The Madcap

MONDAY
It's dark in here. I claw at the cage. It smells like burnt flesh and gasoline. I stare out with the corner of my eye. I've become blind on the right side due to a collision that occurred several years ago. Didn't end well. I still remember the screams and the running of the faucet and the traumatic temporary tantrums my brother would be having for the next several years. What a fucking joke. I'm not much a fan of introductions. Or commas. I guess this is a journal. Or at least an account of the workings and counter-productions of this putrid soul of mine...Whatever.
I was put in this cage. It's dark here and all I can see is a little ray of light coming in from the left side of the room, out of an ajar door. The light is red. Reminds me of Texas. The year is 1987 and i'm hungry. Stone-cold campfire destruction activity-gathering activist. Silly hypocrite. I ramble more than I should. The south-side is the bad side the west-side is where i was. hahahahaha don't quite remember quite at all gotta purge some more gotta purge some more of this disjointed chaos.
I was captured. I was stuffed in a jar. I was drugged i was tortured i was dead i was forgotten. Silly Americans do you ever sleep. These drugs really got a hold on me. It's night time i think and my light is growing dark. Mom i need some chemisty in my physics what a mockery what a fool my eyes are blinded and my soul is torched ahahahahahahaha My immunity doesn't want to agree it seems, might as well drown it before it speaks. I wonder if this journal will be a success or if i'll end up like that girl who was trapped once...sick fetish you sick mongrel go sing so more.

TUESDAY
I think I've regained consciousness or at least as much as I've ever been. I think it's morning although the light never changes in here. Maybe he did that on purpose. Maybe it's supposed to comfort me? Y'know sometimes I like to think positive, you understand? I mean there's no negatives. We're all of us in this together in here or something like that and were all gonna be up to our necks in death eventually. I haven't ate in quite awhile, I believe. This cage is tight. There's room for my arms to stretch out perfectly above my head, but i can't stand up, and neither can i let my legs leave their position of my knees right up against my chin. It's a nightmarish condition, indeed. Anyway, i'll pick up where i left, before those drugs took me over, and before i receive more of them. I've never seen the doctor who gives these to me but he seems safe enough...i'm not dead yet, am i? I was grocery shopping. I was alone in the local supermarket that was next to my house, or rather, my neighborhood. Funny thing about that: ask anybody in my neighborhood where the supermarket was and they would tell you it was next to their house, but, honestly, who has a supermarket next to their house? Getting back on topic: the man was dressed in all black, and he must have been at least 6 feet tall. He didn't seem scary. I don't believe he is at all. More or less he must have been misunderstood, y'know. Serial killers are people too. They aren't the death sentence, they are the denied. I'm a big fan of music. I have every artist you could ever think of in my collection. I'm a musician also. I've had many bands over the years but i've always ended them before we could do anything productive. Oh well. Writing is fun for me too, because there honestly aren't many other things you can do while locked in a cage floating ten feet above the ground in the possible lair of a masochistic denial twister. hmmmmmm what to write about ne - ---- - -- -- --- ---
*door opens*
*narrator stops writing*
*the medicine is injected*
*the narrator is thrown outside*
*the narrator is asleep*

WEDNESDAY
I was thrown out yesterday. I haven't said much of anything in this journal of mine yet, i can no longer be bothered to continue. I am free, and this is the end. I found out what was happening to me and I believe i'll tell you. I was kidnapped and I was captured and I was dragged to this abandoned warehouse somewhere not too far away from my small town. It was pretty ugly and pretty dank indeed, but it reminds me of this overwhelming dark emotion that i can't seem to place...anyway, i'm all better now. I can be happy, and I can have my own life after such an experience, luckily. I just need this injection in my arm every little amount of time to keep me happy, or as the people here say "alive". Pfft, whatever. Death is a star, anyway. Just another one of those pointless lines of the american (auto) industry. That was a joke, voila. Well, goodbye journal, see you on the flipside.

[Doctor (on tape): The nurse walked in with a cold metal tray filled with some more ugly gray food that our main character hadn't bothered to eat for the past three days. It was foul and disgusting but it was food, and that was all that mattered, really. Our hero ignored it every time. She spoke as if trapped in a box, an enclosed space with no way out. She said it smelled like burning and that this slant of light kept getting in her eyes...If she really wanted a room change she should filed a complaint during the months she's been here. What an interesting case, quite the interesting case indeed. I heard from the nurses she rejected her food again because she was "busy writing out her story". Whatever that means...Kids these days...at least she's ok with the injections...they actually seem to brighten her mood. Interesting. Further tests shall be conducted tomorrow, let's hope she sleeps through the night well.]

THURSDAY
[Obituary: Clementine Jerichsen
Found dead at three fourteen in the morning of the nineteenth of December, a cold Thursday.
Cause of death: Paranoia under the influence of oxycontin leading to a stabbing of oneself and a possibly unconscious suicide. What a shame, What a shame.]

A vivid picture is painted, but much of what you write is nonsense. Keep up the good writing style, though.

Dear TheMadcap,

Your story doesn't really make any sense, like bro has said, and there are many ways you can use to improve it, like correcting your grammar. Here's a good tip. After you have finished typing your story, spell check it. Then, check your grammar. Underneath, I am going to point out a few grammatical mistakes.

I claw at the cage.

You could change that into the Past Tense.

I clawed at the cage.

The Year is 1978 and i'm hungry.

Change the 'i'.

The year is 1978 and I am hungry.

hahahahaha don't quite remember quite at all gotta purge some more gotta purge some more of this disjointed chaos.

I am going to make this sentence proper and in the end, it's supposed to look like this.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I don't quite remember anything. I have got to purge some more of this disjointed chaos.

See what I mean? You could really do better. And, try not to use so many bad words. Put the '*' at the very least!

Keep reading, reviewing and improving!

vstarfirix

Hi Madcapper,

I'm Yoda and would like to welcome you to YWS. I hope you'll both gain a great deal from, and contribute a great deal to the site. Now, let's talk writing.

I'm going to give you a like. It's very rare that I do that. I must confess to be completely blown over by the idea of your story. It makes me shiver in my boots. Your story is by no means flawless, and I'm not going to dwell on the actual writing so much as on the structure and manner in which you've told your story.

Firstly, you want to present the picture here as a collection of randomly pulled pieces of evidence that form a horrific story together. To maximize the tension here, you'll want to intersperse the diary entries presented with doctor statements or personal statements from friends or family. You want us to worry for this person, so make your direction apparent from the start. An increase in emotional response would make the final context you paint far more potent.

The attitude of the narrator as she writes in her journal makes it difficult to read. Seeing as this is not intrinsic to the plot, I'd switch the voice of your narrator. Try for someone who talks about his missing her children and family. Someone who has ideals and dreams. Someone who writes lucidly and we want to be saved from her pit of doom.

The *asterisked comments* are ugly. Paint the picture purely with recordings or medical statements and her diary entries.

You refer to the character as a hero. Explain, perhaps, how the MC attains the right to this title.

Remember, this will ring home much more clearly if you write each piece as it would appear in real life. When the doctor's account is given, don't say that “our main character hadn't bothered to eat.” Give her a name. It can be Smith or something bland if you want. You need to give her an identity, though.

The detached tone you've taken is interesting, though not ideal. I think in your efforts to be artistic you've compromised on the potential of this piece.

Your piece is great, but it could be even better. I don't know what it was about it, but it fit like a puzzle.
Keep well!
Yoda

Hi I'm Grenade Catcher!
This has a lot of potential, but I think you need to slow it down a bit. You jump from one point to another without any rhyme or reason. Here are a few examples:

It smells like burnt flesh and gasoline. I stare out with the corner of my eye. I've become blind on the right side due to a collision that occurred several years ago. Didn't end well. I still remember the screams and the running of the faucet and the traumatic temporary tantrums my brother would be having for the next several years. What a fucking joke. I'm not much a fan of introductions. Or commas. I guess this is a journal. Or at least an account of the workings and counter-productions of this putrid soul of mine...Whatever.

Okay! So the first part that jumps is where it says I still remember the screams and the running of the faucet and the traumatic temporary tantrums my brother would be having for the next several years. What a fucking joke.
You jumped straight from explaining about your crash and the effects to how much of a joke... introductions are? What does that even mean??? You haven't said anything about being introduced to anything. Then you jump straight into commas again, and then your talking about how this is a journal! Woah! You need to S l o w d o w n. You dont have any joined sentinces. Every. thing. just. goes. so. fast. when. you. don't. join. sentinces. together!


Here's an example (You can totally not use this at all, idc)

It's dark in here and it smells like burnt flesh and gasolene. I claw at the cage.I stare out of the(Of what? A barred window elaborate here) with the corner of my eye.I've become blind on my right side due to a collision that occured several years ago. It didn't end well; I still remember the screams, running faucet (? What faucet??) and the traumatic temporary tantrums my brother would be having for the next several years. (I think you could cut out the whole part about what your not a fan of.) Anyway, this is such a fucking joke, this 'journal'. I guess you could call it an account of the workings and counter-productions of this putrid soul of mine...Whatever.

I think that flows much better. You could rearange it, put together different sentinces, whatever! Just do SOMETHING to slow the pace down.

side of the room, out of an ajar door.

I don't think that comma is nesicary.

The year is 1987 and i'm hungry. Stone-cold campfire destruction activity-gathering activist. Silly hypocrite. I ramble more than I should. The south-side is the bad side the west-side is where i was. hahahahaha don't quite remember quite at all gotta purge some more gotta purge some more of this disjointed chaos.

What? None of this makes sence at all! First of all, the year and that you're hungry dont go together. They have nothing similar! You could put the year by its self, then not mention your hungry. As for the rest, it's all just bambling. I mean, really! I can't make out any of it.
So the rest you can take what I 've already said and apply it to the rest! I'm not sure if the babmling is intentional...? But get some more commas in for sure.
Also later on you act like it's more of a script. I just found that interesting Not any help... but I thought I'd let you know! hahahaha