StoweAway [one]

This is my other novel for NaNoWriMo. Which means it pretty much sucks, so rip it apart of me. If you are looking for future chapters, don't click on the 'StoweAway #__'. Look for StoweAway [___].

---

Chapter One




East Bristol had never been quieter. Perhaps it was an omen, maybe even a warning. Clair Stowe mulled over it frequently in the later years to come. What if this little infant was destined for greater things than she could ever have imagined? Wasn’t that like the Christ child? Clair thought about how the star had shown so brightly on that night. That was a sign. What if the silence of the night meant that the infant girl nested in her arms was to become great?
There were tears glimmering in what little light they could catch from the shimmering candlelight, placed on the table next to the wooden chair Clair was resting on.
The infant was asleep; she hadn’t woken up since she had been born. Clair’s sister, the mother of the newborn, lay exhausted in bed sheets in the other room. She could hear her faintly moaning in pain.
Clair fought tears back, knowing there was nothing she could do for her sister but pray.
The baby stirred in her arms and yawned. She sighed and placed her first finger under the baby’s tiny hands. The infant’s fingers slowly wound around it. Clair rocked the baby a little bit more until it nestled against her breast. She leaned forward and kissed its soft forehead.
Her sister moaned again from the other room.
“Aly,” her sister whispered. Clair raised from her seat, the baby still asleep in her arms, and walked quietly into the bedroom. Rose Stowe was tangled in the worn bed sheets; sweat drenched her forehead and body, giving off a sickly smell.
“She’s asleep,” Clair replied cautiously. She then sat in a wooden chair next to the bed and held the baby out to Rose.
Rose blinked several times, trying to focus her eyes on her baby. She weakly attempted to reach out and grab her, but she couldn’t hold her. She wasn’t strong enough yet.
“Hush,” Clair soothed. She, with one fragile hand, pushed Rose back into the bed. Rose’s bottom lip trembled as Clair laid the sleeping baby on top of her chest.
“Aly,” she whispered. “That’s her name. Aly Stowe.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” Clair replied quietly, stroking the small infant. Rose didn’t reply; she was too busy struggling to get her hands to hold her only child.
“I need to hold her at least once,” Rose said, her voice quaking. “Please. Let me hold her once.” The tears swelled up in the corner of her eyes. It was like trying to make a drop of water stay on a pinhead: almost impossible. The tears slid down her red, swollen cheeks.
“Let me hold her before I go,” Rose whispered, her eyes never leaving her child.
Clair bit her bottom lip and gulped, trying to hold back her emotions. She then slowly took her sister’s withered hands and took them out of the blankets. After that, Clair placed the baby in her arms. The infant stirred noiselessly.
Rose smiled gently and breathed through her nose. The baby stirred again and squinted its eyes open. Rose’s lips parted slightly.
“She knows her mother!” she stated, breathlessly.
Clair leaned against the wooden chair she was seated at, staying away from their tender, and probably last, moment together.
The baby’s eyes were a dark olive green color, just like her mother’s. She had little sprouts of black hair among her head.
Like her father, who Clair vowed the baby would never see again.
“Clair… Clair, where are you?” Rose whispered, her voice becoming urgent. Clair blinked and reached out to touch her sister’s clammy hand.
“I’m here right here,” she said.
“Where? I—I don’t see anything! Clair…” Rose was staring off into the distance with unseeing eyes. Clair’s heart froze over into an icicle, like the ones growing from the roof of the small five-roomed house she was currently residing in.
“I’m right here!” Clair said, pleading with her eyes. “Rose, look at me! Rose!”
“I—everything is black. Clair, I’m scared!”
“Listen to my voice. Follow it. Can you feel me touching your hand?”
Rose paused, frightened. “You’re touching my hand?”
“Oh, no,” Clair muttered and stood up from her chair, alarmed and scared. “Can you see me? Rose, answer me! Can you see me?”
“So it’s true,” Rose whispered, the lights in her eyes growing dimmer every second. The baby in her limp arms was beginning to cry.
“What? What did you say?” Clair asked, standing above her dying sister.
“There’s an angel standing in front of me. He’s come to rescue me,” Rose said and died. Clair shivered and put her arm over her sister’s pale face, and the baby began to scream.

Clair Stowe mulled over it frequently in the later years to come

Why? I mean, why put this random authorial omniscience here? It's out of place, halts the flow and unless it becomes the predominant storytelling medium, I would get rid of this.

Wasn’t that like the Christ child? Clair thought about how the star had shown so brightly on that night.

shone.

Christ-child = awkward phrasing. Why not 'baby Jesus'? The former is less-used, but its odd...just a personal thought there.

There were tears glimmering in what little light they could catch from the shimmering candlelight, placed on the table next to the wooden chair Clair was resting on.

Holy similar imagery, Batman! And by similar I mean, repetitive, and by that I mean, rhyming, ha. Shimmer glimmer for the win. You might like to revise that, and the sentence in general. [candlelight is placed on the table? You mean the candle, no?] It's unnecessarily long. The wooden chair? Well, what else would the chair be made out of? Little things like that can be cut out. There are a dozen shorter variations that flow better:

There were tears glimmering in the candlelight, reflecting from the table next to the chair Clair sat on.

Er...even that seems clunky. Hm. You should think on this.

The infant was asleep; she hadn’t woken up since she had been born.

Dude, she was born sleeping! Talk about lazy. No wonder the mother died, she had to do all the work.

Clair’s sister, the mother of the newborn, lay exhausted [s]in bed sheets[/s] in the other room

unnecessary and you say it again later.

She then sat in a wooden chair

The Empire Strikes Back! ... again. Why keep mentioning the wood? Is there something special about it? If you wish to add texture with your descriptions, give us more then 'wooden'.

Clair bit her bottom lip and gulped,[s] trying to hold back her emotions[/s]

You told us before that Clair was holding back tears, feelings, etc. Here, you have the liberty of just showing us with action, that being the biting and gulping. Less is more in emotional scenes, too.

She then slowly

'then' is the bane of storytelling. Avoid unless absolutely necessary.

Clair leaned against the wooden chair she was seated at,

Three strikes and you're outta here! Serial offenders need to be locked up, dontcha know. Stop telling us she's sitting on wooden chairs! I promise we won't forget. Scout's honour. Even though I'm not a Scout and where the hell did that expression come from anyway? Why are scouts meant to be so honourable? What have they ever done? *grumble grumble*

Clair’s heart froze over into an icicle[s], like the ones growing from the roof of the small five-roomed house she was currently residing in. [/s]

That's a really precise icicle her heart froze into.

I suggest you find another way to tell us she's in a five-bedroom house. I'm sure you can do it. For the most part, this is very easy to read, very simply told for the most part. Which is great on the one hand, but on the other, you actually make me want some messiness. Sometimes its too clinical, too seperated and detached. It can be a tad-off putting, makes it hard to engage with. On the whole, plot and character wise, there's not much to say, as not much happened really. I am wondering where you're going with this though.

Luck.

- SJ

Hello Jared, you ask, I deliver.

East Bristol had never been quieter. Perhaps it was an omen, maybe even a warning. Clair Stowe mulled over it frequently in the later years to come.

Maybe state the specific day that it had occurred. As you are using the word "it", you are designating at a specific point in time.

What if this little infant was destined for greater things than she could ever have imagined? Wasn’t that like the Christ child?

Why not show this infant first hand? It seems random at first asking rhetorical questions about someone that the reader hasn't associated with yet.

There were tears glimmering in what little light they could catch from the shimmering candlelight, placed on the table next to the wooden chair Clair was resting on.

Auk. I think that firstly, it's redundant to describe something so minuscule. It doesn't really drive the story forward in any form. Secondly, do tears glimmer? Not really. It's actually quite hard to notice.
Thirdly, the word "shimmering" is such an overused word to describe the behavior of light. I would personally nix it and just go straight to the point.

The infant was asleep; she hadn’t woken up since she had been born. Clair’s sister, the mother of the newborn, lay exhausted in bed sheets in the other room. She could hear her faintly moaning in pain.

How do these ideas link up?

Clair fought tears back, knowing there was nothing she could do for her sister but pray.

What can't Clair do? Make that clear from the start. It seems so awkward telling the audience that she can't do anything to help when we are unable to see the conflict at hand.

It was like trying to make a drop of water stay on a pinhead: almost impossible.

This simile is not effective. What does pinheads have to do with someone crying? If you are using a simile, it should draw parallels with the context of the narrative so that it doesn't seem random. While I'm at it, I think you've played too much emphasis on the action of someone crying, causing the actual emotion that should be happening seem sterile and forced. When a person cries, it releases quite a lot of emotions that one has built inside. So when you keep referring to it throughout your piece, we the audience actually question the validity of the character's crying.

Clair bit her bottom lip and gulped, trying to hold back her emotions.

Show it. Does she twiddle her fingers? Does she cover her face up with her hands?

The baby stirred again and squinted its eyes open. Rose’s lips parted slightly.

Man don't you get tired of mentioning about the baby's stirring?

“She knows her mother!” she stated, breathlessly.

The mother believes that her baby recognizes her simply from that? The baby could had done that to just about anyone else you know.

“Clair… Clair, where are you?” Rose whispered, her voice becoming urgent. Clair blinked and reached out to touch her sister’s clammy hand.

“I’m here right here,” she said.

“Where? I—I don’t see anything! Clair…” Rose was staring off into the distance with unseeing eyes. Clair’s heart froze over into an icicle, like the ones growing from the roof of the small five-roomed house she was currently residing in.

Add some narration here. Explain what's going on.

“I’m right here!” Clair said, pleading with her eyes. “Rose, look at me! Rose!”

“I—everything is black. Clair, I’m scared!”

“Listen to my voice. Follow it. Can you feel me touching your hand?”

It seems as though they know this was going to happen. I would probably alter the dialogue so there’s some sense of doubt and fear. Let's face it, going blind like that in just a snap of a finger must be rather scary no?

“There’s an angel standing in front of me. He’s come to rescue me,” Rose said and died. Clair shivered and put her arm over her sister’s pale face, and the baby began to scream.

Oh so she just died like that and it’s all hunky dorey? Clair doesn’t even seem to care that her sister had just died.

Overall impressions:

It’s rather sketchy and awkward. I really recommend that you actually define more of the cult/ religion that the two sisters follow as well as the town itself right at the start of the piece. You need to establish a foundation for your readers so that they have an idea of what’s happening. Even after reading this, the motivations behind their actions are quite vague.

You also need to use your descriptions with more of a purpose in mind. Descriptions should be used as a way to get a better understanding of a certain area. It would have been better if you had shown us more of what their place looked like. I assume that they were either Christian or Catholic since you mentioned “The Star that showed the way to Jesus.” Why not show us as to why the main character has such a strange belief? Show the incense, candles, crucifixes, portraits of Saints Etc to convince us that they are religious people/ cult members?

I’m afraid that I can’t go too deeply into this piece until I have a better understanding of where this is heading. It has potential, but you need to lay in more of the ground work. It’s your job to do that.

Good luck.

Andy.

“Clair… Clair, where are you?” Rose whispered, her voice becoming urgent. Clair blinked and reached out to touch her sister’s clammy hand.

“I’m here right here,” she said.

“Where? I—I don’t see anything! Clair…” Rose was staring off into the distance with unseeing eyes. Clair’s heart froze over into an icicle, like the ones growing from the roof of the small five-roomed house she was currently residing in.

“I’m right here!” Clair said, pleading with her eyes. “Rose, look at me! Rose!”

“I—everything is black. Clair, I’m scared!”

“Listen to my voice. Follow it. Can you feel me touching your hand?”

Rose paused, frightened. “You’re touching my hand?”

Cliche, in my opinion. Sometimes a cliche works to your advantage, but not here--here it reads like a soap opera. Death scenes are frequently over-dramatized...maybe you should tone it down a little.

“There’s an angel standing in front of me. He’s come to rescue me,” Rose said and died.

Far too quick--for the drama of the previous portion, her death is very anti-climactic. We need a reaction from her sister, first and foremost. You might also go with a bit more description of the death, and the immediate aftermath of her death.

I also think the piece could benefit from a thorough dose of description, throughout. Show, not tell, and that jazz.

Very nice, conceptually--now execute.

--D

Jared -

Well, there isn't much left to critique after Jig and Squall. They hardly left me anything. But what they did address and tear apart is completely justified. Listen to them. Jiggity especially. He pointed out everything that I would have pointed out.

East Bristol had never been quieter. Perhaps it was an omen, maybe even a warning. Clair Stowe mulled over it frequently in the later years to come. What if this little infant was destined for greater things than she could ever have imagined? Wasn’t that like the Christ child? Clair thought about how the star had shown so brightly on that night. That was a sign. What if the silence of the night meant that the infant girl nested in her arms was to become great?

The first sentence is good, and I assumed that East Bristol is a place. I also assumed you would continue describing the place, or the setting, for more than another two vague sentences. Instead, you jumped right to describing this kid, which led me to think that East Bristol was the name of the kid. I thought that a name like that was pretty cool and contunued to read. And then you addressed the night, or the place, again, and I realized that East Bristol is still just a place. A tad confusing. Consider sweeping that up.

I don't have much else. The end was pretty over-dramatized like Buscador said and the closing sentence was really abrupt, so consider looking over those things. It would be hard to write something like this, so I can sympathize. It would be hard to write a scene that a million movies have already done in the past. But, chin up. Editing is wonderful.

-Kylan

(PS: Sorry if that was kind of scattered. I'm a bit under the weather today.)

Hiya, Baer Boy! I'm back in business! =D

Seeing as a bunch of people got here before me, this critique might be a little weak. However, I'll give you what I can. I'll probably skip most, if not all, the grammar/spelling stuff and trust that the others got them before me. ^^

Death Has Never Been So Wonderful

As everyone has said before me, the death scene was very abrupt. Here's a challenge for you: Describe the death scene without using the word death, dead, or died, etc. Not only does this encourage description, but it provides a stronger vocabulary. So! Win-win situation. Try doing that and see what you come up with.

Also, when Rose went blind... well, I thought she went blind. I was like... what? I'm not sure, but when you die, do you lose your senses before your strength? She's holding a baby, so she has strength enough to hold that thing to her chest, and yet she loses all senses? I'm unsure about that. And yeah, Claire didn't have enough emotion. Gimme some tears, shouting--something. Have her rescue the baby from rolling out of Rose's arms. Don't let her just stand there.

It Was The Night Before Birthmas...

...And all through the town, not a person was stirring--'cept the three in the house. Gimme more description. Combining Kylan and Andy at this point, describe the setting more. Are there wealthy and poor, or is it a town or peasants? Are all the buildings small and wooden, or are there some brick houses? Is it snowing outside, or is it a warm summer's night? Bring the reader into the story. Give me the season/weather, the time period [not directly, of course, but through description]. Liven it up some. Make the story breathe.

So... What's Up?

We have a mom in bed. Makes sense.

We got the aunt holding the baby. Mkays.

Where'd Daddy go? You mention the baby will never see Daddy again. I'm assuming Daddy just walked away... but he doesn't want to see Mommy go bye-bye? I'm a little worried for the parents' relationship and the child's well-being... But OK! =D

To Prologue Or Not To Prologue? That Is The Question!

And I'm thinking this should go prologue, assuming Aly is going to be older in the next chapter (and I only assume because I've read the original draft). Since this part is in the future and before anything happened, make it a prologue; and if this has nothing to do with the plot of the story, then don't have it here. However, I'm going to assume it does, so consider making this a prologue. I've always been iffy about prologues 'cause once I tried a prologue, and someone said it wasn't a prologue at all and I thought it was. But! I saw this site and I'm thinking this qualifies for a prologue? I dunno.

This is strictly an opinionated part of the critique. ^^

Overall, I'm Thinking...

This is in pretty good shape, actually. This is Baer writing, so I think it's pretty good considering! It's your usual comments, really. Exercise your description skills. Make sure the reader, an alien visiting a new world, understands your story when they read it. *nods*

I hope I helped some. If any questions, you know where to drag me. I apologize if I was unhelpful. I'm rusty. >< And late, but rusty. ><

Keep writing!

Jabber, the One and Only!

**Edit!: This was definitely an improvement from the Prime Minister thing you started with. I was/am very pleased. ^_^

Hi Bear! Sorry it took so long to get around to this. I was preoccupied with some other stuff. But here I am now, ready to look it over!

There were tears glimmering in what little light they could catch from the shimmering candlelight, placed on the table next to the wooden chair Clair was resting on.

This was a particularly beautiful sentence to me. I just felt like pointing that out.

Well, overall, I did like this section of the story. Being introduced to Clair for the first time was done very well, and I got a good feel for her character. The musing at the beginning seemed a little overdone, you might consider trimming it down as I feel it weighs down this essential first part. The death scene also seemed to be a little, oh, what am I trying to say? Cliche, there we go. It seemed to be just like almost every other bedside death scene. If you could perhaps do something to make it a little more unique, that would be good. After all, this is the mother of a baby that is expected to be great, according to you, and the sister of the main character. Her death should be more significant than you're making it out to be.

Yet, despite what I found wrong, I really did like this part of the story. It's shaping up to be something I could really get into. I'll get to part two soon, promise. Good job!