Young Writers Society

PLEASE do not give this story mercy - slash it to pieces, ravage it, study it with your microscope, anything to help me improve on my skills! Need all the help I can get.

In the meanwhile, hope you enjoy the story. ^^ If not, tell me what I'm doing wrong.
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Mourning doves filled the dark skies with its cries and alighted on the sill of a bombed window. Smoke billowed from the piles of ashes and debris on the war-ridden ground. The castle lay in complete ruin, the marble crumbled and the columns smashed. The stink of the carcasses filled the land, and patches of fire were still smoldering.

A small hand was lying under a large buildup of rocky slabs and broken wood. For a moment it laid still, frozen and solemn. A thumb moved, followed by the whole hand grasping for a hold. The debris tumbled over as a little girl rose up. She opened her eyes and looked at the destruction around her. Her heart plummeted as her fingers felt for the pendant on her dress. It was gone. As she looked down, the remains of the shattered emerald lay scattered. This was a very bad omen.

Picking up the pieces of the emerald, her nose wrinkled from the horrible stench of the horses and bodies. Her hand tightened its hold over the pieces, defiant over letting them fall to the ground again. Never would she allow that, never. A glint under the rocks caught her eye and she carefully moved the rest of the debris beside her. It was her red collar, laying beside it the royal scepter. Inside the ball of the scepter, all of her father’s Masca* energy was gone.

For the collar, instead of gleaming like it usually did, the red threads were loose and ragged. Four of the diamonds were missing. The last one in the middle, dull and cracked, was her diamond. Surprisingly, she saw it fit – for she knew her four sisters are gone as well.

Breathing deeply, she picked up the collar and read the inside of it.

‘Aria: The Daydreamer’

As much as she was embarrassed by the choice of her nickname long ago, this time she mourned the one person who called her this title. She was known as the Daydreamer. The Idle one. The Nenielle of the family, the princess from her favorite fairy tale who did not do anything except dream about her future.

He never failed to call her ‘Little Neni’.

Tears slid down her cold cheeks. Slowly, she tied the collar around her neck and held onto the scepter.

Aria stood, erect and quiet, on the rubble. The wind whipped at her tattered purple dress and whisked through her long brown hair. At the angle of the sunshine, gray eyes flashed with scorn and sadness. Compared with her small frame, she stood in front of an enormous shell of was once a home rivaled in all the land. Unfortunately, a night of hell demolished it after two hundred years. The screams echoed inside her head and she shuddered.

Not daring to look behind, Aria walked on and gaped at the catastrophe around her. She hesitated on thinking about potential survivors. There were none.

Barefoot, dirty and bleeding, she ran to the only open spot clean of destruction. She finally looked back at what lied behind her, fell hard on her knees and sobbed. Her mind teetered on the edge of losing itself and her heart hammered hard against her chest. Her hands clenched into the dirt and Aria flung piles of it everywhere, screaming out the stress, the nightmare, and the tears…the grief.

Suddenly, she wrote in words with a sharp stick, each letter meant as a curse to the people who ravaged her home. Her hand with splinters, she sat down and picked them out as she looked at what she done. The open patch now read:

‘Here was where a kingdom, wise and strong in its time, fell to the unfortunate hands of miserable traitors. Their lives shall be paid for the innocent blood spilled. The family shall rise again.’

A golden hawk sung over her head. Her head rose up obediently to the call. She sat down again and drew a likeness of the bird along with the message.

With the specter still in her hand, she kept walking. Aria knew the gods would not approve of her thinking like this, but her soul burned for the perpetrators’ heads.

*Masca is a type of regional magic.

Hey Lilac, I'm Hawk and I'm here to review!

Okay, so first off I think this is a good start; it's interesting and definitely has me wanting to read and discover more about this fantasy land. I love stories like this, the sword-and-sorcery-type fantasy, so I'm excited to see where you go with this!

I've got a few nitpicks, but nothing really major.

Mourning doves filled the dark skies with its cries and alighted on the sill of a bombed window.

You use the plural (doves) and then singular (its), and they have to match, so either change it to be one dove or say "their" instead of "its."

A small hand was lying under a large buildup of rocky slabs and broken wood. For a moment it laid still, frozen and solemn. A thumb moved, followed by the whole hand grasping for a hold. The debris tumbled over as a little girl rose up.

This could use a little more description. When you first say there's a hand underneath slabs of rock and wood, I expect the body to be completely crushed underneath. It sounds like there's a lot of rubble that's fallen on top of her. Is there actually a little niche in which she's hidden? Is the rubble not quite as heavy or as much as you make it seem?

Picking up the pieces of the emerald, her nose wrinkled from the horrible stench of the horses and bodies.

Perhaps "dead horses and corpses"? Horses have bodies, too, after all.

Surprisingly, she saw it fit – for she knew her four sisters are gone as well.

First off, this has been written in the past tense, so keep it consistent and change "are" to "were." Secondly, I'm not quite sure what you mean by the diamond "fitting"; are you referring to the fact that it's still intact in the collar?

Her hand "filled," perhaps? with splinters, she sat down and picked them out as she looked at what she done.

I also just want to mention the narration style; it's fine, but it feels a little detached. Right now, as a reader, I'm on the outside, simply watching Aria. You're telling a lot instead of showing; this is something that a lot of writers (including yours truly!) struggle with, so don't worry--you're not alone! I'd like you to take a look at this link, which does an excellent job of explaining how to recognize it in your writing and how to fix it accordingly.

All right, so that's all I've got to say! Please PM me if you've got any questions or whatnot. Keep up the good work! Cheers! (:

Hey! I'm Phaix and I'm here for a quick review

So let's get down to business.

Mourning doves filled the dark skies with its cries and alighted on the sill of a bombed window.

This sentence is a little awkward. the word "skies" and then "cries" makes a lovely image awkward. what about;

"Cries of mournful doves filled the darkness..."

The stink of the carcasses filled the land, and patches of fire were still smoldering.

It might be better if you replaced "land" with "air" here

A small hand was lying under a large buildup of rocky slabs and broken wood. For a moment it laid still, frozen and solemn. A thumb moved, followed by the whole hand grasping for a hold. The debris tumbled over as a little girl rose up. She opened her eyes and looked at the destruction around her.

This needs a little more elaboration. I find it a bit strange that Aria can just get up from a being under a pile of rubble! how does she feel? is she hurt anywhere? how long has she been there? is she cold? is she disoriented?

Picking up the pieces of the emerald, her nose wrinkled from the horrible stench of the horses and bodies.

maybe think about what her emotional response would be to this?

For the collar, instead of gleaming like it usually did, the red threads were loose and ragged.

"gleaming" is something i associate with the lustre or surface of the item. It being "loose and ragged" is something associated with its shape. So this could read along the lines of;

"The collar, which only a day before had gleamed brightly, was now scuffed and dull. The red threads had become loose and ragged, giving it a sick, twisted appearance."

Only a suggestion of course! But i really like this imagery and how it connects the reader to other characters in the story; even though they are now ones we will never know

Breathing deeply, she picked up the collar and read the inside of it.

maybe reword this a little. "Aria breathed deaply, turning the collar in her hands. she read the inscription on the inside, a stab of loss piquing her tears."

As much as she was embarrassed by the choice of her nickname long ago, this time she mourned the one person who called her this title. She was known as the Daydreamer. The Idle one. The Nenielle of the family, the princess from her favorite fairy tale who did not do anything except dream about her future.

He never failed to call her ‘Little Neni’.

this is lovely

Not daring to look behind, Aria walked on and gaped at the catastrophe around her. She hesitated on thinking about potential survivors. There were none.

she survived, right? maybe there would be someone else? just my musings!

Barefoot, dirty and bleeding, she ran to the only open spot clean of destruction. She finally looked back at what lied behind her, fell hard on her knees and sobbed. Her mind teetered on the edge of losing itself and her heart hammered hard against her chest. Her hands clenched into the dirt and Aria flung piles of it everywhere, screaming out the stress, the nightmare, and the tears…the grief.

If she is barefoot and bleeding, surely it would hurt? maybe describe how here feet feel as the run along the rubble.

Suddenly, she wrote in words with a sharp stick,

where did she get the stick from?

Her hand with splinters,

I think you might have missed out a word here. "her hand was full with splinters."?

she sat down and picked them out as she looked at what she done.

"...at what she HAD done."

Conclusion:
I really enjoyed this! it's such a great, dramatic way of making an opening. There are a few issues with wording and so on, but fundamentally, you have the beginnings of a great story here. I am desperate to know what will happen next! My advice would be to proof read repeatedly. Reading it out loud is vital as well, because then you'll notice more of the grammar mistakes (not that I noticed many.) Dont rush over descriptions; you have proven from your opening line that you have a good imagination for lovely imagery. Think about them more. Close your eyes and surround yourself in the world you are creating. Feel every part of it!

Well done PM me if you do an edit or post another chapter

Wow. It all seems very lifelike. There is no better kind of protagonist than one who rises from the ashes, in my opinion. The imagery is beautiful.

Now for the slashing.

LilacSabrie wrote: This was a very bad omen.

When I read it, the 'This was' seemed to take away from the emotion. Something like 'A very bad omen' would help the flow of the story.

LilacSabrie wrote:Compared with her small frame, she stood in front of an enormous shell of was once a home rivaled in all the land.

I think you meant UNrivaled in all the land.

LilacSabrie wrote: Unfortunately, a night of hell demolished it after two hundred years. The screams echoed inside her head and she shuddered.

The word 'Unfortunately' slows down the impact. I think you could improve it and the next sentence. Are the screams still echoing inside her head? play around with the wording.

I think that's all. You tell enough to make the picture complete, but leave out enough details to make the reader curious. Aria is a very likable, believable character. Happy writing!

Mourning doves filled the dark skies with its their cries and alighted on the sill of a bombed window.

'Their', not 'its'.

Surprisingly, she saw it fit – for she knew her four sisters are were gone as well.

Compared with her small frame, she stood in front of an enormous shell of what was once a home unrivaled in all the land.

Unrivaled is a better word here.

A golden hawk sung sang over her head.

Good start to a short story. I only got a few problems though. You are doing more telling instead of showing. Add more description. Just don't a say a character does something, put more description behind it. As far as that I have nothing else to say. If you need another review, feel free to PM, and I will get to it.

Signed,
Varg the Wolf

So sorry it's taken me this long to get to your story. I've been really busy. Anyway. Here's your review, as requested. Oh, and just a small warning: I haven't read any of the other reviews, so I apologize if I repeat something that's already been said.

LilacSabrie wrote:Mourning doves filled the dark skies with its cries and alighted on the sill of a bombed window I have absolutely no idea what you're trying to say here. I'd just rework this whole sentence, especially since it's the first sentence of the story. Starting off with confusing wording is not the best way to go. . Smoke billowed from the piles of ashes The double plural noun here, although correct, sounds a bit strange. and debris on the war-ridden ground. The castle lay in complete ruin, the marble crumbled and the columns smashed. The stink of the carcasses filled the land, and patches of fire were still smoldering. Okay, I think your attempts at dramatizing this through phrasing aren't really working. This whole paragraph sounds off, wording-wise.

A small hand was lying under a large buildup of rocky Not the right word. slabs and broken wood Way too many images. Tone it down a notch. . For a moment it laid lay If it was "lying" (as mentioned in the last sentence), wouldn't the present participle imply that it was lying there for a tad bit more than one moment? Also, saying that just a hand was lying under the "rocky slabs" makes the reader think that it was, indeed, just a hand. Say that the rest of the arm was lost in shadow or something like that. still, frozen and solemn. A thumb moved, followed by the whole hand grasping for a hold Unnecessary. . The debris tumbled over as a little girl rose up. She opened her eyes and looked at the destruction around her. Her heart plummeted as her fingers felt for the pendant on her dress. It was gone. As she looked down, the remains of the shattered emerald lay scattered. This was a very bad omen. Okay. In a completely different context, this would've been all scary and dramatic and whatever else you were aiming for, but here, the reader is just like, "Huh?" Because this is all way too abrupt. Again, you're being too impatient. Save this for later.

Picking up the pieces of the emerald, her nose wrinkled from "From" just doesn't sound quite right. the horrible stench of the horses Are they alive? Or are they dead? In the latter case, it should be something like "horse corpses." and bodies. Her hand tightened its hold over the pieces Second time you've said "pieces" in not too much time. , defiant over letting them fall to the ground again ...What? . Never would she allow that, never The strangeness of the last sentence makes this even more confusing. . A glint under the rocks caught her eye and she carefully moved the rest of the debris beside her. It was her red collar, laying beside it the royal scepter. Inside the ball of the scepter, all of her father’s Masca* energy was gone.

For the collar, instead of gleaming like it usually did, the red threads were loose and ragged Grammatically incorrect. The interruption comma is misplaced. . Four of the diamonds were missing. The last one in the middle, dull and cracked, was her diamond. Surprisingly, she saw it fit – for she knew her four sisters are were Oh, please - at least standardize the tense. gone as well.

Breathing deeply, she picked up the collar and read the inside of it.

‘Aria: The Daydreamer’

As much as she was embarrassed by the choice of her nickname long ago, this time she mourned the one person who called her this title. She was known as the Daydreamer Too halted. And "known as" implies that multiple people called her this, while in the preceding sentence, you say only one person called her "this title." Try to avoid these small traps. . The Idle one. The Nenielle of the family, the princess from her favorite fairy tale who did not do anything except dream about her future.

He never failed to call her ‘Little Neni’. Context makes this sound odd. Needs more backup.

Tears slid down her cold cheeks The amounts of which this is clichéd kills any feeling you were trying to establish. . Slowly, she tied the collar around her neck and held onto the scepter. Did she hold onto the scepter, or did she pick it up?

Aria stood, erect Um...duh? If someone's standing up, it's pretty obvious they're going to be erect. and quiet, onupon the rubble. The wind whipped at her tattered purple dress and whisked through her long brown hair. At the angle of the sunshine, her gray eyes flashed with scorn ...Not the right word at all. and sadness. Compared with her small frame, she stood in front of an enormous shell of was once a home rivaled in all the land This latter clause needs to be thoroughly reworked. Telling a story isn't about to what extent a writer can manipulate the laws of grammar. Keep that in mind. . Unfortunately, a night of hell I'm guessing you weren't intending to rhyme with "shell." demolished it after two hundred years Wait, what? I don't get it. . You double-spaced here. The screams echoed inside her head and she shuddered.

Not daring to look behind her, Aria walked on and gaped at the catastrophe around her. She hesitated onupon thinking about potential survivors. There were none. Well then, why would she consider them "potential survivors?"

Barefoot, dirty, and bleeding, she ran to the [only open spot clean of destruction] Doesn't sound right. . She finally looked back at what liedlay behind her, fell hard on her knees, and sobbed. Her mind teetered on the edge of losing itself It didn't seem like that about 40 seconds ago, and it's not like anything super dramatic has happened. and her heart hammered hard Alliterations won't get you anywhere. against her chest. Her hands clenched into the dirt and Aria flung piles of it everywhere, screaming out the stress, the nightmare, and the tears…the grief. Way too abrupt. Where did all of this come from? Out of the blue she's some anger management patient. Weren't you just telling me she was - what was it? - the "Idle" One? Telling me she throws dirt around randomly definitely makes me believe that.

Suddenly, she wrote in words with a sharp stick, each letter meant as a curse to the people who ravaged her home What? This sounds really strange. . Her hand with splinters , she sat down and picked them out as she looked at what she done. The open patch now read:

‘Here was where a kingdom, wise and strong in its time, fell to the unfortunate hands of miserabletraitors. Their lives shall be paid for the innocent blood spilled Wording is off. . The family What family, again? shall rise again.’

A golden hawk sungsang over her head. Her head rose up obediently to the call.She sat down again and drew something of a likeness of the bird along with beside the message.

With the specter still in herhand, she kept walking. Aria knew the gods would not approve of her thinking like this, but her soul burned for the perpetrators’ heads.

*Masca is a type of regional magic.

Okay! Good luck.

-Kafka

Hi there Lilac. Lavvi in to review.


So, um, this is good in a general view, but personally, I'm not really fan (yet!). I found that most of it was just description, which you're great at, don't get me wrong, and it IS needed, but I want a little more stuff and a little less description. We have enough as it is. It's really well-done, the detail that is. I can visualize everything so clearly, it's amazing. You've done a great job. But now for filling

The concept was kind of cool, but a tad cliche. I've reads loads of fantasy that starts similarly to what you have here. And the one lone survivor thing...yeah. I can list off a bunch of things that are much like this, but I won't

Anyway, I suggest adding more filling, or you could leave it as it is. Maybe it'sin the next chapter and I'm getting ahead of myself. Who knows?

I'm looking forward to seeing if there's going to be your own personal twist in this.

Yours,
Lavvi