Young Writers Society

I’m back in the car, onyx wheel in front of me. A girl is sitting next to me; I know her. My sister, Tiffany.
“Oz, where’s Beta?” she whines. I look out at the road for... something. All I’m remembering is a metallic sheen, but red...
“Bloody Greensnakes. Never trust anything made in France.” Another girl, in the back, rolls her eyes. She’s important, that I know.
And then Tiff shouts, “Here they come!”
“Get out, get out, get OUT!” This is me. I can see the car racing toward us. Tiffany and the important girl unbuckle immediately. There’s two others, other passengers.
“Oh my God!” I scream, desperately turning the wheel.
Then the crunch.


“Earth to Oscar? Hello?” the girl snaps. I blink. I’m in a small room, the light flickering and dim.
“Where are we?” I ask.
She smirks. “This is an elevator. They carry people up and down floors in a building,” she says, her voice thick with sarcasm. I give her a glare.
Numbers at the top flicker and change. Seven, eight, nine...
“Of course, the Doctor ought to get this place renovated. That air freshener just makes me gag. This stupid elevator stinks.”
A pause. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen...
“Daddy says that I’m getting a special present.”
Pause.
“I know it’ll be a pet.” Pause. “Fine, be that way, you cretin.”
Ping. The doors slide open. I step out gingerly, while she strides ahead.

The Doctor’s office is a blank, cool grey place. It feels desolate, a lifeless place.
“Welcome. Sit down.” His voice is pleasant, but, while his mouth smiles, his bright blue eyes look as dead and soulless as this room.
“I hope you’re coping.”
“Yes. I am.”
“It must be very hard for you, the crash, and of course, the memory loss.”
“Yes. It is.”
A decided sigh of irritation from next to me.
“I see you’ve met Jay.”
Jay? From what I know, Jay should be, well, a guy’s name.
But her eyes are narrowing, just sending the message: If you make fun of me, I will tear your head off and then rip your guts like paper.
“Jay is, well, an abbreviation for Jean Annette Yvonne. Her mother, Yvonne, gave her the names of her sister, and, well, when she died, her father gave her the Yvonne," the Doctor explains.
“Hello? She is sitting right here.”
“But anyway, Oscar, I think I ought to tell you more about what your donation involves, as you have the rights to know, due to the amnesia.
“MechaNet is a robotics company. About five years ago, we decided to start experimenting on enhancing humans with cybernetics. There were originally three willing specimens. All but one died, mostly due to malfunctions in their limbs.
“But we decided to carry on, regardless. So, a month ago, when a willing donor was involved in a car crash, we decided to use that body for our new, corrected model.
“To be blunt, you are a cyborg.”
That hits me. I can only understand half of what’s being said, but I understand cyborg.
“I’m half-robotic?”
“You surprise me, Oscar. Your memory must be coming back. Although,” here, he gave a chuckle without a hint of humour in it, “not too much, I hope.”

Jay and I walked out together.
“The Doctor’s creepy. He’s hands on with his staff members, all right, but he’s just so...” Jay waves her hands as if trying to snatch a word out of the air. “Not to say he isn’t a genius. He just has this aura of... intelligence.”
I’m not talking. I’m brooding.
“He asked me questions when I was in recovery.”
“Of course he did, you ignorant little snot. Who else would?”
Then she takes a sharp intake of breath.
“Daddy!” she squeals, running to a man holding the leash of a pretty yellow dog. I should have guessed.
They have the same soft black hair, the same gray eyes (although hers are lighter, shinier silver). But to be completely honest, he looks normal. She looks too... superficially beautiful, like she was made from an assembly line.
“Oh my god, he’s so cute!” she giggles, running her hand through his ears.
“He’s two years old, and he’s... well, cybernetic. He’s trained to respond to your voice.”
“Awesome!” she enthuses, fondling the ears now. “I’ll name him... name him...” She looks up at me, silver eyes mining into mine.
“Shrike. I’ll name him Shrike.”


I was walking out to my room, when I felt a jolt, a shudder that reminded me of one other thing.
The noise smashes through the walls, which crumple down into rubble.
Then the voices.
“Come on! Rags, Ark, you cover the rear. Cooper, Babs, with me.”
Footsteps. I raise my hands defensively.
A man with a rifle steps out of the jagged hole in the wall, full of caution. I dart to him, gripping the barrel, twisting it up. A sharp crack from his wrist, as he gasps in pain. I grab his shoulders, and throw him to the other side of the corridor.
A second, this one a girl, runs out, and shouts, “No! Don’t kill us! We’re here to help.” I let her rush to her companion. Deal with her later.
The next one begins to walk out; I'm ready for her. But, as the girl steps into the light, she looks familiar. She has sharp cheekbones, eyes wide and brown, her blonde hair tied into a short ponytail. She too is holding a gun, a pistol, pointed between my eyes.
“Oz, come with us, and don’t be a moron.”
Tiffany?

---------------------------------------------------
Who expected that? Please tell me. Also, do you think that its too short, that Jay's too nice, or that I need more description?
So, yah, that's all. Sorry.

Hi, hero!
Well I thought it was good! I know how nerve racking waiting for someone to review your story is, So I understand how you feel. Don't dump this story, it's not bad at all.
Um, I'm not that good at reviewing other peoples' work yet, but I'll give it a shot.

Unless I'm mistaken you had his name spelled differently. In the first part you had his name "Oscar" in the second part you have "Osker" You should pick one or the other.

I liked the start, it was good, it began in the middle of the action and grabbed the reader's attention.
About the expectancy part; I wasn't expecting him to be a cyborg. I had an idea that maybe he was like a secret agent.

The plot; You should get into the problem more, I don't know, just make something more exciting happen. What is Oscar/Osker's role? I'm not saying you're not saying what it is, I'm just saying to make it more clear. Know what I'm saying?

The description; yeah, you should add more description, I found it hard to picture some of the scenes because you focused a lot on the dialogue - but that isn't a bad thing! Actually, I found Jay better characterized than your main character. I mean, he was good, his memory loss was pretty realistic, but it wasn't clear on how he felt about it.

Finally; overall the story is well written, it could stand for a little improving, but otherwise it's really good. I liked and I hope you keep writing because you are good, you sound more professional than me!

“Oz, come with us, and don’t be a moron.”

So much better than "Come with us if you want to live"

“But we decided to carry on, regardless. So, a month ago, when a willing donor was involved in a car crash, we decided to use that body for our new, corrected model.

“To be blunt, you are a cyborg.”

This bit is a little confusing, it seems to suggest that its all one person speaking, but the new paragraph suggests another speaker. Especially since the second para is enclosed in its own quotation marks.

It was too short.

For me.

The action within it could use a facelift and a bit more detail, I was wondering exactly what was going on.

Everything seems personal, which is good, and the characters all emote in some way that strays from absolute prose and keeps us rooted into this particular universe and it's people.

The dialouge could be improved just a tad.

Work on description, I think a more focussed effort on this aspect would make it more satisfying for length and detail hounds like me.

This idea is very, interesting, and I woud love to see more.

Keep me updated if you feel like you have the time, and if you have any questions feel free to ask me, I'd love to see what you could come up with.

Ex's and Oh's, Eraqio.