Hellfire

RayneChild · 2008-10-06T03:57:15Z

EDIT: I changed it from 3rd person POV to first person. Let me know if I missed anything! Thanks! Also. If you're going to review saying "Omg this sucks fix it sorry," DON'T apologize and DON'T just leave it at that. Give suggestions on How. To. Fix. It! Surely if YOU know that it's wrong, then YOU know how to fix it. Perhaps "No crit is too harsh" is a bit of an overstatement? Moving? We were moving?! How could this be? I couldn’t leave Manhattan now! Not now, not like this! I had friends, love, a life! We couldn’t possibly move! “But…but…we can’t!” I cried. I looked into my mom’s dark brown eyes and I could see my reflection. She was as close to tears as I was. “I’m sorry, Larara. We have to. It’s the only way we can make money.” She sat next to me on the couch. “You’ll love Malibu! I know it.” “But it…it’s not New York…!” My voice trembled as I tried maybe a little too hard to keep that lump in my throat from making itself known. “Oh, honey, I – I’m so sorry…” I stared at my trembling hands. My mouth dropped a little and my breathing speed increased, like I was hyperventilating. My vision blurred and I felt tiny rivers of tears washing down my face. I hid in my hands and let it all out. I could feel pieces of my yellow hair falling around me. “Please don’t cry, Larara,” I heard her say, but the lump in her throat was quite apparent as well. My whole life was here. My friends, my love, my past, everything. And now I had to leave it all? To go to the opposite corner of the country? How could I possibly be expected to do that? After a bit, I looked at my hands. There were little pools of tears in them. I carelessly dumped them on the floor and stood up robotically. “Excuse me…” I whispered and walked stiffly, like a zombie, towards the stairs. When I did make it upstairs, I shuffled over to my bed, flopped down onto it, and continued crying my heart out. After a few minutes, I felt something reach up and touch the small section of bed next to me. I looked up and saw my husky, Rayne, sitting back on her haunches with her paw on the edge of the bed. Her sad blue eyes stared at me with powerful emotion and sympathy. Her wolven genes made her tall even when she sat down, so she was eye-level with me. "I can’t do it, Rayne,” I told her. “It’s like she wasn’t thinking about me…about how I’d feel… It’s like she doesn’t care…” Rayne reached her other paw up and placed it comfortingly on my back. I managed to cry myself to sleep. * * * I hugged all my friends and kissed my boyfriend for the last time. Tears streaked down my face as I hugged all of them. They had always been so loyal, and perfect, and in general, ideal friends. Each of us had a special inside joke or secret handshake we used to say good-bye with. They had all always been there for me, and I knew I could never replace any of them. After a very emotional good-bye, I finally boarded the plane that would take me to my new life. "You're positive that Rayne is on the plane?" "Yes, Larara, she's on here. I would never ever leave Manhattan without our precious dog." " My dog, mother. My precious dog. Rayne is mine ." "Right, right. Rayne is your dog. I'm sorry..." I exhaled deeply and continued to stare out the window. It was times like now that I wondered how much different things would be if dad were still around. My mom told me that he died in a car crash when I was four, but I never really believed her. It was far too common a way to die. I remembered him a little, but not much. I knew that I got my looks from him - blonde hair, green eyes, tan skin, medium height; basically my entire appearance. My mom, with her dark brown hair, eyes, nearly white skin, and tall build, looked nothing like me whatsoever. I also remembered that he was a pretty cool, fun-loving guy, who loved to play. Mom never wanted to do any of that stuff. She always acted like she was above it all. But not dad. No matter how tired he was, he always managed to find a little time for me. The thought of how much he cared brought a smile to my face and I looked up at the sky. Not that mom didn't care, just that she could never match my dad. I knew that, where ever he was, he was watching me, wishing more than anything that we could do that again. I heard her start to talk again. A little disgusted, I rolled my eyes and stuck my iPod earbuds in my ears to drown her out. Nine hours later, we landed in Malibu, California. I had to shield my eyes from all of the sun's bright rays. All throughout the car ride to our new home, I complained about how it was too hot and too bright. Maybe we'd go back. " How hot is it here? " " What's the temperature? " " Manhattan never got this hot. " " Why is it so bright? " " I can't even see anything! " Rayne covered her ears with her paws. It was a lie, of course. At least, that last part was. I stared out the window the entire time, and I saw everything . Palm trees. Palm trees as far as the eye could see. Lines and lines of different size and color buildings lined the boardwalk to the brightly shimmering ocean just beyond. Hundreds of people all along the shore dashed towards the water, eager to be impaled by the ocean's waves. Much as I didn't want to, I couldn't help but smile. Secretly, I wondered if I would like it here, and if I'd get used to it. I quickly pushed the thought away. The beach would get old after awhile. I continued throwing out annoyances the rest of the way there. When we pulled into the round-about driveway of our new house, however, I stopped complaining altogether. I stepped out and saw a mansion in front of me. My jaw dropped in the form of a smile. White stucco was plastered to the incredibly lengthy walls of the home's face and red roof tiles gave it a charming Spanish flair. Red shutters to match were decoratively screwed to the wall beside every window, with the exceptions of a couple extra large and extra small ones. Rayne trotted up to the double oak doors that led inside and I hurried after her. Once inside, I marveled at the hugeness of the new house. And it truly was new. It had just gotten finished being built, and I could tell, because it still had that new-house-smell. The freshness of the forest wood that constructed the floors filled my senses and the feeling of nature consumed me. The smell of drywall hovered above every room and settled over me the longer I stood in one place. My shoes echoed through the entire house with every running step I took. I darted upstairs to find my room. And find it, I did. The room was huge. At least twice the size of my room in Manhattan. I was definitely pleased.

This is definitely better, description-wise; I've got a concrete vision of what the house looks like (and it sounds lovely...plus I love the little details you put in, like "Spanish flair". It's the tiny concrete details that make writing pop), and it sounds lovely. Also, I like the passage where Larara's seeing Malibu for the first time, and trying her hardest not to like it. Not only did it provide a description of her settings, but it also helped show a little more of Larara's character, and endeared me a little more to her, because I've felt the same before.

Actually, I think that you should keep Larara's argument with her mother; it helps set up from the beginning that Larara and her mother have a contentious relationship. The crying, to me, it just felt a little...I don't know...it kind of makes Larara seem overly emotional? Having them argue is fine; just be careful not to make Larara too bitchy or toughen her mom up a bit. Yeah...I feel an argument would be a more emphatic start to this piece. But she is much less bitchy in this piece, which is good.

Though again, I'd suggest actually starting the story off with a scene of Larara with her friends.

Nothing else could quite drive home how much Larara's going to be losing by moving.

One last nitpick--one time, you used the word "acceptions" instead of "exceptions".

This is much better than before, especially with the description. Just now try to find a balance between bitchiness and weepiness for Larara's character...I know it's tough, but keep on working.

There's definitely potential in the piece.

Best of luck in your endeavors!

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