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Young Writers Society


16+

Devil's Trap (chapter 3)

by Rainheart


Warning: This work has been rated 16+.

Sophia is right about one thing. We do need her for our rebellion. But if she proves to be useless, then I am certain her fate will not be pretty.

Dylan has since relieved me from watching the naive little girl. Thankfully. I was getting slightly irritated at her pathetic naivity. Not to mention that fact that the mold growing on the walls of that building was beginning to mess with my allergies.
I'm walking down the dark streets of Jasper, sprinkles of rain dropping on me. I don't care, though. It feels good. Refreshing. If I don't look at the world around me, that is.
Graffiti paints every stone and gate I pass. Trash and waste litters the same gutters the kids play in every day. Boarded up windows. Shattered glass. Rusty cars. Flikering street lamps. I woulnd't want my children to grow up here.
And if this war ends the way we think-- hope-- it will, they won't have to.
If you live long enough to have kids...
There's no way this war is going to end without bloodshed. I may be good with a knife and AR-15, but so is Darrien Winchester's men. Though I don't sell myself short, I don't exactly expect to make it out of the war alive.
Lovely though, I know. But reality has a way of taking hold of ones mind when death is almost a certain.
An exhausted sigh escpaes my lips. Home is close. I'm passing the familiar landmarks. Three buildings with the only glass windows to be found in the outer cities. That beautiful graffiti art on the one side of the pub.
Sometimes, if you look really hard, you can find beauty in this black world.
I live in a small shack at the end of Dagler Lane. There are no windows. No lights, save for a small lantern I keep on the rickety table next the crooked door. A concrete lawn with dead weeds and one tire that lost its car a long time ago.
Entering the shack, I shake the drops of rain from my damp hair and light the lantern.
The flame grows and I can see well enough to get around. There's nothing on the wooden walls. A small fireplace is in the corner, beside it is a cot with several wool blankets covering its hard bottom. Other than that, I have only the table and two chairs. There's not much room for anything else.
Taking off my wet cargo jacket and t-shirt, I lay them over the chairs and go to get the fire started. Cold air hits my bare torso. Goosebumps form. I shiver. With renewed strength, I get the fire going.
Flames jump, embers crackle. I warm my hands and body for a moment before going to get dry clothes. My holey jeans are fine, so I don't bother changing them. I grab a new t-shirt and pull it over my head.
Comfortable at last, I sit down at the table. There are a few things at arms reach. Some paper, a pen, and a package of crackers. I go for the food. They're stale and tasteless. Not my favorite food, to say the least. But I haven't eaten much in the last few days, so I'll eat anything right about now.
Funny the things you're interested in the day before war. Food. Sleep. If I had family, I'd probably be spending a lot of awkward time with them. They'd be wondering what drug I'm on within thirty minutes. But war makes fools of us all. The best kind of fool.
I'd like to think that my parents are proud of me. Even though they probably aren't. I haven't seen them in fourteen years. And they only live twenty mintues away. What does that say about the type of person I am?
"To hell with it..." I mumble. I'm better off without them, anyway.
Exhaustion rushes through me. I can barely keep my eyes open. In the last fee days, I've gotten a total of three hours of sleep. Just eating seems to be an impossible task. I let the crackers fall back onto the table and I go over to my cot. Food can wait, I decide. I need to sleep.
I take off my boots and lay down. Normally I'll lay awake for a few minutes, thinking over the day's events. Sophia. The war. My parents. Friends. But not this time. The moment my head hits the pillow, I'm out. And I don't wake up. Not for another twelve hours.
And what wakes me is the same sound that woke me up fifteen years ago.
An explosion.

link to ch1:http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/work.php?id=100608

link to ch2:http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/work.php?id=100640


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15 Reviews


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Thu Apr 18, 2013 3:06 am
Azirah wrote a review...



Another filler chapter.

Every single scene in your novel must do one of two things: it must either a. advance the plot, or b. develop your characters. Ideally, it does both. I wager this is still your first draft, and you're not yet sure how this is going to end, and what events are going to contribute to it. In that case, why are you posting it? First drafts are meant to be edited before being posted. Think of them as your dirty laundry. Would you hang them outside for the world to see? No.

I'm going to critique this as if you've already edited it anyway.

Your chapters seem to wander and are aimless, to be blunt. I don't see how they're contributing to an end. The best kind of novels have an end that, in hindsight, were inevitable given the events leading up to them. You don't want the ending to be too obvious, but everything in the book that happens has to, in one way or another, contribute to the one that's coming for the characters. Right now it seems as if you're still finding your way through your novel.

You mention allergies in this chapter, but made no reference to them in the past one. It really feels as if you're making this all up as you go along. That is not a feeling you want your readers to have. It's as if almost everything is an afterthought, something to use to up your wordcount. Don't. Write a good story, not a string of 60,000 words that seems to be a story.

There are also some lines there that seem cool but out of place. It's as if you stuffed them there because you thought they were cool and wanted to write them and so you put them there anyway. If it doesn't fit with your character's voice, don't force it in. A chapter back, and Jack was this nice, one-dimensional kind of dude who doesn't come up with interesting lines. He's not the quotable type, and now he suddenly spouts something about war making fools of people? Odd, to say the least. Keep your voice consistent. This is first person - unless something life-changing happens to Jack and it changes his perception of the world, there's no reason to shift voices so suddenly.

I think this scene might work if it was emotional and placed properly, but right now it feels out of place, jumbled, and unplanned. It's like the storm in the middle of summer - out of nowhere, unexpected, and unwanted. You placed it there because you needed something to write, not because your story needed this piece to be written.

Consider taking it out altogether, and try to smooth out the timeline of your novel. It's feeling more like a sequence of events than an actual story right now.

"The king died and then the queen died." -> This is what your novel feels like.

"The king died and then the queen died of grief." -> This is what a novel should feel like.

One action should lead to the next. Think of it like dominoes. Because X happened, Y and Z happens. Because Y happens, A follows. But because Z also happens while A is happening, B doesn't follow - instead, C happens.


Azirah

ETA: The last part also skirts around the constraints of a first person POV. I find it odd, but maybe others find it all right. I don't know.




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Fri Apr 05, 2013 12:52 am
Shady wrote a review...



Hey Ainhe!

Shady here to review. I'm excited to read this next chapter! :)

But if she proves to be useless, then I am certain her fate will not be pretty.
~ Just the last chapter, Jack was going to fetch her a blanket-- but now he's decided to kill her badly? Is it because she hit him? Or something else?

naive little girl. Thankfully. I was getting slightly irritated at her pathetic naivety.
~I think you use 'naive'/ 'naivety' too close to one another here-- also, my spell check says it's spelled with an 'e', not an 'i'.

Lovely thought, I know. But reality has a way of taking hold of one's mind
~ Minor typos, but one that spell check won't point out, so I am. :P

one tire that lost its car a long time ago.
~ <3

~~

I liked this chapter. I'd definitely keep it. Jack fascinates me, and this chapter explains him just enough to renew interest, while keeping him mysterious and attractive. Nicely done. You ended it just perfectly.

I now can't wait to read the fourth chapter. So hurry up. ;)

Keep writing!

~Shady 8)




Rainheart says...


Sophia's fate isn't in Jack's hands alone. There are several other people who are involved in the rebellion. I guess I should mention everyone else's feelings towards Sophia, not just Jack's...

And although Jack gives her a blanket, that does not mean he likes her. He feels pity. Nothing else. :)



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Fri Apr 05, 2013 12:47 am
Snowmane says...



Ooo since when did you write this chapter? I don't remember ever reading it! Naturally it's awesome. It feels very smooth and natural. I like Jack's outlook on the war. He's not an optimist, that's for sure. However, it's a different personality than all the other books out there where the main character is all, "I'm going to win and I'm going to live blah blah blah." Ya know? :)

Keep writing love! :)




Rainheart says...


I wrote it last night and this afternoon. Glad you like :)




Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.
— Mark Twain