Paper Whispers-Chapter 1

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Dry leaves rustled across the avenue, paper whispers in the dark. Just out of reach from the pools of light that illuminated the skeletal trees lining the pathways. The occasional snowflake or two tumbled down from the dark expanse of the sky above, an ominous hint of what was to come. Here, New York stood still. The buzzing energy and life that filled the neighbourhood during the day was now confined to the warm interior of a late night cafe and my destination. I pulled the edge of my hood further down over my face, a vain attempt to shield myself from the worst of the icy wind that whipped the leaves into a frenzied dance at my feet. My breath hung suspended in front of me, a sparkling vapour that clung to my eye lashes. The light from the cafe beckoned me, like a moth to a flame. A promise of warmth and comfort, of food and people, too tempting to ignore. The enticing sounds of laughter and music filtered out as a patron closed the door behind them. A slight smile pulled at the corner of my mouth as I thought of the hot, steaming cup of coffee that I knew waited for me inside.

The still form of a dog lay at the foot of one the trees, a silent sentry watching my passing with a quiet intelligence. I faltered. Its white fur glistened in the harsh fluorescent light. Pushing itself to its feet, easily half my height, it trotted towards me. Stumbling back a step, I tripped over a gnarled root that had broken through the cement, landing heavily on the concrete. My heart pounded in my chest at the approach of this huge creature. When there was no more then a foot separating us it stopped, sitting back on its haunches, if I had wanted to I could have reached out and touched the soft velvet of its snout. It woofed softly, sending a warm, meaty cloud straight into my face, mouth spread wide in a wolf-ish smile, tongue lolling freely. And suddenly as if I now longer could contain it a laugh burst from my lips, shaky at first, I reached out and scratched the dog’s neck. A prickling on the back of my neck had me pause. A boy stood just a few steps away, his hands deep in his pockets of his leather jacket, a shock of blond hair hung in his eyes. He seemed incredulous and shocked at me sitting there. Then again, I think I would have been the same if I had come across someone sitting on the ground with a giant dog loaming over them, laughing hysterically. Heat rushed into my cheeks as I scrambled back to my feet and brushed off the seat of my jeans that had picked up a fine layer of snow.
“Is he yours?”
He continued to stare me, confusion evident by his expression. I shifted awkwardly under his scrutiny. Clearing my throat I repeated the question. He blinking dazedly as if waking and looked down at the dog as if noticing him for the first time, the dog that was now leaning heavily against my leg, pleading for attention.
“Emm... Yeah, I guess he is.” The dog shot him what could almost be described as a withering look before pressing his cold, wet nose into my palm.
I smiled and bent down to scratch him behind the ear and was rewarded with a lick on the cheek. I wrinkled my nose as wiped the saliva off, laughing.
“Is he an Alsatian?” I asked, thinking of a dog we had once owned when I was young. Comparing the memory with the animal in front of me but the images didn’t seem to quite add up. Something in the inky depths of the dog’s eyes told that the dog that I had known and the one that sat in front of me were not the same.
“Something like that, I guess.” The silence returned heavier then before and finally I had enough. Avoiding meeting the guys eyes I ran a self-conscious hand through my auburn hair that fell across my face, tucking it behind my ear.
“Well,” I said, straightening. “I should be going. My friend’s waiting for me.” Not necessarily a lie, but Cara probably wouldn’t be at the cafe for another ten minutes. He raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t comment.
I had taken two steps before warm fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping me. I glanced down at them before meeting his eyes again, feeling myself bristle at the contact. He glanced down at his hand in surprise dropping my wrist before I had a chance to rip it from his grasp. He took a step back, hands once again shoved deep into the pockets of his black leather jacket. He opened his mouth and closed it again, verging on saying something but thinking better of it.
He was good looking in a careless way with messy, sun-kissed, blond hair and subtly chiselled features. But his eyes held my attention as I met them head-on for the first time. The intense dark green was breath-taking, almost unnatural in their vividness.
The silence held a new tension.
“I’ll see you around then.” There was an unspoken promise behind those words that had the fine hair on the back of my neck rise. Turning on his heel he left before I could question the statement. The dog sat up, stretching, jaws open wide in a yawn displaying canines easily the length of one of my fingers and with a parting wack of his tail took off after the guy. Leaving me staring after them, bemused.

The rich, sweet aroma of coffee welcomed me as soon as I opened the cafe door. I unwound my scarf with numb fingers and collected my coffee at the counter before curling up on the last remaining couch at the very back, under the upstairs balcony. The place, usually pretty quite, was packed tonight. A small platform had be erected in the corner, a girl sat on the edge of it, chatting with the people at the closet table, her guitar lying forgotten beside her. Glancing down at my watch I realised that Cara was late, which wasn’t unusual but an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Shaking it off, I took out my battered copy of "Romeo and Juliet" from my bag and started reading through it for English class on Monday, under lining sentences in preparation for the inevitable essay as I waited.
My mind buzzed as I read, running through what had just happened, fuelled by caffeine. I rubbed my wrist where he had grabbed it, remembering the warmth of his fingers on my skin. Who was he? And the dog, if it was even a dog. The more I thought about it, the more uncertain I became if that was what it was. I had never seen a dog like that. A sudden silence, louder then any scream woke me from my stupor. Something was wrong, every head was turned in anticipation at a woman who was standing at the counter, her voice was shrill and hysterical as she motioned out the door. Catching a few words I felt my stomach drop.
“...a-and she was j-just l-lying there. A-at first I t-t-thought she....Blood!...It’s horrible!....What w-would do that?!”
Noise returned to the cafe in a rush, as if someone had press a play button. The previously relaxed atmosphere was tense. A sick curiosity tugged at me and before I had consciously decided it I was on my feet, making my way around tables and pushing past people to the door. Outside the manager was one the phone to 911, eyes closed, massaging the bridge of his nose where his glasses had slipped.
My eyes where drawn to the only splash of colour on the street, a red bundle, dusted white with newly fallen snow, under one of the nearby trees, clashing violently with the pristine snow underfoot. On autopilot and unnoticed, I felt my feet moving underneath me, bringing me closer to what I know waited for me. The girl lay curled up, her red coat bunched up and crumpled. Her blonde hair, held back from her face with an Alice band, was matted with an inky and sticky substance that gleamed under the street light, filling my mouth with its metallic taste. Blood.
The ragged flesh the severed her throat contrasted viciously with the smooth, pale planes of her face. Blue eyes wide, unseeing, gazed into space. Her lips were parted, surprised. Her small hand clutching the gold cross that had hung from her neck, the chain now broken.
A confusing maze of footprints trampled the snow around her where I stood. My eyes followed the only set of foot prints that led of in the opposite direction, disappear when the reached the confines of an alley untouched by snow.

My breath hitched as understanding of what I was seeing hit me.

Cara.
Last edited by SummerFollies on Sun Jul 31, 2011 4:02 pm, edited 6 times in total.
 "The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real ... for a moment at least ... that long magic moment before we wake."-George R.R.Martin




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Hello! Welcome to YWS.

This is a really nice story! I love the scene you set up; your imagery was beautiful. I love the picture you put in my head. Nice job on your spelling and grammar. I found only two punctuation errors.

Now, the first paragraph was amazing. You immediantly set the scene; it was a beautifully written setting. However, it was too long. I think you could've broken it up. From the end of the description of the scene to the 'I'-that would've been a perfect spot to split the paragraph into two paragraphs. I hate reading long paragraphs. ^-^

All in all, nice job.

- Ariel.
“I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then."
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I had to re-read this, because I get lost easily. No worries, not because it's bad, because it is, in fact very good, which is why I got lost. Either way, I like it, keep going, definitely! I'd love to read whatever comes next. :)
“There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.”- William Shakespeare




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I'm not the one for really long reviews and I'm not in the mood for it right now because it's a lazy day for me today but I'm going to try my best.

First: What needs work; bad news come first in my world

Dry leaves rustled across the avenue, paper whispers in the dark, just out of reach from the pools of light that illuminated the skeletal trees lining the pathways. The occasional snowflake or two tumbled down from the dark expanse of the sky above, an ominous hint of what was to come.
Dry leaves flew across the avenue(or use another word for rustled) and the rustling of papers was at a whisper in the dark(if that's what you mean by 'paper whispers in the dark)Okay now there should be a period after dark. Just out of reach from the pools of light that illuminated the skeletal trees lining the pathways, the occasional snowflake or two tumbled down (I'm not sure about the word tumbled but its your story) from the dark expanse of the sky above, an ominous hint of what was to come


Some of your sentences, like this one, seemed to be run on like you're trying to put so much detail but some come out awkward so look those over. Read it out loud.

Now the good news :)

I love the story. I like stories full of suspense because people are curious and making people curious of what's going to happen next is to your advantage here. So use it wisely. Hahahaha. Welcome to YWS. Don't be intimidated if you get some really hard reviews because the people here (well the ones I met) are genuinely nice and they're just trying to help you. You have a good beginning here. Keep writing. Good luck.
True confidence leaves no room for jealousy. When you know your are great, you have no need to hate.
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So, the idea definitely has me intrigued. I have a vague idea of where things are headed from here (of course, as I'm a fanfiction-ite my ideas may be a bit on the absurd and colorful side) and I am mostly liking it so far. I have a few problems. One of which is--I get a vague idea of what's going on surrounding, but there's no clear cut view. It's like the description is there, but I'm not getting a mental picture of it. This could be a street anywhere--and it reads like one. I'd suggest working on that, giving some background to the setting. Settings are about as important as plot points in my mind.

Otherwise, the blond guy acts kind of in a way--okay, so I can't say much. I'm a mite anthrophobic personally but, yeah, if someone I didn't know who had a giant dog silently grabbed my wrist I'd probably yell for help or something, not notice his appearance. Or think he was attractive.

Of course, that just shows how I think. I assume most people do not expect to be attacked by their fellow human beings, but--well, what can I say? That passage makes me uneasy.


So, okay. I just got to the end (started the review early)--and I was right! They were a pair of creeps. I assume the MC will be in epic oh-my-gosh-the-guilt mode for the next few chapters.

Small question, though: If her throat was slashed, how is the cross still hanging on? I know, I'm totes morbid, but I have to wonder if that makes any sense--because I like sense.

Otherwise, pretty nice job setting it up--it has me curious to see what happens next and I hope you expose more about the surrounding area and characters, if you'd be so kind. The style and grammar were pretty good in general, however.

Some Edits:

“Well,” I said, straightening. “I should be going. My friend’s waiting for me.” Not necessarily a lie, but Cara probably wouldn’t be at the cafe for another ten minutes. He raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t comment.

"Shaking it off, I took out my battered copy of "Romeo and Juliet" from my bag and started reading through it for English class on Monday, underlining sentences in preparation for the inevitable essay as I waited."
My SPD senses are tingling.



Just think happy thoughts and you'll fly.
— Peter Pan