Young Writers Society

I got inspiration for this piece from this:

[spoiler]
"The world is not full of energy and delight but of madness, greed and corruption. Living is hateful, and death is no better, and from end to end of the universe this is the first and last and only truth."
[/spoiler]

Anyways, this is yet another little excerpt from my story. I will write the first bit of the Chapter tomorrow...for now I have only written the second. xD

--------------------------

This was not the Ayra he knew. She was different now; fangs bared, dripping ebrethil, eyes flashing with a passionate fury. Each night-black hair on her pelt seemed charged with static force. A menacing snarl ripped past teeth like ivory thorns.
He swayed against the waves of pure rage that emanated from her, the walls on undiluted hatred.
On either side of him, cliffs of sheer ice bit the air like the frozen teeth of a great beast. The Winter sky was a vault of pale flame.
The wing beats of Lost souls sounded from higher up, and he fancied for a second that they would take him away. But they soon passed over the ridge, and with them went his hope.

The man's terror scent maddened her; each frantic beat of his heart seemed to mocking for her every second she delayed in taking his life. The high singing of his blood through his veins filled her with a fierce ache and she snarled; a deep thunder that shook the ice.
He backed up and she leapt forwards slightly, scattering snow over him. His face contorted in terror and he backed up again. But there was nothing behind him but air; empty, unyielding to his frantic grasp.

It was only a small ravine that he had fallen down, she noticed with grim amusement. And yet the air had been knocked out of his lungs and he lay gasping on the rocks like a fish out of water. He tried to take another breath but the wind snatched it away with an echo of screaming laughter.
Freezing snow crystals melted into his eyes, blurring his vision, but through the glinting rivulets of water he saw--
Ayra.
She jumped down from the rocky incline with flowing grace, muscles rippling under a windswept black pelt. Silent paw steps sent a ripple of nightmares through the air as she advanced. Her eyes burned with a cold intensity and he stirred feebly, struggling to rise. But something in his back was out of place; a bone, grinding painfully against the rest.
He couldn't move.

She could smell his fear. It rolled off him in reeking waves; tantalizing, delicious. Her eyes were dead-set focused on his limp, fur-clad body. He made a vain attempt to rise again and she laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound, harsh yet full of arrogance and pride. It made him cringe, for upon hearing it, he knew that she would show no mercy.

His life flashed before his eyes in heart-breaking glimpses. Sobs racked his frail, deceased body. His wife, his children; would he ever see them again?
No.

She leapt with surprising suddenness, a brutal anger etched into every movement, every economic ripple of muscle. She landed square on his chest.
Never had she felt anything as delicate as his slender ribs, never anything as desperate as the beating of his heart. Her instincts roared within her, telling her to kill him. And suddenly she was filled with an urge to feel the splintering crunch of bones under her jaws, the elastic snapping of tendons beneath her needle-filed claws.
She couldn't wait any longer.

Pain exploded in his shoulder and shot through his veins like wildfire, poisoning his blood. A soundless scream racked his bones with spasms of agony, but it never made it to his lips.
The pain was all encompassing, consuming his thoughts, his life. He opened tear-blurred eyes and saw his killer's, inches from his face. But hers weren't blurry. They were blazing, vivid with feral lust. Vicious jaws clamped down hard on the base of his neck with an iron strength. Everything was a mass of pain and pulsating lights. He felt the steaming blood flood onto the snow. His blood. His skull was a nimbus of agony, rising to a climax of unbearable pain...
He felt the dying beats of his heart through a fog of indifference. There was heat around him, but within he was locked in ice.
It was all futile--what was the point of living, when lives could be snuffed out like candles? What was the point of loving, when lovers flit like butterflies from this world to the next?
With vicious, dreadful finality, Ayra's teeth came down hard. His life rushed onto the snow.

* * *

Ayra paced restlessly, trying to fight back the horrible guilt that raked her heart like claws. That man had a family, a life...and she had taken it all away. She remembered with bitter pride how his life had come away in her teeth.
But then the guilt came rushing back in a wave, no, a tSunami of terrible, unstoppable force. She howled, a wild, stricken lament so passionate it seemed the very stars would weep.
But they did not, and only twinkled coldly down at her, cruel and silent.
And she was alone, with only the screaming wind to keep her alive.
What have I done?

Hrmm

I think you tried too hard to make the style of the writing fancy. You used way too much descriptions and details which do little to leave an impression on the readers. It's just something that would just be skimmed over and not thought about much. There is little relevance with the descriptions that you've portrayed in this piece. For example:

Each night-black hair on her pelt seemed charged with static force.

And I was expecting something that bears similarities with static electricity (opposite charges attract, same charges repel lol). Basically said, some descriptions used were not consistant with the the theme and idea that were trying to go for.Reduce the number of adjectives used and tone down on the description. Use only what is necessary. It is very overwhelming and flowery at the moment.

Now for characterization. There is hardly any character development in this. You had all these descriptions....but it did little to define the character in greater depth. Though you did show us her actions, it doesn't really show much of the deeper features. You had only scratched the surface of the ice berg, that's all.

Another thing that was missing in this piece was some explaining. These things ought to be happening for a reason or purpose, but we were not provided insight to it.

Thanks for the review!
I'll work on the characterization, and add a bit explaining why the heck she decided to kill the poor man.

Hrmm

I think you tried too hard to make the style of the writing fancy. You used way too much descriptions and details which do little to leave an impression on the readers. It's just something that would just be skimmed over and not thought about much.

Well, um...your point may be valid, but I don't write the way I do to impress people. I write that way 'cause it's my style and because I love describing things...

Anyways. I always feel lame defending myself, but, meh. I'll edit this when I get the time and add what you suggested.

Thanks again (even though I sound defensive; sorry about that),
Ayra

I agree with squallz, there is too much description. I write that way sometimes too; it can work well sometimes, but to much is just information overload, and the reader can miss things of they are reading quickly.

The man's terror scent maddened her; each frantic beat of his heart seemed to mocking for her every second she delayed in taking his life.

His terror would not madden her, wolves delay in killing for fun, for a sense of control. And if you don't believe that, then why would she do it?

His life rushed onto the snow

Usually, in the imagery of a death, the 'life'/soul/essence of a person rushes into the sky ect. in a show of the soul being set free.

If she feels so terrible about killing him, them why did she do it? Wolves don't feel remorse for those they kill. Is she a werewolf?


Finally, you are describing the scene from his perspevtive as well as hers. It makes for a bit of an add reading.

I really like it though! Please PM with any questions/comments, and when you write more!!

Thanks!
I really should explain more about the wolf thing...you see, she isn't a werewolf, or a normal wolf. Really she's a Miokoda, and the wolf shape is her Second Nature. I'm going to write the part that comes before this explaining how she's lost in the snow and the man rescues her and cares for her with his family. Except one day he gets cut and because she hasn't hunted in so long, the blood drives her mad and she, well...kills him. >.< But then she comes back to her normal self and is all sad 'cause he's dead 'n all. You know.
And yes, for the dead thing, that will be explained later.
Thanks for the input! I'll work on cutting down on the description, though it shall be hard...

I read your blog earlier this evening, Ayra, and I was looking forward to reading some of your writing Anyway, my dad needs to get on soon, so I'll just get down to the key points of the review....

He swayed against the waves of pure rage that emanated from her

...on either side of him...

You used two pronouns in one sentences. What's more, this is one of the earliest sentences in the piece, and the first mention of this male victim. If I were you, I would go back and change the pronouns into something that can convey more useful information about these characters. You can mention some of the man's key features; just don't info dump. Instead, entwine character information with the action of the composition. You seem to be doing well with keeping pace with the story. I didn't notice any info dumps. I would use less pronouns if I were you, though.

The winter sky was a vault of pale flame

I'm not sure what this metaphor really means. Does this mean that the sky was orange? Was it dawn? If this is the case, I would prefer saying something like...

Pale fire streaked the winter sky

If you'd rather use a metaphor, that's fine. But I wouldn't compare the winter sky to a vault, because I don't think of the sky as an enclosure. There's no rule against this, though, and this may just be a matter of my personal taste It's up to you.

The man's terror scent maddened her.

Change to something like: the man's terror was tantalizing to the wolf Not only are your pronouns accumulating again, but terror-scent isn't a word, and I think it's preferable to use real words while you can (there are exceptions, of course).

Each frantic beat of his heart seems too mocking for her every second to delayed in taking his life.

Change to something like: Each beat of the man's racing heart provoked Ayra. I chose this over your word-choice because, all though my selection is far from perfect (you can probably think of a better phrase), your word selection is clumsy, IMO. Also, Perhaps I wrote the words down incorrectly on my pieces of paper, but you seem to be changing tense. If you are, don't do that!

It was only a small ravine that he had fallen down, she noticed

You didn't mention this happening.

[/quote]Sobs racked his frail, deceased body

He's not deceased just yet Use another word; preferably one that implies that he has a doomed fate, or an unfavorable prospect.

Pain exploded in his shoulder, and shot through his veins like wildfire, poisoning his blood

I know what you're trying to say by saying that the pain poisoned his blood, but I'd prefer not to use figurative language in this sentence. Instead, employ words like, it burnt like poison. If you think the figurative language is okay, though, it's your choice. Again, perhaps this case is just a matter of personal taste

He opened tear-blurred eyes and saw his killer inches from his face

Again, he's not dead yet! I'd recommend that you change killer into assailant

He felt the blood flood the snow

I'd change it into: He felt his blood spill on the snow like...

In the above case, you seem to be doing more exaggerating rather than elaborating[i].

Keep up you're writing, though. You write much better than I did when I was 13

Thanks!
I edited this tonight but I haven't gotten around to posting the revised version yet.

Hello, I know you're going to edit it soon, but I'll still comment on what I saw anyway.

Yes, I think there is too much description and it overpowers your story. But, if you take out some of the descriptions, it would be a very captivating story. I'm not saying that your description is bad though. Your description is very very beautiful and it inspires me to no end. *Claps* Yay you!

Your characters are good. Whenever I see a so-so character I feel that I have to give the same lecture. I'm very obbsessed with making characters VERY realistic. But, I feel that your characters are good right now, and that you can develop them a lot more as your story goes on. *Claps again* Totally cool.

Great work,
~N~

I don't want to sound boring, but the over description is an issue for me. However, please keep on with this and I will return to see how everything develops!

Sorry, I had another comment. I missed this earlier, but you said that Ayra will be maddened by the man's blood because she hasn't hunted for so long. I don't know, but that sounds a lot like Twilight, by: Stephanie Meyer. When the main character cuts her finger and the blood drips out all the vampires around her go crazy (madden).

You might consider revising that part OR I might be wrong. But yeah, that's my opinion.

Thanks for listening,
~N~

Nice work. But its a bit to descriptive and I noticed that you described the same things more than once.
Remember

Wisdom begins in wonder

Please post your revised one soon!

Thanks everyone!
Yeah, I took out some description but I think it's important to have more than average in Fantasy because, well, it's hard to explain. I won't bore you with my personal opinions.
Anyways, I'm almost done the revised edition. As soon as I can, I'll edit this post and put the link up, so if anyone's interested they can read it.

~nariel~: I see your point, and I agree, but that part about her being maddened is firmly based on real wolf behaviour. When hunting and/or before the kill, they are gripped by the blood lust.

So yeah, thanks a million!

Narf!
-Ayra