Young Writers Society

Nine:
MaryBelle:

November 16, 1700,
Two days after my captivity. I heard them talking outside my prison cell: “is the boat ready yet?” “it’ll be ready in less than a week”
Then they walked away from my door.
Boat? This is quite perplexing.
-Bella

November 23, 1700,
Their moving me tomorrow. I heard them talking before they brought in my breakfast. Where are they moving me?
-Bella

Early the next morning, the man in black entered and yanked me up from my bed by the hair. “Get up” he snarled, throwing me from him and leaving the room. I yawned; and went to the shelf by the door, dressing in the wool dress that sat there. The day I came, they had issued me two dresses, one cotton and one wool, both in a dull navy color. A woman entered this time: her face dirty, her gown tattered. She carried a brown paper package, dropping on the floor she turned without a word locking the door behind her. I picked the parcel up, unwrapping it slowly. A dull brown cloak, a navy mobcap, a blanket of rough lamb’s wool and a green/black plaid shawl. I wrapped the shawl around me, tying it round my shoulders; the cloak went on next, the rough ribbon tied beneath my chin.
The mobcap I pinned to my head with the pins that held my plait, lastly I wrapped the blanket round my shoulders over top of the cape, warmth being all I could hope for.
~
They blindfolded me, pushing me out of my room, out into the snow. Hours later, after traveling in a coach we boarded a ship. The swaying reminded me of that I felt the first time I awoke under their care. Could I have been on a ship, then off, then on again? they threw me into another cell, smelling like the first “dinner will be served at 6 o’clock,” said the man in black (the only one who ever spoke to me) and the door slammed shut behind him.


Ten:
AnnaLea:

Cold morning winds blew, my hair tossed like a kite on the beach. Madelia and I went in search of food, shivering as the cold drove through us like nails being driven into a piece of wood. All berries were frozen over, though we picked them anyway. When we returned to the cave, we were soaked to the skin from a combination of snow and rain. “there’s nothing for it” Peter said when we arrived, trembling and wet. “I’ll have to go in search of meat or something” Madelia and I exchanged looks, “and I suppose you can do better?” she snapped throwing down the package of frozen berries and herbs. “Yes” he replied stoutly, wrapping himself in a makeshift coat made of a blanket. “Well good luck” I said, removing my soaking cloak from my shoulder and laying it beside the fire to dry.
“Thank you” he picked up a burlap sack, and walking out into the snow.
~
Madelia and I sat up waiting for him, we kept the berry stew warm (very delicious this time) and even heated the frozen bread from one of the burlap rucksacks for as Madelia said, “He’ll be hungry”
He did not come, and he did not come.
Around three in the morning (according to Peter’s watch, which hung from a rock) I feel asleep. Around four Madelia did. When we woke at seven the berry stew, kept warm all night was scorched at the bottom and the bread burned, and Peter was not back.
Madelia and I tried to keep busy, though Madelia’s eyes seemed to stay red. At Lunchtime (one o’ clock), we scraped the last of the scorched berry stew into the coconut shells, cut the last slice of burned bread, and handed it to the children, who ate eagerly. After the noonday meal, we tried to wash our mud-caked clothes, and keep the children busy. Often when either Madelia or I heard a noise outside of the cave, we would rush to the opening and look out, thinking we had heard Peter come home.


~
“Maddi we have to leave!” I exclaimed as we sat: side by side after breakfast; washing dishes. “NO!” she shouted, standing up and putting the shells we used as bowls on the rock shelf “YES!” it’s freezing and we need to go someplace more hidden” she turned to me, her hand flying up to retie her hair. “we can retreat father into the cave” “we tried that, It didn’t work” “it will this time!” her voice cracked and she fell to the sandy ground tears rolling down her face. “He might come back” “it’s been two days,” a new voice said. Madelia sat up and I turned around: Robert the third oldest emerged from the corner where the children lay in a dirty heap. “See! Even Robert knows we need to leave!” I said taking the willow bough broom and brushing it lightly over the sand. Robert frowned at me, and continued, “We need to find the natives” he urged “NO WAY!” Madelia bellowed “the natives?” I inquired, “Our mother is native to Sholamain Island” Robert explained turning to me“oh... and they would help you?” “Perhaps” “that seems iffy” “it’s the best chance we’ve got” he shot back, picking up the canteen and drinking from it. “we leave tomorrow” he announced and turned away from Madelia and I to lie back down in the pile of children in the corner. “Well! That’s that I guess” I pulled out the knapsacks “we better get packing then” Madelia did not move. “Come on Maddi! We have to pack” she ignored me and sat there, by the fire looking straight ahead for the rest of the day.

Back for the last two.

Part nine:
I can't find much to comment on the style of part nine, but there seems to be one issue popping up. Facts.
If you were to kidnap someone, would you let them keep their posessions? Never underestimate the idea that the person you're kidnapping might have a weapon concealed in that innocent little diary - and you can't write a diary entry if you don't have a diary.

Part ten:
Because of the edit feature on yws I can't skim up to find exact examples, so forgive me if this is a little vague.

It must be said...
What happened to that last part of chapter ten? No line breaks? No new paragraphs? You may have guessed how picky I am at visual presentation, and it looks like that last part has just been added on without being formatted, so you need to fix that.

The tribe
I like this little tribe/family setup that AnnaLea has found herself in. It's an easy frame for the characters to fit into, and so in some ways it helps to define them - which is a very good way of keeping control of this new group of characters you have dropped in.

Berries and Herbs
A positive and negetive. The berries are good, I like that added little detail that they return with frozen berries, it creates a better picture. However, if it's so could outside, that would mean it's winter, so would herbs still be growing? Herbs aren't the hardiest of plants, you're more likely to find nuts and maybe edible leaves.

He did not come, and he did not come.
This sounds odd, mainly because you've placed identical phrases in the same sentence. In some cases this might work, but it's an awkward little technique to get the hang of, so I'd suggest leaving it out.

Tick, tick, tock.
A bunch of children trying to survive out in a jungle, I can't imagine them being overly keen on regular time. Since it's winter, and daylight hours are different, a watch might be of help but they're more likely to work their routine around the hours of daylight and warmth, rather than the regular hours we're accustomed to.


Right, so far;
I'm not sure how much of this you have written, but if you spend a little longer on each part then you should be able to get each to an adequet length. That's my biggest advice. Even if some parts aren't very good, you've got more to play around with.

For a solid target - aim for at least 400 words per scene, and at least 700 between switching view points.

The story is developing really well, I can't wait to see what happens to these characters. Keep it up, and good luck with the rest of the novel

Let me know when you post the next part too!