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White Eyes (part one)



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Tue Sep 28, 2010 2:01 am
IgnisandGlacialis says...



Spoiler! :
This is a story I am working on at the moment, and I intend to finish it. It is a fantasy-adventure, although the first part - this part - is really a bit of an introduction to the story, and most of the action comes later on. Still, I hope you enjoy, and if you get to the end of it (please, do try!) reviews are ENORMOUSLY appreciated. If you don't want to read the whole thing, reviews on one of the chapters alone would also be much appreciated. Thank you for your time and advice, and God bless.
- Ignis




Prologue

It is cold and dark.
Where am I?
The trees close in about her like faceless wraiths.
What are they?
The wolves howl a mournful dirge.
Please let them stay away …
The soft breeze sighs and the wood moans and whispers.
They are only trees …
The moon’s shining silver face is concealed behind a veil of dark clouds.
Please let it come out … please …
Boughs form dark shapes and mists drift into shapeless figures.
It is just an illusion … they are not real …
They are coming closer … she cannot escape …
What do you want?
She cannot escape …
Leave me alone!
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE …

Elnari collapsed in a sobbing, bedraggled heap upon the forest floor. Her mind was in turmoil, her limbs trembling with fear and fatigue. She did not know where she was, whether it was night or day … she could not even remember her own name. Her breath came in short, tortured gasps, strangled with sobs. Her matted hair fell over her face like a curtain but she did not attempt to brush it away. She could not think, and she did not care about anything. She screwed up her eyes, waiting for the wolves to attack, for the trees to close in on her, for the wraiths to envelop her … She was certain that she was going to die, or be driven mad by the nameless fear that threatened to engulf her entire being …
Afterwards she could not have said how long she lay there on her bed of rotten leaves, sobbing and gasping, her heart rent with fear. It seemed that time did not exist in that forest, or if it did, it went so slowly that if one waited a hundred years within it one would not have grown a minute older by the time one left it.
After what seemed like an eternity, the wolves stopped howling, and a dead silence fell over the woods. The silence was not that of a peaceful sleep or a moonlit night. It was the silence of death, and terror – stone cold fear – a silence as cold as a gravestone. Elnari felt it in the air; she sensed it in her mind. It weighted down her heart like lead and she feared to look up lest she be struck dead by terror.
Through Elnari’s mind raced a myriad of fevered thoughts, each one inspired by dread, darkness and sudden death. The silence seemed to intensify with every passing moment, and she jerked violently at every snap of a twig, every rustle of the branches surrounding her. Although she never looked up, her mind formed horrific scenes of what might be happening. She imagined, in her delirium, the trees creeping closer to surround her, and every creak of a bough convinced her that they were coming closer, lifting their roots from the ground and creeping forward. The trees developed hideous faces: gnarled, twisted faces that displayed menace and hatred in every groove of bark, every crease and hollow. Elnari wanted to scream and to run, to escape from these monstrous fiends of death. How many innocent travellers had they consumed in their blind, purposeful murder? How many had fallen victim to their cold, dark eyes; the pure terror they inspired?
A sudden, very loud snap caused Elnari to cry out and leap to her feet, trembling from head to foot.
She found that she could not see even a foot in front of her. The pale glow that had shone dimly through the clouds was gone without a trace. The dead silence pressed upon her eardrums. Cold fear struck her. It was not like before. This was real, paralyzing terror. Elnari could not have described it if she had wanted to.
She stopped shivering. Her limbs fell limply to her sides. She felt cold; cold and clammy, and her knees felt suddenly weak, as though her bones had simply melted into oblivion. Her eyes widened and her face contorted into a dreadful expression, mouth agape in a silent scream. Her eyes saw nothing, but she felt it in the air, she heard it through the pounding in her eardrums. Something was moving. Fast. Although it made barely a rustle, her ears picked up the sound of leaves moving across the ground. As the sound grew louder, her limbs tensed and shook, and she uttered a silent moan. The darkness was deepening. As the thing approached, her surroundings seemed to close in around her, smothering her. She could not breathe. She could not think. All she was aware of were the soft rustlings all around and the trembling of the ground.
And then it laughed. The sound was terrible; a low, moaning sound that throbbed in the air. It rose and fell, and reverberated around inside Elnari’s skull. The sound was not loud, but it resonated through the whole forest as a bellow, filled with all the menace and cruel mirth of an ancient being, so filled with memory and long held grudges that Elnari felt as small as a babe. She stood there, enchanted by fear, listening to the melodious rumble in the air until at last, whether by some devilry or sheer exhaustion, her mind went blank, she fell to the ground and she knew no more.


Chapter One: Morgan


“Morgan!”
“I am not coming down, if that’s what you want.”
“Morgan, show yourself this instant.”
“No.”
“You will do as you are told, young lady, and nothing besides.”
“Well, I’ve told myself that I’m going to stay here. For my whole life. For ever.”
“Well, I’m telling you to come down.”
“Well, I don’t care what you think you’re telling me to do, because I told myself that I wouldn’t tell anyone that they could tell me what to do, and therefore you telling me to come down just won’t work!”
“It had better.”
“Or what?”
“Or I get my axe right now, and chop this tree down.”
Morgan’s golden head appeared between two branches. It scrutinized the man underneath her with sceptical eyes.
“You wouldn’t,” said Morgan eventually.
“I would,” assured the man, relieved that he had finally touched bottom.
“You wouldn’t dare,” insisted Morgan. “Mother would kill you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said the man.
“Prove me wrong!”
“What if I kill her first?”
There was a loud rustling sound, and within a few moments Morgan appeared, sliding down the trunk. She ran to the man and folded her arms, a serious frown creasing her brow.
“Now I know you’re lying.”
“Yet you came down.”
“I came down because I was hungry.”
“Oh, so you’re not going to stay up there for the rest of your life?”
“I never said that.”
The odd twosome struck down the road at a leisurely pace. The man, who was Morgan’s father, swung her onto his shoulders.
“Well, I don’t care if you stay up there for forever and day, but you are not going back until you have done your chores.”
“I knew it!”
“You knew what?”
“I knew you only wanted me to come down to do my chores.”
“Of course I did. Why else would I disturb the peace of the Queen of the sacred Elnari Tree?”
Morgan gave a dramatic gasp and almost toppled off her father’s shoulders.
“Careful, you little monkey!” Her father grabbed her just in time and pulled her back up. “You’ll end up killing yourself one day.”
Morgan acted as if nothing had just happened.
“How did you know?”
“Well, the way you keep behaving – ’’
“No, no! How did you know about the Tree?”
“I cannot possibly miss it. You spend half your life up that old tree.”
“But its name, how did you know its name?”
“Why, you spend the other half of your life talking about it!”
“I do?” Morgan looked puzzled for a moment, and then relaxed into her old cheeky grin. “Well, as a man who spends half his life in his shed and the other half talking about it, you are hardly the one to talk!”


“Katrina, I found her!” Morgan and her father had arrived at their old tumbled-down shack, and, in the absence of a door, her father was knocking on the wall and shouting through the doorway.
A rather forceful voice rang through the hallway. “Found, aye,” it said, “but in ‘ow many pieces, is what I’d like to know!”
Morgan’s mother, Katrina, appeared in the hallway, a filthy rag in hand. She was attempting to clean a grimy bowl, but only managing to turn it a darker shade of brown than before. She surveyed the two keenly, her sharp eyes roving over her daughter’s shaggy appearance – the knotted hair, complete with twigs and leaves, the dirty face and the filthy clothing told all.
“You’ve bin climbin’ in that darned tree again,” she observed shortly. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from there? Ya filthy ragamuffin of a girl. When will ye learn? Ah’ve told ye agin an’ agin an’ a hundred times over. Aye, that I ‘ave. but do ye listen? No, sirree, ye don’t!” She bustled off down the hall, muttering to herself and shaking her head.
Morgan stared after her in a confused manner.
“Why doesn’t she like my tree, Father?”
Morgan’s father looked at her fondly. “I expect it is because she is jealous.”
He whispered the last word with all the secrecy of a furtive conspirator, plotting with his allies.
Morgan looked aghast. “No,” she gasped. “Not Mother.”
Her father gave her a grim look.
“If only you knew all the facts,” he said elusively.
He then jumped a mile in the air as a stern voice boomed right beside him.
“Not plottin’ mutiny, I ‘ope, John?” Katrina certainly looked very menacing in her voluminous apron. The impression was enhanced by the rather large wooden ladle she held in her hand. Of course, it might have helped that she had been stirring tomato soup with it a moment before, although Morgan did not know this and hoped that that her last victim had not suffered much.
“Plotting?” Her father looked aghast. “Mutiny? Perish the thought! I was merely having a moment of father-daughter time with Morgan.”
Morgan was hauled up in front of him, in a similar manner to a shield. The ladle certainly looked very menacing as it waved within two inches of her nose.
“Now, John, stop puttin’ ridiculous ideas inna this gal’s ‘ead. If you ain’t careful, she’ll end up just like you!” Katrina glared at Morgan as if daring her to defend her father. “An’ we don’t want that, do we now, girl?”
“No, Mother,” said Morgan cheerfully.
“Good. Now, come an’ help me with lunch.” Katrina set off down the hallway again, Morgan trailing behind, feeling like an ill-fated pig being led off to the slaughter house. She cast a pleading look over her shoulder at her father before disappearing into the kitchen.
Morgan found her mother bent double, reaching into one of the numerous store-cupboards that riddled the walls like rabbit burrows. She waited fearfully as Katrina cursed and muttered to herself, letting her eyes wander over to the large copper pot on the wooden bench, and the un-chopped vegetables that lay beside it like condemned criminals. Morgan wondered what poor soul had fallen victim to the cruel ladle of her mother, and silently swore that however many vegetables were added to the ghastly mixture, she was never going to eat it.
Morgan grew slightly alarmed when her mother extricated herself from the cupboard and emerged clenching a very long, very sharp knife in one fist. As Katrina approached her daughter purposefully, Morgan began to wonder if the victim had not yet been killed. Anyhow, it was likely to be over pretty soon anyway. She slowly backed away, but her mother beat her to the door.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, young lady.”
Morgan was shepherded towards the wooden bench. On her mother’s face was an expression of grim intent. Morgan winced as her mother raised the knife for the fatal blow and pointed it at her chest.
“Now,” she said triumphantly, “start chopping.”

*

Despite any resolutions Morgan had made earlier, she ended up sitting at the dining table half an hour later, a bowl of tomato soup before her. Her insistence that she was not hungry had done absolutely nothing to manipulate her mother. The only sympathy she had received had been rather poor: her father had said, “Well, look on the bright side. It can hardly be any worse than the fried chicken eyes we’re having tomorrow!”
Morgan dolefully watched her mother slurp enormous spoonfuls of the rather lumpy mixture, apparently relishing it. Her father prodded his gingerly with a spoon, and looked rather queasy when it made a squelching noise and wobbled.
Morgan glared suspiciously down at her own. She could have sworn that it was slowly moving, bubbling to the surface.
“Mother,” she said tentatively, “the soup’s moving.” She poked it with a finger and a large slice of celery slid off the top.
“Don’t be an idiot, girl. It’s perfectly fine.”
Morgan was quite aware of that. It was the thought of eating it that made her stomach lurch.
Looking up, she saw that her mother had gone back to eating. Sudden inspiration struck, and glancing around furtively, she tipped the whole bowl down the front of her dress. Morgan experienced a horrible sensation as the mixture dribbled over her chest, down her legs and dripped slowly onto the floor. She smiled brightly as her father looked up, and made a pretense of licking the bowl.
But her father was not interested in that. The first tiny amount of soup dropped from his spoon, and his mouth fell open.
“My God,” he gasped. “What on Earth happened?”
Morgan glanced hastily down at her dress, which had been stained a bright red by the tomato juice. She shifted the bowl casually up to the stain, hiding it from view. Again, she smiled cheerily.
“Oh, that’s my new dress,” she invented wildly. “Mr. Sandy gave it to me for – for my birthday. Don’t you remember?”
She started edging her chair back across the floor. It seemed a hasty escape would soon be required. But her father rose and stared at her.
“No it isn’t,” he whispered. “That’s blood! Morgan, what happened?”
But Morgan was already at the door.
“Blood? Nonsense, Father. It’s just a bit of a … a stain …”
John started hurrying towards her.
“My God, what have you done? What … what are we going to do?”
“It’s alright, Father. Really.” Morgan started edging around the doorframe, soup dripping from her dress with every step.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, young lady! Come back here now.” It was her mother. She had risen from her place at the table and was advancing with long steps. Now was the time to cut and run. Morgan disappeared around the doorframe and sprinted. Out of the front door, through the overgrown hedge and down the dirt road, as fast as her short legs could carry her.
Morgan stopped for breath about a hundred meters down the road, and, thanking the Heavens for her parents’ stumpy legs, proceeded at a more leisurely pace.
She came eventually to the junction. This was where the country road joined up with the more well-trodden road that led to Charicadd Square, and the town that shared its name. It was there that John went to sell his wares. He was a carpenter and created the most beautiful figures out of wood. The trouble was, there was hardly anybody wealthy or sympathetic enough to by them. When somebody did, the money was enough to last about two weeks before the family relapsed into their previous state of poverty.
It was also here, at this junction, that Morgan could find a very familiar landmark. This was in the form of a very old, gnarled tree. It stood right on the roadside, its thick roots protruding forward onto the path like the vines of a creeper, seeking to choke all in its path. At some points the roots threaded through the ground like thread on a needle, disappearing underneath the dust and reappearing a couple of yards across the path.
Morgan smiled as she spotted the tree. The sight always filled her with joy and comfort, but there was also another feeling that she could never quite explain. It was as if she and the tree shared something, a deep secret and understanding that reached very far back, deep within the vaults of history. She knew that the impression was childish, but she could never quite shake it off.
Putting aside her thoughts, she ran to the tree as if it were a long-lost friend. Reaching it, she stroked the rough bark fondly. She whispered gently to the tree, and pressed her ear against the trunk as if listening for something. The feel of the trunk was strong and firm, and it was warmed by the sun. As always, she could hear the steady pounding of blood in her ears, and, as always, she could hear … something else. It was very hard to detect, but it was still there – a steady throbbing, or humming, that emanated from the bark and seemed to issue from the very heart of the tree.
Morgan stood there listening for a while – the sound was so soothing, so strangely familiar – and then pulled her head away from the trunk and started to climb. It seemed, as always, that the trunk formed footholds wherever her feet landed, and that the branches reached down to pull her up. She almost floated up the tree, her arms hauling herself up as easily as if she were a feather.
Reaching what she fondly called ‘the living room’, which was a wide, flat platform closest to the lowest branches, Morgan sat down and turned her face towards the sun, feeling its soft rays upon her rough skin. She loved the feeling – it was like warm water seeping through her skin, into her very core, and soaking her in its soft presence.
After a while, as was her nature, Morgan grew bored of the stillness, and started to climb again. She climbed much higher this time, reaching a special fork between two thinner branches. This was where her father had found her earlier on. She had chosen to hide there because of its extreme seclusion and shelter – the leaves were so thick at this point; it was impossible for anyone on the path below to spy a little fair-haired girl nestled between two branches. More than that, though … it was as if, whenever Morgan was in this tree – or any tree, really – she camouflaged perfectly with the bark and green leaves. No matter what she might be wearing – although she had only one piece of clothing – she could not be seen when up a tree.
It was for these reasons, coupled with her silence, that when the strangers passed by underneath her – not on the road but in the bush – they neither saw her nor perceived that she was there.
Neither could Morgan distinguish them properly. They were like men, hooded and cloaked, yet they hunched over so that they seemed children, and their cloaks seemed more like their skin or shrouds of shadow than pieces of clothing. They did not say any distinguishable words, but Morgan’s sharp ears could catch a very soft, varying humming sound. Morgan felt strangely soothed by it, and soon she found herself swaying gently to the ‘music’, as her ears perceived it, and it was only the strong arm of her tree that prevented her from falling. Indeed, as she swayed, her ear pressed against the branch, and, stronger than ever, the much deeper, much more reassuring hum of the Elnari tree penetrated her eardrums. Morgan stopped swaying immediately, and suddenly the voices of the strangers came clear to her ears, and they were no longer soothing, but cold and purposeful. It seemed as though the Elnari tree was giving her the benefit of its ears, as it could understand all languages, vile and fair. And Morgan perceived their words:

From land of woe
To land of foe
With voices sweet
And hearts that reek
By Evil’s hand
Far from His land
Our candles call
And strong men fall.


From world of hell
To gilded Bell
With lights that shine
And hearts of slime
Intent to kill
Held by His will
Condemned to life
Bound by the Knife.


Morgan’s breath caught in her throat. Her blood pounded frantically in her ears, and she pulled her head viciously from the tree branch, unable to bear any more of the terrible verse. She knew now that the soothing humming was no more than a façade, and their evil words revealed their intent.
She wanted to scream, to tear away from the tree and run, run as fast as she could. She wanted to warn her family before these foul beings reached the town.
But before Morgan could make a move, the sound was gone without a trace. It had vanished along with any trace of the shadowy figures.
Morgan sat there, heart pounding like a frantic animal behind the bars of her ribcage, for what seemed like an eternity. Then her senses returned, and she climbed faster than ever she had before, slid down the trunk and ran.
As she ran, she thought. From land of woe … they came from the Dark lands … to land of foe … they were enemies … with voices sweet … that humming … but hearts that reek … that much was obvious …
By the time Morgan had figured out most of the vile poem, she had reached her home. Racing through the door, she collapsed onto the table and gasped, quite out of breath. Not a second had passed before she felt strong hands lift her, and she found herself staring into the anxious face of her father.
“Morgan, are you all right?” His voice seemed to be fading. “Morgan, what is wrong?” Fading into the distance …
Morgan was abruptly aroused by a splash of very cold, very refreshing water. She gasped, and her eyes flew open.
“Father,” she whispered, breathless. “There were … three of them… they – they were hunched like … like children … they want to … to kill somebody, Father …” It seemed very important that he know immediately.
But John was not interested.
“We figured what happened to your soup,” he smiled, and then frowned again. “But that is no excuse for what you did – leaving us sick with worry, thinking that you were going to go off and die somewhere …”
“No, Father. You do not understand. That’s not important anymore. They are going to kill someone, Father!”
John frowned. He obviously thought that she was trying to scare him.
“Now, stop your fibbing,” he scolded. “Nobody is trying to kill us.”
“But, Father …”
“No ‘buts’! You are to go off to your room right now and calm down, or I will make you. Understand? Off you go!”
“But … where is Mother?”
“She went out looking for you. See the trouble you have caused, you and your foolish little tricks?”
“Oh no,” gasped Morgan. Without a second thought, she was again out of the room and out the door.
“Morgan! Come back here immediately, young lady!” But her father’s cries fell on deaf ears. Morgan was already halfway down the garden path.
Soon she came to the road, and without stopping for breath, ran on. It was not long before she reached the Charicadd Town junction, and here she stopped. Her mother was nowhere to be seen. Surely she had not walked all the way to the town?
Glancing from side to side, Morgan decided that the best way to find her mother would be to climb the Elnari tree and try to see her. If she was anywhere near, Morgan would find her. The Tree was by far the tallest for miles around and one perching at the very top would be able to see for just as far.
So Morgan began climbing. This time she did not stop to listen to the tree, but carried on hauling herself up, branch by branch, until she was higher than she had ever been before. As her head breached the very top branches, a breathtaking scope of the landscape was laid out before her. It was as though she was a giant, observing a beautiful map crafted by the gods themselves for her very own viewing leisure. But Morgan was not interested in the view. As she scanned the dull twilit forest below her, she caught – or fancied she caught – a glimmer of light, far away, deep in the forest. She glared hard at the spot for at least two minutes, but the light did not appear again. Just as she was ready to look somewhere else, Morgan caught it again, a little further away this time. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted with all her might. “MOTHER!”
The light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
“MOTHER, MOTHER, MOTHER!” Morgan yelled and yelled, willing her mother to hear her.
Then something completely unexpected happened. There seemed to be a disturbance in the air around the spot the light had disappeared. The wind stirred up the treetops and birds flew into the air, crying madly. Then the wind seemed to change direction. It advanced rapidly towards Morgan, sending up a storm of birds and tearing down trees in its path. Morgan opened her mouth in a silent scream, her eyes opening wide as the storm approached. Suddenly something equally unexpected happened. The bark beneath her fingers began to vibrate and throb, the sensation growing with every passing moment. Soon it was audible; a long, low throbbing that filled her head with sound. It grew and grew until the entire forest vibrated with it, and Morgan’s grasp on the tree went limp. She closed her eyes as she fell.

*

“Morgan.”
Morgan heard the voice, but she did not perceive its meaning, nor did she care what it said.
“Morgan, listen to me.”
Morgan knew the voice. She was sure that she knew it. It sounded very familiar, but she could not put her finger on it.
“Morgan, wake up, gal!”
Morgan’s eyes flew open. Sure enough, her mother’s face was floating above her, anxious eyes peeing keenly into her own.
“Oh, thank the gods, Morgan,” she sighed. “I thought you was dead, I did.”
“Mother …”
“Shush. You just had a nasty fall; ya shouldn’t be wastin’ your breath.”
“But Mother, what … what happened …”
“No need ta be botherin’ yourself with that, young lady. Now, if you’ll just try ta stand up for me …”
Morgan tried, but her legs collapsed underneath her.
“That’s it,” said her mother. “Take it easy … I only need ye to lift yourself a bit … good … there!”
Her mother hauled her to her feet. She then hoisted her daughter onto her back and took a few stumbling feet forward.
“I feel a bit weak meself, ye see …” Katrina grunted and pushed forward, up the grassy bank by the roots of the Elnari tree.
Soon she and her small bundle reached the road, where they found John looking around, obviously very anxious. His jaw dropped as he saw the two of them.
“Why … Katrina … Morgan … what …?” He hurried forward, relieving his wife of her burden. He laid Morgan gently down on the ground. She had clearly fainted. He looked up at his wife with wide eyes. “What happened?”
“Fell,” was Katrina’s abrupt reply.
John’s eyes travelled up the trunk of the Elnari tree, to the very highest branches where Morgan had been.
“My God,” he said softly. “Come on, we need to get her home.”
As Katrina clearly lacked some of her former strength, her husband took it upon himself to carry his daughter home. By the time they were back, it was pitch black. Morgan had reawakened and was breathing normally.
After a thorough examination of her, to ensure that she had suffered no broken bones – “It’s a bloody miracle,” said her mother – Morgan was allowed to lie down in her room and rest, though not without many reassurances that she was ‘in for it’ tomorrow.
‘Rest’ was the last thing that Morgan wanted to do. She lay awake on her narrow bed in the smothering dark, thinking and worrying. Thinking about the most puzzling lines of the evil verses she had heard earlier – our candles call and strong men fall … condemned to life, bound by the knife – what was that all about? And worrying – worrying about where the little hunched figures were now, worrying about her mother … did they really lead her into the forest, as Morgan had assumed they had? And if so, was she any safer right now than she had been then? The thought chilled Morgan to the bone, and she decided to go and check on her mother, just in case.
Katrina lay peacefully on her bed, no differently from the way she had done every other day of her life. Morgan watched her thoughtfully for a while, and then turned to leave. As she did, however, her mother stirred and softly called her name.
“Morgan …”
Morgan crept back towards her.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Morgan, it’s the middle of the night.”
“I know, Mother.”
“So why are ye here?”
“I …” Morgan thought quickly. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“And what might that be?” Katrina sat up and peered at her daughter through the darkness.
“It’s just …” Morgan thought again. “Where did you go when you went searching for me?”
In the gloom Morgan could see a little frown appear on her mother’s face.
“Where was I … where was I …”
Morgan waited patiently.
“I don’t really know what happened, truth be told,” said Katrina eventually. “One moment I was walkin’ down the path, looking for you, and the next …”
“What happened next, Mother?” Prompted Morgan gently.
“Well, I dunno, do I?” Katrina suddenly sounded irritable. “But I do know that one moment I was in one place, and the next I was somewhere completely different.”
“Where was the other place, Mother?”
“The woods. I found myself in the woods. There was an awful windstorm, an’ I found myself in the middle of the forest. An’ I saw …”
“What did you see?” whispered Morgan. It was all making sense.
“I saw smoke,” answered Katrina. “Smoke all around, and nothin’ else. An’ then there was this awful sound …” she shuddered. “It was so deep, and so low, and so angry. It throbbed, if ye know what I mean. An’ it grew louder, an’ louder … even when I covered my ears it was ‘orrible. But it did seem to blow away the smoke, and it stopped the windstorm. An’ then everythin’ was quiet, an’ I could see agin.”
“But … was there anything else, before the sound?”
“I told ye, didn’ I?”
“Yes, but … could there possibly have been any … any lights?”
“Good Heavens, child, why would there be any lights? There was just smoke, as I told ye.”
“Oh.”
“So then, I found my tracks – which was odd, might I add, as I’d just appeared, as I thought, plus the windstorm should’ve blown ‘em away – and I followed ‘em. An’ they led me ta you. You was just lying there, all alone an’ out cold, at the foot of your beloved tree. I thought you was dead, as I say. It’s a bloody miracle in itself that you wasn’t injured. You should count yourself lucky.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“But it don’t mean ta say you’re gettin’ away with it just yet.”
“No, Mother.”
“Alright, then. Off ya go.” Katrina lay back down and watched her daughter tiptoe out of her room. Then she closed her eyes and thought of their conversation.
It was very odd, now she came to think about it. She tried to remember straying off the path and into the forest, but any memory of anything like that had gone beyond recall. Very odd … Katrina suddenly felt very tired. She had just begun to drift off when her eyes flew open and her heartbeat intensified a thousand-fold. She heard it. The humming. It was so soft, so melodious. She felt her mind drift into oblivion as the sound numbed her senses. They were calling … the voices were calling … she heard what they said as clearly as if they had been speaking in words …

Follow the candles.
Last edited by IgnisandGlacialis on Thu Nov 04, 2010 11:20 pm, edited 16 times in total.
The POTATO of DOOM

A thousand times it calls your name
A thousand times you hear it
And fools are those who heed its call
But fools are those who fear it.


The Interesting Thoughts of Edward Monkton
  





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Wed Sep 29, 2010 3:05 pm
seeminglymeaningless says...



Hey IG, I'm Jai.

So, first off I'll tell you this quickly, though you don't need to listen to me. But I've been on YWS a long time, and this is a huge post. This should definitely be broken up into chapters. As such, I'm just going to review the Prologue. Feel free to ask for future reviews on the Will Review For Food forum.

Second, there's really nifty option under the "submit" part that you can select to auto-format your story to make it look really nicely set out and allow the reader to read it without straining their eyes. While this is not a requirement on YWS, you'll find you attract more reviewers if your story doesn't look like a huge wall of text.

IgnisandGlacialis wrote:This is a story I am working on at the moment, and I intend to finish it. It is a fantasy-adventure, although the first part - this part - is really a bit of an introduction to the story, and most of the action comes later on. Still, I hope you enjoy, and if you get to the end of it (please, do try!) reviews are ENOURMOUSLY appreciated. Thank you for your time and advice, and God bless.
- Ignis

Your Author's Note should be in a spoiler so it doesn't detract from the story. Also, make sure to run your story through a spell check before you submit. In your author's note, enormously is spelt wrong.

Elnari collapsed in a sobbing, bedraggled heap upon the forest floor. Her mind was in turmoil, her limbs trembling with fear and fatigue. She did not know where she was, whether it was night or day … she could not even remember her own name. Her breath came in short, tortured gasps, strangled with sobs. Her matted hair fell over her face like a curtain but she did not attempt to brush it away. She could not think, and she did not care about anything. She screwed up her eyes, waiting for the wolves to attack, for the trees to close in on her, for the wraiths to envelop her … She was certain that she was going to die, or be driven mad by the nameless fear that threatened to engulf her entire being …

This is a really decent start to a story, but are all those ellipses necessary?

After what seemed like an eternity, the wolves stopped howling, and now a dead silence fell over the woods.

Also, I've begun to notice a lot of repetition. Just have a look through and see how many times you used the word "silence". You can easily find a thesaurus and find a few alternative words.

This was real, paralyzing terror. Elnari could not have described it if she had wanted to.

This is a contradiction :)

I loved this! I disliked the clichéd ending - did everything really "have to go black"? I really enjoyed reading this. You were awfully descriptive, and I found you repeated yourself a few times, but I found I didn't mind. You know you're a good writer when a reader knows that the character is scared, but doesn't mind reading how scared she was over and over again.

I can't really draw much more information from the prologue, as a prologue, it's pretty decent. It's not boring, it's not long. It's descriptive and you have injected so much emotion it's amazing.

If you set out the rest of your work so I can read it without causing my eyes to bleed with the strain, I'll certainly come back and review the rest!

- Jai

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Sat Oct 02, 2010 5:25 pm
Pretty Crazy says...



Good day,

I agree with seeminglymeanless, this is a terrifyingly large post! Really, it would be so much better if you posted the parts separately.
Now, I only got to chapter two, so I can only comment on chapter 1. First off, you have a unique and enjoyable writing style. I liked how things were humorous at times and dramatic at others. Morgan really has a deep connection with her father, but what of her mother? Sometimes it's as if she's scared of her and that Katrina is really mean. Other times she shows up as a more motherly figure. Still, she's a very interesting character (Katrina, I mean). Not your average, cliche mother is she? :)

And Morgan, I fell in love with this character. Sweet, quirky, mischievous. The part where she dumps the soup down her shirt is hilarious! What a great way to show who she is. The only thing is, you don't clarify her age exactly.

I'm not quite sure how the prologue connects with the story, however. It sure makes one want to read and find out!

And the strange men, I want to know who they are. Again, I did not read chapter 2. The appearance of these mysterious men make me want to read on even more.

In conclusion, this is an amazing piece of literature! It's so unique. I can't think of anything even similar to it. You have created your own world. This has a ton of potential, as do you. I think you've got talent, a lot of talent.
I may be back to review the second chapter. Thank you for sharing this incredible story.

Sincerely,
~Crazy :P
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Tue Oct 05, 2010 3:30 pm
Tenyo says...



Hiya Iggie!

To start with, the prologue.
I'm not overly keen on the prologue. There's a big description about a girl who is scared, but it doesn't really do much. First you need to introduce this girl, give the reader a reason to care about her, or take an interest. Right now she's just a girl who is so frightened she can't walk, so one has to wonder if she can make a story.

Fear.
Describing fear, means showing fear to your reader. That doesn't mean your reader will understand and empathise right away. When I was looking at Elnari, so scared and helpless, I felt like I was looking at someone a bit pathetic. It inspired in me emotions of doubt, since I was wondering if this story would actually be able to go anywhere with a character like her in it.
To inspire fear you've got to give your reader a reason to be scared. Metaphors and similaes are good. Having a particular comfort fail is a good idea too, like when children think 'if I can count to ten without hearing a noise then nothing can hurt me,' then when they get to six there's a big bang somewhere nearby.

As for chapter one:
I love the opening. Listening to Morgan and her Dad have that argument was funny, but suddenly finding out she was in a tree made it even more entertaining. I think you've brought her to life very well. I like her parents too, they have conflicting personalities without either of them being portrayed as the 'evil parent.'

I think you could dwell on this happy little family for a bit longer before going on to the sinister people and strange happenings. Maybe just throw in a hint that something is wrong. You need to spend a little longer establishing this family, and Morgans personality, before having them going places and being controlled beyond their will.

Overall
This is a good first chapter. It needs a few tweaks, but I think it is a solid start for a novel. I shall read the rest later :)
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Mon Oct 18, 2010 11:23 am
Jashael says...



Hello, Ig (hope the nickname's fine)!

First, I thank you for your request. =) So here comes our review. Though, I have to tell you that, I'll review the prologue first before the Chapter. It's quite a lengthy piece and it will be better if my review is broken up into two posts.

My comments will be in pinkish font.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PROLOGUE

It is cold and dark.

Where am I?

Your story is told in third person; therefore, the italicized words should be the girl's thoughts, NOT the narrator. It kind of confuses the reader when the format is wrong.

The trees close in about her like faceless wraiths.

What are they?

The wolves howl a mournful dirge.


Please let them stay away …

The soft breeze sighs and the wood moans and whispers.

They are only trees …

The moon’s shining silver face is concealed behind a veil of dark clouds.

Please let it come out … please …

Boughs form dark shapes and mists drift into shapeless figures.

It is just an illusion … they are not real …

They are coming closer … she cannot escape …

What do you want?

She cannot escape …

Leave me alone!

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE …


Though I really like the emphasis of the previous sentence, it is really confusing. Who is talking? :|

Elnari collapsed in a sobbing, bedraggled heap upon the forest floor. Her mind was in turmoil, her limbs trembling with fear and fatigue. She did not know where she was, whether it was night or day … Ellipses should be used for threatening effect. Try to delete this and simply start a new sentence. she could not even remember her own name. Her breath came in short, tortured gasps, strangled with sobs. Her matted hair fell over her face like a curtain but she did not attempt to brush it away. She could not think, and she did not care about anything. She screwed up her eyes, waiting for the wolves to attack, for the trees to close in on her, for the wraiths to envelop her …The ellipses are honestly distracting. She was certain that she was going to die, no commaor be driven mad by the nameless fear that threatened to engulf her entire being … Eliminate the ellipses, please.

Afterwards she could not have said how long she lay there on her bed of rotten leaves, sobbing and gasping, her heart rent with fear. It seemed that time did not exist in that forest, or if it did, it went so slowly that if one waited a hundred years within it commaone would not have grown a minute older by the time one left it.

After what seemed like an eternity, the wolves stopped howling, and a dead silence fell over the woods. The silence was not that of a peaceful sleep or a moonlit night. It was the silence of death, and terror – stone cold fear – a silence as cold as a gravestone. Elnari felt it in the air; she sensed it in her mind. It weighted down her heart like lead and she feared to look up lest she be struck dead by terror.

I love that paragraph! The images, the descriptions. I just love it. XD

Through Elnari’s mind raced a myriad of fevered thoughts, semicolon?each one inspired by dread, darkness and sudden death. The silence seemed to intensify with every passing moment, and she jerked violently at every snap of a twig, delete comma, replace with andevery rustle of the branches surrounding her. Although she never looked up, her mind formed horrific scenes of what might be happening. She imagined, in her delirium, the trees creeping closer to surround her, and every creak of a bough convinced her that they were coming closer, lifting their roots from the ground and creeping forward. The trees developed hideous faces: gnarled, twisted faces that displayed menace and hatred in every groove of bark, every crease and hollow. Elnari wanted to scream and to run, to escape from these monstrous fiends of death. How many innocent travellers do you live in UK?had they consumed in their blind, purposeful murder? How many had fallen victim to their cold, dark eyes; Comma or em-dash, the semicolon is inappropriate because the following line is a clause.the pure terror they inspired?

A sudden, very loud snap caused Elnari to cry out and leap to her feet, trembling from head to foot.

She found that she could not see even a foot in front of her. The pale glow that had shone dimly through the clouds was gone without a trace. The dead silence pressed upon her eardrums. Cold fear struck her. It was not like before. This was real, paralyzing terror. Elnari could not have described it if she had wanted to.

She stopped shivering. Her limbs fell limply to her sides. She felt cold; commacold and clammy, and her knees felt suddenly weak, as though her bones had simply melted into oblivion. Her eyes widened and her face contorted into a dreadful expression, mouth agape in a silent scream. Her eyes saw nothing, but she felt it in the air, she heard it through the pounding in her eardrums. Something was moving. Fast. Although it made barely a rustle, her ears picked up the sound of leaves moving across the ground. As the sound grew louder, her limbs tensed and shook, and she uttered a silent moan. The darkness was deepening. As the thing approached, her surroundings seemed to close in around her, smothering her. She could not breathe. She could not think. All she was aware of were the soft rustlings all around and the trembling of the ground.

And then it laughed. The sound was terrible;em-dash a low, moaning sound that throbbed in the air. It rose and fell, and reverberated around inside Elnari’s skull. The sound was not loud, but it resonated through the whole forest as a bellow, filled with all the menace and cruel mirth of an ancient being, so filled with memory and long held grudges that Elnari felt as small as a babe. She stood there, enchanted by fear, listening to the melodious rumble in the air until at last, whether by some devilry or sheer exhaustion, her mind went blank, Period. New sentenceshe fell to the ground and she knew no more.


*Gasp*
This is AWESOME. Your descriptions are great! The story is filled with suspense! Except for the punctuations and the first lines, I don't really have any other nit-picks on this. Keep it up!
Last edited by Jashael on Mon Oct 18, 2010 3:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Mon Oct 18, 2010 3:08 pm
Jashael says...



“Morgan!”

“I am not coming down, if that’s what you want.”

“Morgan, show yourself this instant.”

“No.”

“You will do as you are told, young lady, and nothing besides.”

“Well, I’ve told myself that I’m going to stay here. For my whole life. For ever.Forver =)

“Well, I’m telling you to come down.”

“Well, I don’t care what you think you’re telling me to do, because I told myself that I wouldn’t tell anyone that they could tell me what to do, and therefore you telling me to come down just won’t work!”

“It had better.”

“Or what?”

“Or I get my axe right now, and chop this tree down.”

Morgan’s golden head appeared between two branches. It scrutinized the man underneath her with sceptical eyes.

“You wouldn’t,” said Morgan eventually.

“I would,” assured the man, relieved that he had finally touched bottom.

“You wouldn’t dare,” insisted Morgan. “Mother would kill you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said the man.

“Prove me wrong!”

“What if I kill her first?”

There was a loud rustling sound, and within a few moments Morgan appeared, sliding down the trunk. She ran to the man and folded her arms, a serious frown creasing her brow.

“Now I know you’re lying.”

“Yet you came down.”

“I came down because I was hungry.”

“Oh, so you’re not going to stay up there for the rest of your life?”

“I never said that.”

The odd twosome struck down the road at a leisurely pace. The man, who was Morgan’s father, swung her onto his shoulders.

“Well, I don’t care if you stay up there for forever and day, but you are not going back until you have done your chores.”

“I knew it!”

“You knew what?”

“I knew you only wanted me to come down to do my chores.”

“Of course I did. Why else would I disturb the peace of the Queen of the sacred Elnari Tree?”

Morgan gave a dramatic gasp and almost toppled off her father’s shoulders.

“Careful, you little monkey!” Her father grabbed her just in time and pulled her back up. “You’ll end up killing yourself one day.”

Morgan acted as if nothing had just happened.

“How did you know?”

“Well, the way you keep behaving–-’’

“No, no! How did you know about the Tree?”

“I cannot possibly miss it. You spend half your life up that old tree.”

“But its name, how did you know its name?”

“Why, you spend the other half of your life talking about it!”

“I do?” Morgan looked puzzled for a moment, and then relaxed into her old cheeky grin. “Well, as a man who spends half his life in his shed and the other half talking about it, you are hardly the one to talk!”



“Katrina, I found her!” Morgan and her father had arrived at their old tumbled-down shack, and, in the absence of a door, her father was knocking on the wall and shouting through the doorway.

A rather forceful voice rang through the hallway. “Found, aye,” it said, “but in ‘ow many pieces, is what I’d like to know!”

Morgan’s mother, Katrina, appeared in the hallway, a filthy rag in hand. She was attempting to clean a grimy bowl, but only managing to turn it a darker shade of brown than before. She surveyed the two keenly, her sharp eyes roving over her daughter’s shaggy appearance–- (If an em-dash won't appear, use two hyphens =) )the knotted hair, complete with twigs and leaves, the dirty face and the filthy clothing told all.

“You’ve bin climbin’ in that darned tree again,” she observed shortly. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from there? Ya filthy ragamuffin of a girl. When will ye learn? Ah’ve told ye agin an’ agin an’ a hundred times over. Aye, that I ‘ave. but do ye listen? No, sirree, ye don’t!” She bustled off down the hall, muttering to herself and shaking her head.

Morgan stared after her in a confused manner.

“Why doesn’t she like my tree, Father?”

Morgan’s father looked at her fondly. “I expect it is because she is jealous.”

He whispered the last word with all the secrecy of a furtive conspirator, plotting with his allies.

Morgan looked aghast. “No,” she gasped. “Not Mother.”

Her father gave her a grim look.

“If only you knew all the facts,” he said elusively.

He then jumped a mile in the air as a stern voice boomed right beside him.

“Not plottin’ mutiny, I ‘ope, John?” Katrina certainly looked very menacing in her voluminous apron. The impression was enhanced by the rather large wooden ladle she held in her hand. Of course, it might have helped that she had been stirring tomato soup with it a moment before, although Morgan did not know this and hoped that that her last victim had not suffered much.

“Plotting?” Her father looked aghast. “Mutiny? Perish the thought! I was merely having a moment of father-daughter time with Morgan.”

Morgan was hauled up in front of him, in a similar manner to a shield. The ladle certainly looked very menacing as it waved within two inches of her nose.

“Now, John, stop puttin’ ridiculous ideas inna this gal’s ‘ead. If you ain’t careful, she’ll end up just like you!” Katrina glared at Morgan as if daring her to defend her father. “An’ we don’t want that, do we now, girl?”

“No, Mother,” said Morgan cheerfully.

“Good. Now, come an’ help me with lunch.” Katrina set off down the hallway again, Morgan trailing behind, feeling like an ill-fated pig being led off to the slaughter house. She cast a pleading look over her shoulder at her father before disappearing into the kitchen.

Morgan found her mother bent double, reaching into one of the numerous store-cupboards that riddled the walls like rabbit burrows. She waited fearfully as Katrina cursed and muttered to herself, letting her eyes wander over to the large copper pot on the wooden bench, and the un-chopped vegetables that lay beside it like condemned criminals. Morgan wondered what poor soul had fallen victim to the cruel ladle of her mother, and silently swore that however many vegetables were added to the ghastly mixture, she was never going to eat it.

Morgan grew slightly alarmed when her mother extricated herself from the cupboard and emerged clenching a very long, very sharp knife in one fist. As Katrina approached her daughter purposefully, Morgan began to wonder if the victim had not yet been killed. Anyhow, it was likely to be over pretty soon anyway. She slowly backed away, but her mother beat her to the door.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, young lady.”

Morgan was shepherded towards the wooden bench. On her mother’s face was an expression of grim intent. Morgan winced as her mother raised the knife for the fatal blow and pointed it at her chest.

“Now,” she said triumphantly, “start chopping.”


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

I am impressed, Ignis. I am truly impressed. You are good! =| Nothing to nitpick there! XD The story is interesting as well. Man! You are perfect for fantasy. I'm still not quite sure, but I have a feeling you have created your own magical world, eh? I'd have to find out. =)
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Mon Oct 18, 2010 3:39 pm
cosby says...



Wow.
Okay, I thought this was amazing. Really, really, really good. I like to keep an eye on the fantasy forum, because it is my favourite genre. When I came upon this, I'm fairly sure my jaw dropped.
Yeah, sure, it's long. But I like long, Long is good. Long is something you can get your teeth stuck into.

I'm not going to do a review like some people do on here - detailed, nit picky. It's not really my sort of thing. Instead, I'm going to tell you how I felt.

It is cold and dark.
Where am I?
The trees close in about her like faceless wraiths.
What are they?
The wolves howl a mournful dirge.
Please let them stay away …
The soft breeze sighs and the wood moans and whispers.
They are only trees …
The moon’s shining silver face is concealed behind a veil of dark clouds.
Please let it come out … please …
Boughs form dark shapes and mists drift into shapeless figures.
It is just an illusion … they are not real …
They are coming closer … she cannot escape …
What do you want?
She cannot escape …
Leave me alone!
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE …


This piece really got me into the story. Immediately, you've got me asking questions, wanting to know what's going on. I really like the way you've written it.
The rest of the prologue as well. It all seemed to flow smoothly, and I felt what seemed like the right emotions, if you get what I mean... probably not.

“Morgan!”
“I am not coming down, if that’s what you want.”
“Morgan, show yourself this instant.”
“No.”
“You will do as you are told, young lady, and nothing besides.”
“Well, I’ve told myself that I’m going to stay here. For my whole life. For ever.”
“Well, I’m telling you to come down.”
“Well, I don’t care what you think you’re telling me to do, because I told myself that I wouldn’t tell anyone that they could tell me what to do, and therefore you telling me to come down just won’t work!”
“It had better.”
“Or what?”
“Or I get my axe right now, and chop this tree down.”
Morgan’s golden head appeared between two branches. It scrutinized the man underneath her with sceptical eyes.
“You wouldn’t,” said Morgan eventually.
“I would,” assured the man, relieved that he had finally touched bottom.
“You wouldn’t dare,” insisted Morgan. “Mother would kill you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said the man.
“Prove me wrong!”
“What if I kill her first?


I felt this really introduced the chapter really well. Again, it seemed to go really smoothly. It introduces the characters really well, giving you a nice feel of their personality's, etc.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, young lady.”
Morgan was shepherded towards the wooden bench. On her mother’s face was an expression of grim intent. Morgan winced as her mother raised the knife for the fatal blow and pointed it at her chest.
“Now,” she said triumphantly, “start chopping.”


Loved this. Really made me laugh! :)

From land of woe
To land of foe
With voices sweet
And hearts that reek
By Evil’s hand
Far from His land
Our candles call
And strong men fall.


From world of hell
To gilded Bell
With lights that shine
And hearts of slime
Intent to kill
Held by His will
Condemned to life
Bound by the Knife


Skipping a bit here I know. I liked this bit as well. It's not too short or too long, it's easy to read. I know when I read Lord Of The Rings everytime I got to one of the long poems or songs, my brain just sort of switched off. I'd end up skipping some of the pages. So, thumbs up!

“Morgan.”
Morgan heard the voice, but she did not perceive its meaning, nor did she care what it said.
“Morgan, listen to me.”
Morgan knew the voice. She was sure that she knew it. It sounded very familiar, but she could not put her finger on it.
“Morgan, wake up, gal!”
Morgan’s eyes flew open. Sure enough, her mother’s face was floating above her, anxious eyes peeing keenly into her own.
“Oh, thank the gods, Morgan,” she sighed. “I thought you was dead, I did.”


I don't know about this bit. I liked it, it was good. But Morgan fainted just a while back, running to her parents. And then again just after this bit. It just seems a bit like one time to many.

She had just begun to drift off when her eyes flew open and her heartbeat intensified a thousand-fold. She heard it. The humming. It was so soft, so melodious. She felt her mind drift into oblivion as the sound numbed her senses. They were calling … the voices were calling … she heard what they said as clearly as if they had been speaking in words …

Follow the candles.


I loved how you ended this! It really made me want to read more. Cruel really - when are you going to post some more up? :) :)
I really enjoyed reading this. Sometimes when I'm reading YWS posts, I start wondering when they're going to end. This just made me want to know more, read more... I really enjoyed it!

You're probably wondering if I'm going to end now, so I'd better stop. Just one more time though - I thought this was amazing! How long have you been working on this? :) :) :)

-Cosby

(Woah, just previewed this post. I really used the word really a lot! oops...)
- From the moment I picked your book up until I laid it down I was convulsed with laughter. Some day I intend reading it -

- If the doctor told me I had 6 minutes left to live, I'd type faster -


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Tue Oct 19, 2010 2:17 am
Jashael says...



Despite any resolutions Morgan had made earlier, she ended up sitting at the dining table half an hour later, a bowl of tomato soup before her. Her insistence that she was not hungry had done absolutely nothing to manipulate her mother. The only sympathy she had received had been rather poor: her father had said, “Well, look on the bright side. It can hardly be any worse than the fried chicken eyes we’re having tomorrow!”

Morgan dolefully watched her mother slurp enormous spoonfuls of the rather lumpy mixture, apparently relishing it. Her father prodded his gingerly with a spoon, and looked rather queasy when it made a squelching noise and wobbled.

Morgan glared suspiciously down at her own. She could have sworn that it was slowly moving, bubbling to the surface.

“Mother,” she said tentatively, “the soup’s moving.” She poked it with a finger and a large slice of celery slid off the top.

“Don’t be an idiot, girl. It’s perfectly fine.”

Morgan was quite aware of that. It was the thought of eating it that made her stomach lurch.

Looking up, she saw that her mother had gone back to eating. Sudden inspiration struck, and glancing around furtively, she tipped the whole bowl down the front of her dress. Morgan experienced a horrible sensation as the mixture dribbled over her chest, down her legs and dripped slowly onto the floor. She smiled brightly as her father looked up, and made a pretense of licking the bowl.

But her father was not interested in that. The first tiny amount of soup dropped from his spoon, and his mouth fell open.

“My God,” he gasped. “What on Earth happened?”

Morgan glanced hastily down at her dress, which had been stained a bright red by the tomato juice. She shifted the bowl casually up to the stain, hiding it from view. Again, she smiled cheerily.

“Oh, that’s my new dress,” she invented wildly. “Mr. Sandy gave it to me for – for my birthday. Don’t you remember?”

She started edging her chair back across the floor. It seemed a hasty escape would soon be required. But her father rose and stared at her.

“No it isn’t,” he whispered. “That’s blood! Morgan, what happened?”

But Morgan was already at the door.

“Blood? Nonsense, Father. It’s just a bit of a … a stain …”

Joe started hurrying towards her.

“My God, what have you done? What … what are we going to do?”

“It’s alright, Father. Really.” Morgan started edging around the doorframe, soup dripping from her dress with every step.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, young lady! Come back here now.” It was her mother. She had risen from her place at the table and was advancing with long steps. Now was the time to cut and run. Morgan disappeared around the doorframe and sprinted. Out of the front door, through the overgrown hedge and down the dirt road, as fast as her short legs could carry her.

Morgan stopped for breath about a hundred meters down the road, and, thanking the Heavens for her parents’ stumpy legs, proceeded at a more leisurely pace.

She came eventually to the junction. This was where the country road joined up with the more well-trodden road that led to Charicadd Square and the town that shared its name. It was there that John went to sell his wares. He was a carpenter and created the most beautiful figures out of wood. The trouble was, there was hardly anybody wealthy or sympathetic enough to by them. When somebody did, the money was enough to last about two weeks before the family relapsed into their previous state of poverty.

It was also here, at this junction, that Morgan could find a very familiar landmark. This was in the form of a very old, gnarled tree. It stood right on the roadside, its thick roots protruding forward onto the path like the vines of a creeper, seeking to choke all in its path. At some points the roots threaded through the ground like thread on a needle, disappearing underneath the dust and reappearing a couple of yards across the path.

Morgan smiled as she spotted the tree. The sight always filled her with joy and comfort, but there was also another feeling that she could never quite explain. It was as if she and the tree shared something, a deep secret and understanding that reached very far back, deep within the vaults of history. She knew that the impression was childish, but she could never quite shake it off.

Putting aside her thoughts, she ran to the tree as if it waswere a lostlong?-lost friend. Reaching it, she stroked the rough bark fondly. She whispered gently to the tree,no comma and pressed her ear against the trunk as if listening for something. The feel of the trunk was strong and firm, and it was warmed by the sun. As always, she could hear the steady pounding of blood in her ears, and, as always, she could hear …that ellipsis is better if replaced with an em-dash something else. It was very hard to detect, but it was still there-–a steady throbbing, or humming, that emanated from the bark and seemed to issue from the very heart of the tree.



Hello, Ignis. Since this is such a lengthy piece, and some of the nitpicks are already just repeated, I will just post the other nitpicks in quotation while telling you what I think of the story.

It was an Elnari Tree? Wasn't that the name of the girl in the prologue?

Then her senses returned, and she climbed down faster than ever she had before. She slid down the trunk and ran.


These should be italicized:
As she ran, she thought. From land of woe … they came from the Dark lands … to land of foe … they were enemies … with voices sweet … that humming … but hearts that reek … that much was obvious …


Unnecessary ellipsis again.
Fading into the distance …


.Hee smiled


she shouted with all her might: “MOTHER!”


I find this sentence ruining the excitement, don't know if it's just me.
Then something completely unexpected happened.


Is this really how Morgan's mother speak?
“I thought you were dead, I did.”


It was just awesome, Ignis. I'm speechless. And this is just the first chapter. The story is very interesting, and you've added to that your abilities to tell it in a very brilliant way. You've got the skills, my friend. And I'm now interested how this story will go. So far, your storytelling is amazing. So, better give the readers a good, good story.

Keep writing!


~~ JAsh ♥
“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen:
not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”


—C.S. LEWIS


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Wed Oct 20, 2010 7:43 am
IgnisandGlacialis says...



I'd just like to say, thanks for all the awesome reviews!!!
:P :P :P :P
The POTATO of DOOM

A thousand times it calls your name
A thousand times you hear it
And fools are those who heed its call
But fools are those who fear it.


The Interesting Thoughts of Edward Monkton
  





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Sat Oct 23, 2010 1:57 pm
iceprincess says...



Hey there, Fire! :D iceprincess here to review!

Elnari collapsed in a sobbing, bedraggled heap upon the forest floor.


The name of one of the races of elves in my fantasy novel is called Elnari. XD

Afterwards she could not have said how long she lay there on her bed of rotten leaves, sobbing and gasping, her heart rent with fear. It seemed that time did not exist in that forest, or if it did, it went so slowly that if one waited a hundred years within it one would not have grown a minute older by the time one left it.


Very good.

I love your prologue. The descriptions, the pacing... they were all very well done. Chapter One was basically flawless as well, and I could go on forever about how great it was, but since I don’t want to be a useless reviewer, I shall have to be picky. Extremely picky, in fact. :S

From land of woe
To land of foe
With voices sweet
And hearts that reek
By Evil’s hand
Far from His land
Our candles call
And strong men fall.


From world of hell
To gilded Bell
With lights that shine
And hearts of slime
Intent to kill
Held by His will
Condemned to life
Bound by the Knife.


Sorry, but the lack of punctuation wants to make me *head-desk*. Actually, it’s the first stanza that bothers me. How can Evil make their hearts reek? (Though I must commend you on how the rhymes aren’t forced and like your story, it flowed very well.)

I am now going to repeat what the other reviewers have said: your storytelling is brilliant. Seriously, I’ve read a lot of fantasy novels and some of them didn’t have an opening that was as good as this.

To summarise:
1) This is a great story.
2) You have very few grammatical mistakes.
3) Don’t disappoint me --- I expect an even better chapter two. But no pressure :P
4) I will read this novel to its very end.
5) This part deserves a like. *likes*

So basically, I failed at being a competent reviewer. Keep writing, and PM me if you have any questions. :D

~iceprincess =]
you'll never find another sweet little girl with sequined sea foam eyes
ocean lapping voice, smile coy as the brightest quiet span of sky
and you're all alone again tonight; not again, not again, not again.
and don't it feel alright, and don't it feel so nice? lovely.


  





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Sun Oct 24, 2010 3:01 pm
borntobeawriter says...



Hey there Ig,

I'm Tanya, here for a review. I saw your chapter part something in the forum and decided to go back and review from the start. So here I am!

Ok, wowee! I agree with Jai: this is very long. Thankfully, your an awesome writer which made it an easy read. Not always the case here.

I disagree with Tenyo about the prologue. It really pulled me in. I was literally sitting on the edge of my seat, barely breathing to not disturb the creatures in the woods. Honest. I really liked it. I'm not always a fan of prologues, but I think this one was a great beginning to the story.

As for Morgan. You get the impression that she's young because she's carried on her father's shoulders and she says at one point that she's running as fast as her little legs can. But her thoughts and speech are very mature, much older than her age. That is a problem. If she's a child, you have to make her speech a child's speech.

I love the interaction between her and her father. That's nicely done. I'm not quite sure about her relationship with her mother. You make her sound like a homicidal maniac at times, even the father gets pulled into that, by being afraid of her and such. I'm not sure why you did this, for comical relief? Or for further use? Either way, I'm trusting in this for now and I'll read on.

I noticed at some point that (I think when her father rises to go to her when she drops the soup) that you call him 'Joe' instead of 'John'. Typo or on purpose?

Well, that's it for this review. I suggest you make a novel page for this (it should give you the option when you post a new page. It should say 'is this part of a novel' or something because it would be easier for your readers to go back and find your chapters all in one block.

Great writing, you are definitely very talented. I'm going to read on right now!
Tanya :D
  





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Sun Oct 24, 2010 11:37 pm
Flower~Child says...



I appologize in advance for being so late, but I am here as requested. I had to wait awhile, your story kind of intemidated me. I had to mentally prepare myself you could say haha.

The first thing that I would suggest would be to shorten this. Put it in shorter chapters and keep it separate. That way you will get more review here.


Prologue

It is cold and dark.
Where am I?
The trees close in about her like faceless wraiths. They are usually faceless are they not?
What are they?
The wolves howl a mournful dirge.
Please let them stay away …
The soft breeze sighs and the wood moans and whispers.
They are only trees …
The moon’s shining silver face is concealed behind a veil of dark clouds.
Please let it come out … please …
Boughs form dark shapes and mists drift into shapeless figures.
It is just an illusion … they are not real …
They are coming closer … she cannot escape … Interesting point of view.
What do you want?
She cannot escape …
Leave me alone!
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE …

Elnari collapsed into a sobbing, bedraggled heap upon the forest floor. Her mind was in turmoil, her limbs trembling with fear and fatigue. She did not know where she was, whether it was night or day … she couldnt not Eliminate the word not. even remember her own name. Her breath came in short, tortured gasps, strangled with sobs. Her matted hair fell over her face like a curtain but she did not attempt to brush it away. She could not think, and she didnt noteliminate care about anything. She screwed up her eyes, waiting for the wolves to attack, for the trees to close in on her, for the wraiths to envelop her … She was certain that she was going to die, or be driven mad by the nameless fear that threatened to engulf her entire being … This is supposed to make me breath hard and wonder what is going to happen. You didnt really give that effect here. You gave a bunch of fancy words, but it doesn't seem scary to me. I can't feel the terror of the girl, and this is important in scenes like these.
Afterwards she could not have said how long she lay there on her bed of rotten leaves, sobbing and gasping, her heart rent with fear. It seemed that time did not exist in that forest, or if it did, it went so slowly that if one waited a hundred years within it, one would not have grown a minute older by the time one left it.
After what seemed like an eternity, the wolves stopped howling, and a dead silence fell over the woods. The silence was not that of a peaceful sleep or a moonlit night. It was the silence of death, I would just put terror and stone cold fear. and terror – stone cold fear – a silence as cold as a gravestone. Elnari felt it in the air; she sensed it in her mind. It weighted down her heart like lead and she feared to look up lest she be struck dead by terror.
Through Elnari’s mind raced a myriad of fevered thoughts, each one inspired by dread, darkness and sudden death. The silence seemed to intensify with every passing moment, and she jerked violently at every snap of a twig, every rustle of the branches surrounding her. Why is she just laying there? Wouldn't a normal person get up and run away? Although she never looked up, her mind formed horrific scenes of what might be happening. She imagined, in her delirium, the trees creeping closer to surround her, and every creak of a bough convinced her that they were coming closer, lifting their roots from the ground and creeping forward. The trees developed hideous faces: gnarled, twisted faces that displayed menace and hatred in every groove of bark, every crease and hollow. Elnari wanted to scream and to run, to escape from these monstrous fiends of death. How many innocent travellers had they consumed in their blind, purposeful murder? How many had fallen victim to their cold, dark eyes; the pure terror they inspired?
A sudden, very loud snap caused Elnari to cry out and leap to her feet, trembling from head to foot.
She found that she couldn't see even a foot in front of her. The pale glow that had shone dimly through the clouds was gone without a trace. The dead silence pressed upon her eardrums. Cold fear struck her. It was not like before. This was real, paralyzing terror. Elnari could not have described it if she had wanted to.
She stopped shivering. Her limbs fell limply to her sides. She felt cold; cold and clammy, and her knees felt suddenly weak, as though her bones had simply melted into oblivion. Her eyes widened and her face contorted into a dreadful expression, mouth agape in a silent scream. Her eyes saw nothing, but she felt it in the air, she heard it through the pounding in her eardrums. Something was moving. Fast. Although it made barely a rustle, her ears picked up the sound of leaves moving across the ground. As the sound grew louder, her limbs tensed and shook, and she uttered a silent moan. The darkness was deepening. As the thing approached, her surroundings seemed to close in around her, smothering her. She couldn't not breathe. She could not think. All she was aware of were the soft rustlings all around and the trembling of the ground. I'm not going to fix anymore of the couldn't errors. You get the idea.
And then it laughed. The sound was terrible; a low, moaning sound that throbbed in the air. It rose and fell, and reverberated around inside Elnari’s skull. The sound was not loud, but it resonated through the whole forest as a bellow, filled with all the menace and cruel mirth of an ancient being, so filled with memory and long held grudges that Elnari felt as small as a babe. She stood there, enchanted by fear, listening to the melodious rumble in the air until at last, whether by some devilry or sheer exhaustion, her mind went blank, she fell to the ground and she knew no more.

In a prologue you expect it to be really strong. You want it to be gripping, and you want me to want to read more. At this point there is nothing there gripping me here. You use big words, but there is no suspense, and you really need this here. I dont know what to tell you as far as fixing it, but you need to do something. Otherwise you will loose readers right here.


Chapter One: Morgan


“Morgan!”
“I am not coming down, if that’s what you want.”
“Morgan, show yourself this instant.”
“No.”
“You will do as you are told, young lady, and nothing besides.”
“Well, I’ve told myself that I’m going to stay here. For my whole life. For ever.”
“Well, I’m telling you to come down.”
“Well, I don’t care what you think you’re telling me to do, because I told myself that I wouldn’t tell anyone that they could tell me what to do, and therefore you telling me to come down just won’t work!”
“It had better.”
“Or what?”
“Or I get my axe right now,emit the comma. and chop this tree down.”
Morgan’s golden head appeared between two branches. It scrutinized the man underneath her with sceptical eyes.
“You wouldn’t,” said Morgan eventually.
“I would,” assured the man, relieved that he had finally touched bottom.
“You wouldn’t dare,” insisted Morgan. “Mother would kill you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said the man.
“Prove me wrong!”
“What if I kill her first?”
There was a loud rustling sound, and within a few moments Morgan appeared, sliding down the trunk. She ran to the man and folded her arms, a serious frown creasing her brow.
“Now I know you’re lying.”
“Yet you came down.”
“I came down because I was hungry.”
“Oh, so you’re not going to stay up there for the rest of your life?”
“I never said that.”
The odd twosome struck down the road at a leisurely pace. The man, who was Morgan’s father, swung her onto his shoulders.
“Well, I don’t care if you stay up there for forever and day, but you are not going back until you have done your chores.”
“I knew it!”
“You knew what?”
“I knew you only wanted me to come down to do my chores.”
“Of course I did. Why else would I disturb the peace of the Queen of the sacred Elnari Tree?”
Morgan gave a dramatic gasp and almost toppled off her father’s shoulders.
“Careful, you little monkey!” Her father grabbed her just in time and pulled her back up. “You’ll end up killing yourself one day.”
Morgan acted as if nothing had just happened.
“How did you know?”
“Well, the way you keep behaving – ’’
“No, no! How did you know about the Tree?”
“I cannot possibly miss it. You spend half your life up that old tree.”
“But its name, how did you know its name?”
“Why, you spend the other half of your life talking about it!”
“I do?” Morgan looked puzzled for a moment, and then relaxed into her old cheeky grin. “Well, as a man who spends half his life in his shed and the other half talking about it, you are hardly the one to talk!”
An age for the girl would be good here. She seems like a child, but you don't really say.

“Katrina, I found her!” Morgan and her father had arrived at their old tumbled-down shack, and, in the absence of a door, her father was knocking on the wall and shouting through the doorway.
A rather forceful voice rang through the hallway. “Found, aye,” it said, “but in ‘ow many pieces, is what I’d like to know!”
Morgan’s mother, Katrina, appeared in the hallway, a filthy rag in hand. She was attempting to clean a grimy bowl, but only managing to turn it a darker shade of brown than before. She surveyed the two keenly, her sharp eyes roving over her daughter’s shaggy appearance – the knotted hair, complete with twigs and leaves, the dirty face and the filthy clothing told all.
“You’ve bin climbin’ in that darned tree again,” she observed shortly. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from there? Ya filthy ragamuffin of a girl. When will ye learn? Ah’ve told ye agin an’ agin an’ a hundred times over. Aye, that I ‘ave. but do ye listen? No, sirree, ye don’t!” She bustled off down the hall, muttering to herself and shaking her head.
Morgan stared after her in a confused manner.
“Why doesn’t she like my tree, Father?”
Morgan’s father looked at her fondly. “I expect it is because she is jealous.”
He whispered the last word with all the secrecy of a furtive conspirator, plotting with his allies.
Morgan looked aghast. “No,” she gasped. “Not Mother.”
Her father gave her a grim look.
“If only you knew all the facts,” he said elusively.
He then jumped a mile in the air as a stern voice boomed right beside him.
“Not plottin’ mutiny, I ‘ope, John?” Katrina certainly looked very menacing in her voluminous apron. The impression was enhanced by the rather large wooden ladle she held in her hand. Of course, it might have helped that she had been stirring tomato soup with it a moment before, although Morgan did not know this and hoped that that her last victim had not suffered much.
“Plotting?” Her father looked aghast. “Mutiny? Perish the thought! I was merely having a moment of father-daughter time with Morgan.”
Morgan was hauled up in front of him, in a similar manner to a shield. The ladle certainly looked very menacing as it waved within two inches of her nose.
“Now, John, stop puttin’ ridiculous ideas inna this gal’s ‘ead. If you ain’t careful, she’ll end up just like you!” Katrina glared at Morgan as if daring her to defend her father. “An’ we don’t want that, do we now, girl?”
“No, Mother,” said Morgan cheerfully.
“Good. Now, come an’ help me with lunch.” Katrina set off down the hallway again, Morgan trailing behind, feeling like an ill-fated pig being led off to the slaughter house. She cast a pleading look over her shoulder at her father before disappearing into the kitchen.
Morgan found her mother bent double, reaching into one of the numerous store-cupboards that riddled the walls like rabbit burrows. She waited fearfully as Katrina cursed and muttered to herself, letting her eyes wander over to the large copper pot on the wooden bench, and the un-chopped vegetables that lay beside it like condemned criminals. Morgan wondered what poor soul had fallen victim to the cruel ladle of her mother, and silently swore that however many vegetables were added to the ghastly mixture, she was never going to eat it.
Morgan grew slightly alarmed when her mother extricated herself from the cupboard and emerged clenching a very long, very sharp knife in one fist. As Katrina approached her daughter purposefully, Morgan began to wonder if the victim had not yet been killed. Anyhow, it was likely to be over pretty soon anyway. She slowly backed away, but her mother beat her to the door.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, young lady.”
Morgan was shepherded towards the wooden bench. On her mother’s face was an expression of grim intent. Morgan winced as her mother raised the knife for the fatal blow and pointed it at her chest.
“Now,” she said triumphantly, “start chopping.”

* I like how you have shown the childlike imagination that the girl has. I also like how you describe the characters. I lack connection with them though. Also you didn't really progress in the storyline here much.

Despite any resolutions Morgan had made earlier, she ended up sitting at the dining table half an hour later, a bowl of tomato soup before her. Her insistence that she was not hungry had done absolutely nothing to manipulate her mother. The only sympathy she had received had been rather poor: her father had said, “Well, look on the bright side. It can hardly be any worse than the fried chicken eyes we’re having tomorrow!”
Morgan dolefully watched her mother slurp enormous spoonfuls of the rather lumpy mixture, apparently relishing it. Her father prodded his gingerly with a spoon, and looked rather queasy when it made a squelching noise and wobbled.
Morgan glared suspiciously down at her own. She could have sworn that it was slowly moving, bubbling to the surface.
“Mother,” she said tentatively, “the soup’s moving.” She poked it with a finger and a large slice of celery slid off the top.
“Don’t be an idiot, girl. It’s perfectly fine.”
Morgan was quite aware of that. It was the thought of eating it that made her stomach lurch.
Looking up, she saw that her mother had gone back to eating. Sudden inspiration struck, and glancing around furtively, she tipped the whole bowl down the front of her dress. Morgan experienced a horrible sensation as the mixture dribbled over her chest, down her legs and dripped slowly onto the floor. She smiled brightly as her father looked up, and made a pretense of licking the bowl.
But her father was not interested in that. The first tiny amount of soup dropped from his spoon, and his mouth fell open.
“My God,” he gasped. “What on Earth happened?”
Morgan glanced hastily down at her dress, which had been stained a bright red by the tomato juice. She shifted the bowl casually up to the stain, hiding it from view. Again, she smiled cheerily.
“Oh, that’s my new dress,” she invented wildly. “Mr. Sandy gave it to me for – for my birthday. Don’t you remember?”
She started edging her chair back across the floor. It seemed a hasty escape would soon be required. But her father rose and stared at her.
“No it isn’t,” he whispered. “That’s blood! Morgan, what happened?”
But Morgan was already at the door.
“Blood? Nonsense, Father. It’s just a bit of a … a stain …”
John started hurrying towards her.
“My God, what have you done? What … what are we going to do?”
“It’s alright, Father. Really.” Morgan started edging around the doorframe, soup dripping from her dress with every step.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, young lady! Come back here now.” It was her mother. She had risen from her place at the table and was advancing with long steps. Now was the time to cut and run. Morgan disappeared around the doorframe and sprinted. Out of the front door, through the overgrown hedge and down the dirt road, as fast as her short legs could carry her. Her mother randomly lost her accent here. That is a bad thing.
Morgan stopped for breath about a hundred meters down the road, and, emit this comma. thanking the Heavens for her parents’ stumpy legs, proceeded at a more leisurely pace.
She came eventually to the junction. This was where the country road joined up with the more well-trodden road that led to Charicadd Square, and the town that shared its name. It was there that John went to sell his wares. He was a carpenter and created the most beautiful figures out of wood. The trouble was, there was hardly anybody wealthy or sympathetic enough to by them. When somebody did, the money was enough to last about two weeks before the family relapsed into their previous state of poverty.
It was also here, at this junction, that Morgan could find a very familiar landmark. This was in the form of a very old, gnarled tree. It stood right on the roadside, its thick roots protruding forward onto the path like the vines of a creeper, seeking to choke all in its path. At some points the roots threaded through the ground like thread on a needle, disappearing underneath the dust and reappearing a couple of yards across the path.
Morgan smiled as she spotted the tree. The sight always filled her with joy and comfort, but there was also another feeling that she could never quite explain. It was as if she and the tree shared something, a deep secret and understanding that reached very far back, deep within the vaults of history. She knew that the impression was childish, but she could never quite shake it off.
Putting aside her thoughts, she ran to the tree as if it was a lost-lost friend. Reaching it, she stroked the rough bark fondly. She whispered gently to the tree, and pressed her ear against the trunk as if listening for something. The feel of the trunk was strong and firm, and it was warmed by the sun. As always, she could hear the steady pounding of blood in her ears, and, as always, she could hear … something else. It was very hard to detect, but it was still there – a steady throbbing, or humming, that emanated from the bark and seemed to issue from the very heart of the tree.
Morgan stood there listening for a while – the sound was so soothing, so strangely familiar – and then pulled her head away from the trunk and started to climb. It seemed, as always, that the trunk formed footholds wherever her feet landed, and that the branches reached down to pull her up. She almost floated up the tree, her arms hauling herself up as easily as if she were a feather.
Reaching what she fondly called ‘the living room’, which was a wide, flat platform closest to the lowest branches, Morgan sat down and turned her face towards the sun, feeling its soft rays upon her rough skin. She loved the feeling – it was like warm water seeping through her skin, into her very core, and soaking her in its soft presence.
After a while, as was her nature, Morgan grew bored of the stillness, and started to climb again. She climbed much higher this time, reaching a special fork between two thinner branches. This was where her father had found her earlier on. She had chosen to hide there because of its extreme seclusion and shelter – the leaves were so thick at this point; it was impossible for anyone on the path below to spy a little fair-haired girl nestled between two branches. More than that, though … it was as if, whenever Morgan was in this tree – or any tree, really – she camouflaged perfectly with the bark and green leaves. No matter what she might be wearing – although she had only one piece of clothing – she could not be seen when up a tree.
It was for these reasons, coupled with her silence, that when the strangers passed by underneath her – not on the road but in the bush – they neither saw her nor perceived that she was there.
Neither could Morgan distinguish them properly. They were like men, hooded and cloaked, yet they hunched over so that they seemed children, and their cloaks seemed more like their skin or shrouds of shadow than pieces of clothing. They did not say any distinguishable words, but Morgan’s sharp ears could catch a very soft, varying humming sound. Morgan felt strangely soothed by it, and soon she found herself swaying gently to the ‘music’, as her ears perceived it, and it was only the strong arm of her tree that prevented her from falling. Indeed, as she swayed, her ear pressed against the branch, and, stronger than ever, the much deeper, much more reassuring hum of the Elnari tree penetrated her eardrums. Morgan stopped swaying immediately, and suddenly the voices of the strangers came clear to her ears, and they were no longer soothing, but cold and purposeful. It seemed as though the Elnari tree was giving her the benefit of its ears, as it could understand all languages, vile and fair. And Morgan perceived their words:

From land of woe
To land of foe
With voices sweet
And hearts that reek
By Evil’s hand
Far from His land
Our candles call
And strong men fall.


From world of hell
To gilded Bell
With lights that shine
And hearts of slime
Intent to kill
Held by His will
Condemned to life
Bound by the Knife.


Morgan’s breath caught in her throat. Her blood pounded frantically in her ears, and she pulled her head viciously from the tree branch, unable to bear any more of the terrible verse. She knew now that the soothing humming was no more than a façade, and their evil words revealed their intent.
She wanted to scream, to tear away from the tree and run, run as fast as she could. She wanted to warn her family before these foul beings reached the town.
But before Morgan could make a move, the sound was gone without a trace. It had vanished along with any trace of the shadowy figures.
Morgan sat there, heart pounding like a frantic animal behind the bars of her ribcage, for what seemed like an eternity. Then her senses returned, and she climbed faster than ever she had before, slid down the trunk and ran.
As she ran, she thought. From land of woe … they came from the Dark lands … to land of foe … they were enemies … with voices sweet … that humming … but hearts that reek … that much was obvious …
By the time Morgan had figured out most of the vile poem, she had reached her home. Racing through the door, she collapsed onto the table and gasped, quite out of breath. Not a second had passed before she felt strong hands lift her, and she found herself staring into the anxious face of her father.
“Morgan, are you all right?” His voice seemed to be fading. “Morgan, what is wrong?” Fading into the distance …
Morgan was abruptly aroused by a splash of very cold, very refreshing water. She gasped, and her eyes flew open.
“Father,” she whispered, breathless. “There were … three of them… they – they were hunched like … like children … they want to … to kill somebody, Father …” It seemed very important that he know immediately.
But John was not interested.
“We figured what happened to your soup,” he smiled, and then frowned again. “But that is no excuse for what you did – leaving us sick with worry, thinking that you were going to go off and die somewhere …”
“No, Father. You do not understand. That’s not important anymore. They are going to kill someone, Father!”
John frowned. He obviously thought that she was trying to scare him.
“Now, stop your fibbing,” he scolded. “Nobody is trying to kill us.”
“But, Father …”
“No ‘buts’! You are to go off to your room right now and calm down, or I will make you. Understand? Off you go!”
“But … where is Mother?”
“She went out looking for you. See the trouble you have caused, you and your foolish little tricks?”
“Oh no,” gasped Morgan. Without a second thought, she was again out of the room and out the door.
“Morgan! Come back here immediately, young lady!” But her father’s cries fell on deaf ears. Morgan was already halfway down the garden path.
Soon she came to the road, and without stopping for breath, ran on. It was not long before she reached the Charicadd Town junction, and here she stopped. Her mother was nowhere to be seen. Surely she had not walked all the way to the town?
Glancing from side to side, Morgan decided that the best way to find her mother would be to climb the Elnari tree and try to see her. If she was anywhere near, Morgan would find her. The Tree was by far the tallest for miles around and one perching at the very top would be able to see for just as far.
So Morgan began climbing. This time she did not stop to listen to the tree, but carried on hauling herself up, branch by branch, until she was higher than she had ever been before. As her head breached the very top branches, a breathtaking scope of the landscape was laid out before her. It was as though she was a giant, observing a beautiful map crafted by the gods themselves for her very own viewing leisure. But Morgan was not interested in the view. As she scanned the dull twilit forest below her, she caught – or fancied she caught – a glimmer of light, far away, deep in the forest. She glared hard at the spot for at least two minutes, but the light did not appear again. Just as she was ready to look somewhere else, Morgan caught it again, a little further away this time. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted with all her might. “MOTHER!”
The light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
“MOTHER, MOTHER, MOTHER!” Morgan yelled and yelled, willing her mother to hear her.
Then something completely unexpected happened. There seemed to be a disturbance in the air around the spot the light had disappeared. The wind stirred up the treetops and birds flew into the air, crying madly. Then the wind seemed to change direction. It advanced rapidly towards Morgan, sending up a storm of birds and tearing down trees in its path. Morgan opened her mouth in a silent scream, her eyes opening wide as the storm approached. Suddenly something equally unexpected happened. The bark beneath her fingers began to vibrate and throb, the sensation growing with every passing moment. Soon it was audible; a long, low throbbing that filled her head with sound. It grew and grew until the entire forest vibrated with it, and Morgan’s grasp on the tree went limp. She closed her eyes as she fell.

*

“Morgan.”
Morgan heard the voice, but she did not perceive its meaning, nor did she care what it said.
“Morgan, listen to me.”
Morgan knew the voice. She was sure that she knew it. It sounded very familiar, but she could not put her finger on it.
“Morgan, wake up, gal!”
Morgan’s eyes flew open. Sure enough, her mother’s face was floating above her, anxious eyes peeing keenly into her own.
“Oh, thank the gods, Morgan,” she sighed. “I thought you was dead, I did.”
“Mother …”
“Shush. You just had a nasty fall; ya shouldn’t be wastin’ your breath.”
“But Mother, what … what happened …”
“No need ta be botherin’ yourself with that, young lady. Now, if you’ll just try ta stand up for me …”
Morgan tried, but her legs collapsed underneath her.
“That’s it,” said her mother. “Take it easy … I only need ye to lift yourself a bit … good … there!”
Her mother hauled her to her feet. She then hoisted her daughter onto her back and took a few stumbling feet forward.
“I feel a bit weak meself, ye see …” Katrina grunted and pushed forward, up the grassy bank by the roots of the Elnari tree.
Soon she and her small bundle reached the road, where they found John looking around, obviously very anxious. His jaw dropped as he saw the two of them.
“Why … Katrina … Morgan … what …?” He hurried forward, relieving his wife of her burden. He laid Morgan gently down on the ground. She had clearly fainted. He looked up at his wife with wide eyes. “What happened?”
“Fell,” was Katrina’s abrupt reply.
John’s eyes travelled up the trunk of the Elnari tree, to the very highest branches where Morgan had been.
“My God,” he said softly. “Come on, we need to get her home.”
As Katrina clearly lacked some of her former strength, her husband took it upon himself to carry his daughter home. By the time they were back, it was pitch black. Morgan had reawakened and was breathing normally.
After a thorough examination of her, to ensure that she had suffered no broken bones – “It’s a bloody miracle,” said her mother – Morgan was allowed to lie down in her room and rest, though not without many reassurances that she was ‘in for it’ tomorrow.
‘Rest’ was the last thing that Morgan wanted to do. She lay awake on her narrow bed in the smothering dark, thinking and worrying. Thinking about the most puzzling lines of the evil verses she had heard earlier – our candles call and strong men fall … condemned to life, bound by the knife – what was that all about? And worrying – worrying about where the little hunched figures were now, worrying about her mother … did they really lead her into the forest, as Morgan had assumed they had? And if so, was she any safer right now than she had been then? The thought chilled Morgan to the bone, and she decided to go and check on her mother, just in case.
Katrina lay peacefully on her bed, no differently from the way she had done every other day of her life. Morgan watched her thoughtfully for a while, and then turned to leave. As she did, however, her mother stirred and softly called her name.
“Morgan …”
Morgan crept back towards her.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Morgan, it’s the middle of the night.”
“I know, Mother.”
“So why are ye here?”
“I …” Morgan thought quickly. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“And what might that be?” Katrina sat up and peered at her daughter through the darkness.
“It’s just …” Morgan thought again. “Where did you go when you went searching for me?”
In the gloom Morgan could see a little frown appear on her mother’s face.
“Where was I … where was I …”
Morgan waited patiently.
“I don’t really know what happened, truth be told,” said Katrina eventually. “One moment I was walkin’ down the path, looking for you, and the next …”
“What happened next, Mother?” Prompted Morgan gently.
“Well, I dunno, do I?” Katrina suddenly sounded irritable. “But I do know that one moment I was in one place, and the next I was somewhere completely different.”
“Where was the other place, Mother?”
“The woods. I found myself in the woods. There was an awful windstorm, an’ I found myself in the middle of the forest. An’ I saw …”
“What did you see?” whispered Morgan. It was all making sense.
“I saw smoke,” answered Katrina. “Smoke all around, and nothin’ else. An’ then there was this awful sound …” she shuddered. “It was so deep, and so low, and so angry. It throbbed, if ye know what I mean. An’ it grew louder, an’ louder … even when I covered my ears it was ‘orrible. But it did seem to blow away the smoke, and it stopped the windstorm. An’ then everythin’ was quiet, an’ I could see agin.”
“But … was there anything else, before the sound?”
“I told ye, didn’ I?”
“Yes, but … could there possibly have been any … any lights?”
“Good Heavens, child, why would there be any lights? There was just smoke, as I told ye.”
“Oh.”
“So then, I found my tracks – which was odd, might I add, as I’d just appeared, as I thought, plus the windstorm should’ve blown ‘em away – and I followed ‘em. An’ they led me ta you. You was just lying there, all alone an’ out cold, at the foot of your beloved tree. I thought you was dead, as I say. It’s a bloody miracle in itself that you wasn’t injured. You should count yourself lucky.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“But it don’t mean ta say you’re gettin’ away with it just yet.”
“No, Mother.”
“Alright, then. Off ya go.” Katrina lay back down and watched her daughter tiptoe out of her room. Then she closed her eyes and thought of their conversation.
It was very odd, now she came to think about it. She tried to remember straying off the path and into the forest, but any memory of anything like that had gone beyond recall. Very odd … Katrina suddenly felt very tired. She had just begun to drift off when her eyes flew open and her heartbeat intensified a thousand-fold. She heard it. The humming. It was so soft, so melodious. She felt her mind drift into oblivion as the sound numbed her senses. They were calling … the voices were calling … she heard what they said as clearly as if they had been speaking in words …

Follow the candles.[/quote]


You story get's a lot better halfway through. You bring in some action, but I don't think the readers want to wait for you to progress in the story. It took you some time, and I have to say, it can get boring waiting so long. It might be different if you had split it into chapters or something of the sort, but as it is I would shorten it.

I really do like this, I fixed some errors, but I of course didnt fix everything.

I think you made the characters well, I think the connection could have been better though.

I really do like this. Sorry I couldn't help more than that.

-Flow-
My reality comes to a close as I once again realize that you don't love me, and even if I love you with my everything you will never care.

  





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Tue Oct 26, 2010 2:27 am
Matthews says...



I also agree it could do with being a shortened post...however I LOVED THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 <3 You are one seriously talented writer. You write better than many well-known authors. One quickie: What was she supposed to "start chopping" in this part?

Morgan was shepherded towards the wooden bench. On her mother’s face was an expression of grim intent. Morgan winced as her mother raised the knife for the fatal blow and pointed it at her chest.

“Now,” she said triumphantly, “start chopping.”

OK, never mind, I went back and reread, its veggies. Maybe make a subtle point that it IS veggies, or maybe not. Probably just me being dumb.

Oh, and I know in the mother's accent, you sometimes fail, she loses it, not good. You could you "et" instead of "it" if you wanted to. And "yer" instead of "your" Idk, I've seen it like that "a fore". lol :P

I agree that you should put an age on the girl...and don't leave the "bad guys" hanging too long. Maybe make a chapter of what they're planning, a little insight.

Keep it up! I totally wanna finish reading this!
Have I not commanded thee? Be strong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed, for the lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.
  





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Tue Oct 26, 2010 11:13 am
TheGreatIthy says...



So here I am, as per request. It is currently 7 am and I have a coffee beside me, so I'm in a pretty good mood. I guess that is a good thing for you. ;)

Let's start off with the Prologue, shall we?
I really enjoyed what you did at the beginning. It started it off really well and captured my interest. I also will like to mention that you are VERY good with descriptions. You paint a really easy to see picture with your words and that is something I always seem to have trouble with. Good job!

Elnari collapsed in a sobbing, bedraggled heap upon the forest floor. Her mind was in turmoil, her limbs trembling with fear and fatigue. She did not know where she was, whether it was night or day … she could not even remember her own name. Her breath came in short, tortured gasps, strangled with sobs. Her matted hair fell over her face like a curtain but she did not attempt to brush it away. She could not think, and she did not care about anything. She screwed up her eyes, waiting for the wolves to attack, for the trees to close in on her, for the wraiths to envelop her … She was certain that she was going to die, or be driven mad by the nameless fear that threatened to engulf her entire being …
Afterwards she could not have said how long she lay there on her bed of rotten leaves, sobbing and gasping, her heart rent with fear. It seemed that time did not exist in that forest, or if it did, it went so slowly that if one waited a hundred years within it one would not have grown a minute older by the time one left it.


I used this paragraph so you can see what I am talking about when I tell you the first thing I think should be changed. Don't be afraid to use contractions. There was too many 'did not's and 'could not's. It looks too awkward and actually distracted me from the beautiful descriptions. Other than that, I couldn't see too much wrong with the Prologue.

Now, Chapter 1!

The beginning looked awkward. You started off with dialogue which is fine, but I didn't know who was talking for too long. I thought that Morgan was talking to her mother, but then it turned into a man then into her father. It just confused me a little. Other than that, I really enjoyed it. Maybe I was just distracted by the beautiful descriptions, but I couldn't see very much wrong with this. It looks good! :D
Bees: They sting because they love!!

Will review for food!
  





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Wed Oct 27, 2010 4:13 pm
Sins says...



Heyaaa :)

I'm sorry I've gotten to this late, and it kind of looks like I'm a bit too late. Everything I would have said seems to have been said, and all nit-picks appear to be covered too. Don't worry though, I am going to try and give you some help, but I'm not sure if it will actually help you at all... :lol: Considering there aren't any nit-picks I can find worth mentioning, I guess I'll go straight into my overall opinion on the piece.

Although this chapter was a bit more of an informative one than an action packed one, it was still a good read. Besides, this had more action in it than I thought. One of the things about this that I very much liked was your actual writing style. In my opinion, someone's writing style is very important because it kind of expresses the writers personality in some ways. Your writing style is easy to read and your sentences flow into each other well. There weren't any points in this where I read this awkwardly or where the flow was disturbed. Your descriptions and actions were balanced out well which certainly helped with the overall flow and feeling of the piece.

My only little issue with this right now is similar to what others have said. I wasn't too sure about how old your MC was exactly, and unless I missed it, you didn't mention her age. From your MC's actions, I assumed that she was a pretty young child, but when it came to her voice, she seemed a lot older. This is something that a lot of people actually struggle with. It's hard to write in the POV of someone a different age to you, especially a different gender to you. What you have to always remember is that it's not only the actions that make your characters young, but what they say, and mostly what they think. What I'd suggest is that you maybe make your MC come across as a bit more naive...? This isn't a major issue, but it's the only thing I can really come up with that hasn't been said an awful lot yet... xD

I'm sorry this sin't the most helpful review in the world! I'll do better next time... ;)

Keep writing,

xoxo Skins
I didn't know what to put here so I put this.
  








I’ll paraphrase Thoreau here... Rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness, give me truth.
— Christopher Johnson McCandless