Young Writers Society

This is without a doubt my most personal work, inspired by countless dreams I've endured over the years, and things in my life I wish I could go back in time and fix. The story essentially follows several characters in different worlds; one is a student in our world, in the present, and the other is an angry, vengeful idealist who dwells in an unknown city, a thousand years into the future. Their lives are thrown into chaos as their separate stories collide, and form a survival act, in which they are forced to work together in order to stay alive. And the only key to their survival, it seems, is to follow and put their trust in a being whose mind borders on sociopathic tendencies.

This is the first three chapters, and one of the characters is developed here. I'm working on chapter 4 right now, and I'll probably put it up here before this weekend is done.

This is rated 18+ for: Strong language, some sexual and drug/alcohol content, and disturbing content as well.

I appreciate and welcome any reading and critiques. Thank you.

Yo,
just read the first three chapters.
These days I tend to decline commenting on the plots. There are no 'good' and 'bad' plots, it all hinges on how one swings it via style,characters, message, insight, and possibly gimmick. Accepting of course, that the plot must have inner consistency.
So, the chapters so far are quite not enough to judge the plot's inner consistency, or what the message is, if any, no mind shattering insisghts either so far, but characters and style can already be discussed.

Also, whe reviewing a book, I don't touch words and sentences, but rather structure and atmosphere, but since what you've posted so far is still small enough for more detailed scrutuny, I will add some more specific comments.

The main protagonist, and the people of his age group with whom he interacts are believable. Sometimes he sounds like a grumpy old man, but that adds to his uniqueness, separates him from the others.

Some sentences border on a 'drama queen' style.
1. The very air itself is moistened (1) haha. There is emphasis here which does not seem to be justified by anything around the guy. It's raining. The air is moist. Sounds a little silly, like - 'The sun was down and the very air itself was cool!' or 'It was a summer day and the very air itself was warm!' dramatic crescendo, clash of cymbals, hehe
2. Also him having no relief from the burning conviction in his heart, rage like Lucifer, etc. These inner dialogues of his do fit in with his character, his tendency to be quirky and rather full of himself, but in the very beginning they strike one as odd, because they are justified only pages later, once we get to know what type of guy the main protagonist is. But at the moments of their appearence, these sentences stand out a bit like unjustified pathos.

Here are some sentences which do not quite work out as they should.
1. Unlike the other two men in the room, I was not equipped for these sorts of social occasions (2)- thus worded, and in the context, he sounds like a eunuch pining for his lost equipment
2. These were inaccuracies forced on my character (4) - rather inaccurate, forced way of saying it:) It is after all a question of how he is seen, not how he is molded to be and behave. A thin line between the two admittedly, but still.
3. The heavy pelts that had been coming down were now light taps against the windshield, gentle, but still in constant waves (7) - that constant waves bit - ruins the beauty of the whole sentence. It read fantastically, and then it falters with these constant waves. Too dry an ending for such a beautiful pulp sentence.

There is also certain repetition in the continuous use of metaphore concerning the dancing kids in the basement - meat metaphores. It gets a tad tedious./of course it also makes one expect pick-ax attacks on the dancers any minute now /

Based on the Desert Messiah and these three chapters, I think I can localize your stylistic strength at this stage.
1. The pulp style of description. It works beautifully there, and it works beautifully here.
2. Your bursts of unique stylistic insight, like this:
She must’ve assumed then that there was no one behind her, as that she pulled an about-face and ran straight into me, almost dropping her coffee.
And this:
Get out of my way.” She said then. I had no clue where to move, so I stepped to the right
Also stuff like him appologizing when he could be heard, the fabrics rubbing as the people danced and grinded, etc. These little details are great. That's real style, very well worded observation.

All in all, sometimes the narrative snags on awkward wordings or presentations here and there, but on the whole it flows smoothly, with bursts of great descriptive style, which I hope does not disappear now that the real plot begins. It was a pleasure reading it.

P.S. All the way through my body, I felt the cool revive some of the humor (26) - what humor? Hehe, I didn't notice much humor in his morose brooding

Thanks mate. Here's the next chapter.

Yo,
What is reality? What is god? Who am I? Do I trust my mind or what other people say?
Hahaha, splendid, splendid. Here are some minor things which I thought as I read it.

The train had come, and had popped off of the rails it had been guided along for miles and miles - Now here you can let yourself go, pour on the drama. The screech, the agony of torn metal, the tilting of the carriages, sparks flying, the whole lot. Why control yourself - this is a scene where the pen can fly.

heads striking against the window, or body being flung against the other passengers - to keep the narrative balance, it would be better if it's either both heads and bodies, or head and body.

and I was unaware of the brief pain - If he wasn't aware, then who was? Where did this thing come from in the first place, if he, the narrator, was not aware of it? Perhaps he rather was 'almost' unaware, or 'hardly aware' or something.

trying to escape as I batted the wall, desperate to hit the lit switch, finally succeeding after several attempts./another example of your way with words. Great stuff/

The more I repeated the word ‘dream’ to myself, the hollower it seemed to become in my mouth. So I tried thinking it instead of muttering it. No luck. - The 'no luck' disrupts the rhythm. Either substitute it with something equally elegant as the preceding two sentences, or add a continuation like 'no luck. Now it was hollow in my mind' or something. Otherwise its a descriptive episode which starts at full speed and then aborts.

When he enters the cafe, and the heat washes over his body, there is a missing scene of him collecting the cold as he walks from car to cafe. Otherwise it seems that he was in a car to evade the cold, then entered the cafe, but somehow in betwee managed to get enough cold, to feel it leave him once in a warm place.

I no doubt looked hilarious to other nearby people in the café, doubled over, face crinkled in agony, teeth gritted savagely like a wounded animal. - abrupt style change. It starts as sarcastic whining, then suddenly moves into a serious pulp description. Either he didn't look hilarious, or he wasn't like a wounded animal.
Or, if this is a conscious dissonance between the hilarity and the wounded animal, via which you are reminding the reader sternly how screwed up people in general are, then you need another baby-talk sentence for the reader, in which you spell it out.

There was a reason I always tried to avoid it like the plague, but now I had clearly outdone myself... - when the logic of a sentence doesn't follow a simple line, you have to baby-talk to the reader. In this instance there are two mutually exclusive statements - he avoids it like the plague - he had outdone himself drinking it. Perhaps he 'tries' to avoid, or 'had clearly forgotten that...something something'

As he sits lost in thought in the cafe, add a descriptive sentence or two of his environment at some intervals, to keep up the props signifying the background of his brooding, otherwise the imagination of the reader stops maintaining the cafe, and the protagonist starts residing in a conceptual fog. Which in itself is a good literary tool to get the reader off balance, when his buddies suddenly reappear with coffee, but still a vacuum for the protagonist is rarely good.

The lack of genuine meaning in the talk of the two buddies, who use ready made words to communicate is good observation. Another baby-talk sentence to break it down perhaps? To spell out that they just make mammalian noises to maintain a safe atmoshpere and are not really talking? Or whatever it is the narator means.

OK! Ready when you are for chapter five