z

Young Writers Society



Crimson and Ivory

by Caligula's Launderette


this is a story I started for a friend, I don't know if I'm going to continue it but I would like some feedback.

Crimson and Ivory

for Lady 'S'

Chapter One: The Artist meets the Goth

How we treasure (and admire) the people who acknowledge us!

- Julie Morgenstern

The pen scratched along cradled by expert fingers, the words upon the page illuminating

the ideals of the mind at work. Furiously the fingers dug, reaching into the crevices of the

malleable mind, to find the right word, for the right feeling and when it did, the pale fingers were

rewarded with reflection before delving back in.

She was a studious girl, one who sat away from others to entreat her imaginary friends

rather than her fellow students. Quiet, she was too, unless you got her on a subject she was

interested in such as the book she was reading or the last play she was in, and then she’d carry on

like you were her best friend in a comforting sort of way. In all reality, the girl in the corner was

an artist, not so much a Van Gogh or a Rembrant, but more of the line of a Shelley or Keats,

romantic, idealistic, full of prose and fantasied ideas. But she kept those traits inside, and cut

herself off to all but close friends.

In a common gesture, she pushed dark strands of hair back behind an ear and continued on

her masterpiece.

From across the room, blue eyes were drawn to The Artist, her pale figure, and the

seemingly dorky clothes that adorned her. The owner of the blue eyes, dearly hoped she would

not be caught, but stared anyway. She watched closely as the fingers moved across the virgin

paper, leaving dark footprints as it went.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was talking. Just talking pure nonsense, lying with her back against her bed, staring at

her blue ceiling. Her thoughts swerving towards the person she least likely thought they would --

the Goth girl from her Psych class. She was so utterly different that Patrice, felt drawn to her, at

first in a subconscious way. She wasn’t used to having people acknowledge her, at least as a

friend. But this girl, well she had friendly eyes, so contradictory to her appearance. Her light blue

eyes, were kohl rimmed against freckled skin, and dark makeup was smeared across her face,

while the crimson lipstick that matched her nail began to fade. Her deep red hair cascaded in

ringlet down her back, tousled a bit by the winds. Patrice distinctly remembered her height as

well, for she was tall and slender, with an hourglass shape, in where when she walked her hips

jutted out with each step. Decorating her figure with a maroon dress and a black strapless corset,

that had been laced with strapping up the middle of her chest, showed off her curves. Pale,

shapely legs were covered in fishnets, and thin black boots slid up her calf. All in all, this girl was

of great contrast to Patrice her self, who was contented to hide away in her oversized shirts and

straight legged jeans.

Patrice had a thing for polar opposites, especially in people and because of this for several

days she thought about this medusa. Though her shy visage kept her from striking out with the

olive branch.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Allene, who much rather have been named Betrayal or Vendetta like her pet teddy,

frowned as she pasted the last picture in her sketchbook. It didn’t seem right, the romantic facade

of two lovers enjoying an evening, and in a rush of hatred ripping the her previous pasting job off

its page, she crumpled it and through it hastily in the trash.

“Down with romance! Stupid, stupid romance.” she grumbled to herself.

But then again Allene was always one for the dramatic.

Reaching for the play button on her CD player, System of the Down blaring from the

worn speakers.

Tapping her nails to the beat of Toxicity, she spread herself out on her carpeted floor.

Becoming very interested in her ceiling, she drifted off into the music, thinking of all the reasons

why her hatred of love and romance still blossomed.


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User avatar
4237 Reviews


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Reviews: 4237

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Thu Sep 24, 2020 2:37 am
KateHardy wrote a review...



Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm Knight Hardy here on a mission to ensure that all works on YWS has at least two reviews. You will probably never see this but....Imma do this anyway.

First Impression: This is a pretty nice little concept that you've got going on here. It's definitely showing a really nice pair of characters and the little twist at the end with this being revealed as an artwork was done really well. It's a pretty clever little idea that I'll be trying as well. And getting back to the story the was some really weird formatting. This space between each line thing is starting to grate on me a bit as I go along because at some points it feels like you've pressed the enter key at some random places and I fight sentence fragments that make no sense on their own. So you might want to refresh the footing of your comment.

Anyway let's get right to it,

The pen scratched along cradled by expert fingers, the words upon the page illuminating

the ideals of the mind at work. Furiously the fingers dug, reaching into the crevices of the

malleable mind, to find the right word, for the right feeling and when it did, the pale fingers were

rewarded with reflection before delving back in.


Okay that's a pretty decent start to a story. The weird formatting is a little off putting though. It makes it seem like there are no divisions for paragraphs and it just isn't very clear to read. But otherwise its a fairly solid opening.

In a common gesture, she pushed dark strands of hair back behind an ear and continued on

her masterpiece.


That's a neat way to give us a little description of the girl.

From across the room, blue eyes were drawn to The Artist, her pale figure, and the

seemingly dorky clothes that adorned her. The owner of the blue eyes, dearly hoped she would

not be caught, but stared anyway. She watched closely as the fingers moved across the virgin

paper, leaving dark footprints as it went.


Ooh this sounds almost poetic in the way that you've used description here and those are some really good descriptions for this artist figure that she's looking at.

But this girl, well she had friendly eyes, so contradictory to her appearance. Her light blue

eyes, were kohl rimmed against freckled skin, and dark makeup was smeared across her face,

while the crimson lipstick that matched her nail began to fade. Her deep red hair cascaded in

ringlet down her back, tousled a bit by the winds. Patrice distinctly remembered her height as

well, for she was tall and slender, with an hourglass shape, in where when she walked her hips

jutted out with each step. Decorating her figure with a maroon dress and a black strapless corset,

that had been laced with strapping up the middle of her chest, showed off her curves. Pale,

shapely legs were covered in fishnets, and thin black boots slid up her calf. All in all, this girl was

of great contrast to Patrice her self, who was contented to hide away in her oversized shirts and

straight legged jeans.



Well that is a very detailed description that you've managed to create there. Its really bringing the character to life and you also manage to convey Patrice's feelings about this person really well here.

Allene, who much rather have been named Betrayal or Vendetta like her pet teddy,

frowned as she pasted the last picture in her sketchbook. It didn’t seem right, the romantic facade

of two lovers enjoying an evening, and in a rush of hatred ripping the her previous pasting job off

its page, she crumpled it and through it hastily in the trash.

“Down with romance! Stupid, stupid romance.” she grumbled to herself.


Okay that's interesting...it looks like this was the girl that was drawing these two and imagining it happening in her head. That's a neat little twist.

Reaching for the play button on her CD player, System of the Down blaring from the

worn speakers.

Tapping her nails to the beat of Toxicity, she spread herself out on her carpeted floor.

Becoming very interested in her ceiling, she drifted off into the music, thinking of all the reasons

why her hatred of love and romance still blossomed.


Okay that's a pretty decent ending. Not exactly the most poetic or mysterious but a nice clean thing that feels like an ending which is totally fine to have.

Aaaaand that's it for this one.

Overall: Overall this is a really nice piece that you've got right here. It was a really enjoyable little story and that ending is so relatable to us as writers. You've done a really good job with the descriptions and emotions that you've depicted in this piece. The weird paragraphing is honestly the only proper floor that I could think of.

As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.

Stay Safe
Harry




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131 Reviews


Points: 890
Reviews: 131

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Fri May 27, 2005 8:33 am
Ohio Impromptu wrote a review...



Interesting...very interesting. I liked it a lot, but somehow differently to the stuff I've liked before. It almost felt like it was meant to make its point by not having a point. Sorry if that makes absolutely no sense to you, I'm not even sure it makes sense to me. I would love to see it continued and maybe even completed, because where it seems to be going is hidden from me, but i know i wanna see it.

Very good work indeed CL! :)





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