heal

feelings of love you love
fluttering hearts you hate
revealing souls you love
breaking spirits you hate that

the sun...
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 10, 2007 6:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I really do love the responses you give, because they point out all the flaws that I would never be able to catch myself and I actually do learn from it. But thanks a bunch, and about the past/present tense thing, I always do that, that's a slip up I tend to do sometimes when writing a quick piece like this. I never really read over it entirely which I should probably try to do more. Then when you mention it, the imagery does lack that of a good writer, I've always seemed to not put in good imagery in my stories. I tried to do some this time and I guess I see my shoot-for point. Looking at the base of it, it seems a tad bit stereotypical, but I'ma overlook that because this was a quick write-up of an idea I got that I thought was kinda cool. I tend to get those a lot but I never do anything with them. Thanks again though, learnin' from my mistakes!
When the power of love overcomes the love for power will the world know peace.
- Jimi Hendrix
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