Dreams Tell Lies- Chapter Three

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Chapter Three, I know it's a bit rough around the edges but I'm powering through and editing later. Reviews needed. *throws chapter in and then runs to hide under the table*



Chapter Three:

I walked determinedly for hours, trying not to let a single negative thought enter my head although my hands were numb with the cold and my breath came out in icy gasps as I crunched through the frosted leaves along the road.

It was as I reached the end of the next street that the realisation of what I was doing hit me. I had nothing with me, no money (unless you counted the measly coppers I had retained from my last trip up to the local store), and nowhere to go.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

I had contemplated running away before but I had never imagined I would ever have the courage to do it, I was sensible; I wasn’t the impulsive one. That had always been Megan, she was spontaneous, rash at times but that wasn’t the type of person I was. The way I saw the world was through a more rational light. You could describe it as weak or anxious even though it never seemed to let me down. Not like Megan. I shook my head firmly, thinking about her was painful.

The rain was just beginning to fall now, just tiny droplets, like tears trailing down my cheeks and off my chin. The stars had become obscured by the clouds that swept across the sky and the moon only shone dimly through the thick blanket that threatened to block it out entirley.

I glanced around desperately; there must have been some form of shelter in that godforsaken town! I hadn't got an idea of how far I had walked, just that I had been going for most of the night now and that my feet were starting to ache. I needed to sit down, to rest my weary head, even if it was only for a moment or two.

Peering through the darkness, my eyes spotted an old and deserted bench near a churchyard. It looked perfectly safe and at any rate it was a place to take a break, if nothing else. As I neared it I began to take in my surroundings properly using the light that illuminated the church to see.

I was on a small green, only one solitary tree stood magnificently on the grass, its bare and misshapen branches like long fingers that were outstretched towards me. The wind whistled eerily around the dead bushes planted side-by-side and the grey smoky clouds above seemed to sweep the life from the area as they crept slowly across the sky.

Sitting on the icy bench, I glanced behind me at the tall and majestic building that was the church. I couldn’t make out much below it due to the shadows it cast but I knew they would be there. The graves of men, women and children all standing side by side in rows, like soldiers preparing for battle.

If I listened closely I could have sworn I heard soft footsteps and heavy breathing as I sat. For most people I knew this would have frightened them out of their lives.

Too bad I didn’t believe in ghosts.

Patting my pocket, I suddenly realised that there was something in it. That was odd. I couldn’t remember having left anything in there other than the excess coins from the other day.

When I reached my fingers slowly in I was strangely apprehensive. I knew it was silly as it was obvious that there was nothing dangerous in there considering I was the one who had obviously put it in.

My hands closed around a small piece of paper that had been folded up to fit inside my jeans. I pulled it out and examined it closely.

It was a photograph. Two girls stood beaming next to a snowman, evidently proud of their work. Looking closer I could see Megan’s dark hair had been whipped around by the wind and her make-up had smudged slightly. I was only about eight years old, my arm was around her and my green eyes were sparkling.

Cats-eyes, Megan used to call them. Her own were almost black along with her hair; we looked nothing alike. The picture showed me how much I missed that life, it seemed to be taunting me. I knew I would never go back, I had my own life to live and I wasn’t going to do that following Megan around for the next ten or so years. It was time to stand on my own two feet and stop letting others do all the heavy lifting work for me.

This was my time.

I checked the clock on the church building behind the bench; the old and rusted hands told me that it was just past 5’o’clock in the morning. It would be getting light in a matter of minutes. I had to find somewhere to sleep before people began to appear.

Leaving the photo on the floor I reluctantly picked myself up and aimed for the river that seemed about a five minute walk down the hill. If it didn’t have a place to sleep, I thought, at least it would be useful to know where I can wash clothes if I need to.

The sky was definitely getting brighter now; the clouds were beginning to turn yellow as the sun pushed itself up over the hills and valleys. The occasional ray shone on my back and I was pleased to discover that it sent a lovely warm feeling all over my body. The winter sun didn’t usually hold much heat.

It cast shadows from the buildings and the river sparkled as the beams hit it, shedding ripples of light along the water.

A bridge stood over the waters, at first glance it reminded me of the bridge in the fairytale ‘Billy Goats’ gruff, and I had half a mind to attempt to cross it just to see if a troll would appear from the midst of the waters below. From a distance I could see what seemed to be a long tray on the pavement underneath the bridge. I took a few steps closer, deciding to investigate.

It was a wooden crate, split in half lying on the ground. It was long and thin and looked quite fragile but when I kicked it there wasn’t much movement. It was obviously quite sturdy. I studied it for a moment, stroking my hand s along the edges, but I didn’t get any splinters. On the contrary, the surface was actually reasonably smooth.

I was about to stand in it when it crossed my mind that perhaps It wouldn’t be the best idea to stamp my muddy footprints on the place that I may have needed to sleep on for a while. Changing the course of my feet at the last minute, I sat down on it. It wasn’t comfy, but I knew that from the moment I laid eyes on it. The wood was cold against me but not unpleasant. It wouldn’t be a bad place to stay during the daytime. The night would be a different matter though; it was going to be freezing cold, enough to chill my bones without the proper coverage.

Suddenly, I wasn’t that tired anymore. I had work to do, preparing my new home.

My home.

I liked the sound of that, it made me feel in control.

On my own.


**********************

Much of the rest of the day was spent retrieving items that I perceived to have some form of use, and placing them into the no longer empty bin. Soon, it was overflowing with the strangest collection of items; sheets of newspaper that I hoped would warm me when I slept, two packets of unopened chewing gum (I knew to ration these), a black glove, a book and many more things I had scrounged from the sides of the streets.

I went back to my little home under the bridge at about six in the evening. It was already dark, and I had struggled to find my way back. Having not slept for the past two days, I felt completely drained. Would I be able to sleep tonight, in an unusual place, with all the sounds of the town around me? I supposed I would have to, after all, if I was tired enough it wouldn’t be such a great feat. I would get used to it soon enough.

I reached gently into my bin, and after searching for a few minutes, found what I was looking for. I withdrew the newspaper carefully and took it with me back to the crate. It wouldn’t cover the whole of me and I would need to see if I could find a rug sooner or later as the nights were cold and often wet.

Drawing the sheets around me as tightly as I could, I scuffled down into the best lying position that was possible, given the confined space.

I shuffled under the newspaper, I was right about the lack of protection it gave me but I was glad there was something covering me all the same. I rolled over to try and get comfy; I kept rolling onto hard stones on the walkway and having to constantly brush my hand vigorously beneath me. I shut my eyes and let the night close in around me.
Last edited by IcyFlame on Tue Sep 27, 2011 7:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.




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Hello hello :)
You asked so nicely, and in honour of review Sunday, here I am! I read the preface and the previous two chapters. Out of all of them the first chapter was my favourite. You lead me very well into her throwing herself off of a bridge and described it very.. thoroughly. You have a habit of doing that, being very thorough in your descriptions, and while some people appreciate it, I find that the relationship between the reader and the writers works both ways. Give the reader some opportunity to create their own images and feelings, instead of just telling them how to feel. Show, don't tell.

"I walked determinedly for hours, trying not to let a single negative thought enter my head although my hands were numb with the cold and my breath came out in icy gasps as I crunched through the frosted leaves along the road." this is a very long first sentence which requires quite a bit of focus, try simplify it and add a bit more ambiguity maybe, make it more interesting. I liked the sounds though, 'gasps', 'crunched'.

"I had contemplated running away before but I had never imagined I would ever have the courage to do it." ok before this we dont really know that she's running away so this is when the reader kind of goes OHMYWORD SHES RUNNING AWAY?? This is obviously an imperitive part, try spice it up a little and make it seem more badass instead of her doubting her own courage. I mean, she's all alone now, her courage is all she has.

"The way I saw the world was through a more rational light. You could describe it as weak or anxious even though it never seemed to let me down." Dont tell us, show us!

"Too bad I didn’t believe in ghosts." I love this, you can almost imagine her saying it in a super herione catch phrase voice, however, it sort of contradicts "wasn’t the type of person I was..wasn’t the type of person I was"

"5’o’clock in the morning. It would be getting light in a matter of minutes. I had to find somewhere to sleep before people began to appear." Its five in the morning, she's just run away and she wants to sleep now? Also, she doesnt seem like a stupid girl, if she's running away im sure she would've taken some cash with her and gotten completely out of range of her evil mom, and sister who sounds like she has the power to pull her back? She's also just had a mini epiphany and convinced herself that "this is her time." I became super happy and excited for what she was going to do with her new found freedom, but all of a sudden she's decided to live under a bridge?

"I shut my eyes and let the night close in around me." you had such a lovely sentence about the sun pushing itself over the hills and valleys earlier?

I can tell how much work you've put in and you must be proud! :) its very good and Im excited to see where it goes. PM me or let me know when you have the next chapter up. sorry if my review is a bit sketchy or ive misunderstood, my brain is really tired. :)
enjoy the rest of your sunday!

Cats-eyes, Megan used to call them. Her own were almost black along with her hair; we looked nothing alike

5’o’clock in the morning. It would be getting light in a matter of minutes. I had to find somewhere to sleep before people began to appear.
"Dad, I'm hungry."
Hello hungry!
"Dad! I'm serious."
I thought you were hungry?
"Are you kidding me?"
No. I'm dad.




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This spot is reserved for my review. I will come back when I have plenty of time to delve into the story. Plus, I might want to go back and read the previous material. :D

(From what I read as I glanced over it, I thought it looked pretty good. You have a nice voice and I could hear it when I read a few snippets here and there. Don't worry, I'll be back.)
After all, it is the pen that gives power to the mythical sword.

"For an Assistant Pig-Keeper, I think you're quite remarkable." Eilonwy

"You also shall be Psyche."

"My only regret
all the Butterflies
that I have killed with my car" Martin Lanaux




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heya. I'm here as requested :D
Thanks for the review on the start of my story and im glad you liked it ;)

Anyways, to the point.
I truely did like your story, you managed to get a clear voice from the main characters perspective and it was all detailed wonderfully.

But just to let you know, when you write
I couldn’t make out much below it due to the shadows it cast, but I knew they would be there.
make sure you add comma's before "But".
There wasn't anything overally wrong, but these are some things that i thought might help...


I had walked determinedly for hours, trying not to let a single negative thought enter my head although my hands were numb with the cold and my breath came out in icy gasps as I crunched through the frosted leaves along the road.

It was as I reached the end of the next street that the realisation of what I was doing hit me. I had nothing with me, no money (unless you counted the measly coppers I had retained from my last trip up to the local store), and nowhere to go.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! i like this :D

I had contemplated running away before, but I had never imagined I would ever have the courage to do it, I was sensible; I wasn’t the impulsive one. That had always been Megan, she was spontaneous, rash at times, but that wasn’t the type of person I was. The way I saw the world was through a more rational light. You could describe it as weak or anxious even though it never seemed to let me down. Not like Megan. I shook my head firmly, (you could say something like how she was physically trying to shake away the thoughts?)thinking about her was painful.

The rain was just beginning to fall now; just tiny droplets, like tears trailing down my cheeks and off my chin. The stars had become obscured by the clouds that swept across the sky and the moon only shone dimly through the thick blanket that threatened to block it out entirley.

I glanced around desperately; there must have been some form of shelter in is godforsaken town! I didn't have any idea of how far I had walked, just that I had been going for most of the night now, and that my feet were starting to ache. I needed to sit down, to rest my weary head, even if it was only for a moment or two.

Peering through the darkness, my eyes spotted an old and deserted bench near a churchyard. It looked perfectly safe and at any rate it was a place to take a break, if nothing else. As I neared it I began to take in my surroundings properly; using the light that illuminated the church to see.

I was on a small green,(you were on a small green? what does this mean?) only one solitary tree stood magnificently on the grass, its bare and misshapen branches like long fingers that were outstretched towards me.(I like the description of the tree here) The wind whistled eerily around the dead bushes planted side-by-side and the grey smoky clouds above seemed to sweep the life from the area as they crept slowly across the sky.

Sitting on the icy bench, I glanced behind me at the tall and majestic building that was the church. I couldn’t make out much below it due to the shadows it cast, but I knew they would be there. The graves of men, women and children all standing side by side in rows, like soldiers preparing for battle.

If I listened closely I could have sworn I heard soft footsteps and heavy breathing as I sat. For most people I knew this would have frightened them out of their lives.

Too bad I didn’t believe in ghosts. :D

Patting my pocket, I suddenly realised that there was something in it. That was odd. I couldn’t remember having left anything in there other than the excess coins from the other day.

When I reached my fingers slowly in I was strangely apprehensive. I knew it was silly as it was obvious that there was nothing dangerous in there considering I was the one who had obviously put it in there in the first place.

My hands closed around a small piece of paper that had been folded up to fit inside my jeans.[next line] I pulled it out and examined it closely.

It was a photograph. Two girls stood beaming next to a snowman, evidently proud of their work. Looking closer I could see Megan’s dark hair had been whipped around by the wind and her make-up had smudged slightly. I was only about eight years old, my arm was around her and my green eyes were sparkling.

Cats-eyes, Megan used to call them. Her own were almost black along with her hair; we looked nothing alike. The picture showed me how much I missed that life, it seemed to be taunting me. I knew I would never go back, I had my own life to live and I wasn’t going to do that following Megan around for the next ten or so years. It was time to stand on my own two feet and stop letting others do all the heavy lifting work for me.

This was my time.

I checked the clock on the church building behind the bench; the old (get rid of and and replace it with a comma) and rusted hands told me that it was just past 5’o’clock in the morning. It would be getting light in a matter of minutes, which meant that I had to find somewhere to sleep before people began to appear.

Leaving the photo on the floor I reluctantly picked myself up and aimed for the river that seemed about a five minute walk down the hill. If it didn’t have a place to sleep, I thought, at least it would be useful to know where I can wash my clothes if I need to.

The sky was definitely getting brighter now; the clouds were beginning to turn yellow as the sun pushed itself up over the hills and valleys. The occasional ray shone on my back and I was pleased to discover that it sent a lovely warm feeling all over my body. The winter sun didn’t usually hold much heat. (this last line is retty much not needed.)

It cast shadows from the buildings and the river sparkled as the beams hit it;shedding ripples of light along the water.

A bridge stood over the waters, at first glance it reminded me of the bridge in the fairytale ‘Billy Goats’ gruff, and I had half a mind to attempt to cross it just to see if a troll would appear from the midst of the waters below. From a distance I could see what seemed to be a long tray on the pavement underneath the bridge. I took a few steps closer, deciding to investigate.

It was a wooden crate, split in half lying on the ground. It was long and thin and looked quite fragile, but when I kicked it there wasn’t much movement; It was obviously quite sturdy. I studied it for a moment, stroking my hand's along the edges, (i would use "luckily or thankfully" instead of but) but I didn’t get any splinters. On the contrary, the surface was actually reasonably smooth.

I was about to stand in it when it crossed my mind that perhaps, It wouldn’t be the best idea to stamp my muddy footprints on the place that I may have needed to sleep on for a while. Changing the course of my feet at the last minute, I sat down on it. It wasn’t comfy, but I had known that from the moment I laid eyes on it. The wood was cold against me, but not unpleasant. It wouldn’t be a bad place to stay during the daytime. The night would be a different matter though; it was going to be freezing cold, enough to chill my bones without the proper coverage.

Suddenly, I wasn’t that tired anymore. I had work to do, preparing my new home.

My home. (could put in italics?)

I liked the sound of that, it made me feel in control.

On my own.


**********************

Much of the rest of the day was spent retrieving items that I perceived to have some form of use, and placing them into the no longer empty bin. Soon, it was overflowing with the strangest collection of items; sheets of newspaper that I hoped would warm me when I slept, two packets of unopened chewing gum (I knew to ration these), a black glove, a book and many more things I had scrounged from the sides of the streets.

I went (chose another word, maybe wandered?)back to my little home under the bridge at about six in the evening. It was already dark, and I had struggled to find my way back. (reword because back is too close to the other back)Having not slept for the past two days, I felt completely drained. Would I be able to sleep tonight, in an unusual place, with all the sounds of the town around me? I supposed I would have to, after all, if I was tired enough it wouldn’t be such a great feat. I would get used to it soon enough, I hoped.

I reached gently into my bin, and after searching for a few minutes, I found what I was looking for. I withdrew the newspaper carefully and took it with me back to the crate. It wouldn’t cover the whole of me and I would need to see if I could find a rug sooner rather than later as the nights were cold and often wet.

Drawing the sheets around me as tightly as I could, I scuffled down into the best lying position that was possible, given the confined space.

I shuffled under the newspaper, I was right about the lack of protection it gave me, but I was glad there was something covering me all the same. I rolled over to try and get comfy; I kept rolling onto hard stones on the walkway and having to constantly brush my hand vigorously beneath me. I shut my eyes and let the night close in around me.


Overall, you have a lot of potential and this story is terrific.
Feel free to PM me if you ever need anything. Ta.
Georgie xXxXx :P
Today im happier than a bird with a french fry ;)




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At this point, I'm not sure whether to compare your story to Cinderella or My Side of the Mountain.

You're going to have to choose. I have absolutely no idea where this story is going, and, while mystery is great, all this seems to be so far is a tangled mass of plots that you tried to string together for the sake of indecision. By the third chapter, one should at least have a vague sense of what the paramount conflict is in the story, and the contradictions that are presented with each chapter lead me to a different conclusion each time. It feels like all this is is a collection of short, tenuously related blobs of flash-fiction squished together and labelled as chapters. Forgive me, but that's how I feel. Don't be discouraged, though. I can't suggest a remedy to this issue quite yet, seeing as I'm only two chapters in and don't yet have much of an idea of what must take priority in the storyline, but I will hopefully be able to aid you come my review for the next chapter. Not to say you can't figure it out yourself - clearly, you're a very capable writer, and I do not doubt your abilities.

The next problem I'd like to discuss is somewhat related to the one mentioned prior. I've seen this issue recur on countless occasions throughout my time on the site, and it is quite evident here. The issue is that each chapter begins in a completely new and unfamiliar place in the story, instead of leaving off where the last chapter did. This is okay when used sparsely, but when you continue to do this, chapter after chapter (I peeked ahead, and it seems like the trend continues through at least chapter five), it tends to become annoying, because the reader has to figure out what is going on each time you transition. This only adds to the sense of aimlessness that I was talking about earlier.

See, I don't even really know what compelled Ash to run away the way she did. You say it was because Ash would have to "follow Megan around for the next ten or so years" (While I'm at it, it should be "...the next ten years or so."), but this makes no sense. I saw no evidence of Ash ever having to follow her around at all in the earlier chapters - in fact, it seemed like Megan was the one trying to connect with Ash. Megan seemed kind, while Ash seemed cold. I would really appreciate it if you actually decide on an emotion you want her to feel toward her sister and stick with it for now, thanks.

One of my biggest critiques, however, is the fact that Ash's personality itself has changed dramatically since chapter two. To illustrate my point, I'll pull a quote out of the last chapter, then compare it with a quote from this one.
My birthdays had never been a big event to me. Although I loved having everyone around, I wasn’t keen on being the centre of attention. Days never revolved around me, and I was used to that, it made me uncomfortable to be sat there with everyone’s eyes on me. I had always been the quiet one, the one who hung around with people who overshadowed me. Nobody tended to notice when I was there, I was always the extra person in the background.

That was how I liked it. Like a fly on the wall. Seeing but never needing to be seen.

As opposed to:
It was time to stand on my own two feet and stop letting others do all the heavy lifting work for me.

This was my time.

Direct contradictions. These things are relatively easy to spot. You have nothing to exonerate this discrepancy - no character development, no transition. How is it possible that Ash could go from the person who likes being overshadowed to the person who refuses to be overshadowed in a matter of one chapter? You don't even reference the fact that Ash used to be that way, as if you were hoping that we wouldn't notice. But, like I said, incongruities shine like red lights in an analytical eye.

So. I hope this helped, and I'll get to the next chapter as soon as I can.

-Kafka
#TNT

WRFF




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You're descriptions are very vivid and descriptive. Very nicely done, first of all! I like how you say "it made my feel in control." It really gives the reader a feeling of how smothered the girl has felt all these long years and how she yearns for independence.

However, there are some things to fix here.

A lot of your sentences are run ons, and they are two independent clauses joined together by only a comma. Here is one:

I walked determinedly for hours, trying not to let a single negative thought enter my head although my hands were numb with the cold and my breath came out in icy gasps as I crunched through the frosted leaves along the road.

This is a long sentence that could be broken down a little. There are more, but I'm sure you can find them.

And, when she finds there's something in her pocket, you could elaborate. What did that lump feel like? Most likely hard and crumpled up.

I like what you're doing. I would tell you to keep it up, but you've written most of it, if not all of this novel. Good work!
"Which came first? The Phoenix or the flame?"

-H.P. Deathly Hallows




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I don't feel I have a lot to contribute here, but I do feel that this is the chapter you could work on the most when it comes to editing. I haven't read either of the stories that Kafka has referred to here so I'm afraid I'm no help on that front whatsoever. It might be good if she could run into someone on the streets, whether it be friend, stranger or foe, this could really help to extend the chapter a little, and maybe create a sense of how Ashling converses with people, considering that's the thing we haven't read much about yet.
Either that, or you need to introduce a character where she can have a long conversation with them in the next few pages.
Stay writing and reviewing!!
TEAM TARDIS!
We are the dreamers of dreams and the makers of music



A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.
— Franz Kafka