Young Writers Society

I haven't written for a while, and this was on my mind.

-

First, the turbulence.
Then the panicking.
I distinctly remember the smell of fear in the plane. The smell of chaos.
Lydia was sitting next to me.
She was squeezing my hand, and her fingernails dug into my pale skin. I still have the scars of where her nails were. They were like an ugly birthmark that would never fade.
My seatbelt wasn’t on right. No, of course it wasn’t. It was just my luck that at the very moment of need, my mind and fingers couldn’t figure out how to do it up.
My fingers were shaking then, too.
The whole world was shaking and shuddering and panicking and crying prayers unto the Lord.
(Jesus, Mary and Joseph, save my soul! Dear God please don’t letme die. protect mefrom harm. keep us safe ohgod dear lord SAVE ME!)
There was an infant in the row behind me. Her mother was already dead, probably because of a heart attack. The baby was screaming the screams of horror.
Just like the rest of us.
*
The world split apart into two distinct sections: the survivors and the rest of them.
I was a survivor.
Lydia was not.
*
I was sitting on a poor tree stump that was stuck glaring at the cold, godforsaken beach. The sun was beginning to set over the water, sending brilliant reflections staining my eyes. It hurt to look anywhere anymore.
To my left was a corpse. Some man with khaki shorts and blonde hair riddled with blood. To my right was one of the survivors.
She stood a little too close for my comfort. I shifted my glance over to her. Blood caked her forehead.
“What?” I whispered, my voice cracking, like those Rice Crispy cereal things. God, what I would give for a bowl of Rice Crispies right now.
The woman didn’t answer.
“What do you want?” I asked again.
(Snap, Crackle, Pop!)
“There’s seven of us,” she finally whispered. Her voice was dried and hoarse.
I frowned and scooped up a fistful of sand from the beach. There were little, round pebbles in it. I shakily took one in my left hand and examined it.
“How many of the others?”
“Forty-three.”
“Are you sure?” I asked and chucked the pebble out into the endlessly sandy beach.
“My father,” the woman said, “used to ask me that all the time, you know. I’d tell him something and he would always say, ‘Are you sure?’”
I didn’t reply. I thought about Lydia for a second. She was one of the others. My bottom lip trembled, but I didn’t let the woman see it. I faced the other way.
“I would always tell him,” the woman continued, “that if he asked that question again, I would ignore him for the rest of the day. That worked out for a little bit, but I felt bad whenever I ignored him. I don’t know why. He deserved it, don’t you think?”
No. I didn’t think.
“Anyway. It got to the point that he stopped talking to me altogether. All because I constantly ignored him. I haven’t talked to my dad for five years. And now…”
I glanced at the woman. Her eyes were like little brooks of water, tears tripping and falling over her skin.
“And now he thinks I’m dead. I never got to apologize.” She sat down beside my stump and me. I sighed and closed my eyes.
“I would do anything to turn time around, you know? I’d give anything to tell him that I loved him. And that I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to him.”
“What’s your name?” I whispered.
“Alexandra. Alexandra Poe. What’s yours?”
“I—“ I paused for a moment, thinking. I scrunched my brow.
“I don’t remember.”
*
When the plane had crashed, it had fallen through the sky, swiveling and spinning like ballet dancers. It landed on an island, I think.
The island might be part of another larger piece of land, but the survivors have only been on the shore, which was not a very great shore at all. The beach was full of clay and mud.
Lots of mud.
I didn’t like mud. I didn’t like the way that it oozed out between my toes. I didn’t like how it took what seemed like hours to wash it away in the beach.
I didn’t like how my wife was dead.
I didn’t like a lot of the things on the island.
No one did.
*
Alexandra Poe told me that there were seven survivors. Within a day after she told me that, there were only six.
The man killed himself. He climbed up into one of the tall palm trees, took one last breath of the clean air and jumped.
He was a mess to clean up.
*
Kyle Green was a fifty-year-old high school gym teacher. He was bald and had wrinkles covering his face. He didn’t wear his shirt on the island. He seemed to have forgotten how to put on a shirt.
There was a pile of bodies on the beach. Kyle had another body in his arms. I grimaced as he passed me; the smell of body odor followed him. He walked to the pile of bodies and dumped the person on top.
I turned away from the gruesome sight. I fixated my thoughts on Alexandra, who was out in the cold ocean water, just standing there. Something inside of me urged me to go comfort her.
But I didn’t.
I watched her cry.
*
“Hey, uh, I could use some help,” Kyle said to me. I blinked and looked at him. His eyes danced in his sockets; his face bright red and breathing heavily.
“With what?”
Kyle stared dumbfoundly at me for a moment.
“With the, uh,--“ He pointed to the pile of bodies.
“What do you plan on doing with them?” I whispered, not daring to look into his wild eyes again.
“I—I really don’t know. I seem to be the only able body right now. We have to get rid of these bodies or else it might—“
“Where’s my Lydia?” I asked.
“Uh, what?”
“Where is my Lydia?”
“I—I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
I jumped up from my seat on the tree stump. Glaring into Kyle’s eyes, I formed a fist with my hand.
“Where is my Lydia?”
“Look, I don’t know no Lydia!”
“What have you done to her?”
“I haven’t done nothing!” Kyle backed away slowly, one foot behind the other.
“Who killed my Lydia?”
“I’m—I’m sorry! I don’t… I don’t know—“
I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I swept my fists at his face and it hit him square in the jaw. I roared and grasped his neck between my hands.
I squeezed.
God, it felt good.
“Nahg—“ Kyle yelled, kicking and squirming. “Help! Oh G—“
His foot kicked and hit my balls. My eyes widened and I loosened my grip on his neck. He pulled away and gasped for breath.
I placed my hands over my crotch and roared again. Kyle took off running in the other direction.
“Where is my Lydia?” I cried.
I fell on my knees, still trying to get a hold of myself. Tears swelled up in the corner of my eyes. I wiped the tears away and glanced over at the pile of bodies.
Lydia was in there, I knew. Somewhere. Somewhere among those dead people.
The others.
God, why’d he have to kick me in the balls?
Suddenly, there was a ground shaking roar originating from the trees to the right of me. My eyes widened, and I gasped.
I could see something hidden in the shadows. Something with dark eyes. I couldn’t make out the shape exactly, but I knew it was much, much larger than any animal I’d ever seen.
It was gone in a little less than a second. It was like it disappeared.
The pain overwhelmed everything else, and I groaned, holding my crotch.
Whatever that was, it’d have to wait until l dealt with Kyle. He needed to be taught something.
Who knows? He might end up being a mess to clean up too.

I loved reading this Bear! This was good!
And a random thought - I don't think this is where I die, but it's good anyway! Even if I didn't die.
Now onto the review!

There was an infant in the row behind me. Her mother was already dead. The baby was screaming the screams of horror.

Why was the mother already dead? That made no sense to me. I thought they were crashing, not crashed yet. So why would the mother be dead?

I fixated my thoughts on Alexandra was out in the cold ocean water, just standing there.

Huh? You left out something here. I think putting who in between Alexandra and was would make that sentence sound better.

“What?” I whispered, my voice cracking, like those Rice Crispy cereal thing.

(sorry. Out of order) That sentence would have sound fine if you didn't switch between plural to singular. If you want to keep it plural, make thing plural. That will make the sentence sound better.

“Are you sure?” I asked and chucked the pebble out into the endlessly sandy beach.

It shouldn't be endlessly. Just take off the ly.

Good job again Bear! I enjoyed this and I can't wait to see the next part!

Thanks, Cat! I made those changes. I'll probably be posting some more tomorrow. I just need to edit the second portion up a bit. Thanks! Your comments are much appreciated.

-Jared

Hey Jared!

This was really well written. Geez, you're writing style has matured. I enjoyed the voice of your main character a lot, especially the part where he sinks into hysteria and attacks Kyle. Good stuff. You're foreshadowing is excellent, as well.

However. Ever heard of a television show called Lost? Because you pretty much rewrote it word for word. Plane crash. Deserted island. The others. Something big and shapeless moving in the trees. Watch it. It's good. The season four (or five, can't remember) priemere is on tonight. But it's also already been done. So although the writing itself was good, you're playing with used toys, man.

Her mother was already dead, probably because of a heart attack.

So, young, healthy mothers usually don't keel over from a heart attack. Your heart doesn't pop when you get over excited. So unless she had some kind of pre-existing heart condition, it's not feasible that she would have died. Maybe she's unconscious. Passed out from a compression of the cabin or something.

She sat down beside my stump and me

If this is a deserted island, then there wouldn't be a stump. Stumps are products of logging. Logging is something that people do.

It landed on an island, I think.

If an airplane crashed on an island, everyone would be dead on impact. Maybe the airplane crashed in the water, and the survivors washed up on shore?

He climbed up into one of the tall palm trees, took one last breath of the clean air and jumped.

This seems like an elaborate and unreliable form of suicide. If you jump from a tree, you're liable to break a limb, rather than kill yourself. It's more realistic for the man to find a gun or a sharp piece of twisted metal from the wreckage and kill himself that way. People don't commit suicide by jumping off of trees.

endlessly sandy beach

Wait. You just said it was endlessly muddy and clay. Small consistancy error.

Anyway. Only some small plot errors. Just need to keep you grounded in reality sometimes, Bear. Good luck, and tune in.

-Kylan

Hey!!
Its been a while since I read your writing. Man have you improved. Sadly, this reminded me a lot like Lost. Though I've never seen the show that's what it reminded me of. That and Island (I forgot the author, I apologize to him).

BigBadBear wrote:To my left was a corpse. Some man with khaki shorts and blonde hair riddled with blood. To my right was one of the survivors.
She stood a little too close for my comfort. I shifted my glance over to her. Blood caked her forehead.

This part confused me. I understood perfectly clear what was happening, that wasn't what confused me.What confused me is that he's staring at the corpse of an old man, and he doesn't have much of a reaction. But then there's a woman whos standing 'a little too close for comfort' and yet he doesn't even try to schooch a way from the man or both? I know he would have seen tons of dead people by then, but no matter what, its hard for someone not to have a reaction to such a sight. Even if he is a little dazed out, I don't think he would purposefully (I'm sure I just spelled that wrong) sit next to a dead man.

I whispered, my voice cracking, like those Rice Crispy cereal things. God, what I would give for a bowl of Rice Crispies right now.

I think I would say 'I whispered, my voice crackling like Rice Crispy cerea' because otherwise it sounds a bitt off. I'm not sure how to describe it.

I don't remember."

I give you points/kudos/whatever you want to call them for giving this guy a situation that could happen.

"Where's my Lydia?" I asked.

I also give you points for giving him this situation. I may not have gotten the exact sentence because the computer started deleting what you typed.

I could see something hidden in the shadows. Something with dark eyes. I couldn’t make out the shape exactly, but I knew it was much, much larger than any animal I’d ever seen.
It was gone in a little less than a second. It was like it disappeared.
The pain overwhelmed everything else, and I groaned, holding my crotch.
Whatever that was, it’d have to wait until l dealt with Kyle. He needed to be taught something.
Who knows? He might end up being a mess to clean up too.

I like this ending paragraph. It actually doesn't remind me of Lost (though, again, I've never actually watched the shows or anything). I especially like the ending sentence. Creepy.
Good job,
I hope to see more of your work
~MV

Hey Jare-bear!

I really really liked this. As Ky said, you've really matured literary wise. It was something new from what you usually do and I like your MC. But it seems like he's sad and dellusional but I think you can use a little bit more descriptive sentences to display that. It doesn't have to be a big thing but you know, just to pace things.

Favorite Part:

“What?” I whispered, my voice cracking, like those Rice Crispy cereal things. God, what I would give for a bowl of Rice Crispies right now.
The woman didn’t answer.
“What do you want?” I asked again.
(Snap, Crackle, Pop!)

That was a really good piece and I smiled when I read it. The ending line was really creepy and it made me hungry for the next part. So get writing, my friend!

Good Job,

~Angel

Hello there I'm Sofi and I shall be giving you a review this evening.

First, the turbulence.
Then the panicking.
I distinctly remember the smell of fear inI think this would sound better as 'inside'...I don't know it seems to have a better flow? the plane. The smell of chaos.
Lydia was sitting next to me.
She was squeezing my hand, and her fingernails dug into my pale skin. I still have the scars of where her nails were. They were your tenses seem a bit mixed up. If he still has the scars then they would still be like an ugly birthmark, therefore 'They are' like an ugly birthmark that would never fade.
My seatbelt wasn’t on right. No, of course it wasn’t. It was just my luck that at the very moment of need, my mind and fingers couldn’t figure out how to do it up.
My fingers were shaking then, too.
The whole world was shaking and shuddering and panicking and crying prayers unto the Lord.
(Jesus, Mary and Joseph, save my soul! Dear God please don’t letme die. protect mefrom harm. keep us safe ohgod dear lord SAVE ME!) Try taking this out of the brackets? It seems like it would have a stronger effect that way
There was an infant in the row behind me. Her mother was already dead, probably because of a heart attack. The baby was screaming the screams of horror.
Just like the rest of us.
*
The world split apart into two distinct sections: the survivors and the rest of them.Loved this!!:D
I was a survivor.
Lydia was not.
*
I was sitting on a poor tree stump that was stuck glaring at the cold, godforsaken beach. The sun was beginning to set over the water, sending brilliant reflections staining my eyes.Great description! It hurt to look anywhere anymore.'Now' instead of 'anymore' maybe? Or 'It hurt to look everywhere'? I don't know, 'anymore' doesn't seem to fit for some reason.
To my left was a corpse. Some man with khaki shorts and blonde hair riddled with blood. To my right was one of the survivors.
She stood a little too close for my comfort. I shifted my glance over to her. Blood caked her forehead.
“What?” I whispered, my voice cracking, like those Rice Crispy cereal things. God, what I would give for a bowl of Rice Crispies right now.
The woman didn’t answer.
“What do you want?” I asked again.
(Snap, Crackle, Pop!) Again, I think this would work better without the brackets
“There’s seven of us,” she finally whispered. Her voice was dried and hoarse.
I frowned and scooped up a fistful of sand from the beach. There were little, round pebbles in it. I shakily took one in my left hand and examined it. I'm not sure why he does this? He seems a little too complacent for someone who's been in a plane crash and who's wife has died? Infact, complacency can work fine in that kind of situation, but I think you need a little more explanation of it. His feelings and so on to help us, as the readers, understand and connect with him.
“How many of the others?”
“Forty-three.”
“Are you sure?” I asked and chucked the pebble out into the endlessly sandy beach.
“My father,” the woman said, “used to ask me that all the time, you know. I’d tell him something and he would always say, ‘Are you sure?’”
I didn’t reply. I thought about Lydia for a second. She was one of the others. My bottom lip trembled, but I didn’t let the woman see it. I faced the other way.
“I would always tell him,” the woman continued, “that if he asked that question again, I would ignore him for the rest of the day. That worked out for a little bit, but I felt bad whenever I ignored him. I don’t know why. He deserved it, don’t you think?”
No. I didn’t think.
“Anyway. It got to the point that he stopped talking to me altogether. All because I constantly ignored him. I haven’t talked to my dad for five years. And now…”
I glanced at the woman. Her eyes were like little brooks of water, tears tripping and falling over her skin.
“And now he thinks I’m dead. I never got to apologize.” She sat down beside my stump and me. I sighed and closed my eyes.
“I would do anything to turn time around, you know? I’d give anything to tell him that I loved him. And that I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to him.”
“What’s your name?” I whispered.
“Alexandra. Alexandra Poe. What’s yours?”
“I—“ I paused for a moment, thinking. I scrunched my brow.
“I don’t remember.”
*
When the plane had crashed, it had fallen through the sky, swiveling and spinning like ballet dancers. It landed on an island, I think.
The island might be part of another larger piece of land, but the survivors have only been on the shore, which was not a very great shore at all. The beach was full of clay and mud.
Lots of mud.
I didn’t like mud. I didn’t like the way that it oozed out between my toes. I didn’t like how it took what seemed like hours to wash it away in the beach.
I didn’t like how my wife was dead.
I didn’t like a lot of the things on the island.
No one did.
*
Alexandra Poe told me that there were seven survivors. Within a day after she told me that, there were only six.
The man killed himself. He climbed up into one of the tall palm trees, took one last breath of the clean air and jumped.
He was a mess to clean up. Great sentence! And I love the way you repeat it, later.
*

I didn't have anything to edit after here

Overall...

The way you presented the MC was interesting. I think he is someone who you could give a lot more depth to here. I mean in the last part of the story he doesn't seem to be thinking too rationally, especially with regards to Kyle (understandable of course) however, I still think you could add so much more depth to him. Thoughts, feeling etc things like that.
I'm intruiged to see what happens next. It definatly makes me want to read more I thought this was cleverly written. Well done!

If you have any questions or anthing, I'm only a PM away

Sofi.

Hello =) Remember me? I never really did pay you back for all those great crits you gave me aaages ago. Anyhow, moving on...

I feel like I'm going to be really one-dimensional here, because this was great, but I'll be trying to pick out picky things whenever I can. ^^ Alright.

I liked the blunt way you used to grab across the reader's attention and the fast pacing and lots of dialogue, but I felt really isolated from your character, as if I didn't know him. I understand that's something you wanted, but there are limits: either way, I need to be able to understand him even it's just to explain how he doesn't know who he is, if you see what I mean.

I found myself learning more about Alexandra than anyone else. And all I could see was that he missed Lydia. You gave us a great "showing" that expressed his emotion, but I think that a contrast between before the crash, and after, would be an effective way of depicting your character. Think about it--if you were in a plane, you would not be looking around and pointing out random people were dead, you would be thinking about Lydia and yourself. We know that we won't be dying (it's first person past tense!) and you know that. Therefore, be inventive! Make him seem petrified, short sentences, screaming, glancing out the window, hugging Lydia and such. Make him human, then a crash, and then suddenly inhuman. The reader can't digest a few lines and relate to him, and the surroundings.

Grammar has been done, so that's my input. Sorry for the shortness--I'll be sure to say more in later chapters. Hope I helped!

Best,
Mark

First, the turbulence.
Then the panicking.
I distinctly remember the smell of fear in the plane. The smell of chaos.

Great beginning. It draws readers in, but doesn't give too much information kudos to you.

(Jesus, Mary and Joseph, save my soul! Dear God please don’t letme die. protect mefrom harm. keep us safe ohgod dear lord SAVE ME!)

ok so the whole thing with joining words together... I think it's on purpose, but I don't understand why

There was an infant in the row behind me. Her mother was already dead, probably because of a heart attack. The baby was screaming the screams of horror.

This is an awesome couple of lines. but when it says screaming the screams I dont think the redunace of the word sounds good like that. Maybe you could change the word screams... just a sujestion.

I was sitting on a poor tree stump that was stuck glaring at the cold, godforsaken beach. The sun was beginning to set over the water, sending brilliant reflections staining my eyes. It hurt to look anywhere anymore.

this part confused me i wasn't sure where he was any more. I thought he was having a flash back while... i don't I just didn't like the way you opened this part.

“

What?” I whispered, my voice cracking, like those Rice Crispy cereal things. God, what I would give for a bowl of Rice Crispies right now.

Is your character really thinking of having cereal when his wife just died, and hes been in an aweful plane crash?

“My father,” the woman said, “used to ask me that all the time, you know. I’d tell him something and he would always say, ‘Are you sure?’”
I didn’t reply. I thought about Lydia for a second. She was one of the others. My bottom lip trembled, but I didn’t let the woman see it. I faced the other way.
“I would always tell him,” the woman continued, “that if he asked that question again, I would ignore him for the rest of the day. That worked out for a little bit, but I felt bad whenever I ignored him. I don’t know why. He deserved it, don’t you think?”
No. I didn’t think.
“Anyway. It got to the point that he stopped talking to me altogether. All because I constantly ignored him. I haven’t talked to my dad for five years. And now…”

is this memory because her dad was on the plane?? or is this just a random thought?

I watched her cry.

This seems cold and heartless. I know he wanted too comfort her, but why didn't he?

“

Where’s my Lydia?” I asked.
“Uh, what?”
“Where is my Lydia?”
“I—I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
I jumped up from my seat on the tree stump. Glaring into Kyle’s eyes, I formed a fist with my hand.
“Where is my Lydia?”
“Look, I don’t know no Lydia!”
“What have you done to her?”
“I haven’t done nothing!” Kyle backed away slowly, one foot behind the other.
“Who killed my Lydia?”
“I’m—I’m sorry! I don’t… I don’t know—“
I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I swept my fists at his face and it hit him square in the jaw. I roared and grasped his neck between my hands.
I squeezed.
God, it felt good.

Is the narrator going crazy here? He seems to be losing his grip on reality. Also when he says roar is that like an animal sound he makes or... is he phsicaly just groaning and moaning.

Tears swelled up in the corner of my eyes. I wiped the tears away and glanced over at the pile of bodies.

He refuses to cry over what happened. It's like hes holding every thing inside. Does he think this is manly?

God, why’d he have to kick me in the balls?

This seems a bit random, and it's really not needed.

I could see something hidden in the shadows. Something with dark eyes. I couldn’t make out the shape exactly, but I knew it was much, much larger than any animal I’d ever seen.
It was gone in a little less than a second. It was like it disappeared.
The pain overwhelmed everything else, and I groaned, holding my crotch.
Whatever that was, it’d have to wait until l dealt with Kyle.

Awesome ending. Such suspension and energy! It keeps your readers held in.

He needed to be taught something.
Who knows? He might end up being a mess to clean up too.

This is great because this humor hidden in it.

OVERALL:

Great start! i love the story line, and the style in which your writing it. But I feel distanced from the main character. As the readers we really dont know much about him. more descrption and emotion is needed with him. Also is any thing going to blosom between him and Ms. Poe? Maybe thats just my curiosity asking ahah.

Love it

~Tiffany

Because I saw you posted a second part, I wanted to come back and read the first! I have just a few comments/suggestions.

I still have the scars of where her nails were. They were like an ugly birthmark that would never fade.

The word 'were' in the first sentence here seems a bit lackluster compared to the drama of rest of the piece so far. I'd suggest using a more exciting verb such as 'bit'. Also, as I think someone else mentioned, you should correct the tense of the second line here -- it should be in the present tense to fit with the rest. ^_^

It was just my luck that at the very moment of need, my mind and fingers couldn’t figure out how to do it up.

My fingers were shaking then, too.

The whole world was shaking and shuddering and panicking and crying prayers unto the Lord.

Wouldn't it sound better to say 'in my moment of need'? Surely the narrator's mind and fingers didn't erode into uselessness in a split second? Then, in the second line, what's the importance of the word 'then', or 'too' for that matter? 'Too' implies that it's coinciding with something else, but the line about the shaking world /follows/ the one about the fingers -- perhaps they need to be switched? Also, 'then' might imply that the narrator's fingers are shaking /now/, but I don't see how that makes sense. Perhaps just remove the last two words from that line! I love the third line in this passage though -- the desperation of the situation is evident in the style of the sentence.

I was sitting on a poor tree stump that was stuck glaring at the cold, godforsaken beach. The sun was beginning to set over the water, sending brilliant reflections staining my eyes. It hurt to look anywhere anymore.

To my left was a corpse. Some man with khaki shorts and blonde hair riddled with blood. To my right was one of the survivors.

A few problems here -- why is the tree stump poor? Also, you have two verbs in the second half of the second line {'sending' and 'staining'}, and they can't work together. They're both beautiful, but I think 'staining' is the better verb. Perhaps rework the sentence to use only that one? Then I think you need a double dash between 'corpse' and 'some man' rather than a period, and blond is the correct spelling for an adjective. ^_^

(Snap, Crackle, Pop!)

BEAUTIFUL. I love this.

“Anyway. It got to the point that he stopped talking to me altogether. All because I constantly ignored him. I haven’t talked to my dad for five years. And now…”

I feel like Alexandra's revelations come without reason. It seems like she had the story bubbling up inside her just waiting for someone to say the phrase 'are you sure?' and it's only too conveniently occurred just as she speaks to the narrator. Perhaps insert a pause for thought between the first encounter and her confession.

When the plane had crashed, it had fallen through the sky, swiveling and spinning like ballet dancers.

I'd suggest 'like a ballet dancer' to keep with the singularity of 'the plane'.

The beach was full of clay and mud.

Lots of mud.

I didn’t like mud.

Again, I think perhaps you need to keep the present tense in the first line. Also, I am wondering how the narrator doesn't remember his name, but he can remember all the things about his past life -- his dislike of mud, that he even had a wife? Or perhaps it's only partial amnesia, and the only thing he forgot was his name? -shrugs-

Within a day after she told me that, there were only six.

I don't think you need to begin the sentence with 'within'. Also, I question the lack of response to a suicide in the nonchalant dismissal of 'he was a mess to clean up.' Is your narrator really so cold?

I liked the passage about his inner conflict when he was trying to decide whether or not to comfort Alexandra -- it was very poignant! ^_^

His eyes danced in his sockets; his face bright red and breathing heavily.

I don't get the image of eyes dancing in sockets... What did you mean?

His foot kicked and hit my balls. My eyes widened and I loosened my grip on his neck. He pulled away and gasped for breath.

All three of these sentences have two parts connected by 'and'. Try combining some parts to make more variety in this passage! ^_^

Suddenly, there was a ground shaking roar originating from the trees to the right of me. My eyes widened, and I gasped.

I'd suggest hyphenating ground-shaking. ^_^ Like that! Teehee~

The pain overwhelmed everything else, and I groaned, holding my crotch.

Did you mean 'then pain'? Otherwise it sort of seems like the narrator was in pain, recovered and saw something, but WAIT, he's still in pain? It's sort of confusing. -nodnod-

Anyways, this is an interesting premise for a story! Let's see where you go with it! Onto part two~
-swoops away-

You've had quite a lot of specific advice so you should be able to neaten up those details now but I'm going to try and give you a few suggestions on style and characters.

Style

I'm loving your use of short sentences and the disorientated, broken style you maintain throughout but I'd like to see you use something else: a heightened sense for the mundane. Sometimes when people go into shock or are recalling a bad experience, there are minute details that stand out to them in full volume amongst all the other uncertain, vague memories. It might be a strand of hair they've caught sight of, this is one a friend mentioned to me once after he'd been in a car wreck. A long strand of hair had been caught on the seat in front of him and it was the first thing to flood his mind when he re-gained consciousness.

I'd really like to see you use something like this to build on the relationship with Lydia. Of course with the plane hurtling down there isn't much opportunity for seeing and your vision would spin and blur but just one constant would really help. I'd imagine his head would be down, his chin resting against his chest but maybe the gleam of her wedding band from the corner of his eye or a constellation of freckles on her hand or a gravy stain on his or her trousers.

Characters

Alexandra and your narrator are well defined and with just a little more concentration on Lydia during the beginning, you'll have covered her as well. But the man who you don't name who kills himself has little impact on the reader. It would be better if you had your narrator recall a detail or two about him, something the narrator perhaps found odd enough that it stuck in his head. Even just a little description of the body or a sentence or two while your narrator tries to work out if the dead man is still one of them or one of the others would work and it would help to build your narrator a little too.


Overall, good work and good luck with the editing! Let me know if you'd like me to take a second look at this when you're done or I could review the second part for you? Hope this helps a little,

Heather xx

Alrigh' Jare bud, what's the buzz? (sorry, been spending time with Northsiders.) Stella here!

I. NITPICKS

(Jesus, Mary and Joseph, save my soul! Dear God please don’t letme die. protect mefrom harm. keep us safe ohgod dear lord SAVE ME!)

I don't know if you think that the forgotten spaces and uncapitalization of Lord and the Lord's name add something to it... but to me it looks messy.

Her mother was already dead, probably because of a heart attack.

Fun fact I learnt this week, men are more likely to have heart attacks than women. That really is a bit irrelevant, but whatever. Just so you know. Don't smoke and don't eat chips (fries? Chips? Fries? I'll stop rambling now.)

Rice Crispy cereal things. God, what I would give for a bowl of Rice Crispies right now.

Krispies, not Crispies. I don't know what the singular is, but it's definitely a K.

swiveling and spinning like ballet dancers. It landed on an island, I think.

Ain't it just one plane, so, like, one ballet dancer?

Right so then.

II. LORD OF THE FLIES AND LOST AND...

This theme has been done like a hundred times. Not a problem, all I can say is that I hope you can make something original out of it. Like, the Beast he sees at the end? Does he really see it or is he going mad?

III. HMM... AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL RECKONS THERE SHOULD BE AN AIRBUS COMING IN RIGHT ABOUT NOW...

Picture it: a plane goes missing. There are relatives and friends and employers wondering where people have gone. And the pilot, well, he lost contact somewhere over the Pacific. Hm... Oh no, I'm sure they'll be fine.

I've never seen Lost so I don't know how they got around it, but the simple fact is is that planes don't just crash and are never found again. There are sattelites and helicopters and radios and... I just hope you have a way around this.

IV. PSYCHIATRIC ILLNESS

Your MC's brain has clearly been damaged. Is it just grief etc., or has he had a blow to the head? Peut-etre to his frontal lobe, which controls your memory etc. Here's an interesting fact, if that's damaged, your whole personality can change. Might be something to play with, actually.

V. OVERALL

Intriguing.

Hope I helped, and PM me if you have any questions!

-Stella.