Young Writers Society

Prologue
10 years ago

Grandfather was a bit of an odd man, but I loved him and never believed when the kids at school called him crazy. Sometimes though, he said things that confused me. Like the day when I had gone down to the creek in the woods on my own. I had never been without him. I never went anywhere in the woods alone, but I thought that I was grown up and brave enough to try. As I was walking by the water with my shoes off, he had come busting through the trees with a look on his face that scared me. Because he looked afraid and Grandfather wasn't scared of anything. Beside me, a shadow I hadn't noticed before suddenly disappeared, and it confused me because there was nothing there to cast a shadow.

When Grandfather finally saw me through the low branches, relief flooded his face. He gathered me in his arms not even bothering to get my shoes. Silently he carried me all the way back to the house, and set me down on the couch. In that moment Grandfather looked at me in a way that was not his usual loving way. In his eyes was a fiery passion and barely controlled frustration. His eyes were hard and his mouth set, but he wasn't mad, at least not at me. He looked as if there was something important he wanted to say but he didn't know how.

When he finally spoke his voice changed and became one that was not his, but belonged to him all the same. It wasn't the voice of the Grandfather she knew but like a different man, one from long ago, “There are things that hide in the dark Lissiana. They wait for you, innocent and naive. One day you will be able to face them. One day you will no longer be blind to the horrors of the world. You will see that everything you believe in is false, but being ignorant will lead to your death.” he sighed and ran a thin hand through his graying hair. When he continued he was the man she knew once again, “But today is not that day. Nor will tomorrow be. As a child you will not see. I made sure of that. But Lissi, you must promise me that you will not go into the woods without me.

Stunned at the side of him I had never seen I could only say, “ Yes Grandfather. I promise.”

He seemed to take that as acceptable because he nodded and said, “ I can only protect you if I am there, but I will keep you safe until I die.” As he walked away I thought I heard him whisper something that sounded like “again.” But that didn't make sense. Even into my years as a teenager I kept my promise. I never went into the woods without Grandfather. Maybe, it was because in my heart I already knew about the bad things.

What I never knew though, was that my grandfathers cryptic warning to a confused six year old would be the beginning into a life filled with secrets and monsters that waited in the dark.
Chapter 1

The priest was going on about the great life Grandfather had. All of his accomplishments, the great things he had done. Maybe the man thought he was making everyone feel better. That by reminding us of what we lost, we wouldn't be so sad. But I wasn't paying attention anyway. My focus was on Grandfather.

He was so still. He was always so active that even in sleep he was restless, but now he didn't move. His skin was so white, and when I had touched his cheek earlier, so cold. His hands were delicately crossed over his chest in a way that almost seemed peaceful. As if he were merely sleeping, but Grandfather never slept like that. He was always turning, twisting, awakening to the slightest noise. Everything about this was wrong. I had the urge to run from the room, but I was rooted in place. Because I felt like Grandfather was not gone. At least, not forever.

I know it sounds crazy. I didn't feel as if he is still here like some cheesy ghost movie. I knew he was gone. Dead. But it felt like he was coming back.

I hated that he was here in this place, but he wanted it like that. The church looked fake to me. Grandfather had gone every Sunday but I never did. The ceiling was impossibly high and crystal chandeliers hung everywhere. The walls were just white and behind the numerous rows of pews was a balcony with even more pews. The town was of medium size, but this was just ridiculous. Grandfather never said much about his trips to church, he never prayed before meals, he didn't own a single bible, but whatever it was that went on here he believed in it with a fierce passion, that much was clear. I never saw the point in it. I believed that there was something out there but I had no desire to come close to it. For some reason I felt like whoever it was had personally insulted me.

The list of relatives left behind was a short one. I was the only family he had, and he was mine. My parents had died when I was a baby and his wife long before then. He never talked about them. He always told my never to dig for the past, because what was buried was intended to stay that way. Whenever he said that his face turned grave and he would sit in his study for hours alone. I know that something had happened to make Grandfather like that. He was usually so happy and unworried, but I never asked where he went when he was drawn into the world of his thoughts.


Finally the service was over and it was time for the burial. I drove behind the hearse and watched as the other drivers pulled over to the side of the road. It bewildered me how this world respected the dead, but had no care for life as they watched theirs go by smoking and drinking.

The cemetery had no effect on anyone in the afternoon sun. The graves were broken and crumbled where Grandfather was buried because they were so old. All of the newer ones were out front but Grandfather never was one to be in the spotlight. The preachers wife sang a song that I didn't listen too and then it was over. Just like that people were moving out, already forgetting the old man they had just buried.

“Honey I'm sorry for your loss. But look on the bright side, your grandfather is in a better place now. He's with the good Lord,” Miss Laurel was an overweight woman in her forties. She always went out of her way to be nice, but I really didn't care about being polite right then. Still, I couldn't forget the good manners Grandfather had always been so strict about.

So I said, “Yes Miss Laurel, thank you.” and nodded politely, but she wasn't done yet.

“You are so young. Who will take care of you now?” I really hated it when people didn't mind their own business, but I reminded myself that she wasn't trying to be annoying. It just came out that way.

“Umm..my grandfather put it in his will that if anything happened to him as long as I was sixteen I would become an emancipated minor. Of course someone will check up on me every two months.”


“Oh. How will you live?” She was really starting to get on my nerves.

“Grandfather was not poor by any means, but I don't get any of that until I turn eighteen. He did leave me a substantial amount in my own account though.” We were rich by the definition but we didn't flaunt it. I had a small wardrobe from the local Walmart and the most expensive thing I owned was my laptop. I didn't see the point in throwing money around. Finally she got the point, and off she went with her two kids in tow.

I looked around, and sighed inwardly. There was a line waiting to talk to me. I had hardly had a whole conversation with half of these people, and the other half hadn't talked to at all. When the service had began I was bewildered at the amount of people there. Neither Grandfather or I had been very social. We weren't rude, but we avoided human contact unless it was each other or our house maid Ranora, who we both adored.

Everyone touched my arms and whispered their condolences, but no one really meant it. At least they didn't say more than I few words. I could not deal with another Miss Laurel. These people never knew Grandfather. They saw him as the quiet old man who sat in the back pew on Sunday and left without saying a word. To some he was the crazy old man who lived in the boardinghouse in the woods, all alone except for his strange granddaughter. But no one, not a single person besides me knew him to be the man he was. A loving man who took on his infant grandchild to raise even in his old age. A man who kissed scrapes when I fell off my bike, but pushed me to learn self defense. Someone who smelled like the old leather books that lined his study, and had the heart of a child behind his wrinkly eyes. My only family, the only one who ever loved me. The only person who I ever loved. In my mind they didn't have the right to care.

I couldn't hate these people for not loving him like I did. They were never given the chance, but still I felt as if I were the only person in the world that had seen something wonderful. Hate was a
useless emotion anyway, but I did want them to leave, to take their pity somewhere else. I wanted to be left alone with Grandfather because I was the only one who would cry tonight as I climbed in bed.

I waited as the last person climbed in their car and drive away. I watched until the finally took the last turn that would lead them from my sight. Then I turned around where the mound off dirt was, where my grandfather was. I sat down beside him and closed my eyes. If I concentrated really hard and blocked out the world around me I could see it. I wasn't sitting beside Grandfathers grave anymore. I was on the couch beside him, both of us reading a book in comfortable silence. Candlelight flickered across the pages because Grandfather didn't like artificial light. I could feel the smooth leather of the couch against my skin and the smooth cover of my book in my hands.

A tear slid down my cheek as I opened my eyes. It was the first time I cried since he had died. I was really going to miss him. And so I sat there in the grass for hours, disregarding my clothing and watched the sun stretch across the sky. Finally when it went behind the trees, and I could only see by the stray rays of light, I got up.

As I stood there I looked around. The crumbling graves looked eerie in the fading light but it didn't bother me. I stood there but I didn't move. This was the part in the books where the monster came out. I waited knowing that no matter how crazy I sounded, someone was out there watching me. For a moment I thought it might have just been a way for my mind to use my overactive imagination to cope with the death of the only person close to me, but that was a false hope. My gut twisted and their was such an overwhelming sense of wrongness that it brought tears to my eyes.

But then something broke inside of me. The scene seemed familiar, like a movie I had watched too much. I was calm as if somehow I had known what would happen. Like it had happened before, or had been planned. I saw a shadow. A black smokey figure that seemed to be everywhere at once and no where. I wasn't afraid. Deep inside I did know what was coming. And I would not meet it with fear in my heart.

First there was the sensation of someone running their fingers along my spine, but there was nothing there. Then it was a crawling along my skin that felt like bugs were slowly covering me from head to toe. I could still feel the warm air against my skin but chill spread inside me and left everything cold. It felt like black fingers reached inside me and gripped my heart, then started slowly squeezing the life out of me. Fire seemed to be spreading through every part of my body. If the unknown force hadn't kept me standing straight, I would have collapsed. Drained of almost all of my strength I couldn't fight back. All those years of self defense, a black belt in karate, and I was helpless to save myself. But then there was nothing to fight. I seemed to be completely alone.

This isn't how its supposed to happen, I thought to myself. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes, there was no white light on the horizon, everything in my life didn't come to sudden clarity. Nothing except the growing realization that I was going to die ran through my mind.

Then suddenly the pain wasn't as bad. Maybe I was finally going numb. This had to be it. The end. I was grateful for it because surely I had thought that my death would stretch into eternity; never-ending. But no, I wasn't dying. I could feel my strength rising, somehow fighting off my impending doom. How I had no idea, but it seemed like someone had given me a jump start, or someone was fighting through me, using my body to fight because I wasn't doing anything I was aware of.

Whatever had been killing me was now receding. I could physically feel it pull back, one step at a time. The thudding of my heart as it was released from the invisible fist. The crawling slowly stopped and finally after an immeasurable time period it was gone completely. I stood there exactly as I had before the attack because through the whole thing I had not been able to move my body even an inch. Whatever it was though lived on in my memory. I could still feel the ghost fingers on my spine and inside I felt cold, like when it left it had ripped something out with it. I was violated and empty and suddenly all of my bravery faded. While I hadn't been scared before, I was now terrified.

Everything inside me went into over drive trying to explain it, to heal myself, to do anything besides just sit there. I guess it was just to much. My vision started going black around the edges and I swayed a little before I fell. Right before I blacked out I saw a black figure move at inhuman speed to my side. I don't remember hitting the ground. It might have been because I passed out before I finished falling, or it might have been because the strange man caught me.

I woke up in my room at the boardinghouse in my bed. The plain wood walls and the plush white carpet was familiar and comforting. My black bedspread was pulled over me, and I was tucked in just like I'd always wished my mother would do when I was little. I had a stuffed brown bear Grandfather had given me for Christmas one year on a shelf beside my bed. My computer on the work desk on the wall be the door. A bookshelf that stretched from wall to wall on my left and a black beanbag chair on my right.

All of these things I had woken up to everyday of my life almost, and each item help a place in my heart. This room was a home within a home. The boardinghouse was special but this room was mine. The one thing in my life that wasn't shared one bit. Anytime there had been something in my life that seemed to be to hard to bear, this room had provided a sanctuary.

Today though it was nothing but a room because I remembered everything. I had come face to face with death and a room couldn't come to my rescue. It was nothing more than an enclosure. Something that put a thin wall between me and the rest of the world. That would not be enough to protect me from the things that could hurt me.

Then I realized something that I should have first off. I wouldn't have walked all of the way from the cemetery home and there was no memory of driving, but when I looked out my window my SUV was right there in the driveway where it always was. Then I remembered the glimpse of the stranger who had caught me. Maybe he had carried me home. But why would he take me home, tuck me in, and take care of me? The people in this town where nice enough when there was a crowd, but I can't think of one person who would do that out of the kindness of his heart.

With a start I realized that he could still be here. I walked over to my desk and reached over my computer. Strapped to the back side of desk was a knife. It was beautiful, and for a moment I marveled at it. A smooth bone white handle that flowed into a double edged blade and ended with a sharp point and malicious gleam. Grandfather had instilled a strong belief in me that there were things that could hurt me, and that a smart girl would learn to protect herself. I did. Since I was eight years old I had taken some sort of self defense or karate. He never knew about the knife. When I was twelve I had found one in the living room on the inside of the chimney. That day I had scoured every room in the house and found that it had some sort of weapon hidden. In one of the empty rooms there was a sword in the closet that had been to big for me to pick up. I decided that if he was cautious enough for that then I should be too. I bought the knife the next day, but had yet to have use of it.

I eased out of my room quietly hoping not to give sign that I was up. My room was on the second floor, so sneaking down was always a problem. The house was old and the steps creaky, but I knew just where to place my feet to be as silent as a ghost. At the bottom of the stairs you could either turned left into the living room, right into the kitchen, or straight to walk out the front door. I went left.

As soon as I entered the room I stopped. Someone was watching me again. I lowered my eyes to the ground and then closed them. I knew where he was. In the movies they always look back, then left and right. The audience screams at the victim to see the villain because its so painfully obvious. They never look up. I raised my eyes and sure enough there he was. Clinging to the ceiling god knows how, he had on an old duster and shoulder length black hair covered his face.

No sooner than I looked up he jumped down. Right on top of me. But I was fast and I moved out of the way before he hit me. He landed on his feet and was on me again in seconds. His speed was impossibly non-human. I couldn't see his movements, but I felt them. Some inner part of me knew what he was going to do and I deflected each of his blows. Somehow my knife had ended up across the room
so I had only myself to use as a weapon.

I was doing good until suddenly he was behind me and his hand pressed hard into the small of
my back. It was like a shock wave went up my spine and I crumpled to the ground. When I was finally able to move again I looked up at him, and I was startled by what I saw. I expected to see malice, anger, or even hatred. Instead it was only curiosity. He looked at me as if seizing me up, and I didn't like it one bit. But when I looked at him, I mean really looked at him, I was shocked speechless.

His black hair was board-straight, and barley brushed his shoulders. He had chiseled features and a deep tan, but his eyes were impossibly black. Not dark brown but black. I couldn't tell his pupil from his iris. My gave traveled down, past his defined neck and broad shoulders. Under his duster he had on a black T-shirt that clung to him in ways that any girl would respect. Black jeans were topped off with, of course, black combat boots. Everything about him screamed dangerous, but I just noticed the part that screamed HOT, all caps.

He held his hand out to help me up, but no matter how hot he was, I remembered that two minutes ago he had attacked me. I got up on my own and slowly walked to where the knife lay, across the room. I bent down and picked it up, never taking my eyes off of him. He laughed softly.

“You know, a weapon is not to your advantage. I'm faster and stronger than you. I could take your little knife and use it against you. You must rely on your own skills. Your body must be your weapon, and eventually your mind.” His voice was dark and persuasive, but I only tightened my grip on the knife. This whole thing with the cemetery, and the speed, and the mysterious dude was going cheesy-vampire-movie way to fast. I slightly shifted me stance into one where I could jump at him easily. Something glinted in his eyes and his smile was knowing. “Always the fighter. Let me explain before you try to attack me again, and I have to restrain you.”

It sounded as if he had read my mind, but that was impossible. Still I felt violated, but I let him go on because he was right. I wouldn't be able to fight him off, but I couldn't stop my impulsive urge to move towards the fireplace where the other knife was stashed. If he indeed did take my knife then I would have a backup, but I nodded for him to start.

“First we have to go to your grandfather's study. The story start there.”

Oh my goodness, that was good! So excellently written and gripping... I really enjoyed this!
No nitpicks- I noticed a few spelling errors but nothing major.
Looking forward to reading more, hopefully soon!
-Briggsy

Quite interesting, I can't wait to see what happens next. You developed the main character really well. The only major thing I noticed was a in the third paragraph for one sentence you seem to switch tenses. You use 'she' where I think you meant to use 'I'. There are a few spelling mistakes, but nothing that made it hard to read. Good Work!

Hey Writer!

Nitpicks:

Grandfather was a bit of an odd man, but I loved him and never believed when the kids at school called him crazy. Sometimes though, he said things that confused me. Like the day when I had gone (went) down to the creek in the woods on my own. I had never [b]been (gone) without him. I never went anywhere in the woods alone, but I thought that I was grown up and brave enough to try.[/b] As I was walking by the water with my shoes off, he had come (came) busting through the trees with a look on his face that scared me. Because he looked afraid and Grandfather wasn't scared of anything. Beside me, a shadow I hadn't noticed before suddenly disappeared, and it confused me because there was nothing there to cast a shadow.

First underline: Both of these sentences say the same thing. Get rid of one.
Second underline: Add this to the sentence before it. You don't need a comma or anything to separate it.

Silently he (He silently) carried me all the way back to the house,

In that moment, Grandfather looked at me in a way that was not his usual loving way.

Don't really like the repetition of 'way'.

When he finally spoke his voice changed and became one that was not his, but belonged to him all the same. It wasn't the voice of the Grandfather she knew but like a different man, one from long ago,

These two sentences say the same thing. I would delete the first one because the second one is more clear.

“There are things that hide in the dark Lissiana. They wait for you, innocent and naive. One day you will be able to face them. One day you will no longer be blind to the horrors of the world. You will see that everything you believe in is false, but being ignorant will lead to your death.” he sighed and ran a thin hand through his graying hair. When he continued he was the man she knew once again, “But today is not that day. Nor will tomorrow be. As a child you will not see. I made sure of that. But Lissi, you must promise me that you will not go into the woods without me.

Suuuuuper intriguing. Reminds me of The Village (I think?) a little.

Stunned at the side of him I had never seen I could only say,

Sentences like this are a general pet peeve of mine. Make it more of an active sentence. "I was stunned at this side of him and could only say,..."

in my heart I already knew about the bad things.

I feel like "that live there" or "that reside there" should be added to the end of this sentence.

What I never knew though, was that my grandfathers cryptic warning to a confused six year old would be the beginning into a life filled with secrets and monsters that waited in the dark.

Very intriguing.

He was so still. He was always so active that even in sleep he was restless, but now he didn't move.

I feel like this may be a theme throughout. I would change all of this into present tense. You will engage your reader a lot more. Instead of feeling like they're reading about a story, they'll feel like they're a part of the story. If I see more instances throughout, I won't pick them all out (unless you're confused and want me to).

I hated that he was here in this place, but he wanted it like that (this).

The walls were just white and behind the numerous rows

The list of relatives left behind was a[s] short [s]one.

I was the only family he had, and he was mine.

He was mine, sounds a little odd to me. I think I get what you're saying but it's worded funny to me.

My parents had died when I was a baby and his wife long before then (them).

Finally the service was over and it was time for the burial.

I think this would sound better, more active. "When the service was finally over, it was time for the burial."

I had[/b[ hardly had a whole conversation with half of these people,

but I [b]did want (wanted) them to leave, to take their pity somewhere else.

I wanted to be left alone with Grandfather because I was the only one who would cry tonight as I climbed in bed.

The last part of this sentence sounds odd to me. I get what you're trying to say, but I think you could take it out. You've already said that no one understands or is really sad about it like the grand daughter is.

I watched until the (they) finally took the last turn that would lead them from my sight.

I wasn't sitting beside Grandfather's grave anymore.

I guess it was just too much.

Then I realized something that I should have first off.

This sounds odd to me but I'm not sure what to do about it. Maybe something like "A startling realization came to mind"

My gave (gaze) traveled down, past his defined neck

but I just noticed the part that screamed HOT, all caps.

He held his hand out to help me up, but no matter how hot (attractive) he was,

I'd go with "attractive" here because you already said "hot" above.

and the mysterious dude was going cheesy-vampire-movie way to (too) fast.

I slightly shifted me (my) stance into one where I could jump at him easily.

The story start (starts) there.”

You're a good writer, the story is really intriguing and I liked all of the description. The only big problem I have, is that it's not very engaging. I don't feel anything for the characters and the plot seems to just be hopping along. I want to feel my heart race when the narrator encounters this guy. I want to feel like I'm a part of the story.

One way you can do this, is by putting it in the present tense. That way, your reader will feel like they're in the story instead of just reading about something that happened. You have great descriptions and an interesting plot already so this story has a lot of potential. I just want to feel more engaged.

Let me know if you have any questions or if you need anything else!

-Carly

That. Was. Amazing!!! You did a really awesome job! My review probably won't help much... Since I'm just telling you how good your work is. But is really is wonderful writing with nothing wrong with it. I loved this! Keep writing this story, I wanna know what happens. Your descriptions are beautiful and I feel like I really am in the main characters shoes and can see what she sees and everything! Tell me when you post the next chapter.

Okay, so first off I just wanted to apologize for taking so long to get here!

Anyways on to the review...

You are a really talented writer! That came across clear in your writing. You had very nice descriptive words, and your character had a very strong voice. I really like your style!
The story was also very interesting! Especially at the end... I was hooked and can't wait to read the next chapter (;

As far as your actual writing and plot development, character development, etc etc.. I think it is perfect! The story is moving at a perfect pace and I am really liking the main character/ narrator.
There were some grammatical errors that I did find while reading, however. Most of them were simple typos. Just go back and re-read your story, and you should see them. If you need help finding the typos (I know a lot of the time I will just read over mine) I can go back and point them out to you.
Also, in your third paragraph you just switched to third person and started using "she" instead of "I". That threw me off. I suggest going back and quickly fixing that

Anyways, aside from the grammar issues, I thought this was an amazing story! Really, really well written. I enjoyed it!
Keep up the talented writing ;D!!

The previous posts covered most of the critiquing, but I noticed a few.

Grandfather was a bit of an odd man, but I loved him and never believed [it] when the kids at school called him crazy.

He gathered me in his arms[,] not even bothering to get my shoes.

and set [sat] me down on the couch. (Just a suggestion, but I think 'sat' reads easier.)

“There are things that hide in the dark[,] Lissiana. {The comma clarifies this sentence. As they say, there's a comma's difference between "Let's eat, Grandma" and "Let's eat Grandma.")

They wait for you, innocent and naive. (This makes it sound like whatever is waiting is innocent and naive. Consider something like this: "They wait for someone as innocent and naive as you.")

Stunned at the side of him I had never seen (This reads a bit awkwardly. Consider revising.) I could only say, “Yes Grandfather. I promise.”

he didn't own a single [B]ible,

Interesting story. I liked the setup, and it was well-written. You showed Lissi's transition from innocent little girl to somewhat jaded young woman quite well. Overall, very nice! Keep up the good work!

Hey, I have come to review! I'm a little reviewed out so my review might not be up to scratch. Personally I think you should have posted the prologue and the chapter separately for easy reading.

Grandfather was a bit of an odd man,

Nice telling sentence, great way to start but you could get rid of the comma, it would make a great stand alone sentence really put emphasis on what you want to say.

Your character has quite a nice voice, not the sort of voice I give my characters. She ( I think its a she) seems rather detached though, the use of 'grandfather' is not helping. 'Grandfather' is an impersonal term, a name gives one humanity, i know he wasn't in the story for long but to make the grief of the MC seem more genuine this might have to change, but its your choice.

What I never knew though, was that my grandfathers cryptic warning to a confused six year old would be the beginning into a life filled with secrets and monsters that waited in the dark.

Nice finish, it seems a little clung and long though. Try tightening and shortening the sentence.

The funeral scene is great, nice imagery, the voice seems more 'real' here like a teenage girl. Just a little more tightening, get rid of words that are not needed to change the pace to your likening.

The list of relatives left behind was a short one.

Nice line.

The preachers wife sang a song that I didn't listen too and then it was over. Just like that people were moving out, already forgetting the old man they had just buried.

I like this but you can use the sentence structure, rhythm, tone, pace, etc. to reflect what is really going on. ' The preachers wife sang a sad lament. Then it was over. Just like that, people where moving out, already forgetting the man they just buried.' Just a example, short phrases and sentences to reflect your content.

I like the meeting of the people, its fantastic, very telling with out showing, its awesome. Your character, again, seems more real then she did in the beginning. Some of it could do with reorganizing but that will come with later re-reads.

I waited knowing that no matter how crazy I sounded, someone was out there watching me.

All a bit sudden for me. Maybe something leading up, like a sound or something to indicate a watching being, something read world rather than internal thought. Just a sentence will do.

It felt like black fingers reached inside me and gripped my heart

sounds awkward.It felt like black fingers had reached inside me and gripped my heart. Then again I know nothing about grammar.

I general this actions sequence could do with more, you use internal monologue and internal feeling quite a lot, try branching out into the other senses; like sight, sound, smell and taste.

i like the room description, just 'black bedspread' tells so much. Lovely imagery with the knife. I also love the movie references, keep them coming.

But I was fast and I moved out of the way before he hit me.

You have the potential to make this really exciting and thrilling. Action does not always need to be a sequence of happenings. Don't show but tell use the world around your character to tell the story, their feelings rather than their actions.

His black hair was board-straight, and barley brushed his shoulders. He had chiseled features and a deep tan, but his eyes were impossibly black. Not dark brown but black. I couldn't tell his pupil from his iris. My gave traveled down, past his defined neck and broad shoulders. Under his duster he had on a black T-shirt that clung to him in ways that any girl would respect. Black jeans were topped off with, of course, black combat boots. Everything about him screamed dangerous, but I just noticed the part that screamed HOT, all caps.

Straight poetry description, honestly I don't like this sort of stuff, I'm guilt of it myself but theses days I like to drop hints rather that go straight out like this. When you do this you lock your character down to a 'look', its all a little Twilight, and the quality of your character at risk. A little description is good, but a whole paragraph no.


He sounds a lot like my Alcoholic Wizard, Wolife, in another one of my pet projects.

He held his hand out to help me up, but no matter how hot he was, I remembered that two minutes ago he had attacked me. I got up on my own and slowly walked to where the knife lay, across the room. I bent down and picked it up, never taking my eyes off of him. He laughed softly.

This is more telling than your whole description, here you have capture personality with out saying 'blah blah is a meanie, or a serious dude'.

I love the ending line, pure awesome.

Oh I am hooked. I have to read the rest. It took me a while to read this, but it's just simply awesome!!! I can't pick out any grammatical errors, because I was focused on the detail. And the way you drew the reader in. good job!! Seriously, I am so happy you wanted me to read this!!! I am going to get around to reading your other chapters, if there are some.

Here at last, 97! Sorry it took me so long! I'm wishing now I'd gotten this sooner, because this was so many flavors of wonderful.

So far, it seems as if you've gotten a lot of nitpicks and editing comments. You probably know that's not really my style. Those two things into account, I'll skip that and go for more general comments. Beginning with what I absolutely loved about this, because you deserve to know.

And what I absolutely loved about this was the tone and the pacing, the atmosphere of it. While it may deter some, I adored the slower pacing employed here. It added a level of credibility and depth to the narration that might have been absent had you opted for the crowd-pleasing lightning-pace currently favored.

The tone... it was dark, it was rich, it was Old World and slightly mystical. Felt like an autumn evening in rural east Europe at a cafe with rickety seats but delicious food. Or, perhaps, more like a gondola ride through the parts of Venice tourists never see.

On top of that, or perhaps strung through it, there was the voice of the narrator. That voice resonated with me. For one thing, it was authentic. It had a sense of character and self. First person narrators have a tendency to be typical, to be author insertions, to be boring. Theorists suspect this is how Twilight became so popular, because suddenly any female could find some way to relate to Bella, because she was just this mass of typicalness. But your narrator here is not that, and it shows in the way she speaks and the way she presents itself.

I don't know how aware you are of just how typical this piece could have been. Girl not living with parents, girl wanted or otherwise wrapped up in some extra-ordinary circumstance, girl on own, girl meets ridiculous hot guy. I've read that before, and it's still being produced and published all over the place. But this didn't feel like that. Rather than a story shoved into a proven formula, it feels like a story that just so happens has some similar plot points. Didn't bother me. The fact that she was a black belt and odd didn't bother me. And it didn't bother me because the pacing was perfect, the tone was alluring, the narration was real and true. I felt for her when she was there at the funeral. I felt for her and I believed what she said. I don't typically feel for narrators in that way, especially not first person ones, especially not female ones, especially not in the first chapter.

And that's why I absolutely loved this. Please don't stop writing this, and please keep writing in general. You write with a clarity and beauty that is astounding and wonderful, so never stop.

With that rampant but well-deserved praise out of my system, I am now feeling ready to tell you what I didn't like about this, what could be improved, and what to keep in mind as you go forward.

(A bit of advice before I forget it. Don't forget to proofread before you post. Read it aloud to yourself to catch strange phrasing and small errors the eyes tend to glance over. Doing this will spare you from getting critiques that catch your typos and missing commas but nothing more.)

The main thing that stood out to me in this piece were the words and phrases that broke the tone. It would be going on smoothly, like melted chocolate (a personal favorite of mine), and then splat. Something would creep in, throw off the tone. I'd be sad, frown, mutter, go back in, forget about it, be lulled along again, then splat.

Here was the first splat:

I didn't feel as if he is still here like some cheesy ghost movie

On a style note, there's a tense inconsistency there. Main concern for me, though, is the 'cheesy ghost movie', in particular the word 'cheesy.' Suddenly it dropped from sophisticated and rich to tangy and shallow. Part of me doesn't even like the comparison, because it doesn't feel as honest as the other, too aware of what the reader'd want to hear, not actually what she means. Not to mention, the reference to such a specifically modern and developed thing brought me out of backstreet Venice and into the realm of the trendy, urban, tongue-in-cheek, sarcastic.

In the movies they always look back, then left and right. The audience screams at the victim to see the villain because its so painfully obvious.

This reference to the movies bugged me less, but still some. I couldn't say why...perhaps it's more of the context, and I want to know how she knows to look up instead of how no one in a movie ever does. How is the character in a movie relevant to her current situation?

His black hair was board-straight, and barley brushed his shoulders. He had chiseled features and a deep tan, but his eyes were impossibly black. Not dark brown but black. I couldn't tell his pupil from his iris. My gave traveled down, past his defined neck and broad shoulders. Under his duster he had on a black T-shirt that clung to him in ways that any girl would respect. Black jeans were topped off with, of course, black combat boots. Everything about him screamed dangerous, but I just noticed the part that screamed HOT, all caps.

I'm at war over myself with this paragraph. I picked it out because of the last sentence, which is another splat. The "HOT, all caps," made it sound like a typical teenage paranormal fantasy because it's what two females on IM would say when discussing a hot guy or text to each other. It's such a flip from the other descriptions, an intrusion from a different realm that sounded like your character wasn't apart of, another catering to the reader.

I have one of the lowest tolerances for romantic smoochy smolder of anyone I've ever met, and I take it as a testament to the strength of your tone, the narrator's voice, and the description that was snow that I didn't roll my eyes and partially bought it instead. But watch out for paragraphs like this in the future, and don't forget to show. Not necessarily in describing everything about him in tiny detail, but in terms of the interaction between them. What he says and how he says it and what he doesn't say, etc, and how she reacts to it. Though I didn't necessarily believe this was the sexiest man under the sun from your description, or really conjure up an image of some super hot beau, the way she talked about him and what she did (helping herself up) and the way she said it slowly convinced me that, at the very least, she is quite attracted to Mr. Mysterious. That is when show-don't-tell gets steamy.

In the next chapters, perhaps, I'll go into more detail on structure and technicalities. As I skim through again, I see things that I would have noticed the first time had I not been entranced by the story and the way you told it. For now, my concluding/summarizing advice is to guard against descriptions that aren't authentic and true to the narrator, especially ones that are just indulging the reader. They break the tone and believability.

Also, avoid typicalness in description and action. It's typical for Mr. Hot to have a smoldering gaze, this feature or that feature, so find what's hot about him in particular. Same goes for anything else. Never settle for the mundane, boring, expected.

Most importantly, write more. This is lovely. 82% dark chocolate on strawberries so.

Rach

Hello!
My name is em and I will be massacring your story today. Before I begin, I would like to apologize for any hurt feelings/resentment/murderous desires you may feel after I tear you work to shreds with my grammatical evils and harsh opinions. Also, I would like to warn you that my reviews are not for the light-hearted. Futhermore, I would like to ask you for forgiveness and to not hate me as a person because I was so brutally honest whilst reviewing your paper. Hope this does not ruin your day...
and without further adieu, I will begin your review:

Prologue
10 years ago

Grandfather was a bit of an odd man, but I loved him and never believed when the kids at school who called him crazy. Sometimes though, he said things that confused me. Like the day when I had gone went down to the creek in the woods on my own. I had never been without him. I never went anywhere in the woods alone, but I thought that I was grown up and brave enough to try. As I was walking walked by the water with my shoes off, he had come came bursting through the trees with a look on his face that scared me. Because he looked afraid and Grandfather wasn't scared of anything. Beside me, a shadow I hadn't noticed before suddenly disappeared, and it confused me because there was nothing there to cast a shadow.

When Grandfather finally saw me through the low branches, relief flooded his face. He gathered me in his arms not even bothering to get my shoes. Silently he carried me all the way back to the house, and set me down on the couch. In that moment Grandfather looked at me in a way that was not his usual loving way. In his eyes was a fiery passion and barely controlled frustration. His eyes were hard and his mouth set, but he wasn't mad, at least not at me. He looked as if there was something important he wanted to say but he didn't know how.

When he finally spoke his voice changed and became one that was not his, but belonged to him all the same. It wasn't the voice of the Grandfather she I knew but like a different man, one from long ago, “There are things that hide in the dark Lissiana. They wait for you, so (because at first I thought you meant the things were innocent and naive and I was SO confused) innocent and naive. One day you will be able to face them. One day you will no longer be blind to the horrors of the world. You will see that everything you believe in is false, but that being ignorant will lead to your death.” he sighed and ran a thin hand through his graying hair. When he continued he was the man she knew once again, “But today is not that day. Nor will is tomorrow be. As a child you will not see. I made sure of that. But Lissi, you must promise me that you will not go into the woods without me.

Stunned at by the side of him I had never seen before I could only say, “ Yes Grandfather. I promise.”

He seemed to take that as acceptable because he nodded and said, “I can only protect you if I am there, but I will keep you safe until I die.” As he walked away I thought I heard him whisper something that sounded like “again.” But that didn't make sense.
In any case, I kept my promise, even into my teenage years. Even into my years as a teenager I kept my promise. I never went into the woods without Grandfather. Maybe, it was because in my heart I already knew about the bad things.
What I never knew though, was that my grandfather’s cryptic warning to a confused six year old would be the beginning into of a life filled with secrets and monsters that waited in the dark. This first part is good. It caught my attention and made me keep reading. I especially like that last sentence. In my mind I was just like “ooh!” with goosebumps. You had a couple of oddly phrased sentences and I tried to fix them. Also, a couple of small grammatical things but overall, grammatically it was good. Story-wise, I am impressed so far.

Chapter 1
Why don’t you insert some dialogue here? Just a few sentences of the priest speaking about how great Grandfather was. Because I am beginning to find all the background monotonous. I know it’s necessary; that’s just a personal nitpick of mine. If you put too much background in the beginning, you’ll bore your readers. You want to catch their attention first, keep them guessing about what’s going on, and then hit them with the background. But don’t keep them guessing too long or else they’ll be confused, throw the book at the wall, and storm off in frustration. Sorry, I’m very picky... Feel free to ignore anything I say. In any case, on with the review...
The priest was going on about the great life Grandfather had. All of his accomplishments, the great things he had done. Maybe the man thought he was making everyone feel better. That by reminding us of what we lost, we wouldn't be so sad. But I wasn't paying attention anyway. My focus was on Grandfather.
He was so still. He was always so active that even in sleep he was restless, but now he didn't move. His skin was so white, and when I had touched his cheek earlier, so cold. His hands were delicately crossed over his chest in a way that almost seemed peaceful. As if he were merely sleeping, but Grandfather never slept like that. He was always turning, twisting, awakening to the slightest noise. Everything about this was wrong. I had the urge to run from the room, but I was rooted in place. Because I felt like Grandfather was not gone. At least, not forever.
I know it sounds crazy. I didn't feel as if he is still here like some cheesy ghost movie. I knew he was gone. Dead. But it felt like he was coming back.
I hated that he was here in this place, but he wanted it like that. The church looked fake to me. Grandfather had gone every Sunday but I never did. The ceiling was impossibly high and crystal chandeliers hung everywhere. They have crystal chandeliers but the walls are a plain white? Most churches have stained glass or something? Is this supposed to be an ordinary church? The walls were just white and behind the numerous rows of pews was a balcony with even more pews. The town was of medium size, but this was just ridiculous. Grandfather never said much about his trips to church, he never prayed before meals, he didn't own a single bible, but whatever it was that went on here he believed in it with a fierce passion, that much was clear. I never saw the point in it. I believed that there was something out there but I had no desire to come close to it. For some reason I felt like whoever it was had personally insulted me.
Whoa! Okay, so I need some transition from personal insult/Supreme Being to left behind list please because I was momentarily disoriented. Thanks. The list of relatives left behind was a short one. I was the only family he had, and he was mine. My parents had died when I was a baby and his wife “his wife”? Is she not Lissi’s Grandmother? It’s not really a big deal. Just food for thought. long before then. He never talked about them. He always told me never to dig for the past, because what was buried was intended to stay that way. Whenever he said that his face turned grave and he would sit in his study for hours alone. I know that something had happened to make Grandfather like that. He was usually so happy and unworried, but I never asked where he went when he was drawn into the world of his thoughts.
Finally the service was over and it was time for the burial. I drove behind the hearse and watched as the other drivers pulled over to the side of the road. It bewildered me how this world respected the dead, but had no care for life as they watched theirs go by smoking and drinking. Ooh. I dig this statement. ‘Tis a very good point.
The cemetery had no effect on anyone in the afternoon sun. The graves were broken and crumbled where Grandfather was buried because they were so old. All of the newer ones were out front but Grandfather never was one to be in the spotlight. The preacher’s wife sang a song that I didn't listen too and then it was over. Just like that people were moving out, already forgetting the old man they had just buried. I’m not sure if you know this, but I have noticed that you have had several mistakes having to do with homophones so I’m going to give you a mini-lesson:
-‘s shows possession
s means plural
to is for direction. Like going to the store.
too is for also. Like “I’m going to the store, too”.
Okay. Sorry. I’m kind of a grammar Nazi. Anyways, on with the review...
“Honey I'm sorry for your loss. But look on the bright side: your grandfather is in a better place now. He's with the good Lord,” Miss Laurel was an overweight woman in her forties. She always went out of her way to be nice, but I really didn't care about being polite right then. Still, I couldn't forget the good manners Grandfather had always been so strict about.
So I said, “Yes Miss Laurel, thank you.” and nodded politely, but she wasn't done yet.
“You are so young. Who will take care of you now?” I really hated it when people didn't mind their own business, but I reminded myself that she wasn't trying to be annoying. It just came out that way.
“Umm...my grandfather put it in his will that if anything happened to him as long as I was sixteen I would become an emancipated minor. Of course someone will check up on me every two months.”
“Oh. How will you live?” She was really starting to get on my nerves.
“Grandfather was not poor by any means, but I don't get any of that until I turn eighteen. He did leave me a substantial amount in my own account though.” We were rich by the definition but we didn't flaunt it. I had a small wardrobe from the local Walmart and the most expensive thing I owned was my laptop. I didn't see the point in throwing money around. Finally she got the point, and off she went with her two kids in tow.
I looked around, and sighed inwardly. There was a line waiting to talk to me. I had hardly had a whole conversation with half of these people, and the other half hadn't talked to at all. When the service had began I was bewildered at the amount of people there. Neither Grandfather nor I had been very social. We weren't rude, but we avoided human contact unless it was each other or our house maid Ranora, whom we both adored.
Everyone touched my arms and whispered their condolences, but no one really meant it. At least they didn't say more than I a few words. I could not deal with another Miss Laurel. These people never knew Grandfather. They saw him as the quiet old man who sat in the back pew on Sunday and left without saying a word. To some he was the crazy old man who lived in the boardinghouse in the woods, all alone except for his strange granddaughter. But no one, not a single person besides me knew him to be the man he was. A loving man who took in his infant grandchild to raise even in his old age. A man who kissed scrapes when I fell off my bike, but pushed me to learn self defense. Someone who smelled like the old leather books that lined his study, and had the heart of a child behind his wrinkly eyes. My only family, the only one who ever loved me. The only person who I ever loved. In my mind they didn't have the right to care.
I couldn't hate these people for not loving him like I did. They were never given the chance, but still I felt as if I were the only person in the world that had seen something wonderful. Hate was a useless emotion anyway, but I did want them to leave, to take their pity somewhere else. I wanted to be left alone with Grandfather because I was the only one who would cry tonight as I climbed in bed. Very touching sentence. Nice use of emotion.
I waited as the last person climbed in their car and drove away. I watched until they finally took the last turn that would lead them from my sight. Then I turned around where the mound off dirt was, where my grandfather was. I sat down beside him and closed my eyes. If I concentrated really hard and blocked out the world around me I could see it. I wasn't sitting beside Grandfather’s grave anymore. I was on the couch beside him, both of us reading a book in comfortable silence. Candlelight flickered across the pages because Grandfather didn't like artificial light. I could feel the smooth leather of the couch against my skin and the smooth cover of my book in my hands.
A tear slid down my cheek as I opened my eyes. It was the first time I had cried since he had died. I was really going to miss him. And so I sat there in the grass for hours, disregarding my clothing and watched the sun stretch across the sky. Finally when it went behind the trees, and I could only see by the stray rays of light, I got up.
As I stood there I looked around. The crumbling graves looked eerie in the fading light but it didn't bother me. I stood there but I didn't move. This was the part in the books where the monster came out. I waited knowing that no matter how crazy I sounded felt (because she’s not actually talking out loud to anyone) , someone was out there watching me. For a moment I thought it might have just been a way for my mind to use my overactive imagination, a way to cope with the death of the only person close to me, but that was a false hope. My gut twisted and there was such an overwhelming sense of wrongness that it brought tears to my eyes.
Mini-lesson number two:
their is the possessive form of they. Like “that is their house.”
there is used for location. As in “Look at that house over there by the creek!”
they’re is the contraction of they are. They’re going to move to their house over there.
Sorry. Incorrectly used homophones are one of my biggest pet peeves. But moving forward...
But then something broke inside of me. The scene seemed familiar, like a movie I had watched too much. I was calm as if somehow I had known what would happen. Like it had happened before, or had been planned. I saw a shadow. A black smokey figure that seemed to be everywhere at once and no where. I wasn't afraid. Deep inside I did know what was coming. And I would not meet it with fear in my heart.
First there was the sensation of someone running their fingers along my spine, but there was nothing there I saw nothing (just because I was drowning in “there’s”) . Then it was a crawling along my skin that felt like bugs were slowly covering me from head to toe. I could still feel the warm air against my skin but chill spread inside me and left everything cold. It felt like black fingers had reached inside me, and gripped my heart, and then started slowly squeezing the life out of me. Fire seemed to be spreading through every part of my body. You went from “cold” to fire. Is it an icy fire? Or did you change sensations? Just food for thought. If the unknown force hadn't kept me standing straight, I would have collapsed. Drained of almost all of my strength I couldn't fight back. All those years of self defense, a black belt in karate, and I was helpless, unable to save myself. But then again there was nothing to fight. I seemed to be completely alone.
This isn't how it’s supposed to happen, I thought to myself. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes, there was no white light on the horizon, everything in my life didn't come to sudden clarity. Nothing except the growing realization that I was going to die ran through my mind. I am liking your vivid imagery and intense descriptions here. A+ for imagery!
Then suddenly the pain wasn't as bad. Maybe I was finally going numb. This had to be it: the end. I was grateful for it because surely I had thought that my death would surely[/s] stretch into eternity[b], never-ending. But no, I wasn't dying. I could feel my strength rising, somehow fighting off my impending doom. How I had no idea, but it seemed like someone had given me a jump start, or someone was fighting through me, using my body to fight because I wasn't doing anything I was aware of.
Whatever had been killing me was now receding. I could physically feel it pull back, one step at a time. The thudding of my heart as it was released from the invisible fist This is a fragment. What about the thudding of your heart? Did you feel it? Did you hear it? Did you start rapping aloud to it? . The crawling slowly stopped and finally after an immeasurable time period it was gone completely. I stood there exactly as I had before the attack because through the whole thing I had not been able to move my body even an inch Mention the immobility sooner too. Because I was sort of wondering why she didn’t fight for her life.... Whatever it was though lived on in my memory. I could still feel the ghost fingers on my spine and inside I felt cold, like when it left it had ripped something out with it. I was violated and empty and suddenly all of my bravery faded. While I hadn't been scared before, I was now terrified.
Everything inside me went into over drive trying to explain it, to heal myself, to do anything besides just sit there. I guess it was just too much. My vision started going black around the edges and I swayed a little before I fell. Right before I blacked out I saw a black figure move at inhuman speed to my side. I don't remember hitting the ground. It might have been because I passed out before I finished falling, or it might have been because the strange man caught me.
I woke up in my room at the boardinghouse in my bed. The plain wood walls and the plush white carpet were both familiar and comforting. My black bedspread was pulled over me, and I was tucked in just like I'd always wished my mother would do when I was little. I had a stuffed brown bear Grandfather had given me for Christmas one year on a shelf beside my bed. My computer on the work desk on the wall beside the door. A bookshelf that stretched from wall to wall on my left and a black beanbag chair sat on my right.
I had woken up to all of these things almost every day of my life, and each item held a place in my heart. This room was a home within a home. The boardinghouse was special but this room was mine. The one thing in my life that wasn't shared one bit. Anytime there had been something in my life that seemed to be too hard to bear, this room had provided a sanctuary.
Today though it was nothing but a room because I remembered everything. I had come face to face with death and a room couldn't come to my rescue. It was nothing more than an enclosure. Something that put a thin wall between me and the rest of the world. That would not be enough to protect me from the things that could hurt me.
Then I realized something that I should have right away. I wouldn't have walked all of the way from the cemetery home and there was I had no memory of driving, but when I looked out my window my SUV was right there in the driveway where it always was. Then I remembered the glimpse of the stranger who had caught me. Maybe he had carried me home. But why would he take me home, tuck me in, and take care of me? The people in this town where nice enough when there was a crowd, but I can't think of one person who would do that out of the kindness of his heart.
With a start I realized that he could still be here. I walked over to my desk and reached over my computer. Strapped to the back side of desk was a knife. It was beautiful, and for a moment I marveled at it. A smooth bone-white handle that flowed into a double edged blade and ended with a sharp point and malicious gleam. more good imagery :] Grandfather had instilled a strong belief in me that there were things that could hurt me, and that a smart girl would learn to protect herself. I did. Since I was eight years old I had taken some sort of self defense or karate. Okay, you’ve already mentioned the self defense/karate three times. You might consider cutting one of them or using a phrase besides self defense and karate. Just a suggestion. He never knew about the knife. When I was twelve I had found one one what? in the living room on the inside of the chimney. That day I had scoured every room in the house and found that it held some sort of weapon hidden. In one of the empty rooms there was a sword in the closet that had been too big for me to pick up. That’s whenI decided that if Grandfather was that cautious [/s]enough for that[/s] then I should be too. I bought the knife the next day, but had yet to have use of it.
I eased out of my room quietly hoping not to give sign that I was up. My room was on the second floor, so sneaking down was always a problem. The house was old and the steps creaky, but I knew just where to place my feet to be as silent as a ghost. At the bottom of the stairs you could either turned left into the living room, right into the kitchen, or straight to walk out the front door. I went left.
As soon as I entered the room I stopped. Someone was watching me again. I lowered my eyes to the ground and then closed them. I knew where he was. In the movies they always look back, then left and right. The audience screams at the victim to see the villain because it’s so painfully obvious.I wouldn’t say “up” is a painfully obvious direction. Most serial killers have issues defying gravity. Just saying. They never look up. I raised my eyes and sure enough there he was. Clinging to the ceiling god knows how, he had on an old duster and shoulder length black hair covered his face.
No sooner than I looked up he jumped down: right on top of me. But I was fast and I moved out of the way before he hit me. He landed on his feet and was on me again in seconds. He moved at an inhuman speed. I couldn't see his movements, but I felt them. Some inner part of me knew what he was going to do and I deflected each of his blows. Somehow my knife had ended up across the room so I had only myself to use as a weapon. Mention her knife hitting the floor as she dodges him. Or else it sounds unbelievable.

I was doing good well until suddenly he was behind me and his hand pressed hard into the small of my back. It was like a shock wave went up my spine and I crumpled to the ground. When I was finally able to move again I looked up at him, and I was startled by what I saw. I expected to see malice, anger, or even hatred. Instead it was only curiosity. He looked at me as if sizing me up, and I didn't like it one bit. But when I looked at him, I mean really looked at him, I was shocked speechless.
His black hair was board-straight, and barely brushed his shoulders. He had chiselled features and a deep tan, but his eyes were impossibly black. Not dark brown but black. I couldn't tell his pupils from his irises (because he has more than one eye). My gaze travelled down, past his defined neck and broad shoulders. Under his duster he had on a black T-shirt that clung to him in ways that any girl would respect. Ha! Black jeans were topped off with, of course, black combat boots. Everything about him screamed dangerous, but I just noticed the part that screamed HOT, all caps. You don’t have to tell us it’s in all caps. We see it there in its all caps self.
He held his hand out to help me up, but no matter despite how hot he was, I remembered that two minutes ago he had attacked me. I got up on my own and slowly walked to where the knife lay, across the room. I bent down and picked it up, never taking my eyes off of him. He laughed softly.
“You know, a weapon is not to your advantage. I'm faster and stronger than you. I could take your little knife and use it against you. You must rely on your own skills. Your body must be your weapon, and eventually your mind.” His voice was dark and persuasive, but I only tightened my grip on the knife. This whole thing with the cemetery, and the speed, and the mysterious dude was going cheesy-vampire-movie way too fast. I slightly shifted my stance into one where so I could jump at him easily. Something glinted in his eyes and his smile was knowing. “Always the fighter. Let me explain before you try to attack me again, and I have to restrain you.”
It sounded as if he had read my mind, but that was impossible. Still I felt violated, but I let him go on because he was right. I wouldn't be able to fight him off, but I couldn't stop my impulsive urge to move towards the fireplace where the other knife was stashed. If he indeed did take my knife then I would have a backup, but I nodded for him to start.
“First we have to go to your grandfather's study. The story starts there.”

Alright, so despite my many criticisms, I did enjoy this. You are really good at describing things, whether it be emotions, feelings or sights. I really respect that because I'm not very good with descriptions. Your grammar started out okay in the beginning but as I went on it got steadily worse. I don't know if you were tired when you typed this or in a hurry but there were a lot of typos at the end. I think I got all the grammatical stuff though. Also, I notice you have a certain fondness for past progressive (had gone, had seen, etc.) which can be fine but be careful because if you use it too much it makes your writing too wordy and a pain to read. Futhermore, I notice that you can be excessively...prolix or wordy. You use more words than you need to to convey thoughts. I understand what you're saying. Just remember that when writing, sometimes simpler is better.
As far as the story line goes, you did excellently with the telling of the story. It really felt ...real to me which I appreciate. Grandfather's funeral was well done and believable. However, I found the long-haired, all dressed in black guy to be a little cliche. But I'm willing to roll with it as long as you can show later that he's different from your usual hiding-something-dangerous-guy-who-saves-young-women-who-then-fall-in-love-with-him. Just make him unique is all I ask.
Overall, I like your story so far. Although I felt like the guy's line at the end didn't really fit. You had a nice flow going and then it just sort of cut it off. In any case, I find this intriguing and am considering reading more. But not tonight because it took me 2 hours to give you a proper review and I want to go to bed.
Good Job.
Keep writing.
Toodles!
Em

Hello!
My name is em and I will be massacring your story today. Before I begin, I would like to apologize for any hurt feelings/resentment/murderous desires you may feel after I tear you work to shreds with my grammatical evils and harsh opinions. Also, I would like to warn you that my reviews are not for the light-hearted. Futhermore, I would like to ask you for forgiveness and to not hate me as a person because I was so brutally honest whilst reviewing your paper. Hope this does not ruin your day...
and without further adieu, I will begin your review:

Prologue
10 years ago

Grandfather was a bit of an odd man, but I loved him and never believed when the kids at school who called him crazy. Sometimes though, he said things that confused me. Like the day when I had gone went down to the creek in the woods on my own. I had never been without him. I never went anywhere in the woods alone, but I thought that I was grown up and brave enough to try. As I was walking walked by the water with my shoes off, he had come came bursting through the trees with a look on his face that scared me. Because he looked afraid and Grandfather wasn't scared of anything. Beside me, a shadow I hadn't noticed before suddenly disappeared, and it confused me because there was nothing there to cast a shadow.

When Grandfather finally saw me through the low branches, relief flooded his face. He gathered me in his arms not even bothering to get my shoes. Silently he carried me all the way back to the house, and set me down on the couch. In that moment Grandfather looked at me in a way that was not his usual loving way. In his eyes was a fiery passion and barely controlled frustration. His eyes were hard and his mouth set, but he wasn't mad, at least not at me. He looked as if there was something important he wanted to say but he didn't know how.

When he finally spoke his voice changed and became one that was not his, but belonged to him all the same. It wasn't the voice of the Grandfather she I knew but like a different man, one from long ago, “There are things that hide in the dark Lissiana. They wait for you, so (because at first I thought you meant the things were innocent and naive and I was SO confused) innocent and naive. One day you will be able to face them. One day you will no longer be blind to the horrors of the world. You will see that everything you believe in is false, but that being ignorant will lead to your death.” he sighed and ran a thin hand through his graying hair. When he continued he was the man she knew once again, “But today is not that day. Nor will is tomorrow be. As a child you will not see. I made sure of that. But Lissi, you must promise me that you will not go into the woods without me.

Stunned at by the side of him I had never seen before I could only say, “ Yes Grandfather. I promise.”

He seemed to take that as acceptable because he nodded and said, “I can only protect you if I am there, but I will keep you safe until I die.” As he walked away I thought I heard him whisper something that sounded like “again.” But that didn't make sense.
In any case, I kept my promise, even into my teenage years. Even into my years as a teenager I kept my promise. I never went into the woods without Grandfather. Maybe, it was because in my heart I already knew about the bad things.
What I never knew though, was that my grandfather’s cryptic warning to a confused six year old would be the beginning into of a life filled with secrets and monsters that waited in the dark. This first part is good. It caught my attention and made me keep reading. I especially like that last sentence. In my mind I was just like “ooh!” with goosebumps. You had a couple of oddly phrased sentences and I tried to fix them. Also, a couple of small grammatical things but overall, grammatically it was good. Story-wise, I am impressed so far.

Chapter 1
Why don’t you insert some dialogue here? Just a few sentences of the priest speaking about how great Grandfather was. Because I am beginning to find all the background monotonous. I know it’s necessary; that’s just a personal nitpick of mine. If you put too much background in the beginning, you’ll bore your readers. You want to catch their attention first, keep them guessing about what’s going on, and then hit them with the background. But don’t keep them guessing too long or else they’ll be confused, throw the book at the wall, and storm off in frustration. Sorry, I’m very picky... Feel free to ignore anything I say. In any case, on with the review...
The priest was going on about the great life Grandfather had. All of his accomplishments, the great things he had done. Maybe the man thought he was making everyone feel better. That by reminding us of what we lost, we wouldn't be so sad. But I wasn't paying attention anyway. My focus was on Grandfather.
He was so still. He was always so active that even in sleep he was restless, but now he didn't move. His skin was so white, and when I had touched his cheek earlier, so cold. His hands were delicately crossed over his chest in a way that almost seemed peaceful. As if he were merely sleeping, but Grandfather never slept like that. He was always turning, twisting, awakening to the slightest noise. Everything about this was wrong. I had the urge to run from the room, but I was rooted in place. Because I felt like Grandfather was not gone. At least, not forever.
I know it sounds crazy. I didn't feel as if he is still here like some cheesy ghost movie. I knew he was gone. Dead. But it felt like he was coming back.
I hated that he was here in this place, but he wanted it like that. The church looked fake to me. Grandfather had gone every Sunday but I never did. The ceiling was impossibly high and crystal chandeliers hung everywhere. They have crystal chandeliers but the walls are a plain white? Most churches have stained glass or something? Is this supposed to be an ordinary church? The walls were just white and behind the numerous rows of pews was a balcony with even more pews. The town was of medium size, but this was just ridiculous. Grandfather never said much about his trips to church, he never prayed before meals, he didn't own a single bible, but whatever it was that went on here he believed in it with a fierce passion, that much was clear. I never saw the point in it. I believed that there was something out there but I had no desire to come close to it. For some reason I felt like whoever it was had personally insulted me.
Whoa! Okay, so I need some transition from personal insult/Supreme Being to left behind list please because I was momentarily disoriented. Thanks. The list of relatives left behind was a short one. I was the only family he had, and he was mine. My parents had died when I was a baby and his wife “his wife”? Is she not Lissi’s Grandmother? It’s not really a big deal. Just food for thought. long before then. He never talked about them. He always told me never to dig for the past, because what was buried was intended to stay that way. Whenever he said that his face turned grave and he would sit in his study for hours alone. I know that something had happened to make Grandfather like that. He was usually so happy and unworried, but I never asked where he went when he was drawn into the world of his thoughts.
Finally the service was over and it was time for the burial. I drove behind the hearse and watched as the other drivers pulled over to the side of the road. It bewildered me how this world respected the dead, but had no care for life as they watched theirs go by smoking and drinking. Ooh. I dig this statement. ‘Tis a very good point.
The cemetery had no effect on anyone in the afternoon sun. The graves were broken and crumbled where Grandfather was buried because they were so old. All of the newer ones were out front but Grandfather never was one to be in the spotlight. The preacher’s wife sang a song that I didn't listen too and then it was over. Just like that people were moving out, already forgetting the old man they had just buried. I’m not sure if you know this, but I have noticed that you have had several mistakes having to do with homophones so I’m going to give you a mini-lesson:
-‘s shows possession
s means plural
to is for direction. Like going to the store.
too is for also. Like “I’m going to the store, too”.
Okay. Sorry. I’m kind of a grammar Nazi. Anyways, on with the review...
“Honey I'm sorry for your loss. But look on the bright side: your grandfather is in a better place now. He's with the good Lord,” Miss Laurel was an overweight woman in her forties. She always went out of her way to be nice, but I really didn't care about being polite right then. Still, I couldn't forget the good manners Grandfather had always been so strict about.
So I said, “Yes Miss Laurel, thank you.” and nodded politely, but she wasn't done yet.
“You are so young. Who will take care of you now?” I really hated it when people didn't mind their own business, but I reminded myself that she wasn't trying to be annoying. It just came out that way.
“Umm...my grandfather put it in his will that if anything happened to him as long as I was sixteen I would become an emancipated minor. Of course someone will check up on me every two months.”
“Oh. How will you live?” She was really starting to get on my nerves.
“Grandfather was not poor by any means, but I don't get any of that until I turn eighteen. He did leave me a substantial amount in my own account though.” We were rich by the definition but we didn't flaunt it. I had a small wardrobe from the local Walmart and the most expensive thing I owned was my laptop. I didn't see the point in throwing money around. Finally she got the point, and off she went with her two kids in tow.
I looked around, and sighed inwardly. There was a line waiting to talk to me. I had hardly had a whole conversation with half of these people, and the other half hadn't talked to at all. When the service had began I was bewildered at the amount of people there. Neither Grandfather nor I had been very social. We weren't rude, but we avoided human contact unless it was each other or our house maid Ranora, whom we both adored.
Everyone touched my arms and whispered their condolences, but no one really meant it. At least they didn't say more than I a few words. I could not deal with another Miss Laurel. These people never knew Grandfather. They saw him as the quiet old man who sat in the back pew on Sunday and left without saying a word. To some he was the crazy old man who lived in the boardinghouse in the woods, all alone except for his strange granddaughter. But no one, not a single person besides me knew him to be the man he was. A loving man who took in his infant grandchild to raise even in his old age. A man who kissed scrapes when I fell off my bike, but pushed me to learn self defense. Someone who smelled like the old leather books that lined his study, and had the heart of a child behind his wrinkly eyes. My only family, the only one who ever loved me. The only person who I ever loved. In my mind they didn't have the right to care.
I couldn't hate these people for not loving him like I did. They were never given the chance, but still I felt as if I were the only person in the world that had seen something wonderful. Hate was a useless emotion anyway, but I did want them to leave, to take their pity somewhere else. I wanted to be left alone with Grandfather because I was the only one who would cry tonight as I climbed in bed. Very touching sentence. Nice use of emotion.
I waited as the last person climbed in their car and drove away. I watched until they finally took the last turn that would lead them from my sight. Then I turned around where the mound off dirt was, where my grandfather was. I sat down beside him and closed my eyes. If I concentrated really hard and blocked out the world around me I could see it. I wasn't sitting beside Grandfather’s grave anymore. I was on the couch beside him, both of us reading a book in comfortable silence. Candlelight flickered across the pages because Grandfather didn't like artificial light. I could feel the smooth leather of the couch against my skin and the smooth cover of my book in my hands.
A tear slid down my cheek as I opened my eyes. It was the first time I had cried since he had died. I was really going to miss him. And so I sat there in the grass for hours, disregarding my clothing and watched the sun stretch across the sky. Finally when it went behind the trees, and I could only see by the stray rays of light, I got up.
As I stood there I looked around. The crumbling graves looked eerie in the fading light but it didn't bother me. I stood there but I didn't move. This was the part in the books where the monster came out. I waited knowing that no matter how crazy I sounded felt (because she’s not actually talking out loud to anyone) , someone was out there watching me. For a moment I thought it might have just been a way for my mind to use my overactive imagination, a way to cope with the death of the only person close to me, but that was a false hope. My gut twisted and there was such an overwhelming sense of wrongness that it brought tears to my eyes.
Mini-lesson number two:
their is the possessive form of they. Like “that is their house.”
there is used for location. As in “Look at that house over there by the creek!”
they’re is the contraction of they are. They’re going to move to their house over there.
Sorry. Incorrectly used homophones are one of my biggest pet peeves. But moving forward...
But then something broke inside of me. The scene seemed familiar, like a movie I had watched too much. I was calm as if somehow I had known what would happen. Like it had happened before, or had been planned. I saw a shadow. A black smokey figure that seemed to be everywhere at once and no where. I wasn't afraid. Deep inside I did know what was coming. And I would not meet it with fear in my heart.
First there was the sensation of someone running their fingers along my spine, but there was nothing there I saw nothing (just because I was drowning in “there’s”) . Then it was a crawling along my skin that felt like bugs were slowly covering me from head to toe. I could still feel the warm air against my skin but chill spread inside me and left everything cold. It felt like black fingers had reached inside me, and gripped my heart, and then started slowly squeezing the life out of me. Fire seemed to be spreading through every part of my body. You went from “cold” to fire. Is it an icy fire? Or did you change sensations? Just food for thought. If the unknown force hadn't kept me standing straight, I would have collapsed. Drained of almost all of my strength I couldn't fight back. All those years of self defense, a black belt in karate, and I was helpless, unable to save myself. But then again there was nothing to fight. I seemed to be completely alone.
This isn't how it’s supposed to happen, I thought to myself. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes, there was no white light on the horizon, everything in my life didn't come to sudden clarity. Nothing except the growing realization that I was going to die ran through my mind. I am liking your vivid imagery and intense descriptions here. A+ for imagery!
Then suddenly the pain wasn't as bad. Maybe I was finally going numb. This had to be it: the end. I was grateful for it because surely I had thought that my death would surely[/s] stretch into eternity[b], never-ending. But no, I wasn't dying. I could feel my strength rising, somehow fighting off my impending doom. How I had no idea, but it seemed like someone had given me a jump start, or someone was fighting through me, using my body to fight because I wasn't doing anything I was aware of.
Whatever had been killing me was now receding. I could physically feel it pull back, one step at a time. The thudding of my heart as it was released from the invisible fist This is a fragment. What about the thudding of your heart? Did you feel it? Did you hear it? Did you start rapping aloud to it? . The crawling slowly stopped and finally after an immeasurable time period it was gone completely. I stood there exactly as I had before the attack because through the whole thing I had not been able to move my body even an inch Mention the immobility sooner too. Because I was sort of wondering why she didn’t fight for her life.... Whatever it was though lived on in my memory. I could still feel the ghost fingers on my spine and inside I felt cold, like when it left it had ripped something out with it. I was violated and empty and suddenly all of my bravery faded. While I hadn't been scared before, I was now terrified.
Everything inside me went into over drive trying to explain it, to heal myself, to do anything besides just sit there. I guess it was just too much. My vision started going black around the edges and I swayed a little before I fell. Right before I blacked out I saw a black figure move at inhuman speed to my side. I don't remember hitting the ground. It might have been because I passed out before I finished falling, or it might have been because the strange man caught me.
I woke up in my room at the boardinghouse in my bed. The plain wood walls and the plush white carpet were both familiar and comforting. My black bedspread was pulled over me, and I was tucked in just like I'd always wished my mother would do when I was little. I had a stuffed brown bear Grandfather had given me for Christmas one year on a shelf beside my bed. My computer on the work desk on the wall beside the door. A bookshelf that stretched from wall to wall on my left and a black beanbag chair sat on my right.
I had woken up to all of these things almost every day of my life, and each item held a place in my heart. This room was a home within a home. The boardinghouse was special but this room was mine. The one thing in my life that wasn't shared one bit. Anytime there had been something in my life that seemed to be too hard to bear, this room had provided a sanctuary.
Today though it was nothing but a room because I remembered everything. I had come face to face with death and a room couldn't come to my rescue. It was nothing more than an enclosure. Something that put a thin wall between me and the rest of the world. That would not be enough to protect me from the things that could hurt me.
Then I realized something that I should have right away. I wouldn't have walked all of the way from the cemetery home and there was I had no memory of driving, but when I looked out my window my SUV was right there in the driveway where it always was. Then I remembered the glimpse of the stranger who had caught me. Maybe he had carried me home. But why would he take me home, tuck me in, and take care of me? The people in this town where nice enough when there was a crowd, but I can't think of one person who would do that out of the kindness of his heart.
With a start I realized that he could still be here. I walked over to my desk and reached over my computer. Strapped to the back side of desk was a knife. It was beautiful, and for a moment I marveled at it. A smooth bone-white handle that flowed into a double edged blade and ended with a sharp point and malicious gleam. more good imagery :] Grandfather had instilled a strong belief in me that there were things that could hurt me, and that a smart girl would learn to protect herself. I did. Since I was eight years old I had taken some sort of self defense or karate. Okay, you’ve already mentioned the self defense/karate three times. You might consider cutting one of them or using a phrase besides self defense and karate. Just a suggestion. He never knew about the knife. When I was twelve I had found one one what? in the living room on the inside of the chimney. That day I had scoured every room in the house and found that it held some sort of weapon hidden. In one of the empty rooms there was a sword in the closet that had been too big for me to pick up. That’s whenI decided that if Grandfather was that cautious [/s]enough for that[/s] then I should be too. I bought the knife the next day, but had yet to have use of it.
I eased out of my room quietly hoping not to give sign that I was up. My room was on the second floor, so sneaking down was always a problem. The house was old and the steps creaky, but I knew just where to place my feet to be as silent as a ghost. At the bottom of the stairs you could either turned left into the living room, right into the kitchen, or straight to walk out the front door. I went left.
As soon as I entered the room I stopped. Someone was watching me again. I lowered my eyes to the ground and then closed them. I knew where he was. In the movies they always look back, then left and right. The audience screams at the victim to see the villain because it’s so painfully obvious.I wouldn’t say “up” is a painfully obvious direction. Most serial killers have issues defying gravity. Just saying. They never look up. I raised my eyes and sure enough there he was. Clinging to the ceiling god knows how, he had on an old duster and shoulder length black hair covered his face.
No sooner than I looked up he jumped down: right on top of me. But I was fast and I moved out of the way before he hit me. He landed on his feet and was on me again in seconds. He moved at an inhuman speed. I couldn't see his movements, but I felt them. Some inner part of me knew what he was going to do and I deflected each of his blows. Somehow my knife had ended up across the room so I had only myself to use as a weapon. Mention her knife hitting the floor as she dodges him. Or else it sounds unbelievable.

I was doing good well until suddenly he was behind me and his hand pressed hard into the small of my back. It was like a shock wave went up my spine and I crumpled to the ground. When I was finally able to move again I looked up at him, and I was startled by what I saw. I expected to see malice, anger, or even hatred. Instead it was only curiosity. He looked at me as if sizing me up, and I didn't like it one bit. But when I looked at him, I mean really looked at him, I was shocked speechless.
His black hair was board-straight, and barely brushed his shoulders. He had chiselled features and a deep tan, but his eyes were impossibly black. Not dark brown but black. I couldn't tell his pupils from his irises (because he has more than one eye). My gaze travelled down, past his defined neck and broad shoulders. Under his duster he had on a black T-shirt that clung to him in ways that any girl would respect. Ha! Black jeans were topped off with, of course, black combat boots. Everything about him screamed dangerous, but I just noticed the part that screamed HOT, all caps. You don’t have to tell us it’s in all caps. We see it there in its all caps self.
He held his hand out to help me up, but no matter despite how hot he was, I remembered that two minutes ago he had attacked me. I got up on my own and slowly walked to where the knife lay, across the room. I bent down and picked it up, never taking my eyes off of him. He laughed softly.
“You know, a weapon is not to your advantage. I'm faster and stronger than you. I could take your little knife and use it against you. You must rely on your own skills. Your body must be your weapon, and eventually your mind.” His voice was dark and persuasive, but I only tightened my grip on the knife. This whole thing with the cemetery, and the speed, and the mysterious dude was going cheesy-vampire-movie way too fast. I slightly shifted my stance into one where so I could jump at him easily. Something glinted in his eyes and his smile was knowing. “Always the fighter. Let me explain before you try to attack me again, and I have to restrain you.”
It sounded as if he had read my mind, but that was impossible. Still I felt violated, but I let him go on because he was right. I wouldn't be able to fight him off, but I couldn't stop my impulsive urge to move towards the fireplace where the other knife was stashed. If he indeed did take my knife then I would have a backup, but I nodded for him to start.
“First we have to go to your grandfather's study. The story starts there.”

Alright, so despite my many criticisms, I did enjoy this. You are really good at describing things, whether it be emotions, feelings or sights. I really respect that because I'm not very good with descriptions. Your grammar started out okay in the beginning but as I went on it got steadily worse. I don't know if you were tired when you typed this or in a hurry but there were a lot of typos at the end. I think I got all the grammatical stuff though. Also, I notice you have a certain fondness for past progressive (had gone, had seen, etc.) which can be fine but be careful because if you use it too much it makes your writing too wordy and a pain to read. Futhermore, I notice that you can be excessively...prolix or wordy. You use more words than you need to to convey thoughts. I understand what you're saying. Just remember that when writing, sometimes simpler is better.
As far as the story line goes, you did excellently with the telling of the story. It really felt ...real to me which I appreciate. Grandfather's funeral was well done and believable. However, I found the long-haired, all dressed in black guy to be a little cliche. But I'm willing to roll with it as long as you can show later that he's different from your usual hiding-something-dangerous-guy-who-saves-young-women-who-then-fall-in-love-with-him. Just make him unique is all I ask.
Overall, I like your story so far. Although I felt like the guy's line at the end didn't really fit. You had a nice flow going and then it just sort of cut it off. In any case, I find this intriguing and am considering reading more. But not tonight because it took me 2 hours to give you a proper review and I want to go to bed.
Good Job.
Keep writing.
Toodles!
Em

I agree. This is brilliant! I can't say much without repeating myself

Can't wait to see more!