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Young Writers Society


Bach's Lullaby--Ch. 1



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Points: 906
Reviews: 4
Sat Oct 01, 2011 11:53 pm
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Trigger says...



Spoiler! :
I know, I know--I keep editing the story and I'm sorry. BUT, this is probably the final edit--unless I find a few minor mistakes. But basically, this is IT.


1.


I was nothing but a lifeless doll.

Who was I to say I had feelings? Who was I to call myself human? But when he found me, he made me realize I am someone. He made me realize that I am human. And as much as I wished I had a normal friend, a ringmaster was just as perfect.

Jean is a charmer; a handsome man with a slightly square jaw and ever so vivid blue eyes that your legs would buckle and your heartbeat would never stay a pace so steady. His silky hair was gelled back, though some strands of brown hung over his forehead. He was a to-die-for man. His gorgeousness was exceedingly breathtaking, but only a trap—a trap to disappointment. Many women would fall for him and ask him on a date, but he would wave them off like flies. But with me, he always kept me close.

***


I was eleven, sitting in the dark alley eating nothing but scraps Chef O’Flere threw to me behind his restaurant. My mother had abandoned me, and my father had died of a heart attack. I had no story, I had no life. Then one day, as I picked the bone of a chicken leg, the sound of heels knocking the cobblestone at a patient pace startled me and caused me to drop it. No one has ever walked the alley so patiently—humming.

I pressed close against the wall next to the restaurants back door, hugging my legs tight to my chest. The lamp that hung loosely on the brick wall above spilled a flickering fluorescent yellow—making it a little hard to be seen. Someone could’ve easily mistaken me for a tiny garbage bag.

The hummer walked closer and closer—I shut my eyes and pressed my forehead on my knees, trying to make myself invisible. The walking finally stopped in front of me, but the humming took a second to finish.

“My, my,” said the hummer, which was a man. I slowly looked up caught myself drowning in awe from his deep blue eyes. He wore a ringmaster outfit—even the tall black hat. A ringmaster? Here? In this alley where no one bothers to wander? The man looked around, and then smiled wide at me.

“My, my,” he repeated, in a whispering awe. “You my darling, look lost. You look absolutely lost. Has your mum left you at the doorstep of a stranger?”

The words were stuck in my throat. Mother left me in the streets when I was six—but it was too hard for me to explain, so all I did was nod.

The ringmaster bent over and offered his hand. “Well forgive me for not opening the door right away.”


***


I never forgot that day—the day that man found me. The moment I touched his hand, he gave me life. That man. The one they call, Jean Flaur De Vaux.

I opened my eyes, and before me stood millions of people clapping and screaming. I stood perfectly still on my stance, waiting for the audience to quiet down. The music began to play; it was a slow melody played by violins. The notes were long and soft—almost like a lullaby. It must’ve been one of Johann Sebastian Bach’s pieces—he was one of Jean’s favorite composers.

I began to dance, moving gracefully across the stage, twirling on my toes. The outfit Jean made me wear was uncomfortable and itchy—I had no taste in tutus, but he said it was eye catching so…why not give what the public wants?

The song ended and I did a deep bow as my bird, Cato landed on my shoulder. The Goffin cockatoo ducked his head many times to bow. I wanted to laugh, but to look perfect for the audience, laughing was out of the question—so I kept my face as straight as I could, staring past the audience as they screamed their hearts out.

I left the stage and a few other performers brushed passed me and went to perform. The audience wasn’t as loud to them as they were to me. I found myself grinning and sat in front of the vanity desk, looking at the makeup that coated my face as Cato wandered off.

Two warm hands landed on my shoulders, and I sighed with relief. The mirror revealed Jean's wicked (or triumphant) smile.

“My, my,” he whispered in awe. “What a lovely performance--what a star you are. Well done, Nella. Well done!"

I smiled at myself. I know.
Last edited by Trigger on Thu Dec 29, 2011 8:42 am, edited 19 times in total.
Riddle me this, Riddle me that, who is afraid of the big black bat?

-Riddler
  





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22 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 1014
Reviews: 22
Sun Oct 02, 2011 1:03 am
samii27 says...



Fantastic! Very engaging for your readers and easy to follow. There was only one mistake I could make out:
Trigger wrote:
1.
“Before you get comfy is this house, I must introduce myself—”
I think you were possibly supposed to say IN this house, instead of IS this house.
You have used great language and have written very well in this first chapter of your novel. I loved the feelings created by the writing and how once started, I couldn't stop reading. If this became a published novel I am sure I would read it!
I absolutly loved this first chapter and cant wait to see what avdenture Nella is about to find herself upon. Keep writing, I know I am not the only one waiting eagerly for your next chapter. BRING ON CHAPTER TWO!
Samantha
  





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Gender: Female
Points: 805
Reviews: 336
Sun Oct 02, 2011 1:03 am
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Jas says...



Hey,

First off, welcome to YWS!

This is really good. Wow. I was a bit surprised at how much I liked this. You have a very good voice, a smooth way of writing and this reads very easily. You also have great metaphors and imagery and description which all silkily transition in with actions and dialogue.

Trigger wrote: I was nothing but a lifeless doll.


Excellent first line, but I think, to make it more powerful, make it its own paragraph. Like, separate it from 'Who was I to say I had feelings?' and the rest of that, so it's by itself and we can really emphasize on it.

Trigger wrote: Jean is a charmer; a handsome man with a slightly square jaw and ever so vivid blue eyes that *would make* your legs would buckle and your heart’s beat would never stay a pace so steady.


A bit of an awkward sentence with phrasing and tenses. Hm, I'm not sure how I feel about you describing Jean so up-frontly instead of weaving it into the narration but it's okay for now.

Trigger wrote: His ability of gorgeousness


That's not really proper to say. Being gorgeous isn't a talent or a skill, it's not something that is gained through hard work, it's something that's given before birth, so saying 'his ability of gorgeousness' doesn't make much sense.

Trigger wrote:hugging my legs tight to my breasts


You say she's eleven, but she has breasts? When I was eleven, I was as flat as a piece of paper, so this too doesn't make much sense unless she's over-developed. If that's the case, then you should mention it, because when I think of eleven year olds with boobs, all I see is really obese girls. Maybe say chest instead? It certainly fits better.

Trigger wrote:Has your mum left you at the doorstep of a stranger?”

“Well forgive me for not opening the door right away.”


I love that. What a brilliant line.

Trigger wrote:Have my ears been stuffed with blood


Kind of a weird thing to say. o.0

Trigger wrote:Suddenly, what grabbed me was—“I am truly sorry.”


The ending was a little abrupt and also doesn't make much sense. She already decided that she would stay with Jean, so what would him saying 'I'm truly sorry' do and why is that significant?
~*~

Characters:

Nella doesn't seem like the brightest bulb in the shed to me. I mean, a man who she doesn't know has invited her back to his house and told her that if she works for him, he'll pay her? Sounds like something a pimp would tell a future-prostitute to be honest. Of course, she's homeless and lost her family and eats leftover garbage and lives in an alley, so maybe she's really up for anything. I like how you've already made her 3-dimensional to me and made me care whether or not she's about to get date-raped by this creepy circus man. I feel for her and that's a great thing to make your readers do.

Jean sounds pretty freaking creepy to be honest. Why the hell would he ask some random little girl to LIVE WITH HIM if he wasn't a pedophile of some sort? Plus, the way that Nella described him in the I suppose prologue thing seems a little more than daughterly. Eh, I'll find out whether he's a creepster later on in the story I guess.

Plot:

You've got a couple of holes but I've got most of them up there. There was one thing that bothered me; how we don't know the time period. In modern times, Nella would be living in a relative's home or foster care or at least an orphanage, not in the back alley of a restaurant among rats and the like. Please make some mention of the time period or at least put this in historical fiction forum so we know that it isn't Social Services fault that Nella is homeless.

Also: The guy that owns the restaurant, why doesn't he let Nella at least sit in the back of the kitchen or something where it's warm, rather than in tattery ripped clothing in the cold outside. Kind of seems like a heartless jerk to me.

~*~

Overall, really great job. This was a little short but I really liked it! PM me or write on my wall when you post the upcoming chapters. :]

PM me with any questions or comments.

Grade: A-

~Jas
I am nothing
but a mouthful of 'sorry's, half-hearted
apologies that roll of my tongue, smoothquick, like 'r's
or maybe like pocket candy
that's just a bit too sweet.

~*~
  





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Fri Oct 28, 2011 1:18 am
bulletthru101 says...



i like it. very good details about different things. keep working on it. dont give up.
~think it. dream it. do it.~
  








Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
— Carl Sandburg