As The Clock Strikes Twelve [1]

Chapter One
The Clock Fair


Sheanna let her beautiful, light blue eyes wander around. She tucked her blonde hair out of her face so she could see better; the tips of it was so blonde it looked white, but it got darker near the roots. There was a light fog over the ground, but only because of the cold weather. It bit at her heels, at her face, and she seemed to feel it attack her very clothes to find the one spot where she was warm, the one spot it could make colder.

Very vaguely Sheanna could see a group of white tents ahead. They crowded together, holding on for warmth, and they looked so comfortable and urging that Sheanna wished to run to them.
Beside her Sheanna could hear the adult’s boots click-clop in an even rhythm. It was the only sound there, so it filled the air, and sounded a million times louder than it should. Sheanna felt as if she was the only one who could hear it.

Sheanna’s eyes couldn’t find more people walking towards the tents, but there had been so many cars they had been forced to park what seemed like blocks away from their destination. It was as if the cold weather did this on purpose, just so it would have more of a chance to freeze her until she reached the fair, where the tents would protectively lean over her, and the only time she’d be subject to cold air was when she was sneaking between the tents. Other than that, though, she would be warm once she got to the tents.

The woman beside her quickened her steps as if having the same feeling as Sheanna. The feeling of being out in the cold, all alone, even though the two were together.

Sheanna gazed at the person next to her thoughtfully. She had known her for so many years—ever since she was five—but she still hadn’t quite gotten used to her. She supposed she never would.

I suspect that you thought I was going to tell you this woman was Sheanna’s mother, didn’t you? But no; this woman said she was Sheanna’s mother, but she didn’t believe it.

Sheanna had lost her mother when she was five; her father as well. Orphaned at such a young age, she had stayed with her aunt, who put her up for adoption because she was financially unable to care for her. She had been adopted immediately by a woman who Sheanna called ‘Miss’, since there was nothing else to call her at the time.

Miss told Sheanna that she was her mother, but her personality was so different that Sheanna decided she had only been lying to make Sheanna feel better.

Ten years later, Sheanna still wasn’t sure how she lost her parents. She had a few very uncertain memories of the night she lost them, but upon fitting them together there was no logical explanation to their disappearance.

So Sheanna assumed, with a heavy heart, they had left her. Their reason was inexplicable, and Sheanna had occasionally wracked her brain, trying to think of something she did wrong.

She didn’t think too often about it, though. She was still blessed to live in a beautiful home with a very kind woman who never snapped at her under any circumstance. And other than doing this constantly, her life was pretty pleasant.

She was going to a clock fair. It came once a year on the full moon, and ever since she was five she had been going with Miss. Miss’ slight obsession with clocks took Sheanna by surprise; not only did they go annually to the clock fair, they went to a clock shop every other day. Not only that, but Miss had never bought one clock. Not one. She just gazed longingly at all of them, and walked off when she was done. Sheanna wasn’t sure what the big deal on clocks was, but she remembered even when she was little her parents occasionally took her out to look at clocks. Clocks had always been apart of her life, though she wouldn’t know how important they were in her life until today . . .

Lost in her own thoughts, Sheanna hadn’t noticed Miss had walked ahead of her. Miss didn’t know how long her legs were, and usually forgot someone was following her if she was anxious to get to her destination.

Sheanna opened her mouth to speak, but before she could the cold air rushed in, happy to inhabit another place of Sheanna’s body. When Sheanna finally did speak, her voice was hoarse and soft from the cold air.

“M-Miss?” she called. “M-miss, c-can you g-go any s-slower?”

Miss stopped for only a second or two, but it was long enough for Sheanna to catch up with her.
Then it was silent again except for the click-clopping of Miss’ boots. Sheanna knew it would be this silent even in the tents; the only sound there would be were the clocks ticking and occasionally a costumer whispering a deal to the owner of the tent they were in.
When Sheanna couldn’t stand the silence any longer, she broke it. “Do you think that that clock you’re looking for will be there?” It seemed easier to speak, as if her mouth had been anxiously awaiting for her to break the silence.
“I hope so,” was all Miss answered, in a voice that said she really didn’t want to talk.
But Sheanna spoke again, “Have you ever found anything close to this special clock of yours?”
“Yes.” Miss answered much too fast.
“Then why haven’t you bought it?” Sheanna couldn’t hold in her reply if she wanted to. Even though she was not the chatty type, she was positive her mouth would freeze if she didn’t use it often enough. It was still a mystery to her that Miss’ mouth hadn’t frozen solid yet.
Miss shook her head stiffly, as if even though her mouth wasn’t frozen her neck might be. “It’s not the same. It has to be the exact clock I’m looking for.”
“Why?” Sheanna had often held in her curiosity, but that took strength that she didn’t summon at the moment.
Miss sighed and took her gloved hands out of her pockets to look at them. The gloves stretched so tightly over her longer fingers, but Miss refused to wear any other pair. She tugged at one of the fingers on her glove and her hand came out. Her hand looked so cold and alone, and Miss quickly shoved the glove back on. Sheanna noticed her quick steps had died down when they started talking.
Finally Miss returned her gloves back to her pockets and looked ahead at the tents which were so close ahead. She usually tried not to make eye contact with Sheanna.
“Because if it’s not the right clock it won’t work the way I want it to.”
The comment Miss had replied only left Sheanna’s head full of more questions she didn’t have before the comment, but she didn’t ask them. They walked in silence until they reached the clock fair.
Finally underneath the cover of the large, white tents, Sheanna let out of a breath of relief. The fog had cleared a great deal, and all the cold air and fog refused to go inside the tents, as if too scared to.
Sheanna was just about to walk inside and feel the warm air on her face when her cell phone rang. Groaning, she answered it.
“Hello?”
“Sheanna?”
The voice brought a smile to her face. “Vicky! Victoria!” Her smirk was clear in her voice.
The girl groaned. “Don’t call me Victoria, Sheanna. I should have never told you my real name.”
“I don’t get it,” Sheanna said, shaking her head pitifully. “Victoria is a beautiful name.”
“But I told you when we met when we were ten; my name is Vanessa. Discussion closed.”
Sheanna rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. Anyway, how are you?” She heard a bunch of voices and silverware clanging on the other end of the phone. “Where are you?”
“Just at a banquet,” replied Vanessa.
The pause was threatening.
“A banquet?”
“I meant lunch. Sorry, my friend keeps reading those fantasy books about banquets and what-not; she’s got me speaking in a medieval tongue.”
Those words brought a smile to Sheanna’s face. “Does this friend of yours happen to be named Sheanna?”
Vanessa laughed. “Why, yes. How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess,” replied Sheanna with a playful smile Vanessa could hear. “I just finished Ella Enchanted; really, Vanessa, you should read the book, it’s great!”
“Nah,” said Vanessa, trying hard to sound casual. “I’m not really interested in those kinds of books.”
Sheanna shrugged even though Vanessa couldn’t see it, letting the subject fall.
“Er, Princess?” It wasn’t Vanessa’s voice that spoke, but the voice certainly came from Vanessa’s end of the phone.
“Did someone just call you princess?” Sheanna was shocked.
“Yes, that was, um, my Mom. Gotta go—bye She-She!” And she hung up, leaving Sheanna with nothing but a dial tone.
Sheanna looked at the phone, astonished, and then slowly hung up as well. Then she stuck her hands and cell phone into her jacket pocket, and took a glance inside the first clock tent on her left. She loved how the clocks were different every year, but the owners remained the same.
The owner of the first shop was Jordan, an elderly man whose head was bald except for the hair creeping around the sides of his head. He was very skilled at his trade, and most of the clocks he made, but there were a few antiques that he had purchased. Sheanna noticed that Miss had always been particularly attracted in those he bought.
There were already about seven or eight people in the smallish tent. Sheanna checked the clock on her cell phone and saw that the clock fair officially started at five o’clock, three minutes away. But obviously no one really minded to open their shops early.
Sheanna wove her way through the people and the shelves with the clocks on them till she came to the back where Jordan sat. He sat at a medium sized white table with knives and wood shavings on it. He was actually bent over the table with one of his large knives, carving a little bear out of the wood.
“Mr. Jordan?” Sheanna made sure to speak softly and slowly, as not to alarm him and ruin his work.
He, however, didn’t have the same virtues. He looked up, dropped his work, jumped out of his lawn chair, and immediately announced in a loud, cheery voice, “Sheanna, my dear, what a surprise!”
Nearly everyone in the room jumped at the sudden noise; there was also a sound of something breaking just a few shelves away.
Jordan looked as if he were going to hug Sheanna, but immediately pulled away to poke his head around the corner to see what broke, and strode over to a man who was so white with fear that it looked as if he were a ghost.
Jordan approached the clock, bent down, and looked at it. After a while of examining it he said in a loud voice, “Well, you’re a lucky one! You only broke the glass on the clock’s face, and that can be easily replaced. But next time, read the sign!” He stood so he could tap the sign hanging from one of the poles on the top of the tent; Please ask for assistance before handling; and picked up the clock to take it back to the table for repairs.
“Mr. Jordan, your voice,” whispered Sheanna as he put the clock on his table and went to grab his dust pan and broom, which he always kept conveniently stashed under the table.
“What about my voice?” His voice was still loud, still echoed through the quiet room, and the costumers still jumped at it.
“Mr. Jordan, your voice is loud.” Sheanna took the dust pan for him and bent down to hold it next to the broken glass.
“Oh, thank you, dear.” Jordan lowered his voice and swept the broken glass into the pan. Sheanna took that he was thanking her for both the voice reminder and holding the dustpan for him, and nodded.
Sheanna stood and took the dustpan out to the alleyway to dump its contents in the garbage can standing alone in the alleyway, frost forming on its sides. It was much colder in the alleyway than in the dimly lighted, crowded, yet welcoming tents.
As if her cell phone could only work outside of the tents, she received a text message.
hi! it read. its tessa from geometry class. van gave me ur number. i was wondering if u wanted 2 hang out 2day.
Sheanna let herself moan. It was bad enough she had to avoid Tessa in school; now she knew her cell phone number, too?
It wasn’t as if Tessa was a bad person. She was just not the type of girl Sheanna wanted to be hanging around. But Tessa was oddly persistent; always trying to arrange a time for them to hang out. The last time they had actually hung out went horribly in Sheanna’s opinion; Tessa had totally taken advantage of Sheanna so she could use her computer to go on websites she wasn’t allowed to go to at home (and some of them were pretty graphic), and spent the entire time talking about a book series that Sheanna thought had been very boring. Though Tessa had been more eager than ever to have another play date after her first, Sheanna had made a mental note never to invite her over again.
Sheanna slowly replied, Sorry, Tessa. I can’t hang out now; with Miss. I’ll text you when we could hang out later, ‘kay?
Sheanna was just about to go back into the tent when she got Tessa’s reply.
k. bi.
Sheanna rushed inside and went back over to Jordan. She glanced around to make sure Miss was still there, and when she saw her marveling over the handy work of an old antique clock she turned back to the elderly man.
A smile sparkled on her face when she saw she hadn’t missed Jordan repairing the clock. She looked after the costumer who had bought a clock from Jordan, distracting him from fixing his antique, and turned as he sat down to fix it.
She didn’t speak a word, but watched him slowly screw open the metal hoop that had been holding the glass on to the clock. As he did the glass shards that were still clinging on to the hoop fell soundlessly to the table. Then he slowly took his big black messenger bag, took a very small box out of it, and carefully placed it on the table next to the small clock. He took the pieces of spare glass coverings out, unwrapped them from the bubble wrapper they were in, and placed one on the clock’s face. He then slowly screwed the hoop back in place and looked over it to make sure that further damage hadn’t been done.
“There, good as new!” he whispered, taking it over to the shelf it was sitting on and placing it in its place. Sheanna made sure he was out of sight before turning towards one of his shelves. She reached her hand carefully behind the clocks until she felt it. It was a dish of Hershey Kisses that Jordan kept hidden. Sheanna had learned early that he didn’t go anywhere without chocolate, and though she always swore to him she didn’t, she always knew where he hid each piece of chocolate. She took one, only one, and stuck it in her jean’s pocket (for she was sure it would fall out of her coat pocket) before he could notice. Then Sheanna followed him.
“Good thing only the glass broke, too, because this is one of my very favorite clocks,” he said, stroking its wood engravings carefully. “See the forest animals carved on here, as if it could take you to some foreign, magical land?”
Sheanna nodded, and took off the glove on her right hand so she could run her fingers over the wood engravings as well. The clock looked like a little house, and it had an empty platform at the top of it.
It looked vaguely familiar, but with all the clocks she had seen it could have just been in a store or maybe there was one similar to it. And though she wanted to ask him where he had bought it, she asked instead, “Why are the corners of the roof scorched?”
“Ah, yes,” he said, touching a corner carefully as if he might break it, “It was like that when I bought it. The owner said that it had been in a fire. He got it nearly ten years ago in some burned down house . . . well, the ruins of the house. I almost didn’t believe it, because wouldn’t it of been burned along with the house? Anyway, he said he looked for the owners of the burned house but couldn’t find them. Bit odd, isn’t it, that he held on to it for only ten years? It’s said that a clock lasts someone a life time! But he says it brings back luck, so. . . ” Jordan shrugged lifelessly.
“And you still bought it from him?” Sheanna pulled her fingers from the clock away immediately as if it might take her fingers from her. But it was almost hard to tear her fingers away from the clock, as if the clock wanted her to stay.
Jordan laughed a loud, air filling laugh. “I don’t believe in luck, good or bad! Didn’t you once say you didn’t either?”
“Yes,” muttered Sheanna, but she still looked at the clock reproachfully.
“Then what’s there to worry about? Anyway, it’s a very fine looking clock, except for the doors. The doors are useless.” Jordan ran his fingers over the two doors slightly below the roof of the clock, standing side by side, with their little handles placed perfectly as if someone should open it. “I wanted to dispose of them all together, but I was scared I’d ruin the amazing masterpiece the carver captured in this clock.”
Sheanna gave him a flabbergasted look. “You mean it isn’t a cuckoo clock?”
“No.” Jordan opened the doors to show her nothing, nothing but an empty little room. “See?”
Sheanna almost didn’t believe her eyes, so she placed her fingers in the little cubby. And it was empty, for sure.
But it was warm inside the emptiness, much warmer than the room, much warmer than her pocket, much warmer than her glove. Her hand lingered in the cubby for such a long time Mr. Jordan gave her a look, and she pulled it out immediately.
“It’s a very lovely clock,” she admitted softly, slowly closing the doors. But it’s so very familiar, too! she added in her head, running her fingers over the engravings again. It’s like you know me, she thought as if the clock could hear her thoughts, It’s like you remember me just as well as I remember you.
But of course, the clock couldn’t hear her. It was an inanimate object, right? It was just a clock, right? It was just one of those dirty, smelly, wooden clocks that had dust on their shoulders and that she stared at nearly every day hoping it would be the one Miss was looking for, right?
Maybe I saw it in a catalog, she finally thought. Because if the owner so willingly gave it to Mr. Jordan, he must not have owned a store. It doesn’t sound like he knew much about clocks. A clock being bad luck! As if!
But then Sheanna thought of something, and the thought almost alarmed her. Didn’t we have a clock at home, Dad, Mom, and I? Didn’t we have a tall, beautiful clock that we got and nearly immediately Mom and Dad left? I remember how beautiful it was, and that it had a castle on the top, on the platform. . . . Sheanna ran her fingers over the bare platform. No, she immediately thought, forcing her fingers away from the platform and let them rest on the engraving of a deer, this isn’t the same one. The other one was tall, as tall as a grandfather clock; no, it was a grandfather clock!
But she couldn’t help but think that this clock might be the same one as the one her mother and her father had gotten. She pulled her fingers away from it quickly, as if scared that it might scorch her like the fire scorched it.
But the more she looked at it, the more she hesitantly agreed with herself. It was the same clock.
“No!” She thought so hard she began to whisper the words. “No, this is not the same clock! The other one was taller, bolder, and much more fantasy-like. I remember that now. It was different.”
“If you say so,” Jordan said with a wink, whistled softly, and walked off.
Sheanna was taken back by his words, and at first she was scared, but then she just ignored it.
Her mind went back to the clock immediately. The argument raged in her head so fast that soon she couldn’t hear her thoughts anymore, and it was all a blur of angry words that didn’t make sense. But among all the rage in her head there was a tiny clear voice.
Miss is your mother, said the voice hesitantly. She has the same eyes as your mother, doesn’t she? And though she doesn’t share your mother’s pretty name, she might of changed it for some odd reason.
But that didn’t make any sense what-so-ever to Sheanna. If Miss really was her mother, why would she change her name to a different name? That didn’t really help prove her theory.
And then the rage in her head changed from clocks to Miss. But that same little annoying voice still whispered, clear as a bell, Miss is your mother. She has the same eyes as your mother, doesn’t she?
When Sheanna couldn’t take the war going on in her head anymore she let out a soft cry of agitation and stomped over to where Miss was. Sheanna’s heart fell when she saw Miss was studying the ninth clock in a store that had maybe fifty clocks.
“Miss,” she said urgently, “I’m not feeling well. Can I go home?”
Immediately Miss turned to her with a concerned expression. “Dear, you’re pale,” she said in her soft voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just really want to go home,” Sheanna said evasively. She leaned her head on Miss’ shoulder.
“She found your clock, Mary.” Jordan’s voice came from his desk, nearly a pace away from where the two were standing.
“I beg your pardon, Jordan?” asked Miss, wrapping her hand around Sheanna’s head and pulling her closer.
Jordan shook his head, smiling. He was repairing a clock for a worried looking costumer. He had turned it face down and was working in the gears. Apparently something was lodged in them that the owner couldn’t get out.
“May I just show one of my valued costumers a clock real quick? I assure you, the state of your clock will not change in the three minutes I’m gone,” Jordan said, adding the last part at the costumer’s worried look.
“Yes, sure, go ahead,” muttered the woman, glancing at her clock that was still broken as if only her glance would cure it and tapping her foot impatiently. “Not like I’m in a hurry or anything.”
The woman spoke so sarcastically that Sheanna drew even closer to Miss indistinctively.
But Jordan ignored the woman’s sarcasm. He only gave her a grateful smile, stood, and led Sheanna and Miss past the woman and towards the clock.
Jordan led them through the shelves skillfully. It seemed a very long time until they reached the clock Sheanna had been marveling over.
“Here it is,” Jordan showed them the clock, and then both he and Sheanna looked at Miss’ face to see her reaction, even though neither of them really knew what expression they were looking for on her face.
Immediately Miss pulled away from Sheanna and looked at the clock her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions; fear, joy, and surprise.
She pulled out her hands and hurriedly pulled her gloves off to touch it; something she never had done. Sheanna really did think it was odd of her to leave her tight black gloves on when she touched a clock, but she had never said anything.
Miss had almost as much trouble getting the tight gloves off as getting them on, but she shoved them off so impatiently that Sheanna wouldn’t be surprised if they ripped. But they didn’t.
Miss threw her gloves fiercely at Sheanna and immediately with both hands began to touch the clock; to stroke the clock.
Sheanna’s eyes widened at her reaction. It is the clock, she thought, and then added, Well, it might be the clock Miss was looking for, but is it the clock I thought it was too? But, of course, she didn’t ask her question aloud.
“How much?” Miss asked impatiently and so hurriedly her words seemed to jumble together. Her voice sounded so much different than usual! “How much for the clock?” She seemed to forget the entire reason she had come to see the clock in the first place, but Sheanna didn’t say anything because she had never thought she’d hear Miss say those words.
“Hm,” Jordan said, “I’m going to have to think on that.” But even Sheanna could tell he was being sarcastic and was only pretending to think. “I’m going to price it at forty-five dollars, just because of the rarity of this piece.” Sheanna’s eyes grew wide. She couldn’t believe how outrageously low the price was; she had never seen anything in the store under sixty dollars, and it was very evident that Jordan was reluctant to sell that clock.
Miss searched for her wallet and groaned as if that would make her find it faster. When she finally found it she pulled it out, flipped it open, and impatiently gave Jordan two twenties and a ten.
“Keep the change.” Her voice shook as she spoke, and she went to pick the clock up.
“Why thank you, Mary! Let me go get the box and bubble wrap to wrap it in,” replied Jordan brightly, but as he turned to go Miss nearly shouted, “No!”
He turned slowly and gave her a weird look.
“No, don’t go through the trouble.” Miss’ tongue struggled to find the right words. “Don’t you need to tend to that person waiting so very patiently at your desk?”
She nodded her head towards the woman, whose foot was tapping rapidly now and she seemed to just be staring at her wristwatch.
Jordan stared at her for a long time, then just shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said softly, and walked back over to the clock and the impatient woman.
Miss took the clock from the shelf and turned so quickly she almost fell and began to walk out of the tent at her quick pace, and again Sheanna struggled to keep up. “Miss, can we go home now?” she asked as they rambled into the silent alleyway. “Please?”
“Of course.” Miss’ voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the note of happiness in it. “We’ll go home, and you’ll never have to look at another clock again. How does that sound?”
Sheanna nodded, yawned, and simply ignored the text message she got from Tessa. Miss had finally found the clock. The days of searching were over!
But wouldn’t she miss it? Wouldn’t she miss searching for clocks all the time, looking in catalogs? It was sort of her hobby since she didn’t have any time for anything else. Or would she not miss it at all, because now she had time to do what she actually wanted to do? Or was this what she wanted to do all along, she just didn’t realize it until now?
Sheanna’s head was buzzing, making her dizzy, so terribly dizzy. And though she didn’t think she could with all the thoughts bouncing in her head, sleep took hold of her, and she slept the rest of the way home.

Word Count: 5,093.



Let's get to it, shall we?

So, first of all, there are a couple of typos: I think you wrote nowhere as no where once when it's one word, and then everyday should be two words, every day. I won't go through and pick them out (unless you want me to? Just holler) but I think you should go through this with a fine-toothed comb and weed 'em out. Wait, did I just mix metaphors?

Technicality over. Moving on.

This was probably on purpose, but the beginning, where Sheanna's talking about her mother, was fairly confusing. And it should be less so, because, while you want to keep me guessing, it shouldn't be to the point where I have absolutely no idea what's going on. What I'd do is introduce the setting a bit more first - the clock fair - and then slowly drop in bits about her mother, or Miss, and so then I'm more intrigued than downright confused.

Also, until you said she was fifteen - which was fairly late in the story, I think - I was thinking of Sheanna as a little girl, 7 or 8 maybe. Probably because of the gloves and the trying to catch up to Miss? I dunno, I just got that image and then was confused when she got the text from Tessa. Perhaps you could also throw in a few clues to her age earlier, like have her worried about her mascara, or something. *shrug* Maybe I'm just slow.

I absolutely love Jordan and, really, the whole clock part. It was a relief when I got there, almost, because finally I was coming out of the fog of confusion surrounding her mother and into something a bit more real, if that makes sense. You know, I finally got a sense of where she was and could picture it and stuff. This is why I suggest introducing the setting earlier, so I have a clear picture in my head before delving into Sheanna's head.

And then this:

Many of the costumers jumped, and there was even the sound of something breaking just around the corner.

See, this seems a little bit too sudden and vague. Many of the customers jumped? I don't think that really adds anything; if anything, it clutters up the sentence. I think you'd do better to describe the sound and how Sheanna reacted. But that's just my opinion.

Also:

he must not of owned a store.

That should be he must not HAVE owned a store, dear. ^__^

The ending makes me want to poke you with a stick until you post the next part. Please do soon.

So, that was my rather lengthy and hopefully understandable criticism? I'm not sure I've told you enough how much I loved this though: a lot. You obviously have some wonderful ideas and this seemed very well-thought out and again, I loved the end. So, to sum up the review:
Give us more setting earlier so we're not lost in the haze of Sheanna's thoughts so early. It's a little overwhelming.
Read this over and over and over and possibly out loud so you can hear how it sounds and what works and what doesn't as there are some typos and there are also some parts that sound stiff/awkward, which can detract from the most wonderful plot.
And post chapter two. Soon. Poke.


-Mars

Hey Quill! Welcome to YWS! June here!

So, hopefully I'll be the first to review this, but who knows. I'm racing Mars in this review, so, yeah, fun!

Let's have some critique-y stabs at this.

Sheanna slowly took her gloved hands out of the pockets of her long, brown, sweep the floor coat. She pulled at one of the fingers on her pink knitted gloves. She took it off, first looking at the glove, then at her fingers. They looked so cold without a glove to protect them, so alone.

So, like, this paragraph is a little loose-wordy for an opening paragraph, dear, so, I would like, recommend tying some of this together. The description about the coat is a bit long, so I would recommend chopping that, and returning to describe more of the coat later. It kind of seems repetitive to have "glove" repeated so much here.

So! Solution? Chop some of this, perhaps to:

Sheanna slowly took her gloved hands out of the pockets of her long, brown coat. She pulled at the finger of one pink-knitted glove, taking it off and looking at it, then examining her fingers. They looked so cold without a glove to protect them, so alone.

Or something like that. I'm really bad at describing what I mean sometimes, especially now, so, basically, you could return to her coat later, possibly saying "her coat swept the ground as she walked."

her own sweep the floor coat

So this "sweep the floor" appears again! I think that you need hyphens to connect this term, dear. Possibly to be "sweep-the-floor" so that we understand that it is one term; a big compound word.

Miss sighed and took her gloved hands out of her pockets to look at them. They stretched so tightly over her longer fingers, but Miss refused to wear any other pair. Sheanna noticed her quick steps had died down when they started talking.

Clarify what you mean here by "They", dear.

Sheanna weaved her way through the people and the shelves with the clocks on them till she came to the back where Jordan sat. He sat at a medium sized white table with knives and wood shavings on it.

Weaved there should be wove, dear.

He was actually bent over the table with one of his large knives, craving a little bear out of the wood.

craving should be carving.

* - *

So, wow.

That was impressive, Quill. I have to say, the start was a bit rocky, as far as wording and such. It kind of seemed like we needed to know that information, but the way to get it out was the tricky part. I felt that there could have been a smoother way to describing it but you got your point across well, and that is what matters.

I would just say to keep an eye on repetition. Sometimes it becomes tedious to read the same word over and over. Grab a thesaurus, those things are awesome.

Later on, things become smoother as we get to the clock fair. At first, I wondered if this was set in an older time, but as the story progressed, it was easy to see that it isn't.

I think you did a wonderful job here. I'm really eager to read more, Quill. Keep up the brilliant work! And welcome to YWS.

Juniper

Heya! OK I noticed some typos but nothing that the people who revised you before me didn't cover. So, I agree that the mother thing was pretty confusing. But it's a great story line. Another thing is that i got really confused on the time period. Because of the obsession with gloves, forty something dollars is considered a lot, maids are waiting on you. But then there's texts geometry. What?

Also I got a little board. Try to speed things up and add some extra 'umpf'

.:EDITED SUNDAY, MAY 17TH, 2009 AT 8:50 PM:.

Back as requested. ^^

the tips of it was so blonde it looked white

Should be were so blond, as tips is plural. I think you could also cut out the of it since it's clear what you're talking about.

Ooh, I love the edits to the beginning; it's so much easier to get invested in the part where I'm introduced to Miss now, because I know more about the main character and the setting. Good job. Especially:

Beside her Sheanna could hear the adult’s boots click-clop in an even rhythm. It was the only sound there, so it filled the air, and sounded a million times louder than it should.

Lovely.

I suspect that you thought I was going to tell you this woman was Sheanna’s mother, didn’t you?

I'm not sure I like the sudden move into first and second person here (the I and the you). It takes me out of the story, like, 'wait, who's I?' and then moves right back into third person. Also, the readers might not necessarily believe that it's her mother. It could be her aunt, cousin, grandmother...so assuming it like this seems a bit odd.

by a woman who Sheanna called ‘Miss’, since there was nothing else

Should be 'Miss,' with the comma inside the quotes.
Also, if you want to be really grammatically correct, it should be whom. (I'm such a geek. )

I also very much like how you explained her parents' disappearance or death or whatever. It clears up a lot of questions that I had, but it also remains hazy enough so there's still some mystery, some intrigue.

Clocks had always been apart of her life,

A part - two words.

“Nah,” said Vanessa, trying hard to sound casual.

Since this is from Sheanna's point of view, it's weird that you drop in that Van's trying to sound casual; Sheanna wouldn't know that. Unless of course you said that Vanessa sounded like she was trying hard to sound casual, because that Sheanna would know. =/

That said, now that Vanessa has had an actual part in the story, she's a lot more...ingrained in my head, and I'll remember her, which is good.

Sheanna made sure to speak softly and slowly, so as not to alarm him and ruin his work.

the sign hanging from one of the poles on the top of the tent; Please ask for assistance before handling; and picked up the clock

I think the italicised portion should be separated by dashes, rather than semicolons.

and the costumers still jumped at it.

Lol, costumers, like people who make costumes? I think you mean customers? xD

A smile sparkled on her face

I love the use of 'sparkled' here.

But he says it brings back luck, so. . . ” Jordan shrugged lifelessly.

Er...bad luck?
Also, I don't like 'lifelessly' here as that implies more sadness and melancholy rather than indifference; what about nonchalantly? Or something...

she slept the rest of the way home.

Didn't catch this last time, but didn't they walk to the clock fair? Which would imply that they walked back, which makes her sleepwalking...so perhaps you could insert 'she slept in the taxi on the way home' or something, so I don't think she's sleepwalking.

Good edits, Aushy. It was nice to have everything more clearly explained, and there's definitely still enough to keep readers for the second chapter.
-Mars

Hello,

I’ll be generally avoiding line by line quotes, but probably from time to time I’ll pop something in.



Introduction.

Not very breathtaking, not very captivating. The semicolon in the very first paragraph scratched at my eyes – an unnecessary semicolon, and between a physical description, too! No! Or, yes, yes, but again – not very interesting as far as this reader is concerned.

Characterization will be dealt with later, but for now, for the beginning, I don’t particularly care whose hair is what, really. This is the introduction, the very paragraph which should draw prospective readers in, and it’s not working not really. Physical description and weather, really! (and yes, I do like the word).

And I’m apparently not too good at subtle allusions, because I don’t get that last sentence, I just don’t.


Quote:
Sheanna’s eyes couldn’t find more people walking towards the tents,
Awkward phrasing (“Sheanna’s eyes), consider rephrasing.


Direct

Quote:
I suspect that you thought I was going to tell you this woman was Sheanna’s mother, didn’t you?
No, please, no. Although I might warn you at the start that I suppose it’s personal preference, the disliking of putting “you” in a story. Me, I just hate it. For one thing, there is no reason at all that would merit its appearance. It’s awkward while reading and ugly.


Back story

Woe is me, I am an orphan and I do not know how my parents died. Fine, fine, with the right – oh, I don’t know, touch, method, you name it – you can make it truly unique. But not by neatly laying out the facts before anything at all happens in the story!

It a) disturbs the pacing, b) is boring because I don’t particularly care for the character.

Covering “a”: Nothing has really happened yet, but we have paragraphs of her past thrown at us. I guess this could go up to the introductory, but never mind that. See, you’re giving us back story, preparing us – but we don’t know what we’re being prepared for, and we’re bored by it. Or I am, a bit, y’know? I mean, nothing wrong with it itself, it’s lovely. But, really.

B) the woe is me part. Woe be you, Sheanna, fine, but only because we’ve been told about the parents? Or no, maybe it does work, because I’m exaggerating and don’t like the dump, but it’s a chunk of history fluttering about in midair.


Clock concept

Me likes. Which is good, as the story seems to resolve around clocks, no? I especially liked the part of Miss gazing at the clocks, and then her telling Sheanna that it has to be the exact one.


Quote:
The comment Miss had replied only left Sheanna’s head
Keep “comment” as you need it for later, but awkward phrasing; consider rephrasing.



Telephone conversation

Quote:
Sorry, my friend keeps reading those fantasy books about banquets and what-not; she’s got me speaking in a medieval tongue.”
Semicolon in dialogue?

Quote:
“I just finished Ella Enchanted; really, Vanessa, you should read the book, it’s great!”
Oh dear.

Quote:
The pause was threatening.
Humoristic touches are appreciated.

Quote:
The voice brought a smile to her face.
Yes, and then down below we have an exact repetition of the phrase.

I don’t see the point in this conversation. Semicolons in speech irritate me, since we’re not speaking Wuthering Heights kinda novels. That, and then Vanessa called without any apparent purpose – which people do, yes, but do those fascinating conversations have to be recorded for the reader?

Or no, I did gather a few facts from the conversation, yes, but that does not change the fact that it seems forced. Made to happen, solely for convenience? Vicky – Venssa, ha – is a princess and Sheanna doesn’t know. A bit – blunt, really.

Quote:
“Nah,” said Vanessa, trying hard to sound casual.
To the last comment: “blunt”. Or, rather, narrative problems, as up to this point, we’ve been siding with Sheanna, so it’s a third person but leaning toward Sheanna narrative. And then suddenly we know that Vanessa is tryung to be casual. From that we could insinuate that Sheanna knows, too, because what the narrator and the reader know, Sheanna knows, too (again, up to this point). And after this part, we reverse to Scenario A.

Down to earth kind of girl, Sheanna horribly fast turns to her surroundings after conversation.



Quote:
“Mr. Jordan?” Sheanna made sure to speak softly and slowly, as not to alarm him and ruin his work.
He, however, didn’t have the same virtues. He looked up, dropped his work, jumped out of his lawn chair, and immediately announced in a loud, cheery voice,
Nice bit of work, I like the character relations.


Semicolons

I’ve decided to make a separate section for those here. See, they really irritate me and seem out of place. Eyre, Bronte style this is not – and again, out of place. I am not in anyway implying that only there are semicolons any good – of course not! But in a two sentence paragraph, they just don’t look to good. Rather sting the eyes.

That, ans sometimes there are just too many of them. Tessa section? Three almost in a row. And no, no, no – one does not use semicolon in a text message! One does not!

The dot/comma is exactly what it appears to be – a hybrid of a period and comma. Separates two parts of a sentence, most usually that would be run on without it. And yes, you have them inserted correctly but for one instance:

Quote:
He stood so he could tap the sign hanging from one of the poles on the top of the tent; Please ask for assistance before handling; and picked up the clock to take it back to the table for repairs.
Bad usage of semicolons.

Quote:
Immediately Miss pulled away from Sheanna and looked at the clock her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions; fear, joy, and surprise.
Although of course there are times when semicolons come in handy.


Quote:
“What about my voice?” His voice was still loud,
His voice, his voice. Substitute with a pronoun, or rephrase? In the tag. Eveyrwhere else it looks fine.

Nitpicky mood, perhaps, but now I see a third reference to welcoming/positively described tents.

Quote:“Ah, yes,” he said, touching a corner carefully as if he might break it, “It was like that when I bought it.
Consider comma after tag – period?


Quote:
It was an inanimate object, right? It was just a clock, right? It was just one of those dirty, smelly, wooden clocks that had dust on their shoulders and that she stared at nearly every day hoping it would be the one Miss was looking for, right?
“Right?” is ugly.


Quote:
“No, don’t go through the trouble.” Miss’ tongue struggled to find the right words
Miss’s.

Quote:
“We’ll go home, and you’ll never have to look at another clock again. How does that sound?”
Very nice bit of dialogue.



Ending notes. I heavily disliked (most of) the semicolons. The back story and then her friend’s call and even the texting features as unnecessary baggage, something to skip over. On the other hand, the piece, which was quite long, was marvelously written – it (I am sorry for the somehow cliché compliment, but it’s fully deserved) flowed smoothly. I was not once lost. If anything, it pushed me forward, which is always nice. The descriptions and, because of that, setting is very vivid – sense of place is terrific. The “clock” idea was incorporated in a very terrific manner, the shroud of mystery surrounding it believable.

All comments were made because the piece is good enough to have them made. In other words, if I felt the writing was not able to sustain me expressing my loathing of badly used semicolons, I would have remained silent. But you’re an extremely good writer, no?

Feel free to PM me for anything at all.


Esme

Sense I did offer to review all of these Aushy, I’m going to do it. But they are a bit long, and most of the problems have been spotted by others, so for simplicities sake, I’m going to just touch on the basics, listed below, in bold…deal? You wouldn’t just want me repeat the same things, over and over again, would you?

Dialogue

When Sheanna couldn’t stand the silence any longer, she broke it. “Do you think that that clock you’re looking for will be there?” It seemed easier to speak, as if her mouth had been anxiously awaiting for her to break the silence.
“I hope so,” was all Miss answered, in a voice that said she really didn’t want to talk.
But Sheanna spoke again, “Have you ever found anything close to this special clock of yours?”
“Yes.” Miss answered much too fast.
“Then why haven’t you bought it?” Sheanna couldn’t hold in her reply if she wanted to. Even though she was not the chatty type, she was positive her mouth would freeze if she didn’t use it often enough. It was still a mystery to her that Miss’ mouth hadn’t frozen solid yet.
Miss shook her head stiffly, as if even though her mouth wasn’t frozen her neck might be. “It’s not the same. It has to be the exact clock I’m looking for.”
“Why?” Sheanna had often held in her curiosity, but that took strength that she didn’t summon at the moment.

So, all of this is a wonderful example of dialogue for one particular reason…do you want me to tell you why? Oh, well I’m not sure if I should…but I suppose I shall for you. It’s the fact that the speakers are feeding off one another…the way people do when they talk to each other. Not only that, but it carries on the plot. Dialogue should further you’re story.
One particular section of dialogue in the story (the phone call with her friend Vanessa/Vicky) bothered me. I don’t really see what this does for your story. It reveals a bit about the main character and her friend, but that’s it really, and most of this is information that could be given away at a different point in the story.

Plot

So I’m going to be blunt, the plot needs some work for one main reason…it needs something to make it special. We’ve all heard about the poor orphan who misses her family and has only fragments of memories about them (Annie anyone). Now I’m not saying this is bad, but you need to really impress us, give us a reason to want to follow this particular orphan.
Another thing to watch for is the fact that, well, your plot is rather confusing when you bring in things about Sheanna’s parents and such. Make sure that when you write it, memories are separate from the present and that the two plot lines here (the one in the present and the one from the past) stay consistent and that the facts stay the same. A good idea is to perhaps form timelines…one for the present (the path that the written story is telling) along with a timeline to talk about Sheanna’s past.

Characters

Sheanna
Okay, so I have to be a little mean here too. Sheanna is supposed to be your main character, but well, she isn’t all that impressive. For one, well, the way you open the story is a bit of a turn off. When you open with Sheanna, you make her sound almost haughty and arrogant.

Sheanna let her beautiful, light blue eyes wander around. She tucked her blonde hair out of her face so she could see better; the tips of it was so blonde it looked white, but it got darker near the roots. There was a light fog over the ground, but only because of the cold weather. It bit at her heels, at her face, and she seemed to feel it attack her very clothes to find the one spot where she was warm, the one spot it could make colder.

For one thing, beautiful are a definite ‘no-no’ when a character is talking about themselves. Were somebody to ask you ‘What color are your eyes?’ would you say ‘beautiful, light blue’ or just ‘light blue’? Just watch out on making your characters seem like giant criticism-targets. Obviously, you want your readers to sympathize with your character, right, so think about things from their side. When you read over your story, think about it from the reader’s perspective and wonder what you would think were you reading this.

Miss
I actually really like Miss. There is something very interesting about her. Which is another thing I wanted to bring up? Your secondary characters, like Miss, almost outshine Sheanna. Miss is, at least in my interesting, a far more unique and eccentric character then Sheanna and can therefore become more of the star of the story then your MC.

Jordan
This again I’m going to bring up what I said about Miss. Jordan seems like a far more…relatable character then Sheanna and therefore becomes more interesting to the reader as gaining far more sympathy from the audience.

Vanessa/Vicky
So, I have a problem with this particular character…at least right now. Too be honest, I don’t think that we really need to know about her or Tessa for that matter until a different point in the story. Your throwing a lot at the readers all at once and its quite a bit at once. Stick to the characters that matter the most. When Vanessa and Tessa are important and needed, then introduce them.

Style
I actually like your style throughout the story. The only real issue I feel you have is that you forget to re-read your stuff. Remember to really thoroughly go over what you’ve written before posting it. That way there are fewer mistakes to point out and more good bits to compliment. I always recommend going through and reading it out loud to hear the mistakes. Our ears will often pick up on flaws better than our eyes.

Overall, I’m actually glad I decided to read this. It’s long, and I would recommend dividing your chapters into parts. It is easier to read in smaller portions along with the fact that when people review things, they often find more errors that could be corrected in smaller sections then when they are looking at such a big image.

On to chapter 2. *runs to the ReviewMobile*

~lilymoore

Hey Aushy ^^ Since I'm avoiding writing the rest of my epilogue due to my back of inspiration, and I'm avoiding watching TV with my little sister because she's watching Hannah Montana and I'm protesting against her new disturbing wig that brain-washes little girls, I'm going to review Fantasy Fiction! Woot! I don't usually do this because I go for poetry because they're shorter xD I might end up doing a nit-pick if I figure out the secret codes you use around here @_@

[quote=]Sheanna let her beautiful, light blue eyes wander around. She tucked her blonde hair out of her face so she could see better; the tips of it was so blonde it looked white, but it got darker near the roots.[/quote]
Uh-oh. Problem numero uno! This is the very first chapter, yes? Well it's very important to start it off with a hooker beginning, and you start off with the classic Mary-Sue beginning. While it's not "once upon a time", it's still one of the wrong ways to start a good book. Consider a W.A.D.I.W.I. beginning. Where, Action, Dialogue, Introduce a character, When, or Interesting Comment. I'm not so sure if I got the W's correct since I learned this acronym in 8th grade, but I still know the jist of it. The way you start your chapter off is by "telling" about your character, noting her "beautiful, light blue eyes". Remember to show and not tell.
Rather than saying "the pizza was delicious" describe the components that make the pizza delicious. "A waft of steam arose from the dish, making my mouth water. An array of multi-colored toppings spread the pizza like on a heat map." Yeah, not a very good example, but you get the picture.
"She tucked her blonde hair out of her face so she could see better; the tips of it was so blonde it looked white, but it got darker near the roots."
@_@ What a long sentence. First of all, you can't really tuck your hair out of your face. You can tuck hair behind your hear, or remove a hair from your face, but not anything in between. Also, the semi-colon should be made a period because you have a comma in the second part of that sentence.

"The tips of it were so blonde" "Tips" is plural and "it" is singular. It should be "The tips of them were so blonde". I suggest rather than just stating her roots were darker, you say something like
"The tips of her hair were so blonde that they were almost blinding, yet the opposite ends were dark in contrast." Yet again, not a great example, but you get the point.

There was a light fog over the ground, but only because of the cold weather. It bit at her heels, at her face, and she seemed to feel it attack her very clothes to find the one spot where she was warm, the one spot it could make colder.

I think if there's a light fog the reader would be able to assume it was cold. You'd only describe the reason for the fog if it were there because of a magical force or if it didn't go with the season. Like if there were a light fog and it was summer time, but it was only there because it was cold during the night time. And rather than saying "it bit at her heels, try "the night" or "the fog" to be more specific.
"and she seemed to feel it attack her very clothes to find the one spot where she was warm, the one spot it could make colder." This part is a bit confusing, but of course, you should be able to assume the cold would attack the spots where a person is warm and of course freezing a warm spot would make a person colder. The good point about this is that the way you describe the light fog attacking at her skin is good imagery ^^

Overall: I had to skim through the rest since I have to eat dinner xD But I think you have a good idea here, you just need to express it correctly. I'm more than sure that you have a movie going on in your head, the only problem is the transfer of your thoughts onto the page. Of course, this is only a draft to get your ideas down, but there's always room for improvement, yes? ^^ It's always good to get the facts straight and learn from your past mistakes so you won't make them in your future writing.

I think what you were trying to do was capture an action moment in your novel. This would've went well of you didn't start off describing Sheanna. I think your beginning should start off describing the night, which means everything from the fog that bit at her heels, the night sky, the stars, the tens, and what was going on. Occasionally mention that Sheanna tucked back her long blonde hair or pulled at her dark roots and little bits like that. Try to incorporate the "telling" with the actions that are going on to make them more exciting and quicker.

That's all I have for now! Good luck and keep writing ;P

-Shina