Body and Soul

Sorry for being so tardy with this. I've split up the crit into two parts. Here is the first.

The prince paused, unsure. [This sentence sounds weird, perhaps - The prince paused in the night, unsure.] The cobbled street was a river of reflected silver this night [strike, this night, superfluous] marred only by the harsh angles of his shadow. Amid the derelict buildings, his polished appearance and dignified poise jarred [jarred is jarring. Okay, I'll stop making bad puns]. An expression of deep unease rested on his fine, elegant [strike elegant] features; he had long since lost his way in the warren of streets, buildings and bridges [umm, isn‘t the definition of warren: An overcrowded living area -- A mazelike place where one may easily become lost? I‘d nix streets, and just have buildings and bridges. Stick with the nice alliteration]. Shivering in the frigid cold, breath misting in the air, he surveyed his surroundings. [I’d put a colon or semicolon here, instead of a full-stop.] There were no lanterns, or artificial light, indeed he had long since left the populated areas and ventured now into realms where even his sovereign rule held no sway. [This last sentence comes off wrong, a leaves something to be desired.]

Follow the trail of the moon’s blood. The message had said, [nix said] instigating a hasty departure from the revelry. A pile of crumpled, discarded finery glimmered at the edge of a secret tunnel, the only sign of his haste. [Huh? This seems out of place, like it should have been in the first sentence.] A path outlined in silver stretched away from it, leading him to the meeting place. Inconspicuously clothed, he had followed it, eyes darting about wandering if anyone else remarked [remarked as in sound from one’s mouth? There are other people on this street? Where are they?] on the shining road. It soon became apparent that only he could see the path. He felt a deep foreboding, at this sign of witchery, serving to remind him that he dealt with unholy powers best left alone. Nor was it randomly chosen, this passage way [nix way]. It had led out and away from the palatial parties and wealthy quarters where no sign of wear or tear showed. Into shadowed streets and darkened alleys, he had been led, along avenues filled with the homeless, the beggars, the poor: women and children. [last was a fragment] The war had not been easy on these, their young men and working husbands taken, maimed, killed.

The women and children in the street, unable to pay taxes and unaided by a cash-less treasury, were left to the mercy of the vagrants. The prince’s [Hmm, so he’s a prince. I would be hesitant at revealing this so soon, perhaps he is just a man.] jaw tightened in anger as he recalled their avid staring at his clothing, their unshielded bodies bearing the brunt of the harsh winter cold. The wailing of women clutching small, blue bodies still echoed in his ears: but always, he strode onward, never faltering. He bore the weight of their grief on his back, their tears and expectations, but the Empire had to go on. Sacrifices had to be made and he [had] accepted this hard truth. He had [nix had] continued, withdrawn. Now finally he stood, stamping his feet and blowing hard on his numb fingers, at the end of the trail.

Come on, where are you Patrick?! Even as he thought it, a shadow detached itself from a wall, striding fluidly toward him. He stifled instinctive recoil [this presents all wrong - perhaps: He stilled the instinctive need to recoil, or something like that], mastering his surprise.

[new paragraph] “Patrick!” he hissed.

[new paragraph] “What the devil took you so long?”

[new paragraph] He was angry now; he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be frightened so easily. Patrick had always been a fey child though; constantly disappearing and reappearing at odd intervals. That hadn’t stopped the page boy and the heir apparent from becoming fast friends however, becoming life long friends [nix becoming life long friends or nix fast friends, making it: from becoming life long friends despite] despite the gulf in status.

“Apologies, master.” Patrick said, smoothly doffing his bowler hat. “I was delayed by noble patrons seeking after your health.”

[new paragraph] Ah yes, the ruse that had allowed him to withdraw from the ball. Silence stretched now between them, neither wanting to make the first move. Patrick leaned forward, hair platinum blonde in the light and emerald eyes locked onto royal blue:

[new paragraph] “Are you ready for this, William?” A fraught whisper, filled with fear. [Fragment, rephrase.]

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” William said softly. “Now where do we go?” They stood now, in the shadow of a bridge. [is this statement/information particularly necessarily?]

“Don’t you see, William?” Patrick said in a strained voice. “We’re already there.”

[new paragraph] Indeed, he saw now with piercing clarity. The shadow around them shifted and flowed, cold was replaced with warmth and walls now enclosed them. [I would combine this two sentences: Indeed, he saw; the shadow had shifted and the cold was replaced with warmth, and walls now enclosed them.] He shivered at the strangeness of it all, staring about him in morbid curiosity. [nix the last phrase = staring about him in morbid curiosity.] Exquisite music danced through the room, with its grime smeared wood panelling, hard packed dirt for a floor, and incongruously, a lovely hand crafted oak table that gleamed in the spluttering light of a single candle. [There is too much going on in this last sentence, too much imagery. Slow down!] There was only one seat. Its occupant was shrouded in shadow; the feeble light only allowing glimpses: dark hair, a fine elegant hand—inch long nails gently scraping on the tabletop and one piercing eye that glittered strangely. [nice description of the occupant.]

“You’ve [spell this out.] come, on the hour twain the death of one night and the birthing of another morn, seeking answers to which you have no right.” Whispered words, issued it seemed from a thousand mouths, flocking about, beating at them. [this: flocking about, betating at them, makes no sense.] “What do you offer in exchange?”

[new paragraph] The heat, previously welcomed, bore down on them now, an unseen snake that smothered in the darkness. Sweat beading on his brow, William licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond. Before he could say anything however, Patrick stepped forward and knelt on both knees. [hmm, since the act of kneeling is to go down on both knees, I’d say knelt/kneeled down.]

[new paragraph] “Milord, we beg of you this indulgence. In our hour of desperation, your generosity will not be forgotten.” he said [spoke rather than said, seems the better word here], eyes on the floor.

[new paragraph] From seemingly nowhere [seemingly nowhere seems like an author‘s crutch, like you don‘t have to explain where the object comes from at all.], he pulled forth a rolled bundle, unfurled it and revealed a meagre bread roll and wheel of cheese. William stiffened in princely outrage; he was no peasant to offer so poor an exchange! [But, isn’t Patrick doing the exchanging?] He didn't hear the soft sigh from the other[s] [or: the soft sighs, nostalgic, in recognition and worship.], nostalgic for recognition and worship.

He burst out, impulsive. [oh. Erm, I’d put the: He burst out…, after the dialogue.] "Please, Honoured Sir, disregard my servant's ill-advised offering! I am no peasant: I offer riches and land!"

Silence, but for the beautiful music which made for a sorrowful backdrop and beneath this; [nix: beneath this;] the gentle scrape, scrape, scrape of [a nail or nails] nail on wood. Then, "Is that so?" Again, they were buffeted [recast: They were, again, buffeted…] by the thousand fold voice, but it was softer this time, with an undercurrent of amusement. Patrick, unnoticed, withdrew his offering, shuffling back out of view in humiliated [huh?] silence.

William drew himself up. "Yes." [I’m not sure that William saying anything quite works, perhaps he just nods.]

The figure straightened. "Very well. Do you, William Avan Norotir, willingly bind yourself to this agreement?" The one eye visible burned now like a tiny sun, illuminating his soul, his secrets.

He swallowed. "Yes."

The invisible violinist paused, as if on some unspoken cue.

[new paragraph] "Who stands as surety?"

"I do." -- This from the still kneeling Patrick.

"Then so be it."

The prince tensed, wary [is wary needed?]. But there was no flash of light or dramatic thunderclap, no pentagram of flames or blood sacrifice. He felt himself relax, [and released] releasing a pent up breath.

A grim chuckle came from the other then, as if he [this is the first time you give gender to the other, was that your intention?] heard the prince's thoughts. “I have no need for gimmicks, young prince, but know this. Break your word and your soul will be mine. Now then, ask of me what you will.”

And there it was. The thing he had worked so hard towards, the reason for all the secrecy and this clandestine meeting in the dark heart of the empire. His hands trembled just at the thought of being so close. [combine these two: His hands trembled just at the thought of being so close, and the jittery bird that fluttered in his chest burst free then:] The jittery bird that fluttered in his chest burst free then:

"I want the war to the end, this feud to be done with and peace to be achieved at last!" And now the veneer of royal invulnerability cracked; desperation in his face and voice clear. “Please, I’ll do anything.” [pare this down a bit: And now the veneer cracked, the desperation clear in his face and voice. “Please, I’ll do anything.”]

The nails clicked once, and the music resumed.

He fell to his knees then, no longer a prince, just a man. He stared at this otherworldly being, pleading with his eyes for understanding … [yick, get the ellipses out of here, go for a comma.] for forgiveness. His pride and vanity had caused this war. There [once] was to be peace amid a glorious union of empires. But he had seen the royal princess of that other nation [*snicker snicker*], and she had not been to his liking. Plump and pallid, with frumpy clothes and a dismissive attitude, she irked him from the very beginning. Tall, athletic, with chiselled good looks and brilliant blue eyes, he was far too good for her! [exclamation needed?] He had flown into a terrible rage on catching sight of her and eventually she had fled home in tears. [Ooops, now that’s some combustion of stupid.] The shame of it almost stopped his heart now. A furious round of diplomacy, threats and shouted promises, bred war then. Every day from then onward, he was dogged by nightmares: [full-stop instead of colon.]

He saw again, the legions of men, marching out with pride; then flew over bodies broken and bloody in fields of gore. Women and children in the street, crying for help, for even a blanket to wrap those terribly still, cold blue forms. All the while his nobles danced and laughed and partied the night away. And it was his fault. [combine the sentences frags: And it was his fault that his family was hounded…] That his family was hounded by assassins and his people died in the streets, that two empires bled and hungered. The guilt had finally been too much and he had sought help.

The nails clicked once more; it seemed a decision had been made. The shadowy figure reached down, pulling something upward and placing it on the table. It was a doll, beautifully crafted, porcelain white, with bouncing golden curls. But the eyes … William felt a wave of goose bumps prickle all over as he saw two very real grey pupils staring back at him. A world of horror existed there, of pain and loneliness and sadness beyond bearing. He turned away, tears pricking his eyes.

“Ah, you have noticed my treasure. Is she not exquisite?” The hand was stroking the doll now; its eyes [the doll’s eyes or the figure’s eye?] rolled up in obvious pleasure and the demon shuddered. William felt sick, seeing this, and he couldn’t help wonder how she had come to this.

“Her father lost a wager, you see… [dash instead of ellipses] wouldn’t pay the price. So an exchange was made, and his daughter sold.” The demon said, the echoed whispers somewhat subdued now. “She is my companion now. But I long for another; someone to partner the Dark Dance with me.”

[new paragraph] The demon’s words came back to him then, about owning his soul. [I think rather than explaining - telling us that the words came back to him, maybe have William think those words.] Before he could think more on this, the thing moved. The doll stood and wobbled forward on its own two legs in a sick parody of life. Her arms and legs began twisting and jerking, unnaturally, then becoming more fluid and graceful. [Recast: Her arms and legs began twisting and jerking, in unnatural fits, only to then become more fluid and graceful.] She was dancing [comma] William realized in surprise, which was quickly followed by anger. This display was for his benefit, it showed that the demon owned her, body and soul.

Tendrils of darkness, bolder then the night, gathered about her [the doll’s?] twirling form. Her movements became even faster, till she blurred from sight and a small cyclone of shadow spun on the tabletop. Then it too was gone.

He didn’t have time to question or wonder, swaying on his knees as he was, praying to a demon. In fact he wasn’t even sure of the origins of this creature; Patrick had been the one to set this up, Patrick who he trusted so much. Before he could pursue this line of thought, the music swelled and grew with [in not with] volume, picking him up in its gentle, sorrowful waves.

...

And that's the first part done. I'll try and get to the rest and my overall notes soon, but I've been pretty swamped with work and school.

Chowder, be free.
Cal.

Young Writers Society

Sponsors

About / Info

Forums & RPG

Literary

Resources