Shady back with another review to rescue another of your chapters from the Green Room! You are already familiar with my reviewing style at this point, so let's jump straight on in to the review.
She was frying something on the stove, something savory and intriguing.
So, I can't remember if you're one of the people who has been the recipient of my soapbox before, but I'm going to give it again, just in case. I am a big proponent of not repeating words in close proximity to one another, and here you have the word "something" repeated twice in the same sentence. I would suggest rephrasing it so that you only have one occurrence of the word.
If you tried something like "She was frying something on the stove that smelled savory and intrigued him" that would get rid of the other something. I know that's not the World's Greatest Example or anything like that, but something along those lines, you know?
Way to gloss it over, Brent, Raffie thought with a modicum of contempt.
Why is he upset about it? Does he /want/ people repeating over and over the brutal murder of his family?
The officer was noticeably taken aback, angered and afraid, as well as appalled.
Is he a new officer? If not, this seems like it's really really strange characterization for a police officer. I mean, his job is literally dealing with criminals. So he's no doubt seen really unsavory characters -- people who are FAR more intimidating than an angry housewife. Why in the world would he be afraid of her?
Ashwin was a literal towering medieval fortress; one could just imagine him in a full-body suit of armor charging on a steed, jousting with an equal foe. One could think many things about that man, but Hennessy Richardson was just plain afraid.
1) Is he a literal fortress? Because literal means that that is what he actually is. But he's a human, not a medieval fortress, which means that he is not "literally" a fortress. "Ashwin seemed like a towering..." would make more sense.
2) Also, I'm really not sure what's up with Richardson's timidness and fear, but I'm not loving it. He's an officer. Act like it.
“Hey, Jefferson. How’s your girl?”
This feels really out of place. He's all serious about finding Derek. Then all of a sudden he shifts to being really casual asking about the girlfriend. And then he gets super serious again. It just... feels off.
even though nothing evil as of yet had happened to the McCollinses’ son.
This feels like a wee bit too heavy-handed in presumably foreshadowing. I might be wrong but now that I read this I kind of expect Derek to be found dead somewhere.
Raffie held onto the shadow of an inkling of a thread of hope
This sentence is a bit rambling. And I see a couple sentences later that this is setting you up for that cool sentence. But this is a bit hard to follow with how it's written with the two "of"s adding in more layers of complexity.
On a tree a few meters away were bloody claw marks.
Oooh, snap!
~ ~ ~
Wow! This is probably my favorite chapter so far. You did an excellent job of capturing the tension throughout and all the emotions and drama being flung around -- and you ended on such an intense cliffhanger too. Excellent job!
I know you're probably getting tired of me saying it at this point but this was also too long of a chapter -- but it felt like the shortest one (even though if I remember correctly the previous one was a bit shorter) because of all of the action and tension making me want to read on and motivating me to keep going.
Hi again! My friend eggeggegg should be helping me review one of your other chapters. We're great friends from school.
My name is Raphael Cortez, he thought. I am from the Cortez family, I have Cortez blood. No matter who I live with, I will always and forever be Cortez. Nothing can make me think otherwise.
Okay, I'm just going to go back to something I said in my first review, the one for chapter three: This is just a little stereotypical. Not in an offensive way or anything, it's like impossible to be offended by this . But the tying together of latino, poor, and extra-religious is a very common trope. I'm not saying you have to change anything, but just keep that in mind when writing future stories.
She had brown, curly hair. Her face was concealed at that moment, but he remembered its features from the night before: an oval face, creased with weariness; blue eyes, rather vague and distant. She didn’t say much that previous night.
You always do such a good job with your descriptions of people. I can really picture her!
“Brent and Derek? They’re probably still sleeping. I was surprised anyone would wake up at this hour.”
But Derek wasn’t…
Oooh... where's Derek? Excellent subtle intrigue.
He saw a nondescript dining table not far off. The placemats were plastic, and had a red plaid design on them which reminded him curiously of roosters and farm life. There was an oblong glass vase in the middle with fake flowers.
This reminds me of every lower-middle class household I've ever been to. You really have a grasp on the imagery of family life!
“Derek might be missing! Get up and get your shoes on, damn it! We don’t want another Yellowwood Grove!”
I love it when people do this in their stories, bring up a past event we don't know about and don't really describe what happens so we have to try and figure it out. I also love it when a similar thing happens in video games. I'm really into sort of dark video games, like Silent Hill or the Resident Evil games. Lately, I've been playing Resident Evil: Code Veronica.
“That’s a story for another moment,” Mother McCollins said.
More mystery! I love it.
“Sure thing. My name’s Hennessy Richardson; you can call me Hans.”
You come up with some amazing names for your characters.
Raffie’s body was wavering like a palm in the tropic wind, like a tiny boat amidst a sea of impenetrable mirk. Ghouls walked the night and fought for a voice in Raffie’s mind; he knew them not real yet believed them real all the same. Fear consumed him, stopped him, kept his body moving through the ink of terror and unknown. He wanted to drown in that ink, be devoured by it, and spat out onto sunny land. He wanted out, wanted out, wanted out. Terror coursed through his body and dulled it to electric response. Blackness hit him and ebbed around him, and the only saving grace was the lighting of a lamp to shine a narrow path. Far they traveled - miles, miles, endless miles, following that solemn, solitary light. A sudden cold wind came through, and the light was extinguished. They were left in a purgatory of coldness and cruelty, of eternal pain and suffering. There was nothing to restore their hope, nothing to show the way. Raffie felt a sudden eerie feeling of omen, a prescient knowledge of darkness - not of night, but of circumstances. He continued on stumbling behind the people he could not see but still heard, and he suddenly tripped over a log. His arms hit the needle-ridden ground, and his long hair hung in his eyes. Wendy heard him trip, and with sightless action went over to him. “Are you all right, Raphael?” she asked. He nodded, and went to support himself up on the surface of the log.
I love the similies in this paragraph. This is just amazingly descriptive.
The log felt eerily soft, and not wood-like. It felt cold yet warm.
oh holy shitake mushrooms. It's the kid isn't it. oh my god oh my god oh my god
“Yes, I’m… all right. Wendy, can you get a light?”
“Sure, Raffie.”
The sketchy lamp Hennessy had was brought over and relit, and shone above Raffie’s head. He screamed back in horror. Blood was on his hands, and underneath him was a body.
OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT AAAAAAA
I recognize those shoes, that dirty blond hair, that sweatshirt, Raffie realized. Screams erupted around him.
And Raffie suddenly knew who it was: Derek McCollins.
0.0
The cries of grief came a moment later. There was no mistake who it was. Wendy felt as if she was hit by a bus, blown up by a fighter jet, drowned in the ocean, ripped to bloody shreds, and left to suffer still in life. Her husband broke down as if he were diced into a million pieces, as if Set had appeared and Brent had become Osiris, to be damned. Mother and father leant against one another, collapsing with grief. Hennessy looked away and tried to prevent himself from wailing with tears, sobbing and falling and losing control and consciousness of existence.
0.0
“No-o-o!!! My baby boy!” Wendy cried out, sobbing and begrieved and mentally and emotionally broken.
And Raffie, with horror, took up the lamp and held it up to the darkness. On a tree a few meters away were bloody claw marks.
AAAAAAA oh my god that was FANTASTIC!!!!!!! I totally wasn't expecting that. This has to be my favorite chapter so far. Wow. Keep writing, please!
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Hey Amadeus!
Shady back with another review to rescue another of your chapters from the Green Room! You are already familiar with my reviewing style at this point, so let's jump straight on in to the review.
So, I can't remember if you're one of the people who has been the recipient of my soapbox before, but I'm going to give it again, just in case.
If you tried something like "She was frying something on the stove that smelled savory and intrigued him" that would get rid of the other something. I know that's not the World's Greatest Example or anything like that, but something along those lines, you know?
Why is he upset about it? Does he /want/ people repeating over and over the brutal murder of his family?
Is he a new officer? If not, this seems like it's really really strange characterization for a police officer. I mean, his job is literally dealing with criminals. So he's no doubt seen really unsavory characters -- people who are FAR more intimidating than an angry housewife. Why in the world would he be afraid of her?
1) Is he a literal fortress? Because literal means that that is what he actually is. But he's a human, not a medieval fortress, which means that he is not "literally" a fortress. "Ashwin seemed like a towering..." would make more sense.
2) Also, I'm really not sure what's up with Richardson's timidness and fear, but I'm not loving it. He's an officer. Act like it.
This feels really out of place. He's all serious about finding Derek. Then all of a sudden he shifts to being really casual asking about the girlfriend. And then he gets super serious again. It just... feels off.
This feels like a wee bit too heavy-handed in presumably foreshadowing. I might be wrong but now that I read this I kind of expect Derek to be found dead somewhere.
This sentence is a bit rambling. And I see a couple sentences later that this is setting you up for that cool sentence. But this is a bit hard to follow with how it's written with the two "of"s adding in more layers of complexity.
Oooh, snap!
~ ~ ~
Wow! This is probably my favorite chapter so far. You did an excellent job of capturing the tension throughout and all the emotions and drama being flung around -- and you ended on such an intense cliffhanger too. Excellent job!
I know you're probably getting tired of me saying it at this point but this was also too long of a chapter -- but it felt like the shortest one (even though if I remember correctly the previous one was a bit shorter) because of all of the action and tension making me want to read on and motivating me to keep going.
Things are definitely heating up here!
Keep writing!
~Shady
Hi again! My friend eggeggegg should be helping me review one of your other chapters. We're great friends from school.
. But the tying together of latino, poor, and extra-religious is a very common trope. I'm not saying you have to change anything, but just keep that in mind when writing future stories.
My name is Raphael Cortez, he thought. I am from the Cortez family, I have Cortez blood. No matter who I live with, I will always and forever be Cortez. Nothing can make me think otherwise.
Okay, I'm just going to go back to something I said in my first review, the one for chapter three: This is just a little stereotypical. Not in an offensive way or anything, it's like impossible to be offended by this
She had brown, curly hair. Her face was concealed at that moment, but he remembered its features from the night before: an oval face, creased with weariness; blue eyes, rather vague and distant. She didn’t say much that previous night.
You always do such a good job with your descriptions of people. I can really picture her!
“Brent and Derek? They’re probably still sleeping. I was surprised anyone would wake up at this hour.”
But Derek wasn’t…
Oooh... where's Derek? Excellent subtle intrigue.
He saw a nondescript dining table not far off. The placemats were plastic, and had a red plaid design on them which reminded him curiously of roosters and farm life. There was an oblong glass vase in the middle with fake flowers.
This reminds me of every lower-middle class household I've ever been to. You really have a grasp on the imagery of family life!
“Derek might be missing! Get up and get your shoes on, damn it! We don’t want another Yellowwood Grove!”
I love it when people do this in their stories, bring up a past event we don't know about and don't really describe what happens so we have to try and figure it out. I also love it when a similar thing happens in video games. I'm really into sort of dark video games, like Silent Hill or the Resident Evil games. Lately, I've been playing Resident Evil: Code Veronica.
“That’s a story for another moment,” Mother McCollins said.
More mystery! I love it.
“Sure thing. My name’s Hennessy Richardson; you can call me Hans.”
You come up with some amazing names for your characters.
Raffie’s body was wavering like a palm in the tropic wind, like a tiny boat amidst a sea of impenetrable mirk. Ghouls walked the night and fought for a voice in Raffie’s mind; he knew them not real yet believed them real all the same. Fear consumed him, stopped him, kept his body moving through the ink of terror and unknown. He wanted to drown in that ink, be devoured by it, and spat out onto sunny land. He wanted out, wanted out, wanted out. Terror coursed through his body and dulled it to electric response. Blackness hit him and ebbed around him, and the only saving grace was the lighting of a lamp to shine a narrow path. Far they traveled - miles, miles, endless miles, following that solemn, solitary light. A sudden cold wind came through, and the light was extinguished. They were left in a purgatory of coldness and cruelty, of eternal pain and suffering. There was nothing to restore their hope, nothing to show the way. Raffie felt a sudden eerie feeling of omen, a prescient knowledge of darkness - not of night, but of circumstances. He continued on stumbling behind the people he could not see but still heard, and he suddenly tripped over a log. His arms hit the needle-ridden ground, and his long hair hung in his eyes. Wendy heard him trip, and with sightless action went over to him. “Are you all right, Raphael?” she asked. He nodded, and went to support himself up on the surface of the log.
I love the similies in this paragraph. This is just amazingly descriptive.
The log felt eerily soft, and not wood-like. It felt cold yet warm.
oh holy shitake mushrooms. It's the kid isn't it. oh my god oh my god oh my god
“Yes, I’m… all right. Wendy, can you get a light?”
“Sure, Raffie.”
The sketchy lamp Hennessy had was brought over and relit, and shone above Raffie’s head. He screamed back in horror. Blood was on his hands, and underneath him was a body.
OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT AAAAAAA
I recognize those shoes, that dirty blond hair, that sweatshirt, Raffie realized. Screams erupted around him.
And Raffie suddenly knew who it was: Derek McCollins.
0.0
The cries of grief came a moment later. There was no mistake who it was. Wendy felt as if she was hit by a bus, blown up by a fighter jet, drowned in the ocean, ripped to bloody shreds, and left to suffer still in life. Her husband broke down as if he were diced into a million pieces, as if Set had appeared and Brent had become Osiris, to be damned. Mother and father leant against one another, collapsing with grief. Hennessy looked away and tried to prevent himself from wailing with tears, sobbing and falling and losing control and consciousness of existence.
0.0
“No-o-o!!! My baby boy!” Wendy cried out, sobbing and begrieved and mentally and emotionally broken.
And Raffie, with horror, took up the lamp and held it up to the darkness. On a tree a few meters away were bloody claw marks.
AAAAAAA oh my god that was FANTASTIC!!!!!!!
I totally wasn't expecting that. This has to be my favorite chapter so far. Wow. Keep writing, please!