Broken Vow; Ch. 1

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Chapter One: One year previous…

“…Back to the street, back to the place
Back to the room where it all began
Back to the room where it all began
Cause it's nine in the afternoon…”

- Nine in the Afternoon By: Panic! At the Disco




Michael

The sun felt closer than normal, beating down with a brazen fury. Beams of light struck out backsides and made our shirts cling to us like a second skin. My brow dripped with fresh perspiration and my shoulders were slowly tensing the longer I worked.
Jax, beside me, seemed oblivious to nature’s form of torture. He was merrily working away, lost in his own world. Sometimes I wished I were as innocent as Jax. Many would find this to be absurd, as most people would never wish to be deaf. But Jax was perfectly content in his condition. He never once expressed his anger at others for his defect, or shouted out that he wished he were different. No, Jax liked who he was. For a seventeen-year-old, that was saying something. What teenager would ever admit that they were content with themselves and didn’t care what other’s thought?
Sighing, I returned back to the plot, concentrating on shoveling the soil as best as I could, praying that Vince’s mom wouldn’t make us do it over again if she found it unsatisfactory. As my shovel dug deep into the earth, I felt a sudden tightness to my chest. Realizing that I must be pushing myself too hard, I paused for a moment, frowning slightly at the increasing pressure. But then, as soon as it appeared, it was gone. Shrugging, assessing that it must be heartburn, I pushed my shovel back into the dirt.
Peeking upward, I spotted Vince’s backside upright, his shovel propped up against his hip. He had turned his baseball cap backward, strands of unruly blond curls peeking out from underneath the fabric. Curious, I straightened as well, following his eyes to where they were positioned on.
Smirking, I caught sight of a female figure approaching. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was. From the blatant red hair and smooth trot, it was none other than Dani Jacobs, Jax’s cousin.
“Hey, boys. I decided to stop by and drop off some sweets as Jax here told me about you guys working out here on the Greggor’s land.” Her accent was pure southern sweetness, something that most girls tired a lifetime to perfect. She was nearing twenty, with a wise glint in her eye that held all the secrets that college contained.
“Howdy, Miss Jacobs. Fine day we’re having,” Vince drawled, emphasizing every southern twang.
Dani laughed. “You keep perfecting that accent, Vince, and someday you may accomplish actually sounding like a southern gentleman.” With another chuckle that rang wholesomely in all our ears, she entered the small clapboard house, disappearing from sight.
Vince let out a low, soft whistle. “Dang, Dani sure cleans up nice, don’t she?”
Jax, who had been watching the exchange intently, reading lips, he nodded with a wide smile. Hand-signaling to us, we were able to pick up on what he meant to say.
I laughed at Jax’s statement. “I bet, Jax. Such a pretty face wouldn’t stay single for long.”
Vince looked downright cross after Jax informed him of Dani’s new boyfriend. “Well, that figures,” he grumbled to himself before returning to shifting the soil in the garden for his mother.

Rochelle

My pace was brisk as I made my way to my car late in the afternoon, struggling to find my keys that I knew to be buried in the depths of my purse. But instead of finding the ignition starter to my car, I discovered a pack of unopened gum and some napkins left over from my late night fast-food stop on the way home from the movie with Christie.
Practically growling with frustration, I slammed my purse onto the roof of my car and proceeded to take a deep breath. Senior year sure wasn’t all that it was made to appear. I had always laughed at everyone on television when they depicted teenagers stressing over whether they have enough volunteer time or if they should take more college courses. I always used to tell myself that that would never be me. I would be prepared, organized, as I usually am.
But now, with two-thirds of the year over, I feel my stress levels beginning to near their boiling points. With only one volunteer position to my name, and that I am no longer in sports basically cuts my chances of getting into the college of my choice in half. If that’s enough, my classes have become almost unbearable and all my teachers seem to have it out for me.
Christie’s voice rings in my ears, breaking into my thoughts. Just last night, she had told me to stop fretting and get back to being a teenager. I had laughed at her, but now that I think back, I have been being kind of a tense lately.
Removing my purse from the roof, I continue the search for my keys. Before I can locate them, however, my cell phone goes off. The caller ID states that it’s my sister, Dani, calling.
“’Ello?” I say into the mouthpiece, still searching with one hand for my keys.
“Ellie?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, slightly irritated by Dani’s frantic tone. She normally would call me like this, panicking about something that really wasn’t anything to panic about; for example, misplacing her favorite lip gloss. “What is it? I’m kind of running behind for work.”
“I think work can wait. I need you to meet me at the hospital. Now.”
“What?” Her words stopped me in my tracks. What did she just say?
“Just get here.”
“Why? What’s going on? What happened?”
There was a pause on the other end, then:
“It’s Michael.”
"Woe to the man whose heart has not learned while young to hope, to love—and to put his trust in life."
~ Joseph Conrad


"Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."
~ Red Auerbach




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Hey Ash, thanks for the heads up!!

First off, I already love this because of the song you have in the beginning. Panic at the Disco is one of my favorite bands and this is just one of the greatest songs ever! *dances*

Anywho, on to the critique. I only found two things that could be fixed:

Shrugging, assessing that it must be heartburn, I pushed my shovel back into the dirt.


The double -ing sounded weird when read aloud. I would try " I shrugged, assessing that it must (I think might would sound better) be heartburn, and then, pushed my shovel back into the dirt."
I had laughed at her, but now that I think back, I have been being kind of a tense lately.


Nix that 'a'

All in all, I enjoyed this and your imagery, as always was great. I especially like how both the characters are different but then you hint at the end that they share some type of connection. This is really good and I hope you keep going with this.

Cheers!

~Angel
True love, in all it’s celestial charm, and
star-crossed ways, only exist in a writer’s
mind, for humans have not yet learned
how to manifest it.




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Beams of light struck out backsides and made our shirts cling to us like a second skin.

"Struck out" is weird wording combined with the rest. Rework.

Her accent was pure southern sweetness, something that most girls tired a lifetime to perfect.

Tried, not tired. Just a typo.

Some of the wording was awkward, but I don't feel a need to point those out right now, because I want to see if you finish this one. Then after you've printed it out for me I'll do a detailed critique on it.

As to whether I liked this or not, I thought it was a little abrupt. We just got introduced to Michael, and I actually did like that intro to all your characters, but then when he was in an accident, I didn't really care, because I don't know him that well yet. Also, you move too fast with Ellie. Take some time, slow down.

Got to go. Hope to hear from you tonight, Ash.




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i could practically hear the southern accent on each of them.

I like the little detials that make them their own person.

i looking forward to read the other chapters.
"I love you," she whispered in his ear, before taking his mouth with her own.

~Elizzabeth Grey of Addicting Posion




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Hey Ashley! Here to review draft two!
ashleylee wrote:Chapter One: One year previous…

“…Back to the street, back to the place
Back to the room where it all began
Back to the room where it all began
Cause it's nine in the afternoon…”

- Nine in the Afternoon By: Panic! At the Disco
Good quote!



Michael

The sun [s]felt closer than normal,[/s] beat [s]beating[/s] down with a brazen fury on the streets below. Beams of light struck our[s]t[/s] backsides; [s]and made [/s]our shirts clinging to us like a second skin. My brow dripped with fresh perspiration and my shoulders grew more tense under the weight of the shovel[s]were slowly tensing the longer I worked[/s]. Okay, I edited a lot here because I'm trying to get you to show us more! Describe, describe, describe, without telling us what's going on. Make sense?
Jax, beside me, seemed oblivious to nature’s form of torture. He was merrily working away, lost in his own world Cliche, find another way to say it . [s]Sometimes I wished I were as innocent as Jax.[/s] Too telling. Show us instead Many would find my want to be like him[s]this[/s] [s]to be [/s]absurd, as most people would never wish to be deaf. But Jax was perfectly content in his condition. He never once expressed his anger at others for his defect, or shouted out that he wished he were different. No, Jax liked who he was. For a seventeen-year-old, that said [s]was saying [/s]something. What teenager would ever admit that they were content with themselves and didn’t care what other[s]’[/s]s thought of them?
Sighing, I returned back to the plot, concentrating on shoveling the soil as best as I could, praying that Vince’s mom wouldn’t make us do it over again if she found it unsatisfactory. As my shovel dug deep into the earth, I felt a sudden tightness to my chest. Realizing that I must be pushing myself too hard, I paused for a moment, frowning slightly at the increasing pressure. But then, as soon as it appeared, it was gone. Shrugging, [s]assessing that it must be heartburn[/s], I pushed my shovel back into the dirt.
Peeking upward, I spotted Vince’s backside upright, his shovel propped up against his hip. He had turned his baseball cap backward, strands of unruly blond curls peeking out from underneath the fabric. Curious, I straightened as well, following the direction of his gaze his eyes [s]to where they were positioned on[/s].
Smirking, I caught sight of a female figure approaching. [s]It wasn’t hard to guess who it was.[/s] This is a very telling line. try to get rid of these types of sentences From the blatant red hair and smooth trot, it was none other than Dani Jacobs, Jax’s cousin.
“Hey, boys. I decided to stop by and drop off some sweets [s]as Jax here told me about you guys working out here on the Greggor’s land[/s].” Her accent was pure southern sweetness, something that most girls tried [s]tired[/s] a lifetime to perfect. She was nearing twenty, with a wise glint in her eye that held all the secrets that college contained.
“Howdy, Miss Jacobs. Fine day we’re having,” Vince drawled, emphasizing every southern twang.
Dani laughed. “You keep perfecting that accent, Vince, and someday you may accomplish actually sounding like a southern gentleman.” With another chuckle that rang wholesomely in all our ears, she entered the small clapboard house, disappearing from sight.
Vince let out a low, soft whistle. “Dang, Dani sure cleans up nice, don’t she?”
Jax, who had been watching the exchange intently, reading lips, he nodded with a wide smile. Hand-signaling to us, we were able to pick up on what he meant to say. Again, show us instead of telling us I laughed [s]at Jax’s statement[/s]. “I bet, Jax. Such a pretty face wouldn’t stay single for long.”
Vince looked downright cross after Jax informed him of Dani’s new boyfriend. “Well, that figures,” he grumbled to himself before returning to shifting the soil in the garden for his mother.

Rochelle

My pace was brisk as I made my way to my car late in the afternoon, struggling to find my keys that I knew to be buried in the depths of my purse. But instead of finding the ignition starter Awkward, find another word to my car, I discovered a pack of unopened gum and some napkins left over from my late night fast-food stop [s]on the way home from the movie with Christie[/s].
Practically growling with frustration, I slammed my purse onto the roof of my car and proceeded to take a deep breath. Senior year sure wasn’t all that it was made to appear. I had always laughed at everyone on television when they depicted teenagers stressing over whether they have enough volunteer time or if they should take more college courses. I always used to tell myself that that would never be me. I would be prepared, organized, as I usually am.
But now, with two-thirds of the year over, I feel my stress levels beginning to near their boiling points. With only one volunteer position to my name, and that I am no longer in sports basically cuts my chances of getting into the college of my choice in half. If that’s enough, my classes have become almost unbearable and all my teachers seem to have it out for me.
Christie’s voice rings in my ears, breaking into my thoughts. Just last night, she had told me to stop fretting and get back to being a teenager. I had laughed at her, but now that I think back, I have been being kind of a tense lately.
Removing my purse from the roof, I continue the search for my keys. Before I can locate them, however, my cell phone goes off. The caller ID states that it’s my sister, Dani, calling.
“’Ello?” I say into the mouthpiece, still searching with one hand for my keys.
“Ellie?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, slightly irritated by Dani’s frantic tone. She normally would call me like this, panicking about something that really wasn’t anything to panic about; for example, misplacing her favorite lip gloss. “What is it? I’m kind of running behind for work.”
“I think work can wait. I need you to meet me at the hospital. Now.”
“What?” Her words stopped me in my tracks. [s]What did she just say?[/s]
“Just get here.”
“Why? What’s going on? What happened?”
There was a pause on the other end, then:
“It’s Michael.”


This is a lot better than before! Since it's early in the plot, I can't really judge characters or anything yet. I would recommend you look through the entire piece and try to show us actions, emotions, etc. wihtout telling us. I pointed out a couple of trouble spots, but look around to see if there are any I missed!

PM me with questions!



cron
Daddy Long Legs are more closely related to crabs than spiders and somehow the idea of crablike creatures with spider legs that have escaped the entrappings of the primordial sea and now crawl over land and can walk up and down walls and ceilings creeps me more than I can adequately describe.
— Snoink