All I could see were spots. Rows and rows of them. Black, blue, red, pink; a kaleidoscope of colors whirling in front of me, making me nauseous. Or maybe I was nauseous already. I stared intently at the blinking lights, wondering what they were doing and when they were going to leave.
It took a while for them to fade. I had to blink over and over again before my watery eyes started to register anything else. I looked around, hazily noting the interior of a van. The tiny amour of light coming from the windows blinded me. I shut my eyes and kept them closed for a long time. My head ached like I'd gotten several concussions. Slowly, my brain gathered strength, and I pulled my sleep-incrusted eyes open again, for just a little longer than the last time. My vision focused.
Was that Mariana? Her familiar face was pale in the dim light, comforting me in the middle of an alien setting. I tried shifting, and noticed I couldn't. I got pins-and-needles as I tried to figure out why it was hard to move. It dawned on me as I regained feeling in my limbs that I had ropes bound around my wrists and feet. Someone had seriously hogtied Mariana and me and thrown us in the back of a van.
Hmm. Hands behind my back. Nice touch, said my scrambled brain whimsically. Very "Old-West".
I closed my eyes again. With effort, I concentrated on the hazy memories in the back of my head. It was almost like the memories were taking their time swimming back up to the surface. It suddenly all came together. The party. The drinks we had ordered. Of course. But how was I to know that those funny-looking chefs had spiked our drinks? I had just sipped on an icy glass of Sprite. I thought I'd be safe, knowing I wouldn't be driving home drunk. But look how well that had turned out.
A man's face appeared out the small window in front of us, shocking me out of my memories.
"Ooh, look! One of 'em's awake!" he sneered. He had tousled red hair and a scraggly beard. His pinstriped navy-blue shirt collar was popped up. He might even have been described as "cute" if he didn't obviously smoke cigarettes. He absolutely reeked of tobacco. His clothes were disgustingly stained. And there was no way he was over 18.
"Great. I was hoping we could do this without them waking up," snarled a second voice, not much older. He must have been driving, because he didn't turn around. He sounded drunk. I wasn't very reassured.
"Well, this way, it'll be more fun," chirped the younger man. A manic glint flashed in his eyes and he gave me a wicked tobacco-stained grin.
I didn't know what he wanted, but it scared the living daylights out of me. My pupils dilated. I tried screaming to wake Mariana up, but I realized with alarming certainty that my mouth was filled with a used oilcloth. So I sat and waited quietly in the trunk for something-- anything --to happen.
About an hour passed by. I know because I counted the seconds. There was nothing else to do, and counting distracts me from panicking. Mariana woke slowly. It took several pokes with my elbows to bring her back to consciousness. She looked confused at first. She was about as dazed and clueless as I probably was when I woke up. But after a few minutes, the drug wore off and she started crying.
Why am I not crying? I asked myself. I should've been. I'd been kidnapped. I was hogtied in the back of a stranger's van with no chance of escape. Maybe I'm just in shock.
Mariana screamed wildly through the grimy dishrag in her mouth. Tears rolled down her face and splashed on her gold sequin-encrusted party dress. She whipped around and screamed and cried. I thought about trying to calm her, but there was no point. She was hysterical.
I waited for her to burn out. She lay in the other corner of the van, hair ruffled and mascara dripping, finally silent. I felt obliged to try and comfort her. As I edged closer, I noticed something. Well, several somethings.
First: The window to the front of the van was still open.
Second: Mariana had freed her fingers the tiniest bit in her struggling.
Third: There was a padlocked translucent case of power tools and knives hanging from the wall. (I shudder to think what they might have been for.)
Fourth: We were slowly speeding up, so we must have been heading towards a bigger road. Police patrol on big roads.
And I remembered something else that my friend told me a long time ago.
Mariana is very good at picking locks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mariana stretched out a little, trying to get closer. She was still crying, but she seemed saner now. I smiled through the revolting cloth, and mumbled a bit, gesturing with my head and shoulders to turn around. She looked confused, but did it. I bent my head to the level of her loosely tied hands and let her touch it. It took a minute, but she managed to get my message. I relaxed my jaw and let her yank the accursed rag out of my mouth. I grinned as the squirmed back around. She smiled sickly and gestured for me to do the same.
"Try it for yourself" I whispered.
Mariana wiggled her hands and made a little progress. She was tearing up her hands on the rough ropes, but time was of the essence, and I couldn't stop her now. After managing to free her hands and getting both of us untied, she removed her gag and we went through my plan. We whispered, but we may as well not have. The car was jittering and shaking and clanking and crunching all over the place. The man driving was definitely drunk; he swerved and hit large objects all over the place, and may have gone through the gravel on someone's driveway once or twice.
Once we had the details understood, Mariana helped me open the clear plastic tool case with her delicate manicured fingers and one of my bobby pins. As soon as we had it open, I picked out the right tool for the job and stood up shakily. I fingered the hilt of my bright silver razor and winced at the dried blood speckling its smooth surface. Mariana brandished her own weapon, a large hacksaw, and motioned comando-style for me to go forwards. I staggered up to the front of the rocking van and leaned out the window, towards the side of the red-haired man. Immediately, my hand came into contact with the tip of a burning cigarette.
I ignored the pain and the squeal of shock, and reached blindly down until I found his bare, stubbly neck. I gripped the razor and pressed it to her neck. A few drops of blood trickled into my palm.
"Stop the damn car," I snarled.
But the driver, instead of doing as I said, just yelped and started swerving left and right across the road. He got over himself for a minute and put his foot down hard on the accelerator. The red-haired man screamed, his Adam's apple buzzing against my hand. And I knew that I was going to die for sure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The policeman who works on the entrance to Highway 9-87 has earned my eternal debt of gratitude.
He discovered a speeding blue van with tinted windows swerving through several lanes next to the entrance of the highway at 70 miles per hour. As a true officer of the law, he stopped the driver immediately. What's more, instead of simply accepting the word of the pale and heavily sweating driver, he checked the passenger seat. What he found was a terrified young woman in a turquoise party dress holding a razor blade to the throat of a red-haired boy. Instead of demanding an explanation, he arrested all of the people in the car and made sure that I wasn't arrested for threatening to cut someone's throat.
When we got home, our parents hugged us and screamed and cried their eyes out. It seemed to last forever, and it was WONDERFUL. We spent hours talking to our families and playing cheesy games and just being glad to be alive.
Apparently, the police wrapped up the case of the kidnappers in less than a week. They found the right files in their records as soon as the killers were brought in, but they couldn't get concrete proof. Then someone touched the right nerve in the interrogations (I may have anonymously sent a tip), and the killers sang like songbirds. I wish I could visit their cells one day and mock them. Those men put me through Hell.
And what happened to Mariana and I? We made a pact never to accept a drink at a party again.
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125,029 Literary Works • 672,781 Reviews
Hey CuriosityCat!
First of all, I just want to make it clear that this story is really truly amazingly written!!! I loved reading it! Though I do believe you could of possible made it my favorite book if you had added a little more, like maybe you could write a little bit of the story in the police officer's point of view. Really though, this is a fantastic story! Great Job!
-SnazzyPencil
~CuriosityCat
Salutations.
This short story certainly has potential, and with a little more hard work, it can become a fantastic piece of writing! By saying that I don't mean it isn't good, because it is, but it isn't great, which is something both you and I want.
The best way to improve your short story is to understand what a short story is; it is not a miniature novel or just a short story - it has many other aspects as well. Of these, brevity is undoubtedly the most important: only include what is necessary and what contributes to the overall impression of the short story. There are literally books written on the topic, so I cannot possibly explain all of that here, so instead, I shall review your short story bit by bit and then overall.
It takes a while for me to wake up.
Whether you are writing a novel, an essay, or an article, your first sentence must be striking. The title is what draws the reader's attention, but the first sentence is what must convince him or her to continue reading. In this case, the first sentence is lacklustre.
Also, stories are written in past tense. Why? Because you are telling a story - the events have already taken place. Many amateur authors write in the present tense, but that could only be correct if the events are happening at the very same moment the reader is reading it. Hence, the present tense in dialogue = correct; the present tense in narration = incorrect. You use the present tense throughout your short story, so I suggest you rewrite it in the past tense.
Unfurling by eyelids...
I understand you were trying to be creative when you wrote this, but it sounds horribly awkward, so I advise you change it. Also, you wrote by instead of my.
I shut my eyes and keep them closed for a long time.
Writing this two sentences after stating the protagonist has woken is odd, as well as the way in which you wrote it.
My brain gathers strength, and I peel my eyes open again...
Umm... how to put it...? This doesn't read well, unless her eyes are bananas.
My eyes focus for a second.
In three consecutive sentences you wrote "my eyes". It gets tiring quickly.
Her prominent cheekbones poke out in the dim lights as the only familiar thing I can see.
This sentence's structure is awkward. Also...
~ How is someone's cheekbones so prominent that they actually poke out?
~ When you say the light of an area is dim, you do not refer to the light in the plural.
~ Would you recognise your best friend by his/her cheekbones alone?
I try shifting, and notice I can't.
I often place my ands after commas as well, but in this case, the comma disrupts the flow of the sentence and serves no purpose.
I get a pins-and-needles feeling as I try to figure out why it's hard to move.
"Pins-and-needles" automatically refer to the feeling - the phrase has no other meaning.
Someone has honest-to-God hogtied Mariana and I, and thrown us in the back of a van.
I have a few problems with this sentence.
~ Firstly, the underlined text serves the same purpose as a swear word - in both cases, it is used to convey emotion, but in such a crude fashion that it is unpleasant to encounter it in a piece of writing. In fact, it would have shown far more skill if the author of said text had written something impressive. What makes it even worse is that here, it is redundant; placing "hogtied" in italics communicates the same emotion, but in a more sophisticated way.
~ Secondly, the I you used in "Mariana and I" needs to reflect its function in your sentence. It does not, because the correct pronoun is me.
~ Finally, the comma in your sentence is yet again redundant.
It is worrying that I have flared so many errors in your first paragraph alone, so grammatically- and stylistically-wise, you have quite a lot of revising to do. Hence forth, I shall only point out the most significant errors.
With effort, I stare into the gloom in the back of my head and try to concentrate.
I realise you meant the meaning of this sentence to be partly physical, but also partly metaphorical, but it results in a very odd, disturbing sentence; you can only stare into the back of your head if your eyes can rotate one hundred and eighty degrees and if your head is hollow.
"Ooh, look! One of 'em's awake!" He sneers.
If the text following the dialogue refers directly back to said dialogue, e.g. "he said", "she asked", "they shouted", then the first word is NOT capitalised - the only time it is capitalised, is if it does not indicate how the person spoke, e.g. "He turned to face her". Here are three examples to illustrate my point:
~ "You pig!" she shouted.
~ "You pig!" She turned around and stalked off.
~ "You pig!" she shouted and slapped him.
It takes several pokes with my elbows to yank her back to consciousness.
In this case, you can say takes several pokes and yank her back is related, context-wise. Grammar-wise, they are certainly not, since you cannot yank someone back to consciousness by poking them.
Why am I not crying?
We both know that if you want to place emphasis on a particular word, you place it in italics. When you are already writing in italics because the text is a thought or the words of a telepathic conversation, you do not emphasise the word by placing it in bold, but by removing the italics from it, i.e. writing it normally.
1. The window to the front of the van is still open.
2. Mariana has freed her fingers the tiniest bit in her struggling.
3. There is a padlocked translucent case of power tools and knives hanging from the wall. (I shouldn't think about what they are for. Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it...)
4. We are speeding up, so we must be going towards a bigger road. Police patrol on big roads.
You may not use a numbered list in any form of prose unless the character is writing a letter; you write it out.
They found the right files in their records as soon as the killers were brought in...
Whoa, you cannot simply mention the two kidnappers being killers when there is literally no other reference of a murder having been committed.
Then someone touched the right nerve in the interrogations (I may have anonymously sent a tip), and the killers sang like songbirds.
You say "the right nerve" was touched, but you give no further explanation why it was the right one, or even what it is. In a short story you should leave things out, but only unnecessary things.
And what happened to Mariana and I? We made a pact never to accept a drink at a party again.
These are actually the best sentences in your whole short story, not because they are the last two, but because of how striking and effective they are.
In a short story, there is usually a main aspect on which there is focussed. In this case, I would say it is the events which take place before, after and during the short story. Since we have established that, let's see how you succeeded and how you can improve.
Quite simply, your short story is simply too short to provide a satisfactory read. For example, you skipped what happened after the protagonist remembered her friend could pick locks and before the policeman came upon the car. Why?! That part was the most ideal opportunity for you to show us what a great writer you are, yet you left it out completely. What did the girls experience while they were trying to get loose? Fear? Anxiety? Hope? All of these? Now, we'll never know. It's as if you had decided the short story isn't worth any more effort, but if that was indeed the case, how can you expect the reader to make the effort to read and review your short story?
Other aspects of your short story are mediocre as well, but at least your theme is great. You wanted to capture the essence of such a traumatic and dangerous experience, and you have done so excellently. You have once again reminded the reader of the dangers the "real world" poses, and hopefully they will keep this in mind in future.
Overall, your short story is lacking in certain aspects, but your theme makes it worth the read. This story has so much potential, all you need to do now is harness it and use your heart and soul in your writing.
Salutations.
This short story certainly has potential, and with a little more hard work, it can become a fantastic piece of writing! By saying that I don't mean it isn't good, because it is, but it isn't great, which is something both you and I want.
The best way to improve your short story is to understand what a short story is; it is not a miniature novel or just a short story - it has many other aspects as well. Of these, brevity is undoubtedly the most important: only include what is necessary and what contributes to the overall impression of the short story. There are literally books written on the topic, so I cannot possibly explain all of that here, so instead, I shall review your short story bit by bit and then overall.
Whether you are writing a novel, an essay, or an article, your first sentence must be striking. The title is what draws the reader's attention, but the first sentence is what must convince him or her to continue reading. In this case, the first sentence is lacklustre.
Also, stories are written in past tense. Why? Because you are telling a story - the events have already taken place. Many amateur authors write in the present tense, but that could only be correct if the events are happening at the very same moment the reader is reading it. Hence, the present tense in dialogue = correct; the present tense in narration = incorrect. You use the present tense throughout your short story, so I suggest you rewrite it in the past tense.
I understand you were trying to be creative when you wrote this, but it sounds horribly awkward, so I advise you change it. Also, you wrote by instead of my.
Writing this two sentences after stating the protagonist has woken is odd, as well as the way in which you wrote it.
Umm... how to put it...? This doesn't read well, unless her eyes are bananas.
In three consecutive sentences you wrote "my eyes". It gets tiring quickly.
This sentence's structure is awkward. Also...
~ How is someone's cheekbones so prominent that they actually poke out?
~ When you say the light of an area is dim, you do not refer to the light in the plural.
~ Would you recognise your best friend by his/her cheekbones alone?
I often place my ands after commas as well, but in this case, the comma disrupts the flow of the sentence and serves no purpose.
"Pins-and-needles" automatically refer to the feeling - the phrase has no other meaning.
I have a few problems with this sentence.
~ Firstly, the underlined text serves the same purpose as a swear word - in both cases, it is used to convey emotion, but in such a crude fashion that it is unpleasant to encounter it in a piece of writing. In fact, it would have shown far more skill if the author of said text had written something impressive. What makes it even worse is that here, it is redundant; placing "hogtied" in italics communicates the same emotion, but in a more sophisticated way.
~ Secondly, the I you used in "Mariana and I" needs to reflect its function in your sentence. It does not, because the correct pronoun is me.
~ Finally, the comma in your sentence is yet again redundant.
It is worrying that I have flared so many errors in your first paragraph alone, so grammatically- and stylistically-wise, you have quite a lot of revising to do. Hence forth, I shall only point out the most significant errors.
I realise you meant the meaning of this sentence to be partly physical, but also partly metaphorical, but it results in a very odd, disturbing sentence; you can only stare into the back of your head if your eyes can rotate one hundred and eighty degrees and if your head is hollow.
If the text following the dialogue refers directly back to said dialogue, e.g. "he said", "she asked", "they shouted", then the first word is NOT capitalised - the only time it is capitalised, is if it does not indicate how the person spoke, e.g. "He turned to face her". Here are three examples to illustrate my point:
~ "You pig!" she shouted.
~ "You pig!" She turned around and stalked off.
~ "You pig!" she shouted and slapped him.
In this case, you can say takes several pokes and yank her back is related, context-wise. Grammar-wise, they are certainly not, since you cannot yank someone back to consciousness by poking them.
We both know that if you want to place emphasis on a particular word, you place it in italics. When you are already writing in italics because the text is a thought or the words of a telepathic conversation, you do not emphasise the word by placing it in bold, but by removing the italics from it, i.e. writing it normally.
You may not use a numbered list in any form of prose unless the character is writing a letter; you write it out.
Whoa, you cannot simply mention the two kidnappers being killers when there is literally no other reference of a murder having been committed.
You say "the right nerve" was touched, but you give no further explanation why it was the right one, or even what it is. In a short story you should leave things out, but only unnecessary things.
These are actually the best sentences in your whole short story, not because they are the last two, but because of how striking and effective they are.
In a short story, there is usually a main aspect on which there is focussed. In this case, I would say it is the events which take place before, after and during the short story. Since we have established that, let's see how you succeeded and how you can improve.
Quite simply, your short story is simply too short to provide a satisfactory read. For example, you skipped what happened after the protagonist remembered her friend could pick locks and before the policeman came upon the car. Why?! That part was the most ideal opportunity for you to show us what a great writer you are, yet you left it out completely. What did the girls experience while they were trying to get loose? Fear? Anxiety? Hope? All of these? Now, we'll never know. It's as if you had decided the short story isn't worth any more effort, but if that was indeed the case, how can you expect the reader to make the effort to read and review your short story?
Other aspects of your short story are mediocre as well, but at least your theme is great. You wanted to capture the essence of such a traumatic and dangerous experience, and you have done so excellently. You have once again reminded the reader of the dangers the "real world" poses, and hopefully they will keep this in mind in future.
Overall, your short story is lacking in certain aspects, but your theme makes it worth the read. This story has so much potential, all you need to do now is harness it and use your heart and soul in your writing.
Thank you! I wrote this really hastily, so I appreciate the review!
I am glad it was of help!