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FREAK



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Sat Feb 27, 2010 1:04 am
Lauren2010 says...



I read it all! And really enjoyed it. A secret between you and me, I've heard so much about this around the site (on your blog particularly) and have been itching to get a good look at some of it! So you've made me quite happy! :D

Anyways, on the topic of chapter one. I liked it, but did feel it was underdeveloped. I would kind of like to know more about where the freak lives. It seems like a horrific sort of place and readers always sort of like reading more about those sort of things in a sick sort of way. It sort of connects the reader to whoever is going through this horrific life, and could give a bit more starting insight into the freak. But that's just an idea.

Looking forward to seeing more of this! And to someday seeing it all in print! :)

Keep working on this!

-Lauren-
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Sun Feb 28, 2010 1:41 am
Snoink says...



Nutty>> Thanks for your comments! You're right about chapter 1... I've been struggling with it since I wrote it several years ago and I'm probably going to get rid of it and put something more "wow" up. It is the least exciting chapter of FREAK, unfortunately. Interesting, but that's about it.

On chapter 2... what a wonderful idea! I had never considered the car thing. I've been tweaking some of the scenes in that chapter already, so I'll see what I can do with making that more of a novelty. :)

As far as chapter 3 goes... FREAK is designed to be rather detached, especially at the beginning, but I think you're referring to a particular part that I've been struggling with. I'll tweak that up and see if that makes it any better. Thank you so much!

lava>> Will do! :D

Pretty>> Eek, sorry about your dinner! Soggy macaroni is always an awful thing! And yeah, the more comments I get, the more I realized how frustrated people are with the mirror scene and how they aren't able to really picture her at all. I think I am going to remove it and put something else in favor of something else that will probably show a more complete picture of who she is. :)

Emma>> Teehee, thanks! :D As mentioned above, that part's definitely going to be tweaked, so hopefully it'll turn out much better. ;)

Stori>> Thanks, I am glad! :D And you're not the first one who got confused with the "Sadie" thing, though it's wonderful that you noticed that rather subtle detail! It's actually a nickname for Sarah. And yeah. You probably guessed this, but names are a kind of big thing in here. So the freak is not allowed a name (though she gets a couple from several people), the gentleman is never explicitly named, and even Sarah's name isn't really Sarah. It's kind of confusing... but I'm glad you noticed the beginning of the madness! Very perceptive! :D

asxz>> Thanks for your honesty! And also thanks for the compliment that you wouldn't buy the book... that makes me happy for its potential of being published if you already consider it to be a book! :D Chapters 1 and 2 are DEFINITELY going to be revamped, thanks to all of your lovely comments. As far as its emotional content, it is rather detached, especially at the beginning, so maybe that's just the style. However, you asked some really excellent questions (such as "...but doesn't she feel for her rights? Doesn't she think that it's unfair?") so hopefully I can tweak it so that it makes a little more sense. :)

Lauren>> Haha, we'll see what happens when I actually don't talk about the starting place then. ^_^ Maybe less is more in this case?
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D





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Sun Feb 28, 2010 10:28 am
Kibble says...



I read to the end. It's really, really good. I didn't quite understand what was happening in the final part though; I had to reread some sentences a few times. I'm not sure if I'm just tired, or it could be the wide screen (and resulting long, widely spaced lines) making me skip things, but maybe it could be clarified a bit?

I'm being really picky now: The bit where she was waiting for the car seemed slightly too dragged on. Your description is good enough to convey the feeling of time passing; it doesn't need so much support from phrases like "an hour passed" (a couple would still be good, but your description is mostly enough). The descriptions are good, although since there are so many scenes with the plot of poor-character-sees-rich-mansion-for-first-time, it could help to introduce a more original twist on this part.

All in all, fantastic opening chapters! The atmosphere of this world is quite intriguing.
"You are altogether a human being, Jane? You are certain of that?"
"I conscientiously believe so, Mr Rochester."
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Sun Feb 28, 2010 11:13 am
Jenthura says...



Someone mentioned her appearance, and you replied back, asking for clarification on what we wanted to be described. I’ve compiled a list of your descriptions of the freak to help you recognize your mistakes.

She could see herself: a yellow blur with red and purple streaks striped across her body. Her eyes were two tiny brown blobs. This it the main description of her appearance, and it tells me the colour of her eyes and that she is striped. I’m not very sure if by ‘yellow blur’ you meant her skin colour.

Her mouth was indistinguishable. Indistinguishable? Like, small? Or was it because the mirror was bad?

By the time Elsa was done with all the scrubbing and shaving and bandaging, the freak’s fingers felt like pale yellow raisins. Once more you mention yellow, and I now firmly believe it is her skin colour

After a couple of minutes of struggling, she found a lovely yellow dress that smelled like soap and a little green hat with a faded pink flower on top. This is main description of her clothing, at least after the second change

The freak nodded, curtseyed, and rushed after Sarah, her pretty yellow dress swishing at her heels. From this I learn that the dress if heel-length

So, we know she has yellow, striped skin; brown eyes; an indistinguishable mouth and that she wears a yellow dress and a green hat. Not enough at all.
I wanna know what her skin really is like. Human? Is it smooth? Does it glow in the dark? Does it repel water? Does she eat what humans eat?
I wanna know what her eyes are like. You mentioned pupil, and that they were brown, but I need more. Are they white around the edges like a human’s eyes? Does she have eyebrows?
I wanna know more about her personality. Why does she obey without question? Did her old mistress beat her? Are other freaks like her, or is she unique?
So far, you’ve done a really great job, keep writing.

Oh, and, I found a few other problems. You write ‘freak’ too much. You could use the pronoun ‘she’, or find it a name pretty soon. Take a look at these sentences.

The freak sat down. The headmistress grabbed the freak's hair. “Stay still.” She yanked the freak’s hair back and snipped it off. The freak remained motionless. Once there was a pile of hair on the floor, the headmistress stopped and glanced at the freak.


‘The freak’ is used five times.

Why does the ‘gentleman’ go pick up the freak if he was such a busy man? I assume he’s a busy man because he didn’t even take the time to check out the freak first.

The driver was already walking away and the two of them were left alone together.

Why did the driver leave? I would expect him to have driven the car to the house, waited while the passengers exited the car and then to have driven the car to the garage.

Also, Elsa says:

“Kerosene, isn’t it? What a stupid woman your owner was.”


How does she know that the freak’s previous owner was a woman?

“For what?” When the freak hesitated, he shook his head. “I would have waited.” With that, he pushed the door open. “Welcome home, Freak.”


Home? Welcome? Not the king of things you’d say to a slave after buying it. The guy isn’t treating her like a slave (picking her up personally, expressing that he would have waited for her) and yet he is still disgusted by her in other parts of the story, tells Elsa that she is not to be called by a name and tells his daughter to shoot her. This ‘gentleman’ has a very disjointed character, and one that I suggest you work on.

That’s all I have for now.
Jenth

EDIT: I read all the way to the end. :)
-ж-Ж-ж-





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Sun Feb 28, 2010 8:41 pm
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chinchillagirl_34 says...



I loved this I read through the whole thing! :D

I like the Dad and Sarah their hilarious!

My favorite part is when she point the gun too his head and he laughs!
"Why don't we let Peeta claim it, since he died today?"-Finnick (Catching Fire)

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Sun Feb 28, 2010 10:00 pm
TheLonleyJester says...



I loved it! I read the entire thing and loved every second of it. I just really would like greater detail of the freak. If you ever get this published please send me an email or something because I would love to buy it. I don't usually like science fiction but this was great.





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Sun Feb 28, 2010 11:31 pm
Snoink says...



Kibble>> Thanks for confirming my suspicions. It is a little long, isn't it? :) I'm definitely going to tweak that part, especially as I rewrite the beginning of chapter 2.

Jenthura>> Yep. I am definitely taking out Chapter 1. XD I am probably going to end up removing a lot of description about her appearance just because the confusion that is inherent with many of these comments. Apparently, when people think of yellow skin, they don't think of kidney malfunction due to malnutrition... lol!

chinchilla>> Eek! Fuzzy rodents! Your avvie is awesome! :D And yeah... I kind of adore their relationship, especially in the beginning. She is so self-righteous and he just doesn't care... it's a great combination! :D

Jester>> Thanks a bunch! :D Also, welcome to YWS! I hope you really enjoy your stay here. :)
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D





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Wed Mar 03, 2010 1:03 pm
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Rosendorn says...



Hmkay. Wasn't going to comment on this, but figured even comments from somebody who doesn't like sci-fi would help. :P

I attempted to read this twice. Did not finish either time. Here are my comments on both reads:

First- (and I just read your comments before and realized this one's pretty invalid, but for future note) I stopped at "her mouth was indistinguishable." As soon as I read that, I groaned, mentally if not physically. You have named her the freak. This has already established your MC as an outcast, and not subtly at that. What went through my head when I read "her mouth..." on its own was, "Oh no! Not only is she an outcast but she doesn't have a voice, either! And this must be extra important, because it's its own paragraph! [followed by] Why the heck should I even care about her then? I know she's going to be put down a lot and she'll either find her voice somehow [probably a cliched way] OR she never will and I'll be stuck reading about a passive MC who'll always be stepped on."

And I clicked away.

What brought me back was the praise I've heard from other people about this. Comments I randomly read were mostly praise, not to mention the comments outside this thread, so I figured I'd give it another shot.

Second read: I got to the sandpaper part and paused, but I was mildly curious so I kept reading (in the hopes of being able to get to something kinda good). I then made it to where she gets picked up and plonks herself down beside her new owner and notices he's ugly, but he might have been handsome once.

One word for everything I'd read: Melodrama.

It feels like you're making this story overly depressing for the sake of making us sympathize with the freak. The headmistress treats her horribly and calls everything about her hideous! Her owner is ugly and curt! He's not using pretty colours! Even the streets around are horribly ugly and there's screaming coming from the houses!

Isn't she used to this stuff? She lives around it constantly, after all. She shouldn't really be commenting on how bad something is if she knows nothing else. Where do these dreams of pretty and wonderful things even come from, anyway? Sure sounds like she hasn't had access to anything that would make her think about pretty stuff.

I feel you're subtly trying to shove a nice message in our face about not letting people walk all over you. And that you're trying way too hard to pull at our heartstrings.

~Rosey

(And yes, I realize a lot of the same comments could be made about the posted draft of Cat Steps you couldn't get through. >_>)
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Wed Mar 03, 2010 7:02 pm
Snoink says...



Rosey>> I don't understand your comment. Where specifically does she mention how bad everything is? The overall tone of the narrative is dark, I'll admit, and the description of the setting is, by necessity, rather grungy, but I don't think the freak really gives any commentary about it. Otherwise the major complaint wouldn't be that it was so emotionally detached.

The dreams of pretty wonderful things are centered around colors, mostly. She can still see and she loves colors. Also, in a grungy city environment, the apartments look like sunken faces (at least in my experience) so I was trying to capture that feeling by personifying the buildings as "ugly." Mind you, the freak doesn't actually mind this--she lives with the ugly and neglected and she herself thinks she's ugly and neglected, so it's not an insult in her mind. It's just the way things are.

The people jumping from building to building "just to say hello" is acknowledging her intuitive understanding that just because the buildings are ugly doesn't mean that fantastic things aren't possible. The buildings might be stoic and unmoving, but their insides are whizzing around with motion and clamoring to get out.

She can't express any of this explicitly... she has not been trained to think these things through and come up with the appropriate descriptions for it. However, she does have an active imagination which longs for color and the fantastic, and her hard life has taught her to see things in a colorful, fantastic way. Otherwise, she would have been dead long ago. You cannot live in this kind of environment for long without some sort of hope.
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D





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Wed Mar 03, 2010 11:48 pm
Rosendorn says...



The comments for how bad everything is mostly come from the headmistress' dialogue. It came off as too angry to be believable, for me. She felt like a bit character, where her only purpose is to say that things are hideous. That tone bled into the rest of the work.

However, I still disliked how "her mouth was indistinguishable" was on its own line. As I said, that read to me rather clearly that she doesn't have a voice. She's a social outcast, and after the comments about how older freaks are never sold, the references to slavery felt thick. She's treated as sub-human, yes, and that's just fine to have in a character (I have one myself). But that blunt line of saying her mouth was indistinguishable set off connections I may or may not should have made. To me that line meant she was gagged, unable to do anything, and the plot would stall under the weight of an MC who's not interacting with the story and conflict. That could also be where I got the "poor me" tone; I have an association between people without a voice and people who don't actually go anywhere in their lives.

Also, keep in mind I'm used to close third person or first person. I found the beginning more on the close third side, so "her mouth was indistinguishable" sounded like an angsty wordplay about how she doesn't have a voice, and therefore, no life (long story behind that one). That tone then bled into the rest of your work.

Another thing about chapter one was how choppy everything felt. The shot sentences felt repetitive and left me wanting a bit more from the prose. It was all simple ideas and simple sentences. This made the tone feel darker and a bit more... curt than it probably was. I just found the prose to be too choppy for me to get into it.

Now that I understand the colours a bit more, I can see the connection. I actually think my dislike of that section came from the word "ugly" about the car when it shows up. It's like using "beautiful" alone when describing something: the word is too vague to really create an image. To me, this made the freak look like she was a bit stuck up in that she'd write something off so quickly. I don't really get an image from "a black sedan," and we don't know the freak well enough to follow her train of thought and know what would be "ugly" for her. Again, probably a shortcoming of mine, but if somebody doesn't know the lines of a sedan then they probably wouldn't see that image as well. The description began to feel vague, and despite having gotten into the work a bit I lost the image with the description of the car.

Does that make a bit more sense? Sorry for the tone before, it was 7:30 am when I did that review and I had to get to class when I finished.
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Thu Mar 04, 2010 1:32 am
Snoink says...



A little bit more so! Though that chapter will be cut out, so yay! It's more prologue-ish than anything, really.
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D





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Thu Mar 04, 2010 2:29 pm
skutter11 says...



WOW
"Madness rides the Star wind"

HP Lovecraft. Ironic, no?





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Thu Mar 04, 2010 6:20 pm
Rosendorn says...



Snoink wrote:A little bit more so! Though that chapter will be cut out, so yay! It's more prologue-ish than anything, really.


Like I said, it was for future note.
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo

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Thu Apr 15, 2010 7:47 am
Snoink says...



Old version:

Spoiler! :
Chapter 1

She had been sold?
Over and over again, the freak repeated this to herself, still unwilling to believe it. Nobody wanted an older freak, nobody. They wanted the younger ones who they could train until they got too old and were sent away. She had worked with these younger freaks for as long as she could remember – it was the one reason why she hadn’t been sent away. But now she was sold. A man had called and offered money to buy the oldest freak there. The money had been transferred that morning and she would be picked up in an hour.
And she still couldn’t believe it.
She grabbed her necklace and looked to the mirror. She wasn’t supposed to. It was illegal for freaks to be this close to one. But the headmistress had forgotten about it long ago, and besides, it wasn’t a very good mirror anyway. It had lost most of its silver lining so that shapes and details were impossible to make out. All that remained were colors. The room was white—everything was white, but if she squinted, she could see herself: a yellow blur with red and purple streaks striped across her body. Her eyes were two tiny brown blobs.
Her mouth was indistinguishable.
The freak glanced nervously at the door. The headmistress had promised to be back soon, but that had been fifteen minutes ago and she still hadn’t returned. From the room, she could hear the headmistress yelling at the little ones in the kitchen. They had tried to steal some food, but the headmistress had caught them. They would be sent away.
The freak shifted her weight and twirled the necklace around her fingers, fingering the silver dog tag that hung on the chain. On one side in worn letters was the word “FREAK” and on the other side was a blur of numbers. She smiled at the dog tag and flipped in over with her fingers until she got bored with that. Once more, she stepped to the mirror. She smiled and watched her fingers dance along her reflected face.
The house turned quiet. Her hands shot to her sides and she turned to the door. A minute later, the headmistress clambered up the stairs and into the room, holding a tin of kerosene and scissors. She frowned at the freak. The freak stared.
“Sit.”
The freak sat down. The headmistress grabbed the freak's hair. “Stay still.” She yanked the freak’s hair back and snipped it off. The freak remained motionless. Once there was a pile of hair on the floor, the headmistress stopped and glanced at the freak.
“You’re hideous.”
The freak said nothing, but her lips trembled and she put one hand through her hair.
The headmistress frowned. “Stop that.” She took the kerosene tin out. “Close your eyes.” The freak shut her eyes, just as kerosene began to trickle down her hair and face. The headmistress clicked her tongue twice before scrubbing the kerosene into her hair. “That should kill them.” She tied on a dirty handkerchief and looked at the freak critically.
The freak stared back.
“You mustn’t do that with your new master, you mustn’t stare at him,” the headmistress said. “He will not be used to it. He will send you away if you don’t please him, you know that.”
At those words, the freak’s pupils widened. She opened her mouth to say something.
“Exactly,” the headmistress continued. “You don’t want that to happen, do you? You don’t want to be sent away? You know it’s worse than death?”
The freak shut her mouth and nodded.
“Good. I got something for you.” The headmistress grabbed a small bundle the freak hadn’t noticed before and tossed it to her. “It’s a dress,” she said.
The freak picked it up. The dress was an ugly gray, but the weave was sturdy and she guessed that it wouldn’t tear easily. She flicked a nit off.
“Well? Put it on.”
The freak nodded and quickly pulled it over her head. She turned back to the headmistress and curtseyed.
The woman frowned. “Hideous, but at least somewhat feminine. Somewhat.”
The freak curtseyed again, sneaking a glance at the mirror, while the headmistress stared. “If he should see you like this, he will demand his money back,” she said. “He will say you are not worth the money and you will be dead.”
The freak turned, alarmed. She opened her mouth and closed it.
The headmistress looked thoughtful. “I have an idea,” she said, walking out of the room. A minute later, she came back with a sheet of brown paper. The freak cocked her head.
“Sandpaper. Stay still.” The headmistress grabbed the freak’s chin and scrubbed her cheeks. The freak cried out and tried to wriggle away, but the headmistress just held her tighter.
Finally she stopped and let go. The freak was shaking. Her cheeks were raw and they stung horribly, but at least they were redder. The headmistress nodded. “You look all right now—shut up.” The freak quieted.
The headmistress frowned. “Now, listen, you should not tell him anything that went on here. A politician like him should not be trusted—you know that.” The freak nodded. The headmistress’s frown deepened.
“He wants you to serve his daughter. You are to appear amiable, friendly, and, to all accounts, obedient, do you hear? You are to treat her kindly. Do you understand?”
A strange look came into the freak’s eyes. She nodded. The headmistress squinted at her. “He is giving a lot of money to us, you know, we mustn’t disappoint him.” The freak’s eyes went big and her hand flinched, but she said nothing and looked to the floor.
The headmistress turned to the clock and frowned. “He will be here any minute. He does not want to wait inside so you will meet him outside. You have two minutes to be outside.”
The freak nodded numbly.
“Get out.”
She nodded again and staggered down the stairs.
It was quiet.
She made sure to walk as slowly as she could. The rooms were white—everything was white. Even the vinyl floor, torn beyond repair, was white underneath all the grime. When she passed the bedrooms, she hoped the other freaks would come to see her for the last time, but it was quiet and no one came. She guessed the headmistress had put them down.
When she came to the front door, the freak stopped, her legs growing heavy. She turned back at the headmistress.
The headmistress frowned and opened the door.
“Get out,” she said. The freak took one small step forward. “Get. Out.” The headmistress grabbed her arm and threw her outside.
The door slammed shut.

*

Chapter 2

The freak landed on the stairs. It took her thirty seconds to catch her breath and another minute before she finally moved. She winced and sat up, blinking away tears.
Behind her was the house, a peeling, two-story monster that she had lived in for all her life, surrounded by rusty barbwire fence. The freak stood up slowly and limped to the gate, which was cracked opened. Beyond the fence there was a row rundown apartments. Sometimes she could hear screaming coming from the buildings, but now it was quiet.
She paused as she neared the gate. She wasn’t worried about anyone coming inside; nobody would come into a place with so many freaks. But freaks were never allowed to go anywhere beyond. She looked through the chain link fence and shivered. It was empty aside from the trash that walked the streets. As she watched, an old newspaper charged down. The freak glanced up at the apartments across from her. They were ugly buildings with peeling white paint, crammed so close together that she wondered if the people there leapt through each others’ windows, just to say hello. She turned back to the newspaper.
It landed in the gutter.
She frowned and tiptoed outside, searching for any cars that might be her new master’s. The headmistress had forgotten to ask what it looked like, but that was all right. Since he was rich, the freak guessed he had a lovely car that was a light blue, streaked with green and maybe, if he were really rich, with pink as well. After all, those were pretty colors and if he were rich, why wouldn’t he buy pretty things?
There were no cars in sight, not even ugly ones. The freak put her back to the fence, holding the chain links in one hand and her dog tag in the other. Her eyes drifted to the sky. It was gray, but every minute or so, the factories nearby would groan and a burst of orange flame would shoot up.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and there was still no car. The freak shivered and clutched her dog tag harder still, wondering whether her new master was coming at all. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t show up. He had already arranged the payment to arrive today, so the headmistress would be happy with whatever happened, unless he returned her. But if he didn’t come, the freak knew that the headmistress wouldn’t keep her. Instead, she would be sent away…
An hour passed and the freak became even more anxious. She tried to stay still, pressing herself deeper into the fence, but her eyes kept glancing at the buildings that surrounded her. If other people saw her outside—well, they wouldn’t like that at all.
It was thirty minutes later when a black sedan drove up and stopped in front of her. At first, the freak thought it was a mistake. The car was much too ugly for to be his, she knew that. She shied away, her grip on the fence becoming tighter. Then, after a minute, she stepped up uncertainly and waved her dog tag to the purple-tinted window.
The car door opened.
The air that came from inside was cold and as soon as it touched her skin, goose bumps erupted all over her arms. She backed away, hoping to get away from the cold when she saw a man inside, blinking out at the sun. When he saw her necklace, he frowned. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”
The freak curtseyed. “Please sir, are you my new master, sir?” Her voice was barely a squeak.
This question seemed to irritate him. “Of course I am. If I wasn’t, why would I pick you up?” The freak’s eyes widened and she nodded quickly.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sit down.” He gestured to some rags beside him.
The freak’s face turned white. She glanced at the rags, layered neatly on each other, and then at the man, an arm’s length away from the rags, his face unreadable. “There?” she asked. She felt dizzy.
“Would you rather be tied to the roof?” When the freak squeaked and jumped back, he shook his head and pointed to the rags once more. “Sit down.”
She sat.
“Very good.” The man signaled the driver and leaned back, frowning.
It was quiet.
The freak was terrified. Freaks were never supposed to be this close to normal people. At first, she curled into a little ball, hoping he wouldn’t notice her, but as time passed without a word, she peered out, first at his gleaming black shoes and then, finally, to his face.
His face shocked her. It wasn’t that he was unattractive—his suit hung on him pleasantly enough. But his face! When he was younger, it might have been handsome, but now his jaw was drawn tight and his skin looked so old and yellow that she thought it might peel off at any moment. And his eyes looked so tired.
She wanted to say something nice to him, but she wasn’t sure what, so she looked out the window instead. Everything was purple and distorted through the tinted glass and the urban buildings had become purple monsters with gleaming glass teeth. She leaned over and let her breath fog up the window.
“What are you doing?”
The freak jumped and shrunk back into her seat at his voice. “Nothing, sir.” He frowned and turned away.
She didn’t dare move.
The farther they drove, the more upset the gentleman appeared to be and the more he openly stared at her. Finally, he turned to the freak.
“And what is that smell?”
The freak was surprised. “Sir?”
“That smell. It’s coming from you.” The freak was too shocked to say anything. She sunk into her seat. “It’s kerosene, isn’t it?” His voice was getting shriller and he sounded more upset. “Why would anybody put kerosene on a freak?”
The freak replied that she didn’t know, but she was very sorry. This quieted him and he stared moodily ahead.
Finally he turned back to the freak. His face flinched—the freak guessed in disgust—and he said with a forced politeness, “Do you know what your duties are?” She shook her head. “First of all, my daughter Sarah is not a little girl, she’s fifteen.”
The freak’s mouth dropped open. “But sir!”
He scowled at her and she sunk back into her seat. “Apparently, there was a slight miscommunication between your mistress and myself. But my daughter is not a little girl, nor do I want her to be treated as one. She is a woman and she desires respect and a companion, though she is unaware of this fact yet. She also needs discipline, although unaware of this fact also.”
She winced. “Please sir, I don’t understand.”
The gentleman sighed. “Never mind that, you’ll understand the situation soon enough. What is important is that you are here. And for now, that is enough.”
The freak stared at him.
She wanted to speak with him, to ask him a question, but when she opened her mouth, the gentleman turned away and refused to look at her, even when she coughed politely. After making sure his breathing was steady and his face was unperturbed, she turned to the window, watching fields of purple fly past.
Finally, just as the silver mountains threatened to swallow them up, they turned onto a country road that went through a wild grassy meadow and stopped. At first, the freak couldn’t figure out why, but when she looked out at the front window, she gasped, shrinking into the seat. Starring back at her was the biggest house that she ever saw. Tall and white, it loomed in front of her, peering at her curiously with large glassy eyes, its smile enveloped by a large grassy field.
“Aren’t you coming out?”
The freak started at the gentleman’s words and blushed, her eyes darting wonderingly about the car. The driver was already walking away and the two of them were left alone together. She shrunk in her seat and looked at the gentleman desperately.
He frowned. “This is your first car ride, isn’t it?” When she said nothing, he opened his door. “Come, follow me.” Then, without looking back, he headed towards the house.
She scrambled to catch up with him, but he walked too quickly and she was too weak to be fast. When he arrived at the door, it was all she could do to cry, “Sir!”
The gentleman stopped at the sound of her voice and watched her stagger up the stairs and finally to his side. She panted heavily, looking up at him. “Please sir, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” When the freak hesitated, he shook his head. “I would have waited.” With that, he pushed the door open. “Welcome home, Freak.”
She gasped. It felt like she had walked into a dream. Soft chairs and sofas were turned toward each other, colorful yarn blankets tossed haphazardly across them. And instead of a peeling white paint, the walls were made up of rich maple panels, decorated by pictures of bright antique airplanes, swirling in lovely blue skies.
In the middle of the room, a big woman in her late fifties adjusted some pillows on the oversized chairs. The gentleman coughed and stepped forward.
“Elsa?”
The woman wheeled around, frowning. “What do you want?” And then she saw the freak. Her eyes grew wide and she stepped back. “What is that?”
The man nudged the freak forward. “Please, I would like you to meet Elsa, the head housekeeper. Elsa? This is the freak.”
The freak nervously straightened out her dress and curtseyed. “Good afternoon, madam,” she squeaked. “It is very nice to meet you.”
Elsa looked sick.
“Oh my,” she whispered. “What happened to her? She looks terrible. Oh my. She is such a delicate thing. I thought you were buying an older freak?”
“She is an older freak,” the man said coolly. “The oldest one I could find. She’s just a little underdeveloped, that’s all.” He turned to the freak. “Give me your dog tags.”
Instantly the freak’s hand shot up to her necklace. “Sir,” she began.
He shook his head. “I know,” he said sympathetically. “It’s illegal for you to take them off. But this is only for a moment. I won’t let you get in trouble, not for this. Come now.”
She reluctantly took off her necklace and handed it to him, her neck feeling strangely bare. He peered at the dog tag and nodded. “According to this, she is twenty years old.”
Elsa gasped. “Twenty! She looks twelve. And she is supposed to be in good condition? Oh dear! Have you checked her teeth? You should always check for things like that. Oh, why would you pick a freak without looking at it first?”
He shrugged. “It’s too late now. What would you like me to do? Send her away?”
The freak cried out in alarm and stepped back. Fortunately, Elsa had the same reaction.
“No, no, you needn’t send her away. Oh dear, no. If anything, kill her instead. That would probably be the nicest thing you could do. She’s been through enough already.”
“Perhaps. But she’s a freak. They heal quickly. She’ll be fine.”
“I suppose.” Elsa sighed and glanced around the room. “Look, if I can get another servant to finish up this room, I can at least clean her up so she smells somewhat decent. You would like that, wouldn’t you, sweetie?”
The freak’s eyes went wide and she stepped back. The man frowned.
“You are not to call her by a name. She is a freak.”
Elsa snorted. “Oh, bother! Rules, rules, rules. Always such a nuisance. I bet if they didn’t starve her, she would look plenty human enough.”
He sighed. “Elsa, that talk is unacceptable here. You know better.”
“Oh, I know plenty of things. But this isn’t right, sir. This just isn’t right. And you won’t even let her die honorably.”
“Elsa...”
When he was sure that Elsa would not say anything more, the man took out an envelope from his pocket and tore it open, taking out a shiny dog tag. He turned to the freak. “This dog tag signifies that I am your new master. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
He nodded and clipped on the dog tag, putting the chain back around her neck. “Go with Elsa. She’ll help you.” The freak curtseyed.
“Thank you, sir.”
She might have said more, but Elsa touched her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

*

Chapter 3

The freak wanted to see the rest of the house, but Elsa walked so quickly that all she could see were blurs of brown walls. Finally, just when the freak thought she would collapse, Elsa stopped.
“You’re going in here.”
Elsa opened the door and the freak stumbled in.
“It’s not as pretty as the other bathrooms, but it’ll serve very nicely for our purposes.” The freak stared. The walls were covered in light green tiles and the floor was layered with such an assortment of mismatched towels that the colors were overwhelming. Elsa kicked away the towels and turned on the bathwater. She wrinkled her nose. “Kerosene, isn’t it? What a stupid woman your owner was.” She put her hand under the faucet and frowned. “Yes, this is good. Strip off those horrid things and come in.”
The freak took off the dress carefully. “It’s new,” she said.
Elsa snorted. “Here.” She picked up the dress and threw it aside. “We’ll get you something better. Now get in the bath and hold still. I’m going to shave your head.”
It took hours. By the time Elsa was done with all the scrubbing and shaving and bandaging, the freak’s fingers felt like pale yellow raisins. She rubbed her hands together while Elsa wrapped a fluffy pink towel around her shoulders.
“Now, to find clothes for you.” She glanced at the freak and frowned. “You’re such a small thing. It’s going to be difficult to fit you. Wait a minute, I’ll be back.”
When Elsa came back, she was carrying an armful of colorful clothes that was so tall that her head barely poked out of them. The freak stared.
“Are those for me?”
Elsa let the clothes drop. “If they fit. It’s Sarah’s old stuff, but she never wore it. Come on, pick something you like.”
The freak was speechless.
After a couple of minutes of struggling, she found a lovely yellow dress that smelled like soap and a little green hat with a faded pink flower on top. She adjusted the flower, trying to make the petals bloom just right, and tried not to prance through the hallways behind Elsa. It was hard not to—everything was lovely. From the dark mahogany floors to the pine wood panel walls, the freak felt as if she had landed into a dream world. It was too soon when Elsa finally stopped at a door and unlocked it, nudging the freak in.
“Good luck,” Elsa grunted.
The door closed.
And purple was everywhere. In the carpet, in the curtains, on the walls—even the large white couch in the center of the room was covered in purple quilts and blankets. They weren’t the same purples, of course. Some were the light purples of a healing bruise, others were the deep purples of a black eye, and they were all arranged in a fashionable way that was meant to look appealing. But the color was so strong that the freak’s head spun and she felt like she was drowning. Even her yellow dress shriveled up in this room.
“I suppose you’re my new maidservant.”
The freak jumped back, startled, and looked around desperately. “Miss?” she began nervously when she saw a pretty girl with blonde hair rise up from the couch, a lavender quilt tossed over her shoulders. The freak blushed and curtseyed. “Good afternoon, Miss.”
The girl frowned. “Did my father hire you as my maidservant?”
“Yes, Miss.” The freak wished her voice were stronger. “I’m sorry,” she added, curtseying again.
The girl ignored her. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Miss—” The freak didn’t know what to say. Her eyes went back and forth and she began to tremble. “Miss—Miss Sarah, isn’t it? I am sorry, I don’t have—”
The girl scowled at her. “Just as well. Get out. You can tell my father that I do not need a servant, and, furthermore, if this is just another of his idiotic attempts at controlling me, then it hasn’t worked.”
The freak opened her mouth and shut it quickly. “Miss, Miss, please!”
“What’s this?” The girl sounded amused.
The freak looked upset. “Please Miss! Don’t worry. I’m not your servant. Or, I am your servant, but that doesn’t mean—” the freak stopped talking, now thoroughly confused. She looked at Sarah hopefully. Sarah stood up, brushing herself off.
“So you are an idiot, are you not?”
“If it pleases you, my lady.”
“Very well then, come with me.” She walked briskly to the door and opened it, making a mock bow to the freak. The freak blushed and curtseyed, hesitating at the doorway. Sarah glared at her. “Aren’t you coming out?”
“I’m sorry, Miss.”
Sarah only snorted.
The walls echoed with their footsteps as they walked. Sometimes, she heard voices from far off rooms. The freak twisted her head around when she thought Sarah wasn’t watching, trying to catch the ghosts of conversation and laughter she heard. But whenever the freak thought they were getting closer, the fainter the voices became until they just disappeared.
Finally Sarah shoved open a door.
Inside was the gentleman the freak had met in the car, sitting at a desk with a large stack of papers beside him. If he knew they were in the room, he didn’t show it; he didn’t look up and occasionally he scribbled something in a deep red journal beside him. The freak blushed and curtseyed anyway.
Sarah stood and watched him.
“Let me guess,” he said finally, not looking up. “You are dissatisfied with my purchase and would like to return it immediately. Before I will even consider returning it, give me a reason. Why is it insufficient for your needs?”
Sarah blinked. “Insufficient! What are you talking about?” He looked up hopefully. This encouraged Sarah and she gave an important cough. “I am having problems with my new maidservant.” He looked down and sighed.
“I am very busy now, daughter. Why are you here?”
“You’re the one who keeps giving me these maidservants. Do you deny it?”
“No.”
His short answer discouraged her. “Well, I don’t want one. Especially this one.”
“What has this one done to you?”
She snorted and drew herself higher. “She is an idiot—she has freely admitted it herself. She cannot talk, she cannot think, and besides that, she has a ghastly air about her.”
“Ghastly air?” The man looked confused. “You would send her away just because she looks ugly?”
Sarah scowled. “That’s not the only reason. You see—”
And the freak’s stomach dropped. She glanced at Sarah frantically, but Sarah seemed unfazed. She would not help her. The freak choked and turned to Sarah’s father, watching his reactions as he listened.
Finally, he interrupted Sarah. “Are you sure you want to get rid of her?”
“Yes, quite sure.”
He sighed. “Then do as I say. In this desk on the right hand side in the third drawer to the bottom there is something you will need. Open this drawer.” He didn’t look up and Sarah paused strangely before going to the desk.
“There’s a couple of pens here and—” She stopped, her eyes wide.
“A gun, loaded with exactly one bullet. Be exceedingly careful when handling it—do not touch the trigger. Take it out.” Sarah looked surprised and a little fearful, but she took it out carefully nonetheless.
“Why is this here?”
Her father ignored her question. “Take the gun and point it at the freak.”
“What!”
He looked annoyed. “The freak. Your maidservant, as you call her. Point it at the freak’s chest, straight at her heart, and shoot. Do not point it at the freak’s head as that method is too messy. It may kill instantly, but I don’t want the rugs to be stained with too much blood. The servants will complain; besides the rugs were expensive.”
Sarah looked horrified, but the freak didn’t care anymore. She stepped forward and looked at the man pleadingly. “You will not send me away then?”
He shook his head. “No. Sarah will shoot you instead. Step away from the carpet.”
The freak fingered the yellow fabric of her dress and nodded, her hands shaking. But at least she wasn’t being sent away. She thanked the man and stepped off the carpet.
Sarah was staring at the gun in her hands. She didn’t move for a minute and the only noise was the shuffle of her father sorting papers. She finally looked up, her face twisted strangely. “The bullets are blanks.”
“Do you think so?”
Sarah seemed wholly convinced now. “Yes. It doesn’t make sense for you to just hand me a gun that is fully loaded. If I wanted to, I could shoot you instead.”
“True.” He didn’t sound remotely concerned about this and kept sorting papers. “I suppose you could if you wanted. But it’s not fully loaded. There’s only one bullet there at the moment—I took the other five out. If you killed me, you would not be able to kill the freak.”
“And what if I didn’t want to kill the freak?”
“Then I would think you a fool.” He continued sorting papers. Sarah bit her lip and stepped up, putting the gun to her father’s head. He paused and turned to her, the gun still at his temple. Then he laughed. “Sadie, you are one of the most amazing women I have ever met.”
“The bullets are blanks.”
“If you say so.”
He watched her, interested as her face contorted into different emotions. His face was calm and even amused. Finally Sarah smiled and then, pointing the gun away from her father’s head and to a couch instead, she fired.
The sound was loud; the freak could hear her ears ringing and not much else. The couch had a new deep hole in it. Sarah’s father looked at it with a frown. “Pity, I liked that couch.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. With a cry, she dropped the gun and ran out. The freak looked at Sarah’s father pleadingly. He lifted his eyebrows. “Well? Follow her.” The freak nodded, curtseyed, and rushed after Sarah, her pretty yellow dress swishing at her heels.
Sarah’s father watched her leave before turning back to his work.






EDIT:

You guys are amazing! Here are probable changes I am going to make within the next edit:
--> Chapter 1 is mostly going to be removed. The important things will be combined with Chapter 2.
--> Mirror scene will be removed and many visual indicators will be taken out. A different description of her, using more tactile senses and smells, will be used instead. (And this is mostly because it seems that very few people are familiar with some of the visual symptoms malnutrition, so it would be ridiculous to use a description which confuses rather than describes.)
--> Interaction between headmistress and the freak will be removed.
--> Instead of the emphasis on waiting for a car, a greater emphasis will have her going to the gate, which will help foreshadow the end of the story and give it a more circular storyline.
--> Car scene will be revised... not sure how at the moment, but it will. Advice welcome, if you're willing to give.
If you want to comment or disagree with these possible edits, feel free to do so! Nothing has been written yet.


New version is the first post.
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D





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Thu Apr 15, 2010 8:48 am
Octave says...



Comments in red.

Snoink wrote:Note to mods: Capital letters are fully intended in this title. ^_^
Anyway, these are the first three chapters of FREAK. Besides any other comments you have, there is one huge thing I am looking for:
Where did you stop reading?
I purposely posted all three chapters in one long thread. It looks long and intimidating. If you read through it all, great. But if you didn't, tell me what line you gave up on. So if you could answer that, you would be really very helpful!
Also, if you've read FREAK previously, any sorts of comment comparing the two versions would be lovely.
Now, the story:





Chapter 1

She couldn’t get up at first. She could barely move. It took her two minutes before she tried to sit up and five until she finally did. And even then, the world lurched around her and the orange and gray sky devoured the rooftops, leaving behind blank buildings which stared at her with glassy eyes. Hmm...The first part is kind of choppy, but I'll let it pass. Behind her was the house, a peeling, two-storey monster that she had lived in all her life. And before her was the gate.
She had to get there.
She winced, picking out the gravel embedded in her arms and legs, and tried to stand up. That took longer. By the time she was standing, she was winded and her whole body ached. She stretched, gasping as her joints cracked, and took a tentative step forward. She almost fell. But she had to keep moving. She had to get to the gate. If she stayed, she would be sent away. But if she kept moving...
She gritted her teeth, grabbed her silver dog tag, and stumbled forward. A man had bought her yesterday. If she kept moving, she would have a home. All she had to do was walk to the gate.
And she wanted to cry. Her lungs burned, her heart shuddered, and every step twisted her knees so that tears sprang to her eyes. No transition between this sentence and the next. Fix. Or move the next sentence to a new paragraph. When she finally came to the gate, it was all she could do but keep herself from crying. Awkward sentence. Revise. Slowly, she leaned on the gate, pressing her face deep against the chain links. With one hand, she clung to the rusty gate and with the other she fingered her dog tag, tracing the word “FREAK” over and over again.
“Freak?”
Her head snapped up.
It was a man’s voice, but she didn’t see him at first. The whitewashed apartments across the street stared down at her and trash fluttered down the street like an injured pigeon. And then she saw the car. It was a black sedan, a beautiful car that shimmered with tiny silver flecks. And embedded in the grill was the tiniest sparrow, its eyes closed and its wings folded at an odd angle.
A man stood next to the car. His face shocked her. Don't use "and" to start sentences too much. It kind of loses its impact if you do. When he was younger, he might have been handsome, but now his jaw was drawn tight, twisted in a perpetual smirk. He looked old. And yet, as old as he seemed, his face held no expression. I thought it was twisted in a perpetual smirk? He might as well have been wearing a mask. “So are you the freak?”
She curtseyed. “Please sir, are you my new master, sir?” Her voice was barely a squeak. Such a sudden change in body language, in action. More transition please.
He glanced at her. “Maybe. How old are you?”
“Twenty, sir.”
“Twenty what?”
“Twenty years, sir.”
He scowled. “You’re lying. You look twelve.” When she said nothing, he said, “I was under the impression that I would purchase the oldest freak here. The freak that helped out with the children. She was twenty.”
She curtseyed. “I am that freak, sir.”
“Let me see your dog tags.”
She nodded and limped to him, biting her lip as her knees cracked and her body shook. But just as she came closer, he recoiled from her, his eyes wide.
“You smell like kerosene!”
Automatically, she shrank away. The man just stared. For a moment, it was quiet. Then, slowly, he ran his finger around her neck until he found the chain. He tugged the dog tag out. “You are twenty.”
“Yes, sir.”
A strange look crossed his face. “Come in.” He opened the car door and gestured to some rags. She curtseyed once more and crawled into the backseat of his car.
The man sat down next to her, signaled the driver, and leaned back. The car rumbled forward.
It was quiet.
After a couple of minutes of silence, she peeked outside again. Everything was purple and distorted through the tinted glass and the buildings all twisted into strange shapes. She stared with wonder I took out "at this" because all it did was make the sentence clunky. before turning back to the gentleman. The man was watching her gravely but as soon as she turned to him, he looked the other way.
Hours passed. The buildings turned into trees and the trees turned into grassy meadows that seemed to stretch on to eternity. Finally, just when she was sure that they would crash into the silver mountains up ahead, they turned onto a country road that went and stopped. Wha...? Revise the end of this sentence. The beginning is good but the end is iffy and weird. At first, the freak couldn’t figure out why but when she looked out at the front window, she gasped and shrunk into the seat.
Staring back at her was the biggest house she ever saw. Tall and white, it loomed in front of her, peering at her curiously with large glassy eyes. Vines crawled over its face and twisted around balconies. All around the house were fields of grass and flowers, reaching out (I edited the sentence because it was awkward the way you put it. And I didn't use stretching out because you used stretched a few sentences back.) as far as she could see. And beyond that was the bluest sky she had ever seen.
“Well?” the man asked as the driver left them and a sweet burst of wildflowers drifted past. “Are you ready to go inside?”
She glanced at the man, frightened. Carefully, she squirmed out of her seat but her movements were too slow and everything hurt.
He sighed. “Here, let me help.” He bent down to pick her up. She whimpered and shrunk away at first, but he cradled her in his arms and took her to the door. Wait. So she's really small? 0o I mean, you can't carry a twelve year old that easily anymore... Carefully, he set her down on her feet, holding her up until he knew she had balanced herself. She swallowed.
“Thank you, sir,” she murmured.
He opened the door. “Welcome home, Freak.”
It was beautiful. Soft chairs and sofas were turned toward each other, colorful yarn blankets tossed haphazardly across them. And all across the maple wall panels were pictures of bright antique airplanes, swirling in lovely blue skies.
She stumbled in, drunk from color, and stood still, curling her toes into the carpet. In the middle of the room, a big woman in her late fifties adjusted some pillows on the oversized chairs. The man coughed and stepped forward.
“Elsa?”
The woman wheeled around, frowning. “What do you want?” Then she saw the freak. She stepped back, her eyes wide. “What is that?”
The man pushed the freak forward. “Freak, this is Elsa, the head housekeeper. Elsa, this is the freak.”
“You got a freak?” Elsa looked sick.
The man turned to the freak. “Give me your dog tags.”
Instantly the freak’s hand shot up to her necklace. “Sir,” she began.
He sighed. “Let me rephrase that statement in a way that you will understand: give me your dog tags or else I will send you away.”
While the freak hurried to take off her necklace, Elsa stared. “She’s going to die. She won’t last a week.”
The man laughed. “She’ll be a perfect maidservant for Sarah then! Cheapest maidservant I’ve had in years. Clean her up now and I’ll increase your salary by ten-percent this month. I’ll even give you an additional ten-percent for every month that she survives.” Kind of stilted. You might want to fix it.
Elsa looked shocked. “And if she dies?”
“You mean when she dies.” He took out an envelope from his pocket and tore it open, taking out a shiny dog tag. He turned to the freak. “This dog tag signifies that I am your new master. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded and clipped on the dog tag, putting the chain back around her neck. He glanced at Elsa. “Well?”
Elsa scowled. “Fine. I’ll play your game. But I want twenty-percent.” She turned to the freak. “Come on, Freak, let’s go.”





Chapter 2

The freak wanted to see the rest of the house but Elsa walked so quickly that all she could see were blurs of brown walls. Finally, just when the freak thought she would collapse, You use the "just when the..." phrase a lot. Try to mellow down a bit. :) Elsa stopped and opened a door.
“You’re going in here.”
The freak gasped. She gasps a lot. There's other body language too, you know. :) The walls were covered in light green tiles and the floor was layered with such an assortment of mismatched towels that the colors were overwhelming. Elsa pushed the freak in, kicked away the towels, and turned on the bathwater. “Take off your clothes and get in. I’m going to shave your head.”
And it took hours. By the time Elsa was done with all the scrubbing and shaving and bandaging, her fingers felt like raisins. You might want to mention that it's freak's fingers. She there refers to Elsa. She rubbed her hands together while Elsa wrapped a fluffy pink towel around her shoulders.
“Now, to find clothes for you.” Elsa glanced at the freak and frowned. “Wait a minute, I’ll be back.”
When Elsa came back, she was carrying an armful of colorful clothes that was so tall that her head barely poked out of them. This sentence isn't working for me. Revise please? She dropped the clothes. There was an extra drop there. I deleted it. “Here. Wear this,” she said, shoving a yellow lacey dress in the freak’s face.
The freak blushed. “It’s too pretty,” she said slowly. “If I am to be a maidservant...” Mmm...Something wrong with the last sentence. It makes the dialogue somewhat stilted. Edit.
Elsa snorted. “Whoever said you would be her maidservant?”
“The master said—”
A strange look crossed Elsa’s face. She took out a moldy green hat, wiped it on her apron, and handed it to the freak. “Here, put this on. It’ll be over soon. In the meantime, you might as well look presentable. There! Better. Now follow me.”
Hallway after hallway, she scrambled after Elsa, crawling up the stairs and twisting through the house. When Elsa finally stopped at a door Stopped at a door again. Tsk. Beware repetition., the freak thought her lungs would burst.
“Good luck,” she She here refers to Freak this time. Careful with antecedents, Snoink. said, shoving the freak in. She Antecedents. shut the door.
And purple was everywhere. The carpet, the curtains, the walls—even the large white couch in the center of the room was covered in purple quilts. The freak felt like she was drowning. Suppose you could show us this? No need, it works fine. I think it would be better, though. Slowly, she backed away to the door.
“I suppose you’re my new maidservant.”
The freak started, looking around desperately. “Miss?” she began nervously when she saw a pretty girl with blonde hair rise up from the couch, a lavender quilt tossed over her shoulders. The freak blushed and curtseyed. “Good afternoon, Miss.”
The girl frowned. “My father hired you as my maidservant?”
“Yes, Miss.” The freak wished her voice were stronger. “I’m sorry,” she added, curtseying again.
The girl ignored her. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Miss—” The freak didn’t know what to say. Her eyes went back and forth and she began to tremble. “Miss—Miss Sarah, isn’t it? It's a little assertive of her to call Sarah by her name, which doesn't really fit in with Freak's personality. Fix. I am sorry, I don’t have—”
The girl scowled at her. “Just as well. Get out. You can tell my father that I do not need a servant, and, furthermore, if this is just another of his idiotic attempts at controlling me, then it hasn’t worked.” Kind of stilted too.
The freak opened her mouth and shut it quickly. “Miss, Miss, please!”
“What’s this?” The girl sounded amused.
The freak looked upset. Show us how she looks upset. The way her eyebrows are scrunched, her lower lip trembling, etc. “Please Miss! Don’t worry, I’m not your servant. I’ll serve you, but that doesn’t mean—” the freak stopped talking, confused.
Sarah stood, brushing herself off. “So you are an idiot, aren't you?
“If it pleases you, my lady.”
“Very well then, come with me.” She walked briskly to the door and opened it, making a mock bow to the freak. The last part is awkward. Revise. The freak blushed and curtseyed, hesitating at the doorway. Sarah glared at her. “Aren’t you coming out?”
“I’m sorry, Miss.”
Sarah snorted.
The walls echoed with their footsteps as they walked. Sometimes, she She here refers to Sarah. Careful careful. heard voices from far off rooms. The freak twisted her head around when she thought Sarah wasn’t watching, trying to catch the ghosts of conversation and laughter she heard. But whenever the freak thought they were getting closer, the fainter the voices became until they just disappeared. Whaa...? I don't get this last sentence.
Finally Sarah shoved open a door. Lots of door opening in this novel. ;) You don't need to show us this all the time.
Inside was the man the freak I just remembered now. Pick one - the freak or Freak. It's easier for the reader that way, and much more consistent. For purposes of consistency, whenever I need to type out the freak/Freak, I will use Freak. But you choose which one. This is only for my review. Personally I think the freak sounds better. had met in the car, sitting at a desk with a large stack of papers beside him. If he knew they were in the room, he didn’t show it; he didn’t look up and occasionally he scribbled something in a deep red journal beside him. The freak blushed and curtseyed anyway.
Sarah stood and watched him.
“Let me guess,” he said finally, not looking up. “You are dissatisfied with my purchase and would like to return it immediately. Before I will even consider returning it, give me a reason. Why is it insufficient for your needs?”
Sarah blinked. “Insufficient! What are you talking about?” He looked up hopefully. This encouraged Sarah and she gave an important cough. “I am having problems with my new maidservant.”
He looked down and sighed. “I am very busy now, daughter. Awkward. Revise. Why are you here?”
“You’re the one who keeps giving me these maidservants. Do you deny it?”
“No.”
His short answer discouraged her. “Well, I don’t want one. Especially this one.”
“What has this one done to you?”
She snorted and drew herself higher. “She is an idiot—she has freely admitted it herself. She cannot talk, cannot think I deleted she because I think it flows better that way., and besides that, she has a ghastly air about her.”
“So?”
Sarah scowled. “That’s not the only reason that I want to send her off. You see—”
And the freak’s stomach dropped. She glanced at Sarah frantically, but Sarah seemed unfazed. She would not help Freak. Freak choked and turned to Sarah’s father, watching his face carefully. Show us what Freak saw.
Finally, he interrupted Sarah. “Are you sure you want to get rid of her?”
“Yes, quite sure.”
He sighed. “Then do as I say. In this desk on the right hand side in the third drawer to the bottom there is something you will need. Open this drawer.” He didn’t look up and Sarah paused strangely before going to the desk.
“There’s a couple of pens here and—” She stopped, her eyes wide.
“A gun, loaded with exactly one bullet. Be exceedingly careful when handling it—do not touch the trigger. Take it out.” Sarah looked surprised and a little fearful, but she took it out carefully nonetheless.
“Why is this here?”
Her father ignored her question. “Take the gun and point it at the freak.”
“What!”
He looked annoyed. “The freak. Your maidservant, as you call her. Point it at the freak’s chest, straight at her heart, and shoot. Do not point it at the freak’s head as that method is too messy. It may kill instantly, but I don’t want the rugs to be stained with too much blood. The servants will complain; besides the rugs were expensive.”
Sarah looked horrified, but the freak didn’t care anymore. She stepped forward and looked at the man pleadingly. “You will not send me away then?”
He shook his head. “No. Sarah will shoot you. Step away from the carpet.”
The freak fingered the yellow fabric of her dress and nodded, her hands shaking. She thanked him and stepped off the carpet. Good. This makes me wonder how horrific the place where she once lived was. :D
Sarah stared at the gun in her hands. For a minute, the only noise was her father sorting papers. Finally, she looked up, her face twisted strangely. “The bullets are blanks.”
“Do you think so?”
Sarah seemed wholly convinced now. “Yes. It doesn’t make sense for you to just hand me a gun that is fully loaded. If I wanted to, I could shoot you instead.”
“True.” He continued sorting papers. “I suppose you could shoot me if you wanted. But it’s not fully loaded. There’s only one bullet there at the moment—I took the other five out. If you killed me, you would not be able to kill the freak.”
“And what if I didn’t want to kill the freak?”
“Then I would think you a fool.”
Sarah bit her lip. She stepped and put the gun to her father’s head. He paused and turned to her, the gun still at his temple. Then he laughed. “Sadie, you are one of the most amazing women I have ever met.”
“The bullets are blanks.” HOLY CRAP.
“If you say so.”
He watched her, interested as her face contorted into different emotions. His face was calm and even amused. Finally Sarah smiled and then, pointing the gun away from her father’s head and to a couch instead, she fired.
The sound was loud; the freak could hear her ears ringing and not much else. The couch had a new deep hole in it. Sarah’s father looked at it with a frown. “Pity, I liked that couch.” I liked that scene. *thumbs up*
Sarah’s eyes went wide. With a cry, she dropped the gun and ran out. The freak looked at Sarah’s father pleadingly. He lifted his eyebrows. “Well? Follow her.” The freak nodded, curtseyed, and scrambled after Sarah.
Sarah’s father watched her leave before turning back to his work. Switch it POV. Freak doesn't see this so we shouldn't either.





Chapter 3

By the time the freak had entered the room, Sarah was already there, sitting on the floor. The freak was exhausted, but she stood up politely and watched Sarah.
“Your father told me to come here,” the freak said after she caught her breath.
“Did he?” Sarah didn’t look up, nor did she sound particularly interested.
The freak waited.
Finally, Sarah stood up and looked at the freak strangely. “Did he say anything else?” The freak shook her head. Sarah turned and stared out of the window.
“I’m sorry about what I said back there. I didn’t realize who you were. Who is freak? 0o I wish we knew.” Sarah waited for a response, but the freak was quiet. She turned to the freak. “He’s tried to do that for a while now, give me a maidservant that is. I never like them at all.”
The freak curtseyed politely. “I’m sorry, Miss.”
“Of course, I never thought that he would give me someone like you,” she continued nervously. “From the way he talked, I hardly believed he would—” She broke off and rubbed her shoe on the carpet. “So you’re a freak,” she said. “That’s why you couldn’t give me your name. You don’t have one.”
The freak curtseyed again. “Yes, Miss Sarah.”
Sarah flinched. “Stop doing that. Stop curtseying. I don’t like it. And don’t be so polite. I don’t like that either. My name’s not Miss. It’s Sarah.”
The freak nodded. “It’s a pretty name.”
Sarah snorted. “It’s a stuffy one. I can’t stand it. I wish my name were something else.”
“Your father called you Sadie.”
“My father!” She stood up angrily Adverbs are evil. Show me things! Let me hear her stamping her feet as she stands. and twisted her hands. “Of course he would call me that! He wants to ruin it. He’s ruined everything else. I hate him!” She turned to the freak viciously. :/ I don't like viciously here. I mean, you could show it to us. “And don’t you try to defend him. You saw what he did! And you could have died! But did he care? No. He just wanted to prove a point. He always has to prove a point. Sit down, you’re making me nervous.”
The freak sat.
“Now what do I call you?” When the freak started, she scowled. “I’m not calling you Freak.”
The freak paled. “You don’t have to call me anything then.”
Sarah ignored her. “Do you want a name?”
“That’s illegal.”
“But do you want one?” When the freak hesitated, Sarah laughed. “Don’t worry, you can trust me. How about Bethany? That’s a nice name. You can call me Sadie and I can call you Bethany, or Beth for short. It’ll be our little secret. What do you think?”
The freak shuddered but didn’t protest against it.
Sarah clapped her hands. “Very well! How are you doing, Beth?”
The freak felt helpless. “Oh, Miss!” she said. “It’s a very pretty name, but I’m a freak!” Tsk. Not working. This bit of dialogue is stilted.
Sarah snorted. “So what have you been genetically modified to do? Can you swim underwater without breathing? Light yourself on fire without burning? Fly?”
The freak looked around the room nervously. “I can crochet.” Hahaha. I like that.
“So can I. Am I a freak?”
The freak looked confused and opened her mouth to speak, her fingers brushing against her dog tags. They made a sweet tinkling sound.
Sarah frowned and sat back onto the couch, drawing several quilts around her. “Just because you’re in a bad situation doesn’t make you a freak. Otherwise, everybody would be one. I would be one! This year is the year I will marry a man that I have been betrothed to since I was five. His name is Claude. He’s fifty-five years old, fat, and balding. But I’m not a freak!”
“Is he good?” the freak asked. “The man?”
“Good? I don’t know. I’ve never met him.”
The freak opened her mouth, confused, but before she could speak, Sarah quickly said, “I know, it sounds like I’m being judgmental, but it’s not that! It’s not just his looks! It’s the circumstances around the whole matter—they seem fishy. When my father made the arrangement, my mother wasn’t consulted and she didn’t learn about it until everything legal had been signed. It doesn’t make sense.”
The freak bit her lip. “Your father?”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know. He says he did it because the marriage would be advantageous to both sides, but he also says other things that make me suspect otherwise. So that means he’s lying, but I can’t figure out how.”
“What does he want?” the freak asked.
Sarah frowned. “Power. Apparently, my fiancé is high up in the power circle. If my father can please him with me, he’ll have more power. And then my father can always exercise his power with me.” This feels kind of infodump-y, but I'll let it pass. Her voice trailed off.
“He’s like that,” she said finally. “That’s why he probably got you. My mother and I fight back when he tries to control us. But freaks? They don’t fight. It’s illegal. He knew that he wouldn’t get in trouble if he shot you.”
“But he didn’t,” the freak pointed out.
“And if I had?” Sadie shivered, pulling the blankets to her chin. “Stay away from my father. The farther we keep you apart, the safer you’ll be. Understand?”
The freak hesitated. But I'm not liking "but" here. before she could say anything, Elsa came in the room, carrying a bowl of porridge. The freak jumped up and curtseyed. Elsa ignored her.
“Dinner is ready, Miss Sarah,” she said, shifting the bowl in her hands. “Your father is waiting.”
“Tell him I’m not hungry.” Then, as an afterthought, she said, “Give the freak her dinner. She is my new maidservant.” Sarah turned and walked into her.
The freak heard a click of a lock.
Elsa sighed. “Dreadful child,” she murmured, setting the bowl down in front of the freak. “Always dramatic. Never knows when to quit. Just like her mother.”
The freak stared at her food. “Will I be sent away?”
Elsa flinched at these words. “No. Never.” Elsa stood up and rubbed her hair. Then, in a kinder voice, she added, “Don’t bother yourself about Sarah. She’s not worth it.”
The freak frowned and nodded before sitting down. Then she began to eat.


Final thoughts:

Sometimes you tell too much.

So far so good, I'm interested. I like the characters so far and I have bonded with Freak. :D

You have a few crutch words/phrases which I pointed out up there, so you might want to search and destroy. ;)

And yeah that's it. All my opinion, feel free to discard what you don't like and PM me if you have any questions.

Sincerely,

Kara
"The moral of this story, is that if I cause a stranger to choke to death for my amusement, what do you think I’ll do to you if you don’t tell me who ordered you to kill Colosimo?“

-Boardwalk Empire

Love, get out of my way.


Dulcinea: 2,500/50,000








A good artist should be isolated. If he isn't isolated, something is wrong.
— Orson Welles