Simple Passion

Hey Isha! It's Maddy here, and I'm going to review this.

I'd like to start out by saying I thought this piece had potential to be metaphoric. I thought this needs to have an underlying message that doesn't have to be apparent on the first read.
For example, I liked how her dress was different to the others. And if you spend more time describing the clothing contrast between the rebel child and the others, then you really don't need to tell us that she is of a different mindset, because it is applied. And when she starts to rebel against her master, we as readers understand exactly what is happening. It's a win-win situation: there is more description in the piece, and you are eliminating some of your "tell" moments and putting more "show moments in. Am I making sense?
PM me if you have any more questions.
-Maddy

Isha!

So, Kars has given a very good review and I'll just pop in a few comments.

This general was their Master, and they followed him without question. He soothed them when they cried in terror- terror that he created. He wounded them and then used their weakness to force their trust. Not a man. A vapour. No, not even that. The Master was the Master. It was as simple as that.

Comments and corrections in red, Isha.

Isha wrote:Alright, so. I like JUST wrote this. I sort of just started writing, and then I suddenly couldn't stop.... and well, this happened. It doesn't make much sense, I know, but hey. xD I just wanted to post it to see what you guys thought. I didn't edit anything... and I doubt I will. (Except for typos). It's just sort of one of those write and let it be written things. I skipped this, because I started to read it and realized it was an explanation. I don't want explanations. I want the story. :3


The battlefield was small, though the numbers were many. Meaning: there were lots of small battlefields. I'm pretty sure this wasn't what you wanted to say. Hundreds of small soldiers- all opposing one. I figured you were referring to soldiers in the first sentence, but you were missing a word in there. Also, small seems like a strange word to use here. I imagine toy soldiers. oo" One small Word repetition. Use a synonym in its stead. soldier was (Otherwise it'd be a fragment. I understand that sometimes people use fragments in their prose for dramatic effect, but in here, the fragment seems as if it's an unintentional one, so it'd be best if you fixed it.)clad in lavender instead of white. One small soldier who knew thingsthat the others would long for, if they only knew it existed. This is an awkward sentence. Kind of stilted, and it's structured strangely. Mind revising?

Only, this wasn't just a battlefield; it was a mansion. And the soldiers weren't just soldiers, but children as well. Pale and dressed in white lace nightdresses I'm a little torn here. White lace nightdresses doesn't quite sit right with me, but I can't figure out how to correct it either. White lace nightdresses. It makes me stumble. Try to see if you can phrase this differently., their eyes focused. And of course, this being no ordinary battlefield, and the warriors being no ordinary warriors, their general was not an ordinary man. "Being" is used twice in this sentence. Sometimes using the same word in close proximity works, but I'm iffy about it in this situation. Part of me says it works, but the other half insists it doesn't.

He did not stand in front, nor in the center, nor at the back. I think it would flow better if you cut both nors. Just change it to something like "He did not stand in front, in the center, or at the back." I think this might be a personal thing, though. He seemed to ease Remember, seemed to implies that it isn't really so. Be careful about the use of this phrase. through the cracks, a vapour of many colours- of black and red, yellow and gold. Death and life. Hatred and lust. Lust that mocked love, that promised and never gave. This last sentence is a combo breaker, and I think it'd work better if you eased into it. Make sentences like those for the other nouns as well.

This general was their master You don't capitalize master because you have "their" in front of them. More on this later., and they followed him without question. He soothed them when they cried in terror- terror that he caused (I think it should be caused, because terror here refers not to something terrible, but to the feeling of terror, and it makes more sense if he caused a feeling as opposed to creating a feeling. Even though I think I have a good idea of who this Master is by this point. >> That aside, though, did I make sense? I could explain it to you further if you PM me.). He wounded them and then used their weakness to force their trust. Not a man. A vapour. No, not even that. The Master was the Master. It was as simple as that.

And the Master's children were hardly children, and this mansion was hardly home. No, this was a dollhouse, and these tiny bodies were his dolls. They obeyed without question; they let him bend and twist their minds and bodies however he wished.

They would please the Master, and in return, they would live. Mock love. Mock comfort and security. Mock Master and mock life.

All but that one little girl in lavender. She knew no name and went by Child, as did all of the master's little play toys. This particular little girl, clothed in a gown that flowed out behind her, knew truth.

Which meant that she knew the Master was a lie.

And that meant that the master had not even mock love left in his heart for her. Very awkward. No matter how many times I read it, I stumbled. Revise. It meant that this little girl in lavender must die. And die she would. The Master knew. Knew she would die? I think this last sentence is superfluous. Take it out?

“Ssssweet Child,” Master purred, “why must you deceive us so? Your mind is stained so horribly it can not be cleansed.” He lifted a finger, a misty tower above the white-clad minions' heads. Two red eyes opened slowly, pupil-less and consumed by a blood-lust so powerful it sent a chill through that one small girl's bones.

She said nothing, but remained in the center of the large room. Her chest rose and fell quietly, though her heart was throbbing, so quickly was it beating. Remove the last part. It tries to be poetic and fails. She stared ahead, unblinking, straight into those horrible red eyes. This young girl in lavender could not be moved.

“You say nothing, but I know what's on your mind,” Master hissed, his misty vapours formingtwisting around their tiny ankles. It seeped into their skin, causing it to bubble. But the children remained still. Their faces contorted in pain, but no scream penetrated Penetrate means to go inside. Why would a scream go inside their lips? Wrong word. their lips.

Child What irks me is that you introduced her name some time ago, but you took so long to use it, and consistently referred to her as "the girl in lavender" until now. I'd rather you call her Child earlier. lifted her tiny head higher. “You lie. You are deceitful, a wretch. These are the words spoken to me by the Veiled King.” How old is she? She sounds like something out of a storybook. Her words are stilted. She doesn't sound like a child at all. Her voice held strong,(I think it flows better without the comma.) despite her fear. She kept her eyes away from the agonized faces of the children she once knew, training them Here, them refers to the agonized faces of the children. Might as well use a noun instead. Your antecedent is all screwy if you use them. on those terrible red voids.

The mist seemed to tightened its grip against the children, sinking into their skin quicker than ever before. From what I could tell, it really did tighten its grip, so no need to put in seemed. Their skin bubbled, then blistered and were covered in horrid sores. The last part of this sentence reads somewhat off. Revise? Finally, a scream sounded in the room. Three hundred agonized voices filled the room and caused the ground to shake. The fragment doesn't work. Also, you said a scream. A scream. Meaning one voice. oo' Suddenly it's three hundred? Careful there.

The girl in the lavender gown threw her hands to her ears, though her eyes remained open Too weak a reaction. It veers sharply into the unbelievable.. Rather than a calm look, they were narrowed into a glare. There's something wrong with this sentence, though I can't put my finger on it. A glare centered on her master. The Master who had no reign over her anymore. Funny. If he has no reign over her anymore, then why did you refer to him as "her master" in the last sentence?

“You lie,” she repeated. A child is more likely to go, "You're lying!" “Release them!” "Let them go!" Your dialog is incredibly stilted.She was screaming over screams, one voice against three hundred. One voice against three hundred that carried above the rest. Misplaced modifier. "That carried the rest" modifies three hundred, as opposed to one voice.

The Master grinned. Not that it was visible. No. But she could feel it, feel his lips turn up into a sickening sneer.

“Simple minded fool!” came the reply. “They will not be released! They are mine. You can not comprehend this because your mind has been soiled by wicked dreams!” Why dost thou not speaketh like this instead? >> It's really too high-handed to be taken seriously. oo"

It was then that the mist lifted, only so slightly, to where those three hundred heads sat on those six hundred shoulders. This is a very strange image. I suggest you take it out. Now the vapours were sinking into the skin on their heads, disappearing into their hair and causing their faces to twist into frightening expressions.

That one lavender-clad girl Here we go again. Call her Child, for crying out loud. ._. Switch every once in a while, but please, don't call her Child once then totally forget about the name. shivered, then trembled, but she simply would not back down. I think it flows better like this. That small army stepped forwards as one, and she held her ground. The first of them trailed now-beastly claws across her skin, and still she held firm. No screaming? No pain? Nothing? Also, trailed makes it seem as if they're not really hurting her, but merely letting her feel the tip of their claws.

The sound of ripping fabric filled her ears and the feel of blood Missed a chance here. What does blood feel like? Sticky? Smooth? Warm? trickled down her skin. She winced and squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears, but she refused to move. She couldn't if she tried. There's a contradiction in these last two sentences. See, refused to move implies that she has a choice in the matter. The second sentence completely wipes out what was implied by the last one, so...yeah. oo"

“There is no one else,” the Master hissed. That already-venomous voice seemed ten times as lethal now (I think it works better if you put now in.). “I am Master; there is no other. No other who holds such power.”

The clawing continued. And then came kicking and biting. Pain spread threw the girl's body and she fell to her knees, covering her head with her arms. I don't really feel her pain, nor do I think this is possible. 300 children clawing at her, and she's not ripped into itty bitty shreds yet? “No!” It was a simple word, but simple words held power. In more cases than not, such a simple word held more power than some of the most long, elegant words imaginable.

No was one of those simple words. You went off on a tangent about simple words. I can accept that. What I can't accept is the tense shift. Try to keep it consistent. Stick with past.

The attacks stopped, only for a moment. A snarl from the Master yielded no result. The vapour poured in through their Their refers to attacks. Careful with your antecedents. eyes and noses now, and finally the attacks continued. The whole time, our one small little girl, the one clad in a now-torn lavender gown, whispered the same thing over again. Tiny, simple words with so much power.

“I believe I can be freed.”

And she didn't stop until the whole world had faded from her view, and the horrific noises ceased to be heard. Now there was only one thing on her mind. One voice, filled with a passionate love that this small girl could not begin to understand.

You are free, and you are Mine. You are Mine and you are loved. The voice held more sincerity than the small girl had ever heard. Awkward sentence. Revise. And more than sincerity was the love. I think I understand what you're trying to say, but this is phrased wrong. Revise. Such a passionate love had never been spoken. You are the daughter of a King. You will rise up and live with me, and you will be called Passion.

And when Passion finally awoke, she felt no pain. No daunting fear that gnawed relentlessly at her. Whether or not the second is a fragment, these two sentences disrupt the flow. Revise? She woke to no blood, no horrible vapours or pupil-less red eyes. She was not sprawled out, limbs twisted at frightening angles, on a cold marble floor. Rearrange the words. They don't sit right.

Instead, Passion woke in a bed more comfortable than she thought possible. Her eyes opened to light so pure and intoxicating, she had to close them again. The second time they opened, they were staring directly into the face of love. Love that wore two crowns. One made of thistles and the other made of pure gold, studded with the most perfect jewels you could ever hope to see. I saw this coming from a hundred miles away. I think you could make it less obvious in the beginning? oo"

Passion smiled, and this King called Love smiled back, eyes twinkling. She was finally home.

Sixty years old, that's how old her aunt is.

Sixty years old, that's how old Aunt is.