[September Contest] The Artist

My scenario:

Spoiler

Your story is about an artist in a glass elevator destroying New York City.

Word Count: 990

Flames engulf the city as civilians run for their lives. I can only imagine their screams, their unheard cries for help. A women runs straight into a crowded street. Cars swerve in confusion, but one of them hits her full on. I wonder if the driver hit her on purpose. I glance away from the street and to the buildings. As if on cue, a skyscraper collapses, and dust covers a full section of the city. The tiny ants that are people get covered by the haze. The chaos, the death. This is my masterpiece.

-----------------------

I walked up to my mailbox, paper clutched by my side. I took out my key and slipped it in, opening it. Inside, a single envelope sat in the middle of my box. Bills. I tried to remain calm as I opened up the envelope to survey the damage. My eyes scanned the paper, and I instinctively groaned a caveman-like cry.

“Damn it!” I said, hitting my fist against the cold metal. There was no way I could pay all this. And the rent. And my art college tuition. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!!” I couldn't give up now though. Not after all those weeks of saving up cash to leave my parents, to escape the colorless world around me. I almost clenched my other hand, but stopped myself, remembering what was in it. Instead I took out the paper and looked at it. I had been working all week on the drawing. The colors, the contrast. It had to be my best work yet. It calmed me, looking at it. This might be the artwork that put me on the map. It was a drawing of New York city, my hometown. Burning to the ground.

---

I was going to be late. My feet flew across a street, then screeched to a stop, as I gazed up at the building. It was made entirely of glass. The artistry of it all… oh! I could barely contain myself. I pushed the revolving door and walked through the building to the elevator. It was made of glass too. Inside, I punched the top floor and took out my drawing. I still couldn’t believe that the art gallery had agreed to meet with me. I had spent all night slaving over my drawing, making sure every detail was perfect. There were tiny people running out of the burning buildings, each painstakingly drawn. In my head, I had the whole scenario of my drawing planned out, down to the smallest detail. The flame started in a single building, but spread to the whole city, burning it all to the ground.

Just then the elevator screeched to a halt. I looked around nervously, wondering what happened. Nothing seemed to be wrong. But for some reason it had just stopped in the middle of the building. I pressed the emergency button, trying to remain calm. Trying to distract myself, I looked out at the city. The view was amazing. I could see every person, every building. Something glinted out of the corner of my eye and I glanced at it. It looked like… No. It couldn’t be. My breathed stopped as I stared at a building far away from me. It was engulfed in flames.

---

“My drawing is coming alive," I think. Without warning, the elevator I’m in wobbles and I grasp onto the sides. My heart stops as I feel myself sway with the building. But after a moment, it stops. Suddenly, I’m terrified of what is happening. I pound on the up button, but nothing happens. The glass walls seem to cave in on me, and I feel trapped. Another tremor hits me and I fall over. The whole elevator becomes slanted, and I get pushed against the frame of it. The paper floats and lands beside me. My face is pressed against the glass. As I look out the elevator, I can see the flame, slowly advancing to where I am.

I try to get up, but the glass is too slippery. Every second, the fire seems to take over another building. I can feel the flames eat now, getting closer and closer to me in the elevator. I need to get out of this elevator. My hands frantically claw at a scrape, at something to grab onto. But all they reach is the drawing. I grab it and look at it.

The real New York and my drawing look exactly the same now. I bury my face in the paper and close my eyes. Anger and sadness meet in me, but all I can feel is terror. The glass I’m laying on starts to crack and I know that I’ve only got a few seconds left before it'll break. I take both hands around the drawing, breath, then rip it in half.

“Bing!” My eyes open to a clear hallway. “Floor 12,” a robotic voice chimes. I try and remember where I am. I spin around and see what I’m standing in. A glass elevator, out-looking New York City.

“Hello, are you Andrew Hayner?” I turn around to see a man, addressing me. On his business suit is a badge that says “Art Consultant.” I stare at the badge, and start to remember. The fire, the glass, the screams. All of it, was it all just a dream?

“Excuse me, I don’t have all day. Did you bring the drawing or not? I’ve got fifteen other artists dying for a piece in our collection.”

I hand him the artwork, still in one piece, unripped. He starts to look at it, his eyes fixed. Then, a door opens and a women rushes out, almost knocking into him. He yells in surprise and almost falls over.

“Mr. Alger, we’ve got to call 911!” she said breathlessly. “One of the computers… It just burst into flames!”

Firstly, I love this! It's brilliant!
At first I was confused, but then I read on and got more and more excited! And addicted.
You did though use I a lot at begginning of sentences. But other than that I really can't pick anything.
For example:

Just then the elevator screeched to a halt. I looked around nervously, wondering what happened. Nothing seemed to be wrong. But for some reason it had just stopped in the middle of the building. I pressed the emergency button, trying to remain calm. I tried to distract myself by looking out at the city. The view was amazing. I could see every person, every building. Something glinted out of the corner of my eye and I glanced at it. It looked like… No. It couldn’t be. My breathed stopped as I stared at a building far away from me. It was engulfed in flames.

But sometimes, you can't put anything else there but I. So it's not that bad
Have a nice day,
Waterlilygirl

Hey Wario! (love the username by the way)
Pink here, thanks for the request. I figured I might as well review it ASAP since it's almost the 19th and isn't that the deadline? I don't know, anyways, less talking more reviewing! Kya!

Cars swerve in confusion, but one of them hits her full on. I wonder if the driver hit her on purpose. I glance away from the street and to the buildings. As if on cue, a skyscraper collapses, and dust covers a full section of the city. The tiny ants that are people get covered by the haze. The chaos, the death. This is my masterpiece.

I actually like your opener, it's catchy, unlike a few that I've read. It immediately caught my attention and I was like, "ohh." haha. Although I did notice a tiny mistake here. My apologizes for being a bit nitpicky sometimes but I noticed your described a woman getting hit by a car and then in the end you described them as tiny ants. So, can he really see the woman clearly? I don't know, it's just a thought. Of course maybe he could, maybe he's not that high up. Maybe it's just his artist eyes. In the end, just take what I said lightly. It's only something I noticed.

Trying to distract myself, I by looking out at the city. The view was amazing.

I think there is a mosquito flying about here. (typo)

“My drawing is coming alive.” I think.

I think there should be a comma instead of a period. since the quote is being thought, right?
"My drawing is coming alive," I think.

Anger and sadness meet in me, but all I can feel is terror.

Alright, so you said anger and sadness are inside of him but all he feels is terror. Not true, right? I mean you just said he felt anger and sadness. I think you just had a brain fart there lol No biggie.

“Mr. Alger, we’ve got to call an ambulance!” she said breathlessly. “One of the computers… It just burst into flames!”

Oh my goodness, don't tell me that was the building he saw on fire in the first place? Is he going to die? *gasp*

Overall
I think you did a good job. The idea is creative and I think you did a very nice job putting it all together. Like pieces to a puzzle. Actually, when I read the part about the painting of a burning New York, I immediately thought of Heroes, the TV show, and that artist who could paint the future and stuff. Anyways, back to your work. I really did think the artist was bit crazy, with the way he was yelling at his bill and all. I mean, I was like, whoa, calm down dude. Haha, but I guess he was just frustrated. My only real suggestion for this would be to add more description, I guess. I mean, your seeing an entire city burn before your eyes, I wished you showed some more emotion with the character. You could have cut out a few parts with the mail box and the running part, the honking part was unnecessary too and added some more description with the core of the story. Well, other than that, I thought this was pretty good. Good job!
Hope I helped, cheers!

~Shear

This piece was kind of confusing to me.

Just then the elevator screeched to a halt. I looked around nervously, wondering what happened. Nothing seemed to be wrong. But for some reason it had just stopped in the middle of the building. I pressed the emergency button, trying to remain calm. Trying to distract myself, I by looking out at the city. The view was amazing. I could see every person, every building. Something glinted out of the corner of my eye and I glanced at it. It looked like… No. It couldn’t be. My breathed stopped as I stared at a building far away from me. It was engulfed in flames.

-----------------

“My drawing is coming alive.” I think. Without warning, the elevator I’m in wobbles and I grasp onto the sides. My heart stops as I feel myself sway with the building. But after a moment, it stops. Suddenly, I’m terrified of what is happening. I pound on the up button, but nothing happens. The glass walls seem to cave in on me, and I feel trapped. Another tremor hits me and I fall over. The whole elevator becomes slanted, and I get pushed against the frame of it. The paper floats and lands beside me. My face is pressed against the glass. As I look out the elevator, I can see the flame, slowly advancing to where I am.

Take away the "----------" thing. I think that's a big part of why I got confused; you made it seem like two separate scenes, so if they linked of course it was real.

The real New York and my drawing look exactly the same now. I bury my face in the paper and close my eyes. Anger and sadness meet in me, but all I can feel is terror. The glass I’m laying on starts to crack and I know that I’ve only got a few seconds left before it'll break. I take both hands around the paper, breath, then rip it in half.

“Bing!” My eyes open to a clear hallway. “Floor 12,” a robotic voice chimes. I try and remember where I am. I spin around and see what I’m standing in. A glass elevator, out-looking New York City.

I think there should be a "------" between these two paragraphs. It was confusing because everything was separated at awkward places, whereas they should be separated to make separate points -- or, separate views on reality.

I think if you just change those two things around, this will be all the more easier to read.

I really do like this; amazing imagery, especially at the beginning. Just make sure we can follow you.

loveness, ultraviolet <3

Hey Wario Jai here.

Wow, I love the beginning. Nice foreshadowing.

“Damn it!” I said, hitting my fist against the cold metal. There was no way I could pay all this. And the rent. And my art college tuition. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!!”

Hmm. Very rarely do students actually get stuck in this situation. Here in Australia there are share houses and student accommodation, and scholarships and things to make sure students can live while they learn. Some share houses are as little as $75 per week. Gas/electricity bills come once every three months, and if you're in a share house, the bill is split amongst the people. A small restaurant in Australia ends up paying around $600, so a small household would be less than that. Internet is around $60 per month depending on the plan. Telephone is $25 straight up per month to continue using a land line, and then every month the amount of calls is tallied up. Food is however much you want to spend. So in reality, not being able to pay the bills doesn't really happen unless you've been stupid with your money/don't have a job.

“My drawing is coming alive.” I think.

Thoughts should be in italics, and without quotation marks, generally.

My hands frantically claw at a scrape, at something to grab onto.

Claw at a scrape?

“Excuse me, I don’t have all day. Did you bring the drawing or not? I’ve got 15 other artist dying for a piece in our collection.”

Numbers under one hundred should be spelled out, ie "fifteen".

“Mr. Alger, we’ve got to call an ambulance!” she said breathlessly. “One of the computers… It just burst into flames!”

Why would they need to call an ambulance just because a computer burst into flames? Perhaps, "Mr. Alger, we’ve got to call an ambulance! George's face... his computer, it burst into flames!"

All in all, I liked the idea of this story and I'd actually like to see you expand on this idea once the contest is over. Although I think the idea of an artist being able to draw the future, I imagine that you'd be able to put an unique spin on it

Nice story.

- Jai