Young Writers Society

White Carpet

I vault over the fence and crouch in a flower bed, concealed in the shadow of the house - no, mansion. I bet anything this place could sleep my whole neighborhood. Apparently, the owner’s this elderly, retired professor. Evidently, he lives by himself, doesn’t ever have any visitors except his granddaughter or niece or something. So, really, how many bathrooms does one old guy need? The place is tranquil and dark and looks kinda lonely to me. The prof left for Texas a couple days ago, like he does every year. Though this year, Zane learned that he doesn’t have an alarm system, so this house has been a sitting duck.
I crawl along the fence line, detouring around a willow. Pulling on gloves, I dash up the verandah to the back door. Squatting, I remove my tools from my sweater pocket. Inspecting the lock, a smug grin pastes itself to my lips. You would think that if you don’t have an alarm or a dog, you would at least invest in a good quality lock. But no, Mr. Rich Professor skimped and went for a generic lock, one I’ve picked a thousand times. Guess it serves him right, I think.
It only takes me ten minutes before the lock clicks into place and the door groans open. I turn, giving a thumbs up into the night. Noah and Tanner whiz by me from their location behind the above-ground pool. I know Zane follows patiently, though I can’t spot him until he is right in front of me. Even then, it’s only his trademark grin of unnaturally white teeth that distinguishes Zane from the obscurity. He reminds me of the Cheshire Cat from Alice In Wonderland, choosing only to appear when it amuses him.
“Record time t’night, Dion,” he comments, appreciatively. “Good work. Looks like I was right about ya. Come on, need your help inside.”
Inside? I never go inside a house. My task is to get everyone in, then keep watch so everyone gets out. Zane must be positive that we’ll have no trouble tonight. Just as that thought enters my head, there’s a crash that practically makes me jump out of my skin. Zane’s smile vanishes and he swears. The noise really wasn’t that loud, but in a house that’s supposed to be empty, silence is essential.
“What do you think that was?” I hiss. There’s no reply and I strain to determine his expression without the illumination of his smile. Then I realize Zane’s not in front of me anymore and hesitating, just for a second, I step inside.
I’m in a kitchen. Everything is state of the art, from the oven to the can opener. It smells like apple pie and my stomach complains dangerously loudly. There is an iPod charging in a dock on the counter. I think he must be a pretty hip old prof - not like any of my teachers who can barely make a photocopy. I pocket the iPod.
Continuing on, I join the others in the living room. It has a spotless white rug, which my muddy runners are making not spotless. I feel kinda guilty, it must take a lot of work to keep it that pristine. Noah, Zane’s second-in-command, is rummaging through a closet, setting aside valuables. I discern a violin case and a bag of golf clubs. Tanner is unhooking a massive flatscreen that will probably take all four of us to carry. He’s flushed and is looking like the best suspect for the tower of CDs now strewn over the floor. Zane emerges from a bedroom, on his wrists expensive-looking watches, carefully carrying a painting. He looks at Noah, almost completely concealed, still digging through the closet, then at Tanner.
“T,” he whispers, “help me with this.” Tanner stops dismantling the television and takes the painting. Zane grabs the violin on his way out to the van. “More in the bedroom, Dion,” he instructs over his shoulder. I make my way towards the bedroom, stopping when I spot a laptop on a couch half concealed by a blanket. I reach for it. The lights come on.
“Hey, what are you doing!” loudly snaps a girl who has appeared at the top of the staircase. I freeze in horror. Her carmel-colored hair is pulled up into a messy, lopsided bun and she’s barefoot. She clutches a wireless phone and a can that I bet is pepper spray. She has on gym shorts and an emerald tank top covered by a baggy sweater. Not like my baggy sweater, though, which makes me look stockier, more threatening. Her’s has a logo of an exclusive school near here. And I imagine her sweatshirt isn’t too big for the same reason mine is. I bet it’s her boyfriend’s who is probably going to Yale in the fall. She descends a couple stairs. I feel like I’m five years old again: that if I stay still and hold my breath, I am invisible.
“Well?” she questions.
“I - I...It’s not what it looks like,” I stammer.
“Really?” She arches an eyebrow and looks at me like a teacher expecting a noble excuse of why I haven’t done my homework. I look away.
“The door was open when I came in.” That is the truth.
“Good try.” She presses two numbers, most likely 9 and 1.
“Stop, please,” I beg.
The girl lowers the phone and takes another three steps down. “What have you taken?” she inquires, suspiciously.
“Nothing,” I glance at the flatscreen. “I was unhooking the TV.”
She’s on the last step. “Empty your pockets.” I stare at the floor. I pull the iPod from my sweater. I hate myself. I hate myself even more when I meet her gaze. I hate that I let Zane talk me into picking locks for him; I hate that I followed him in here; I hate the way she’s looking at me now - like I’m something she has to scrape off her shoe. Now she is standing in front of me but out of arms reach. I put her iPod gently on the carpet.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she replies, dialing 911. I hear a faint rustle and I realize Noah’s still in the closet behind her. I look over her shoulder. Noah appears and I look pointedly at the door. She’s distracted so maybe he can escape without her knowing there was ever the four of us. Noah reaches into the golf bag, selecting a nine iron. No, you idiot, I think. Leave while you can. The clubs aren’t worth much, anyway. Noah braces the club like a bat.
“No!” I yelp, taking a step forward. The girl raises the pepper spray defensively, still oblivious.
He swings.
The club connects with her skull with a sickening thwack. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that sound. I don’t see her fall, but she’s at my feet and now I’m not the only one leaving stains on that white carpet. I wait for her to get up. She just keeps spewing blood from her head. And suddenly, I’m furious.
“What the hell?” I roar at Noah, who looks too stunned to reply. Zane crash into the living room. His eyes widen at the golf club still in Noah’s hands.
“Run.”

Hey there!

I've decided that I really like your writing. Both pieces that I've read by you have been great. They flow well, the characters are believable and they keep me reading until the end.

I think this plot was great. The narrator had a nice voice. I liked her(?) thought processes and they way you had her speak and act. Each of the four characters had their own place in the story too. It wasn't like two of them got the limelight and the others got a mention now and again. It was nice to see characters in a story being used, rather than just being scene fillers.

This is nice as a short story, but I really do feel like you could expand on this. I'd love to know what happened after. Did the girl die? - most probably. Did they get away with it? Are the police hunting them down? I actually think this would make a great novel and there's not many times that I've thought that after reading a short story.

I'd love to know more about their break-ins before this one, too. Of course, you'd only need to add that in or consider writing about it, if you expand this piece. I feel like I need to know more about them all, individually and as a group. Dion mentions something about wishing she'd (?) never got sucked into the whole ordeal. Why is that? Why did she do it in the first place? I feel like there's something there with Tyler too, if I'm right about the MC being a girl. Because that's what I'm getting. The part where she's talking about how the other girl's dressed cemented that in my mind. If I'm wrong though, and Dion's a guy, then I think you should add something in so that it's clearer to the reader.

I did find that some parts of this were worded a little awkwardly. The part where the girl's jumper is being described. It's only a really small nit-pik, so I wouldn't worry though.

I found the opening paragraph a little hard to follow at first, but it wasn't until I'd got into the story, that the language you'd used started to make sense. That's nothing to worry about, either. I just thought I'd point it out.

I hope this helps! I really am enjoying your work

xDudettex

Hello there, amygabb! It's been a while since I've reviewed anything, so apologies for being out of practice!

some bits and pieces to begin with:

I crawl along the fence line, detouring around a willow. Pulling on gloves, I dash up the verandah to the back door. Squatting, I remove my tools from my sweater pocket. Inspecting the lock, a smug grin pastes itself to my lips.

I think my problem with this part is that it's all very matter-of-fact, and doesn't feel like there's a great deal fo flow between each individual action. Personally I'd like a little more description, a little fleshing out to these lush surroundings to give it a tad more depth.

He reminds me of the Cheshire Cat from Alice In Wonderland, choosing only to appear when it amuses him.

For some reason, I really like this. It's such a nice image.

It smells like apple pie and my stomach complains dangerously loudly. There is an iPod charging in a dock on the counter.

I would have thought that both of these things would be warning signals if you noticed them while breaking in -- if a house smells like apple pie then possibly there's someone there that's been baking, and if the proff has gone away on a trip wouldn't it be more likely that he'd bring an ipod with him? You could keep these bits in though, work them in as little doubts that Dion has that further unsettle him and make him feel unease.

I freeze in horror. Her carmel-colored hair is pulled up into a messy, lopsided bun and she’s barefoot. She clutches a wireless phone and a can that I bet is pepper spray. She has on gym shorts and an emerald tank top covered by a baggy sweater. Not like my baggy sweater, though, which makes me look stockier, more threatening. Her’s has a logo of an exclusive school near here. And I imagine her sweatshirt isn’t too big for the same reason mine is. I bet it’s her boyfriend’s who is probably going to Yale in the fall.

To me, it seems like too much detail, too much focus. Imagine: you've just broken into a house that you've been lead to believe is empty and it's not -- there's someone there with a phone and a can of mace. Are you really going to dwell on how baggy her sweater is and the school logo on it? They seem to me like the details that'd go unnoticed in the blind panic at realising this has all gone horribly not-as-planned.


Okay, so I quite like this. It has that hook that draws you in and keeps you hanging on until the end. Your characters feel fully formed, even in the short space you've had to develop them, and their reactions, their dialogue, it's all pretty believable.

One other thing that did stick out to me was the ages off the characters. Given that Dion makes a reference to school and teachers, and there's no other information given, I guess I assumed that they were all about the same age, probably between 16-18. That then left me a little at odds with the things that they steal. Zane persuades Tanner to leave the TV and go for the painting. They take the violin too, and these are all things that, when it comes to selling them for a profit, would probably be hard to shift. They're specialist items that would require specialist knowledge to make them worth the time to a thief -- Dion going for the ipod in the dock seems like a much more real-life reaction; to get the goods you know you can get a quick buck for.

Like Dudette I'm left with a lot of questions -- what happens to them afterwards? Who was the girl there? Are they caught, do they feel remorse? On the one hand, part of me would quite like to see this expanded into something a little longer, but on the other I think that it's current length suits it fine. It's a nice little entire window into an event that doesn't demand any more from you.

In any case, I hope that I've been of some help to you! If you have any questions or anything you'd like me to elaborate on, feel free to shoot me a PM and whatnot :D

- tinny