Strays Don't Sleep

People used to say that Ashes was one of the greatest cities of the world, the type that young men and women filled with the hope dreamed of going to one day. It was a city that made dreams and brought them to life, but was equally as ruthless to shatter the hopes of others.

Not anymore. Now it seemed that here was were all the old and forgotten dreams came to die, alongside the tired people that lived behind the city walls; an endless echo of a city that time forgot, or a war that forced us to forget.

I didn’t care what the others said.

On the day of my twentieth birthday, I came to Ashes with a dream. My friends from home said I was lost, my wits gone after the death of my mum, but I was never lost. I woke up in the dead of the night and felt the fear of the unknown, the fear of knowing exactly where I was going at the end of it all.

In a city with no hope, I searched for a cure.



The jarring rattle of the train along the crooked tracks stirred me from my sleep. By the red stain across the brows of Ashes overhead I guessed that it was either dawn or dusk, though it was impossible to tell which. The city seemed to constantly teeter on this ragged edge of time, tilting between day and night but remaining eternally trapped between the two.

The skybridge creaked under the train and the whole carriage groaned as the whistling brakes began to slow as we approached the station. My head was aching again, with that same vague agony as it always did. I sucked a breath in through my nose, knuckles white with clutching the arm of my seat. The older trains made me nervous and already my chest felt tight as the train rocked back and forth towards the sea below on either side of the carriage. Wrenching my gaze away from the churning mass of blue below, I wrapped my arms around my middle and waited for the train to slow.

A tune sounded from a speaker somewhere overhead alongside a female voice. We are now approaching Ashes. Thank you for travelling with Transtar Airlink. Stealing another glance out the window, I saw the skyscrapers jumping up from the bay and ballooning like tattered grey mushrooms as the train creaked to a stop by the station. The faceless commuters hummed around the train doors like bees as I rose and shrugged my backpack onto my shoulder.

After a short wait I squeezed through the gap of the door and I broke out into the dusty air, yelping as my feet were trodden on by the humming mass that swarmed from the train doors. Wheezing and easing my foot back onto the pavement again, I looked up and took in the city for the first time.

There was dust everywhere. It gathered in grey, powdery hillocks against the train station, dug up and swept aside by tired, grey men who slumped against their shovels. Any buildings that I could see looked half complete or as if they were in the process of being torn down; thick steel reinforcements were protruding from crumbling foundations and paneless windows glaring out with deep, black eyes. Instantly I knew why they called it Ashes. I could feel the hopelessness of every person in the train station seep into my bones and freeze them to the core. My heart began to spasm with great pangs as I was pushed and shoved aside by the hard shoulders of the crowd, the pain in my head intensifying with each blow of bone against bone. Somewhere ahead a commotion arose above the nonsensical rumble of the crowd and my eyes watered with the pain. Oh God, my head...

“Excuse me, miss?” I didn’t know if they were talking to me or not. My senses swam and lapped into one another, and the pain in my skull intensified to white agony. I reached out, grasping blindly for someone who might help, but the pain was too much. They were getting worse.

“Miss! Are you alright?” Just as I thought my head might burst, the pain lulled and sank back into my bones. I gasped as my sight returned, blurred by the tears, and saw that I was gripping the lapel of a man. My eyes rose to his face, along his beard with ash tangled through the wiry grey hairs and his ruddy face with eyes bulging. I realised that my knuckled threatened to burst through my skin with the strength of my grip on his blazer front, so I jerked by hand back towards my chest and offered him a quiet apology. Without waiting I whipped around and stepped into the shoal of commuters.

My headaches were becoming worse by the day. Now, the whole left side of my face throbbed, my eyes sockets pulsing with pain as I looked about myself, jaw muscles hanging slack with the sheer intensity of the pain past. Not quite knowing where I was going, I clutched the straps of my backpack and drifted into the crowd gathering ahead.

At the bottom of the gloomy platform there seemed to be some sort of scene playing out. Raised voices and laughter rose above the babble of the crowd that paused to watch. In the centre of the ring of bodies there was a scruffy young man with a foxy white and merle dog winding at his ankles, facing a severe looking female train conductor who stood barrier between him and the entrance of the train carriage. The crowd moulded around him and the woman and shifted uncomfortably against neighbouring shoulders and briefcases. I stretched up, peeking over the crowd, barely being able to see what was going on.

“No dogs on the train.” The fierce growl of the train conductor resonated through the crowd. I waved myself around, trying to get a better view. What was going on? Surely the people had better things to do than watch a man being thrown off a train... The dog, seeming to know the woman was talking about it, yapped and waved her tail, beating it fondly against her owner’s leg.

Seemingly not fazed by the conductor’s aggressive display, the man smiled on one side of his face and quirked a brow.

“But you see...“

“Can’t you read? No dogs, none!” Spittle flew from her mouth in white globs that sprayed the unfortunate few of the crowd who were close enough to be within range.

“I don't know about you, but I can read,” he said, shrugging his shoulders casually. His hands slipped into his jacket pockets, and I could see his blue-tinted fingers through the holes in the fabric. “What I can’t understand though, is that how did you get on the train if there’s no dogs allowed?” His tone was so conversational that I had to hold back a choking laugh. The crowd hushed with light sniggering and someone even seemed to cheer him from somewhere behind me. For some reason they must have knew him, but I didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was the lovable tramp of the town?

I couldn’t help but smile with him as it dawned on the woman just exactly what he had said. With a swooping motion she disappeared into the carriage and the curved wall of glass smoothly lowered over the door with a hiss. Some of the commuters clapped him on the shoulder, but the drama was over. The crowd dissolved into the ashy air, though some remained to talk to the strange man and his dog. I drifted forward, not meaning to stay any longer. My train card expired in a week. Feeling the cold weight of it in my pocket reminded me of how little time I had.

As I passed the man and his dog, some of the commuters walking alongside me stopped to shake his hand or lay their hands on his shoulder, as if for any excuse just to touch him. I didn’t know what made me stop again; I lingered nearby as they talked to him with smiling faces and blank eyes. “Yes, bring her to me tomorrow.” That was all he said, that same vague smile pulling his lips up at one edge. He nodded and laughed, barely speaking, just listening as they stopped to talk. Their voices fell under the sudden roar of the train as it pulled from the station, thick white smoke pluming into the grey air.

Just as I turned away, he looked towards me. Our eyes connected in the insignificant way that happened between strangers; a glance of chance, but I saw something in those pale eyes, a crisp lucidity of no other.

I noticed that I was staring, so I tore my gaze away. Feeling tired, cold and hungry, I disappeared into the crowd like smoke, as if I was never there.



It turned out that it was dusk after all. The streets were silent that night as I made my bed in the gutted remains of an old building. I swept aside the dust blanket covering the concrete and laid one of my only three possessions on the floor; a pale blue sleeping bag. The other two were the old brochure with the shining picture of the old Ashes on the front, before the war and before the decay, and the last was my mother’s watch. Its soft tick was the only constant in my uncertain life.

As I crawled into my cocoon and lay wide awake against the night, a dog crooned to the moon, a long cry shaken out in some lonely suburb, far off from where I lay. I didn’t sleep for a long time. My Granda always said that it was impossible to sleep with cold feet, but tonight I felt the coldness inside, a shard of ice against the timed beating of my heart.

The dog howled all night and until dawn, when finally I turned towards sleep with the distant crinkle of the brochure against my heart.

Six days.


--

Spoiler

Hey everyone. I hope you enjoyed the read so far. This is part one of my novelette which is currently maybe a couple of pages off being complete. Recently I've been struggling with writing in third person, so I decided to switch to first and everything went well. The subsequent parts will be posted once I feel I've had enough feedback on the others. I personally think it reads much better as a whole, but heck. :3 If you're going to review, thank you in advance!

Remember, if you like it, click like.

Hello!

So I must confess, this is my second time reading this piece. The language you use really is beautiful, it's the kind of writing you just want to read out lou, just so the words can play off your tongue and you can listen to the sounds, like poetry almost. The imagery you use is fantastic, the use of personification and metaphor was particularly lovely. I liked line near the beginning of the piece, the "teetering on the edge..." what a perfect way to set the mood of a place.

I think that is why I liked this piece so much, when you read it, you just got a whole atmosphere. For a few minutes, I was part of the world you created, and I felt like I was walking with your MC. Yet, you did it a way that was not description heavy or info-dumpy. You gave just the right of amount of imagery and let the reader fill in the rest.

But a review wouldn't be a review without a few criticisms would it? The first time I read this through, I tripped over some of the sentences, it happened to a less degree the second time, probably because I had already deciphered what you meant. You have such a lovely way of putting words together, I would hate for that to get bogged down by a few instances of awkward wording. The main problem I noticed was run-ons and mis-placed modifiers and the like, I'll put a few examples in the spoiler at the end of this review, hopefully they will help as you continue to write this.

The other thing is, there were places where I think you could have transitioned better. Your MC was talking about one thing, and then immediately after talking about something else. It was a little jolting to be honest, and I think that contributed to my confusion on the first read through, I will put an example or two in the spoiler. Sometimes all it takes is a paragraph break to clear something up.

The last thing I would like to talk about is necessary information vs. unnecessary information. Obviously, and I probably don't have to tell you this, you want everything in your novel to serve a purpose, a step to a larger goal if you well. That goal could be to establish: setting or mood, patterns of behavior for characters, foreshadowing for some bigger event, and countless other things. I really think you foreshadowed excellently with man at the train station, you know he is going to come into play later, and I have a good sense of who he is as a person. However, I think there are some places where you give us too much information, like the description of the man who catches you MC when she faints. As I read it, I was wondering why you spent the time describing him, it felt like he might have something to do with your story later on, and if he does, kudos to you. If he does not though, I might rethink the inclusion of the detail. Your MC could just say "an old man caught me" or something to that effect. This might just be my personal preference, as always, it's your story, the choice is yours. Wow. Long rambling paragraph, sorry about that. >.<

Spoiler

Awkward Wording

It was a city that made dreams and brought them to life, but was equally as ruthless to shatter the hopes of others.

This seems a little stilted to me. I think that's because the phrases on either side of the comma are not parallel. Parallel means that you use the same sequence of word types for each phrase. So if one side looks like adjective-noun-conjuntion-pronoun, the other side should look like that as well. But enough of the technical stuff, the important thing is that the sentence sounds good and makes sense to the readers right? This just seems a bit off, I might play with the wording a bit, and if your struggling, see if making the phrases parallel helps.

I woke up in the dead of the night and felt the fear of the unknown, the fear of knowing exactly where I was going at the end of it all.

This bit is confusing because first your MC says that she has a fear of the unknown and then she feels the fear of knowing exactly in the same moment. Aren't the two realizations mutually exclusive?

By the red stain across the brows of Ashes overhead I guessed that it was either dawn or dusk, though it was impossible to tell which.

I understand what you are trying to say here, but it took a bit for me to get it. It's actually beautiful imagery. I thought a bit on how you should fix this, and I think if you take the "s" of brows it will be a little less confusing. Ashes is one city right? Shouldn't it have one brow?

The skybridge creaked under the train and the whole carriage groaned as the whistling brakes began to slow as we approached the station.

Wouldn't it be the wheels that slow, instead of the breaks? Also, later in this paragraph you talk about "waiting for the train to slow" and I had already thought the train had slowed to a stop. Might want to clear that up.

Any buildings that I could see looked half complete or as if they were in the process of being torn down; thick steel reinforcements were protruding from crumbling foundations and paneless windows glaring out with deep, black eyes.

There is another parallelism issue here you need a "were" before glaring, I think that runs more smoothly.

Now, the whole left side of my face throbbed, my eyes sockets pulsing with pain as I looked about myself, jaw muscles hanging slack with the sheer intensity of the pain past.

Alright, I understand what you mean here, but it took me a few read-through to get it. I think the order is what is confusing me. You talking about your MC looking about herself, but then you go immediately back to her face. So it might work better to set it up like. "The whole left side of my face throbbing, my eye sockets pulsing with pain, my jaw muscles hanging slack with the sheer intensity of pain past, I looked about myself." Okay, so I don't like that either, but you see what I mean? I would put the like observations together, and then move to something else.

So that's the first half. My biggest suggestion when finding and fixing those stilted sentences is to have a friend or someone read your story out loud to you, if they have to stop to decipher something, that's usually a sign you should rework something.


Transitions

I could feel the hopelessness of every person in the train station seep into my bones and freeze them to the core. My heart began to spasm with great pangs as I was pushed and shoved aside by the hard shoulders of the crowd, the pain in my head intensifying with each blow of bone against bone. Somewhere ahead a commotion arose above the nonsensical rumble of the crowd and my eyes watered with the pain. Oh God, my head...

I apologize for the long quote, but I think it is necessary. You go from talking about the the hopeless place that is Ashes, to your MC having this attack, within the same paragraph. I think you need to split this up. I think a paragraph break would help. The other thing I might include is more build-up to the attack, right now, it kind of comes out of nowhere, although you did reference her headaches when she was on the train. Why did she have the attack in that moment? Do crowds and commotions cause the headaches? Or is it intense human emotion that does it? It was a little confusing, because your MC was talking about other's depression when it happened, so it makes me think the two are related. Basically, I might give us some more information here.

I really really liked this. You have quite an eloquent way of writing, it's poetic. You did a fantastic job establishing an atmosphere with this piece, I might just work on some of the nit-picky things, and this could be truly amazing. If you have any comments or questions feel free to PM me!

Audrey

Hey Audrey! I'd just like to start off by thanking you for such an in depth review. I appreciate that they take a long time to write, so I'm glad you chose my piece to review. :3

So I must confess, this is my second time reading this piece. The language you use really is beautiful, it's the kind of writing you just want to read out lou, just so the words can play off your tongue and you can listen to the sounds, like poetry almost. The imagery you use is fantastic, the use of personification and metaphor was particularly lovely. I liked line near the beginning of the piece, the "teetering on the edge..." what a perfect way to set the mood of a place.

Gosh, thank you! I worked really hard on this beginning. As with most writers, I found the start of the story most difficult to execute, but with your advice I think I'll be able to patch up the more obvious mistakes quite well.

I think that is why I liked this piece so much, when you read it, you just got a whole atmosphere. For a few minutes, I was part of the world you created, and I felt like I was walking with your MC. Yet, you did it a way that was not description heavy or info-dumpy. You gave just the right of amount of imagery and let the reader fill in the rest.

The atmosphere is particularly important in this piece, so I'm glad you thought I pulled that off well.

But a review wouldn't be a review without a few criticisms would it?

Of course not! Roll 'em in.

The first time I read this through, I tripped over some of the sentences, it happened to a less degree the second time, probably because I had already deciphered what you meant. You have such a lovely way of putting words together, I would hate for that to get bogged down by a few instances of awkward wording.

I do that a lot. Sorry if it spoiled your reading. I think I try a little too hard at times, but thankfully they shouldn't be hard to fix. :3 I've looked through your spoiler at the bottom and I entirely agree. I'll go back and fix everything I can there, so thank you for being so thorough.

As I read it, I was wondering why you spent the time describing him, it felt like he might have something to do with your story later on, and if he does, kudos to you

.

No kudos. Dx *Hangs head in shame*

I really really liked this. You have quite an eloquent way of writing, it's poetic. You did a fantastic job establishing an atmosphere with this piece, I might just work on some of the nit-picky things, and this could be truly amazing. If you have any comments or questions feel free to PM me!

Once again, thanks! I'd love to return the favour in any way I can, so please leave a link in my inbox if you need anything reviewed. I'm not that hot on poetry but I'm willing to try, and I'll be happy to review anything else for you in return.

-Moo

I have to apologise because I have the feeling I am the reason that this has such a high number of page views. I kept dipping in and out of it, reading it in dribs and drabs, while I was busy studying. Suffice to say, I really like this!


The little bit at the very beginning, that's almost like a mini-prologue, but the kind where nothing really happens. We're told a little about Ashes, and a little about our MC, but at the moment there's nothing really cohesive about it. How many cities are there out there in the world that are described as the place that dreams are made, but where it's equally likely that they'll be shattered? It just seems to disjointed and, at present, irrelevant. I think if you're wanting to emphasise the point that Ashes is important, it might be better if you incorporate it a little into the body of the piece?

Plus I really like the idea of the piece starting out with the clickety-clack of the train /nerd

I like your setting, it's interesting. I get the feeling that there's something, slightly, post apocalyptic about this? There's the brief mentioning of a war, and then a skybridge (which sounds quite exciting) and that while she's on a train, it's operating by a company that sounds more like an airline. There's the ashes everywhere too, and I think I'm beginning to get an idea about why you went for the name, but every time I read it it really throw me for a loop. Ashes isn't really the sort of name I'd expect for a place, every time I come across it my mind thinks of the noun and the dust, but I get the feeling that this will have more relevance as we go on?

The migraine/headache that the MC gets confuses me a little, because I'm not too sure why it's happening. The dust and the people are both mentioned as if they're the reasons for this, but I get the feeling that the cure our MS is looking for is related to this, it just seems like we're being given reasons for why what's happening to her is happening to her, and I'm not sure if that was your intention?

Just as I turned away, he looked towards me. Our eyes connected in the insignificant way that happened between strangers; a glance of chance, but I saw something in those pale eyes, a crisp lucidity of no other.

I noticed that I was staring, so I tore my gaze away. Feeling tired, cold and hungry, I disappeared into the crowd like smoke, as if I was never there.

While I like the idea of the glance between strangers, it seems like there two parts don't quite match up? I got the feeling that their contact was that brief sort of meeting of eyes, when you have that breath of a connection before you lower your gaze, rather than staring?

My issues with the end are more of a practical manner, however. If Ashes has commuters, then it has economy, and so it would likely have some kind of hotel, so it surprises me that our MC has already resigned herself to sleeping in the streets in a strange and new city, and doesn't seem to be the least bit worried about this. But then I think you were perhaps aiming to go for the idea that she herself was a kind of stray? Also, only three possessions? If she doesn't have any money for a hotel, then does she have things to eat, something to drink? A spare change of clothes? I get what you were trying to say, but she just seems so ill prepared.

I want to read more of this, really I do. I was reading this over and over while I was revising, trying to hypothesise what was going to happen next, what our MC was looking for, what had happened to ashes, and what the significance of everything was. You've got that hook and it really has dragged me in and now I'm desperate for more! You have some lovely descriptions and paint some wonderful pictures with words. Please, if you do post some more of this, do let me know! I'd love to read it :D

I hope that I've been of some use to you! If you'd like me to elaborate or explain on anything I've said ( tend to waffle on a fair bit sometimes) then please, do let me know! :D


-Tinny

Tinny, thanks for reviewing! I only just noticed this had gotten a reply there now, so sorry for the late response.

I changed this part of the story quite a lot. In the beginning it originally discussed Ashes before the war. Back then it didn't even have that name. I might allude to this later in the story, seems nice to supplement the plot, but I'd rather not big readers down too much. I mean, their surroundings are so utterly depressing that I wanted to sort of avoid going into more detail about Ashes' past; in my own head I know all of it, but I'm not sure if the reader would be interested in knowing.

I'll take into account what you said about my MC and the glance, etc. My MC is most definately a 'stray' of sorts. I'm finding it hard building her past into the story however; definitely something that requires my attention when I go back and redraft. After my exams are over I'll be going back to this piece, finishing it up, and then hopefully posting it into advanced critiques so as readers can get a better, overall view of the whole story.

Again, thank you so much. Comments were very much appreciated, and I'm glad you enjoyed reading.

-Moo