Young Writers Society

Chapter One: The Man Who Came Back


There were never enough hands, and there was never enough time. The soldiers came in waves and were split into groups - those who were quickly treatable and could be moved on to make room. The breaks and bleeds were sent in one direction, the head and core injuries in another.

Last were the fatal, who after making their journey all the way home would be given painkillers and asked their last requests. At first we had tried our best to give them, but with so many casualties we were forced to come to the cold conclusion that it simply wasn’t practical. We would take down the names of the men and their families and add them to the list of people to be notified. Then we would set a volunteer at their bed to listen to their final wishes, whispering false promises that those wishes would be fulfilled so that at least the dying would feel like they die as men, and not as numbers.

It was all we could do.

Mathius was one of those who was luckier than most to be alive. He was covered in blood that had poured from a head wound and the areas around his joints and ribs were darkly bruised. His eyes had been fused shut by the blood and dirt. Still, he was walking and talking, and that meant there was hope for him.

I came to kneel beside him. We had no beds and few chairs, mostly just blankets and poorly made stretchers.

As the cool, pollinated breeze blew past he drew in a deep breath with a rattle like the stirring of a dead mans bones. He tipped his head back towards the sky. Every time he had tried to open his eyes the flecks of grit got in he would scowl in pain and press the heals of his palms against his temples.

We were surrounded by the low grunts and painful sighs, but here there was no clash of swords or roar of beasts, and that’s all he cared about. This place smelt not of death, but of water and blood - fresh blood. From hearts that still beat. To me it sounded like pain, but to him it sounded alive. He said you never really know how sweet alive sounds until you’ve heard the sunken drum of death.

I took a bucket and cloth and put them down at his side with a small cup of the gooey, green liquid that was being mixed up by the gallon. ‘I’m here,’ I said, putting one hand on the back of his neck. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Mathius.’ He answered.

‘Mathius. Drink this. It‘ll ease the pain.’

‘I‘ll be brave,’ he said lightly.

‘This is probably going to hurt a lot.’

‘I’ve been through worse.’

His face was barely recognisable with the layer of battlefield mire, and his thick black hair was glued to his skull. By the condition it looked like he had been lying for a long time before someone found him.

I set to work, dampening and pulling away the hair to find the wound on his head.

He told me he was a farmer before he went to war. Farmers were supposed to carry spades, not swords. He made a joke about how he was so clumsy he probably could have done more damage hitting someone with a shovel than he did with a blade.

‘I took after my father, he was a farmer too, and my uncles, and my grandfather. After the war broke out though we didn’t have enough men to work the land and so sold it to the Royal Harvest Company instead.’

‘My father was a pain in the neck.’ I said. I’d heard the phrase used to refer to several casualties over the past few days and now found it rolling awkwardly off my own tongue. ‘He still is.’

He laughed, a raspy sound that scared me a little, then coughed and tried to hide the pain. I picked up the cup and pressed it into his hand but he pushed it away reluctantly

‘Drink it.’

‘You sound like a boy,’ he said, forcing a distraction. ‘Are you young?’

‘I’m not old.’ I took the cloth again and drained the water into a spill bucket before dipping it back into the clean one. Whatever had struck his head, it had cut straight through the skin. It looked like it might have even gone through the skull, but there were no bone fragments.

As I pulled a few strands of hair directly out of the wound he gasped. His jaw tensed and the muscles down his neck and back tightened.

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.

‘Don’t apologise. Without people like you I would be left for dead anyway. I owe much thanks to you.’

‘Yes. But you wouldn’t say that if you could see me, though.’

‘Why is that?’

Once again found myself looking up and became aware of the stray comments around me, the awkward stares and hesitant smiles. The grateful glances and the heavy air of blame.

‘You just wouldn’t.’



/End Part One

Hello there,

The last time I did a review was a long, long time ago and even then I didn't write much reviews, but here goes.

First things first. The title is what brought me here. It draws the attention of the reader even before he starts reading. Good job on that one!

I rolled right into the story and couldn't help but find myself interested in an instant. At first I was thinking this could be a WWII story, but then you mentioned swords. I like how you surprised me. The same goes for the protagonist. I am awfully curious about who or what that person is.

"he drew in a deep breath with a rattle like the stirring of a dead mans bones"
nice work on that one

‘You sound like a boy,’ he said, forcing a distraction. ‘Are you young?’

‘I’m not old.’

Really great dialouge even if you wrote only these two lines you would've had me.

To be really honest I haven't found a lot of room for improvement. Maybe one typo but that could've been intentional:

"He was covered in blood that had poured from a head wound and his rips and the areas around his joints and ribs were darkly bruised."

Anyhow, a job well done and I certainly want to read more of this!

- Metalmauzen -

An interesting story. Catches the attention. The ending was good. It really leaves you wondering what is wrong with him. Is he deformed or even human? Really good ideas. Love it

Tenyo. <3

So, it’s no secret that I’m native to the poetry forums, so reviewing fiction—particularly novels—is foreign to me. But I quite enjoyed this. While I was reading to find improvement places, I did find it drawing me in, so that’s something you’ve got going for you on your plate. I didn’t read the other reviewers, so if my entire review is a repeat, I’m sorry.

First off, I want to talk about time setting. The only thing you give us that serves as really solid time-period evidence is the use of swords. It’s not hard to slip in a detail here, an image there, and make a scene come alive. And that serves two purposes:

1. It draws in your reader much deeper than a lack of scenery, though it’s very easy to overkill imagery. I think your style is close to minimalist, so I don’t think you’d have a problem with that. But me, since I’m what you can call a ‘cinematic’ reader and writer—meaning I write and read what I can see in my head—scenery is rather key.

2. It’ll make the content you write come to life. And that’s something that every writer wants, I think. The little things, ultimately, are what matter, and tossing in a detail or two more on the scene to give us that livelihood would be well-welcomed.

Secondly, you need to pay attention to your grammar and sentence construction. As far as sentence construction goes, your flow is hindered in several places by your lack of fluidity. A few places to start with:

The soldiers came…moved on to make room. The breaks and bleeds…in another.”

As the cool, pollinated breeze blew past he drew in a deep breath with a rattle like the stirring of a dead mans bones.

Every time he had tried to open his eyes the flecks of grit got in he would scowl in pain [i]and press the [i]heals of his palms against his temples.

but here there was no clash of swords or roar of beasts

There you go. Just a quick sweep through will fix these places up in no time.

As far as content goes, I’m really struggling to critique it. I mean, I don’t think this is a mystery novel, so I’m not sure if you want to set up foreshadowing in the first chapter? It’s bugging me that I don’t know what’s the deal with this narrator—either it’s a girl, some other race, maybe a different species if it’s a fantasy novel—but I don’t know, and I suppose that’s your grand cliffhanger for the first chapter. But if you’re setting up for an action/adventure fantasy, then I suppose putting tension on his quirks works quite well. So good job with that, I suppose.

It feels to me like you’re setting up the ‘unlikely hero’ deal, so I won’t touch it. As long as you can work it, work it. Great job, Tenny, and sorry I can’t be of more help.

-Lumi

Hey Ten, Stella here! Sorry I've taken so long to get here!

I. NITPICKS

At first we had tried our best to give them, but with so many casualties we were forced to come to the cold conclusion that it simply wasn’t practical.

The "practical" bit seems a little weird. "Possible" would be better because, I don't know... you wouldn't promise to do that sort of thing thinking it was practical anyway.

As the cool, pollinated breeze blew past he drew in a deep breath

Can you use pollinated in this sense? Isn't it just when a flower has been pollinated?

with a rattle like the stirring of a dead mans bones.

man's.

‘Mathius.’ He answered.

dialogue punctuation, dear.

II. OVERALL

I don't have a whole lot to complain about! This did intrigue me towards the end. I have a couple of small issues. Firstly, I get you're keeping mysterious about the protagonist- fine. But at least be a little less vague about his voice. I feel he was barely defined until halfway through. He's our narrator, so make sure he's always narrating and you're not taking over.

Secondly, I want to know more of the location. I totally came to this not knowing what genre it was- I now know it's Fantasy, but at first I assumed it was World War One- where triage first came into play. So it's quite a modern concept but they're fighting with swords. Which is fine, I don't mind mixing eras like this. But the problem is you're setting us down in this world, so make sure we know something about it.

Other than that, lovely, and I'll review Part 2 tomorrow.

Hope I helped, drop me a note if you need anything!

-Stella x

Hi, Tenny! <3

I never really, like, stop by to read your work. Which is sad, considering how often you're word-warring (and how I've warred you in a number of those), but hi! I'm here, and I totes read this. And I loved it, so there. :]

I think it was the pace that definitely kept this interesting. It wasn't too fast, wasn't too slow, and very dependent on dialogue or character interaction. Which, by the way, I love. My writing depends on that lykwoah. So I'm totes not going to pick at that at all! But I will emphasize the time/setting bit the others kept bringing up. I won't go into it since it's already been done, but I did notice it.

So I did notice that I didn't quite... know your main character. He was just kinda there, doing his thing. Especially considering this is first person, I'd love to see a little more character in the narration. I read it as a bland third person narrative, but when I caught that it was first, I wasn't as impressed as I could've been. The MC felt empty and cardboard. Mathius had a little more character, but he could also be improved on a bit.

Another something I want to point out is the tone. The characters come into play with this, and I understand it's wartime. It's so not meant to be anything but dreadful. What we have here seems like a partial attempt in drawing the reader into the scene. The beginning/first half basically went fairly well! When the dialogue started, it felt like the narrator just gave up trying to set the stage and shoved some character interaction down our throats. XD You can almost tell where that line is between stage-setting and characterization. So... maybe more blending? Smooth out the narration, the story-telling, and make it feel more natural. You're in the MC's head, so how would he tell this story?

There was a minor suggestion I had that you could take with a grain of salt.

Once again found myself looking up and became aware of the stray comments around me, the awkward stares and hesitant smiles. The grateful glances and the heavy air of blame.

Apparently, people were staring and things. I didn't get this impression at all. xD I'd like to see a hint or two to lead up to this. I had moans and groans, smell of water and blood -- nothing on awkward silence or piercing stares. How patients reacted to the MC. This can help with the previous points I made.

Anyhow, I think it's going somewhere though! You've certainly got an intriguing idea, and I'm excited to read more. I'll be reading the next part shortly, so maybe you'll show me up on some of what I said. 8D

Keep writing!

Jabber, the One and Only!

Tenny Tenny Tenny.

I think I already told you this on chat, but between the title, the synopsis, and this first chapter, you've made a fan out of me. This is dangerous, actually, because I do have high expectations and won't let you settle for your best any more ever. Now that we have that clarified, though, I can get on with rambling at you. You have lots of other great opinions for reviews, though, and that makes this somewhat less fun. But only somewhat less.

First, your opening almost lost me and I now have mixed feelings toward it. On one hand, I like how it shows that this war isn't going well for this side of the army. Lots of hurt people, not enough supplies, not enough time or hands to tend to everyone. I like this a lot, so much actually. But, you've frontloaded the information into the first paragraphs when it could be peppered throughout instead--like the comment about not having beds, just blankets and poor excuses for stretchers. So I'd recommend taking the same sentiments from the first paragraph, the same details, and blending them into the action proper. And I'd in turn suggest starting with the action proper.

I hate giving suggestions like this, but I really would recommend beginning here:

Mathius was one of those who was luckier than most to be alive.

Why? Well, I like Mathius already with this line, and I come to like him more as the dialogue starts and the description starts, etc. Plus, 'one of those' lets the reader know that there was story happening before this and we're jumping into the thick of things. 'Luckier than most to be alive' creates intrigue and curiosity, the two big things for first chapters, because the phrasing here is so brilliantly particular. We know from this line--without you telling us, oh wonders of Oz--that there's bad stuff going on and people are dying. We know that some people have also survived like Mathius, but that this survival isn't just a clear-cut issue of "Weeeeee, I'm alive!" In short, the line plops the reader neatly and smoothly in and gets them curious within fourteen words.

And that's my case for making this the new opening line. Note that this is the sort of line you can't possibly think out beforehand. It just so happens that it's perfect. Maybe that's why I'm okay with being so specific.

On a similar note, I agree with the Jabba about the stray comments and awkward glances. This is bordering on the realm of cheating--planting things to make your reader curious about what's going on, rather than achieving this artificially. I want to feel that this narrator is out of place somehow, either by the way he talks or by the way others respond to him in the room. Don't want an apparently hyperaware narrator telling me for cheap effect when I could get the real deal. Besides, the dialogue has me intrigued enough. Does that make sense? I don't mean having him walking through and noting the weird glances.

I want the sixth sense effect.

Now I'm really not making sense.

Anyway, I guess I'm harking back to my days of syntax obsession, but I want to draw your attention to the rest of what I hope will be your new first paragraph:

He was covered in blood that had poured from a head wound and the areas around his joints and ribs were darkly bruised. His eyes had been fused shut by the blood and dirt. Still, he was walking and talking, and that meant there was hope for him.

In bold, you have the passive constructions. You might have an interest in having it passive, in which case, ignore me bitte schoen, but in case you're not attached to its use, I'd suggest switching to active voice. I don't know if you want to do it with the second one, since 'bruised' can be an adjective and the active version would be sort of silly, but you could use the noun form ('bruises covered/spread/etc.')

Blood's in red because you use it twice in a row. Which is not horrible, but apparently I'm on Polish!Mode and wanted to point it out so that you know.

In italics is the progressive construction, which I marked on reflex because a birdie told me a long time ago to watch the progressives. They have a way of slowing down the prose, and in this case, the reader might not know whether this means he's currently walking and talking or whether he's capable of doing so in general. Or at least, that's what my grammar brain is telling me. So, just something to think about. On this one I don't have an opinion either way.

Lastly, 'there was' because it's an existential. Which perhaps you used intentionally because the narrator doesn't have hope for him, or because the nurses or the system don't have hope for him, but some amorphous body does, but regardless, 'there' is an empty subject and subject positions in sentences are positions of power (same applies in regards to passive) and 'was' is a weak verb because it's so blah. Like unseasoned oatmeal.

And... well, I don't know what it was that I wanted to mention otherwise. I think I got it all and then some. Please let me know if you have any questions, etc. Again, your story here has a new stalker. Be afraid.

Rach