Young Writers Society

Everything was upside down. My head hovered above the floor in my bathroom as I hung from the shower curtain. My long red hair hung miserably to the floor, already redder with the blood that rolled down my naked body. My mother entered wearing a knee length wool skirt and an elegant white blouse.
“There now precious, it won’t be long now. You know your father and I love you very much.” She smiled in pride of her masterpiece and my father entered to hug her around her waist, together they laughed as my father dragged a bucket full of needles from the hallway, and lifted one that looked especially prickly and walked slowly towards me.
“I’m afraid this will hurt.” He said with a smile.

“Aoife! Aoife wake up!” Harry whispered loudly in my ear as he shook my shaking sweaty body. “Aoife are you okay?” My eyes strained against the lamp light in my room. Harry sat on the bed beside me in a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt. I had clearly disturbed his sleep somehow. I shivered.
“Fine.” My voice cracked and I fought back a tear from my eyes which were already full of water.
“No, you’re not. Bad dream?” I merely nodded. He pushed the tangled hair from my face and sighed. “What was it about this time?” I made sure not to meet his eyes. “Aoife?”
“It wasn’t nice,” I said. “There was blood. My blood.”
“Oh Aoife… do you wanna talk about it?” A shake of my head answered him as a small tear ran down my cheek and I had to look away. “Aoife? Aoife, look at me, it’s alright.” He put a hand to my cheek and turned my face to him. I couldn’t fight them back, the tears just slid down my cheeks unendingly and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t compose myself. Harry looked so shocked. I don’t think he had ever actually seen me cry before. Even to him I was icy cold and strong as a rock. Now it seemed that rock was chalk, sometimes it crumbled.
“Aoife… are you scared?” I nodded and shivered. It was as if my whole room had gone cold and there was a sickly smell at the back of my nose, like rotting iron or chocolate that had gone off.
“Harry…” He was attentive. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out. As soon as he saw my hands motion to him he took me in a tight embrace, as I shivered and quivered, weeping like a sniveling child
“It’s alright Aoife, I’ve got you. Shhh… I’ve got you.” His words did nothing to reassure me, but the warmth of his arms and the smell of his living flesh helped mask my fear, and calm it a little. I thought I felt a cold hand on my shoulder and jumped.
“Aoife? Are you okay?”
“I thought… never mind… I just… it doesn’t…” I touched my head, already lining itself with beads of sweat.
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t leave me. Please stay here.”
“I won’t leave, I promise. Aoife what’s wrong?”
“I thought I felt… it doesn’t matter.” My tears had frozen, but my heart had stopped. “It doesn’t matter. Just please, please don’t leave me.”
“I won’t. I promised didn’t I?” I wrapped my arms around his strong waist and took in his scent to mask the dead smell that still hung in the room. I don’t know how long we stayed there like that. We just rocked back and forth in each other’s arms, sometimes a tear would slide down my cheek, other times I’d shiver, or my heart would stop from sudden fear of nothing. Harry began to hum a sad tune, sad yet beautiful and soft in my ear, which steadied me when I started to get really unsettled again. But at some point in the night I fell asleep, and when I woke up Harry sat faithfully on the chair beside my bed, eyes closed arms folded and breathing slow and steady.

I felt utterly embarrassed, yet still a little on edge. I can’t believe I had made him sit there with me, I can’t believe I had let him see me cry! I hadn’t let anyone see my cry since I got here. I hadn’t cried in front of another human being since the year after the killings, in the hospital. But I had learned to control it. This wasn’t like me at all. This was not like me. I never cried, I was strong. I was always brave. He had seen me cry, and not only that he had hugged me and rocked me to sleep in his arms. He knew now I wasn’t as invincible as I seemed to most people. Although I think he thought that anyway, but here was the proof. There was no hiding from Harry anymore.

“Aoife?” Harry groaned as he opened his eyes to find me nervously watching him. “You’re awake. You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry… sorry about last night. Sorry for making you stay here and…”
“Aoife, it’s okay. Don’t apologize, it’s the first emotion other than anger I’ve seen from you since you got here. I’m not sure whether I like this better though.” I was blushing, I knew I was. I begged myself to stop. “Aoife I’ve never seen anyone so afraid. Are you sure you are alright to go to school today? Because if you want you can just spend the day with me eating ice-cream and watching TV, sometimes you just need the day…” Spend a whole day with his interrogations and worries after last night? I don’t think so. I’d rather go to school than be quizzed on my feelings thank you very much, and that was saying something.
“No, Harry I’ll be fine I promise. I better start getting ready; my alarm is due to go off in five minutes anyway.”
“Okay… well I’ll leave you to get ready then.” I opened the curtains as soon as he left. It was silly I know. I haven’t been afraid of the dark since I was 6, but I was still afraid now. Even with light pouring into the room I felt a little… unnerved? When I was showered and dressed in my usual black jeans, white tank and ‘too-big-for-me’ leather jacket, I headed downstairs, where the place was now buzzing with people ready to go to school, cramming as much food in their mouths as possible. I grabbed a bit of toast and a glass of orange juice and ate mine in the kitchen alone, rather than in the dining room with all the mess and the noise.
“Feeling better?” Harry peaked his head around the corner. I gulped.
“Yes, I’m fine now, thanks.” I buried my head in my orange juice. Harry looked guilty for some reason, and he looked as worried as ever. More so, now that he had no better a reply from me than the above. What was I supposed to say?
“Well… I guess I’ll see you when you get home today then. I’ll tell Luke that you’re not feeling great and…”
“No. You’ll tell him no such thing. I’ve told you I’m alright and I mean it.” I slammed my glass into the dishwasher and threw my crusts in the bin before shoving past Harry and heading upstairs to clean my teeth and grab my bag before running down to see Luke. I moved swiftly passed Harry who stood in the open doorway. He had said something; he had that guilty look in his eye again. Of course, he would have done. I simply ignored it, and got into Luke’s car without another word.
“Hey, Aoife, how are you…”
“Just drive Luke, please.” And that was that.

review #4 - team yellow
Hey! It's me again.
I've noticed that I've been a mechanical grammar Nazi in like all the reviews so far, so today I'll focus less on those little, boring details. BUT, again, be careful about commas and run-ons.(Yes, those dreadful things are still important and must be used!)
However, one of the shameful things about novels is that, well, there's not much to feed off in chapters, so I can't really reflect back on things as much.
Anyways, enough with my talks. I'll get right into my notes, all in order:

She smiled in pride of her masterpiece and my father entered to hug her around her waist

Is "masterpiece" Aoife?

... together they laughed as my father dragged a bucket full of needles from the hallway, and lifted one that looked especially prickly and walked slowly towards me.

Needles all look the same, so I wouldn't really describe a needle as "prickly." AHEM, this sentence is a run-on. >.<


- Nice way to start a chapter. Really creepy!

- Why exactly was Harry in the room in the middle of the night with Aoife? >.>

- It's getting a little sappy.
Sappy, as in, I as the reader don't feel any emotional connection between the characters, and I know that's what this chapter is all about. Sorry for that horrible word (I hate it myself), but every writer stumbles upon sappiness sometime in their life. Readers have to be moved in instances like when Aoife, the big tough girl, needed Harry to rock her out of tears to go to sleep. Putting a scene like that out of the blue when there's a still some lack of character and personality is kind of jumping the gun. Perhaps (for future reference) you could put this scene later? Or make chapters longer so we know a bunch about everybody? Just trying to let you know.

It was as if my whole room had gone cold and there was a sickly smell at the back of my nose, like rotting iron or chocolate that had gone off.

Good! Though I wasn't sure what you meant by "gone off."

His words did nothing to reassure me, but the warmth of his arms and the smell of his living flesh helped mask my fear, and calm it a little. I thought I felt a cold hand on my shoulder and jumped.

This is also a good paragraph, but the words underlined are a little fishy. I'd reword it. Also, I think a comma doesn't go there. I'm not entirely sure if it does or doesn't (I'm going by my gut-feeling here), but it looks and sounds right without it.


- To me, it feels as if Aoife is the type of girl who doesn't let other people in, even at her worst moments. So unless it was your intention for Aoife to accept Harry so easily (vice versa), I'd consider to add a bit more resistance and thought into her actions.

My tears had frozen, but my heart had stopped.

I wouldn't really say "frozen." It sounds a little funny to me.


- Good sensory words. I love how you incorporate smells into your work. To me, little details like that make a big difference. Although smell is most important (to me), remember the four other senses: sight, sound, taste, and feel.

- Maybe work on character development? I'm not bashing and saying that you absolutely need it (in fact, it's not necessary because you voice is pretty awesome), but everyone can do better with their characters, and it can only do good. Try reading a character's dialogue out loud. (I'd try Harry.) Does it sound utterly embarrassing and nothing your character would ever say? If so, think. What would you do if you were the character? What would you say?

I haven’t been afraid of the dark since I was 6, but I was still afraid now.

This is an oxymoron - meaning that those two clauses are like completely the opposite. She hasn't been afraid of the dark since she was six...meaning she hasn't, like, at all since grade school. But at the same time, she still is? o.O
Also, if the number is three words or less, always spell it out. So "6" would be "six."

peaked

Misspelling. It should be "peeked."

I buried my head in my orange juice.

Yeah, I'm not exactly sure how you could do that. XD

More so, now that he had no better a reply from me than the above.

I don't know, I stumbled upon this sentence and still can't quite grasp it right. Try rewording what you're trying to say.

I slammed my glass into the dishwasher and threw my crusts in the bin before shoving past Harry and heading upstairs to clean my teeth and grab my bag before running down to see Luke. I moved swiftly passed Harry who stood in the open doorway. He had said something; he had that guilty look in his eye again. Of course, he would have done. I simply ignored it, and got into Luke’s car without another word.

Underlined: run-on. I'll give you a chance to fix it. :)
Red: I'm not sure what you're trying to say here, so again, try rewording it.


I think that's all. :D
This chapter is a little interesting since Aoife's dream involves needle-picking (hmmm, that story sounds interesting!), so bravo on the foreshadowing.
Keep writing!

Hey Mary, Stella here!

I. NITPICKS

“I’m afraid this will hurt.” He said with a smile.

hurt," he said

I fought back a tear from my eyes which were already full of water.

the phrasing here is a little awkward. Change it around a bit?

Now it seemed that rock was chalk, sometimes it crumbled.

Okay, I lovelovelove the imagery here, but I think it needs a better introduction than simply being tacked onto the end of the last paragraph.

like rotting iron or chocolate that had gone off.

Only metal doesn't really... rot. It corrodes- or rusts in the case of iron. Nice image though.

But I had learned to control it.

the 'but' seems redundant.

I grabbed a bit of toast and a glass of orange juice and ate mine in the kitchen alone,

I think 'my breakfast' would flow better than 'mine' here, but up to you.

II. MORNING ROUTINES

Now I like this. I like the dream- flashback, I'm assuming? And I love seeing Aoife's reaction afterwards- what I love even more is how you point out, through Harry, that things are changing. It's subtle and skillful and I'm tipping my hat to you.

One thing I would have an issue with is the 'morning-after' sequence. As nice as this is, it doesn't need a whole chapter to itself. Getting up, getting dressed, eating breakfast, we do them all every day ourselves and we don't need to read about it in books as well. A lot of authors do this, but I'm sure no one enjoys reading it and more to the point I'm not sure you enjoy writing it either. Skip all the routine. Put her in the car or in the next important place she needs to be and let her muse on the more important parts of the morning- her conversations with Harry. The way it is, it's just a little mundane and it's really not helping your plot along.

III. OVERALL

As I say, I love the first part of this chapter! I really really do! It's the second half I'm a little more concerned about, I'm not sure if it's serving the purpose that it should be serving. Third chapter in you should be a little more focused on the plot- on telling the story that you came here to tell. I want to see a trigger pretty soon...

Otherwise, I still adore your voice and I hope you keep writing this story because you're doing a fantastic job

Hope I helped, drop me a note if you need anything!

-Stella x