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Tomorrow - Chapter Eight

by 90skids


My first night in the dorm isn’t good. I toss and turn all night and, when I finally fall asleep, I’m woken up by Poppy’s loud snores. I’m paranoid about sleeping. When I close my eyes, I feel as though someone is going to creep up behind me and try to slit my throat. I lie there with my eyes wide open, staring out of the window. It’s pitch black outside and the only thing visible in the fathomless darkness is the bright white light of the moon. I wonder whether, in another galaxy, people are awake and wondering what’s going on in the other galaxy. Maybe it’s the same as it is here. Maybe they speak another language. Maybe they’re a different species. There are so many maybes and what ifs in life that sometimes, I wonder what is certain in life. It’s certain that, eventually I will die. But, if I don’t exist in the first place, how can I die? I lie awake thinking until my brain feels like its frying. Then, I get up and go to the common room.

The lights are dim in the common room and the fires still glowing slightly. I nestle myself into one of the squashy armchairs by the fire and close my eyes. It’s warm and comfortable and it takes me no time at all to fall into a deep slumber.

In my dream, I’m staring up at the roof of the cottage. I’m surrounded by shouting people but, their words mingle into a useless whirlpool of noise. I’m transfixed by what’s happening on the roof. There’s a man standing on the edge of the turrets. He’s dressed from head to toe in white. He rises up onto the balls of his feet. Everyone around me screams. I cannot scream. I just stand there mutely, struck dumb by what I know he’s about to do. The man brings his arms above his head. I squint at his expression; he looks calm and peaceful. I envy him. The man springs off the roof and plummets down to the earth. He looks so serene and at peace that, I want to climb up onto the roof and do what he did. When he hits the ground with an awful thud that echoed across the grounds, the crowd screams. Several people behind me are nigh on hysterical. I, however, begin to push through the crowd to where the body lies. It’s broken and crumpled but, in an odd way, it looks beautiful. His expression is calm and peaceful. He looks as though, if it weren’t for his broken limbs, he could be asleep in the green grass. Then, I realise who he is and I scream. And that is when I wake up.

Light is flooding in from the windows. Someone must’ve drawn the curtains. The fire is out. Slowly, I rise from the armchair and walk into the dorm. The dorm is in a flurry of activity. No one asks me where I’ve been so I walk over to my bed and locate the fresh clothes. They’re the same as yesterday only clean. I pull them on and look around for Eddie. He’s fully dressed so, I walk over to him.

“Where do we go now?” I ask.

“Breakfast.” He says, his face lighting up. Boys and food.

“Where’s that?”

“Come with me.” He says, “I’ll show you.”

We walk over to the door and Poppy pops up, closely followed by Scarlett, who narrows her eyes at me, and Matt. We walk to breakfast as a group. I suppose that, whether I want to be or not, I’m part of a group now.

The tables in the hall are heavily laden with various different types of food. The deliciously enticing smell of bacon wafts up my nostrils, igniting my hunger almost immediately. We locate five seats and sit down. Eddie and Matt begin by piling their plates high with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, baked beans and toast. Poppy begins on the fruit salad and Scarlett stares into the bottom of a cup of coffee. I gaze around, looking for something to eat. I settle with a cup of coffee, two slices of toast and a bowl of cereal. Best breakfast I’ve had in a long time. I eat quickly, ignoring Scarlett’s somewhat horrified stares as I tuck into my meal. Eddie and Matt meanwhile finish their mountains of food within minutes and quickly begin to load up their plates for another round.

Once all of the food on the plates in front of us is demolished, we leave the hall.

“Do you guys have shooting practice as well this morning?” I say as we walk out of the entrance hall.

“Yeah.” Matt says absently, watching Scarlett who happens to be walking next to him.

I walk down to the shooting range in silence, craning my ears to hear Scarlett’s whispered conversation with Matt.

“I’ll see you at midnight.” Scarlett whispers urgently.

“Where?” Matt whispers back, glancing at Poppy to check she’s not listening in.

“The tower on the gallery above the dining hall.”

I see Matt nod but then they stop whispering because we’ve reached the shooting range. Several people are already there. Charles is stood by the table. No one tries to talk to him but, I see several girls shoot him somewhat longing looks. I ignore Charles’ nod as I walk in with my well, I think I could call them friends. Scarlett, however, as sharp as ever, spots Charles looking at me.

“Look over there,” She hisses in my ear, “A certain someone is looking at you.”

I twist around to glare at her. “I couldn’t care less.” I say.

“Hey, Elizabeth, thanks for last night.” It’s Pete. His untidy black hair is sticking up and there are bags around his eyes.

“It’s ok.” I say, “Anything for a friend.”

“She’s amazing.” He says, drawing his hand back through his mop of hair. I see the ink-stained fingertips of his long, pale hands.

“Are you a writer?” I ask when I see them.

He nods sheepishly. “Yeah, just some small stuff.”

“It’s never small stuff.”

He grins, “I’m writing a book.”

“Thought so, what’s it about?”

“Stuff.” He murmurs evasively.

“Speaking of the devil.” I say as Poppy peers over Pete’s shoulder.

“I see you’ve met Pete.” She says, putting a claiming hand on his bony shoulder.

I nod and smile slightly before withdrawing, leaving Poppy with Pete. I look around. Scarlett’s deep in conversation with Matt. Eddie’s standing on his own. I walk over to him. He smiles at me. I attempt to smile back.

“Hey.” He says, “I think it’s really cool what you did for Poppy.”

“Well, she deserves to be happy.”

“Did Scarlett tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“About her and Matt.”

“Yes,” I say wryly, “It seems to be the world’s worst kept secret.”

He laughs. “Yes,” He says, “Subtlety is not one of Scarlett’s strengths.”

“I noticed.” I say, “What are her strengths?”

“Being scary.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh, “She seems to excel at that.” I say.

“But she’s not nearly as scary as you.” He says, stepping closer to me. Someone laughs and I look over my shoulder. Charles is standing within hearing distance, staring right at me, grinning. I swear.

“Okay, kids, listen up.” Charles calls. Everyone stops talking immediately and turns to look at him. “Today, we’re going to be practising shooting…”

“Oh well done, genius. We’re at the shooting range to swim instead.” I hear Scarlett mutter. Charles hears her and glares at her.

“So, I want you to partner up.”

Eddie looks at me and I nod.

“Ok, go and stand with your partners so I can see who’s left over.”

Charles scans the crowd of pairs.

“Eddie, you go with Chris.” He says, indicating to a tall, thin red haired boy standing alone at the edge of the group.

“But what about me?” I say indignantly.

“You’re going he says, with me.” He says firmly. I settle for glaring at him with my arms folded. Scarlett catches my eye and grins, rolling her eyes at the same time.

“Ok, now we’ve managed to get that sorted,” He says, glancing at Eddie who is glaring at him too, “It’s time to start. Line up in pairs with a gun in front of the range.”

There’s a sudden flurry of movement as everyone rushes to get the best gun. I stand back and wait for Charles to come to me. Once he reaches me, I walk over to the table and pick up a gun, testing the weight of it in my hands. I walk over to the shooting range and stand in the only space available; at the end next to Isla. She shoots me an appraising look before staring down the range. I sense Charles coming up and standing behind me but I too stare down the range.

“Ok,” Charles calls, “I want the first person to shoot once before handing the pistol to their partner. We’ll do that until the pistols are empty. You may begin.”

The sound of twelve pistols going off fills the air. I glance at the target before handing the smoking pistol to Charles.Bull’s eye.

“Good job, newbie.” Charles says as he takes the pistol. He raises it and shoots before handing the pistol back to me. We both shoot, hitting the centre of the target each time until the gun runs out of bullets. Eventually, everyone’s left standing in front of the range with empty guns.

“Ok,” calls Charles, “That wasn’t too bad. Go and collect your targets and we’ll see who got the best score.”

We all scurry up to the targets and tear them off the wooden boards which are indented with various bullets and covered in holes. I run back to where Charles is standing. It’s obvious what we got. We hit the target every time.

“Right, if you could all call out your scores, please.” Charles says.

“90.” Says Eddie, glaring at Chris who shrugs apologetically.

“120.” Says Scarlett.

“50.” Says Poppy, giggling slightly.

“130.” Says a blond boy whose name I don’t know.

“55.” Says Jack. He too glares at his partner who giggles loudly.

“97.” Shouts a black haired girl.

“54.” Calls a girl with curly auburn hair.

“115.” Shouts a boy with almost white hair and cold blue eyes.

“121.” Says a boy with dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

“111.” Calls a tall girl with cropped black hair.”

“146.” Says Isla. There’s an intake of breath at this astronomical score. Charles smiles slightly.

“And you, Elizabeth?” He says, still smiling.

I draw myself up proudly. “150.” I say, my voice ringing clearly across the range. Isla scowls and Eddie grins at me appreciatively.

“Ok, now that we’ve established the winners,” Charles says, indicating to himself and me. Isla scowls and drops the pistol on the floor with a sickening thud. Charles ignores her petulant look and ploughs on, “It’s time to start the next exercise. Now, we all know that, by now, most of you should be able to shoot with a pistol by now,” He glances over at Poppy, who giggles and clutches Pete’s chest. “It’s time to shoot with something else.” He walks over to the table and picks up a bow and arrow.

“But what use is a couple of sticks?” Isla calls.

“Well, Isla,” Charles says, “Someday, you may not have a pistol and, one of these,” He shakes the bow, “May be the difference between life and death.” He looks around at the crowd, looking for any other challenges to his authority. “Ok, so, I want each pair to put another target up and collect a bow and a quiver of arrows.”

We all obediently collect bows and arrows before hanging up new targets. I sling the quiver over my back and wait in front of the range expectantly.

“Now, I want you all to shoot. Just see how it goes.”

I load my bow before raising it and pointing the tip of the arrow at the target. I let go of the string and watch as the arrow flies through the air before lodging itself in the wood of the target board.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” Charles murmurs in my ear, “But, try to keep your elbow raised next time.”

I raise the bow again, this time raising my elbow. I let go of the string. It hits the ring outside bull’s-eye. I reload and shoot again, this time hitting the centre of the target. I shoot arrows at the board until my quiver’s empty. I turn around. Charles is standing there with his hands on his hips.

“Do I not get a go?” he says indignantly.

“Sorry, got carried away.” I say, grinning at him.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter, I can already shoot perfectly anyway.”

“How modest.”

“If you don’t blow your own trumpet, no one else will do it for you.”

I roll my eyes and grin.

“Come on, “He says, “The sessions over. Assessment time.”

“You’re taking me?”

“Yes,” He says, “Do you have a problem with that?”

“I just wanted to walk on my own, that’s all.”

“Quite the little loner, aren’t you?”

“Well, I don’t argue back.”

“Doesn’t it?” He says, “I must be the only person who argues with themselves.”

“One of a kind.”

He smiles and looks down at his feet. We continue walking until we reach the stables. It’s a large, proud grey stone building. It stands atop a large hill, its high entrance archway gazing imperiously at the latest visitor. We walk through the archway into a courtyard. Horses of every different colour poke their heads inquiringly over the door, scattering their hay onto the grey cobbles. Several people wearing blue polo shirts and cream jodhpurs run around the yard, sweeping up hay. A man of about thirty walks over to us and shakes my hand.

“Mark.” He says, smiling warmly.

“Elizabeth.” I say, smiling back.

Charles clears his throat. “Elizabeth is here for her riding assessment.” He says, as if Mark didn’t already know that.

“Well, we’ll put you on something relatively sane to start off with then.”

“I don’t-“

“Yes, put her on something steady.” Charles says firmly.

“But I-“

“Something safe.”

Mark smiles slightly, illuminating his tanned face. “Ok, follow me then.”

I follow him over to one of the door where a bay head pokes out. I glance into the stable. A relatively small pony stands there. He’s pretty enough with a regal head carriage but, I hope that, after my assessment, they put me on something a little bigger.

“This,” Mark says, indicating to the pony, “Is Dulce.”

I nod and glance at the pony. I decide that I’ll have to make sure that I get a slightly better mount next time.

“Ok, his tacks in the corner. I’ll leave you to get ready.”

Taking a deep breath, I slide the metal bolt across the door and push it open. At once, the sweet, horsy smell of hay and straw hits my nostrils, taking me back to a different time and place entirely. Dulce has moved away from the door and is now stood munching on a full hay net, his bay coat gleaming like a mahogany table. A rope which, is hung across one of the walls of his stable, is laden down with various rugs. In the corner, there’s a door which, upon opening it, I find out is a small cupboard containing a pristine black leather saddle and bridle. I select a couple of brushes from a bucket in the cupboard and begin to brush him although, I suspect that, brushing him is partially redundant owing to the fact that he’s gleaming already. Dulce swigs his head around and searches my person, looking for a pocket which might have treats. Once he realises that I don’t have anything for him, he turns back to his hay net and largely ignores me. This suits me just fine.

I hum to myself as I prepare Dulce. As I groom and tack up, my mind is whirring, wondering what exactly my assessment might entail. The gym assessment wasn’t so bad but, maybe, here my riding won’t seem as good as it did back home. After all, I haven’t ridden since I was ten; horses aren’t great when you’re on the run. Once I’m done, I pick up his reins and lead him out into the courtyard. Mark’s stood there waiting, holding a riding hat in his hands. He hands it to me and I put it on.

“All set?” He says, running an expert eye over Dulce to check that I’ve tacked him up properly. I nod. “Good, follow me, then.”

I follow him through another archway and along a short, sandy path until we reach a large, flat, sand school. This must’ve been here for hundreds of years because very few people know how to build a sand school now. Like civilisation, it’s a skill that’s long forgotten. Once we’re in the school, Mark locates a battered wooden block for me to stand on whilst I mount. I look at him and snort before shoving a foot into one of the stirrups and swinging myself onto Dulce’s back from the ground.

“Good,” He says, laughing, “I’m glad I won’t have to practically carry another bratty girl onto the saddle.”

“Glad to be of service.” I say dryly, digging my heels into Dulce’s sides. With a start, he lifts up his head and begins to walk forwards briskly.

“Ok,” Says Mark, “Because it’s your assessment, I’m just going to watch you ride for a few moments, ok?”

“That’s cool.” I call from the far end of the school.

I walk Dulce around the school a couple of times before I ask him to trot on. He has an odd, high-stepping trot and kicks up a large cloud of dust every time he moves. Automatically, I rise to the beat of it. It’s odd, I think, how even after such a long time, it feels like I haven’t even left the saddle at all. Every one of my reflexes, whilst slightly rusty, is still there. I still know when I need to adjust my weight and when I need to change the diagonal. I don’t even have to think about it. I suppose that, riding, like fear reflexes, is something which becomes indented into your brain, impossible to forget.

After I’ve trotted on each rein, I ask Dulce to canter. Like his trot, his canters slightly bouncy but, otherwise, it’s ok. I automatically plant myself in the saddle so that I don’t bounce around like a sack of potatoes, as my father used to say. Once I’ve finished cantering on each rein, I trot Dulce over to mark and halt in front of him. His expression is hard to read and he stands there, staring at Dulce for a few moments as though he’ll put the words into his mouth.

“Well?” I say.

“You ride very nicely.” He says appreciatively. “If you don’t mind, tomorrow, could you come down during lunch and we’ll put you on something a little more challenging.”

“Don’t mind, are you kidding?” I say incredulously, “I would rather ride than eat and as for something challenging… well, I would love to.”

“Good, untack him and sponge him down. See you tomorrow.” Mark says abruptly, turning his back and walking away. I sense that, Mark prefers horses to people so I don’t try to call him back for a chat. I find that, people who don’t want to talk are far easier to be around than people who do.

I walk Dulce around the school a couple of times, trying to contain my excitement about tomorrow. I’ve missed horses so much and now, I can come down at lunch time! I decide that, for as long as I’m at The Cottage which, I assume will be until I’m deemed ‘ready’, I will ride every lunchtime and, when I go out on my mission, I will demand a horse. Problem solved; I need never be without horses again. When you think about it, life needn’t be as complicated as people make it out to be.

Once I’ve finished looking after Dulce, I begin the long walk through the beautiful grounds up to the main building. It’s only when my stomach rumbles angrily that I realise that, I haven’t eaten yet and that it’s lunchtime. When I finally reach the entrance hall, I find that the doors to the dining hall have been flung open and that the sound of clattering knives and forks and loud, idle chatter is spilling out into the entrance hall in an unstoppable tidal wave. I walk into the large room and locate Eddie, Scarlett, Poppy, Matt, Jack and Pete who are all sitting where they were sat last night. When they see me walking over, Poppy, Eddie, Pete and Jack all wave. I slide into a space next to Eddie and look at the enormous platters of food in front of me. I select some chicken and a pile my plate high with some sort of rectangular potato things. Eddie later tells me that they’re called chips. I wolf down my food, vaguely listening to Poppy wittering away about who fancies who in her sword-fighting class. I sense that Scarlett’s watching me but I resist the urge to look up. I’m almost afraid that, if I do, she’ll talk to me. Once I’ve finished eating my food, I look up. Poppy’s still talking.

“Hey, what do you guys have next?” I ask, looking around at them. Poppy and Pete, it turns out, both have swimming down by the lake. Jack and Scarlett have sword fighting and Eddie and I both have gym. When I tell Eddie that I have gym next, his innocent face lights up as though hit by a ray of sunlight.

“Do you wanna be partners?” He asks eagerly. Scarlett stares at me so I look round at Eddie.

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to.” I say, forcing my voice to sound casual and yet enthusiastic at the same time. It’s immensely difficult, it transpires.

Scarlett snorts but everyone ignores her.

After the bell sounds for the end of lunch and Eddie and I wander off to the gym. Eddie chatters away as we walk but I zone out, grunting and nodding occasionally when it seems appropriate. Once we reach the gym, we open the doors. It’s empty.

“Where’s the instructor?” I ask.

“Oh, gyms a free period,” Eddie tells me, “We get to do what we want.” He explains, seeing my confused expression.

“Oh, ok.”

“What, you’ve never had a free period before?”

“I didn’t grow up around here, remember?”

Eddie’s mouth opens as though he’s about to say something but, by the time the words are formed, I’ve already located a treadmill and am making a beeline for it. I hop onto it and crank it up to a reasonable pace. After a few minutes, other people have begun to flood into the gym and so I speed the treadmill up until I’m almost sprinting. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Isla slide onto the treadmill next to me and crank it up to the top speed. I speed my treadmill up and hammer away on the belt. Isla speeds up too. Therefore, I speed up too. We keep going until we’re both thundering away on the treadmills and they won’t speed up and more. My lungs are burning but, when I slide my eyes across to look at Isla, I notice that, she’s still going so I stare straight ahead and force myself to keep running.

We both keep running until suddenly, I hear a loud crash and look around to find that Isla’s lying flat on the floor, having fallen off her treadmill. I turn the treadmill off before sliding onto the floor. I try to arrange my face into an expression which does not scream ‘smug’ but, judging by the way Isla kicks my leg, I wasn’t particularly convincing. Isla staggers to her feet and stands in front of me with her hands on her hips, glaring at me.

“What’s your problem?” She growls.

“Me?” I say, “I don’t have a problem.”

“Yeah you do.” She says, stepping closer to me and glaring at me.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah you do.”

“Just get out of my face.” I growl, shoving her in the chest. And that is when she punches me. I grab my nose, staunching the flow of blood with my sleeve before swinging my free fist back around and punching her square in the face. She clutches her face and kicks me in the stomach. I double over before ramming my head into her stomach and forcing her onto the floor. She grabs my leg and pulls me down. She pins me down, lying on top of me, about to aim another punch at my face.

“Shouldn’t you guys be in bikinis for that?” An amused voice calls out, echoing through the gym. Isla twists around before leaping off of me, straightening her clothes and attempting to wipe the blood off her face. Slowly, I stagger to my feet, coming face to face with a grinning Charles Grey.


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Deanie wrote a review...



Hi there 90skid!

I hope you are doing well! I haven't seen you posting many chapters lately (which is okay by me because I still have to catch up ;) But I am just checking that everything is alright!) I have been reading as usual, and I have noticed how long these chapters are. Maybe you want to make the chapters you posted shorter, or post them in two posts and call them chapter eight part one and two, or something? That way you would probably get more reviews as well!

What I liked so much about this chapter was that we got to know Charles is interested in Elizabeth. Or at least, interested enough to try and separate her from Eddie, the poor boy. The funny thing is, we have a Hunger Games kind of romance situation - which is where the main character isn't really interested in relationships at the moment. Oh, and another side that we got to see of Elizabeth is the fact that she loves horses. I wondered if she had ridden before when she was told to set up the horse, but it appears she has done.

I know that people find horses and pets as family, even though I don't know it all first hand seeing as I have no pets of my own. But how did Elizabeth's old horse end up separated from her? Did the government take it away from her, which would be another reason for her to hate them. Did it die of natural causes before that or did they kill it? I also think she wouldn't just think about riding in her old life, but more so think of her particular horse, and maybe even give it a name. They were best friends, you know, as pets often are ^^

I’m paranoid about sleeping. When I close my eyes, I feel as though someone is going to creep up behind me and try to slit my throat.


I think this was very appropriate, especially as she is someone who was on the run for the majority of her life and living alone. I think you should mention how it's not all down to paranoia, but how she is so used to be alone and now she has been thrown in with a big group of people, and how she still needs to adjust.

Oh, and talking of sleeping... let's talk of dreaming! At the end of her dream she gasps because she recognizes the man who has committed suicide. But you never tell us who she identifies the man as, and then you forget about it completely! Readers hate mysteries that aren't continued and answered, so I would advise you let the reader know who it is. And I think it would also be best to have the dream have a significance. Mention it later in the chapter or story, or have it foreshadowing something. Don't just let her have a bad dream and then forget all about it, so it only adds to the word count.

I wonder whether, in another galaxy, people are awake and wondering what’s going on in the other galaxy


This sentence is kind of repetitive in itself, and that could be easily avoided. My suggestion is this: I wonder whether, in another galaxy, people are awake and wondering about other galaxies like I am. That way we get that they would be doing exactly what she is now as well.

The tables in the hall are heavily laden with various different types of food.


Different and various mean the same thing, so it doesn't make sense to have them next to each other here. I would say to cut on of them out, but you get to choose which one. I will say though, that I prefer the word various :D

Hm, why does she keep saying the meals she is having are better than anything she has had in ages? No! It isn't! What she ate the first time round far surpassed any of what she is having now in this facility. So, you have to stop her from saying it continuously, but change what she says to things like it's delicious, or have her savouring the flavours. Just don't have it comparing the meals to previous ones, because that's when it becomes false!

At one point in this chapter you mentioned people shooting Charles longing looks, as in other girls. Which is all fine and dandy, but then again I am wondering about the age difference. My first impression was him was that of an older man, maybe 34 or something, and I assumed everyone in training was about Elizabeth's age, which would be like, 16 - 17. So how does this work without being a little odd in some people's definitions? Or have I got the ages all wrong? Either way, you might want to mention them in here so even if it is mentioned before, the reader has a clear age in mind when it comes to judging everyone's opinion of Charles.

I ignore Charles’ nod as I walk in with my well, I think I could call them friends.


You need a comma before the well, as well as the one you correctly put after it.

"Thought so, what's it about?"


I would think that comma would either be better off as a full stop or a semi colon. Take your pick :)

I wonder, why is Scarlett so glum? She's staring into her coffee cup and acting all moody, but life is going well for her! She has her boyfriend thingy going on with Matt, and her friend who loved him, Poppy, has now moved on. Which means they can soon be free and open when it comes to love department. Which means Scarlett has no more problems and no real reason to be feeling so down! So if you are going to have her acting like that, it would be nice if we had some explanation as to why. Especially when it seems like things are looking up for her :P

Also, speaking of romance, the whole ideal with Pete and Poppy seems to be happening fast. They only agreed to give it a go, what, last night? Which means the romance should be progressing slowly and steadily. I feel like Poppy's character has changed and she becomes like a silly little girl around him, and clings to him all the time! That's not the Poppy I know. And I am not a big fan of insta-love or insta-relationships for that matter. So I would love if you managed to slow their romance down a little ^^

and standing behind the range but I too stare down


Comma after the word 'too.'

“You’re going he says, with me.” He says firmly.[quote/]

This was a bit confusing. I think you got muddled with the tags and the speech marks. Here, I have redone it here for you:

"You're going with me," he says firmly.

I notice that, she’s still going so I stare straight ahead and force myself to keep running.


No comma necessary.

I wanted to feel Elizabeth's anger grow before she lashes out at Isla in return. You could either have this happen before she is struck and let her anger build as she pounds away on the treadmill, the anger only feeding her energy levels. Or you could have it happen afterwards when she is reeling from the shock of it, and suddenly she doesn't care about the pain and all she can think of it lashing out and hitting her back. Either way, I find this would be the perfect point for us to get bit more description of her emotions.

I also wondered why Elizabeth doesn't want to look smug after Isla falls. Is it because she doesn't have a real problem with her, and just wonders why Isla hates her so much? It's funny because I know that I would be feeling proud and a little bit smug if I was in Elizabeth's place. So maybe you should give us a reason for her holding back her emotions? If you make it that she just full out radiates smugness, then we don't need a reason for it, because nothing is being concealed xD

I feel like we are getting lost amongst the every day things and tests again with this story. I know I only just mentioned it in the previous review, but I felt like it needed to be brought up again to serve as a reminder. This chapter isn't much different from the others. So make sure you give us plenty of reminders so that we can get the storyline back on track!

Now, we all know that, by now, most of you should be able to shoot with a pistol by now,”


Cut one of the two 'by now's, it gets repetitive.

I sense that, Mark prefers horses to people so I don’t try to call him back for a chat. I find that, people who don’t want to talk are far easier to be around than people who do.


Both that's don't need a comma after them.

I loved reading this, and I am looking forward till when I have time to read the next part. It's always good to see the storyline of this developing and learning more about the characters. I felt like this was a very character based chapter, and characters is usually the bit I love most about any novel ;)

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Deanie x




90skids says...


thank you for another great review! I'm going to post more chapters soon it's just that I need to get more points first



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Sun Aug 31, 2014 7:51 pm
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turtlethatroars wrote a review...



Chapter eight, here comes a review!

Suggestions

going to be practising shooting
You misspell practicing here.
“You’re going he says, with me.”
Well I kinda saw this coming, which isn't a bad thing! But you should take out "he says," consider you say after that, that Charles firms says it.
pistol to Charles.Bull’s eye.
You forgot the space after the period here.
After the bell sounds for the end of lunch and Eddie and I wander off to the gym.
I would get rid of the first "and" but replace it with a comma.

As always these are just suggestions and you don't have to change anything, although it will improve your writing. :)

Lovely Things
useless whirlpool of noise.
I really like how you described this part right here. :)
The deliciously enticing smell of bacon wafts up my nostrils, igniting my hunger almost immediately.
Really really good use of words!
I found it amusing how she didn't let him have a turn when it came to the bow. :D
his innocent face lights up as though hit by a ray of sunlight.
Haha. :)
Awesome way to end this chapter!

An Overview
So overall, I found this chapter to be quite funny, especially the ending. :D Haha. I can't wait to read your other chapters!! I only had a few minor suggestions for you too. :)

Happy review day and keep writing,
turtlethatroars




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Sun Aug 31, 2014 7:14 pm
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dragonfphoenix wrote a review...



Knight Dragon, here to review on this wonderful Review Day!

I toss and turn all night and, when I finally fall asleep

Comma splice there. All you need to do is substitute a period for the comma (and capitalize), and you should be fine.

I’m surrounded by shouting people but, their words mingle...

For reading flow, that comma could be better in front of the "but." Typically commas go before the conjunctions, not after.

“You’re going he says, with me.” He says firmly.

Who says this? Charles? Or Eddie? The wording makes it a little unclear.

The sound of twelve pistols going off fills the air. I glance at the target before handing the smoking pistol to Charles.Bull’s eye.

“Good job, newbie.” Charles says as he takes the pistol. He raises it and shoots before handing the pistol back to me. We both shoot, hitting the centre of the target each time

Plot answers previous question, but that still needs some work.
With this quote, I just want to point out that she's called a "newbie," and yet manages to get a bull's eye every time. How close are they standing, exactly? Shooting is hard. If this is her very first time, that's a completely unrealistic expectation. Her first year, and that'd be a very, very uncharacteristic thing to have happen. (I haven't read the previous chapters, but that's just the impression this is giving right now.)

A rope which, is hung across one of the walls of his stable, is laden down with various rugs.

Your commas need a little work in this piece, besides the ones behind the conjunctions. You might want to go back and review comma usage and then run through the piece again to see what you could fix.

when I go out on my mission, I will demand a horse. Problem solved

I'm assuming she won't be "deemed ready" until she's had some better missions tactics. Not all missions require a horse, and some would actually suffer from having a horse. So maybe in a future chapter she'll learn that lesson? Dunno.

And that is when she punches me.

This is a good example of why formal writing can distance the reader. The way she says that so...almost candidly, it's either really cold or really funny, and it's not supposed to be (at least that I can tell). I feel like you're aiming for dramatic, but it doesn't come across that way. You could say "That's when she punches me," and it gets that more intense, climactic feel.

You have a really well-established MC. Her personality's definitely there, and it feels like you're getting your world set up nicely. Good job.

Hope this helps!

This Review Day Review courtesy of
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90skids says...


Thanks for the review! I apologise for my grammatical errors. Sometimes I forget about it when I'm typing away.



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Sun Aug 31, 2014 6:46 pm
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TimmyJake wrote a review...



Timmy here!

I think the only reason this piece has so few reviews (Erm, none) is that the work is extremely long. As far as chapters go, it is fine, really. I mean, the length for a book chapter is decent length - not too long nor too short. But for YWS, I believe you should shorten them and make them two parts or three parts, if you want to have normal length chapters. Longer chapters deter reviewers, because it means more work for them. So I think just keep the length down to about 2000 words or below for this, and you will get a lot more followers for your book. :)

As far as technical things go for your book, I have two things: Paragraphing comes first.

Looking at this, I didn't see a big problem with your paragraphing, but in some cases, they get super long. Actually, the length doesn't have anything to do with a paragraph. It's the idea. So think of a paragraph as an extremely long sentence, okay? With a sentence, you have one idea and once that idea has been expressed, you move on - right? Well, with paragraphs, you need to think the same way. Once you express an idea, and a new idea comes out, it's time to begin another paragraph. That way, your readers don't get confused, and everything is purty and neat - everything organized into single ideas the reader can focus on.

And then comes the usage of passive voice, which is a small deal, but something to remember for the future.

am walking


That is just an example - not necessarily from your work itself. That is passive voice, and you don't use it too often, but it's best to avoid it at all costs. So, in this case, instead of am walking, you would say walked or walks. Keeping it in the active voice helps a lot, and tightens your writing.

I’m staring up at the roof of the cottage. I’m surrounded by shouting people but, their words mingle into a useless whirlpool of noise. I’m transfixed by what’s happening on the roof. There’s a man standing on the edge of the turrets


You have a bit of redundancy in your work, and it's primarily with sentence openings - which is the most prominent in writers, and the easiest to fix. The hardest is the repeating of words inside the sentences, which you can never truly get rid of. So what you need to do is write how you think. Yes, I know that sounds weird, but it's totally true. Think about it: How do you think? Do you go: I shall do this, and then I shall do this. I hate this. I don't do this, etc...? No, everything flows smoothly across, the ideas and thoughts flowing beautifully, and everything is just so perfect. Your mind is truly a wonderful thing. So, when writing, try to mirror that. Write like you think. Alternative sentence openings and stuff really help.

As far as the story goes, it was fun to read and very relatable. I liked that her friend was writing a book, but was still shy to reveal it's contents and stuff. I found that extremely relatable, because I still find it difficult to tell people that I am writing a book. I don't really know why. Maybe we think of them as a personal thing? But I liked that part. Very realistic. And I like how your character is very teenageish, and acts it, too. It's lovely that she is a realistic person, and not your stereotypical person in books who does everything perfectly. She is flawed, and I liked that. Your writing style also lets us into the character, how she works, thinks, her emotions - that cool stuff. It's nice to be able to read this and know what the character is like.

Great job!
~Darth Timmyjake




90skids says...


When I've read through my writing, I've picked up on my passive tense usage. It's just something which I seem to forget about when I'm typing away.
The character of Pete and his book is sort of like a self-portrait (even though I'm a girl) that I put in for fun.



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Sun Aug 31, 2014 6:33 pm
AdmiralKat wrote a review...



Hello! KatyaElefant here for another review! Happy Review Day! Let's see what we have here.

I look at this and right off the bat I see that it's really long. I advise that you split this up at least into two parts because when I read this, I lost my place so many times. XD I understand the reason on why you have it so long. You have a lot to say and this is how long chapters are in books. Another thing that you could do and is the same as in the last chapter is that you need to shorten the length of your paragraphs so that I also don't loose my place. You also need to describe the way the people talk in here, the same as the last chapter. The people need to express their way of talking because everyone is unique.

Now, I don't want to drag you down and go you are the worst writer that I have ever seen(I am the worst writer that I have ever seen), so I'm going to tell you all the amazing things in your piece that makes me jump for joy! Your grammar and spelling is amazing, as far as I could see you had no mistakes and so I could read through the words pretty well. Your imagery in the non-dialogue parts is really good. I could see all the actions that you displayed here. I think that your story is developing very nicely and for that you get 5 stars(somehow). Overall, great job with your writing. Not too many mistakes on your part. Have a nice review day. Keep calm and keep writing! :D




90skids says...


Thanks for the kind review :)



AdmiralKat says...


No problem!




Mr. Scorpio says productivity is up 2%, and it's all because of my motivational techniques -- like donuts and the possibility of more donuts to come.
— Homer Simpson