Dreams Tell Lies - Chapter One

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THIS IS NOT THE CORRECT VERSION! For some reason, YWS thinks i posted this chapter more than once - the proper version is here post811776.html#p811776 thanks for reading :)


Chapter One: The End



The fog had lifted by the time I reached the corner. The night air was cool and crisp and a soft breeze ruffled my loose hair sending it cascading down my back like a waterfall. I approached the tunnel slowly, its old brick walls were crumbling slowly throughout the decades and the disintegrating roof was not much better. The cobblestones beneath my feet were cold and the cracks between them were overflowing with bedraggled weeds.

It was as I stepped into the dangerous darkness of the tunnel I felt a cold shiver pass down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end. About ten feet away from me, visible only by her ivory hair that was as thin as cobwebs, was an old woman, wandering slowly up the path. Her skeletal body was emaciated and looked as if a single gust would blow her over. Although she turned her head back to check behind her she showed no signs of recognition. In fact, she acted as if I was invisible, like I didn’t exist.

When she staggered beside the lamppost she looked directly at the place I was standing, frozen to the spot. There was no possible way for her to have missed me, yet she seemed to stare right through me with glazed eyes. My sharp eyes caught a glimpse of her face, half in shadow, partially lit by the warmth of the light falling on her. The face was a maze of lines, each twisting and turning into each other. Her mouth was twisted into a painful grimace, the lips as dry and cracked as the path I was walking on. The only reason I was sure she was alive was her eyes, although they were sunken into her, I was sure I could see (but it may have been a trick of the dim light) a shadow of fire dancing in them and twinkling mischievously behind the enormous spectacles that she attached to her person by means of a long silver chain, hung precariously around her wasted neck. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite be sure what it was.

Checking her watch, she seemed to discover she was late. She hurried, more quickly than I could fathom in her decaying body, up to the end of the tunnel and out into the crisp night once more. The light flickered and went out. I ran past it, my feet slapping against the ground, anxious to follow her and not to be left in the darkness.

But upon reaching the mouth of the cavernous passageway, I found that I could not see her anywhere. I glanced left and right but she was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished, exactly like all the hopes and dreams I had ever had. Part of me wanted to find her, to abandon all my efforts tonight and simply find this hag. I had no idea why I was drawn to her, but she was so deeply entrancing. I felt like the world could rest on her gaunt and withered body, and she wouldn’t feel the weight whatsoever.

I shook my head. I had to remind myself of why I was out tonight, the memory almost brought tears to my eyes and I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs that were struggling to escape. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let them down. Forcing my eyes to tear away from scanning the streets intently, I focused my gaze on the path ahead of me and resumed walking.

As I rounded the bend I was met by a beautiful sight. The bright coloured lights of the city I knew so well. The city I would never see again; were reflected on the glistening water, shimmering as the soft ripples passed over the river.

The buildings had become a theatre of lights, illuminating the waters with its glow. If it had been any other day, any other situation, I would have felt obliged to retrieve my brick of a mobile phone from my thick woollen jumper to capture this picturesque scene forever, but it wasn’t different.

As I passed the lonely trees on the side of the riverbank, the last of the evening winds disturbed the few leaves on the concrete ground and whipped them up, into a final frenzy of swirling green. They fell, moments later, resting once more on the solid ground, waiting to be kicked by the busy crowds on the bustling streets the next day.

The river meandered along slowly now like a snake lingering in the long grass, murmuring softly. It had always seemed odd to me that a perfect illustration of nature’s beauty could be found in the centre of city life with its loud atmosphere. Usually the place was teeming with crowds of people, ceaselessly fighting their way through the throng, dressed in colourful attire. The passionate shoppers had no restraint when it came to shoving their way through the multitude of people, pushing and shoving the crowd to get exactly where they want. The sound was deafening as the music blaring from speakers around the various parks added to the din.

Now that velvet had been laid over the sky, peacock blue and covered with sparkling gems, it was hard to picture the cloudy, wet, London days. I had only passed one person so far tonight, and if I was lucky, she would be the only one. This area of town was often empty at night. Few cars drove by and once through the park it was as quiet as death. Or quieter, maybe I would know that soon.

Looking up; I could see the reflection of the moon on the surface of the river, clear as a crystal and as pure as a blanket of white snow. Dark, grey clouds loomed over the moon ominously like a murderous figure, cloaked in black robes, and the river was perished and brought to despair and darkness once again. A symbol of the way this night would be remembered.

This was a night nobody, nobody I knew anyway, would ever forget, no matter how hard they tried. I tried desperately not to picture the headlines the next day combined with the face of my sister. She would be so… No. It was too painful. I couldn’t think of her anymore, not of anyone. If I did I wouldn’t be able to help her, to maybe save her tonight.

I couldn’t be responsible for their deaths; it wasn’t something my already troubled mind could cope with. I faintly remembered being told that my brain was already overheating and that too much stress could

I drew near the menacing bridge; cautiously peering around to check that there was nobody around. The street was empty. The coast was clear. This was my chance. I had to take it.
Forcing myself to put one shaking foot in front of the other I advanced along the tightrope like bridge. The elderly crone appeared to have taken all my courage. Once at the edge, next to the water, I stared, as though deeply entranced, into the depths of the sinister looking river.

I couldn’t backtrack now, I had come too far. If turning back had been an option before, it certainly wasn’t now. I had to do this. I had to. For her. For all of them.

Slipping through the cold metal railings I stripped off the warm beige jumper that hung like a blanket draped over my shivering body and hung it over the rust covered railings. What was the use of it now?

For all of two minutes I teetered dangerously on the edge. Between life and death.
Suddenly a worried shout alerted me to the presence of a middle aged man whose face reminded me of a worried parent, eye brows furrowed and a shaking hand reaching out to my terror stricken body, His feet firmly rooted to the street next to the left of the iron bridge.

‘HEY!’ he bellowed.’ Get off there!’

That was all the encouragement I needed. Yelling my best hopes to the heavens I leant forward and plunged off the side of the bridge. The night air streamed past me and whipped my hair into a whirlwind as I plummeted rapidly toward the water. The fall was exhilarating. I forced my eyes to remain open, to see my beautiful world for the last time. Then, I hit. The impact was tremendous. The water filled my lungs as ruthlessly as a storm, angry and fierce. I was drifting as I sank and my sister’s face settled in my mind, she was my last thought. Everything was for her.
Last edited by IcyFlame on Wed Feb 23, 2011 1:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.




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Hey IcyFlame. Welcome to YWS, I hope you have fun here :). Corrections in red!

IcyFlame wrote:Chapter One: The End



The fog had lifted by the time I reached the corner. The night air was cool and crisp and a soft breeze ruffled my loose hair sending it cascading down my back like a waterfall. I approached the tunnel slowly. Its old brick walls had been crumbling slowly throughout the decades and the disintegrating roof was not much better. The cobblestones beneath my feet were cold and the cracks between them were overflowing with bedraggled weeds. I like this imagery

It was as I stepped into the dangerous darkness of the tunnel I felt a cold shiver pass down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end. About ten feet away from me, visible only by her ivory hair that was as thin as cobwebs, was an old woman, wandering slowly up the path. Her skeletal body was emaciated and {looked as if a single gust would blow her over} this phrase is used often in novels, try using something more creative. Although she turned her head back to check behind her she showed no signs of recognition. In fact, she acted as if I was invisible, like I didn’t exist.

When she staggered beside the lamppost she looked directly at the place I was standing, frozen to the spot. There was no possible way for her to have missed me, yet she seemed to stare right through me with glazed eyes. My sharp eyes caught a glimpse of her face, half in shadow, partially lit by the warmth of the light falling on her. The face was a maze of lines, each twisting and turning into each other. More good imagery! Her mouth was twisted into a painful grimace, the lips as dry and cracked as the path I was walking on. {The only reason I was sure she was alive was her eyes, although they were sunken into her, I was sure I could see (but it may have been a trick of the dim light) a shadow of fire dancing in them and twinkling mischievously behind the enormous spectacles that she attached to her person by means of a long silver chain, hung precariously around her wasted neck. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite be sure what it was.} Whoa! Run-on sentence. Shorten it.

Checking her watch, she seemed to discover that she was late. She hurried, more quickly than I could fathom in her decaying body, up to the end of the tunnel and out into the crisp night once more. The light flickered and went out. I ran past it, my feet slapping against the ground, anxious to follow her and not to be left in the darkness.

But upon reaching the mouth of the cavernous passageway, I found that I could not see her anywhere. I glanced left and right but she was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished, exactly like all the hopes and dreams I had ever had. Part of me wanted to find her, to abandon all my efforts tonight and simply find this hag. I had no idea why I was drawn to her, but she was so deeply entrancing. I felt like the world could rest on her gaunt and withered body, and she wouldn’t feel the weight whatsoever. Yum, pretty words

I shook my head. I had to remind myself of why I was out tonight, the memory almost brought tears to my eyes and I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs that were struggling to escape. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let them down. Forcing my eyes to tear away from scanning the streets intently, I focused my gaze on the path ahead of me and resumed walking.

As I rounded the bend I was met by a beautiful sight. The bright coloured lights of the city I knew so well. The city I would never see again; were reflected on the glistening water, shimmering as the soft ripples passed over the river.

The buildings had become a theater of lights, illuminating the waters with its glow. If it had been any other day, any other situation, I would have felt obliged to retrieve my brick of a mobile phone from my thick woolen jumper to capture this picturesque scene forever, but today was different.

As I passed the lonely trees on the side of the riverbank, the last of the evening winds disturbed the few leaves on the concrete ground and whipped them up, into a final frenzy of swirling green. They fell, moments later, resting once more on the solid ground, waiting to be kicked by the busy crowds on the bustling streets the next day.

The river meandered along slowly now like a snake lingering in the long grass, murmuring softly. It had always seemed odd to me that a perfect illustration of nature’s beauty could be found in the center of city life with its loud atmosphere. Usually the place was teeming with crowds of people, ceaselessly fighting their way through the throng, dressed in colourful attire. The passionate shoppers had no restraint when it came to shoving their way through the multitude of people, pushing and shoving the crowd to get exactly where they want. The sound was deafening as the music blaring from speakers around the various parks added to the din.

Now that velvet had been laid over the sky, peacock blue and covered with sparkling gems, it was hard to picture the cloudy, wet, London days. I had only passed one person so far tonight, and if I was lucky, she would be the only one. This area of town was often empty at night. Few cars drove by and once through the park it was as quiet as death. Or quieter, maybe I would know that soon.

Looking up; I could see the reflection of the moon on the surface of the river, clear as a crystal and as pure as a blanket of white snow. Dark, grey clouds loomed over the moon ominously like a murderous figure, cloaked in black robes, and the river was perished and brought to despair and darkness once again. A symbol of the way this night would be remembered.

This was a night nobody, nobody I knew anyway, would ever forget, no matter how hard they tried. I tried desperately not to picture the headlines the next day combined with the face of my sister. She would be so… No. It was too painful. I couldn’t think of her anymore, not of anyone. If I did I wouldn’t be able to help her, to maybe save her tonight.

I couldn’t be responsible for their deaths; it wasn’t something my already troubled mind could cope with. I faintly remembered being told that my brain was already overheating and that too much stress could could what?

I drew near the menacing bridge; cautiously peering around to check that there was nobody around. The street was empty. The coast was clear. This was my chance. I had to take it.
Forcing myself to put one shaking foot in front of the other I advanced along the tightrope like bridge. The elderly crone appeared to have taken all my courage. Once at the edge, next to the water, I stared, as though deeply entranced, into the depths of the sinister looking river.

I couldn’t backtrack now, I had come too far. If turning back had been an option before, it certainly wasn’t now. I had to do this. I had to. For her. For all of them.

Slipping through the cold metal railings I stripped off the warm beige jumper that hung like a blanket draped over my shivering body and hung it over the rust covered railings. What was the use of it now?

For all of two minutes I teetered dangerously on the edge. Between life and death.
Suddenly a worried shout alerted me to the presence of a middle aged man whose face reminded me of a worried parent, eye brows furrowed and a shaking hand reaching out to my terror stricken body, His feet firmly rooted to the street next to the left of the iron bridge.

"HEY!" he bellowed. "Get off there!"

That was all the encouragement I needed. Yelling my best hopes to the heavens I leant forward and plunged off the side of the bridge. The night air streamed past me and whipped my hair into a whirlwind as I plummeted rapidly toward the water. The fall was exhilarating. I forced my eyes to remain open, to see my beautiful world for the last time. Then, I hit. The impact was tremendous. The water filled my lungs as ruthlessly as a storm, angry and fierce. I was drifting as I sank and my sister’s face settled in my mind, she was my last thought. Everything was for her.


This was really good. The imagery was beautiful, but at about half way through I started wondering if anything was going to happen. I cared about the character, I felt dread when she climbed on the edge of the bridge.

Sorry I don't have much more to say!

~Lauren
Favorite books:

The Hunger Games

Eyes Like Stars

Life of Pi

Mortal Instruments

Howl's Moving Castle




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Hey Ice,

I read this all the way through, and found this was just a bit disjointed. Especially at the beginning, when you're describing the woman. I thought it was a dream, the way every description was disjointed and we never get a clear indicator of the surroundings. Remember, this is the start of the story so we have no idea what is going on. By having the descriptions look more like shifting snapshots, it's hard to get an idea of what's going on.

Also, the set-up for this chapter was just a bit odd. It's first person, and it ends with her suicide. You only have two options now: a viewpoint switch (which would surprise me) or she wakes up in the hospital with people asking what she was thinking. Both have their problems.

The viewpoint switch has us wonder why there was a different viewpoint to begin with. It would read a lot cleaner if it started from the secondary viewpoint, just so there's more consistency and readers don't feel they were cheated out of getting attached to a character. The hospital is also a bit of a problem because it's been done frequently, and can read as a bit cliche if not done very well. Also, the viewpoint character's death can give us reason to stop reading, because we'd rather not see the whole thing play out.

The woman's introduction made me look at it a bit strangely, because I now know she's going to be playing a very important part. If she's not going to become a major player in the viewpoint character's life, then she'll become one in the viewpoint character's friends' lives. Lines like "somehow felt an attraction towards her" really set up her importance in the story later on, and make the mention sound forced.

Overall, I'm not sure what to make of this. It has some elements that are interesting (the reason she's dying, for example) but it's done in such a way that I'm not really left wondering what happens. I figure it's going to be one of two options (dies with a viewpoint switch, or hospital) and that kills a lot of the suspense for me.

I'd suggest playing up the reason why she's dying more, and focusing more on what happens after her jump, or moving the jump to the next chapter so we don't have a suspense-killing cliffhanger at the end of this chapter.

PM me if you have any questions or comments.

~Rosey
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo

Ink is blood. Paper is bandages. The wounded press books to their heart to know they're not alone.




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This was a really fun read. I felt a bit out of the loop at first- why is she walking and where is she headed? Who is she? Why is she afraid? But most importantly, Why do we care? I know that looks very snobby, but when people begin to read the first lines of a book they want to know why they're reading it. I love, LOVE that your opening starts dark and windy, and that the main character is afraid right off the bat- that give us a reason to keep reading.

The other beef is adjectives, adjectives, adjectives. That was tiring! The more descriptive words you have, the more they drown each other out. Instead of using three or four descriptive words, you can use just one and let the reader's own imagination do the rest.

its old brick walls were crumbling slowly throughout the decades and the disintegrating roof was not much better


Along with the bit about the weeds, we now know that this place is in pretty bad shape. You could say it's derelict, abandoned, or forgotten, and this would save the reader time as he or she reads on.

Her skeletal body was emaciated
half in shadow, partially lit


These are basically saying the exact same thing. Which descriptive word is your favorite? Which one is really going to bring out the flavor in your writing? The description of the old woman's face, however, was stunning. The comparison between her appearance and the pathway, especially.

The story sounds great, the action sounds really great, but just remember to use only the words you absolutely need to. They will carry more weight that way and improve the reading experiance.

Hope this helps! :) Best of luck.
I can take criticism! The more help you can give someone, the better.




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IcyFlame wrote:Chapter One: The End



The fog had lifted by the time I reached the corner corner of what? . The night air was cool and crisp, and a soft breeze ruffled my loose hair, sending it cascading down my back like a waterfall. I approached the tunnel slowly; its old brick walls were crumbling slowly throughout the decades ("Crumbling" implies this already. Avoid redundancies. and the disintegrating Definitely not the right word. roof was not much better. The cobblestones beneath my feet were cold and the cracks between them were overflowing with bedraggled weeds.

It was as As I stepped into the dangerousdarkness of the tunnel, I felt a cold shiver pass down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end. About ten feet away from me, visible only by her ivory hair that was as thin as cobwebs, was an old woman, wandering slowly up the path. Her skeletal body was emaciated and looked as if a single gust would blow her over it away. [Although she turned her head back to check behind her she showed no signs of recognition] This needs thorough reworkage. I had no idea that she was facing away from MC. And why would she be "checking" behind her?. In fact, she acted as if I was invisible, like I didn’t exist.

When she staggered beside the lamppost she looked directly at the place I was standing, frozen to the spot. There was no possible way for her to have missed me, yet she seemed to stare right through me with glazed eyes. My sharp eyes caught a glimpse of her face, half in shadow, partially lit by the warmth of the light falling on her. The face was a maze of lines, each twisting and turning into each other. Her mouth was twisted into a painful grimace, the lips as dry and cracked as the path I was walking on These last two sentences are structured the exact same way. Sounds odd. . The only reason I was sure knew she was alive was her eyes: although they were sunken into her, I was sure I could see (but it may have been a trick of the dim light) a shadow of fire dancing in them and twinkling mischievouslybehind the enormous spectacles that she attached to her personbodyby means of a long silver chain The "fire in eyes" metaphor is just that, a metaphor. You're acting as if there really is, literally, a fire in her eyes. The comment in the parentheses is the biggest contributer to this. , hung precariously around her wasted neck. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite be sure what it was. This whole (cliched, if I may add) "I recognize that person but I can't put my finger on it" is used later in stories. It has absolutely no meaning to the reader this early. Besides, I was under the impression that she did know the lady, since you make no reference to her being a stranger. It's just something the reader assumes when you start off a story this way.

Checking her watch, she seemed to discover she was late Uh, to what? Does MC even know if she is going anywhere? . She hurried, more quickly than I could fathom in her decaying body (Yeah, I think I've gathered that much by now. No need to repeat it. , up to the end of the tunnel and out into the crisp night once more Okay, I really need more clarification on what exactly the setting is. You never took the time to clearly explain the general layout of the scene. I thought the lady was already out of the tunnel. . The light flickered and went out. I ran past it "It?" What's "it?" The context would usually imply that you mean the light, but the light apparently doesn't exist anymore, and that in itself would be a strange way to put it. , my feet slapping against the ground, anxious to follow her and not to be left in the darkness. Rework this last part.

But upon reaching the mouth of the cavernous passageway tunnel (Don't make things overly complicated just because you can.) , I found that I could not see her anywhere she had disappeared. I glanced left and right but she was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished, exactly like all the hopes and dreams I had ever had (This would be weird as is, but sticking it in the beginning of a story is completely unrelatable for the reader.) . Part of me wanted to find her, to abandon all my efforts tonight and simply find this hag (Think of another way to occupy this space after the comma. This doesn't work.) . I had no idea why I was drawn to her, but she was so [deeply entrancing] This is news to me. I had no idea you found her "deeply entrancing." Keep things relevant to the story at hand. . I felt like the world could rest on her gaunt and withered body, and she wouldn’t feel the weight whatsoever. Hang on. Earlier you said that she could be "blown over" by the wind. Now this? They contradict each other. Fix that. I, personally, would keep the first one, since it is such good imagery. The second one is not as justifiable. Actually, my tip would be to just get rid of the whole "I'm so entranced by this old lady and I need to follow her and stay with her forever" act, because you have no justification. It simply does not work this early in the story. Maybe later, but not now.


'Kay. Has some rough edges, but I like it so far. I'll get to the second half at a later time.

-Kafka
#TNT

WRFF



Thou call'dst me a dog before thou hadst cause. But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs.
— Shylock, The Merchant of Venice