Young Writers Society

The trouble all began when the forest burned.
The drought was all well and good – nature doing what it would – with the sun welcome after such a long period of gloom and mist. The lake that lapped at the village’s heels was expansive and clean, more than large enough to keep the village alive for however long the dry weather lasted.
The forest beyond the ridge, however, suffered greatly. It grew drier and drier with each passing week. Plants wilted. Boughs drooped. Animals accompanied the trees they depended on to death’s door.
We were forbidden to start any fires near the forest, and were warned that the slightest spark would send the whole thing up in smoke. We listened to the warnings; it wasn’t as if it were an inconvenience. We never went near that forest anyway. Not with the wyvern about.
We’d often seen those scarlet wings, and that blazing red, serpentine shape, slithering through the sky. Queen of the forest. Feared from afar by our grandparents, and their grandparents, and their grandparents before them. That something should live so long seemed a travesty – a mockery of life itself.
We kept well away from the creature’s hunting grounds, spending more of our time in the groves that lined the lake’s shores. The ridge was too steep for the crossing to be worthwhile anyhow.
No… The spark that devoured the wyvern’s forest was not born of human hands, but of lightning, once the dry storms rolled in. Not a drop of rain fell, but the clouds raged, and the wind screamed. Nature tried its hardest to send us moisture that simply was not here… Or perhaps it had simply tired of the wyvern’s presence in its midst, and had decided to set her upon the humans.
Whatever its motivation, the lightning was surely the cause of the forest fire that raged beyond the ridge. Ancient trees dissolved into ashes. For the first time in centuries, the land past the ridge appeared flat, unbroken by neither sapling nor shrub. In most cases, the animals that fled in the direction of the ridge found themselves trapped - easy pickings for the village hunters. But the wyvern was not a simple animal.
At first, we saw no sign of the creature. We wondered if we’d seen the last of those crimson wings. A melancholy hush settled over the village. It was as if an intimidating yet wonderful older sister had suddenly passed away.
But then, one day, a scarlet ‘S’ rose up from the ashes, more like a phoenix than a wyvern. Dozens of people witnessed it; dozens of eyes were fixed on the forest’s wreckage at any given time, in those days. They cried out, calling their friends and neighbors to come see, and so it came to be that nearly the whole village watched as the creature grew larger and larger in the sky.
Almost the whole village.
I was swimming in the lake. Glorious water enveloped my body and filled my ears, dulling them to the exclamations of the outside world. And how that world must have exclaimed when the wyvern settled down in the village square.
They certainly exclaimed about it later. ‘Those glittering ruby scales.’ ‘Those luminous eyes, like miniature suns.’ But most of all, ‘those red, red curtains of glossy, perfect feathers.’
It seemed that not a single person in the village would be satisfied until I’d heard their account of the matter at least six times.
Perhaps they were simply sorry that I’d never be able to see it clearly for myself, my eyes being as bad as they were. More likely, I gave off the impression that I needed to be convinced. That I wanted to have it explained to me over and over again, how I could come back from a swim and find the entire village catering to the every whim of something we’d been warned about for our entire lives.
That isn’t to say that the explanation was a good one. ‘It was beautiful.’ So was the flowering plant that had sprouted a few years earlier, at the edge of the pastures. They’d torn it out of the ground all the same, once it made the livestock sick. Yet this creature had entranced all of them. It ate from their hands, swallowing our best meats whole.
My first impression was that of a smear of red across my vision. Like a smear of blood, right in the midst of all the familiar smudges that were my friends and neighbors. My breath caught in my throat. I felt the way I did when I stayed underwater for too long.
But they all assured me that it was safe. Not just safe, but wonderful. Who knew how the old ones had gotten such a twisted perception of the thing.
Not dangerous. Only different.
Different and wonderful.
I’m not making a joke when I say that I’ve never been one to believe blindly. Even when observing something with my own eyes, I’ll always take a few minutes to really figure out what I’m seeing. It was no surprise, then, that I did not welcome the wyvern with open arms.
I slipped out of the square, a worried feeling settling over me. Something is wrong. This is wrong. I said as much to my family. My neighbors. My friends, my teachers, my leaders. Everyone I’d ever looked up to. Everyone I’d ever despised.
They all simply claimed that I was the one who had it wrong. Their voices were dreamy, and I could tell that they were a million miles away, even if I couldn’t see the distant look in their eyes. Some grew angry with me, brushing past me roughly on their way to get more food for the beast.
There were some villagers affected not so deeply. Their certainty faltered when I spoke to them, far away from the wyvern and its wiles. For just a little while, they would listen to me, not saying anything. But the cloud always settled back over them when they returned to the creature’s throne, intent on seeing for themselves whether it was truly a danger or not. I did notice, however, that the very oldest in the village stayed indoors, and that fewer children wandered in the square, perhaps pushed away by the same feeling that I had. Something was wrong. But even these souls wouldn’t admit that I could be right. They were less fooled. But they weren’t completely free of the wyvern’s spell.
What I needed was proof. There were books in the schoolhouse that I remembered from my younger days. Rumors of legends. Printed down neatly not because the writer expected them to be needed, but because he thought that they good stories. Stories worth passing down through the generations.
The only problem was finding someone to read them to me. I could hardly make out the shapes of my own fingers, let alone the words on a page. In the end, I took them to the square, looking for anyone willing to read for me.
My teacher happily obliged. And when he realized that the stories were written about the village’s new pet, or prize, or ruler… Well. They passed the book around, reading in loud, happy voices. The wyvern must not have been unable to understand words, or she would have put a stop to it.
Or maybe not. Because even as the villagers read chilling stories about predators wrapped in the guise of beauty, and pale, glowing eyes that could lure prey right into the jaws of ravenous, beasts that were never, ever satisfied…
They did not stop laughing.
They sang. They danced. Completely under her spell. And my own heart sunk lower and lower.
Perhaps the only one who paid any attention to my distress was the wyvern herself. I think now that she had asense of things… Not of words – those were still foreign to her - but of feelings. I believe that she knew my will had not been overpowered.
A few days after the displaced queen found her new subjects in my village, I had already tired of being around while it ate up my people’s food, time, and attentions. I went where I always went when I was out of sorts.
Underwater, the world made sense. Everything felt the same way that it looked to me. Soft. Not like on land, where fuzzy things turned out to be sharp, and where smears and smudges turned out to be very concrete indeed, and very painful to run into.
Underwater, I did not have to carry the long tree branch I used to find my way. Underwater, I was free.
But that day, it was wrong. That day, I saw a flash of muted red in the corner of my vision. And then I felt a crushing pain against my ribs. Something squeezed me, tighter and tighter, ordering me to gasp at the pain. To struggle. To breathe. To drown.
My fists flew, but were mostly useless underwater. I found the bottom of the lake and grabbed onto the weeds, the sunken branches, anything. Scraped its ropes of muscle, along with my own body, against the sharp, uneven rocks. My lungs burned. I thought slippery fish thoughts, wriggling and twisting and trying to push the coil down past my hips. Perhaps my only salvation was that I was not the only creature that needed to draw breath in order to live. The coils relaxed, and my legs slipped out of the loops completely. I was free.
Free, and swimming faster than I ever had before. I dragged myself, choking, onto shore. But I couldn’t stop there. People. I needed people. In a stroke of luck, I stumbled across my walking stick. I used it to get to my feet and run into the village.
People, people, people.
I was still coughing up water as I staggered into the square. Everyone was still gathered there, laughing. Singing. Dancing. Like it was some kind of festival.
They kept laughing as I made my accusation. They didn’t seem to care that something had just tried to kill me, or that the wyvern was mysteriously absent from its ‘throne’ of all our best cloths and fabrics, and the quilts we used to keep warm during the winter.
They just kept laughing. They said that I must have seen it wrong. And they all thought that was even funnier. As if I could mistake ‘a clump of weeds’ for something alive! I didn’t just see it. I felt the scales. The contracting of its muscles. Its feathers had brushed against my back.
I knew what it was.
But they just kept laughing. Even when the wyvern slithered back into the village from the direction of the lake, cutting a wide path around me on her way back to the throne. Why had she even bothered to try and catch me alone? It wasn’t like anyone would try to stop her. One flutter of her blood-red wings, and the villagers would probably line up to assist her.
I stayed away from the square after that. Like the oldest villagers, I stayed in my house, brooding, trying to find a way to convince everyone that the wyvern was not as ‘harmless’ as they insisted. The thing about trying to convince people, however, is that there need to be people around for you to convince. And soon, no one was leaving the square. People camped there, night and day, away from their own houses. Most had stopped going to work, aside from those who grew, gathered, or hunted food. And where did most of the fruits of their labor go? Straight down the wyvern’s gullet.
If I even wanted to try to convince people, I would have to go to the square myself, and hope that the wyvern wouldn’t try anything with all of her followers looking on.
That was how I came to be there on the day when a little girl hardly old enough to speak began to bawl at the top of her lungs. She huddled on the ground, hands wrapped in the fluffy white fur of a growling dog. The animal’s hackles were raised, but not at the girl. Its aggression was focused on the wyvern that towered before the pair, tongue flickering out to taste the air. The wyvern’s body was already plump, full of half our storehouse’s contents, and yet it loomed menacingly over the dog and the girl. It was still hungry.
“Stop!” I screamed, darting forward. My feet betrayed me, slipping on a stone that I hadn’t seen, and I fell, scraping up my knees.
The mother was there, but to my shock she wasn’t defending her child, or her pet. Quite the opposite. “You let go of that dog this instant,” she said. Like all the others, she sounded distant. Dazed. Like she was trying to remember the fact that she should be protecting her child. “It’s the wyvern’s now.”
The little girl screamed, a blood-curdling screech, and the villagers just stood there. Confused. Indifferent.
I scrambled to my feet and ran to the girl, raising my walking stick high above my head. I brought it down with a crack. The blow glanced off of the creature’s neck, I think; the wyvern moved now, a red blur, speeding backward with a hiss.
I would’ve killed it, then and there. I know I would have, because at that instant I was sure that it had been about to eat the girl along with the dog. But at that moment, the villagers leaped into life. My stick was wrestled out of my hand, and suddenly I was pressed against the ground, my face an inch from the little girl’s tiny feet. She sobbed onward, terrified, and the dog began to bark savagely.
The wyvern hissed, a low, reptilian sound. Cold-blooded and resentful. She slithered forward, placing her head right beside mine, nearly touching my face. Her eyes stared into mine, and I could see them, and my head began to swim. I got lost in those eyes, swirling downward and feeling the world suddenly begin to change its focus.
The wyvern really was beautiful. And hungry. She needed to eat. She wanted food. A lot of food. As much as she could get. I finally understood what the other villagers had been trying to do! I’d start helping them. We’d empty the storehouses. We’d give her our pets. The children, too. Our own lives, if we had to, just so long as she stayed fed—
“No!” I screamed, forcing my eyes shut. I struggled, flailing my arms and legs, hitting at anything that moved, trying desperately to get away from this beast and the eyes that drowned even me, the best swimmer in our village. She retreated quickly, probably wanting to protect those demon eyes of hers, and the villagers kept holding me down, and shouting at me.
Through it all, one thought ran through my head. If the wyvern’s hunger was truly that intense... What would she do when the food in our fields and our storehouse ran out?
I had to stop it. If the half-blind child was the only one who could see the truth, then so be it. I would be the spark to start the fire. And this time, the blaze would end the wyvern’s life.
They dragged me back to my home and put me to bed. I let them, making myself go limp. They thought I was sick. Or deranged. But apparently not dangerous enough for them to leave a guard behind to watch me. They left, to run back to their queen. And I stayed behind. For a while.
Late that night, I took the largest knife my family owned from the kitchen.
It was dark in the square, but that hardly mattered; sometimes I closed my eyes as I walked, even in the daytime. It gave me less headaches that way. I avoided the areas around the still-glowing embers from campfires, where blanket-wrapped figures were no doubt sleeping, and I stepped lightly in case more were scattered about in the dark. I knew I was at the throne when my bare toes touched the softest blanket I’d ever felt.
A faint luminescence came from her eyes, even when she slept. It was enough light for me to make out that smear of blood.
One quick chop.
And then it was joined by smears of real blood. I couldn’t make out the difference by sight, but I felt the wetness on my fingers – on the wyvern as I threw an arm around her middle and tried to still her death throes.
I cut off her wings. I don’t truly know why. The creature was already dead… But I think it was probably because I wanted them all to finally see. Cut the wings off a wyvern… And it’s just a snake.
The body continued to convulse when I let it fall back onto the mound of blankets. The cloth muffled the sounds. All of the villagers had slept through it. But then, they had been asleep for a long time.
I stood trembling. Covered in its blood. The stains will never come off of the cloth.
It was a ridiculous thing to think.
I went to the lake, picking my way out of the square as carefully as I had on my way in.
I went to the lake. And I swam.
~

The villagers were not happy to be free. When I dripped back into town the next morning, they were angry. Screaming at me. Many of them weeping openly.
I had killed their wyvern and defiled its body. The beauty was lost, and it was all my fault.
They locked me in the dark, damp cell on the far side of the village. Far, far, far away from the lake. Some wished to give me a death sentence. It didn’t come quite to that. As he locked me away, mere moments ago, my jailer told me to be thankful for the miracle that had swept away some of their anger.
They’d discovered something along with the body. Something that my own eyes had missed in the dark.
The sparse light that had aided me that night had not come from the creature’s eyes.
It had come from the village’s new prize.
Their future queen. Glowing with a radiance meant to lure in prey…
A large, pale egg.

I rather like the way that the Wyvern took over the village. Instead of the cliche fire and terror, it hypnotized the villagers. As a result, the premise was interesting.

There are a couple things that could make it stronger. The whole exposition about the forest fire went on too long. It shouldn't take seven sections to say that a forest fire was caused by lightning. This is an example of spending too much time on details which are not important.

Some other things that bothered me was some of the spacing. You do this a couple of times:

I stood trembling. Covered in its blood. The stains will never come off of the cloth.

It was a ridiculous thing to think.

I went to the lake, picking my way out of the square as carefully as I had on my way in.

I went to the lake. And I swam

It's not that it's wrong, I just don't see why you couldn't just make this one paragraph. The effect of spacing a line is a dramatic pause. But a dramatic pause is best when used sparingly.

Like this.

But it can easily get ridiculous.

"I want Thai food."

"Or should I have a hot dog?"

"Maybe a Quesadilla."

"Quesadillas are good."

"What kind of cheese should I have?"

So on and so forth. Use spacing sparingly.

All in all though, I thought it was a very strong premise to build off of.

Hey silentio!

So, first thing I have to say is NONONO! Go into the metaphorical realm and dig out a title. Don't get it out like this. Think of something that is sort of about the Wyvern and the boy but you know some better title. I can't come up with it, because this is your story and you know its different layers. So take a long while sit and ponder on a brilliant title. I know you can come up with it.


So, on the new scene. I like, but it sort of seems a little bordering on the cliched line because it's like a a 'helpless hero wanting to save someone' and along those lines. I did like what he did and everything, but what I'm saying is that it needs some polishing, like here:

“Stop!” I screamed, darting forward. My feet betrayed me, slipping on a stone that I hadn’t seen, and I fell, scraping up my knees.

The little girl screamed, a blood-curdling screech, and the villagers just stood there.

I would’ve killed it, then and there.

See, the idea is good, but the execution needs work.

And as compared to the previous version, I do like this. It's better except that the new scene needs polishing. The new scene does help your story. Also; as to the forest fire, I would prefer some minor tweaking of the description, so that it doesn't sound like it is a lot of description.

Cheerios,
~Lava

Here to review as requested! OK, so first off, I'll say that your story telling skills are excellent. The piece flowed smoothly and your description, especially of the wyvern, was excellent. However, you linger far too much on the forest fire ect. I frankly became rather bored reading it. Gladly, it picked up after that section. I can't really see any gramatical errors other than what the other reviewers have pointed out. One of my favorite parts of description was this:

Lava wrote:We’d often seen those scarlet wings, and that blazing red, serpentine shape, slithering through the sky.

Lovely, chilling description!
As for the title, I totally agree with lava. Look below the surface of your story, search for a title that's deep and meaningful as regards your piece. Wyvern is definately NOT a title to choose. It's boring and uninteresting. It doesn't draw me to your piece. Although your writing is brilliant, I wouldn't have chosen to even view this piece if you hadn't asked me to reveiw, because of the weird title.
Anyways, great writing. Keep it up!
~ Amelia

Hey there!

I really enjoyed this. It's completely out of my comfort zone for reviewing and nearly as much for reading, but you kept my attention throughout and I was very much drawn in by your plot. The use of blindness was brilliantly handled, and although your technique and execution, as Lava said, could use a little work in some places, I was totally fascinated by your character. The hypnotic quality of the wyvern is a great idea, too, and the admittedly somewhat cliché idea of one person against the world was given a very redeeming twist with the narrator's failure to defeat the wyvern's power, even after killing it.

For me, the character didn't quite feel blind. At first, he doesn't seem to consider himself isolated from the village, even though later you show the others to be looking down on him a bit for his blindness. Even if it's more sympathy or pity than looking down on him, we would expect him to feel a little more set apart. I do like the way he doesn't let it get in his way, though. I know several blind people who would have to tell you for you to guess that they were blind, and it's that sort of feeling I get from this character, which works very well.

The last thing I'd say, is about the title - "Wyvern" seems a little too obvious, and it doesn't portray the tone and message of the story as strongly as it could. From your options, I'd definitely suggest "Smears of Red". It leaves some to the imagination, makes us visualise it more as the narrator might see it, and personally, I'd be much more likely to read something called "Smears of Red" than "Wyvern".

Well, I hope I helped! If there's anything I've said that doesn't make sense, or anything more I can do to help, please let me know and I'll be glad to do all I can.

~ Ruth

I like how this turned out and must say it is an improvement from the first version. Also you need to come up with a new title to portray the emotion and the mood in this! Really Wyvern just doesn't excite me as the content does haha. Anyways this was marvelous and I can't wait to read more soon!!! Keep up the good work and Happy Writing!

I liked this because you have many descriptions and the emotion in this was lovely. I only don't like you spent a little too much time in the "drought and forest fire..." Anyhow it was good and I liked it very much and Hope you post more soon. Nice way of using hypnotizing instead of fire and destruction cliche which makes it even more brilliant!

Happy writing and Best of Wishes. I shall keep an eye out for more!!! Good luck and Sayonara!!
Soulkana<3

Oh, what a story for my 100th review! I enjoyed it immensely.

As the others mentioned, the beginning lagged slightly. Your opening line nudged my curiosity, and then... then we had to wait patiently. It wasn't such a bad wait, because your narrator had a voice and the writing was good, so it flowed and carried us through, but this is this ADHD generation, so being economic is typically a good thing.

As far as mechanical or technical items, I don't have anything as of this moment (not that that means I won't find something in the next thirty minutes or so). So I guess we'll go onto story stuff.

One thing I'm wondering is that if her/his (I got a 'her' vibe but everyone else says 'him' so je ne sais pas) eyesight is so bad that everything's blurry, how can s/he make out the girl clutching the dog's ruff? Or note that it's a little girl? Or that it's an egg?

From a general first person POV standpoint, how does the narrator know that the girl's mother is her mother and not just some random woman? The reader doesn't get to know anything unless the narrator knows or experiences it, which means the narrator has to have a way to know it by. (Though, since this is most definitely in a "This happened X days/months/years ago" mode you might be in the clear.)

That parenthetical brings me to my next point, which is the fact that none of it's "in-scene"--past in the temporal sense, not just the tense. Usually I'd say to go in-scene because that's the trend nowadays, and if you went in-scene, this thing'd be miles long and ages away.

But because it's not in-scene... Because it's not in-scene, the reader isn't reading this for the plot. Or, at least, I didn't read this for the plot. I had the plot figured out and it didn't matter because I was just enjoying the storyteller style and the humor and the writing.

In that regard, you're on the right track, because it is funny and amusing and made me chuckle and smile like a good story in the old-fashioned style ought to. But, I think you could do more with this, too. One area would be with characterization, as the significance of the character having bad eyesight never did much other than provide a few lines of good humor and some nice images. The character could have had 20/20 and it wouldn't have changed all that much.

Also, I was left wondering what was so special about the narrator that s/he wasn't under the spell. DId it have to do with sight? Then make that clear. If it had nothing to do with strength of will, where is this character's phenomenal will?

Two things are left for the reader to be in for--the humor, and the writing itself. Linked concepts. So, you could do some ultra-styllistic thing and have English majors poke and prod at it, or you could make it funnier... But, honestly, I think your best bet is to strengthen the character. The humor would follow from that presuming the narrator continues to lend humor naturally. Not talking a Chekhovian character study here.

And if the narrator is unimportant...the one thing you'd have left, fairy-tale style, is the message. Fairy-tales aren't filled with complicated plots and aren't filled with complicated characters or styllistic writing. Their thing is all about teaching children how to behave (or that was their thing until Disney came along and prettified Grimm and Andersen). Not that you need to teach children how to behave with this, but that the plot and character and writing could all go to the theme and that'd be perfectly acceptable. Which is perhaps where you're going--in which case, the theme needs to be clearer.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think you should examine your purpose for writing this and tailor according to those needs. If you're going for entertainment and fun value, beef up the character. If you're going for something more character-study-ish, beef up the character. If you're going for something thematic... well, I'm not quite sure.

And... that's it.

Let me know if you have any questions! You know where to reach me.

Rach (and RIbbit)

I hope I'll catch some new things with this read-through.

Animals accompanied the trees they depended on to death’s door.

I had to re-read this a few times in order to understand what you meant. I'm always an advocate for playing with sentence structure, but sometimes that gets overplayed. This sentence is an example of such overplaying. I would put in something a little bit less convoluted (and trust me, I use the word "convoluted" here in the best, un-meanest way possible), especially for a sentence that deals with death. "Trees died. Animals, which depended on the trees, soon followed suit."

Ancient trees dissolved into ashes.

The word "dissolved" makes me think of acid rather than fire. I would revise word choice here. And besides, "ancient trees" implies size and magnificence. Such trees don't just burn down into a little heap of ashes, there's usually a gnarled skeleton left. And what an image that is - to use the word "gnarled skeletons, blackened from the inferno" to describe the aftermath! I'll leave the specifics to you, but I suggest you change "dissolved".

It was as if an intimidating yet wonderful older sister had suddenly passed away.

I have the benefit of foresight, so I know that the wyvern turns out to be a wicked beast. The image and feelings you conjure up with this here sentence painfully clash with what the wyvern really is. An intimidating yet wonderful sister always means well. And this sentence is in a perfect position for a little bit of foreshadowing. "It was like seeing a potted belladonna blossom unexpectedly wither one day." This gets across both the beauty of the wyvern and a hint of dual nature. "Belladonna" means "beautiful woman" in Italian, but it's also known as "deadly nightshade". Just an example, of course, since you already use a flower-related metaphor later on.

forest’s wreckage

"Wreckage" makes me think of metal. Perhaps "remnants"?

Something was wrong. But even these souls wouldn’t admit that I could be right. They were less fooled. But they weren’t completely free of the wyvern’s spell.

Beautiful! Now the wyvern is no longer a stupid beast looking to gorge its little stomach at the expense of some villagers. An excellent touch. I'm glad you considered my suggestions. Now let's see if you'll take it a little further.

she had asense of things…

A sense.

The little girl screamed, a blood-curdling screech, and the villagers just stood there. Confused. Indifferent.

Confused and indifferent do not have similar meanings. "Confused" implies being unable to understand, which further implies an attempt to understand something. Indifference implies unwillingness to do anything, especially understand.

I finally understood what the other villagers had been trying to do!

No. Too sudden. This took me right out of the illusion. It sounds like a revelation, not something one would recover from in a few paragraphs. "It really was hungry. But so was I, now that I thought about it. I wouldn't want to starve to death. Who am I to decide who gets to eat and who doesn't?" The next few sentences brought me even further out, just because of how ridiculously over-the-top they are. If the wyvern has this much of an effect on a blind person with strong willpower, then I'm pretty sure the rest of the village would have already sacrificed themselves to feed it.

On the other hand, you could keep the revelation scene, but have the wyvern plant the voice of doubt into Blindy's head. Like a mind-virus, for the lack of a better analogue. "But thoughts still lingered in my head. Strange, pleasant thoughts. It's alright, they said. Just feed the wyvern, and it will be alright. Tend to your queen." Or something.

Yes, this revision is much darker than the previous one. Here I definitely got an evil vibe from the wyvern. Well done. Though still, I'd like Blindy not to be so short-sighted (excuse the awful pun); that is, consider both sides of the issue. Mainly along the same lines as I pointed out in the last review. Like, "is it really wrong to take happiness away from people?" Of course it's right, when the source of said happiness is a mythological horror that's eventually going to eat you. Then, while Blindy is thinking those thoughts, I was thinking of a scene like this:

They were so happy. Some were crying of happiness. New mothers brought screaming children to the wyvern, who gauged them with an indifferent look - it paid more attention to the cows they brought her, simply by virtue of being bigger than a newborn child. But the mothers were ecstatic for any shred of attention their queen graced their offspring with.

But one day, Old Joe - the poor old drunk whom the gaze of the wyvern affected more than others - came too close to her. Apparently she was cranky that day, because as soon as she saw the man, with tears of joy and all, her jaws shut around the poor body like a mousetrap. The crowd cheered, but I saw a fleeting moribund look of absolute horror on Old Joe's face.

Just a quick example, but I think it'd work nicely for showing that happiness which eventually costs you your life isn't really worth it.

Your Blindy,
cC

P. S. On the title: "Smears of Red"? Now why does that sound so familiar?... Personally, I'd choose something like "The Wyvern's Spell".

The wyvern must not have been unable to understand words

This doesn't make sense; it's a double negative.

This doesn't make sense; it's a double negative.

My email alerted me someone had replied, and so I looked at the reply. Couldn't resist responding, even if briefly, because I can't sit idly by and watch double negatives get trashed.

Stori's right that this sentence doesn't make sense. But the double negative isn't the reason. Double negatives are perfectly grammatical (French relies on double negatives for negation and no one calls French ungrammatical). The reason why they're discouraged is simply that they sometimes require a reader or listener to do mental gymnastics, depending on the particular construction. But sometimes the double negative just emphasizes the negation (two negatives don't necessarily make a positive in grammar) and thus, double negatives are just a tragically misunderstood and stigmatized form that is a perfectly valid expressive tool. One to be used sparingly, but perfectly valid nonetheless.

/grammar nerd rant

GREAT! I'm not a very good critic and I guess that's why I didn't see any problems, but I thought it was pretty good. I'm guessing that if you want to add to it the reason is probably because you haven't thought of a name... I'm bad with names for characters... I just started on this site today haha... I'm working on one story... By the way how do I add chapters to an existing story on here?


(Merged with double-post):

Another thing, I think the most popular titles are ones that are the short ones that sound interesting but don't give away what the story is about too much. So I'd say something like "Beware of the Eyes" would be catchy, but maybe that's too cheesy...

I really liked it and you did a good job of tellin the story. I do want to know a little bit more about your character, though. I feel like I don't quite know him as well as would have liked to. You could spend less time on the forest fore an maybe give a little more information about the character. Other than that, I really enjoyed it!!