Young Writers Society

The Basement was a large, large cavern, just waiting to swallow him in its murky depths. It was here that horrible monsters lurked behind every shadow, and witches cast their spells in the gloom, and giants hid underneath brooms, and other scary, beastly things that just ached to eat small children, preferably little six year old boys, skulked. Lissie said so, and Lissie was never wrong.

Michael took a deep, deep breath, so deep that it hurt, and stared at the doors before him. They were enormous doors, bigger than any other in the house, and the doorknob was high, high up, so high up that he could not reach it, even when he stood on his tip-toes. Michael stared and stared at it, but the doorknob wasn’t getting any lower.

Cassie could make it go lower, Michael knew she could. Cassie also said that Lissie lied when Lissie talked about all those monsters, but Michael didn’t believe her. Lissie never lied to him, and Cassie sometimes did. Cassie said that she would never, ever leave him, and where was she now? Cassie could make the doors open, if she wanted, but she wasn’t here, and so she couldn’t.

Michael stared apprehensively at the doorknob. Everything could happen, now. Those were the doors that lead to the Basement, and in the Basement were monsters, and witches and giants, and - Lissie said so, and she said that there were other things, too, things that liked to eat little, six year old boys…

Michael was not afraid, not at all. The Basement doors were locked, and he knew that as long as they were locked – Lissie had repeated and repeated that – nothing would escape them. She said that when he came to her at night, because he was scared that they would come, the monsters and witches, and giants, and snatch him away from his bed. No, Michael was not afraid, not yet. The problem was, he needed the doors to open.

Oh, but if he opened them, if he opened the doors, then everything would be free, and they, the monsters, witches and giants, and everything else, would come and kidnap him, take him away, and make soup of him, because they really, really liked little six year old boys. They would carry him away, and-

But Tiddles was there. Tiddles, who needed to be rescued.

Michael tried, once again, to turn the knob; again and again he jumped, and again and again he missed by far. The knob was high, so very high up, and it wasn’t getting any lower. Michael was a sensible little boy, and he knew that he would not do anything on his own. He was too little. He needed someone who was big, bigger and higher than the knob; he needed a grown-up. Grown-ups could do everything.

Michael, without farther ado, shuffled along to his sister’s bedroom. His superman slippers clacked against the cold tiled floor, and his chin wobbled only the slightest bit as he scuffled through the corridor. Then, finally, after years and years of walking, he reached his destination.

“Lissie,” he said to the girl sitting behind a large, large desk. She didn’t look up, writing something feverishly, and Michael jabbed her with a finger. He had knocked on the door before entering his sister’s bedroom, because he knew that she would be cross with him should he do so without knocking. It was Cassie’s room too, but Cassie explained that she didn’t need it any more. And so Michael waited, he really did – or tried to – for Lissie, not Cassie, to let him in. But she didn’t, so he went inside. Michael jabbed her again in the shoulder. “Lissie, I left Tiddles-”

“Mom!” Lissie yelled right into his ear. Lissie liked to yell, Michael knew, and so he let her yell, even though was screaming right into his ear. And Lissie yelled very loudly. “Michael’s bugging me again!”

“… left Tiddles in the Basement.”

An incomprehensible mumbling came from downstairs, and Michael couldn’t make out anything of what Mommy said. But Lissie must have, though, as her brows snapped together, a harboring of a pout on her lower lip. Silence fell, and it became so quiet that it hurt Michael’s ears, and his legs hurt, too, because he was standing so long, and his chin began to wobble, and he wanted to cry, because Lissie did not want to help him, and because his legs hurt and he didn’t like the silence, and because Lissie wasn’t doing anything. And his legs hurt, too, and the silence was as horrible as the monsters. But he tried very, very hard not to cry; he knew that Lissie did not like it when he cried.

“I’m doing my homework,” Lissie declared finally, looking imperatively down her nose at him. “You’re too little to understand; I don’t have any time for you.”

Michael sat down on the pink carpet, because his legs really did hurt, and looked at her tearfully. Cassie would have helped him, he knew, but Cassie was nowhere to be seen.

Lissie sighed, irritated. “You’re a pest, you know that?” Michael was a smart little boy, and kept his mouth shut, even though he really did want to say: ‘Am not’. He also did not let his sister see the wide form ear to ear smile that expanded on his face when she said, “What do you want, then?”

Michael took Lissie’s hand and dragged her to the Basement, and pointed to the doors. And then everything went wrong.

“Don’t you think that they’re pretty?” Michael asked Lissie hopefully. The pictures were pretty, really. A bit angular, and made up of mostly of lines and circle, and a square or two – and on the white walls, yes – but the pretty they were. And colorful! There was red, purple, and green and yellow and orange, and blue and pink. Cassie drew them for him.

Lissie started yelling at him, then. She behaved a lot like Mommy, she did, when she yelled. And then she called Mommy, too, and Mommy yelled at him also. They wouldn’t believe him when he said that it was Cassie who drew it. Mommy cried when he said that it was Cassie, but Michael was not stupid and he knew that they didn’t believe him. He just didn’t know why.

And he didn’t know where Cassie was. If he found Cassie, then he could tell her to tell Mommy that it wasn’t him who drew the pictures all over the corridors. And Cassie could open the Basement for him, too.

Mommy hugged him again. She hugged Lissie, too. Michael had the unclear suspicion that he should cry, too, but he did not know why. But it seemed that Mommy forgot about the pictures on the wall, and when he said that Tiddles was locked in the basement, Mommy told Lissie to open the Basement and help him rescue Tiddles.

Lissie made a face – she had not cried, which was why Michael always went to her for help, not Mommy – and went to open the door. The boy dragged behind her, struggling to keep up with his big sister.

Lissie opened the door.

Michael was quite, quite scared, but he was a considerate little boy, and he knew that Tiddles was down there, all alone, too, and that Tiddles must be quite, quite scared also, a tad more scared than him, because he was still standing upstairs, where it was still light, and there was Lissie beside him, and Tiddles was alone. And Tiddles didn’t like being alone, and didn’t like the dark, either. That was why he always slept with Michael – to not be alone in the dark, dark darkness.

Michael looked around, craned his neck only to see Lissie standing behind him. She was tall, very tall, as tall as a mountain, it seemed. As tall as Mommy or Daddy, but not quite – Lissie was twelve, and twelve meant she was almost a grown-up, and that was why she did very important things, like homework. It was Cassie who was a real grown-up, but Cassie explained to him that there were some things which she couldn’t do.

Michael very much wanted to be grown-up, too, wanted to read and write, and study like them, like his sisters, and do other important things, but Lissie always called him ‘little’ and said that he would have to wait, and wait, and wait... Lissie’s head was now cocked of to one side, left eyebrow up and an ugly, ugly expression, one that he didn’t like at all, was scrawled on her pale features. But she was standing in the corridor, where the light fought of the dark, dark darkness…

Michael swallowed and looked down. The stairs were enormous, each step a gargantuan gorge, and they seemed to not have an end. Down and down and down they went, cold stone leading into the darkness. Michael squeezed his eyes shut and took a few tiny steps down into the blackness.

There was dust everywhere, making it hard for him to breath. The curly stairs made him dizzy, but he refused to open his eyes, because he preferred to know that the monsters were there instead of actually seeing them. He was trembling and there were goosebumps on his skin, and his chin was wobbling more than ever, and he was scared, but somewhere down there was Tiddles. Michael knew he had to rescue Tiddles.

“I’ll turn on the light, if you want,” Lissie called out suddenly. Michael did not think of the fact that Lissie could have done that much earlier, and nodded; he also did not think that perhaps the she would be unable to see him do so. But Lissie had already flicked the light on, and Michael squeezed his tighter eyes shut at the sudden brightness, as if scared to see anything through closed eyelids.

“Tiddles? Tiddles, where are you?” Michael finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Don’t call his name, you idiot!” Lissie yelled from the top of the stair. “He’s a teddy bear, for Pete’s sake! And open your eyes!”

“Tiddles, Tiddles!” Michael whispered softly, as if he had not heard her still not daring to open his eyes. There were monsters here, he knew, ready to snatch him away the moment they saw him. Truth to be said, he thought it was better when it was dark – then at least he didn’t have to see them, even through closed eyes. Monsters, witches, giants and other beastly things, all wanting to eat a poor little six year old boy…

“Michael!” Lissie called again, impatient. “I lied, alright? There’s no such thing as monsters, I lied!”

Michael shook his head vehemently, hands over his eyes, which were still shut very, very tightly. Left, right, left and right his head went, until it made him so dizzy that he had to sit down. He even stopped hearing Lissie. He tripped, landing flat on his back on the ground.

Sounds. The soft ring of faraway bells, a hiss, a crunch, somewhere above it all was not Lissie, but Cassie. Cassie telling him something that he could not hear. Michael stood up, still not opening his eyes. His rubbed his elbow, whimpering as through the rip in his trousers he felt blood. It hurt. But – Cassie? Cassie!

“Michael, get out of here! Lissie, get him out of here, now!”

Oh, but his elbow hurt. Was it bleeding? It would be horrible if it were bleeding, because Lissie didn’t like blood, and she would yell at him again. And why did it have to hurt? Michael wanted to cry, but he didn’t want Lissie yelling at him for crying, too, and so when silent tears of pain slid down dirt cheeks, not a sound was made by him. Tiddles. Tiddles was somewhere hereł Tiddles needed to be saved.

Crunch, crunch. Then the hiss again, a growl, and-

“Michael! Don’t open-”

“Cassie?” Michael asked. He forgot about his fall, forgot about Lissie still screaming from the corridor, and forgot about his fear of monsters. He opened his eyes, eagerly looking for the silhouette that he knew so well.

“… your eyes!”

What he saw made him start screaming, louder even than Lissie when she had yelled at him for the pictures in the hallway. Louder than Lissie and Mommy together. A thing hovered high up below the ceiling, higher even than the doorknob had been. It was grey, and it was black, and it was brown, too; it had arms and legs, but it was clawing and kicking in the air, and Michael couldn’t count all the limbs. It looked human, but it wasn’t human, because it was too grey and too black, and too brown, too.

The thing, whatever it was, looked up, eyes that lacked eyebrows and eyelashes glistening. It whirled around and sped straight at him, and Cassie – Cassie was there, too - started screaming also, and began running in Michael’s direction, too. She ran fast, very fast, faster than Michael had ever seen anyone running, and she seemed to not touch the floor, but glide, float, fly.

And Michael, Michael screamed the loudest, and Lissie, from somewhere behind, screamed too. Above the yells, above the screeches, the boy heard Cassie’s clear voice: “Selwyn! Selwyn, I command you to my presence!”

It was Cassie who somehow reached Michael first, not the creature. The boy did not see what happened, having closed his eyes shut, but felt her hug him tightly, reassuringly. When he tried to hug her back, though, he found that he couldn’t; his arms encountered only air. He grabbed and grabbed at the air and wailed and opened his eyes to see why he couldn’t hug Cassie, just in time to see his sister throw herself in the creature’s path. They both were far, far away from him, two hazy silhouettes halfway up stairs, halfway up where Lissie was standing.

Michael desperately wanted to hug Cassie.

He ran to them, to Cassie and the thing, wanting to protect Cassie, because whatever it was, it was hurting her. She had her face on, the one that she had a lot after her funeral, and Michael didn’t like Cassie with that face, because it was scary. Then Cassie did not seem like Cassie at all, then. Cassie with that face looked scary, and she wasn’t scary, not really.

He ran, ran ran, and ran, and it seemed that he ran a long, long time, longer then he should. But before he could reach them, before he could reach Cassie and the thing, and save Cassie, Cassie did something strange.

Lissie’s screams died out.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Okay, first of all I would like to thank in advance everyone who read this. I know it was quite long (about 4,700 words), and I very much appreciate it. Many thanks to the people who read and critiqued – all suggestions, advice, corrections, impressions, etc. are very, very, very welcome.

Edit: Notice that 'Basement' is capitalized. I have a question: Can it stay that way, or should I change it? Basically, the 'B' is apitalized because the basement is important to Michael, and my teacher said (albeit the Polish one) that there's a rule that states that in that particular case a word can indeed be capitalized. Does that apply to English?

Okay ^.^ To start, I am intrigued to know more, and I do like the story itself. I do, however, have some issues:

You use repetition alot, while this can be very effective, and is within your story, too much of it becomes frustrating to read. I suggest going though and only keeping those repetitions that you feel are absolutely necessary.

The voice of the story - Michael - is not one of a six year old. I think you tried hard on this, and produced a level of childishness to the telling, but if you had not told me he was six I would not have pegged that to be his age. He uses a few words that could not possibly be sed by this level of six-year-old. "apprehensively" "without further ado" "destination" These are only a few examples of word that a six-year-old would never use, not one with the emotional and intellect level that Michael appears to have. You can still have the same meaning using kids words.

It also seems odd that Lisse would let him go down into the basement on his own, even if she is annoyed at him she knows the basement is no place for Michael.

I am not going to comment on puncutuation (although I think I have seen some issues) because I am not sure about puncuation most of the time, and I do not want to tell you something that is wrong ^.^

I think that capitalising the B for basement could work, although I would reduce the number of times you say basement, to grant the effect I think you're looking for.

I look forward to more.

I hope this helps, feel free to pm me with any questions.

*Hearts* Le Penguin.

PenguinAttack - thank you very very very much for the crit, and for your time! I really do appreciate you reading and critiquing this.

First of all, I would like to say thanks for answering the basement issue - it had been bugging me for the last few day. Grr. So you say that it can stay that way? Yay. But is the word really repeated so much that it stands out?

And then the Lissie sending Michael alone issue. I think that yes, she would. XD My brother is five, and I would, lol. Ekhm. What I wanted to say is that later on there will be (thank you thank you thank you, I just thought of it) another scene on the basement, but this time it will be more from Lissie’s POV, and then we’ll see that the basement isn’t really that scary, that e.g. the staircase had like four steps, and then there’s this small room. Or something like that.

The punctuation - I would, of course, like some examples, but again, thanks for pointing that out. I thought everything was more or less - lol - okay in that field, but I learned the hard way that things aren’t always the way they seem. I find proofreading my own texts a horrible task, because I usually tend to see what I want to see. But back to the topic: (Yes, I read it all again, or rather skimmed through it) What do you think I should do with the comma (or no comma, then) after ‘little’ in: ‘(…) little six year old boys (…)’? Also, if you saw anything else that really stands out, but aren’t sure whether it’s right/wrong, point that out to me. (I’m asking you this because you already read the story, but if you don’t remember anything, I still do love you!)

The repetition - Frustrating, you say? Eh, I thought it looked cute ^_^ Ekhem, anyway. *Wanders of to contemplate on the fact…* (And that means that yes, I will most probably cut out a few of the repetitions).

And now for the grand finale - the Voice (woot for all that is capitalized). The story is kind of written for Michael’s POV, but then it’s not. I had the same problem with it as you when writing this (albeit with another word), but then in the end I left it. Of course that no, Michael as such would never use them, but this isn’t exactly from Michael’s POV. Ugh, maybe I should just change the words instead of arguing? Will contemplate on this some more.

Anyway, thanks again for the crit, I love you so very very much,
Esme

Penguins done the nitpicking so I thought I'd just comment on things that she hasn't said.

The Basement was a large, large cavern, just waiting to swallow him in its murky depths. It was here that horrible monsters lurked behind every shadow, and witches cast their spells in the gloom, and giants hid underneath brooms, and other scary, beastly things that just ached to eat small children, preferably little six year old boys, skulked. Lissie said so, and Lissie was never wrong.

I must say a loved this beginning. It pulled me into the story straight away and you know theres a lot hanging on beginnings.

Throughout the entire thing, your style was pretty well written, though I too found problems with the things dear penguin pointed out. I also like the story, is it a short piece or a part of something longer? The ending intriguied me.

*Fan*

Fan,

I love you, too. *Squeals* And yes, there will be more, probably 2 to 3 intsallments until I get bored with all this, lol. I usually do. Right now I do have plans, but nothing is written so far...

Do you also think I should get rid of the long-ish-like words? My arguments on the subjects are scarce, I admit, but... :S I just don't know.

Anyway, thank you for the crit, I really appreciate it!


Cheers,
Esme

As it is from Michaels P.O.V, you might need to get rid of some of the longer words. But you said that it switches to someone else's soon and then it's o.k to use them then I suppose.

What I do for Journey's Dawn is use clever words for Seth (without trying to strain it) and relatively simple ones for Elayna because she, well.....not stupid but less scholarly inclined. Hope that helps.

*Fan*

Elayna is pecular, yes? ^_^ She's great.

Okay this is an intresting start a warning though this could very put off some more mature or older people you know. Hmm now continuing this young style the repition to emphasise I know but it's making me feel like this is a kids book, am I right? Hmm I see how ya trying to do it from kids point of view, but it's not necessary plus if it is indeed his thoughts. He's thinking all the start basically so why not try lessen his thoughts. This young style is bothering me. It's sweet, but couldn't you lessen it. I also didn't like you use of "and" so much. I suggest if you're gonna do this from boy point of view use "I" instead of he. It seems it would be much better in first person and more terrifying it was intriqueing but I feel this whole chapter should be in first person. It dragged on though with ya're attempt at his volcabulary. If ya're gonna try have his thoughts put them in italics but write rest as you would a normal book, harsh I know but did warn you.

Good luck VSN

Well, first of all, they’re not exactly Michael’s thoughts, are they? I mean, kind of it is, but this is still first person narration. (Later on it’ll be first person, but that’ll be with Lissie). And I don’t really want to change it to ‘I’, because that would automatically make it indeed to Michael’s POV, and then I would have to portray his thoughts… A six-year-old’s thoughts…

Not harsh : ) It’s just that everyone keeps telling me to change it to first person and I, stubborn I, do not want to. I mean - six years old, Michael is. I think that if I started to write from his POV - then it would be dreadful to read…

Anyway, thank you so very much for reading this : ) I would like to have as much opinions on this as is possible!

Cheers,
Esme

I really, really liked this. The voice of the little boy is wonderful, although, like some people said, some of the words are a little too old for him.

Your repition is good, but overused. Mix it up a little. Your sentence structure gets really predictable after a while. Saying "ugly, ugly expression" and "high, high up" works maybe once or twice. After that try something else. Also, some of your paragraphs are not really paragraphs - they're one long sentence. And that is really hard to read. Break up the sentences a little. I realize you're trying to make it sound like an excited little boy rushing through words, and that's effective - but, like the repetition, don't overuse it. Run-ons work - but pace yourself.

Other than that, it was very good and I'm excited for more!
~Sunny

Sunny,

First of all, thank you very much for your crit. Having the standard (but very from the heart!) part said, I realize what you’re saying about some of the long-ish sentences - I will change that, because, now that you have pointed it out, some of them really do stand out. Originally (ehm yes, I did this on purpose, of course… : )) I wanted, through those sentences, to make Michale sound confused. But that didn’t really turn out too good, yes?

The repetitions: Same as above *sighs with frustration over self*

Love you!

Cheers,
Esme


P.S. I really do love your username!
P.S.S. There will be an edited version, there will, really ^_^

Now, I didn't think it was possible for a piece based around monsters in the basement to scare me. But it did. And I will tell you why, Es.

The tone that this piece is written in is so innocent and naive that I couldn't help but think of what I was like at six years old. And at six years old I was scared of the monsters in the attic. It completely reverted me back to then, which is a great thing as it's relatable. And readers love relatable stuff.

Repetition
Some of it was OK, but as the piece was quite long it just became irritating. I wouldn't say to take it out as it added innocence to the story, but I would take some of it out. For example:

Michael took a deep, deep breath, so deep that it hurt, and stared at the doors before him.

Here it worked well.
But by here:

Michael was quite, quite scared,

not so much.

Voice/ POV
I know some people are going to (or rather are) struggling with the POV at the moment. It's in third person but most of it is written like a six year could see it going on. This makes it harder for older people to read it. However, I think that the POV is fine and that it's your voice that is of your six year old- not your POV. For me, that's fine.

I'd say leave Basement as it is. Capitalized is fine....

Overall, good stuff and I can't wait to read more.

Alainna
xxx

Alainna,

Thanks (and that goes again to everyone who read/critted and read/without critting) for the feedback. It's rather thrilling to find someone who actually is for the Voice as it is ^_^ As was said, I am working on cutting out some repetitions, but it hurts. It does, really.

Thanks again,
Esme

Hi Eleinasari, I believe I did promised you a critique some time ago but I've been busy so I couldn't get to it till now. Here I go.

I don't think you need a line to line simply because your style of writing is very elegant and simple to read, not to mention it flows very well. However, I think you explained a bit too much in this piece. You do not need to tell us how they felt or the reasons behind something every so often. Readers should be able to pick it up themselves.

Then there are your characters. When they were about to open the door, you had somewhat lost my interest, as they were bland and stale. Honestly put, I couldn't care less about them and I hope they die really. You need to develop them more and make your reader connect with them more. Right now, they seem to be typical kids and nothing more. This is fantasy and so it is your job to work on developing your characters so that they are unique and can be memorable themselves.

Your descriptions is the strong point to the piece. It made me want to read more because you painted quite a vivid picture in my head. Kudos for you on that

Overall, it was alright. The concept of it was interesting though, but I think you failed to make the best out of it. Basically, put more thought into the story and develop it more. Add more depth into it and I promise you, you will get me wanting to read more.

Squallz,

Again, I’ll to start out by thanking you for the review. Next, I would like to say that after reading it I couldn’t quite think of a coherent reply to it ^_^ Lol, I guess I am a very vain person, but ah, well. I am talking, of course, about the character part of the crit. I came to think of Michael as one of my favorite character, but, it seems that that was a writer’s opinion, yes? As in, the writer’s opinion?

*Sighs* Anyway, thank you for pointing that out. I guess I have another point to work on when editing, lol.

Cheers,
Esme