Under the Lights

Hero’s pulse galloped in her throat as she handed her ticket to the prom to a parent waiting outside of the ballroom. She hastily checked the faces of every adult sitting in the row behind the tables, trying to spot anyone who might recognize her. Seeing no one, but still anxious, she ducked her head down as she walked swiftly past the streamer-filled entryway and toward the ballroom.
She felt the music before she heard it. The bass reverberated through the floor, sending mini-shockwaves up the heels of her shoes and resting in her wobbling ankles. She entered the dance, a wall of sound hit her. Talking no longer existed as a form of communication: only shouting and the sensual moving of bodies were understood in the “orgy” her parents refused to let her attend. However, with the Japanese lanterns and twinkle-lights suspended from the ceiling, Hero didn’t see an orgy at all. Sure, excitement pounded through every hormonally charged teens in the room, but the thrill of moving so close to someone else drowned out every other thought. Hero could sense it seeping into her, empowering her to be bold, because on a night meant for romance, she didn’t need to answer to anyone.
Across the ballroom, she saw her friend Spencer sitting at a table to the side of the dance floor, his face half-hidden in the darkness. Spencer was the school’s vocal champion, but even though he had a voice of passion, his charms went mostly unused. He spent most of his dances reclining, pretending that none of the girls interested him, but from their whispered conversations in the back of their shared World History class, Hero had learned how he was afraid of being overlooked. Unbeknownst to him, she never overlooked him, and she had risked eternal damnation from her parents to prove that to him on this one night. For a moment, she wanted to rush over to him and ask him to dance, but she stopped herself. You’ve made it this far, pushing the limits, doing things no one thought you could. Keep it up. Hero pushed her shoulders back, tossing her long brown curls over them while staring intently on her target. Breathing deeply, she took a confident step forward and strutted across the ballroom, letting her hips reach their full range of motion with each sassy step.
The DJ switched to a slower tune, and people started to drain from the floor, taking the chance to get some water. She started to walk a little faster, hoping to get to Spencer before some of his cooler friends sat down with him. Wait, no! What does it matter if they are there? Though her pulse quickened as some of the other choir jocks and their dates turned his way, it was nothing like the reaction when he looked up and saw her coming at him. His eyes opened wide, as if to try to absorb more of her in a floor-length, deep v-neck, wine-colored dress that clung to her slender form in all the right places.
“Hero?” Spencer stood up to greet her. “You look amazing!”
“Thanks. You clean up nicely yourself.”
“Wait, how are you here? I thought your parents weren’t going to let you come.”
“That didn’t keep me from borrowing a dress, sneaking out the window and driving here once they fell asleep.”
“You little rebel,” Spencer smiled, studying her body. Hero’s first response was to feel uncomfortable, but she reminded herself that she put so much effort into image that night in order to be looked at, so she stuck out her chest a little more and smiled in what she hoped was an alluring way.
“I didn’t come just to stand here all night. Dance with me?” Hero was shocked by her audacity, but the smooth music and low lights cast “shy” and “reserved” from her persona. Spencer looked momentarily stunned, but the shocked lifted to a charming smile as he reached out his hand and lead her to the dance floor.
Hero’s heart raced as he placed a hand on her bare back and began to lead her through the slow song. She had always thought his cologne smelled nice from a distance, but in such close proximity, it was nearly intoxicating. Trying not to lose her cool, she took a deep breath, only to find the effects of the scent magnified with an open mouth.
“Having fun?” she asked, wanting to kick herself for her voice quavering.
“More so now than before,” Spencer said, smiling down at her. “You look so amazing. I can’t believe you did this, but I’m glad that you did.”
“Yeah?” Hero was sweating now. She felt it bead on her neck from the heat in the room, which seemed to be rising. She looked around. Scattered around the edges of the dance floor were her friends and his friends, some looking slightly puzzled at their pairing, and some too concerned with their own dates to pay any attention. You look great. You deserve this. This is worth the risk. The constant mental narrative made it difficult to focus on the twinkle lights and how Spencer sang bits of the song in her ear. Her parents were so protective of her that she did not know the song or the artist, but her heart beat like hummingbird wings when she felt his breath against her ear. Every few moments, reality would break through the darkness and Hero would marvel that Spencer was dancing with her at all, and that so much of her flesh was showing in the dress, but before she knew it, the song was over. She was still pressed up against him, and he did not let her go.
“Let me have another dance?” he asked, as the pounding music started back and people started to crowd the dance floor again.
“Sure,” Hero answered, feeling uncomfortably warm as he slid behind her and put his hands on her thighs. People started cheering, and strobe lights started flashing, illuminating the students grinding in an array of positions.
Oh my gosh, this is an orgy, Hero thought, scarred by a couple in front of her getting lower to the floor as his hands pulled his date’s dress higher. She closed her eyes to try to seal out the scene unfolding in front of her, but the image was glued in her mind. The bright lights flashed red behind her eyelids, the pounding music transforming into a synchronized pounding headache.
“Hero, are you ok?”
She barely noticed that she had stopped moving in time with the music, but her legs were jerking of their own accord. They spazzed in ways that were almost rhythmic, but the heat was overbearing, so Hero opened her mouth to say that maybe she needed a break. She felt sweat roll down her upper lip, but she couldn’t make her voice work. Blind, mute, shaking, and sweating, she fell limp in Spencer’s grasp. She didn’t see the fear in his face as she sunk to the floor, or hear the yells of the dancers, or even notice her own perfectionistic mental narrative as she convulsed on the floor. Her world was consumed by the flashing lights.


Note: this piece was an exercise focused on the importance of setting in a character's mood. Any critiques regarding that device specifically would be especially helpful, but as this is a rough draft, all comments are much appreciated Thank you!

That was pretty good scene-building. Some chopinessnessnessnissity lurking around the otherwise quite functional descriptions, but you'll get them on the first or fifth edit (I almost always get them by the seventh, heh)
The only things concentwise that come to mind are :
the need to add a 2-3 more names+descriptions of present classmates loved, hated and just existing;
to add some spell-out bits about adults taking tickets and ankles wobbling ('cause they only work if one does unconscious deduction on the way, if not - they remain dud sentences with the brain supplying whatever comes first, for example that she'd already had a bit to drink, or as celullite ankles, not necesserily that she's nexperienced with high heels. Baby talk the reader sometimes, just never let him notice he's been baby-talked to, keep him thinking he just magically knows stuff );
how 'bout her reacting to the cologne +his real scent, not the cologne alone?
Jh

elephantwalrus wrote:Hero’s pulse galloped in her throat as she handed her ticket to the prom to a parent waiting outside of the ballroom. She hastily checked the faces of every adult sitting in the row behind the tables, trying to spot anyone who might recognize her. Seeing no one, but still anxious, she ducked her head down as she walked swiftly past the streamer-filled entryway and toward the ballroom.
She felt the music before she heard it. The bass reverberated through the floor, sending mini-shockwaves up the heels of her shoes and resting in her wobbling ankles. She entered the dance, a wall of sound hit her. Talking no longer existed as a form of communication: only shouting and the sensual moving of bodies were understood in the “orgy” her parents refused to let her attend. However, with the Japanese lanterns and twinkle-lights suspended from the ceiling, Hero didn’t see an orgy at all. Sure, excitement pounded through every hormonally charged teens in the room, but the thrill of moving so close to someone else drowned out every other thought. Hero could sense it seeping into her, empowering her to be bold, because on a night meant for romance, she didn’t need to answer to anyone.
Across the ballroom, she saw her friend Spencer sitting at a table to the side of the dance floor, his face half-hidden in the darkness. Spencer was the school’s vocal champion, but even though he had a voice of passion, his charms went mostly unused. He spent most of his dances reclining, pretending that none of the girls interested him, but from their whispered conversations in the back of their shared World History class, Hero had learned how he was afraid of being overlooked. Unbeknownst to him, she never overlooked him, and she had risked eternal damnation from her parents to prove that to him on this one night. For a moment, she wanted to rush over to him and ask him to dance, but she stopped herself. You’ve made it this far, pushing the limits, doing things no one thought you could. Keep it up. Hero pushed her shoulders back, tossing her long brown curls over them while staring intently on her target. Breathing deeply, she took a confident step forward and strutted across the ballroom, letting her hips reach their full range of motion with each sassy step.
The DJ switched to a slower tune, and people started to drain from the floor, taking the chance to get some water. She started to walk a little faster, hoping to get to Spencer before some of his cooler friends sat down with him. Wait, no! What does it matter if they are there? Though her pulse quickened as some of the other choir jocks and their dates turned his way, it was nothing like the reaction when he looked up and saw her coming at him. His eyes opened wide, as if to try to absorb more of her in a floor-length, deep v-neck, wine-colored dress that clung to her slender form in all the right places.
“Hero?” Spencer stood up to greet her. “You look amazing!”
“Thanks. You clean up nicely yourself.”
“Wait, how are you here? I thought your parents weren’t going to let you come.”
“That didn’t keep me from borrowing a dress, sneaking out the window and driving here once they fell asleep.”
“You little rebel,” Spencer smiled, studying her body. Hero’s first response was to feel uncomfortable, but she reminded herself that she put so much effort into image that night in order to be looked at, so she stuck out her chest a little more and smiled in what she hoped was an alluring way.
“I didn’t come just to stand here all night. Dance with me?” Hero was shocked by her audacity, but the smooth music and low lights cast “shy” and “reserved” from her persona. Spencer looked momentarily stunned, but the shocked lifted to a charming smile as he reached out his hand and lead her to the dance floor.
Hero’s heart raced as he placed a hand on her bare back and began to lead her through the slow song. She had always thought his cologne smelled nice from a distance, but in such close proximity, it was nearly intoxicating. Trying not to lose her cool, she took a deep breath, only to find the effects of the scent magnified with an open mouth.
“Having fun?” she asked, wanting to kick herself for her voice quavering.
“More so now than before,” Spencer said, smiling down at her. “You look so amazing. I can’t believe you did this, but I’m glad that you did.”
“Yeah?” Hero was sweating now. She felt it bead on her neck from the heat in the room, which seemed to be rising. She looked around. Scattered around the edges of the dance floor were her friends and his friends, some looking slightly puzzled at their pairing, and some too concerned with their own dates to pay any attention. You look great. You deserve this. This is worth the risk. The constant mental narrative made it difficult to focus on the twinkle lights and how Spencer sang bits of the song in her ear. Her parents were so protective of her that she did not know the song or the artist, but her heart beat like hummingbird wings when she felt his breath against her ear. Every few moments, reality would break through the darkness and Hero would marvel that Spencer was dancing with her at all, and that so much of her flesh was showing in the dress, but before she knew it, the song was over. She was still pressed up against him, and he did not let her go.
“Let me have another dance?” he asked, as the pounding music started back and people started to crowd the dance floor again.
“Sure,” Hero answered, feeling uncomfortably warm as he slid behind her and put his hands on her thighs. People started cheering, and strobe lights started flashing, illuminating the students grinding in an array of positions.
Oh my gosh, this is an orgy, Hero thought, scarred by a couple in front of her getting lower to the floor as his hands pulled his date’s dress higher. She closed her eyes to try to seal out the scene unfolding in front of her, but the image was glued in her mind. The bright lights flashed red behind her eyelids, the pounding music transforming into a synchronized pounding headache.
“Hero, are you ok?”
She barely noticed that she had stopped moving in time with the music, but her legs were jerking of their own accord. They spazzed in ways that were almost rhythmic, but the heat was overbearing, so Hero opened her mouth to say that maybe she needed a break. She felt sweat roll down her upper lip, but she couldn’t make her voice work. Blind, mute, shaking, and sweating, she fell limp in Spencer’s grasp. She didn’t see the fear in his face as she sunk to the floor, or hear the yells of the dancers, or even notice her own perfectionistic mental narrative as she convulsed on the floor. Her world was consumed by the flashing lights.


Note: this piece was an exercise focused on the importance of setting in a character's mood. Any critiques regarding that device specifically would be especially helpful, but as this is a rough draft, all comments are much appreciated Thank you!

i completely agree with ryanke07

ryanke07 wrote:Hey,
I'm going to jump right into it.

Hero’s pulse galloped in her throat #BF0000 ">(I'm confused by this...) as she handed her ticket to the prom #BF0000 ">(change to "prom ticket")to a parent waiting outside of the ballroom. She hastily #BF0000 ">(seems unnecessary) checked the faces of every adult sitting in the row behind the tables, trying to spot anyone who might recognize her. Seeing no one, but still anxious, she ducked her head down as she walked swiftly #BF0000 ">(again, seems implied by what came before it) past the streamer-filled entryway and toward the ballroom.

She felt the music before she heard it. #BF0000 ">(great line!) The bass reverberated through the floor, sending mini-shockwaves up the heels of her shoes and resting in her wobbling ankles. She entered the dance, a wall of sound hit her. Talking no longer existed as a form of communication (#BF0000 ">could be condensed): only shouting and the sensual moving of bodies were understood #BF0000 ">(active voice seems better here) in the “orgy” her parents refused to let her attend. However, with the Japanese lanterns and twinkle-lights #BF0000 ">(great word, fits the mood) suspended from the ceiling, Hero didn’t see an orgy at all. #BF0000 ">(This sentence was a tad confusing, the description didn't seem to fit) Sure, excitement pounded through every hormonally charged teens #BF0000 ">(teen)in the room, but the thrill of moving so close to someone else drowned out every other thought. Hero could sense it seeping into her, empowering her to be bold (redundant), because on a night meant for romance, she didn’t need to answer to anyone.

I don't have time to review the rest (sorry!), but I'll say a few words quick. The story is off to a good start; I was genuinely engaged. Some minor editing will take care of wordiness issues and such.

As far as "the setting determining the character's mood", I have to admit I'm a bit confused. Not by the story, which I think does a fine job both creating a setting and showing how it affects the characters mood, but more so by the prompt itself. From a reader's perspective, I expect descriptions of the setting and descriptions of the mood. Given those, I can make my own assumptions as to how the setting is affecting the character's mood. From a writer's perspective, I think one will determine the other. Either I will think of a setting first and place a character in that setting who fits in well, or I will imagine a character and their moods and I will place them in a setting that fits those moods. I don't place a character in a setting and then say, "how is the setting affecting their mood?"

I think I'm doing a poor job of putting my confusion into words but so be it.

Anyway, keep up the good work. This draft shows a lot of promise!

and even Jherek

Jherek wrote:That was pretty good scene-building. Some chopinessnessnessnissity lurking around the otherwise quite functional descriptions, but you'll get them on the first or fifth edit (I almost always get them by the seventh, heh)
The only things concentwise that come to mind are :
the need to add a 2-3 more names+descriptions of present classmates loved, hated and just existing;
to add some spell-out bits about adults taking tickets and ankles wobbling ('cause they only work if one does unconscious deduction on the way, if not - they remain dud sentences with the brain supplying whatever comes first, for example that she'd already had a bit to drink, or as celullite ankles, not necesserily that she's nexperienced with high heels. Baby talk the reader sometimes, just never let him notice he's been baby-talked to, keep him thinking he just magically knows stuff );
how 'bout her reacting to the cologne +his real scent, not the cologne alone?
Jh

keep on the good work !