Hey all! Sorry for not writing in, well, has it been almost two months now? Either way, not good. SORRY!
This bit here may not make complete sence just yet, but just trust me on this. And I'm sorry in advance, usually I post chapers at once (but still in parts) you may have to wait a couple of days for the second half (not months, I promice!).
I think something is wrong with the last bit, after the dream, but I can't put my finger on it.
One more thing (just 1). If my charector is going to curse (in the appropreate situation) how do I handle that? Do I just evoid it or do I say something like, "What the h*ll!" with a little astris?
Thanks everybody! Enjoy!
Chapter 5
Ugh, shut up! That thing is the most obnoxious alarm I have ever heard in my life. I’ve tried, really I have, to get a new one or something but it has never quite worked out. With some scrambling, I manage to reach the small off switch in the back.
I curl back into the sweet cocoon of a quilt wrapped around me and throw a pillow over my head. My legs slide into my chest and I bring myself into a little ball. I’ll get up in a minute. Matt and Jane can wait just a little bit longer. Besides, if I get up now I will look like some old hag.
***
My fingers drum against the waiting room chair, sending echoes throughout the empty room. They do realize that they were supposed to pick me up, right? The hunchback lady behind the front desk says that she’ll personally drop kick me into the pond out front if she catches me just waiting here again. Where are they! I twist my boot around on the squeaky tiled floor listening to the different noises it makes. They must have forgotten, again. I swear, someone should strap some kind of alarm to their heads just to remind them that their forgotten daughter needs some small attention.
Maybe I should just go look for them. They don’t want me wandering around this place anyway. It would serve as the perfect reminder. I pause to think for a moment. No, I’ll give them fifteen more minutes.
I try looking around the room to pass some time, but it’s the same as ever. The spotless windows face a perfect garden. Twelve cushioned chairs are lined up perfectly in a row and the floor is so shiny it could be a mirror. Even Lord Hermal’s portrait is perfect, although if you ask me, it’s creepy. I grew up looking at the guy, I should be used to seeing his picture everywhere, but his eyes are just empty. They say he came to power five years before I was born and ordered images of himself to be placed in all public places and homes.
I keep looking at him for a moment. His hair is cropped short and he is cleanly shaven, well, except for the side burns. I guess as High Lord he can wear his hair however he likes. Aside from that, and the gray uniform with a couple dozen badges, he looks like a regular guy. All the same, something is off about him. I just can’t quite put my finger on it.
A cool breeze rushes over me and I shiver. Seriously, where are my parents! I’m going after them.
I stand up and stretch my legs out a bit. They better not be far off, because I am not walking all over this forsaken place just to get a ride home. With swift stomping strides, I power down the corridors, not really caring who sees me.
They’ll probably be down somewhere in the ER. They think they’re so good, saving strangers lives. Well, at least I know it’s all just an act. As soon as they actually know a person they become more than happy to neglect them to their hearts content. Well I’m sorry, but I need more than just the occasional phone call. Really though, I would be fine if they actually came home before three am; but they don’t do that, and I’m done putting up with it.
My feet retrace the past I practically memorized as a kid. I fly around corners and down long paths, dodging nurses and patience alike. No one really takes a second glance at me; they’re probably sick of seeing me here too.
I stomp my way up the stairs, purposely making as much noise as possible. With any luck, some nurse will do all the shouting for me and I can just go home. When the stairs end and I reach the second floor I’m forced to conjoin with the usual mob of people milling through the halls.
What idiot put the emergency room on the second floor and this far away from the waiting room? I swear, the person would be dead by the time they came this far.
I turn another corner and make my way into the emergency wing. Really though, why is it called the emergency room? Don’t they need more than one? Or do they just have people waiting in line? Anyway, not the point. My parents’ official office is just up ahead. I still don’t see why they need it in the first place. They’re hardly ever in there.
Their thick medal door is just barely cracked open. Mom always does that, I swear it’s like she just can’t grasp the concept of privacy. I push the door in and let it slam against the wall. Empty. Figures.
It’s a windowless room with two desks and several filing cabinets. Whatever space remains gets covered by an endless mound of papers. It screams disorganization.
Second cabinet to the left, two drawers down; they always keep their schedules locked up, but it can’t hurt to check anyway. My hand latches around the frigid metal handle and starts to tug gently. Nothing.
I pull a bobby pin out from the back of my hair and nudge it gently into the keyhole. I twist it around, just like he taught me, and the tumblers fall into place. The drawer opens with a half-concealed creek.
Their schedule should be in the very back next to all the others. They are so anal about this, they never throw anything away. I pull out a crème colored folder and leaf through its contents. Page after page of preprinted schedules and endless sticky-notes fill the file to bursting. Without really thinking, I grab the paper I want and shove everything back where it was.
A violet colored nail runs it way down the front of the page, searching out the time and place. Room 211. The note gets crumpled and shoved down my boot.
I take one last look around the room before heading out; oh it doesn’t matter. I shut the door all the way behind me and leave the passersby to wonder who the strange girl leaving the office is.
The room isn’t too far off, just down the hall actually. It’s not a real ER, but it’s where my parents work out of. To be honest, I really don’t know what they actually do. I usually just go with ‘they work in the ER;’ that’s what they always told me anyway. How on earth they could have a preprinted schedule for when people almost die is beyond me.
The walls are littered with religiously dusted frames of old wrinkly men in suits. Their eyes creep down my back, urging my legs to go that little bit faster. It’s like they will reach out of their frames and pluck me straight out of the hospital. I find myself picking it up into a quick run.
Nurses with too much to do plow past me and barely even notice I’m here. Patients are rushed through the halls on gurneys, moaning in pain. Occasionally soldiers with machine guns escort a priest to his next room where he will make his death blessing. The hallways part for them, not wanting to get to close.
I skid to a halt next to a wooden door. Just as I reach for the handle, the door opens inwards, revealing an old doctor dressed in blue and white. His face is lined and haggard. I stumble back in shock, nearly falling completely to the floor. He glares at me, as if that is his typical expression.
“What are you doing?” he barks.
“I… I’m looking for my parents, um, Sir,” I stammer.
His wrinkled hand clutches the doorframe with white knuckle strength as he looks at me more closely. His eyes widen slightly under is wide rimmed glasses and he says slowly, “I’m sorry, but your parents aren’t here. Go back to the waiting room.”
No, I know they’re in there, and I am defiantly not going back all the way to some waiting room thank you very much.
His body blocks the door way, concealing the room beyond. Emma, you had better be right about this. With a short burst of speed I dive through the small gap between the man and the wall. My heart sounds a drum beat in my ears and the walls start to blur together. I see my parent off to the left of the room, crowding around an old table with several others.
“So who is going to dispose of the body then?” my father whispers.
'His hair is cropped short and he is cleanly shaven, well, except for the side burns.' Sideburns is one word.
'They think they’re so good, saving strangers lives. Well, at least I know it’s all just an act. As soon as they actually know a person they become more than happy to neglect them to their hearts content.' You left out a few apostrophes. Strangers' lives and hearts' content.
'They better not be far off, because I am not walking all over this forsaken place just to get a ride home.' The correct way to write this would be 'they had better not'. 'They'd better not' is also considered acceptable, but leaving the 'had' out altogether is not recommended in writing.
'I turn another corner and make my way into the emergency wing. Really though, why is it called the emergency room? Don’t they need more than one? Or do they just have people waiting in line?' You just called it the emergency wing, then room. I think you meant 'room' all the way.
'Their thick medal door is just barely cracked open.' Should be 'metal'.
The drawer opens with a half-concealed creek. That should be 'creak', and 'concealed' is usually used for something that is visible, not audible. Try a substitute that applies to sounds.
'A violet colored nail runs it way down the front of the page.' Okay, I would recommend that you keep this active, so, say, 'I run a violet-colored nail down the front of the page.' This sentence also includes some other corrections.
I take one last look around the room before heading out; oh it doesn’t matter. What doesn't matter?
'not wanting to get to close.' Too close.
'Just as I reach for the handle, the door opens inwards, revealing an old doctor dressed in blue and white.' Why blue and white? That sounds like a sailor or a prisoner, not a doctor. If that is not the special dress of these specific doctors.
“I… I’m looking for my parents, um, Sir,” The 'sir' does not go with capitalisation. Lowercase letters all the way.
'His wrinkled hand clutches the doorframe with white knuckle strength as he looks at me more closely. ' The 'white-knuckle'. It needs a hyphen.
'I am defiantly not going back.' That would be 'definitely', not defiantly.
Doorway is one word. (In the same paragraph as the last.)
'I see my parent off to the left of the room.' My parents. Plural.
“So who is going to dispose of the body then?” This is not the first time that I have seen you use that pattern before; the 'so' and the 'then' in the same sentence. One of those is usually enough.
This may look like a lot of mistakes, but to be fair, it is a long piece, and those are all piffling little things.
Content:
I was wondering who the narrator is this time, as you only said Emma very late in the chapter. Previously, I didn't doubt it, because the chapters were an unbroken timeline, but now it skips some time, so the reader is thrown off the track a bit. Make it clear who is speaking right at the start.
Your character is showing a bit more character, but now I am longing for some dialogue to keep it flowing! So far it has been a lot of musing and experiencing, so I think the main character needs to interact with her environment, especially the people around her, a bit more.
You can ignore this, but it is just about realism. Have you ever tried to pick a lock? It's not all that easy! Suppose it is a simple pin tumbler lock. (And you don't usually know that.) You would first have to strip the plastic knob off the end of the pin and bend it open so that only one end goes in. But, to get the pins into position to open the lock, you need two things: a tension wrench and a pick. So you need two pins, or you have to snap your one bobby pin. You have to bend the two bits to make different hook-shapes. You then have to use the wrench to exert torsion on the lock, and the pick to 'rake' the pins into position. And that takes a bit more time than you suggest, and the improvised pick usually gives trouble. But it doesn't really matter, because most people don't know how lock-picking works.
purpleandblue22 wrote:The hunchback lady behind the front desk says that she’ll personally drop kick me into the pond out front if she catches me just waiting here again.
Well this was an interesting chapter. Cant really say iv'e followed your entire novel but after reading this chapter i deffinately have to go back to the beginning it was a really good piece. Love the humor you included in your writing and how you kept the reader included. I love it when an arthur poses questions to reader through his character because that goes against the norm of storytelling. Most of the time people tell you stories but it's rare your included in them. I think you should read the series Maximum Ride by James Patterson. It's a little like the approach your using just a whole lot more lifelike. For instance when you wrote:
purpleandblue22 wrote:Really though, why is it called the emergency room? Don’t they need more than one? Or do they just have people waiting in line?
The reader poses that question to himself then but in Maximum Ride they directly speak to the reader. Like in one of the books i remember the main character addressing the reader with questions and instructions! For the most part it just make the book alot more fun and i think your kinda leaning toward that idea and it makes me wonder if your book is gonna become my next favorite. Keep it up though good job.
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Reviews: 304
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