Young Writers Society

Thanks, Lupis and Camille!

I will definitely take your advise into account as I edit.

Just a note for future reviewers: I wrote this a looooong time ago and my style has changed a LOT.

~Azila~

Hey Zills! I promised to review everything in your portfolio, so here goes!

He was expected to make a speech, so when he tapped the side of his glass with his spoon towards the end of the meal, the entire hall fell silent. Though it was a frail strike, the hall had been designed so that any noise made at the staff table, which was where this gentleman was sitting, would carry magnificently through the hall.

The old man, seemingly unaware of the quiet, expectant atmosphere now filling the hall, filled his empty glass partially with water. But rather than taking a sip from the newly filled glass, as one about to make a speech might be inclined to do, he tapped the glass again with his spoon.

He took a tiny sip of the water and tapped again, a slightly higher note resonated beautifully throughout the stone hall.

He took up the water pitcher and filled his glass up to the top and it almost overflowed when he tapped it again.

A faint susurrus of amused murmurs passed through the suspenseful students.

Around and around his finger went and an undulating noise, as of a whistling wind, erupted from the glass.

"when a guest comes to the university, the students expect to hear knowledgeable and insightful words of wisdom, don't let them down.

Hey!

I was going through starring all of your work when I realized I haven't reviewed this yet! *Gasp*

I really like the originality and style of this piece, but it's really interesting to see how much your style has changed (for the better) since writing this. Anyway:


Typos, corrections, and nitpicks first.

He was expected to make a speech, so when he tapped the side of his glass with his spoon towards the end of the meal, the entire hall fell silent. Though it was a frail strike, the hall had been designed so that any noise made at the staff table, which was where this gentleman was sitting, would carry magnificently through the hall. It was an excellent tool for speech-makers and for students who wanted to hear the conversation at the staff table.

The old man, seemingly unaware of the quiet, expectant atmosphere now filling the hall, filled his empty glass partially with water. But rather than taking a sip from the newly filled glass, as one about to make a speech might be inclined to do, he tapped the glass again with his spoon. The note was much lower now. By this time, even the usually most distracted and straying eye was staring fixedly on the old gentleman. His eyes, in turn, were rigid upon his glass. He took a tiny sip of the water and tapped again, a slightly higher note resonated beautifully throughout the stone hall.

Though it was a frail strike, the hall had been designed so that any noise made at the staff table, which was where this gentleman was sitting, would carry magnificently through the hall.

"when a guest comes to the university, the students expect to hear knowledgeable and insightful words of wisdom, don't let them down. You must make a speech!"

Sweet, PM and tell me when you post it, so I can read it, I'm pretty stoked now.

Thanks, skool15 and Pirate Lady!
I actually have written another piece about Professor Z, but I'm going to wait like another day to post it.
Anyway, thanks again guys!
~Azila

Okay, I agree with all the Pirate Lady said, and have some things to add...

Your spacing of the paragraphs. You need to put an empty line in between each of your new paragraphs, and for dialogue as well:

The great Dining Hall was abuzz with conversation; a guest had come to the university from far away. This guest was an old gentleman with white, bushy hair, mustache and eyebrows that seemed to be made of something not quite tangible, like clouds. His face was of a weak grayish hue, the color of an overcast sky. But his eyes were bright and sprightly stars, with the blaze of distant lightning.

He was expected to make a speech, so when he tapped the side of his glass with his spoon towards the end of the meal, the entire hall fell silent. Though it was a frail strike, the hall had been designed so that any noise made at the staff table, which was where this gentleman was sitting, would carry magnificently through the hall. It was an excellent tool for speech-makers and for students who wanted to hear the conversation at the staff table.

The old man, seemingly unaware of the quiet, expectant atmosphere now filling the hall, filled his empty glass partially with water. But rather than taking a sip from the newly filled glass, as one about to make a speech might be inclined to do, he tapped the glass again with his spoon. The note was much lower now. By this time, even the usually most distracted and straying eye was staring fixedly on the old gentleman. His eyes, in turn, were rigid upon his glass. He took a tiny sip of the water and tapped again, a slightly higher note resonated beautifully throughout the stone hall.

He took up the water pitcher and filled his glass up to the top and it almost overflowed when he tapped it again. The sound, barely clear enough to call a note, was a faint 'tink' that, despite the hall's acoustics, was barely audible. This feeble sound did not please the gentleman, so he took a big gulp of the water and tapped again. The sound this time was satisfactory and he picked up his fork with the other hand than the one that carried his spoon. The fork made a slightly different sound than the spoon and he seemed to take delight in the subtle variety.

He picked up his knife in the same hand as his fork and tapped it against the glass. Again, he was pleased at the slightly different tone. He began to tap in a rhythmic way, bouncing his cloudy head in time with the music. A faint susurrus of amused murmurs passed through the suspenseful students.

The staff beside the old gentleman tittered and exchanged vexed glances. Finally, they decided that it had gone too far. A woman sitting next to the gentleman leaned over and touched his sleeve, whispering tentatively, "Excuse me, Professor Zephyros, but you have their attention. You may proceed with your speech."

Professor Zephyros, without looking up from his instrument, set down his silverware. The woman who had whispered to him settled back into her seat, satisfied. But the old gentleman did not proceed with his speech as expected; rather, he dipped one long, boney finger into the water and started rubbing it around the rim of the glass. Around and around his finger went and an undulating noise, as of a whistling wind, erupted from the glass.

The staff frowned at each other and the woman bent very close to the gentleman's ear and said, quite stiffly, "Professor Zephyros, please stop! We must give a speech."

For a moment, Zephyros, startled, looked into the woman's dark, hard eyes and his eyebrows flew up to merge with his hair. Then, his misty mustache twitched and his eyebrows drifted back to their usual position. He bent over his glass and said faintly, "You may make the speech, then."

"B-but sir," the woman pleaded, furrowing her eyebrows, "when a guest comes to the university, the students expect to hear knowledgeable and insightful words of wisdom, don't let them down. You must make a speech!"

But the man was again bent studiously over the glass. He took a sip and moistened his finger to play again. He politely took the woman's glass and began to tap it with his silverware, while his other hand was making its melodious rounds on his glass.

And that is how he acquired his current reputation.

Ah, love the ending!

a guest had come to the university from far away

an old gentleman

This guest was an old gentleman with white, bushy hair, mustache and eyebrows that seemed to be made of something not quite tangible, like clouds. His face was of a weak grayish hue, the color of an overcast sky. But his eyes were bright and sprightly stars, with the blaze of distant lightning.

entire hall fell silent. Though it was a

with water. But rather

students. The staff beside

seat, satisfied. But the old