Note - this chapter has recently been edited
Here is a book i have been writing. I never posted it anywhere before but i am desperate for some honest comments. All my friends can tell me is "It's good" and "I really liked it", so i guessed it would be wise to post it somewhere where people can tell me what they REALLY think of it. Be gentle though, i'm quite pround of the story, even though the first chapter's not that good. Tell me if you want to see more!!
The First Bite
Chapter 1
Skye Phantom was awake but he didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to move. His bed was too comfortable for him to even think of moving. The sun had risen outside and the robins and thrushes had begun their morning choir practise. Skye wondered vaguely if they were trying to lull him back to sleep or to startle him awake.
He opened his eyes eventually and immediately shut them again. Of course! Today was the day. The mage from Roma would be coming to their village. Their own mage had died when a tree had fallen on top of him. A spindly old man, he probably wouldn’t have lasted all that long anyway. Not that it made Skye feel any better. The mage had been kind and wise. Skye had hoped to become his apprentice one day. Now he would have to get to know a completely different magic-user all over again.
Skye was the favourite to become the new warrior of the village. A hunter, fighter and protector of the community. What could be further from his dreams? Skye wanted desperately to learn the ways of magic, to exorcise ghosts and cure illnesses and help the crops grow. He wanted to perform the rituals and mutter curses against rival villages. Not that he had had any formal training, but he could always dream, couldn’t he?
At this thought, he immediately got out of bed and threw on a dark tunic, some tattered trousers and some boots. Sprinting out of his tent he realised the morning meal had begun. He hastily took his seat at the long table. The whole village was so small that they could gather here in the mornings and all have breakfast together. In fact, it was considered a great offence not to attend.
The smell of eggs and cooking meat came heavy in the air. Sausages and sizzling bacon spat over open fires beside a massive table stretching over several yards. Jelly-like scrambled thrush eggs wobbled in wooden bowls. A couple of the villages looked up, stern and disapproving. “Slept in…” he shrugged. They returned to their meals, shaking their heads and smiling. Nobody could really tell Skye off, they would leave that to Pa.
Skye dragged a bowl of chicken eggs towards him, and at the same time, succeeded in knocking over a jug of water.
“Skye, careful!” hissed Scribe. Skye’s older brother began to mop up the mess. Skye mumbled a distracted apology. Scribe was the oldest Phantom brother, tall and strong, he would have been suited better to become a warrior, if it weren’t for the terrible scar that marred his right eye. There had been a snowball fight the winter before last, and a boy had thrown a huge white blot, which hit Scribe’s eye. Of course no one knew there was a stone lodged in the snowball until it was much to late. The old mage had tried his best but Scribe was now permanently scarred and blinded in one eye. He could never aim a bow properly or fight well half blind. Some of the little kids still made fun of him, taking advantage of his lack of depth perception.
“When is the mage arriving, Kitty?” He asked anyone in particular. His young sister shrugged, but she was saved from answering by the arrival of Finn, another brother, even younger than Kitty. The two Youngest Phantoms were almost identical, though there was more that a year between them. Both had tawny blonde hair and delicate features. Skye and Scribe were the only ones left who really remembered Ma. She had dies just after Finn came, of a fever. Kitty had barely turned one year
“Noon, about four or five hours from now, actually. I’ve been practising my drumming for ages!”
There was to a celebration for the mage when he arrived. There would be music and dancing and a great banquete. Finn had been given the honour of playing for the mage. Kitty would sing and Scribe would play his violin and Skye would strum out the tune on his guitar. They had made an act of it. The villages had made them celebrities actually.
The Phantoms loved music. The lived for it, breathed it, made it. It ruled their lives for the most part. Skye, himself could play over ten or twelve instruments and play them well. He was learning yet another and hoped to master it come next spring.
“Yes, my ears aches for all the practice you’ve indured!” laughed Kitty. Skye managed to turn his snigger into a cough.
“Oh, be quiet, Skye,” snapped Finn, but he could tell he was really enjoying the attention.
Before Skye could finish, the breakfast had been cleared away and some men were already putting up tents for the party. One of them was Skye’s Pa. It was Kitty and Finn who took after him. The only difference between Pa and Finn was the painfully obvious streaks of silvery white through the brown-blonde hair. He smiled at his son but his distraction made him slip on the muddy grass. Skye suppressed a giggle and hurried away before Pa could call him back.
Skye had gathered with the other villagers on the edge of the road, waiting for the mage to arrive. He had pictured a tall dark figure with a hood and cloak and a great staff which would be used for more than just a walking stick. Or maybe a big, bulky man with broad shoulders and a hard face, all cold eyes and thin lips. Or a stooping wanderer wrapped in a shawl. He didn’t expect what he actually saw.
A woman. The most beautiful creature Skye had ever seen. She was tall and lithe, with slow, deliberate movements. Her head was held high and proud. Her eyes stared straight ahead, ice blue and incredibly cold. Pale, cloud soft skin and perfect lips, full and rose coloured. Her hair fell like rippling darkness over pale pointed ears. An elf, then, thought Skye
Their leader, Sioban stepped forward to greet the mage. He bowed to her and kissed her hand. Skye couldn’t help catching the swift look of disgust on her face, but it was gone before he could register it and he soon doubted whether he had seen it at all.
Sioban was a strict and sometimes cruel leader. Effective and respected, but he paled in comparison to this strong and authoritative young woman.
She smiled at the crowd, a fake, almost wooden smile. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was like silk and only lightly accented. “I am pleased with the efforts you have made to make me welcome. Thank you. But, please, let the celebrations begin immediately. For I am weary after such a long journey and I could do with a bit of fun.” She grinned a shark’s grin.
There was a great rush as everyone took his or her places. The party was being held on a field. Skye took up his guitar and tapped out the rhythm with his boot. Finn pounded out a steady beat with the drums and Scribe’s violin sang out beautifully. Kitty sang, the words falling from her lips like liquid magic.
“He came upon the Eve of Saints when saints did ride abroad
He cut a swathe through night’s dark taint and pierced the hallowed fog
Upon the edge of land and sky, the ridge of dreams and thought
In windows rent of truth ‘pon lie in realms that bards have sought
He came upon the Cliffs of Tor and glimpsed a maiden fair
And lost his heart like knights of lore to she of fire hair”
It wasn’t long before people began to dance, twirling and pirouetting gracefully, showing off their fancy dress. Skye smiled to himself, noting how fluent his lyrics sounded. His Pa was the village storyteller, and a very good one. It was he who had told them the Passion of the Thorns on a dark and stormy night and they had put it to music immediately that night.
“ “I swear to you, I will be true,” he whispered to the maid.
“The sun and sky I’ll give to you and never shall I fade.”
She laughed at him. She turned away. “You think I seek fool things?
What use have I for moon and waves. Pray, give your words true ring!
Make this white rose deepest red, like blood on which you’ve sworn
For then I’ll know ye true, all said, by passion bled of thorns.”
All this she bade with solemn eye and pressed into his hand
A blossom white as winters sky that burned him like a brand.
“You ask what is not possible!” Sheer anguish in his cry!
But only silence heard his soul. Alone, he stood and sighed
He clutched the rose and rode away to where he whence had tread
To seek amongst the world a way to turn a white rose red”
He shifted key subtly and his sibling followed him, twisting and weaving the music. Kitty danced and swayed to the music like the ghost from the story. Sky grinned. Maybe they could paint her face white and her eyes dark for the next time, so she would really look like a ghost.
He searched through far and wide and sought the sages of the lands
He chased the heroes who had fought great odds and fierce demands
He asked the poets of their years of trek ‘cross fairy courts
Through lands that most sane men would fear but still it was for naught
To witches, warlocks, did he tell his woeful tale and quest
He prayed to God and then to Hell – Neither came at his behest
At last defeat came to his eye. To Tor he now returned
The rose clutched in one hand and pride the shield no to be spurned
“I bring your rose!” he cried to cliffs. She came like mist from dawn
She took one glance. “You bring my gift but leave my task undone.”
She turned away despite all pleas, his anger, rage and loss
And vanished back unto the seas of mist and sky and moss
He mourned and sighed. His fingers closed upon the thorny bud
They pierced his skin and soaked the rose with perfect silken blood
“Come back,” he breathed. “Your task fulfilled. Your knights now seeking you
She came back, summoned by his will and passion burned anew
In trembling hands, the crimson rose, a tribute to desire
She smiled and tucked it to her clothes, that blazing brand of fire.
The song ended and the siblings stood and took a bows for the dancers who were applauding them heartily. Skye decided they could take a break for a while before the next song. It was Pa’s turn to frighten the little children with tales of far away lands and dragon and elves. Skye had heard all these stories and fairy tales a thousand times over, but he was tempted to sit down with the other villagers and listen with his mouth half-open like he would when he was a child.
He went to the long table. It had been reset with a million dishes. Roast venison and beef and an entire pig squatted in the middle, surrounded by fruits of every colour and grass green salad. The women must have been working their hands to the bone to prepare so much food.
He halved an orange cleanly with a knife and squeezed the juice into a cup. A girl came up to him. She was pretty with black hair and soft brown eyes
“Oh, Hello, Sara.”
“Hello,” she blushed. Skye smiled at her but that only seemed to make her more nervous, twisted her hands in front of her. “Do you mind… if I… err… sit here…?”
“Sure,” he said kindly. He couldn’t think for the life of him why she was so nervous. She had been like this for a while now. As the bakers daughter, she often helped kneed the doe and sell the soft brown bread. Every time Skye had gone to the shop with his silver for groceries, she’d blush and begin silly conversations, causing him to linger a little longer. And when he actually left, he would always find an extra wheat cake in his sack, free of charge.
“I… I liked your playing…” she stuttered hurriedly “But if you don’t mind me saying so, I think you’re better with the drums than Finn.”
“Yes,” he said offhandedly. “But I always play the drums. I thought Finn should have a chance, especially since he has been practising so hard.”
“Skye!” Pa called from the platform. “Come. Bring your guitar and hurry.”
Skye made a face. He looked at his aching fingers, red raw from the wire strings. “Can’t you do it Pa?” he shouted. “I want to rest…”
Pa frowned, but let it go. He must have seen the girl by Skye’s side, because he nodded and took up Skye’s guitar, balancing it on his knee. He was almost as good as Skye, he could play the song alright.
By his side, Sara seemed to get more nervous by the second. Her face was rather red by now. “Can I…” She stammered, stopped and started again in a rush, as if it would be less embarrassing if she got it out quickly. “Do want to dance?”
Oh, so that was it, thought Skye, smiling again. A lot of girls wanted to dance with him at parties. He was just the right age to get married in their village, and many of the young sweet girls made a habit of catching his eye. People said he was handsome, that he looked like his mother. He had to take their word for it. His mother was dead. His father had a broad, grinning, whiskered face like a wolf. Skye, they said, had a softer, bright eyed face.
“Sure,” he said and she gasped with pleasure.
The music began again and Skye was immediately taken under the spell. He moved effortlessly into the dance. He missed no steps. The girl was also good. Better than he had thought, anyway. But halfway through the song, when Skye was thick with the melody, he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. The mage was standing behind him, smiling her shark’s smile.
Skye blushed. The mage spoke. “May I cut in?”
Sara looked outraged but the mage stared her down like a haughty cat looking at a mouse. She backed away and let her take Skye’s hand. They began to dance. She was much better that Sara. She matched his moves, step for step. Suddenly he realised that she seemed to be competing with him. But dancing isn’t about competition, he thought. It’s about working together.
“So, boy,” she hissed. “Tell me your name.”
“I am Skye Phantom, Mage. What do I call you?”
“Aleera Web. How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” he answered reluctantly. Such a daring question so early in the conversation. He didn’t know what to think. “I’ll be seventeen next month.”
She was strong. Her grip on his hand and shoulder were like stone. No, harder even than that. More like iron. She seemed to be leading more than he was. She was young too. Couldn’t have been more than twenty years.
She smiled at him, treating him to her perfectly white teeth that had been filed to a point. He looked away. Her stare was like ice, cold and unrelenting. She made him feel like he was doing something wrong. Finally, the song ended and she let him go. He felt sad and relieved at the same time. But that wasn’t the end. “Meet me at my new home in five minutes,” she whispered very close to her ear. Then she hurried away, weaving through the applauding dancers.
Skye stared after. She was already walking away from the celebrations. Nobody seemed to notice her leaving. And even if they did, it didn’t look as though they were going to stop her. Intrigued, Skye sat down at the platform and counted the seconds in his head. What was going on? Why did she want to meet him? Was she going to tell him something? Or ask him something?
“What did the mage say to you?” Scribe was behind him, his scarred face frowning.
“Nothing, she just…”
“Whatever she said, don’t do it!” Scribe interrupted. “No, really,” he added as Skye scoffed. “I smell trouble on her…”
“Listen,” said Skye loudly enough for anyone else near him to hear. “I am tired. I may go to bed soon…”
Scribe scowled. “Don’t take any detours, Skye. And don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
He had lost count but got up and followed her anyway, away from the field and down the houses below. It was easy to find her house. Skye had been down to it many times when the old mage used to own it. She was waiting for him at the doorway. Her beauty struck him again. Her long, sleek black hair, her glacial blue eyes. His heart beat quickened. He began to sweat. No being on this world could be that heart-stoppingly beautiful. Nothing living anyway.
He suddenly had second thoughts. This woman wasn’t human. How could he trust her? He gestured feebly to the right, the direction of his own house, intending to pass her by, but she spoke a couple of words in a strange language and he froze.
She beckoned to him with one finger and he moved towards her like he was under a spell. He probably was, he didn’t know. He didn’t really care. She touched his cheek, making his skin tingle. Her fingers were so cold. They were very close now, he was standing right in front of her. Warning bells flew off the handle and shivers danced up and down his spine. He really shouldn’t have followed, should’ve gone a different way. Scribe had been right. He tried to take a step back, out of her reach but he couldn’t get his legs to work.
“Mage Web,” he whispered, his voice weak and fluttery. “What…?
“Hush,” she commanded and pulled him forward with unimaginable strength, their lips colliding in a hard, sour kiss. It was more like pain than pleasure. He felt like his very soul was being sucked out through his mouth. His eyes widened and he pulled away, gasping for air. But she drew him back, and he surrendered to the spell.
He knew this was wrong, knew it could only end badly, but he wasn’t himself. He felt like he was outside himself, watching as Aleera rubbed his chest and back and stomach forcefully, her kisses coming hard and fast.
He soon lost himself to her. Lost control. He thrust his head backwards and she kissed his neck, sucking on the skin. His eyes widened as he felt a stab of pain on his neck that stung and jarred his spine. He felt a rushing sensation like adrenaline, but instead of making him stronger, it weakened him. He cried out in pain. It filled his head and blinded him. His mind was numb with pain.
Yet a strange part of him, an animal instinct begged her not to stop, to keep draining his energy so he would be soulless like her. Nothing living could be that beautiful. Her hands were everywhere and he groaned in sick pleasure. When the pain reached a peak, his knees gave way and a dark veil, blurring the world around him, numbing the pain and covering his vision. He was weakening, possibly dying and it felt amazing!
She dropped him without warning and he landed on the cold hard earth feeling a burst of pain in his ankle, but no longer aware of it. He was half awake now, cold and hovering between dreams and reality. She fell on him, her hands trapping his arms but he had no strength left to fight anyway. He floating in a pool of pain and terrible ecstasy, unseeing uncaring, merely being.
His last thought before he passed out was, so this is what it is like to die…
Thanks for bothering to read this! Yes, i wrote the poem myself. If you want to comment on that, please do! Please leave comments (good or bad), they're most welcome!! AS i have said, there is more to come, so if any of you want to see the next chapter, please say and i'll post it if only to please you.
Thank you
Yours
BlackDove
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
I like it, I love it, I want some more of it. This was a great storry. I beleive I am officially addicted to this plot. I disagree with whoever said the beginning was confusing. I can actually relate, not wnting to do nothing, however then realizing that somthing exciting is planned for the day. I think there should be more details. ASk these questions
What does the house look like?
Is the gient table right outside his door or a few minutes walk?
THere can not be too meny question you ask yourself.
Please pm me when you post more, and i will be honnored to read it.
*bows*
Excellent! I know other people said you should explain what a mage was at some point at the beginning, and that would be a good idea, but I got the general gist. However, one thing is that I'd like a physical description of Skye, or perhaps you could work some physical details about him into the story somewhere.
I was immediately drawn into your story, especially because of the details. At the breakfast scene the reader is thrown into the life of Skye and his family. It was wonderful, I really liked that.
The poem is beautiful! You have a talent for epic poetry. =D
All in all, this is a wonderful story, one i would love to read more of. Excellent work!
Wow, that last part was truely amazing. I was scared and like wow. This is so cool. I only saw typos and afew missed commas. The content is ver good. I love it. I guess she's not really an elf then?
And that song was cool too. Very creative.
... eh? He addresses his sister, but (didn't?) ask anyone in particular?
Also, the name Kitty is one of the scene breakers in the story. It doesn't fit in the rest of the setting. The guitar, and to some extent, the violin also take away from the setting you've established. If you're going for more of an elfpunk feel, give us more information about how their 'verse works. (On the subject of instruments: he can play ten or twelve? I think that's a little extreme.)
I only have time to get to the first break in the story. I'll come and continue reading when I have time after school.
*
edit: (wow, this is a lot later than I said it would be!)
I would either add this to the last sentence in the previous paragraph, or make it a complete sentence on it's own.
Just a suggestion, from a personal point of view: unless the song tells a story that the reader will need to know or foreshadows what's going to happen, don't include it. (I, personally, never read the poems in the middle of stories unless they're fairly short or I've read the book before and am now re-reading for more detial.)
"Treated him to..." is really awkward here, I think. It just doesn't feel right. It sounds almost voyeuristic, but he isn't seeing something that he shouldn't have, is he? (Also, knowing her teeth are filed to a point and being told not to by a girl who likes him and therefore probably has his best interests in mind, why does he still follow her?)
I would say "used to live there" instead of "used to own it." If all of the mages live in that house, with a new one moving in when the old one retires/dies, it reminds me of how some village priests would have a house that the town (or church organization) owned, but they lived in.
Anyway, I think it's a pretty good start. Vampire stories can be difficult to make interesting, since there are just so many of them, but your writing style/voice is good, so I think this one has a shot.
Hey again! I don't think I'm going to be able to get to finishing this critique for a while yet, I'm afraid. I have no motivation to critique right now (which makes me do lazy crits, and they're just no good ^^) so I'm going to post what I've done so far for you to be going on with.
He was learning yet another and hoped to master it come next spring.
First off, I have to say that I disagree about the length that someone said up there. This comes out as 3500 words ish, which is just fine for a chapter length. Personally I aim for somewhere between 3000 and 5000 words as a nice comfortable length to break up the story, and give the reader handy places to put the book down so they can get some sleep.
I'm also shocked, stunned, and horrified that a bunch of people in a fantasy area have no idea what a mage is. I think they should be ashamed of themselves. Not that I *ahem* use the term mage or anything. *Whistles innocently*
Ok, now I've said that I'll actually read it. ^^
The First Bite
Chapter 1
Skye Phantom was awake but he didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to move. His bed was too comfortable for him to even think of moving. The sun had risen outside and the robins and thrushes had begun their morning choir practise. Skye wondered vaguely if they were trying to lull him back to sleep or to startle him awake. Nice beginning, I think, although starting with a character waking up is very overused. Personally I'd try to find a different, more immediately action-y way to start, but this is fine for now.
He opened his eyes eventually and immediately shut them again. Of course! Today was the day. The mage from Roma would be coming to their village. Their own mage had died when a tree had fallen on top of him. eek, poor dude A spindly old man, he probably wouldn’t have lasted all that long anyway. Not that it made Skye feel any better. The mage had been kind and wise. Skye had hoped to become his apprentice one day. Now he would have to get to know a completely different magic-user all over again. Quickly introduced--I like how we know just enough about the MC already.
Skye was the favourite to become the new warrior of the village. A hunter, fighter and protector of the community. What could be further from his dreams? Skye wanted desperately to learn the ways of magic, to exorcise ghosts and cure illnesses and help the crops grow. He wanted to perform the rituals and mutter curses against rival villages. Not that he had had any formal training, but he could always dream, couldn’t he? I'd make this 'He had no formal training, but he could always dream, couldn't he?
I'm quite liking this premise. I was a bit nervous when you started saying how he was a warrior and a hunter etc, and I thought he might end up being a bit cliché, but frustrated hopes are always interesting. I can't recall reading anything with this idea before. Yay!
At this thought, he immediately got out of bed and threw on a dark tunic and some boots.Maybe on top of the trousers I hope he's already wearing? :p Sprinting out of his tent he realised the morning meal had begun. The tent took me by surprise. Maybe you could mention the light coming through the walls or something while he's still in bed? He hastily took his seat at the long table.Where's the table come from? It is outside? It's a cool idea having this compulsory attendance at a village breakfast, but I wanna know where! The whole village was so small that they could gather here in the mornings and all have breakfast together. In fact, it was considered a great offence not to attend.
The smell of eggs and cooking meat came heavy in the air.Again, from where? Sausages and sizzling bacon spat over open firesOh right. I'm too impatient.^^ beside a massive table stretching for several yards. Jelly-like scrambled thrush eggs wobbled in wooden bowls. A couple of the villagesvillagers looked up, stern and disapproving.New para “Slept in…” Capital H->he shrugged. They returned to their meals, shaking their heads and smiling. No bodyOne word could really tell Skye off, they would leave that to Pa.
Skye dragged a bowl of chicken eggs towards him, and at the same time, succeeded in knocking over a jug of water. Typical ...
“Skye, careful!” hissed Scribe. Skye’s older brother began to mop up the mess. Skye mumbled a distracted apology. Scribe was the oldest Phantom brother, tall and strong, he would have been suited better to become a warrior, if it weren’t for the terrible scar that marred his right eye. There had been a snowball fight the winter before last, and a boy had thrown a huge white blot, which hit Scribe’s eye. Of course no one knew there was a stone lodged in the snowball until it was much too late. The old mage had tried his best but Scribe was now permanently scarred and blinded in one eye. He could never aim anda? bow properly or fight well half blind. Some of the little kids still made fun of him, taking advantage of his lack of depth perception. That's mean! As for this paragraph, I like the description, but maybe you could present it as Skye's thoughts, which would make it a little more dynamic and less like you're talking straight at the audience.
“When is the mage arriving, Kitty?” Little h->He asked anyone in particular.He was asking Kitty, so that statement it wrong ... maybe reword it as 'he asked his little sister. Kitty shrugged ... His young sister shrugged, but she was saved from answering by the arrival of Finn, another brother, even younger than Kitty. The two Youngest Phantoms were almost identical, though there was more that a year between them. Both had tawny blonde hair and delicate features. Skye and Scribe were the only ones left who really remembered Ma. She had diesdied just after Finn came, of a fever. Kitty had barely turned one yearthere's a missing stop needed here
“Noon, about four or five hours from now, actually. I’ve been practising my drumming for ages!” I think you could do with adding 'Finn said' here, because there are a few sentences between Finn's arrival and the speech.
There was to be a celebration for the mage when he arrived. There would be music and dancing and a great banquetebanquet. Finn had been given the honour of playing for the mage.Playing what instrument? Kitty would sing and Scribe would play his violin andI'd replace with 'while', so there are less 'ands' Skye would strum out the tune on his guitar. They had made an act of it. The villages had made them celebrities actually. That's a little informal ... I'd go with something like 'They had made an act of it; the villagers almost thought of them as celebrities'
The Phantoms loved music. The lived for it, breathed it, made it. It ruled their lives for the most part. Skye, himselfI'd cut the 'himself as it's a bit extraneous could play over ten or twelve instruments and play them well. Hmm ... I'm wondering how a village can get hold of ten or twelve instruments, and in fact, whether there were that many readily available to play in the sort of time period with banquets. If I were you, I'd look it up. There were some pretty weird instruments back then.
“Yes, my ears achesJust 'ache' for all the practice you’ve induredthe grammar's a bit wrong in this sentence .. maybe 'My ears ache from all the practices I've endured!!” laughed Kitty. Skye managed to turn his snigger into a cough. Why's SKYE sniggering? She's poking fun at him, isn't he?
“Oh, be quiet, Skye,” snapped Finn, but he could tell he was really enjoying the attention. Who was? I'm a tad confused by this exchange, so it could probably do with being cleared up a bit ...
Before Skye could finish, the breakfast had been cleared away and some men were already putting up tents for the party. One of them was Skye’s Pa. It was Kitty and Finn who took after himmaybe add 'not Skye and Scribe. The only difference between Pa and Finn was the painfully obvious streaks of silvery white through the brown-blonde hair. He smiled at his son but his distraction made him slip on the muddy grass. Skye suppressed a giggle and hurried away before Pa could call him back.
Nice family atmosphere you have going here! Also, I know there's a fair amount of bold text here, but it's only minor things. I'm not having to force myself to read on at all, so good job.
Skye had gathered with the other villagers on the edge of the road, waiting for the mage to arrive. He had pictured a tall dark figure with a hood and cloak and a great staff which would be used for more than just a walking stick. Or maybe a big, bulky man with broad shoulders and a hard face, all cold eyes and thin lips. Or a stooping wanderer wrapped in a shawl. He didn’t expect what he actually saw.
A woman. The most beautiful creature Skye had ever seen. She was[b]I'd cut 'she was', but it's a personal preference. tall and lithe, with slow, deliberate movements. Her head was held high and proud. Her eyes stared straight ahead, ice blue and incredibly cold. Pale, cloud-soft skin and perfect lips, full and rose coloured.Hmm .. this sentence sounds a bit awkward to me, but I can't quite place why ... Her hair fell like rippling darkness over pale pointed ears. An elf, then, thought Skye Missing full stop.
Their leader,This is a bit unclear as to WHOSE leader you're talking about. I also think 'leader' is a bit of an odd way of describing the head of a village, but it's up to you. Sioban stepped forward to greet the mage. He bowed to her and kissed her hand. Skye couldn’t help catching the swift look of disgust on her face, but it was gone before he could register it and he soon doubted whether he had seen it at all.
Sioban was a strict and sometimes cruel leader. Effective and respected, but he paled in comparison to this strong and authoritative young woman. I don't get why this is a separate paragraph of its own, and it seems vaguely pushed in. At this point the woman just has a strong and authoritative demeanour--she could just be a stuck-up wimp. If I were you, I'd leave this assessment of her until later.
Just letting you know that I'm halfway through critting this. I haven't forgotten about you!
Yet a strange part of him, an animal instinct begged her not to stop, to keep draining his energy so he would be soulless like her.
--
Is soulless spelt like that?
Anyways, when I first read it, I was a bit confused. The skype guy seems to play little importance to the story. Also, the mage. Why the hell is the mage there?
Was she a princess? A mercenary? A high summoner?
Also, I didn't really feel a bond with your characters. When I first read a story, I should be able to feel a connection with them.
However, it seems to be a good start.
I'm not a fan of main stream fantasy though. I'm more into high fantasy (stuff like final fantasy) where the setting, politics and how the creatures/humans look are different. Maybe you should try that because it gets boring reading about medievil fantasy and mages, elves etc etc.
Keep writing, I'll check this later.
Nice. Good. I knew as soon as you described the Mage that she was most likely a vampire. The wayshe spoke and looked and danced with Skyeproved this. Then of course theobviou thing she did last.
This was very good overall. It started off a little shaky but improved and really drew me in towards the end. The only think it lacked was a little discription. We as readers have very little idea of the setting, other than that the character lives in a small village, and we don't know at all what a mage is. But aside from that and a few minor spelling errors I really enjoyed reading this, and look foward to reading more. Keep writing!
I know everyone else is asking this but what does the Mage do?
I really like the story so far and can't wait to here some more but I think you mgiht need just a little bit more detail.
hi! I think this story has great potential.
I'd love to hear more. one question though um... what's a mage??
The biggest issue that I noticed with it was that you were telling the reader not showing them what was happening. It makes it much harder for the reader to form a picture in their head or to be absorbed by the story when it is written like this.
There were a few spelling errors that I'm sure you'll pick up if you read through it.
Another thing I thought was needed was more characterization. As a reader, I need to know as much as possible about the characters to really connect to them.
I liked your ending. It was suspenseful and definitely left me wanting more.
I like it, and want to read more. But remember to keep sentences short when dealing with action-filled scenes.
And chapters can be any length in my opinion lol.
I want to know more about the background before the bite... My own story started straight into action I know, but it was supposed to.
This story seems to beg for description of the setting, and the way of life.
60 pages for a chapter?
If it takes 60 pages to write a scene, then there isn't anything simple about it.
Most books have ten pages or twenty pages to a chapter, but I agree with Hunter, write your chapters as long or as short as you want.
The beginning is a little confusing. You tell us this guy is named Skye Phantom and that he doesn't want to do anything. Then, from out of the blue, he springs up, and runs down see to the preparations for the arrival of the new mage.
This doesn't feel right. We really don't know that much about the character, so abrupt changes often confuse us. To you, it makes sense. To us, it looks like he has ADHD.
I wish things had went a little slower, there is a definite culture, but I didn't really get the flavor of it, so I'm certain I'm missing some important details.
Let me start with some questions.
As I'm reading this, here's what I was thinking:
Mage? What mage? they have a mage? why?
A tunic and boots, but no pants? Is he mad?
He's late? Why didn't the others take notice, if it is a great offense to be late?
If Skye caught the look of disgust, it registered--maybe change your wording a tad?
Plastic generally doesn't exist in fantasy....I'd use a different word.
Ok, now that that is done.
Your dialogue sounds far too modern. Something about it just sounds very....nineties.
You use the word Mage a lot, but you neve explain what a mage does, exactly.
To be short and simple, since my long review got *ahem* deleted, DETAIL. Explain EVERYTHING, and be detailed about it. Your flow is excellent, you have good sentence structure and grmmar, and you have good word choice; now work on making it all worthwhile.
In addition--
I disagree. Chapters should be any length that fits for the scene, not a set number of pages. Elves are very generic, these days--they really don't need describing, but it couldn't hurt, especially if something about them stands out to this culture.
Hiya Black Dove,
this was good, yep a little on the light side for detail but remember the quote "simplicity in detail" so make it a little more detailed and also a chapter reallly should be 25 - 35 or 35 - 60 pages long. also if there are elves in this fantasy land give a discription of where they are and if not dont use the simily and metaphor of "an elf" he thought. k? glad i could help ill be working on a guide for better wring through quotes so i hope you do well my friend, and have fun writing it.
They were a few typos like
It should be grip not grin.
I'm not a huge fan of fantasy, but i really like your story so far. I liked how you weaved in the necessary information without putting me to sleep. Please post more of this story.
#Queen of the Pirates#