Young Writers Society

Right, so I've unfortunately lost the original version of this (argh) so I've been trying to re-write it, and it hasn't been as successful as I would have liked. So, here is my attempt at a re-write:


A cool breeze swept across Dùbhlan's sketches of the towering forest in which she sat, awakening her from thought. She looked up through the thick, black branches, noting that the sun was turning red; it was time to go home. Another breeze swept through Dùbhlan's dark, unkempt hair, taking with it her sketches, and scattering them throughout the trees. Mumbling crossly to herself, she tromped through the wet, fallen leaves of the Scottish autumn, trying to find every last sketch. But as she tread, the wind picked up its speed, whistling through the branches, and making her chase further and further into the forest, until she reached a sudden drop. Stopping just in time, she watched her beautiful sketches fall into the lonely pool below the drop.

She sat down gloomily at the foot of the steep hill, staring blankly ahead, until she realized her surroundings were quite different than she could remember. I must've gotten myself turned around, she thought in frustration, how typical. She had never gone this far into the forest she called Cridhe-an-Alban. As her eyes searched for a familiar path, Dùbhlan became aware of a little yellow flower sitting beside her. Its muted green stem was thick, and though capable of holding many buds, gave way to but one gleaming yellow flower--alone, like Dùbhlan so often felt. The flower struck an odd curiosity in her, so she picked it, fearing she would not find another like it, and tucked it safely behind her ear.

Her spirit somewhat lifted at her discovery of the flower, Dùbhlan stood, deciding she might as well try to find a path that would take her home. She began to turn, but she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Turning to face the pool, she looked closer, and saw that an aged old man move below the drop, seemingly without noticing her. She bent for a closer look. This was no human at all! A fairy, perhaphs? He had a long face, with a cheerless expression, though he mumbled an unfamiliar song as he picked berries from a bush. As he moved about, Dùbhlan noticed his legs were covered in thick brown fur, with hooves in place of feet. Curiosity getting the better of her, she began to climb down the steep hill, the flower behind her ear falling to the ground. When she reached the ground, the fairy was no where in sight. Dùbhlan picked up the flower, studying it; there he was again! She turned around, dropping the flower in awe, but he was gone!

"Wait!" she called out. She picked up the flower, and began to walk the opposite direction, but again! there he was. Now wary of the flower, she dropped the it while facing his direction, the fairy still unaware of her presence. As the petals dropped from her grasp, he disappeared. Facing the same direction, she picked up the flower, and, as she expected, he appeared. It was the flower! It must be a key into the Fairy World, she decided.

She tread silently closer, and the fairy caught sight of her, but stood his ground. But as Dùbhlan approached, he began to back away.

"No--" she whispered, not wanting to lose sight of him again.

"So you can see me," the fairy confirmed, his gentle voice strange to Dùbhlan's ears. His large eyes glistened, reflecting the noiseless pool.

"Yes," breathed Dùbhlan, slightly taken aback as she glanced at the flower in her hand.

"And you do not run?" asked the fairy, obviously as bewildered as Dùbhlan.

"Is there reason to?" asked Dùbhlan, now frightened.

"No--no, but all others do. My appearance perhaphs? I do not frighten you then?"

"Frighten me?" she asked, hoping the fairy would not sense her slight trepidation. "No. No, no, of course not. You've met others--like me then?"

"'Course I have. But none that stayed," said the fairy with a melancholy chuckle.

"Is it--is it this," said Dùbhlan, gesturing toward the flower in her hand, "that makes you visible?"

"Me, everything. Yes. That is the Culver's Key, and I thought I had gotten rid of the last of them."

"The last of them? Why?" asked Dùbhlan, unable to imagine why he would dispose of such a wonderful gift.

"Because I'm tired of men--trompin' into a world that isn't their's--and befoulin' it. They don' like folk like us," he said bitterly, digging his hooves into the leaves.

"I should go then," said Dùbhlan quickly, hoping she had not angered him.

"No--not you. You're not afraid, are you?" the fairy replied, a look of marvel lighting his face. "It's good you've found that. I'm glad."

"Y-you are?" Dùbhlan asked, rather surprised. "Me too. You know this forest well then?"

"Very well."

"I've gotten meself turned around. I'm supposed to be home by now. W--will you show me a way out?"

"That I will."

The strange fairy led Dùbhlan out as she had come, but as the trees thinned, and the forest was coming to an end, Dùbhlan regretted having to leave.

"I don't like to go out there, ya' don't mind, do you?" the fairy asked, his eyes lamenting the dwindling trees.

"No," replied Dùbhlan solemnly.

"Will you come back again?" he asked hopefully.

"As soon as I can," she promised, turning loathingly to the cold road home.

Im liking what Ive read so far, but I also think there's room for improvement.
Firstly the ending is strange, I dont think it should be ended with dialogue. Maybe you could say something like; "As soon as I can" she promised before turning away and leaving the forest.

Also with the dialogue; its awkward.

"Because I'm tired of men--trompin' into a world that isn't their's--and befoulin' it."

This is a bitter statement, but there is nothing showing that. He could be saying it in a toneless voice for all we know. So you should add at the end, an emotion: "Because I'm tired of men--trompin' into a world that isn't their's--and befoulin' it." he said bitterly, vigorously, in a voice wrought with emotion.
Any one of those would do.

I found no grammatical errors; evidence of nice work, I s'pose.
Anyway, good work.

This is a good start, but very short. We didn't see very much of a story here.

Rosin tromped through the wet, fallen leaves of the Scottish fall.

This may be a bit nitpicky, but the use of "fall" and "fallen" seems a bit repetitive. Instead you might have put autumn. One thing that helps in making sure that phrases flow is to read them aloud.

... but again! there he was.

some capitalization is needed here, or it might be better to add a comma between again and there, and then if you like, put an exclamation point at the end.

A great start!

Thanks to both of you for the advice!

No prob, Bob... Er... Niamh.

This ends a bit randomly, but I'm trying to find the actual story, and not just what I'm making up as I go along, so bear with me. Hopefully I'll find what I'm looking for. Also a note, I've changed the main character's name from "Roisin" to "Dùbhlan," because "Roisin" is an Irish Gaelic name, therefore not fitting to a story that takes place in Scotland. "Dùbhlan is Scottish Gaelic, and is pronounced "Duve-lan." Also, the name of the forest has changed from "Chroi-an-Alban" to "Cridhe-an-Alban." Both mean "Heart of Scotland, but I think "Cridhe" is more proper. Don't trust my Gaelic in Irish or Scottish though. I'm not as fluent as I would like.

Dùbhlan broke into a run. She knew she must get home. 'He,' would be waiting. What a joy, she thought sarcastically, wondering how late she was. Her parents were going to be angry that she had kept 'him' waiting. 'He,' was yet another young man, and always of nobility, that her parents had invited to dine with Dùbhlan. A different man had appeared at the dinner table almost every night since she turned seventeen. She was of the marrying age, thus her parents expected her to soon be married. But Dùbhlan had other ideas. . . .

Finally she arrived in front of her large, wooden double doors of her manor, the last light of the sun glinting on the tall stone columns on either side. She smoothed out her dusty, wrinkled purple dress, and took a breath. Resolutely, she knocked three times on the door. She twisted her hands into each other as she awaited the lecture she knew she would get. The door swung open, and a rush of hot air warmed Dùbhlan's cheeks. But she was not glad to feel it, for at the same moment, she was grabbed by the arm and hurriedly wrenched into the house, with the door slammed behind her. The face of Dùbhlan's mother was twisted in exasperation.

"Where have you been?" Dùbhlan's mother demanded. "What have you done to your--your hair. You dare walk into this house to meet dear Burraidh--you've kept him waiting--like this? Look, your dress is torn! What's this?" she screeched, picking up a few strands of Dùbhlan's hair, that happened to be attatched to some leaves. "You come to meet him with leaves in your hair? You've been to that bloody forest again, haven't you?"

Dùbhlan looked up, deciding what to say that would please her mother.

"Give me a moment, and I'll fix--fix my hair, and clothes," she said calmly.

"No--you've kept him here long enough--he'll see your disobedience," shrieked her mother. She looked at Dùbhlan disdainfully. "I tell you--you'll never marry! Now go!"

Dùbhlan walked into the dining hall, her cheeks pink with anger. The gaze of her father struck her like an open palm. Sure enough, there he was, the man who she had kept waiting. He stood up, and bowed.

"My lady," said the new, dark haired man, and Dùbhlan held her hand out to him without enthusiasm, as was standard procedure by now. He kissed her hand, and bowed again.

"I am Sir Burraidh."

"Sir?" asked Dùbhlan in mock curiosity, forcing herself to be polite.

"Really, that doesn't matter, my lady," he said with a smug grin. "But, to satisfy your curiosity, I was knighted by Queen Elizabeth herself."

"Elizabeth?" Dùbhlan said, unable to hid her shock.

"Yes," said Burraidh questioningly.

"That's--that is nice," Dùbhlan muttered quickly as she sat down, trying to hide her disdain for Elizabeth--the woman Dùbhlan would never refer to as queen.

"So, Milady, what kept you?" asked Burraidh with a bit of condescension as he examined her filthy clothes and tangled hair.

"I--I went to the woods."

"A lady in the woods?" laughed Burraidh.

"Yes," said Dùbhlan, a bite in her voice.

"Surely you do not hunt?"

"If I did?"

Burraidh sat silent for a moment.

"You do speak your mind--" he began.

"Always," she retorted simply, picking up her fork.

A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Dùbhlan ate, hungry from the days' adventures. Her plate was filled with the finest meats and vegetables served in Scotland. Meals like this were abundant in Dùbhlan's household, for money was not scarce. She was the daughter of a nobleman, but this held little meaning to her. When she had eaten her fill, she stood, adressing Burraidh without hiding her sarcasm:

"It was delightful to meet you. I am excusing myself now. Farewell, Sir Burraidh."

Dùbhlan got up from the table and walked hastily from the room, knowing that her comments spelled trouble later, running up the numerous stairs, through the many hallways to her room. Remembering the fairy, and wanting desperately to return to Cridhe-an-Alban, she flipped open the lid of a wooden chest at the foot of her four poster bed. Inside was a voluminous number of sketches, a few items of clothing, and under all this: a book. The book that would tell her what exactly it was she met in Cridhe-an-Alban, filled with the myths of Scotland's Good Folk*. She plopped down on her bed and began flipping through the pages when there was a knock on her door.

BTW, when the story talks about Queen Elizabeth, it's talking about Queen Elizabeth I.

Matchmaking parents! Hehe! I was almost hoping this would be the guy she fell for, seeing as she walked in all dirty.

Your dialogue seems a little flat, not just in the place JigSaw pointed out either. You need to express the characters emotions a little better.

"Where have you been?" Dùbhlan's mother demanded. "What have you done to your--your hair. You dare walk into this house to meet dear Burraidh--you've kept him waiting--like this? Look, your dress is torn! What's this?" she barked, picking up a few strands of Dùbhlan's hair, that happened to be attatched to some leaves. "You come to meet him with leaves in your hair? You've been to that bloody forest again, haven't you?"

This is better. You can hear it exactly how her mother would say it. I'm not sure about using the word "barked". Maybe a different word? It's probably just me.

I like the story though, and the descriptions are pretty good. I really like the faery in the first part. He behaves like a fairy should, like how he likes her because she doesn't run. That's good. You change the spelling of fairy just in that last paragraph. Or was it because of the book title?

Thanks for reading my story, and thanks for the suggestions. You're right, I will go and modify the story as soon as I can. Slainte!

By the way, what language is your name? It sounds Old English.

I dont know how you can say this needed improvement ,it had realistic charecters that wouldent just say something out of the blue to fill space , it was deep , it almost had meaning . it wasnt barbie fairylant with flaoting marshmellows and pink rapits (it was original with the hairy ,fairy man ). but there was one thing that needed intence editing , you spelled faery wrong .

My name? Well, it's not any language. I made it up. And it's my pleasure to help!

Thanks, that is really encouraging.

About the word "fairy" and "faery," in a way, they have different meanings. Fairy is a very general term. There is no such being that is just a "fairy," as you will come to find later in the story. It is proper to write fairy, when you are talking about the being itself; but when talking about the Faery World, or Faery Book, you would use Faery, because that is the proper term for the Faery world. Maybe I should spell it the same throughout the story though, because this can become confusing. Thanks for your comments though!

Eloere--that's cool that you made that up. It really sounds like Old English--I love that language. Your name reminds me of the word for horse, "Eoh."

Gotta go, talk to you all later, and thanks!

Dùbhlan slammed the book shut, and hastily shoved it under her blanket. Behind her door came another knock.

"Yes?" she answered exhasperatedly.

"Sorry to disturb you," said Burraidh, opening the door.

"I'm not sure it's entirely proper for you to come in here, S-Sir," Dùbhlan said quickly, blushing more in anger than in embarrassment.

"Your father said it was okay for me to come and talk to you," replied Burraidh dully.

"If he wants me to come back down, which I won', he can ask me himself," Dùbhlan growled, "Now, if you please, sir--"

"Why do you go to that forest?" Burraidh interupted.

"What does this have to do with anything?" asked Dùbhlan heatedly.

"Well, you're different, you are. You seemed most--hestitant, when I mentioned my knighthood," said Burraidh, shuffling his feet nervously.

"Well you sure announced it quickly. Is there no more to you than knighthood?"

"You're very rash, you know," he retorted, looking irritated at his inability to impress Dùbhlan.

"Rash?" Dùbhlan said louder than she meant.

"You don't approve of Queen Elizabeth, do you?"

"What would make you say that?" said Dùbhlan as if she were shocked, though thoroughly discomforted by Burraidh's correct assumption.

"Well, you asked who I was talking about."

"It was a question!" she replied irately.

"Where does your loyalty lie?" Burraidh asked seriously.

"What is it to you? If my loyalty lies elsewhere, are you going to report me for treason?" said Dùbhlan scathingly, before she could stop herself. Burraidh's face turned red in anger.

"I could, actually," he assured darkly.

"Burraidh, please," Dùbhlan now begged, "really, I didn't mean it! I--I am rash. I speak out of frustration, you know. Really, I'm sorry, I don't think you understand me."

"Well, then I suppose I'll see you at dinner tomorrow," replied Burraidh simply.

"What?" asked Dùbhlan, bewildered by his sudden comment.

"I won't let word out of your--treasonous--opinions, if," he said, sneering, "you will accompany me tomorrow, to dine. At my manor."

Dùbhlan bowed her head, hating to submit, but with the leverage he now held, she supposed it may be worth it. Grudgingly, she agreed:

"Until tomorrow then, sir."

"Until tomorrow," he said, kissing her hand. Dùbhlan's stomach churned, and her eyes followed him as he headed out her door. She listened for him to reach the bottom of the stairs. As the sound of his steps subsided, Dùbhlan pulled the book back from underneath her woolen blanket, and began to flip through it.

"What have I gotten meself into?" she mumbled to herself, as she tried to find a picture that matched what she had earlier seen.

"Fear darrig, no. Kelpie--definitely not. Merrow, no. Nuckelavee--thankfully not. Bwca-hm, close I suppose, but I don't think--aw! Urisk!" she muttered excitedly, pointing to the spot in the book. Then she read quietly to herself: "Urisk: fein si an Alba*. A hand reached out for the friendship of man, though none darest grasp, thus consumed by a life forlorn." Dùbhlan slowly closed the book, thinking of how she often felt the same, and what luck it was to have met the Urisk. But then she solemnly realized that this could be taken away, if Burraidh were to find out.

Moving the woolen blankets, Dùbhlan replaced the book into the chest, and laid down. It had been quite a day today; never had she been engaged in a row like that with one of the men her parents had chosen. And never before had she met a fairy. Sitting upright, Dùbhlan reached behind her ear, panicked that she had forgotten about the Culver's Key she had left there. Soothing her momentary anxiety, the flower was within her grasp. What a beautiful flower, she thought. She got up and opened the chest, and placed the Culver's Key inside the book, where it would be safe. Then she climbed back into bed, and closed her eyes

Another knock came again at her door.

"Come in," said Dùbhlan sleepily.

Dùbhlan's mother entered.

"What is it Burraidh said to you?" she asked, her tone less angered.

"Well," Dùbhlan began, sitting up as her mother came to the side of her bed, "he asked me to dinner tomorrow. After he asked me about myself, that is."

"Oh, splendid, dear. You are going?"

"Yes."

"And you are pleased with him?"

"Yes," Dùbhlan lied.

"Good. All is well then?"

"Yes," said Dùbhlan for the third time.

"We do want you to be happy, Dùbhlan. And if you are married to a gentleman, you will be--happy."

"Of course," said Dùbhlan, only going along with her mother to please her.

"I think your day has been trying. Go to sleep. Good night."

"G'night," said Dùbhlan, turning over and closing her eyes.