Split personalities 2.1

PLEASE REVIEW!!! RIP IT TO SHREADS PLEASE!!

All reviews welcome. chapter 1 and prologue availible Here:
Prologue
Chapter 1 part 1
Chapter 1 part 2
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The crunch of impact sounded strange. Without the continuous echoes of my every move, the world sounded eerily quiet. As I choked on the raiding dirt, I hastily looked around at the environment. Like a hero rising out of the mist, I took several steps forward, but ruined the scene by coughing the last dregs of dirt from my lungs.

I was indeed in a construction site, and judging by the position of the sun and the silent atmosphere, it was just past home time. I looked back at the strange pipe, and saw that it was rusted and upturned, clearly not in use anymore.

What now? I was as shocked by my appearance as I was confused by my location. I asked the question regardless, knowing that I would get an answer, but not really intent on what she would say.
Get out! Stay low and keep away from the police. If anyone looks at you for more than a second, duck into the nearest shop and sneak out the back.
Why? I asked, perplexed at the evasive action I was being told to take. Her hasty reply came as a shock to me as always, but this time it seemed more urgent, more life and death. When no reply came, I set out on making my way through the deserted construction site.
The machines rose up from piles of dirt and, mixed with the fast disappearing light it created the peculiar scenery of a ghost town. Looking for nothing in particular, I wandered through the deserted site and sighted the exit.

Well that’s great, now I have to do what she says!
As I headed for the exit, a glint of sunshine made its way to my eye at a unique angle. Curious, I ran through the wreckage to investigate what I found was my reflection.

Man, am I tattered! I inspected myself at every angle in the warped mirror, which was the side of a brand new bulldozer, only covered in mere day’s worth of muck.

I was indeed wearing night stealth clothes, track pants and a breathable top. I ran my hands through my dark brown hair, and commented to myself on how it all fit the spy régime. Next I ran my fingers over my pale face, jumping over my bushy eyebrows, past my hazel eyes and down to my square jaw. As I did so, I speculated at how unreal this seemed.

Next was my body. I had scrawny but well defined arms, built up legs and a flat stomach. Whoever I was, my daily schedule required an amount of physical exertion that it seemed no teenage girl would do without reason.

The whole experience gave me a tingling sensation. To anyone else, I would look like a mental patient escaped from solitary confinement, an adolescent examining herself in a building spot, no less. But to me, this was like a baby taking her first steps, or a kitten opening their eyes for the first time. I finally had some clue to who I was, and I felt as if this was the first step to recovering my identity.
What are you doing? Get out of here now, before someone realizes what you have done!

I had a terrible pain in my gut, at being torn away from my past self, I felt as if I stayed there longer it would all come clear. I knew that I would not be able to disobey the voice within me, that she was ordering me around like a madman for my own good. I lacked information to go into the world unprepared, and she was my own guidebook into the unknown. I wondered around the camp until I reached a barbed-wire fence, and chose to go left.

I soon found the exit, and wandered on to the deserted streets. Somehow I knew my way, I probably just remembered running terrified through these streets away from whoever was perusing me. I already knew that I was running away from someone, that much was evident with what little pieces of the puzzle I had. I decided to try my luck on the main street, whatever my conscience told me. As I passed through the streets I saw a clutter of prepubescent females pushing their way through the crowd.

Was I ever like that? Probably not, a teenager of my stature would take years to build up, clearly not a spur of the moment thing. The girls were mesmerizing, they moved with just the grace of a swan, but glided effortlessly through the crowd. I figured that I never would’ve been anywhere near their ranking in the high school pyramid. Socializing just wouldn’t cut it for me. I had to be at home; that was if I had one, reading a book. I knew this, but not much else. When you have time to mull things over in your head, you think about these things quite a lot, even though you thought that you had no clue. I dug my hands onto my pockets and felt them brush over something plastic, but sort of papery.

Following the clump out of pure interest, I reflected on how odd this situation seemed. A mid teen girl, waking up in a pipe with a voice in her head telling her what to do, she goes onto the main street, and decides, for no real reason whatsoever, to follow a bundle of girls years younger than her. How odd indeed. They led me to the main street, just as I had expected they would.

The atmosphere here was much more inviting. There were many cars trapped on the road, but despite their attempts to spoil the warm air, they did nothing. Wonderful aromas wafted through the air towards me, and I found my head torn in all possible directions, looking like a dog, nose in the air and experiencing the smells for the first time. I followed my senses until I found myself outside a small kiosk that read Mrs. Higgins. The delicious fragrance was too tantalizing to resist, as I realized that it was a cookie shop.

As soon as the first thought of food was in my head, it was like a cell, dividing and replicating, spawning until the magnificent perfume, the smell so close and so fresh that I could almost taste it, was mother to so many thoughts that I wasn’t able to think. I was almost on automatic now. Instinctively pulling out the plastic note from my pocket, and waltzing up to the counter and shoving it in the face of the salesperson.

Not even bothering to look, I pointed to the closest cookie and waited for the deliciousness to be handed to me. I know that it was irresponsible to be spending my money on something so small, but the wafting bouquet was too hard to resist. I decided to spend my change on a pie, from a restaurant that I sighted only a block or so down the road.

I felt the cool texture of more money being passed over the counter, and the crinkle of the bag was soon to follow, but just as the brown paper was skimming my fingertips, I heard her again.

Get out, get out NOW!

I automatically cringed upon the haste, and found my hand closing around the change and my legs springing into action.

No, I’m starving, let me go. I know it sounds like an odd thing to say to myself, but that’s what I said, and it was really the best I could think of.

The next few seconds of my life were terrible. It was like watching a horror movie, while you are screaming at the main character; you can’t do anything about it. It felt like that now. My body was on automatic, but the gear stick was stuck, and I couldn’t get out of the door.

My hand was drawn down to my hips, and the change shoved into my pocket. All the while, I was willing myself to go back and get the sweet treat. My legs uncoiled and I sprung out of the crowd, took three steps across the two-lane road and ducked into the nearest shop.

GET OUT! I yelled at the imposer, and I felt control return.

I walked to the window, and immediately sulked back into the shadowy depths of the store. One glance was all it took for me to gather all of the information I needed. I ducked into the changing rooms and mulled it over in my head.

As my heart rate reached normal, the scene played itself over. Two men it particularly business looking suits weaved their way through the weekend shoppers. The kiosk lady was shouting across the street at the shop that I had unwillingly used as cover. I gasped in terror as one of the workers glanced in my direction, and then the other. They got what they were looking for and moved across the road, changing direction. The glass suddenly felt cold against my placid skin. The incessant humming of the shop music was doused over by a loud thumping in my ear. I felt my face drain of all color and left the window immediately.

What now? I was as shocked by my appearance as I was confused by my location.

Her appearance? When I read it, I immediately assumed she was talking about how she looked, but she didn't see herself until a paragraph later. I don't think you need this part of the line, even if you are talking about the other appearance. It's too confusing and doesn't add to the sentence.

As soon as the first thought of food was in my head, it was like a cell, dividing and replicating, spawning until the magnificent perfume, the smell so close and so fresh that I could almost taste it, was mother to so many thoughts that I wasn’t able to think.

Woah! Monster sentence! And it took me a few goes to actually see what you meant, which is a shame, as I like the cell replication analogy.
Break it up a little, rearrange so it makes sense.
As soon as the first thought of food was in my head, borne on a heavenly smell of cookies, it was like a cell dividing and replicating. The smell was so fresh and close I could almost taste it, teasing my senses until I was unable to think anything but cookie.

Instinctively pulling out the plastic note from my pocket, and waltzing up to the counter and shoving it in the face of the salesperson.

If you read this, you'll see it doesn't quite seem right? you don't need the first 'and', for a start. Replace it with 'I'. The rest of this sentence needs to be in past tense.

Instinctively pulling out the plastic note from my pocket, I waltzed up to the counter and shoved it under the face of the salesperson.

It felt like that now.

now should be then, as you are talking past tense.

The glass suddenly felt cold against my placid skin. The incessant humming of the shop music was doused over by a loud thumping in my ear. I felt my face drain of all color and left the window immediately.

Wasn't she in the dressing rooms? When did she go to the window? For a moment I thought it was the scene being replayed, but that doesn't make sense either. :/ Look it over, and clarify.

Overall, this is becoming more interesting. Just be wary of keeping your reader too in the dark, too much confusion and mystery and your reader will be put off. To be honest, I'm a little confused to what happened in the first two parts in comparison to these two parts. But with a little refining, this could be quite intriguing. Keep it up.

-Nutty

Thanks Nutty!

asxz wrote:
The crunch of impact sounded strange. Without the continuous echoes of my every move, the world sounded eerily quiet. As I choked on the raiding dirt, I hastily looked around at the environment. Like a hero rising out of the mist, I took several steps forward, but ruined the scene by coughing the last dregs of dirt from my lungs.

I was [s]indeed[/s] in a construction site, and judging by the position of the sun and the silent atmosphere, it was just past home time (What does this mean?). I looked back at the strange pipe, and saw that it was rusted and upturned, clearly not in use anymore.

What now? I was as shocked by my appearance as I was confused by my location. As someone else mentioned, they haven't seen their appearance yet. I asked the question regardless, knowing that I would get an answer, but not really intent on what she would say.
Get out! Stay low and keep away from the police. If anyone looks at you for more than a second, duck into the nearest shop and sneak out the back.
Why? I asked, perplexed at the evasive action I was being told to take. Her hasty reply came as a shock to me as always (put a comma before 'as', methinks), but this time it seemed more urgent, more life [s]and[/s] or death. When no reply came, I set out on making my way through the deserted construction site.
The machines rose up from piles of dirt and, mixed with the fast disappearing light it created the peculiar scenery of a ghost town. Looking for nothing in particular, I wandered through the deserted site and sighted (spotted, I'd say, just because you have 'site' earlier) the exit.

Well that’s great, now I have to do what she says!
As I headed for the exit, a glint of sunshine made its way to my eye at a unique angle. Curious, I ran through the wreckage to investigate what I found was my reflection.

Man, am I tattered! I inspected myself at every angle in the warped mirror, which was the side (Size? On the side?)of a brand new bulldozer, only covered in mere day’s worth of muck.

I was [s]indeed[/s] wearing night stealth clothes, track pants and a breathable top. I ran my hands through my dark brown hair, and commented to myself on how it all fit the spy régime. Next I ran my fingers over my pale face, jumping over my bushy eyebrows, past my hazel eyes and down to my square jaw. As I did so, I speculated at how unreal this seemed.

Next was my body. I had scrawny but well defined arms, built up legs and a flat stomach. Whoever I was, my daily schedule required an amount of physical exertion that it seemed no teenage girl would do without reason.

The whole experience gave me a tingling sensation. To anyone else, I would look like a mental patient escaped from solitary confinement, an adolescent examining herself in a building spot, no less. But to me, this was like a baby taking her first steps, or a kitten opening their eyes for the first time. I finally had some clue to who I was, and I felt as if this was the first step to recovering my identity.
What are you doing? Get out of here now, before someone realizes what you have done!

I had a terrible pain in my gut, at being torn away from my past self, I felt as if I stayed there longer it would all come clear. I knew that I would not be able to disobey the voice within me, that she was ordering me around like a madman for my own good. I lacked information to go into the world unprepared, and she was my own very guidebook into the unknown. I wondered around the camp until I reached a barbed-wire fence, and chose to go left.

I soon found the exit, and wandered on to the deserted streets. Somehow I knew my way, (semi-colon here) I probably just remembered running terrified through these streets away from whoever was perusing me. I already knew that I was running away from someone, (semi-colon here, too) that much was evident with what little pieces of the puzzle I had. I decided to try my luck on the main street, whatever my conscience told me. As I passed through the streets I saw a clutter of prepubescent females pushing their way through the crowd.

Was I ever like that? Probably not, a teenager of my stature would take years to build up, clearly not a spur of the moment thing. The girls were mesmerizing, they moved with just the grace of a swan, but glided effortlessly through the crowd. I figured that I never would’ve been anywhere near their ranking in the high school pyramid. Socializing just wouldn’t cut it for me. I had to be at home; that was if I had one, reading a book. I knew this, but not much else. When you have time to mull things over in your head, you think about these things quite a lot, even though you thought that you had no clue. I dug my hands onto my pockets and felt them brush over something plastic, but sort of papery.

Following the clump out of pure interest, I reflected on how odd this situation seemed. A mid teen girl, waking up in a pipe with a voice in her head telling her what to do, [s]she[/s] goes onto the main street, and decides, for no real reason whatsoever, to follow a bundle of girls years younger than her. How odd indeed. They led me to the main street, just as I had expected they would.

The atmosphere here was much more inviting. There were many cars trapped on the road, but despite their attempts to spoil the warm air, they did nothing. Wonderful aromas wafted through the air towards me, and I found my head torn in all possible directions, looking like a dog, nose in the air and experiencing the smells for the first time. I followed my senses until I found myself outside a small kiosk that read Mrs. Higgins. The delicious fragrance was too tantalizing to resist, [s]as[/s] and I realized that it was a cookie shop.

As soon as the first thought of food was in my head, it was like a cell, dividing and replicating, spawning until the magnificent perfume, the smell so close and so fresh that I could almost taste it, was mother to so many thoughts that I wasn’t able to think. (See Nutty's comments here.) I was almost on automatic now. Instinctively pulling out the plastic note from my pocket, and waltzing up to the counter and shoving it in the face of the salesperson.

Not even bothering to look, I pointed to the closest cookie and waited for the deliciousness to be handed to me. I know that it was irresponsible to be spending my money on something so small, but the wafting bouquet (not sure 'boquet' is the word you're looking for here) was too hard to resist. I decided to spend my change on a pie, from a restaurant that I sighted only a block or so down the road.

I felt the cool texture of more money being passed over the counter, and the crinkle of the bag was soon to follow, but just as the brown paper was skimming my fingertips, I heard her again.

Get out, get out NOW!

I automatically cringed [s]upon[/s] at the haste, and found my hand closing around the change and my legs springing into action.

No, I’m starving, let me go. I know it sounds like an odd thing to say to myself (but it's not to herself, is it? No. It's to the voice in her head) , but that’s what I said, and it was really the best I could think of.

The next few seconds [s]of my life[/s] were terrible. It was like watching a horror movie, when while you are screaming at the main character; (comma) you can’t do anything about it. [s]It felt like that now. [/s]My body was on automatic, but the gear stick was stuck, and I couldn’t get out of the door. Gear stick? What gear stick? Is she in a car? Since when?

My hand was drawn down to my hips, and the change shoved into my pocket. All the while, I was willing myself to go back and get the sweet treat. My legs uncoiled and I sprung out of the crowd, took three steps across the two-lane road and ducked into the nearest shop.

GET OUT! I yelled at the imposer, and I felt control return.

I walked to the window, and immediately sulked back into the shadowy depths of the store. One glance was all it took for me to gather all of the information I needed. I ducked into the changing rooms and mulled it over in my head.

As my heart rate reached normal, the scene played itself over. Two men it particularly business looking suits weaved their way through the weekend shoppers. The kiosk lady was shouting across the street at the shop that I had unwillingly used as cover. I gasped in terror as one of the workers glanced in my direction, and then the other. They got what they were looking for and moved across the road, changing direction. The glass suddenly felt cold against my placid skin. The incessant humming of the shop music was doused over by a loud thumping in my ear. I felt my face drain of all color and left the window immediately.

Confusion factor: 9

So, I'm really liking where you're headed with this story so far. It's interesting. Honestly. But, as I've said, and as all of your other reviewers have said, you need to slow down for a second and figure out what's going on.

So, towards the end, this is what I'm getting: the voice in MC's head tells her to hide and get away, but she wants to get a cookie instead. So, while she does, the voice yells at her and starts controlling her body without her permission? If so, you need to make it more apparent that your MC has no idea what she's goind-- that all this ducking, all this running is against her will. I couldn't really tell she was being controlled until the 'unwillingly' that ou stuck in there somewhere.

And then, where does she go? You say she ducks into changing rooms, but in a changing room she wouldn't be able to see workers glance in her direction or see them walk towards her. Her view would be obstructed by the door/curtain of the changing room. But then, you say she feels glass and leaves the window immediately. Since when was she at a window? You said she ducked into a changing room?!

See what I mean? We're having to work too hard to keep up, and we're doing some major deciphering as to what's going on. I suggest taking a deep breath and reading this with a blank mind, focusing on the words you've written instead of what you know is about to happen. Then, you should realize that this all isn't making together. It isn't flowing together seamlessly, which it should.

But, no worries! It won't take too much effort, I'm sure. You've got a nice stroyline here, and you've got me interested. I'm sure, with just a little tweaking, we'll have the misunderstandings worked out!

Ms. Voice in her Head

Okay, when it comes to Ms. Voice, I think it's a really great concept. However, I'm getting confused as to what MC is saying to herself, what MC is saying to Ms. Voice, and what Ms. Voice is saying to MC. (MC=Main Character, just so you know.) It's all in italics, which can be confusing. I'd suggest, just to clarify, you make it so we can easily seperate MC's thoughts from Ms. Voice's instructions. You can make it so MC doesn't think when she's talking to Ms. Voice; instead, you can make it where she has to speak aloud, and put it in quotation marks. Or, you could make Ms. Voice's comments/orders in bold instead of italics, and keep MC's thoughts in italics.

Ugh. Really confusing, I know. PM me if you need me to translate this for you into something a bit more...English.

~Evi

P.S. MC needs a name, and quick. Seriously. I understand that you're trying to add to the mystery by keeping her a big secret, even to herself, but we need something to call her. The first step to relating to a person is knowing their name, and unless we can just find something to nick-name her temporarily, we'll have trouble really relating to the rest of her story. So, I'd suggest-

-- Have Ms. Voice tell her what her name is.
-- Have MC find a random piece of paper in her pocket with a word, and she decides to call herself that. **My favorire
-- Have MC bug Ms. Voice about what MC's name is until Ms. Voice gives her initials, which she is satisfied with.

Perhaps? Those are just suggestions, but I'd like a name-- even if it's something like Buttons or K.J.!

It’s me. Again. ^_^

I find it interesting how your character interacts with "herself". It’s complicated to give a voice (or thoughts) attitude, without being able to describe the person that goes with it – for the person is being told those things without being consciously aware of it. I’m curious as to how this continues, for sure, but I must admit that the thoughts are getting a bit much. Don’t overuse them, and don’t make them all snappy commands that are immediately followed by the teenage girl without really questioning it. She’ll still be asking herself where the voice comes from - she wouldn’t get used to it quite so rapidly.

I am fascinated by the concept, I must admit. Though it’s more of a schizophrenic trait to have such a voice in your head, than it is a split personality. The voice isn’t a real personality - with split personalities (the existence of which hasn't been proven) it is said that the person will have no recollection of the time the "other" person spent in control. Quite literally two different people, there.

This may not at all be what you’re looking for, but I reckon “Voices.”, or something along those lines, would be a more suitable title.

For this chapter I’m not doing a line-by-line review, no; I’ve decided that with general comments you should be able to figure out the rest yourself, especially seeing as your mistakes are recurring - punctuation, out-of-context words, etc.

If I see nitpicks in the next chapter I'll go back to a more detailed review, though.

Let's go see

XxxDo

Here, again, as requested, Asxz! ^_^

So you already of a ton of nit-pick reviews.
Instead, I'm going to simply write an overall for you.

Confusion

Like Evi said to you: slow down.
Evi basically took the words out of my mouth.
I have absolutely no idea what is happening in this story. This problem is mainly due to two things:

-- Location Issues
-- Le Mysterious Voice

Location Issues

Your character seems to constantly switch locations and do things that make absolutely no sense.

Pay close attention to Evi's commentary on the scene in the changing room. As far as I can see, your MC was never, ever by a window.

Also: Is the voice moving her against her own will?

The problem with not specifying where your character is and/or quickly changing location is that it takes the reader longer to decipher. Some may give up.

You have a lot of potential as a writer; I'm not saying you're bad. Honestly, I think this story may call for a total re-write.

Le Voice

You really need to specify:

-- Is the voice really your MC? In otherwords, is your MC simply scizhophrenic?
-- Is the voice a product of an outside place -- in otherwords, is the voice not naturally a part of your MC.

I really don't mean to sound rude, and I hope I don't, but this is just much too confuzzling.

Hope this helped,
Sakura

Hiya! Here as requested!

Alright, so nit-picks have pretty much been covered here. To focus on some overall elements:

Characters: Your MC knows way too much already. How does she know this get-up is spy-esque? Does she get s sudden return of memory? What about the training that's been drilled into her it would seem?

What about the social standing of the girls? You don't describe them other then your MC's interpretation of who they are. Actually tell us how they look before you start telling us what their standing is in high-school. And, again, how would the MC know what her standing would be in that situation?

Language: Your vocabulary is okay in this chapter; your readers aren't running to the dictionary once here. What bugs me is the amount of metaphors and similes you use in your description. One or two is good in fiction, but you use about three per paragraph.

Your prose also tends to be very poetic. In some cases, that is not a problem. However, when it comes to a spy-novel being narrated by a teenage girl who has hardly any memory in first person, poetic prose can be very unnatural. While you were describing the cookie, for example, I find you described it like a food-critique would, not a hungry teenager. Since you haven't given us any real reason to think your character has that sort of experience, it's best to re-work those descriptions to make things easier to understand.

Causes: This is, in my opinion, the biggest thing that is throwing this chapter off. You give the reader a lot of rather fancy descriptions and a handful of scattered memories, but you never give any reason for your MC to think that way, notice things that way or behave that way. Unless you give a cause in the prose about why your MC can describe a cookie like a food critique, know exactly where she and others stand in high school and is able to analyze a threatening situation almost perfectly, then your reader becomes lost.

Emotion: Really add emotion in here. Your MC right now has all the precision of a robot along with the emotions of one. Robotic precision can be good. It makes us wonder why she's like that. Robotic emotions are almost always bad. They put a wall up between the MC and the readers, making us unable to really relate to your character. If she's not wondering where all these abilities came from and she doesn't have a memory, why is she not majorly freaked out? I know I would be if a voice was speaking in my head, I was unable to control my body for any period of time, or I looked as if I just escaped from an asylum or prison. Or I was told government agents were looking for me.

Questions I am asking:

Good ones (questions that move the plot forward and keep me reading): Who the men are, why she's running, what the voice is and why she has that voice.

Bad ones (questions that make me scratch my head): Why she can describe things perfectly, why she doesn't feel any sort of emotion at the sight or sound of anything.

If you have any questions, PM me.

~Rosey

Thank you for the reviews! I will edit it soon!