Young Writers Society

This is, again, for Cal's contest. This includes characters from my novel The Party Killers and if it makes no sense to you, that is okay. ^^ The other half of this entry is Frank's Bits & Pieces.

080. WHEN LILACS LAST WERE WHITE

Agatha’s father always told her, “Don’t talk to strangers, pray for them.”

She was praying in church when the stranger came up to her and continued praying while he spoke.

“May I sit here?” the stranger asked. He sounded like her school teacher: educated, well-dressed, and overweening; but he smelled like the man who cleaned the loo.

Agatha ignored him, but he sat down anyway.

Dear Father, I pray for the stranger sitting next to me because he smells disgusting and I wish he wasn’t sitting next to me, can you make him sit somewhere else please? It would make me very happy.

She stopped praying and opened her eyes. The stranger was holding a gun to his head. He fired it and his brains sprayed on Agatha. The lifeless head slumped and rested against her shoulder. She didn’t move or scream or pray. She watched the blood soak into the floral pattern of her church dress. The warm, red liquid traced around the lilacs, then came out from under the puffed sleeve like a monster from under her bed. It crawled down her arm and held her hand. It painted her fingernails rouge. The blood sounded normal, like water, when it dripped onto the floor.

Agatha didn’t pray for strangers anymore; she watched them bleed.

007. I WANT YOUR HEART ON A SILVER PLATTER

Agatha didn’t know how to stop it, how to push all of the red disgusting back into the body and plug the hole. She held a handkerchief to Ginger Littlejohn’s wound and pushed, like he had instructed her to do, but the blood continued to soak through and stain her fingers. The wound squished when she pressed on it with more force. Agatha could feel her finger slip past the flesh and, for a moment, dig inside the man’s heart. If it weren’t for the handkerchief, she knew she’d have a piece of his heart under her nail. If the blood didn’t scare her, if it didn’t make her sick, she’d have tried again with bare hands.

Agatha held the handkerchief to his chest with one hand and slipped the other into his coat. Ginger convulsed. Agatha felt his heart fluttering and sputtering and trying to hold on. Like a surgeon invading his patient’s skin, her fingers fished in his pocket. After a few moments, she pulled out the will. Ginger had signed it with ink as red as his blood and Agatha’s name was on the dotted line.

“You…” the man whispered. Blood sprayed on her face as he coughed. It rolled down her chin and onto the floor. It was in her mouth. She tried not to breathe it in, not to think about it. The blood rolled down her chin and dripped onto her hands. It was coating her tongue in a metallic mixture of sick and she couldn’t breathe. Finally she coughed and spit the blood onto Ginger’s face. Agatha tried to resist the urge to wipe her tongue with the palm of her hand. That, too, was covered in blood.

After a few minutes, Agatha felt his chest lurch. The heart behind his rib cage slowed and came to a rest in the palm of her hand. She would squeeze the life out of it. She would squeeze his heart so hard the vessels would burst and the blood would spray the walls. She would paint her lips with Ginger’s blood, if she wanted.

There would be so much blood…

Agatha decided to let the rest of him spill on the floor, on her shoes, everywhere. She wanted to drown in it.

Tillychan!

You know I would make sandwiches for your characters any day, so I shan't gush too much in that regard. However, there was one line that bugged me especially:

She knew why she shot him—he was rich—but why was she smothering the wound, pressing the blood, and trying to make everything better?

Agatha is so irrational that it seems futile to even attempt to explain her in narrative. Why is she doing things? Because she's Agatha, that's why. Instead of saying it to us outright--because it will make no sense, even if it is a legitimate reason--try to suggest these things with hints. Does she look at his belongings lustily? Or finger the check in her pocket? Those small clues will give more motive to a character whose head we really do not want to enter.

Crap! I wasn't the first to get here...

Yeah right. I'm not on crack. It's just you're a freaking great author.

This was really good. A little short, but eh. As long as it comes from you and it's about PK, I'll read it!

I agree with Sam. Drop hints, don't tell us outright. Um... yeah. What else is there?

The man was rich and Agatha had shot him with a revolver. She knew why she shot him—he was rich—but why was she smothering the wound, pressing the blood, and trying to make everything better?

I hope that you are hinting to us that she has a soft side too. Cause all bad guys can't all be bad. They have good qualities too - like Agatha trying to stop the blood.

Fantastic.

Jared

Hello!

I really liked all the description that you put into this. Very visual. I see what you’re saying, about how it’s hard to write about a character when you’re not sure why they do the things they do. Don’t we all just wish our characters would let us in on everything?

Agatha seems to think many different things at once, like she can’t make up her mind. First she shoots a man because he is rich, then she helps him, and then she doesn’t feel bad at all. She is all over the place! But she's herself, and it doesn’t seem surprising what she does. So I guess that’s very good development on your part.

I’m not sure if that made much sense. Basically, even though Agatha (and yourself) is not sure why she is doing these things, she is still consistent through the narration.

So good job.

Hi Suz!

I haven't read Party Killers, though it's definitely on my list. Regardless, this works as a snippet. I know there are a lot of people who would just be dying with curiosity, wanting to know more about Agatha and the man that she killed, about motivation and intent, about scenes and settings, about character histories and potential plots. But I really just enjoyed it as it was. Which is not to say that I don't want to read more from PK (because I hear only good things), but this just worked.

My only nitpick:

Agatha didn’t know how to stop it, how to push all of the red disgusting back into the body and plug the hole.

So, disgusting is a...noun? I do this sometimes, and I've seen it done well in several books, but here it just confused me. Swapping red and disgusting would make more sense to me, actually.

Other than that, it was grood. Good luck with the contest!

Suz, I feel so guilty because you are always commenting on my poetry, usually to gush over it, yet I hardly ever visit your prose. So here I am in an attempt to redeem myself. I don't know how useful I'll be, as I know very little about Party Killers or even about Cal's contest, but, um...I'm just gonna critique now.

all of the red disgusting

That made my day, in a morbid and pukey sort of way. EDIT: Yes, Ari, it IS a noun. I use 'pretty' as a noun. Suz is entitled to use 'disgusting' as a noun. XD

Agatha could feel her finger slip past the flesh and, for a moment, dig inside the man’s heart.

The man was rich and Agatha had shot him with a revolver.

Here you have two mentions of her name very close. I think I prefer the second one--it flows better with its sentence. For the first the pronoun will do.
The first sentence, in fact, I'd rephrase. You could do much more with that idea of her hand actually going into his chest--delightfully yucky, by the way.
She could feel her fingers slip past his flesh. They dug, for a moment, into his heart...
Hmm. I didn't really get out what I was trying to say there, but you are much better at prose than I am. Band-aid my editing horrors! I think I'd like you to include "fingernails" somewhere in there.

He was convulsing under her hand, she could feel his heart fluttering and sputtering and trying to hold on to its life.

Cut "to its life." We know what it's trying to hold on to; stating it is practically redundant.

He coughed and dotted her face with blood drops.

See, this creates an image in my mind of him standing over her with a paintbrush dabbing little dots on her face. Not what you were going for, I think. A better sort of thing might be: She felt blood drops dot her face. Or "skin" instead of "face." Hmm.

Agatha wanted run.

I want run. From this sentence.

She would squeeze his heart so hard the vessels would burst and the blood would spray the walls. She could paint her lips in the blood if she wanted.

I feel as though the "could" in the last sentence should be a "would" so as to echo the sentence before it. Like this:
She would paint her lips in the blood. And then maybe some sort of image to accompany that.

I agree with Sam's comments regarding her character. You know me and my ineptitude at prose...I don't really deal with characters who aren't real people when it comes to poetry.

-Colly

I enjoyed the beginning, such as her digging into the man's heart, but by the end it was...eh. Yes, "eh." Maybe my awesome scale is a bit off (which you can gather corroborating evidence for,) maybe I'm on to something...

I think it started with the part Sam and BBB have mentioned:

Suzanne wrote:The man was rich and Agatha had shot him with a revolver. She knew why she shot him—he was rich—but why was she smothering the wound, pressing the blood, and trying to make everything better?

Yes, as they said, you shouldn't tell us outright, but you also repeated yourself. In both sentences you tell us that Agatha shot him and he was rich. If you keep this part, at least get rid of the first sentence so you don't repeat yourself.

Suzanne wrote:Blood sprayed on her face again as he coughed. It rolled down his chin and onto the floor.

Maybe you could make that her face? It's creepy to see it on him, but it'd be eerie for her to actually feel it. Of course, she's doing plenty of feeling with her hands....

Suzanne wrote:The heart behind his rib cage was slowly coming to a rest in the palm of her hand, metaphorically, and she would squeeze the life out of it. She would squeeze his heart so hard the vessels would burst and the blood would spray the walls. She could paint her lips in the blood if she wanted.

Hmm, I'm not sure about this passage. I feel like you need to make this a bit seductive. Perhaps change the "woulds" to "coulds" (or at least change the could to a would for consistency) and insert a sentence between these two following sentences that connects the 'could be blood' to her deciding that there should be that much blood:

Suzanne wrote:There would be so much blood. She decided to let the rest of him spill on the floor, on her shoes, everywhere.

Now that I've written all this, my awesome meter tingles. ^-^

I don't know how much of what I felt this bit lacked was caused by Agatha's elusiveness or what, but I hope it's not (and, therefore, that you can fix it) and that I helped.

I love you people so much. Edited version posted! And... The Second Piece will be up.. eventually. I need to write it.

Suzanne wrote:“You…” the man whispered. Blood sprayed on her face as he coughed. It rolled down her chin and onto the floor. It was in her mouth. She tried not to breathe it in, not to think about it. The blood rolled down her chin and dripped onto her hands. It was coating her tongue in a metallic mixture of sick and she couldn’t breathe. Finally she coughed and spit the blood onto Ginger’s face. Agatha tried to resist the urge to wipe her tongue with the palm of her hand. That, too, was covered in blood.

*squee* It's probably a bad sign that this makes me happy, but I'm probably happy because it's awesome, not because it's a blood-fest. Another positive comment: Agatha's character is a bit more consistent in this draft. Sure, she's stuck between her goal, possible God-complex, and an odd feeling of guilt, but her struggle with each of those is present throughout.

My only comment in which I'm not gushing or squee-ing is that you might want to combine the last two sentences of the above quote with "for" and whatever punctuation should come before "for", or something like that.

Oh! As I recently learned when my dog hurt her paw, blood smells. A lot. I couldn't stand in my room for long while my dog was in there. And she wasn't gushing blood, just bleeding. The smell may have been made worse by the smell of whatever my dog rolls in, but I'm practically immune to that. My point: you might want to add bits about the smell and how sickening it is.

As is, I love it!

Thank you so much Perra!


Other short posted. ^^ Too bad it fits chronologically before the other one! Poor early readers.

You're welcome! ^-^

I like this new one. It gives us some great insight into Agatha's character. It transitions well from an innocent and well-intentioned request (at least, that what it seems to be) to blood lust, mostly because of Agatha's prayer. The prayer shows us her selfish nature and uncaring attitude, which plays into her reaction to his death at the end. So, story-structure wise, I like it and don't see anything that needs changing.

Notes With Quotes:

Suzanne wrote:She was praying in church when the stranger came up to her and she continued praying while he spoke.

I think this sentence would flow better if you took out the last "she". As-is, I think you need a comma before "and", because this sentence consists of two independent clauses (my knowledge of grammatical terms is slowly coming back to me. )

Suzanne wrote:Dear Father[comma] I pray for the stranger sitting next to me because he smells disgusting and I wish he wasn’t sitting next to me, can you make him sit somewhere else please? It would make me very happy.

Suzanne wrote:It painted her fingernails rouge.

This goes well with the line in the second story saying that Agatha would paint her lips with blood. It adds a mini-continuity, a link, between the two stories. I like it.

My overall impression is best summed up with this sound: "Oooo!!" A.K.A: "Whoa! That's awesome." 'Cause the last sentence in the story is such a punch.

P.S.
I plan on reading The Party Killers within the next few days.

Awesomeness!

(When Lilacs Were Last White)

Dear Father, I pray for the stranger sitting next to me because he smells disgusting and I wish he wasn’t sitting next to me, can you make him sit somewhere else please? It would make me very happy.

*rolls eyes* Always knew Suz could pull off something like that.

The stranger was holding a gun to his head. He fired it and his brains sprayed on Agatha.

Eek! That was a little sudden... Couldn't you develop this just a tad more? Also, 'brains sprayed on Agatha' sounds a wee bit childish.

Anyway, it suddenly happens. What was she feeling? Horrified?

Nice ending.

(I Want Your Heart on a Sliver Platter)

(Re-read)

This time was a lot better than the last time. Agatha is really... sick minded.

And I love her!

-Jared

Ooh yay, these are longer and I'll have more things to say. ^^

She was praying in church when the stranger came up to her and continued praying while he spoke.

Personally, I feel like you could break this up into two sentences, like "blah stranger came up to her. She continued praying blah blah."

That was deep. I know.

He sounded like her school teacher:

Isn't schoolteacher one word?

overweening;

Is that even a word? xD

O_O Holy crap.

You are a master of creep. And zombie pimps.

The wound squished when she pressed on it with more force.

The wording of this is a little odd -- I'd look for a better way to phrase it, but I can't exactly put my finger on what exactly is bugging me about it.

*reads on* Ew! D:

I'm creeped out. Like, seriously. xD I just got out of the shower but I feel like I need another go.

Beautiful, much like its author. ^_~

Although the author is slightly less creepy... more ooky than anything.

*done rambling*

-Saint Razorblade
The Official YWS Pirate