Clements, Lemon and Crunch - Part One - First Draft

This is great! The writing style is very unique and intriguing. You left me wondering what would happen next. There isn't really anything that needs nitpicking, but I would have preferred if you had used the "TAB" bar to make the new paragraphs whenever someone talks. It kind of looks like a block of text. A small space makes a difference. I would have liked to know how the glass had enough force behind it in order to actually pierce the girls heart. If it was magic that did it, maybe make it more obvious?

The other reviewers have covered the rest, so all I can say is, "Good job"! Looking forward to more.

Thanks both of you. You've both given me some stuff to think about and I am definitely going to do a rewrite now. I am also going to take another look at part two. If you would like anything reviewed in return, let me know.
Sophie

Hey Sophie!

Thanks for using my WRFF thread!
This was good and my comments are here in red.

SophieSays wrote:Formerly posted as: The Man In The Top Hat/Emilie's Diary - Part One

Smash.
And with that sound, her heart broke. The glass sped through the air like a jagged bullet, embedding itself deep within her chest. It cut something, something integral. She didn’t have time to gasp or splutter - she simply died. Lolling on the window seat, her eyes wide and glassy, blood bloomed on her white blouse, surrounding the glinting badge that read: Emilie. The man that had entered through the window watched with polite interest. A top hat sat wonkily atop his greasy hair and his eyes glinted madly. His dry lips were pursed as he leant forwards to peer under the girl’s curtain of hair.
“A shame,” he murmured as he clutched her chin and tilted her head this way and that “A pretty girl.” I would prefer 'Such a pretty girl.' It gives a better flow of speech, if you read it out. But hey, it's my opinion.

A book lay on the girl’s lap, and he swiped it upI would suggest you go for something like : The book (describe it a bit) caught his attention. He swiped it up and..', flipping through the pages with a casual interest. Dropping it, he pranced Not sure prance is the right word. over the glass that littered the floor, the sound of blaring horns and wailing sirens spilling in through the window.<< Try rephrasing this sentence. It's a little cluttered. They would be here soon, but he had enough time. His fingerprints would be all over everything, but he didn’t care. As long as the canon had been wheeled out of the way, everything would be fine. Sweat prickled under his armpits and across his face. This never got any easier. Killing people was always . . . difficult.As Kara said, your sentences contradict. He shook his head vigorously and his grubby top hat went flying across the room << This seems very unnatural like you're doing it just so that it's one more clue left for the police. Be subtle. Don't show it like this.- another clue he didn’t have time to retrieve. Darting through the doorway, he pushed open all the doors. The apartment was small and it didn’t take him long to find her room. It was pink, so pink it was almost blinding. The man shielded his eyes before laughing nervously. He peered under the bed, felt under the pillow, slammed open the doors of the wardrobe.
“Hmmm. . .” he pondered aloud “Where do you keep your diary, then, Miss Emilie?” He crept back into the main room. The sirens were getting louder, and he could hear shouts outside. They must have seen him, heard him. “Keep calm, Clements,” he told himself sternly “keep calm.”
Out of interest, he opened the fridge and pulled open the freezer. He practically leapt into the air with excitement. It was there.
Again, it was pink; pink and fluffy and crusted with ice. But it was a diaryI think 'the' in place of 'a' is better., oh, boy was it a diary. It was bound with string and chains and padlocks. Grabbing it, his hands shaking, he slipped it into the bag. Footsteps were pounding up the stairs now. He licked his lips, his eyes darting from his hat to the doorway. Did he have time? Throwing himself across the room, he landed with a thump and a moan. Slapping the hat onto his head, he heard the rhythm of the footsteps build. Since he retrieves the hat, the falling of it seems unnecessary.
“Let’s hope you listened to everything Mr Crunch told you, Emilie.” He said, throwing her a knowing look as he tapped the bag and tears came to his eyesTears?. He threw his head back and laughed manically.I think he shouldn't be making noise. He had it, he actually had it. Skipping into her room, he daintily dropped to his knees and felt his way across the floor. It was when he neared the wardrobe that he felt resistance. It was like he was nudging against something solid. He coughed and the block faded. The door was being smashed down now. Sweat dripped down his forehead and fell into his eyes. The trap door slowly materialised before him as he urged it on. Fumbling with the catch, he slammed it open, not caring if they could hear him - by the time they got in here he would be far away. He sat on the edge of the trapdoor, poised, like a diver. He just wanted to make sure . . . The door surrendered with a lightning crack, and he heard them forcing their way into the apartment. Clements leapt Personally, I'm not sure I like the use of 'leapt' again. Try something else.into the darkness when he heard the scream. It almost split his eardrums, and if he felt any guilt, it was camouflaged in the joy that came with falling.

Comments in red.

SophieSays wrote:Formerly posted as: The Man In The Top Hat/Emilie's Diary - Part One

This is intended to be part one of a long story. I've just finished it, so there might be some rough parts, but I think I've edited as much as I can at the moment. I hope you enjoy it!
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Smash.
And with that sound, her heart broke. The glass sped through the air like a jagged bullet, embedding itself deep within her chest. It cut something, something integral. She didn’t have time to gasp or splutter - she simply died. Lolling on the window seat, her eyes wide and glassy, The beginning of this sentence is a dangling modifier. Fix. blood bloomed on her white blouse, surrounding the glinting badge that read: Emilie. The man who had entered through the window watched with polite interest. A top hat sat wonkily atop his greasy hair and his eyes glinted word repetition madly. His dry lips were pursed as he leant forwards to peer under the girl’s curtain of hair. Personally I don't think under is the right word here.
“A shame,” he murmured as he clutched Use held. Clutched makes it sound weird, IMO. her chin and tilted her head this way and that “A pretty girl.”
A book lay on the girl’s lap and he swiped it up, flipping through the pages with casual interest. Dropping it, he pranced over Are you sure pranced is the word you want to use? 0o I see him skipping and dancing over the glass in my head. the glass that littered the floor, the sound of blaring horns and wailing sirens spilling in through the window. They would be here soon, but he had enough time. His fingerprints would be all over everything, but he didn’t care. As long as the canon had been wheeled out of the way, everything would be fine. Sweat prickled under his armpits and across his face. This never got any easier. Killing people was always . . . difficult. The last two sentences don't fit in with what you've already shown us through his body language. He seems fine about killing people. :\ It's all very contradictory. He shook his head vigorously and his grubby top hat went flying across the room Either he was deliberately trying to get his top hat to fly off his head or it was just sitting on top and it didn't really fit him. Because you don't shake your head that hard or that long. - another clue he didn’t have time Didn't you just say he had enough time? Now you're telling us he didn't have time. 0o to retrieve. Darting through the doorway, he pushed open all the doors. ____ing, he ____ed means he did the first and second verb together. Now he couldn't have darted through the doorway and opened all the doors at the same time. The apartment was small and it didn’t take him long to find her room. It was pink, so pink it was almost blinding. The man shielded his eyes before laughing nervously. The laughing part is a symptom of crazy, I presume? He peered under the bed, felt under the pillow, slammed open the doors of the wardrobe.
“Hmmm. . .” he pondered aloud “Where do you keep your diary, then, Miss Emilie?” He crept back into the main room. The sirens were getting louder, and he could hear shouts outside. They must have seen him, heard him. “Keep calm, Clements,” he told himself sternly “keep calm.”
Out of interest, he opened the fridge and pulled open Word repetition. Replace it with out, maybe? the freezer. He practically leapt into the air with excitement. It was there. Okay, now it feels like a deus ex machina. Show us why he opened it. Maybe he was desperate because he couldn't find it anywhere else/ I don't know. Something./
Again, it was pink; pink and fluffy and crusted with ice. But it was a diary, oh, boy was it a diary. I love that line. It was bound with string and chains and padlocks. Grabbing it, his hands shaking, he slipped it into the bag. Footsteps were pounding up the stairs now. He licked his lips, his eyes darting from his hat to the doorway. Did he have time? Throwing himself across the room, he landed with a thump and a moan. Slapping the hat onto his head, he heard the rhythm of the footsteps build.
“Let’s hope you listened to everything Mr Crunch told you, Emilie.” He said, throwing her a knowing look as he tapped the bag and tears came to his eyes. Why did tears come to his eyes? 0o He threw his head back and laughed manically. Then whoever was coming would have heard him and would run faster. He can't make much sound now if he hears the footsteps. He had it, he actually had it. Skipping into her room, he daintily dropped to his knees and felt his way across the floor. It was when he neared the wardrobe that he felt resistance. It was like he was nudging against something solid. He coughed and the block faded. The door was being smashed down now. Sweat dripped down his forehead and fell into his eyes. The trap door slowly materialised before him as he urged it on. Materialized. So he created it? Fumbling with the catch, he slammed it open, not caring if they could hear him - by the time they got in here he would be far away. He sat on the edge of the trapdoor, poised, like a diver. He just wanted to make sure . . . The door surrendered with a lightning crack, and he heard them forcing their way into the apartment. Clements leapt into the darkness when he heard the scream. It almost split his eardrums, and if he felt any guilt, it was camouflaged in the joy that came with falling.

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Part two coming soon!

Thanks everyone! I decided not to post this in Fantasy Fiction as at the moment the fantastical elements are a minor part. Here is a link to the second part: topic61895.html

Hey Sophie, I'm Evi! ^_^ Thanks you for using my WRFF thread.

“A shame,” he murmured as he clutched her chin and tilted her head this way and that. “A pretty girl.”

Grabbing it, his hands shaking, he slipped it into the bag. Footsteps were pounding up the stairs now. He licked his lips, his eyes darting from his hat to the doorway. Did he have time? Throwing himself across the room, he landed with a thump and a moan. Slapping the hat onto his head, he heard the rhythm of the footsteps build.

Thanks everyone for your lovely comments. This is my first proper project for a while, so its nice to know I haven't become too rusty! Part two should be out fairly soon - I'll post a link here when I've finished it.
Thanks again! Sophie

Ooh, I like this! It was strange and wild (in a good way) but also felt oddly meaningful to me. I'm insanely intrigued to see what the heck this guy wants with this young girl's diary. Is part two going to be out soon? I'll be keeping my eyes open looking for it.

This is my kind of writing! It's not overly descriptive and you don't just put fancy words onto the page for the sake of it! Beautiful!

The glass sped through the air like a jagged bullet, embedding itself deep within her chest. It cut something, something integral. She didn’t have time to gasp or splutter - she simply died. Lolling on the window seat, her eyes wide and glassy, blood bloomed on her white blouse, surrounding the glinting badge that read: Emilie. The man that had entered through the window watched with polite interest. A top hat sat wonkily atop his greasy hair and his eyes glinted madly. His dry lips were pursed as he leant forwards to peer under the girl’s curtain of hair.

I really like this story. I like the crook's interesting personality, and you also left me wondering why he killed Emilie and what he did with her diary. This descriptions are very visual, I can almost picture the scene in my head. No spelling or grammar errors were apparent! Keep writing

I really do love this, it's very well written! You've obviously thought a lot about the descriptions you used, and it paid off because it was very effective. I'm dying to know what happens next!

Well done, great story

"This is when I wish there was a LOVE button!" a quote from JaceClayton.

I truly love this and there are no nitpicks I cand find. I love the creativity and the wierd and kooky vibe the attacker let off. I am dying to know where the hole goes and who this guys is and what he wants with this girl's diary.

Kudos to you, my friend.

Biffle