Roping Dolls

The prologue is very vague and disconnected, and in a way rather hard to follow. There seems to be a mixture of thoughts running around with no noticeable continuity or flow between them , which often makes narrative difficult to follow (might explain some confusion noted earlier on). However, at the same time, it was sort of effective - it made me interested. So you should probably keep it as it is.

Other issues:

Hyphen Abuse: At some points you seem to hyphenated two words that don't need it. Example: "She and Stacyh ad shared everything from milk cartons in kindergarten to first bra-shopping experineces to crushes and boyfriends." I think it works fine as "to first bra shopping experiences." Actually, though, it would be better as "to first underwear shopping experiences."

Paragraphing: I guess you might like the short lines split from each other, but in reality this formatting is frankly pretty annoying. I'd rather have clustered paragraphs, it looks better and reads better. If you're going for effect again, I'd suggest not to overdo it. You definitely need a lot more detail anyway in your first chapter, cos it's pretty sparse at the moment. Basically it needs "filling".

Spelling and Grammar: Yeh, you probably know this, but there's a lot of mistakes. I know you rushed it, but sort it!

Pointless Detail

“Couldn’ hold off, huh hon?” Beck’s mother said, spatulaing the cookies onto the countertop.

“Hmm mm, mom,” Beck replied with vigor as she enveloped the cookie in her mouth and grabbing another.

“That’s all right, me neither,” the other woman said, grabbing a cookie and dipping it in Beck’s milk. “And how’s the mutt?”

“Elmo is fine. I took him on a walk.”

“Hmm.”

Beck finished her cookie. “Well, homework calls.”

Why do you need to mention about the cookies and the milk? It seems just needless detail. Narrative in stories should always have a purpose - and this just seems like you have nothing to do but describe their actions which adds nothing. Cut out the "grabbing a cookie" parts and leave the dialogue and describe only what is neccesary and can add to the effect or drama of their conversation.

Transition

The clock-times aren't working for me. Yeh, use them, but it seems to be a result of laziness. The change in structure is odd and probably will need some fixing to make it more continuous.



Otherwise, very creepy. It certainly caught my attention, and that's always a good thing. Post more!

Pretty creepy. Very intense. I liked it.

First, I noticed a few places where a semicolon would work a lot better than comma.

i.e.

Of course Beck took in Elmo, she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Other than the typos, the quality of the descriptions seemed to degrade as the story went on. They were great in the beginning, but became less imaginative as the story went on.

I would say more, but I have a trip to Colorado to prepare for.

2

Beck woke up with a crick in her neck, and rubbed it as she stumbled to the mirror.
Oh, wonderful, she thought. There is a zit on my nose. Gorgeous.
She put on liquid foundation, and powder too. Still, despite the mass of gunk, she didn’t feel any more feminine.
Maybe if I wear that pink skirt…, she thought, thinking of the fact that it was Casual Tuesday at St. Michael’s.
But even to Beck, the idea of borrowing a dead girl’s skirt seemed futile, despite the fact that it was in her closet. And Stacy wouldn’t be needing it. She wouldn’t want her favorite Barbie skirt to go to waste.
Yes. It was settled. Beck pulled the skirt out of her closet, and pulled a white V-neck on. She could at least act like she wasn’t engrossed with her face….and the massive growth on her face.
She shoved her books into her book bag and forgot it at the door. The bus was late and she ran back upstairs for the book bag, then missed the bus.
“Oh, gosh…darn!” Beck exclaimed as the yellow bus zoomed out of view. She stomped her foot on Elmo’s tail, who yelped so ferociously she had to dart away from him and down the sidewalk.
Walking half a mile in high heels. God save us.
Beck hobbled along, slightly wobbly from the weight of her one-shoulder book bag. The sidewalk was slippery with dried rain from the previous night, and Beck had to walk around the icy patches.
She walked past Stacy’s house and around the block. On the street corner, possibly waiting for a bus, was a group of girls, heavily lip-lined, with an arsenal of purses and chanel No. 5.
Lord help us all, Beck though, an edge of sarcasm in her thoughts. But even she wasn’t foolish enough to go up against the preppy blondes. “God knows, you can’t win,” she’d told Stacy earlier that year—though by all means Stacy could be considered a preppy blonde as well.
“But not a real prep. Not an ohmigod-I-broke-a-nail blonde.” Beck had rationalized. And even now, the girls were in a circle, chippering like a bunch of twitty chickens about the loss in their ranks.
“Like, though, Stacy was so pretty, and sweet. Well, I never would have figured it of her, that’s all I’m saying,” Twitty Chicken #1 was saying. Beck rolled her eyes and tried to walk past them, but one stepped in front of her.
“What do you think?” Twitty Chicken #2 asked.
“Me?” Beck asked, trying to step past the girl.
“Yes, you, weren’t you her like, friend? Although I can’t see why, really…”
“Yes. I was. Now, if you don’t mind, I missed my bus, and…”
Another spindly-legged girl in a much-too-short skirt spoke up. “I don’t think she killed herself,” the girl said.
“Oh, please, Rosie,” Twitty Chicken #2 said.
“Well, like, if she didn’t kill herself, what did she do?” Twitty Chicken #1 put in.
Rosie blushed. “I think she was murdered.
That earned a collective gasp from the twittery chickens.
“No, really! Why else would a pretty girl like Stacy just knock herself off? It just doesn’t happen!”
Beck rolled her eyes and took the opportunity to step past Twitty Chicken #2. She hobbled as quickly as she could around the corner.
“Please,” she said aloud, adjusting the strap of her book bag. “What complete and total idiots. I---hate---blondes!” she practically screamed, yanking on the strap.
“Whoa,” said a voice to the left of her. A vaguely attractive boy (at least, he would have earned an ohmigod-what-a-total-hottie from the twitty chickens) stepped off of his porch and onto the sidewalk. “Here,” he added, noticing the broken book bag. With nimble, slightly large, bronzed hands he adjusted it.
“Oh. Thanks. Uh, I was just saying…”
“Something about hating blondes?” the boy offered helpfully.
“Oh, yeah.” Beck laughed and continued to warble along, wishing that she had foregone the skirt and ergo high-heel experience altogether, or at least caught the bus in time.
The boy caught stride with her. Smiling at her wobbly demeanor, he said, “May I?” and took the book bag from her.
“Oh. Thanks.”
That left her to walk in peace. Except that this strange boy was walking next to her, seemingly intent on finding out about every aspect about her life. Or at least her name.
“I’m…well my name is Beck,” she told him. Beck. An unfeminine derivation of Rebecca, which was so girly it make me puke-ish.
“Hi, Beck. I’m, ah, Conrad.”
“Nice to meet you.”
At least he wasn’t your typical Ken, Beck thought. I mean, he had a kind of unique face. Kind of off-centered nose that slanted out at one point and came down to a sort of button, big, hazel eyes, dominant lower lip...He was not completely unattractive, Beck decided. At least he hadn’t grown out his red-brown hair in a complete skater boy cliché.
Well, at least it isn’t blonde, Beck decided. Just as she was coming to the conclusion that she just might possibly like this boy, her heel got caught in the sidewalk crack. Beck gasped, and pulled on the shoe, tugging at it. Conrad noticed he was walking alone and looked back.
“Everything all right back there?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah!” Beck answered, yanking at her foot. “I’m fine!”
She pulled on her foot, and finally it came free—complete with a sensationally unpleasant ripping noise.
Her high heel had been commandeered by the sidewalk. Oh how exceptionally lovely.
Conrad stared at her for a long moment.
“Wow,” he said.
Beck stared at her shoe, then hobbled up to him, limping heavily. “Haha. Uh. Yeah.” She pulled off her shoes, shrugged her shoulders and continued to walk along, inwardly wincing with every step. The sidewalk, she realized, had an exurbanite amount of prickly gravelly things.
“You okay?” Conrad asked, his eyebrows knitted.
“Who, me?” Beck said. “Oh, yeah.” She nodded unconvincingly.
The next three blocks were exceptionally unpleasant, and Beck decided to officially swear off high heels, and put her other pairs in the incinerator as soon as she got home.
At school, Conrad walked Beck to her locker to drop off her books, then Beck ran to her gym locker and put on a pair of white sneakers.
So, so typical, Beck thought while rushing off to her first period class, a study hall.
“Why on earth would anyone schedule a study hall for first period,” Beck vocalized, taking her regular seat in the back. She looked up at the blackboard.
JUNIORS, DON’T FORGET—TEST TODAY IN FRENCH.
Mr. Hamerstein.
“Oh, crap!” Beck exclaimed, rushing out to her locker to get her French book. Who could remember those annoying tests anyway?
She spend nearly the whole of Study Hall poring over her French book and agonizing over the fact that she was going to fail her test. During the last fifteen minutes, the Headmaster entered the classroom. Instantly the regular buzz died down.
The Headmaster was a burly looking figure, with an unkempt goatee and furry bits of hair forming a horseshoe around his balding skull. He tended to wear mismatching tweed suits and always seemed to be fumbling with his glasses, particularly when he was nervous. Pencil-thin, his long, brown jacket and red dress slacks hung loose off of his gaunt figure. Lately his cheeks had hollowed out so that his cheekbones stuck out horribly.
The students were simultaneously afraid of him and amused by him.
“Hello, Junior class,” he said. “I and my secretary have been making rounds.” He looked down at his scuffed black shoes. “We, I fear, are faced with an epidemic.” The man looked up and met their eyes strongly. “We received word that Joanna Tray will no longer be attending school. Because she is dead.”
There were several sharp intakes of breath and one girl immediately burst into tears. The principal moved on as though no one had spoken. “She is dead because she hanged herself last night, around six o’clock. And she is the third one in a month.”
He paused for a moment, allowing this harsh sentiment to sink in.
“The administration would like to make clear that the counselor’s office is located down the hall and to the right from the main office. There are other solutions. Nothing is ever that bad.” He emphasized the words before leaving the room. All in a moment it was abuzz with tremulous words and broken sobs.
Joanna had attended St. Michael’s Academy since second grade. Everyone knew her. She was class president, ASB secretary and, debatably, the most beautiful girl in school, certainly the most popular. She dated jock cornerback Jason Connors, was Captain of both the Cheer Squad and the Softball team, She was beautiful, shapely, and blonde.
Beck shook her head and sat back in her desk, quite suddenly weak. The bell rang but nobody moved. Five minutes past, and Beck stared at her dirty gym sneakers and brushed a dirt clod off one foot with the other foot.
Ten minutes, and the brown haired girl was still hyperventilating and carrying on so badly they had to call an ambulance and give her an oxygen tank.
Fifteen minutes, and the secretary came in and dismissed the class for the rest of the day.

Might wanna space that out, hon.

Okay, I've critiqued all... *checks* 7 chapters you gave me. But since I don't want to give away any more of the story and I don't want to confuse anyone else, AND I'm lazy and need to get to sleep soon, I'll just post my critiques of the prologue through Chapter 2. Minus spelling errors - you can find those with spellcheck.

Calculus homework, 500 word essay, Psycology terms and Animal Farm, page marked 93.

Aside from spelling psychology correctly, you also should lower-case it. Only languages should be capitalized. Also, Animal Farm is a book, so you should underline it.

Beck walked Elmo down her block, arm constantly jarred by the smallish dogs constant jerks. The harsh wind picked up dirt and debris, and blew back Beck's stringy black hair.

"dogs" should have an apostrophe before the s, and I don't think you need a comma after debris.

Beck couldn't have hoped to understand Stacy...And she had always considered herself an expert on the going-on in Stacy's mind.

I'd make this all one sentence.

One general note I'd like to make... "Stac" reminds me of "stack," so I don't sound it out like "Stace," which I think is the pronunciation you're looking for. Might look into that.

They spoke of her once or twice a week,

This is just a picky thing for me... I'm not sure how realistic this is. When a freshman committed suicide at my school on Thursday, the staff didn't talk about it. We were told he "suddenly died" and to be kind to each other and that if we needed to talk to someone we could leave class. But they haven't mentioned him since, except to say when the services will be held.

Another general note - you use "Beck" a lot instead of pronouns or other alternatives. Again, might want to look into that.

"That's all right, me neither," the other woman said,

The other woman? You mean the mother. If you're trying to vary it, use "Mrs. -so-and-so-" but don't call her "the other woman." That's far too distant and almost insulting. Not to mention confusing.

Sure. Calc. Fun, Beck thought,

Italicize her thoughts.

Another general note... For the times, I'd italicize those as well. And maybe add periods after them.

I agree with Snoink on the quadratic formulas. I'm sick of them, they're so easy. And I'm in PREcalc.

The sidewalk was slippery with dried rain from the previous night,

You might want to write this differently... At first I didn't understand why dried rain would be slippery. We don't get ice where I live, lol, so when I think dried rain, I think... well... dry. I didn't understand there was ice until later on.

"Here," he added, noticing the broken book bag.

I guess I didn't realize it was broken... Might want to make that more obvious.

An unfeminine derivation of Rebecca, which was so girly it make me puke-ish.

Mind clearing up the last part for me? Grammar errors are swarming through it.

Okay, the whole Headmaster's speech was too choppy and harsh for me. I love the description of the character, but you really need to work on the dialogue.

Overall, this is an interesting storyline (and it gets better as it goes) but you really need to watch spelling and grammar.

I half expected Conrad to say, "I hate blondes too..."

Creepy! This is such a sad story, but it's so intriguing, you must post more! Or you can send it to me and we'll talk over MSN. Sorry for lack of critique; it's too early in the morning for me to remember any of the problems I noticed lol.

Lol, Crys, I almost feel apologetic for sending you all of that...I meant to break it up. Hmm. If I could only learn how to *edit* posts...

THE COOKIE THING IS IMPORTANT! ...kind of.

thanks for the tips

I get it now! Lol. I had to go back and reread it. Very good, can't wait to read the rest!

Misty Lynn wrote:Lol, Crys, I almost feel apologetic for sending you all of that...I meant to break it up. Hmm. If I could only learn how to *edit* posts...

Upper right-hand corner of your post. There should be a couple of buttons: "quote", "edit", and an "x" sign. Click "edit", fix your post, and voila! You have an edited post.

Duskglimmer said that,

Who is Tammy? You mention, Beck and Stacy, but I could find reference for any other girl except for the last line of the prologue. It just seemed a little out of place compared to the good-set ups that you were doing with Elmo and such.

I am also confused, but, I'm hooked!
It's very good, and please post more!