Young Writers Society

Hello! Recently, we were assigned a project in English. Basically, we were instructed to use what we had learned about the effect of diction, syntax, ect., and apply it to our own works. I chose to do a short story, since I knew I could just pull out on that I've already done and turn it in. Instead of choosing The Forest, I decided to use a time prompt I had done a while ago, and finish the story.
So! Please, by all means, tear my baby apart. I need snapping crocodiles people



My cell was dank, and it smelled. It smelled quite bad, to tell the truth. Fortunately, I got used to the smell after awhile; being in one place for a long time can do that to you. I had even gotten used to the food, or lack thereof I should say. What I could never get used to was the darkness. Every night, when the dim gray light outside of my cell vanished, I curled up in a small ball, counting the minutes until it came back. It became the bane of my existence, this light. It filtered through the barred window, all three inches of it, which cut through my wall near the ceiling, too far up for me to even touch. Even so, the light from what I presumed to be a hallway outside my cell gave me some touch of ungodly hope.

Hope that shouldn’t exist in these types of situations. Hope that perhaps they wouldn’t take me to the room that they always took me to, the room where I was beaten mercilessly. Hope didn’t belong here. Hope was the beauty that was found in the outside world, a white dove and shinning sun that the prison was devoid of. I’m not sure why I still had hope. Perhaps my mind was grasping at an earlier time. A time so early that it was beginning to vanish, the memories stolen by the darkness of my surroundings. I hated this, and fought it with a savage resistance, each day making it a goal to relive some memory, so dusty it was nigh forgotten, to remind me that there was life besides this.

Life besides my cell seemed pretty unlikely, and I was wont to simply throw the idea, the hope out. The only reason I did not do this was that the memories were my only light in this place, the only real one anyway. That’s why I liked the grey, smoggy light so much; it was the embodiment of my hope. I’m sure they didn’t know, I’m sure that I hadn’t given it away during one beating. I was sure because the light was still there. If I had told them, they would have done everything to take away any shred of hope that I possessed.

There was a rattling outside my cell or cage as I liked to think of it, and I perked up, slowly pushing myself into a sitting position. My arms hurt strangely, and I looked down, surprised when I saw the skin had been tattooed from wrist to shoulder by bruises. More than surprised I was scared. Scared that I didn’t remember when that had happened scared that I was losing my soul and mind here.

That is what they wanted, after all. They wanted you to become soulless, to lose any reason for your existence, to make you want to end it all. What they were so scared of was people like me. People who were still alive, their spirit not completely broken.

Yet.

A small flap opened, and a dingy tray was thrown in, the contents splayed out against the grimy floor. Quickly, I leapt forward, rescuing the crust of bread and watery soup like thing the best I could. It was rare to get food, and I could lose none. Not if I wanted to survive, that is.

I knew that I should save the food, and I put half the bit of stale bread back on the tray for later. The rest, though, I lost self-control and devoured on spot. I hadn’t eaten in who knows how long-time was nonexistent here, my days controlled by the flow of dim light through the bars. What I did know, though, was that it had been awhile since my last ‘meal’. Long enough for me to feel weaker than usual, long enough to make the walk from wall to wall, no more than a few steps, hard.

I had long ago ceased in feeling real ‘hunger’. The want had become nothing more than background, blending in with my environment. I could not remember a time when I did not feel this hunger, no matter how hard I tried.

I could remember people, faces, but everything had started to blur. My memory would not last much longer, and I would soon know nothing but my cell and time here.

That’s what they wanted, really. I fought against them with every fiber of my being, but it was no use. They were strong.

There was a larger rattling on my wall, and I let lose a small yelp, knowing what was going to happen. My body began to shake with held back fear as I watched the door open, invisible until it moved. A man, clad in dark clothing with a hood over his face bent down, wrenching me from my spot. I cried out, but suddenly went silent as he dragged me down the hall. I never remembered much of this hall, oddly, my memory blank with the fear of the impending pain.

He stopped suddenly, opened a door, and tossed me into a concrete cell, much like my own. Another man was already waiting there, and a plain table stood in the middle.

“Please…” My voice was horse from lack of use, and my pitiful plea wrung my heart. I hadn’t always been like this, you know. Hadn’t always been willing to do anything to save myself from the pain. Time here had changed me, though. And not for the better.

I brought up my hands in a futile effort to protect myself as the blows started to pour on me, pounding my mind until it retreated into the darkness once more.




When I awoke-wait, no, that’s not entirely true. When the swelling that puffed my eyes closed went down enough that I was able to open them for the first time in what felt like days, it hit me that I had no idea how long I had been here. Upon first thinking of it, I was sure that I had been here for a month, no more. That didn’t sit right, though, and I started to think deeper. There was no direct way to measure my time here. The walls that constituted my cell were made of strong concrete, and though I had tried numerous times, I was unable to scratch out lines to mark the days. This was not by coincidence, I knew. If I were able to measure my time here, that would serve as a constant reminder that there was life outside of here. Since I was unable to do this, my mind was close to throwing away the notion that there was more than this, more than daily beatings, more than near starvation. If I lost hope of life outside of this torturement, then I would lose everything. They would win. I would die.

So I fought, a silent, hopeless fight. I knew that I would never win; that was never my goal. My goal was simply to fight them off for as long as I could before inevitably succumbing. Eventually, I knew this with a certainty, I would give up. The human spirit can only resist without hope for so long. Eventually I would accept death as the final respite, and would welcome its chilly embrace. For death was not something to be feared, rather, it was something that should be welcomed.

Knowing that I should at least attempt to stretch my underused muscles, I pushed my arms against the ground, propping myself up on my legs. I didn’t last long. Before ten seconds had passed my legs were shaking, and before fifteen seconds, I had collapsed onto the floor. Surprised, I had known that my legs would be weak, but this weak?, I glanced down at my legs, pulling up the tattered excuse for pants. I felt my heart freeze up with fear and surprise as I viewed the bloody, congealed dark liquid that was scrawled, words of an unknown language, over my legs. Like cracks on a decaying rock, the red lines burned angry lightening against the grey background, bruises on top of bruises.

And I cried.

It was the first time I had honestly cried since my imprisonment. I cried not for the pain, though it was immense. I cried not for uncaring brutality of my captures. I cried because I did not know when this had happened, and I cried because I did not care.




I knew the day had come when I opened my eyes after half-hearted attempts at sleep. There was no real rest in my cell, the ungiving floors made sure of that. I wasn’t sure how it would happen, but the end result I was certain of. Slowly, my eyes looked at the cell, trying to find a way. There was no urgency in my search. Sooner, rather than later, I would find what I was looking for and when I did, well, I knew what would happen then. There was a rattling outside of my cell, and I paused, momentarily stricken with fear. The small slit opened, and a small, metal try was pushed in.

Is this how the feed the soon dead? I wondered, my mouth opening as I saw the tray. If so, why the hell didn’t I die sooner?

My outwardly seeming facetiousness was unable to quell the uneasiness that filled me. It was like putting a mask on a wolf. No mater how pretty the mask was, sharp teeth are sharp teeth. Death is death, all the beauty in the world is unable to conceal that simple fact. Slowly, my tired hands reached out, bringing the tray closer. On it, laid a slice of dark bread, glistening with butter. Next to the bread was a small hunk of yellow cheese, the first piece of cheese I had seen since I had been imprisoned. Also on the tray was a small bowl, full of a lumpy, beige substance. Curiously, I took the spoon, dipping a little of it out and tasting it. Porridge. The word came out of the dusty recesses of my memory, and I wondered what sick and perverted mind would starve someone and then give them a feast worthy of a king right before they died.

There was one other object lying innocently on my tray, and I slowly picked it up. It was a long, shinning red silk rope.

So this is how it’s going to end, I realized the words heavy in my mind. Apparently I had given away my intentions at one of the recent beatings; I remembered nothing of them, baring every memory from my mind.

I felt no anger, no fear, only a strange emptiness as I slid the food off of the plate, tying one end of the rope around the now empty metal plate. There was no calm, peaceful feeling that I had been expecting. Instead was an uneasy realization that it was over. They had won.

Taking the mental plate, I stood on wobbling legs and with the last bit of strength, I threw the plate in between the bars that were towards the top of my cell. Turned sideways, it managed to fit through. Once through, it clanked against the outside wall. Testing it, I pulled down. The metal plate pressed against the bars, but was unable to go back through.

It would work.

My breath coming shorter now, I stood, taking the beautiful silk in my hand. With trembling fingers, I tied a silken loop around my neck. Taking a deep breath to steady my hands, I tightened the knot until I felt my breathing become restricted. I pushed back the sudden urge to cry. I had come this far, soon it would all be over. Pulling the silk, I shortened the rope until I was forced to stand on my toes just to continue to draw one raged breath after another.

How many times had I thought of this moment? The moment that my suffering would end, the moment it all would end-I had always envisioned it as a peaceful moment. So why was it then, when I was so close to the end, did I feel fear instead of peace?

Closing my eyes, I pushed all doubt out of my mind. And for the last time in my life, I let one final tear escape.

“Forgive me, Lord,” I whispered.

And then I jumped.

Okay... so you say rip it to shreds... Here goes!

My cell was dank, and it smelled.

Just letting you be aware that your opening sentence isn't that good. You could start with torture, or him being dragged away.

, I got used to the smell after awhile; being in one place for a long time can do that to you.

This sentence sounds odd. You could perhaps re-word it to sound something like this:
Luckily, the smell grew on me, and now I don't even notice it when I get stuffed into my cell daily.

I had even gotten used to the food, or lack thereof I should say.

Maybe it's just me, but this would sound better as:
I had even gotten used to the food; or lack of is, I should say.

Hope that perhaps they wouldn’t take me to the room that they always took me to, the room where I was beaten mercilessly.

This sentence is really wordy, I know, I do it all the time! Re-worded, it should be short and to the point, like this:
Hope that I wouldn't be dragged down the corridor the next day; hope that I wouldn't be beaten mercilessly and then tossed into my dank cell.

Hope was the beauty that was found in the outside world, a white dove and shinning sun that the prison was devoid of.

This is really good imagery, but I feel that 'devoid' isn't the right word. perhaps you could change it around?

That’s why I liked the grey, smoggy light so much; it was the embodiment of my hope.

Really nice wording here!

I’m sure they didn’t know, I’m sure that I hadn’t given it away during one beating.

Okay, wordy and confusing again!

There was a rattling outside my cell[comma or cage as I liked to think of it, and I perked up, slowly pushing myself into a sitting position. My arms hurt strangely,[perhaps, strangely, my arms hurt] and I looked down, surprised when I saw the skin had been tattooed from wrist to shoulder by bruises.This is good. keep it!] More than surprised I was scared. Scared that I didn’t remember when that had happenedFull stop, capital] scared that I was losing my soul and mind here.

I don't like that last pit. Show and not tell! Perhaps something like:
My lips trembles as i frantically thought of a time and a place, but I had no recollection of the bruises whatsoever.

rest, though, I lost self-control and devoured on spot.

Wordy and confusing!

I could remember people, faces, but everything had started to blur.

Your grammar needs a touch up here.

I would soon know nothing but my cell and[the time I had spent here] [s]time here[/s].

They were too strong.

When I awoke-wait, no, that’s not entirely true. When the swelling that puffed my eyes closed went down enough that I was able to open them for the first time in what felt like days, it hit me that I had no idea how long I had been here.

WOW. That's a mouthful! Try and separate it into smaller sentences, and something like: After a long time, the swelling on my eyes went down, and I open them for the first time in what seemed like ages.

The human spirit can only resist without hope for so long.

Oh... it's a human. I thought it was about animal rights or something!

Is this how the[y] feed the soon dead?

Also, you should put thought in italics.

On it, [s]laid[/s][either was, or lay] a slice of dark bread

It was a long, shinning red silk rope.

WHAT!?!? Honestly, I nearly had tears in my eys when I read this!

Taking the me[s]n[/s]tal plate

Lol, type... mental plate!

So when then, when

What!?! Explain please!
Well, overall it was a good story. I did keep on guessing all of the way through, but sadly, it was in vain. I still don't know:
Why he was imprisoned
What country he was in
What year it was
Who the people were
Why he was imprisoned (That's very important, it gets two entries)
Now that I think of it... If it was a he or a she!

Sadly, You have to work on your endings. Everything else was good though. It had nice body and excellent use of personal voice. You need to keep the reader involved though. Why was he imprisoned? We need to know this as it centers the whole story! I think if you added that in somewhere, then you could end it here:

There was one other object lying innocently on my tray, and I slowly picked it up. It was a long, shinning red silk rope.

But seriously, it was a good story, just work on endings, and showing/not telling!

Keep writing, and good luck!

Hey, Anna! Of course I'll do this for you

Some punctuation thingies here:

I had even gotten used to the food, or lack thereof, I should say.

Even so, the light from what I presumed to be a hallway outside my cell, gave me some touch of ungodly hope.

watery soup–like thing the best I could

long enough to make the walk from wall to wall, no more than a few steps, hard. Replace the commas with dashes.

My body began to shake with held–back fear

Eventually, I knew this with a certainty, I would give up. Replace the commas with dashes again.

Before ten seconds had passed, my legs were shaking

These just help the reader to understand the text a little better.


Spelling/other thingies:

a white dove and shin[s]n[/s]ing sun that the prison was devoid of

I hadn’t eaten in who knows how long. [s]-t[/s]Time was nonexistent here, my days controlled by the flow of dim light through the bars.

There was a larger rattling on my wall, and I let loose a small yelp

My voice was hoarse from lack of use

When I awoke-wait, no, that’s not entirely true. Leave some space around the dash.

When the swelling that puffed my eyes closed went down enough [s]that I was[/s] for me to be able to open them for the first time in what felt like days

So I [s]fought[/s] kept fighting, a silent, hopeless fight.

Surprised, I had known that my legs would be weak, but I didn't know they were this weak.[s]?,[/s]

Is this how they feed the soon-to-be dead? I wondered

No matter how pretty the mask was

On it, there lay a slice of dark bread, glistening with butter.

It was a long, shin[s]n[/s]ing red silk rope.

About the beginning:

If it's a possible for a beginning to be abrupt, this was a little. I think that the opening paragraph felt a little rushed; instead of going immediately to the details of light and its lack and how the MC curls in a ball, you could've slowed it down by describing the cell a bit more, or maybe giving us some explanation about why the MC was in that cell (though I liked the mysterious atmosphere). So, in a nutshell, the beginning was well written, though a little rushed.


What I felt was a little out-of-place:

The beating scene. The existing of the beating is okay, and telling about it, but I don't think the actual now-happening beating was necessary. I think you were going for a feeling of paranoia and confusion, and that would get better emphasized if all of what's left from the world outside is a hand that throws in a plate of food every now and then. So what I think you should do (or what I would do) is to ditch the whole beating and the men.


But don't think that all I'm going to do is to shred you...

...because I loved this. Now I realize how much I'm into unexplained things (in some level, because I did say that thing about the beginning), and I very much liked the feeling of the paranoia, as I said. You know, this reminded me of the Pit and the Pendulum by Edgar Allan Poe! I was panting and shaking with the MC, and I admit I cried in the end, not wholly because she hanged herself (I'm convinced the MC is a female) but because the whole story was so effective. And I disagree with the previous reviewer about the ending, it was great. Sure, it would be "Wow!" even though you ended this to the rope sentence, but I think it's good as it is. I hope your English teacher understands how talented student he/she has.

Great job *clicks the star*

(I don't give out stars very often, I'm just not used to it. But you deserve it. )


Demeter
xxx

Hi! This was really well written- you have managed to show a truly moving piece brilliantly. I think a lot of nitpicks have been done already but I will point out what I can (sorry if I repeat what other people have said)

It filtered through the barred window, all three inches of it, which cut through my wall near the ceiling, too far up for me to even touch.

I'd change 'which cut through' to 'cutting through' or start it as a new sentence with 'It cut through' so that it runs more smoothly.

a white dove and shinning sun that the prison was devoid of.

Instead of 'the' prison I'd say either 'my prison' or 'this prison'.

I hated this, and fought it with a savage resistance, each day making it a goal to relive some memory, so dusty it was nigh forgotten, to remind me that there was life besides this.

I'd break this up into two sentences with a full stop after resistance and beginning the next with 'Each day I made it my'. As you begin with 'I hated this' I'd change how you end the sentence from 'besides this', perhaps to 'outside of these four walls' or something similar.

The only reason I did not do this was that the memories were my only light in this place, the only real one anyway.

I'd get rid of 'do this' as I don't think you need it.

If I had told them, they would have done everything to take away any shred of hope that I possessed.

'I had left' might sound better than possessed- just my preference

There was a rattling outside my cell or cage as I liked to think of it, and I perked up, slowly pushing myself into a sitting position.

You need a dash after cell.

More than surprised I was scared. Scared that I didn’t remember when that had happened scared that I was losing my soul and mind here.

I think you need a comma after surprised. Grammar seems to have been covered well by the previous reviewers but I'll point it out sometimes too in case they missed something

What they were so scared of was people like me.

As you say scared quite a lot before this I'd change this word to something like frightened or worried.

Quickly, I leapt forward, rescuing the crust of bread and watery soup like thing the best I could. It was rare to get food, and I could lose none. Not if I wanted to survive, that is.

I'd just leave it as 'watery soup'. I'd say 'I couldn't afford to lose any' or 'I could afford to lose none' instead of 'I could lose none'. I don't think you need that is on the end of the last sentence, I think it may sound better without it.

I knew that I should save the food, and I put half the bit of stale bread back on the tray for later.

I'd say 'so I put' instead of 'and I put'.

The rest, though, I lost self-control and devoured on spot.

I'd rephrase this a bit to something like 'I lost my self control with the rest and devoured it on the spot.'

I could not remember a time when I did not feel this hunger, no matter how hard I tried.

As you have just said hunger I'd maybe change this to something like craving or longing.

There was a larger rattling on my wall, and I let lose a small yelp, knowing what was going to happen.

Instead of saying 'on my wall' I'd say 'My wall rattled' and I'd replace larger with something else- maybe louder or more violently.

My body began to shake with held back fear as I watched the door open, invisible until it moved.

Suppressed might be better than 'held back'.

I cried out, but suddenly went silent as he dragged me down the hall. I never remembered much of this hall, oddly, my memory blank with the fear of the impending pain.

You use suddenly shortly after here and I'm not sure if it fits in well with this sentence. Maybe you could say 'but swiftly became silent'. I'd add 'became' after memory and instead of 'with the' say 'from'.

Time here had changed me, though. And not for the better.

I'd miss out 'though' and put a dash instead of a full stop after me.

I brought up my hands in a futile effort to protect myself as the blows started to pour on me, pounding my mind until it retreated into the darkness once more.

I'm not sure about pour- how about rain down?

Upon first thinking of it, I was sure that I had been here for a month, no more. That didn’t sit right, though, and I started to think deeper.

I think 'I started to think deeper' could be replaced with something better, perhaps something like 'I started to question my judgement'.

Surprised, I had known that my legs would be weak, but this weak?

I can see how this could work but I'm not sure if it does, I'd write 'I was' before surprised anyway

I felt my heart freeze up with fear and surprise as I viewed the bloody, congealed dark liquid that was scrawled, words of an unknown language, over my legs.

I'd leave out up after freeze. I think this is a really good description but may be just a bit too long- I'd suggest leaving out 'words of an unknown language'. As you have just said 'surprised' I'd maybe change it to something like shock.

I cried not for uncaring brutality of my captures.

I think captures should be capturers- I know it says its spelt wrong but 'captures' would be what you have captured so I don't think it would be that

I knew the day had come when I opened my eyes after half-hearted attempts at sleep.

I'd add something like several before half-hearted.

Sooner, rather than later, I would find what I was looking for and when I did, well, I knew what would happen then.

I'd change the comma after when I did to ...

The small slit opened, and a small, metal try was pushed in.

I'd use another word other than small to describe the tray as you have just described the opening as small. 'Pushed through' might be better than 'pushed in'.

Is this how the feed the soon dead? I wondered, my mouth opening as I saw the tray. If so, why the hell didn’t I die sooner?

the needs to be they and I think you could use a better description than 'mouth opening'- maybe 'my mouth hanging open in shock'.

On it, laid a slice of dark bread, glistening with butter.

laid should be lay a.

Curiously, I took the spoon, dipping a little of it out and tasting it.

I'd replace dipping with scooping to make more sense.

I remembered nothing of them, baring every memory from my mind.

Do you mean barring?

Taking the mental plate, I stood on wobbling legs and with the last bit of strength,

mental should be metal and I'd add a 'my' before strength or say 'the last bit of strength left to me'.

Turned sideways, it managed to fit through. Once through, it clanked against the outside wall. Testing it, I pulled down. The metal plate pressed against the bars, but was unable to go back through.

You say 'through' a few times here- I'd replace one or two of the words with something else or just leave it out.

I was forced to stand on my toes just to continue to draw one raged breath after another.

raged should be ragged.

Overall comments: Sorry the nit-picks are so long! Quite a lot is just my opinion and suggestions so don't worry about them if you think differently, your story is amazing! Its very well written

You can definitely describe things very well but sometimes I think it could be cut down a little bit otherwise there was a bit too much, I also noticed you said 'though' quite a lot- which was OK sometimes but is generally one of those things that really annoys me! For a couple of them I think you could reword the sentences to miss it out. There were a couple of words you repeated but I think I have pointed them all out

I like your general storyline- its kind of drifting rather than a laid out plot but I found it very effective. The only changes to the story that I think would improve it would be to maybe mention more of the darkness at the beginning- you focus a lot on the light and the hope from it but I think it might work well to speak a bit about the terrors of the darkness. You've left a lot blank but it works I think, although a little more description to the hallway and prison cell would be good.

I think it might be good to add a bit on sound- you have described things well but I'd quite like to know what it sounds like where they are- is it completely quiet? Can they hear the drip of water from somewhere? Is the absence of sound suffocating? Its good to appeal to all the senses.

Well I loved your story, this definitely demonstrates talent, Hope I've helped!