Young Writers Society

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 seems like an intriguing sequel that you've got here for another story which I haven't read so sorry if I miss something and the first person POV's get some interesting thoughts across. However, its a little confusing at the center point where it appears to change to another person that I can't quite figure out the connection with.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Amberline had been right all along, though I hated to admit it, and to finally talk to Daniel like the woman I should be took a great deal of courage. First I thought he’d find me ridiculous, laughable even. Or maybe he’d be insulted, maybe he had never been interested at all, and it was all a fantasy belonging to the vanity of my imagination? And then I stopped, comb in hand in front of the mirror, and looked at myself. If he could have seen me when he met me first, what would have gone through his mind? My skin was so anaemic these days, my eyes ringed with dark circles, so amount of clever make-up application could completely hide. My cheeks pinched and gaunt, from that feeling of hunger I’d put aside all my life. I was black and white, like a silhouette.

I arrived at the One Eyed Cat early, and selected a small table by the window, in case I saw him and changed my mind, decided my courage had only been a figment of my imagination, a ghost emotion provided for by a ghost’s advice. But when I finally saw Daniel, I felt nothing but relief. My heart pounded like a trapped bird, but my head felt washed over with a cool wave. I called over a waiter, and ordered a pot of coffee for the two of us. When Daniel arrived, I met him at the door, and put my shaking hand in his.

“God that was a good idea, you’ll have to forgive my manners, I had such a late one last night!” He dives straight for the cafetiere, and loads about five sugars in his small cup.

”Not at all… John never emerges from backstage other than to slip his opium dealer a few wads of cash, but nothing much has changed for me. The show is different of course, we can’t call it The Ghostlight anymore, people only complained and said it wasn’t right now you were gone…”

After I lost my sight, I felt like in some way I was freer than I had ever been. I felt free from my father’s expectations of me, he saw me now only as a failed and broken man, or if anything, not really as a man at all. I felt free from the constraints of trying to follow a career I could never succeed in, and now with only a little more practice and determination could I really excel musically, in the way I had always dreamed of. I was free from the war, and returned home, permanently. I was free from my unhappy marriage, as when I found three weeks after I was returned, like a broken parcel returned to sender, my wife had taken all the gifts I had lavished upon her, and left me to go back to her family.

Of course I had regrets. These days I mainly regretted that I could not look on Cameo’s face. Understandably, beauty was no object to me, simply a form of vain expression to ensure that other people saw me in a favourable light, and in some cases to invoke their envy. As much as I would have loved to see her features, beautiful as I imagined them, it was the simple fact that I could not see her expressions that unnerved and worried me. In fact, the closer we became, the more it worried me.

Hi Lee,
Thanks for critiquing it - you can tell I wrote that on the train! I don't know why I switched from past to present to past again... very strange. Just because I'm very tired these days I think! Same goes for the full stops. I like how you've changed that sentence around, that's much better, and also yes you can tell he's worried so it doesn't need to say so. Sorry that I can't critique you back at the moment, I'm at work so much that there's no time! I haven't really got enough time to be connecting these together, I'm just writing when I've got time, and there's so little time I'm basically just grateful for any inspiration that comes and I can write down!
But I'm really glad you find it readable, and the characters to be good x

PaperCrane wrote: Amberline had been right all along, though I hated to admit it, and to finally talk to Daniel like the woman I should be #FF0000 ">(,)took a great deal of courage. First I thought he’d find me ridiculous, laughable even. Or maybe he’d be insulted, maybe he had never been interested at all, and it was all a fantasy belonging to the vanity of my imagination? And then I stopped, comb in hand in front of the mirror, and looked at myself. If he could have seen me when he met me first, what would have gone through his mind? My skin was so anaemic these days, my eyes ringed with dark circles, so #FF0000 ">(no) amount of clever make-up application could completely hide. My cheeks pinched and gaunt, from that feeling of hunger I’d put aside all my life. I was black and white, like a silhouette.
I arrived at the One Eyed Cat early, and selected a small table by the window, in case I saw him and changed my mind, decided my courage had only been a figment of my imagination, a ghost emotion provided for by a ghost’s advice#FF0000 ">(this sentence reads very awkwardly, try: 'I arrived at the One Eyed Cat early and selected a small table by the window, in case I saw him and changed my mind. In case i decided my courage had only been a figment of my imagination, a ghost emotion provided by a ghost’s advice.'). But when I finally saw Daniel, I felt nothing but relief. My heart pounded like a trapped bird, but my head felt washed over with a cool wave. I called over a waiter, and ordered a pot of coffee for the two of us. When Daniel arrived, I met him at the door, #FF0000 ">(unnecessary comma)and put my shaking hand in his.
“Is everything all right Cameo? Has something happened#FF0000 ">(?),” he worried,#FF0000 ">(it's unnecessary to put 'he worried', the reader can already tell he's worried from what he said. A simple 'he said' would do.) as I led him to our table, and then smelling the strong coffee, grinned a guilty grin, #FF0000 ">(full stop here)
“God that was a good idea, you’ll have to forgive my manners, I had such a late one last night!” He dives #FF0000 ">(you've switched to present tense here,the rest is in past tense, should be 'dove')straight for the cafetiere, and loads #FF0000 ">(loaded)about five sugars in his small cup.
“A good show?”
”Oh the usual, the usual show, nothing how it was when you were around, nothing like the audience shows up these days,#FF0000 ">(full stop)”
“I’m sorry, have I ruined your reputation?”
”Not at all… John never emerges from backstage other than to slip his opium dealer a few wads of cash, but nothing much has changed for me. The show is different of course, we can’t call it The Ghostlight anymore, people only complained and said it wasn’t right now you were gone…”
Daniel drinks his coffee down in one, and reaches for another before his cup is even down on solid ground. On realising he still hasn’t listened to my reply, he stopped himself,#FF0000 ">(you've switched tenses again, at the beginning of the story it was past tense 'I arrived early...', and now you've switched to present tense.)
“And are you all right? I’m not used to seeing you before noon.”
“I’m all right Daniel, to tell you the truth, I wanted to apologise to you,#FF0000 ">(full stop)”

***

After I lost my sight, I felt like in some way I was freer than I had ever been. I felt free from my father’s expectations of me, he saw me now only as a failed and broken man, or if anything, not really as a man at all. I felt free from the constraints of trying to follow a career I could never succeed in, and now with only a little more practice and determination could I really excel musically, in the way I had always dreamed of. I was free from the war, and returned home, permanently. I was free from my unhappy marriage, as when I found three weeks after I was returned, like a broken parcel returned to sender, my wife had taken all the gifts I had lavished upon her, and left me to go back to her family.
I was freed from all of my constraints, and while this may have driven many men before me into depression and madness, I finally felt as though I was in control of my life.
Of course I had regrets. These days I mainly regretted that I could not look on Cameo’s face. Understandably, beauty was no object to me, simply a form of vain expression to ensure that other people saw me in a favourable light, and in some cases to invoke their envy. As much as I would have loved to see her features, beautiful as I imagined them, it was the simple fact that I could not see her expressions that unnerved and worried me. In fact, the closer we became, the more it worried me.
Most people were easy to read, their voices telling a separate and deeper story than their words, and more than they would like to admit to, but Cameo always said what she felt she should say, and no more, and if she was ever lying, she was a good actress and I had no way of knowing any difference. If her face was what betrayed her, then it was all lost on me.