The Wordsmith's Wake

Chapter One - A Gaze, By Chance

Blank.

That was all I could see. A blank page.

Outside, the church bells were already ringing. I should be heading back inside, to serve my masters and the monks, and to prepare for the banquet tonight, in celebration for the good harvest this season. The cold air in the tower room was biting. I could see my breath escaping in soft white puffs in front of me as I tried to warm up my hands. My head was numb. The bells cried out to the skies of the white morning one last time, scattering black birds across clouds of fog and smoke in the ashen city below.

The hands of the clock ticked by in time with the beating of my heart. The paintings on the walls above my head stared at me reproachfully, like a priest would to a confessing sinner.

I was caught, guilty.

I should get going.

But I couldn't peel my eyes off of the page in front of her, of the pencil shaking in her hand, the hesitation in her posture. Her chest rose and fell in uncertain interludes, as if she was hesitating to even breathe. I held my breath, too, anticipating the new work of art that would soon make itself visible on that miserable snowy sheet. It was magical, as if there was already an image there and she was only scraping away the whiteness in order to reveal the marvels beneath it.
I sighed, completely mesmerized, still looking on.

Until.

Her gaze fell on me; those jade eyes, wide with fear. Those subtle, frosted pink lips, parted in a shuddering gasp. The pencil rolled to the floor as she stood, both hands pressed flat onto the table. Her palms made impressions on the paper, damp with sweat.

I certainly made an impression on her, too.

I tried to scramble off the scaffolding I was perched on, but, certain that any more stirring would certainly make me end up a splattered mess of blood and broken bones on the marble floor, I sat still. Clinging to the thick wood, on my stomach, positioned like a pig being prepared for roast.

That's exactly what I'll end up to be if I didn't run off right now.

But I stayed, equally as startled as she was, breathing hard. What a sight I might have looked to her. Shabby garments barely able to fully clothe a thin frame. Mousy, tousled hair. Dark eyes. Deep and rich, like chocolate. They were the only thing that I liked about myself - my eyes.

They were my mother's.

I saw her draw my mother, once. When she was still with me.

She knows something, I was sure of it.

I felt tears prick the edges of my eyes as anxiety continued to gnaw away at my stomach. My bare feet and hands struggled to hold on to the wood, my lifesaver. I tried to steady my heart, steady the flow of air into my lungs, all thoughts of the monks' scolding and the banquet, forgotten.

To my great surprise, she smiled.

"Finally, I can see you."

It was my turn to be doe-eyed.

She picked up the pencil, placed it back on the table, beckoned to me.

Come here, child. Her expression said, timid but warm. I felt my cheeks flush in delight.

Come here.

I shuffled my way down and ran to her.

Hello there Rose!

I'm Yuri and shall be your reviewer for today. ^^

First of all, it was your title that attracted my attention to read this. Needless to say, I like it. 8D You have a good introductory part too.

Your story is well written but you haven't showed us enough information about your character. He seems to narrate everything he sees, especially about the woman. He describes her but he focus less about himself, his importance in the story. However, I'm not saying that you should gather informations all about him and plunge them in one paragraph. No. Perhaps, introduce him well to your readers. Let him out-stand more. ^^

Grammar wise, I don't really have any negative things to say because I notice that you have a strong prose. Punctuation, verb consistency and spellings are all good. Sometimes though, you tend to use adjectives a lot. I tell you, nouns and verbs are much better, just so don't overdo it. ;D

Talking about more of the story, there isn't quite a conflict here. I tend to see chapters as "substories" of a novel. The only main event that happened here was when the character noticed the woman he adored... something like that. But still, there aren't any striking actions here. It's not about the length, just what is in the chapter.

Overall, I like this. Let me know if you have any questions.

Keep writing,
Yuri

My. Where to start?

I'll go with the usual - by picking apart your first few sentences. But tell me, is a blank page the best hook you can come up with? That's inexcusable. Get rid of your beginning and start anew; this time, start with a better hook that actually holds conflict.

But your beginning isn't the only thing that lacks conflict. The entire piece lacks conflict. It's nothing but a scene. This certainly isn't a chapter, much less a short story with an actual ending. To my disappointment, you make up for the lack of conflict with brazen dramatics.

One particular instance stood out so clearly I can't help but quote it here.

Until.

Allow me a few moments to recover from my laughing fit. Are you serious? That attempt at suspense was so contrived it mutated into something comedic.

Your prose itself is clunky and all over the place. You might find yourself having no need for gimmicks if you simply cleaned it up. Start by curing yourself of your incessant need to use multiple adjectives for a single noun. It clutters your prose and does nothing for you as a writer. Your reader will appreciate it if you demonstrated some skill with the use of some imagery. Second, search and destroy all your pleonasms. An abundance of pleonasms are festering in this piece, and it's poisoning your prose.

Your prose alone, however, won't save this narrative. You'll have to paste some sort of voice into your main character as well. I'll give you some credit, because you managed to characterize your main character to an extent, but what you fail to realize is that in a first person point-of-view story, voice is everything. Your character's personality must seep into the narration as much as your personality leaks into your conversations. Your character's personality is useless if you don't give him voice.

Also, as it stands, your character is quite unremarkable. Add something to him, before the reader decides to throw this story aside in favor of a story with a more interesting protagonist.

Oh, and before I forget: check your tenses. You shifted tenses numerous times throughout this piece, and it was jarring.

I'll lock this thread first until I can finally butcher it alive. Serious revising! X3