The Devil's Pocket Watch (2.2)

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Some say that freedom comes after graduating High School – that wasn’t the case for Kristabel Westchester, who spent her entire life waiting for the day when she would be handed the key to unlock her chains. Growing up in a controlling family wasn’t her cup of tea. However, her wishes for freedom are granted when she meets an escaped convict – from Hell, a demon named Crosse. He hands over the key to her chains all right, but at the price of her mortal life. Well, there’s no greater freedom than death, right?


Note:
Spoiler
I've edited the previous part of this chapter just a tad bit. You don't necessarily have to read it. The only minor changes I made were Crosse now having a 'dragon' knife with him. The knock on the door becoming room service but not room service at the same time and also Kris actually creating some sort of a tantrum. I think it makes the situation, previously, more believable. Browse through it if you want to see her bite Lavira's hand. Link: topic80424.html

P.S. I had some difficulty writing this part. Let me know if it's any good.

P.P.S. I decided I wanted to add a bit of humor to Kris's character. Therefore forgive me if her character is a bit different than what you knew previously. I'm working on adding bits and pieces of that humor from the beginning chapters. ;)

Kay, I'm done! Thank your for your time! <3

-Pink

Chapter Two

Magic and Birds

A chilly breeze crawled up her spine and lifted every hair on her body. There was a woman inside the room. Her body was frail and she wore dirty clothes but had looked like she had taken a bath and never found something clean to change into. She was by the windowsill, in a chair with her hands and legs tied as well. A mirror image of herself.
They met eyes for a second, looking at each other from across the dark room. Then the lady bit down on the cloth in her mouth and tugged her wrists. She tugged for about five minutes without mercy before her left hand finally slid under the ropes. Kris watched with amazement as the woman pulled the cloth out of her mouth with a sigh and then freed herself from the chair’s prison.
She stood up, her shoulders rolling as she stretched every tiny muscle. Then she looked at her.
Kris suddenly shifted away, afraid of the lady as she walked towards her in small steps.
The lady went down on her knees and began untying the ropes on Kris’s arms then proceeded with her ankles as Kris took off Crosse’s handkerchief. Even if it was on for only a few minutes, the sides of her mouth burned as if someone grazed them with a hot iron. She wondered if Pacific felt the same way when she put on the horse’s mouth piece. She felt like a bad person just thinking about it.
“What’s your name? They get you too?” the woman asked.
“What’s going on? What do they want with us?” Kris asked instead.
“I’m Melissa,” she answered, “and they’re collecting sinners, apparently.”
“Sinners? But I’m not a sinner, I’ve never done anything bad,” she retorted.
Melissa laughed, showing a row of small perfect teeth. “Everyone’s a sinner. I don’t know what the hell they’re planning but we should get out of here before they come back,” she said, throwing the ropes to the side and looking up.
“How?”
She got up and went to the window. Her body was small but was more mature than Kris’s who was like a flat stick. Melissa grunted, putting her foot on the chair nearby, she lifted up and took down the curtains.
“What are you doing?” Kris asked.
“Have you ever fought for your life before?” she asked with all seriousness. “There’s a time in our life that we have to do it, at least once.”
“Huh?” Kris got off the chair and walked up to her. “What are you talking about? Are you saying that we have to like, fight them?” Kris ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head. “Did you see him? He’s got a knife and who knows what else he could be carrying with him -- guns, bombs, that lady even used some sort of anesthetic to kidnap me!” she poked her own chest.
Melissa took off the curtains and held the long pole in her hands. She looked down with a salty expression. “Then would you like to go back to the chair? Should I tie you up again so they can cut you like a piece of strawberry cake? Look kid, you only have one life, I’d rather not go down without a fight, no matter the chances.”
“But, there are other ways,” Kris suggested. She walked towards the door and tried to open it.
“It’s locked from the outside,” Melissa answered, still standing on the chair.
Kris bit her lip but then noticing the phone on the table, she picked it up.
“The wire’s cut.”
Holding the phone up to her ear, there was no tone. She set the phone back down and sighed. She looked back at the door and imagined herself pounding on it, then Crosse yanking it open and stabbing her with his dragon knife before watching her bleed to death. She frowned; he wasn’t going to let her get away after she made that ruckus. Was there really no other way than getting her hands dirty? From the corner of her eyes, the chair came back into view. She couldn’t just sit there and take it either, though.
She walked back to Melissa, swallowing the stone in her throat.
“Find something hard,” Melissa answered, not being very helpful.
The door opened with a squeal as Crosse stepped into the bedroom. They jumped in surprise as he looked them up and down. His like daggers that cut through their bodies with one glare.
“How…?” he asked in astonishment, unable to figure out how they were both up and walking around.
Melissa didn’t waste a second. She jumped off the chair, bouncing across the large bed and swung her pole at him. He ducked easily, as if he read her movements a second before. Melissa snarled as her feet hit the ground, and whipped the heavy pole back the other way.
“You bastard!” she screamed. Crosse stepped away, ducked, dodged it and then grabbed her arm, twisted it until the pole slipped through her hold, hitting the carpet.
“Next time you devise some sort of escape plan, please size up your opponent first.” He shoved her back, clearly irritated.
Melissa’s eyebrows came together as she rubbed her wrist. “I’m not going to let you ruin my life,” she growled. Then out of the blue, she picked up the cordless telephone on table and swung it across his head. Crosse’s head snapped to the side, sending him a few steps back. That second of surprise gave Melissa the time to pick up the heavy pole again. She thrust the end of the stick into his gut, making him bow over and then slammed it again onto his back. The crack of wood hitting spine made Kris cringe. Crosse coughed and flattened on the ground like a pancake. Melissa leaped over his body and ran out the door - pole in hand, without giving a second glance back.
Kris watched as Crosse slowly rolled over, clutching his gut with shut eyes. “Damn this human body,” he whined.
Her feet were glued to the ground as she watched him slowly gather himself. There were crashing sounds coming from the living room and she was sure it was Lavira and Melissa going one on one.
Oh, come on, she whispered, this isn’t the time for you to pee your pants. Finally with a forceful mental slap, her legs moved towards the door.
Her foot lifted to jump over Crosse’s limp body but he stretched his fingers and caught her ankle, nearly tripping her. The touch sent a wave chills up her leg and hit the core of her chest like a bat. She looked down at the snarl that haunted his face and suddenly she was more afraid of getting caught by him a second time than dying.
She tugged her leg but his hold was too strong. Without thinking she kicked, the front of her free foot hitting his crotch. The kick was strong enough to send bolts of lightning up his stomach and possibly other places. Crosse let out a painful grunt, releasing his hold. “In the name of the Devil,” he coughed, tearing up.
She ran out of the room, closing the door behind her, knowing it would trap him in there. When she turned around, Lavira was gone. The kitchen and living room were a complete mess with chairs turned over and broken glass on the floor. The red wine bottle was on the floor, the red liquid looked like blood as it pooled around the shards of glass.
Kris couldn’t help but imagine two Amazon women fighting in the kitchen causing this mess. It was probable that Lavira went after Melissa so she didn’t waste time by jumping over the broken glass and pushing the chairs of her way so she could reach the front door. However, when her fingers reached for the knob the door to the bedroom flew across the room, landing on the floor of the living room with a thud.
He broke the door? How could someone even possess that kind of strength?
She shook her head free of paranormal thoughts, pulling the door open running out into the hallway. The sound of her heart beating and her steps echoing made it seem like she was listening to some sort of classical thriller music in her head. She peered over her shoulder and saw Crosse walk out the front door, catching her eyes.
“Stop right there!” he yelled, pointing his finger at her.
She swore she hit him hard enough in the weak spot that he’d never get back up but apparently he had balls of steel. Spinning around the corner, she halted by the elevator and pressed the down arrow nearly twenty times per second. When she turned back towards the hallway, the music in her head elevated into a crescendo.
“Don’t run!” Crosse snarled, skidding around the corner. “Stop!”
The elevator doors dinged and opened up to an empty space. She shoved herself through the doors even though they hadn’t opened up all the way. She quickly pressed the button to close the doors. She prayed silently, tasting fear like she never tasted it before. She couldn’t even remember the last time she was in such a ridiculous situation. Living at home in her own boring little world, the most dangerous thing that could happen was falling off her horse.
Crosse’s footsteps made their way to the elevator more quickly than she expected. His fingers reached inside, holding the left metal door before it had the chance to close. She screamed, pressing her back to the wall.
He was going to open it and when he did, he’d surely cut her open like a butcher. The doors stopped closing and began to open again.
No!
She stepped forward with a small ounce of bravery and took his hand, biting down on his knuckles as if they were a piece of steak.
“Ah!” He pulled his fingers free, the skin scratched against the top of her teeth. She pushed the button to close the doors again and lifted her eyes to see Crosse looking at his hand and then back at her.


There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.
-W. Somerset Maugham




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Hello there Wifey!

The door opened with a squeal as Crosse stepped into the bedroom. They jumped in surprise as he looked them up and down. His like daggers that cut through their bodies with one glare.
I think you're missing a word there ;)

She shook her head free of paranormal thoughts, pulling the door open running out into the hallway.
I dislike the part in bold. It's as if you were forcing that thought down our throats. They was nothing paranormal in her wondering about his strength. Maybe she was bewildered, understandly, but no more than that, I think.

I've heard stories of mothers able to lift impossible weights to save their children, and my own uncle lifted a 600 lbs bike with one hand to pull his wife out. These things happen. But his strength being paranormal? Meh.

And that was it for the nitpicks! I'm having a lot of difficulty sizing up your MC because she keeps changing. After a few chapters of having her acting one way, I'll get back into it but for now, it's a little difficult.

I think the action flowed well and was quite easy to follow. My issue is probably with Crosse. It seemed so easy to overpower him. And Kris's thought about pain shooting up like bolts of lightning. Um, how would she know that? I mean, we know it hurts, but why be so specific about something she couldn't experience firsthand?

I'm interested to see how the next chappy will go, considering how different this one was. It was good, but it'll be nice to see how the next one ties in to Kris' new personality.

Ah! Yes, also! I haven't read the previous edited chapter, but in the one I read, Crosse tells her she's going to be her dove. So when Melissa asks what Sin she is, why doesn't she mention the dove? Or has that changed?

Much loff,

Wifey xxxxx




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The red wine bottle was on the floor, the red liquid looked like blood as it pooled around the shards of glass.

You used "red" twice here. You could make it: "The red wine bottle was on the floor, its contents pooled..."

The sound of her heart beating and her steps echoing made it seem like she was listening to some sort of classical thriller music in her head.

Hm.. That sounded a little awkward to me. When a girl runs away from a serial killer, she won't have music playing in her head (even if it were a metaphor). She'd have questions, confusions, worries, horrors. You know what I mean?

She swore she hit him hard enough

I think there is a missing "and" before "she hit"

***********************************
Alrighty! So, those were the nitpicks and I agree with Tanya's too. But forget about the nitpicks for a second because I have a few thoughts I want to share with you.

Honestly, I didn't like how she reacted to Malissa's decision to fight for their lives. Surely, every personality has its own visions and it was very fine to be scared of the weird and creepy man who actually kidnapped her. BUT! how could she be so skeptic now and then beats him so hard after a few seconds? I can tell you that I'm the skeptic sort of person and I wouldn't dare to hit so hard even if I wanted to. I'd be too scared and... skeptic.

So! I know you're the author and you have absolutely every right to write anything you want, but as a reader I tell you this: You might want to make her willing to fight from the start, or even to make her the one who's proposing to fight! I'd believe that a lot easier. I mean, we're still getting to know her, right? It's absolutely okay for us to see that she gathers her strengths and willpower when she's in trouble, even if she's apparently weak. You know what I mean, Sweets?

I liked the way you delivered the movements and the action in that piece. It was very visible and very well-written. And as long as you have that, you don't have to worry about writing an action novel at all!

Hm.. I think that is all I came up with. And remember what we decided to do! We're going to write and not bother ourselves with rewriting too much. I'm not sure, but I think you're tying yourself with possibilities and over-thinking the characters. Sweety, just WRITE! You're an amazingly amazing writer! Lol that wasn't very literary, right? But it's true.

Ask me, ask me anything! God luck!
<3
P.S. Sorry if there is any spelling mistakes, but my brother keeps rushing me! D:
I'm back to my YWS after months of disappearance, hoping that I'd gain the immunity of books and quills against the harmful realism of our world.

In case this made no sense, I'm just saying that I'm happy I'm back!




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Hi :D

They met eyes for a second, looking at each other from across the dark room. Then the lady bit down on the cloth in her mouth and tugged her wrists. She tugged for about five minutes without mercy before her left hand finally slid under the ropes.


As I mentioned in the previous section, I think that Kris is really seeing too much detail for such a dark room (and this comes from someone that's been described as having 'owl-eyes'). I get that she could probably see Melissa's face, but not in enough detail to be able to meet eyes properly.

Also, five minutes is that length of time when, when you're doing something it flies by, but when you're bored or not stuck somewhere it drags on and on, it seems like it would be a bit much to me, considering the current pace of this?

When Kris and Melissa get talking, watch your descriptors. I think up to this point they've not been noticeable, but here you've used 'asked' and awful lot and it sticks out. I get that they're asking each other questions but it seems like overkill.

"[...]Should I tie you up again so they can cut you like a piece of strawberry cake?[...]"

This, I like :D a lot. I think that kind of almost inappropriate description works in this instance because there's such a strong juxtaposition between something as sweet as strawberry cake, and something as morbid as being slice up.

She looked back at the door and imagined herself pounding on it, then Crosse yanking it open and stabbing her with his dragon knife before watching her bleed to death.

I'm not really sure that I think this would happen? I would have thought that in this situation, Kris would be fell of adrenaline, y'know with the whole fight-or-flight mechanism, and whenever I've been in that kind of situation I don't really have the time to think about things in that great detail, or hypotheticals, you act more without the though behind it. Also, I dunno, Kris still seems to be taking this in her stride, and doesn't seem as bothered by what's happening as I think I would be in the situation?

They jumped in surprise as he looked them up and down. His like daggers that cut through their bodies with one glare.

Would they have really jumped? I think maybe something like started was more what you were looking for? Also, I tihnk you're missing a word there.

“Next time you devise some sort of escape plan, please size up your opponent first.” He shoved her back, clearly irritated.

I do like Crosse's reaction here, nice and nonchalant :3

The crack of wood hitting spine made Kris cringe. Crosse coughed and flattened on the ground like a pancake.

Some of your descriptions, metaphors, and similes are really really nice. Some, like the pancake here, just don't seem appropriate in the situation.

Without thinking she kicked, the front of her free foot hitting his crotch.

I think that it would actually be pretty hard to reach his crotch? If he's only just caught her ankle with an outstretched hand it seems unlike she'd be able to reach that far, and if he's sprawled on the floor it's unlikely she'd be able to get her foot there at all. I think his face would be a better alternative, and it's much more of a human reaction to want to save your face than it is your groin.

Kris couldn’t help but imagine two Amazon women fighting in the kitchen causing this mess.

Again, it just doesn't seem like these kinds of hypotheticals are really appropriate in the situation. Does Kris really have the time to start wondering about what's happened, or is she more concerned with getting the hell out of there?

The sound of her heart beating and her steps echoing made it seem like she was listening to some sort of classical thriller music in her head.

Similarly here, I'm not sure if this was you trying to inject some humour into things, it's just that it doesn't seem like it really works. I think it you want to make Kris funnier, that's fine! It's just that when you've got some guy that you think is going to kill you you're more concerned with saving your skin than anything else.

In my opinion this half of the chapter feels weaker than the previous one, I think that the humour you've been trying to add in just doesn't really gel because, as I mentioned, it just doesn't seem like the kind of situation where it's appropriate, and so the weird metaphors and little added bits shine out like a neon light because they don't knit in properly to the rest of the piece.

That said, I still enjoyed this. Just not as much as the previous section. You've answered some questions, left other ones dangling deliciously, and added yet even more to the mix that it leaves me somewhat disappointed that I've caught up and just can't keep reading ahead. I'll definitely be keeping tabs on this novel :D

Hope that I've been helpful and explained everything clearly. This time I get to say that I look forwards to you posting more!


-Tinny
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