Young Writers Society

His lips curved perfectly into a smirk you could call it

The teeth pearly white and you could find nothing, no imperfections in his skin

and my friend I tell you it was not the funnest night

My mother had been ill for a while, to me it seemed like she would never get better

She looked at me with her loving eyes, and I saw a smile just barely make her lips; [s]and[/s] then her eyes went blank

Well, alright. So, I read it and you know something? Not bad at all. I will expound. One, I like your writing. The description, the flowery feel of his physical profile? All very nice, but perhaps that's a personal bias I can attribute to my own writing. Anyway, I just love a cocky character. It's a nice stepaway from the "modest", "humble", "good-natured", and "faultless" character. Also? First person narrative, was a good touch for this short tid-bit. I'm not a nag, therefore I won't reiterate how it "moves too fast"- I think you knew that when you submitted it. However, I do find "funnest" a strange term. I think for someone as astute as you portray William to be, he wouldn't go around slinging our vernacular. But I'm sure you've been prodded 'bout that as well. The grief, seemed real, and the line about her being mother to most in the room? Somehow, to me, it seemed rather...unique. And a unique line makes your writing better, I presume. Therefore, I think if you REALLY put your mind to writing something more put-togetha than this? It's be a hit.

You go.

If I was you, I would cut the first bit entirely, the part before the break. I mean, it could work, but I think the work is better without it. Even though it's first person, I think it's better to start off where the story truly starts off, rather than jumping backwards right away.

You jump backwards again after the break and it makes it confusing. I know it's a first-person thing, but it's still easy to get lost. You might want to re-evaluate where the story really begins - if it's when William's mom dies, then start there. If it's not, then start elsewhere. If you don't, you're just dumping backstory.

Your pacing is *really* fast. You go through so many things in the space of a few paragraphs. It does, as Avens said above me, lack emotion, and I think this is why. Just try slowing down a little and delving deeper into the story. I know for myself, something like this would normally take quite a few pages. There's lots of potential for story here. Decide if this is really the beginning, though.

Comments in red.

[aka]eliza wrote:
This man was pale, his skin the color of moonlight. It shone as a silver dollar in the midnight sun. His eyes were of the clearest blue. You start out very choppy. It's as if you're reading off a grocery list. Also, the jump from skin to eyes seems like a break. But, if you ever looked closely, close enough to see beyond the physical being Comma. you would see his passion and wit. Show, don't tell. I won't believe this about his passion and wit if it's not proven to me. Also, the whole "see beyond the physical being" is awkwardly worded. Then there was his smile. His lips curved perfectly into a smirk you could call it. the phrase "perfectly into a smirk you could call it" is incorrect grammar. The teeth pearly white and you could find nothing, no imperfections in his skin. You jump from teeth to skin; it's very random. Even though this man’s skin looked whiter than parchment, it gave off an angelic but devilish glow. You knew this man inside and out without even knowing his name. Or, maybe you thought you did. Yes, this is the true fact. I talk of him so much yet I do not even mention his name! This man happens to be me. My name is William. I'm sorry but this just makes no sense. You can't tell someone that they know you inside out without knowing your name, because they're just going to go "uh...no I don't" (as I did). You could say "people act as if..." or something, but this just doesn't work. Also the jump from describing someone to saying that it is, in fact, the speaking narrator feels really cheesy and as if he thinks he's pulled a "gotcha!" moment, when he hasn't at all.
There is so much I could tell you, but would I have time? Well, I guess that I have plenty to spare, but what about you? I would not think just anyone would have a spare century or more Comma. would they? Ah, yes I have forgotten yet another fact Comma. and a very important one at that! What would you do if I told you that I walk the nights and sleep through the day; or if I had the gift of immortality? Break that into two lines. At the end you probably might assume. Assume...what? But isn’t that myth and lore? Alas, here you again are wrong, I am a vampire. Yeah we guessed that a long time ago. The dark kiss I was given at a very young age, and Comma. my friend Comma. I tell you it was not the funnest night. Who says "Alas" and "funnest" in the same paragraph? No one. You need to find a cohesive voice for your narrator. No, I remember it clear as day; like it had just happened the night before. "No" what? There was no question for him to answer "No" to. "The night before" what? The night before last? Last night?

………………………………………………

The night was young; the moon had Strike "had". glistened beautifully as it hung in the darkened sky You said that it was night. We get that it's dark.. Its light reflected off the cobblestone path that I walked upon Strike "upon".. My destination was the pub that lay east of our home in what you would now call New York. I don't like the mixing here; "my", "our", "you". Pick one reference. Also the "what you would now call New York" feels like a really cheap way to try and age the character. I was in a fit of emotion What kind of emotion? and needed a drink that night Comma. you see. It had been the most dreadful morning of my life. My mother had died from the plague that raced through our village and many others. Not feeling it. I don't see any grief. I stumbled with tear-filled eyes through that small street until I saw that one familiar door a few steps ahead. Show us how he feels; don't tell us that he's crying. My mother had been ill for a while, to me it seemed like she would never get better. Well obviously she didn't, as she is now dead. That morning I remember walking steadily into her bedroom, seeing my siblings and the maids huddled around a small wooden bed; a bundle in the middle "A bundle in the middle" is not a full clause and you cannot end a semicolon'd sentence with that.. Everyone noticed that I had entered and stood aside as I went farther into the room. This reads "Everyone noticed that I had entered and I stood aside as I went farther..." I saw my mother laying deathly still, wearing her white night gown. Her auburn hair had been neatly pinned at the nape of her neck, and she had her fragile hands placed upon her bosom. I personally do not at all like the word "bosom" but it's a judgment call. I quietly sat down and placed my hand upon hers. I remember looking into her beautiful blue eyes that last morning as she turned her head in my direction.
"I love youComma mum Comma. Also, "mum" should be capitalized, since you're using it as a proper noun." I whispered to her; New sentence. I didn't want to see her die. Her eyes were sunken, and her skin was pale. My mother's name was Anna. Telling us her name is very random here. She looked at me with her loving eyes, and I saw a smile just barely make her lips "make her lips" what? What did it make them do?; and then her eyes went blank. One of my younger sisters gasped and burst out in tears. My brothers comforted her with silent voices Please explain to me how someone uses a silent voice. as I slid from where I sat. I couldn't bear it, my mother, Anna, was gone; the one who gave life to almost everyone in this room, just gone. I just don't feel the pain. Anger rushed into me, it had to be the plague! The anger had to be the plague? I feared for everyone including myself, I would go mad if someone else in my family became infected.
I shoved open the door to the pub and was welcomed with the smell of beer and cigarettes. Cigarettes? When is this set? I walked over to an empty table and perched myself in one of the chairs closest to me. I called for a beer and went on thinking, No comma. about what my mother You have an extra space here. had left behind. We buried her beneath the giant oak tree that had been her favorite place to rest. Jump from you in the pub to you at the funeral too soon. I remember watching as we laid her coffin into the young earth Why is the earth young? , and placed flowers on top; everyone whispering prayers. I stood there amongst the rest of them, not whispering one word; tears sweeping my cheeks.