The Truth Behind the Haunting of Bramble House.

Hey guys, I wrote this for an English assesment a couple of months ago. I hope you enjoy it and any feedback would be appreciated. XXX

A spider crawled up Molly’s spine as she made her way out into the bitter, neglected garden. Mothering her teddy bear, she tiptoed like a ballerina, over to the black hole. The sky was murky and hung above Molly threateningly. She felt the first drop of dread fall onto her forehead and drip off her small, innocent nose. She didn’t want to get caught in the oncoming torrent.
BANG! Like a rabbit caught in the headlight, Molly let the bucket in her hands slip, through her cold, stony fingers. She heard it splash into the freezing depths far below. She clutched at her teddy bear desperately, she squeezed its scratchy fur beneath her rock fingers, searching for the comfort that wasn’t there. Crisp air dominated her delicate lungs, her throat dried up, shattering her breath into razor sharp shards.
“Molly!” two blood curdling voices jeered in unison. A mirror of a mocking face loomed over her body of a ragdoll.
“Look what ya’ve done, Father’ll be furious!” one of the voices told her pulling a scornful face in hers. Tombstone teeth grinned tauntingly, breathing stale breath over her.
“Yeah, he’ll be real’ angry!” the other hissed.
Molly’s heart plunged. She gazed up at the twisted arrogant faces of her brothers, Jack and Joe. Echo’s of centuries reverberated around her. The tangle of the garden framed their faces, the finishing touch to a menacing work of art. A flip book of memories flashed across her mind. Fathers face wild and raging above her, nostrils flared, pawing the ground ready to charge…
Suddenly the screeching of the wind whirled around her, ripping through the garden, exposing every secret and forgotten memory. The trees wailed in protest, thrashing wildly, trying to beat off the attack. The battering ram struck the sky, right at the weakest point.
Molly frantically scampered through the battle, in a desperate attempt to reclaim her innocence. Robotic hands seized her, snatching her off the stable ground. Petrified, she slowly turned her head. Heartless eyes stared like lasers ahead, something sharp and emotionless was stuck in them, and they were glazed and not seeing. She kicked and screamed with all her strength.
“MAMA!” she cried, only to listen to her voice disappear into the shadows. Molly’s dainty legs struggled, but the more she resisted the stronger the restraint became. Her long dress bound her legs into a useless bundle. Feeling her chances desert her she clawed at Jack’s pale face. Her nails tore across his vulnerable, human flesh, crimson blood dripped onto her white dress, and he didn’t even flinch.
“MAMA!” her voice could have been the insignificant rustle of a leaf. The boys hoisted her over the well, as easily as they would if lifting a feather.
“MAMA!” Molly shrieked despairing.
She could smell it beneath her, damp and cold. Her stomach lurched, and then the boys made their wish and tossed the penny down the well. The moonlight reflected off it one last time as it tumbled, and then it was swallowed by darkness, never to see the light again.
The scream that the neighbours, heard that night was neither human nor animal. It was a scream of pure terror, the scream of death. Jack and Joe Johnson were found unconscious by the well, with no recollection whatsoever, of the night they ignorantly murdered their sister. The Johnson family never told anybody the truth about Molly. It wasn’t until many, many years later when Mrs. Johnsons’ diary was found under a floorboard, that the truth was revealed. Today at Bramble House Molly leaves the well every night, in a desperate attempt to reclaim her innocence.

Hey there, Hawk here for a review!

Okay, so I have to admit that I'm very confused by this story. There were so many descriptions that I couldn't tell just exactly what Molly is -- human? Penny? Creature? I couldn't differentiate between any literal descriptions and any metaphorical ones. From the first paragraph, I thought she was a little girl; then I reached the bit about the "cold, stony fingers" which are also referred to as "rock fingers" -- does this mean she's actually made of stone? Or are you using this word to explain that her hands are as stiff and hard as a rock? And then, moving on, you say "her body of a ragdoll". Again, this could be taken two ways: literally (she is a doll) or metaphorically (she's as limp as a doll). And to be honest, I'm not quite sure which one it is. Normally I'd think you're talking about this all metaphorically and they're just examples. But then you go on and describe her father as "pawing the ground, ready to charge" which brings to mind a bull or some other such creature. You talk about a robotic arm, which I assume belongs to one of her brother's, and then proceed to describe how she claws Jack's face, which is clearly human.

I guess my main point with all of these examples is that I'm not sure what sort of a story you've got here; is it a ghost story where all sorts of horrific creatures can and do exist? Or is it a "real" story, with a lot of varied and unusual descriptions being used for the human characters?

You also give some background, but not enough to really clue the reader into what's going on and why things are happening now; why did her brothers throw her into the well? How are the brothers ignorant that they killed their sister?What was in the journal the mom wrote? Why does Molly still haunt the place?

Overall, I think you captured the atmosphere and terror really well; it's just the confusion that makes the story start to come apart. I think you would benefit greatly if you add some more clarity to the tale, maybe give a few more explanations so we know why things are happening, instead of just seeing them transpire for a moment. Give us a little more to connect to.

Okay, so that's it! Please PM me if you've got any questions or whatnot. Cheers! (:

Hi!
I love the description and the showing you have displayed that make it a pleasure to read.
Although I found myself getting confused as to what was happening. Is she human or not? ect. Sometimes you have to abandon a bit of imagery so people can understand the piece.
Really great work though!
SweetMoments

Hi there. Lavvi in to review.

I must agree with Ranger. I'm definitely confused which is metaphorical and which is not. The thing is, the story took a sudden twist, that everything jumbled up along the way. In a downhill spiral. This could possibly be fixed by cutting down on some metaphors/similes.

Because this is currently a little messy, I'm not entirely sure that I grasp the whole concept of your little piece except for the fact that it's a ghost story. And if I'm wrong, well, that just proves how much more crazy it is. I'm not sure what Molly is doing, where she is, what everything means. It doesn't seem very well put-together or logical or arranged. You might want to work this out for future writings perhaps as well as fix this up.

I'm sorry if this comes across as a little harsh, I mean in no way to upset you. I'm just being frank.

Yours,
Lavvi

EmilyEmilyEmilyy <3
I still need to put mine up but I can see why Hendo gave u an 8. This is amazing. I thought I read yours in lesson but I don't remember thus plot, did you change it?
The story is very well written grammatically, which yours always are. I also love the story. You tell them so well. You need to write more as you are so talented. Loves youuu!!!
xx

A spider crawled up Molly’s spine as she made her way #FF0000 ">out into the bitter, neglected #FF0000 ">You'll want to be careful with double adjectives as they get old really fast. garden. Mothering her teddy bear, she tiptoed like a ballerina over to the black hole. #FF0000 ">...Black hole? The sky was murky and hung above Molly threateningly. She felt the first drop of dread fall onto her forehead and drip off her small, innocent #FF0000 ">Eh. There you go with double adjectives again. Try eliminating innocent, mainly because it sounds strange and a little too try-hard to me. oo nose. She didn’t want to get caught in the oncoming torrent.

BANG! Like a rabbit caught in the headlight, #FF0000 ">That's a cliche. Might want to use a different simile. I know you can do better. Molly let the bucket in her hands slip, through her cold, stony #FF0000 ">Ugh. Nooo. Get rid of one. Cold, probably. Stony usually implies cold. fingers #FF0000 ">On another note, I was aware she was carrying a teddy bear, but not a bucket.. She heard it splash into the freezing depths far below. #FF0000 ">...A well. You're talking about a well. I didn't realize it until now. No use describing something in poetic terms if the reader doesn't understand it. oo" Try to make it clearer? She clutched at her teddy bear desperately, #FF0000 ">she squeezed its scratchy fur beneath her rock #FF0000 ">You're aware that by repeating this metaphor (sort of), you're setting it up so we think her fingers are actually made of rock? fingers, searching for the comfort that wasn’t there. Crisp air dominated her delicate lungs#FF0000 ">; her throat dried up, shattering her breath into razor sharp shards.

“Molly!” two blood curdling voices jeered #FF0000 ">Jeered? oo I'm having a hard time envisioning this. in unison. A mirror of a mocking face loomed over her body of a ragdoll. #FF0040 ">This is where I'm pretty sure this is a badly executed metaphor. She's just imagining these, right? It's not clear.

“Look what ya’ve done, Father’ll be furious!” one of the voices told her#FF0000 ">, pulling a scornful face in hers. #FF0000 ">I don't get this last bit. Does this mean Molly's face turned scornful? Why would it? Wouldn't she be sad or guilty? Also, show. Don't tell. Tombstone teeth grinned tauntingly, breathing stale breath over her.

“Yeah, he’ll be real’ angry!” the other hissed.

Molly’s heart plunged. She gazed up at the twisted arrogant faces of her brothers, Jack and Joe. Echo#FF0000 ">es of centuries reverberated around her. The tangle of the garden framed their faces, the finishing touch to a menacing work of art. A flip book of memories flashed across her mind. Father#FF0000 ">'s face wild and raging above her, nostrils flared, pawing the ground#FF0000 ">, ready to charge… #FF0000 ">...Her father's a dog? ._. I will honestly tell you that metaphors are getting tiring at this point. You can only do them so much before they become tired.

Suddenly the screeching of the wind whirled around her, ripping through the garden, exposing every secret and forgotten memory. The trees wailed in protest, thrashing wildly, trying to beat off the attack. The battering ram struck the sky, right at the weakest point. #FF0000 ">And the sky crumbled. >> Enough metaphors, please. Sometimes it's not bad to outright say something.

Molly frantically scampered through the battle#FF0000 ">, in a desperate attempt to reclaim her innocence. Robotic hands #FF0000 ">...Robots now? I'm so tired of metaphors but I'm sure this is another one. seized her, snatching her off the stable ground. Petrified, she slowly turned her head. Heartless eyes stared like lasers #FF0000 ">The story turns sci-fi when you keep this theme with your metaphors. ._. ahead, something sharp and emotionless was stuck in them, and they were glazed and not seeing. #FF0000 ">First. Whose eyes? Disembodied eyes? What? She kicked and screamed with all her strength.

“MAMA!” she cried, only to listen to her voice disappear into the shadows. Molly’s dainty legs struggled, but the more she resisted the stronger the restraint became. Her long dress bound her legs into a useless bundle. Feeling her chances desert her#FF0000 ">, she clawed at Jack’s pale face. #FF0000 ">First of all, you never even made it clear Jack and her brother were real people. They were buried in all your metaphors. Now I know, but it's too late because my vision of the entire thing has crumbled. Her nails tore across his vulnerable, human flesh, crimson blood dripped onto her white dress, and he didn’t even flinch.

“MAMA!” her voice could have been the insignificant rustle of a leaf. The boys hoisted her over the well, as easily as they would if lifting a feather.

“MAMA!” Molly shrieked#FF0000 ">, despairing.

She could smell it beneath her, damp and cold. Her stomach lurched, and then the boys made their wish and tossed the penny down the well. #FF0000 ">This metaphor is actually clever. If you decide to go through this and hack out a ton of metaphors, I'd advise keeping this one. The moonlight reflected off #FF0000 ">...Here you take it too far. Unless Molly is made of polished metal or has a reflective surface, the moonlight won't reflect off her. it one last time as it tumbled, and then it was swallowed by darkness, never to see the light again.

The scream that the neighbours#FF0000 ">, heard that night was neither human nor animal. It was a scream of pure terror, the scream of death. Jack and Joe Johnson were found unconscious by the well#FF0000 ">, with no recollection whatsoever#FF0000 ">, of the night they #FF0000 ">ignorantly They already don't know what they did. Putting ignorantly here is superfluous and annoying. murdered their sister. The Johnson family never told anybody the truth about Molly. It wasn’t until many, many years later when Mrs. Johnsons’ diary was found under a floorboard#FF0000 ">, that the truth was revealed. Today at Bramble House Molly leaves the well every night, in a desperate attempt to reclaim her innocence.

You commit a lot of comma splices there. You also mistake commas as semicolons. Semicolons connect two sentences that are related to each other. Commas don't. If they do, those independent clauses will have a conjunction sitting between them.

Here are some links on commas and their uses, as well as on other grammar links I feel you'll find useful:

The Uses of the Comma That are Often Overlooked
Run-on Sentences
Apostrophes
Punctuation Marks
Commas VS Semi-colons

Next, let's tackle your story itself. I'll be brutally honest and frank -it doesn't make sense. There's too many metaphors for it to make sense, and even after I weeded out what I believed were metaphors, I don't really understand it. There are too many questions for it to make a coherent story. The biggest question on my mind after I finished it was why the two brothers did it. You're obviously setting it up for demonic possession or something of the sort, but the family would not forgive the brothers so easily. Second, why would those demons target Molly? What had she ever done to them? Third, had the family always known there were demons? Why didn't Molly feel relieved when she saw her brothers? They were her brothers; surely she knew they wouldn't leave her out in the storm and would help her?

Your characters are paper-thin. They don't have any dimension to them. They don't really feel real, mostly because they have no personalities and emotions. >.O" All you showed me was metaphor upon metaphor, and then you told me Molly did this and that and she was afraid. Fear seems to be her only emotion when you could have showed a range of emotions here. She could have been curious about the well or else she wouldn't have gone near it. She could, as I mentioned, be relieved when she saw her brothers. Desperate when they lifted her over the well, perhaps screaming and holding onto them and promising them things.

I'm surprised no one heard the commotion, though. I assure you that a child's screaming voice would stick out in a typhoon/storm. A storm's sounds are nothing like the child's screaming so it would ring through the night. Surely a neighbor heard something?

Also, before I forget to mention this - cut out as many metaphors as possible. You have too many here. Metaphors are not necessarily bad, but when they drown the story they're terrible. Think of metaphors like pepper or salt. Good in moderation, as in can add flavor to the food, but when you put on too much it just becomes disgusting. Don't overdo it. Not everything needs to be all flowery. People don't need to 'dance across the street in a light patter of footsteps' as much as they could just stroll through. Also, take note that if you use metaphors consistent with a theme, you will make it seem as if it's not really a metaphor but that it's to be taken literally.

Anyway, that was my two cents. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me. ^^

Sincerely,

Octave