Young Writers Society

Hey, i promised you another part of chapter one, enjoy!
It had grown dark and no-one but a flock of nosey sparrows noticed or heard the body of James Teal slump to the floor and get dragged into an alleyway. James awoke, instinctively defending himself. His shoulders sagged slightly when he saw a young girl’s inquisitive face, pressed closely to his. Of course these feelings changed when a man, probably her father stepped out from behind a crate. The man’s muscles rippled below his shirt, and when he flexed an ominous vein bulged in his neck. They were wearing short-cutoff pants, their shirt cuffs turned up and their boots supported by an inch of leather.

She cocked her head to one side, like an interested puppy. For a long while James sat on the cold, hard ground while she perched over him, her hands locked behind her back. Always the man hovered slightly behind, never a word passing between them. After a while the stiffness started up. And for the first time James realized he was indeed tied, a short loop of rope cutting off his circulation to both his arms and legs.

With James’s body returning to normal so did his mind; his first though was that he was about to be mugged or attacked but by the look of the girls posture James doubted that very much.
James fumbled and attempted to rock back onto his hands, succeeding, He scooped up a clump of dirt, and closing his fingers around it he squeezed his hand. Finally the young girl moved, snapping he fingers as she stepped back. The older man stepped forwards and leaned in towards James, towering over him. He cut James’s bonds, gripped his right hand in a vice like hold and snapped a small collar just above James wrist.

When the man spoke his voice was cracked and hoarse, “Now this band….” He began, but before he could continue he was interrupted. The young girl raised a finger to her lips and pointed to a corner, the man skulked away.

James was amazed at the level of control this young girl had over a man nearly twice her superior. He was even more amazed at her voice, when she spoke, part of him was compelled to listen and obey nearly everything she was saying.

“James teal…” the young girl said his name with such passion and vibrancy.
“Yes?” he responded earnestly, hearkening to her voice.
“Good, good,” she whispered, “James raise your right hand to your face and brush the hair from your eyes…”

James found himself obeying her word for word, and even questioning his sanity for even thinking she could be a threat.

“Who, who are you?” he managed to say, “Where am I?” James said this more to himself than her but the effects of his words were explosive.

“That is none of your business!” And in that second her façade slipped and suddenly she didn’t seem so persuasive. She must have noted it too; she stepped back and sat on a box behind her staring deeply into James eyes.

“You work at the precinct don’t you?”She said, a bit harshly
“If I did, and I’m not saying I do, do you think I would actually answer the questions of someone who has tied me up and tossed me in an alley? Jeez!” James felt his old resolve and fire flooding his veins; it felt good to be in charge once again.

She scowled darkly, “I don’t think you’re in any position to say whether or not you will answer my questions. That bracelet on your hand will literally take it off in a few minutes; it will contract slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly. Until all the remains of your hand, remains on the floor.”

James looked at his hand and could already see red marks from where the metal was biting into his skin, making it raw and chaffed. But he knew enough about hostage taking to know that you never let the threats get to you, if you did you were consumed and you would never be the same person again. “So that’s why I have two hands love.” James felt thrilled by his response.

She leant forward, resting her hand on her chin. She smirked slightly, “You know, I actually knew you would say that so I took the liberty of strapping one to your daughters neck, you know for collateral.”
He swallowed back the venom in his throat, he must remain civilized, he must not fall for the bait. “Collateral would suggest a trade of sorts, what is your proposal? Is it money?

She rolled her eyes, “please you insult me, money may be a perk but it’s not my long term goal, no.”

“What I want is for you to now think back to your patrol and tell me the easiest way to get in and out of the castle.” The words rolled off her tongue.

James was stunned, what had he got himself into? “Even if I knew, what makes you think I would tell you? What stops you from leaving me here to lose my hand and a daughter tonight? I doubt it would be a conscience.”

She responded almost immediately, “The very fact that I have the key to both bracers should be enough… but then again I doubt it is,” she reached into her coat and pulled out two small keys. She held them aloof in her clenched fist. “Well I don’t know maybe we should leave him.” Both the young girl and the man began to walk away. James rose, as he sprung up, he tossed the clump of mud into the man’s face. Ignoring the coils of hate, James wrapped his arm around the young girls throat and pressed the back of her neck with his free hand, Turning to the old man he shouted “Come any closer and she dies, I swear it now look. I have no idea how to get into the palace and I don’t care what rebel groups you belong to you do not assault a copper got it?” He pressed down a little harder, hating the feeling of her empty retches.

The man looked stunned for a bit, not knowing what to do. James took that as a sign and continued on. “Good night, love” He whispered into the young girl’s air, blowing slightly on her air lobe. Her eyebrows arched, her eyelids flickered rapidly. James knew that if he kept this up she would indeed die, even though part of him loathed her for threatening his daughter he still couldn’t bring himself to kill her.
Thinking fast he let her go, as she gasped for air he kneed her in the back of the leg, grabbing the keys from her hand he snapped off the bracer. She fell flat on her face and didn’t stir again. The man’s eyes were red and he was screaming and clawing at his face. James turned and ran, he ran until he cleared the alley. He ran until he cleared the street. He ran up the stairs, kissed his wife and ran to his bedroom. He fell asleep still running, in and out of his dreams.
He snapped awake realizing he hadn’t checked on his daughter, rolling over; still more asleep than awake he turned to his wife.
“Where, where’s Cindy?” he managed, “I didn’t get a chance to tell her goodnight.”
His wife yawned sleepily, pretending to ignore him so that he would fall back to sleep. He repeated what he had said, his voice rising slightly. “She wanted to stay at your sister’s house tonight, with Benjamin and Sarah… now relax and go to sleep.”
This settled his conscience for a little while, if she was indeed at his sisters, James would have been notified if anything was wrong, maybe the girl was bluffing. Wrapping his arm around his wife he fell asleep, a little while later his wife awoke retracted his arm and pushed him away.

wow avens i am extremely grateful for all of the time you have spent in reviewing my work. I'm just letting you know i will be away for a few days but when i return you should be expecting a whole new chapter =)

James spluttered and coughed dirt into his hand. He lay prostrate on the floor in front of his favorite tavern, “The Full Keg”. After a boisterous row with the owner, Old Sam, he had been forcefully removed.
Composing himself, James looked back, staring straight into Sam’s accusing glare. When the inn door slammed shut, it scraped against the floor and kicked up a cloud of dirt and rust. Old Sam threw the deadbolt and turned back to the bar, his head shaking.
James pleaded with his eyes, knowing that this would be the last time he ever set foot in that bar, his haven again. Knowing that there would be nowhere to run from his worries anymore made him even wearier. Knowing that he would have to face reality he turned, rose to his feet and headed for home.
On his way, he walked past small stores and vendors who were closing their stalls for the night. Breathing in the rich aroma from the coffee sellers, he purchased a cup, and raised the dark brew to his lips. The coffee cleared James’s head, allowing him to regain a measure of control over himself. Setting the cup back onto counter, James handed the man a few dollars and with a hurried goodbye he walked away.
Without realizing it, James walked right into the commercial section of the small town. Unable to help himself, He pressed his face against the window pane of a shop window and peered inside. The store was dazzlingly lit, the light reflected off tassels that hung from the ceiling, in shades of gold and silver. Colorful Cloth covered every available space and every inch of James was green with envy. As James passed the front door, the bellboy shot him a reproachful look, and his hand went to bar the door. Looking down at himself, James understood why: his hat was stuffed into his coat pocket, his usually clean cut hair was unkempt and matted with dirt from his fall, and even his clothes were dirtied and pockmarked.
He sighed deeply, and looked at the sign, “Toy Emporium”. His thoughts stumbled back to his daughter who was promised a present almost every single night by her fighting parents, this brought tears to his eyes and he promised that he would never touch another drop of alcohol as long as he lived. When James was under the influence he couldn’t be certain he could ensure his families safety… from himself.
Dragging his hand along the window pane silently, he stared inside again. Every person that saw James gave him either a pitying look or a disdainful one. Then and there, James decided to make things right once and for all, for himself and for his family. With new purpose, he quickened his pace and headed home. for once he would not lie to his wife; he would look her in the eyes and tell her exactly where he had been and why. This thought gave him a bit more pep to his step, and he thought of his wife and child, waiting at home for him. He hurried onwards.
James passed down and out of the Financial Section he passed under a small arch, and along a dreary lane. He hugged the very edge of the road because it was still quite early and carts and trolleys still passed by regularly, some carrying very pompous officials who thought themselves too great or too rich to walk.
Cutting a left past the “Dewnans and Family’s Bakery and Cakery”, coincidentally the same bakery he used. Stealing a quick wave at Mr. Dewnan as he crossed the road earned him a long list of unmentionable swear words, all pertaining to late fees on some bread and biscuits he had purchased on credit. James dashed along High Street ( a road that cut the town into quarters, and caged the different districts into their own small area) taking care to, this time, avoid the carriages as they trampled past. The High Street worked like a great waterway, all roads eventually converged upon it and quickly flowed out again, into smaller lanes or alleyways all connected to the High Street.
After about a mile on this road he took a left and followed a winding path to the very edge of the city. here near the great walls, were the poorest reaches, the slums. He could see his house from here; actually it wasn’t a house, after the recent pay cuts at the Precinct he was forced to rent a small apartment above a small family-owned washer house. The stink could be smelt half way up the street.
He was still reeling from the smell when he felt a hand lock off his airway. An arm was slipped around his neck; he struggled to break free from the titanic grip. Someone jabbed him behind the knee and he collapsed into their arms… unable to breathe in enough air and unable to struggle anymore, he gave into that beautiful release and slipped from consciousness.
It had grown dark and no-one but a flock of nosey sparrows noticed or heard the body of James Teal slump to the floor and get dragged into an alleyway.


Thank you for your review avens. This is an edited copy along the same lines which you spoke of above. i look forward to more reviews.

~i think i can,i think i can,i think i can~

Wow. I'm extremely impressed with you right now.

This is leaps and bounds better! In fact, you may have just thrown my entire lesson plan out the window.

One thing you still need to work on is paragraph composition. Yours are all extremely long, which feels disorganized to read and is just harder on the eyes (as well as more daunting). It's likely that you've had a teacher tell you that a paragraph should be five to seven sentences (or four to six, or four to seven), but the truth is that a paragraph is simply a collection of sentences that share a main topic. The more you read, and the more you write, the better you'll become at diagramming both sentences and paragraphs. For now, I'll give my suggestions:

i think i can wrote:James spluttered and coughed dirt into his hand. He lay, Strike the comma. prostrate on the floor in front of his favorite tavern, “The Full Keg”. After a boisterous row with the owner, Old Sam, he had been forcefully removed.
New paragraph: Change in perspective from why he is there, to what he is now doing.
Composing himself Comma. James looked back, staring straight into Sam’s accusing glare. When the inn door slammed shut, it scraped against the floor and kicked up a cloud of dirt and rust. Old Sam threw the deadbolt and turned back to the bar, his head shaking.
New paragraph: Change from Old Sam's view point to Jame's
James pleaded with his eyes Comma. knowing that, that Strike comma and change second "that" to "this". would be the last time he ever set foot in that bar, his haven again. Knowing that there would be nowhere to run from his worries anymore made him even wearier. More weary. Knowing that he would have to face reality he turned, rose to his feet and headed for home.
On his way Comma. he walked past small stores, No comma. and vendors who were closing their stalls for the night. Breathing in the rich aroma from the coffee sellers Comma. he purchased a cup, and raised the dark brew to his lips. The coffee cleared James’s head, allowing him to regain a measure of control over himself. Setting the cup back onto counter Comma. James handed the man a few dollars and with a hurried goodbye he walked away.
Without realizing it, James walked right into the commercial section of the small town. Unable to help himself, He pressed his face against the window pane of a shop window and peered inside.
New paragraph: switch from what James is doing to what the store looks like.
The store was dazzlingly lit, the light reflected off tassels that hung from the ceiling, in shades of gold and silver. Colorful Cloth covered every available space and every inch of James was green with envy. As James passed the front door Comma. the bellboy shot him a reproachful look, and his hand went to bar the door. Looking down at himself Comma. James understood why: his hat was stuffed into his coat pocket, his usually clean cut hair was unkempt and matted with dirt from his fall, and even his clothes were dirtied and pockmarked.
New paragraph: switch from appearance to his reaction.
He sighed deeply, and looked at the sign, “Toy Emporium”. His thoughts stumbled back to his daughter who was promised a present almost every single night by her fighting parents, this brought tears to his eyes and he promised that he would never touch another drop of alcohol as long as he lived. When James was under the influence he couldn’t be certain he could ensure his families safety… from himself.
Dragging his hand along the window pane silently, he stared inside again. Every person that saw James gave him either: Strike the colon. a pitying look or a disdainful one. Then and there, James decided to make things right once and for all, for himself and for his family. With a new purpose Comma. he quickened his pace and headed home, New sentence (switch from action to thought).for once he would not lie to his wife; he would look her in the eyes and tell her exactly where he had been and why. This thought gave him a bit more pep to his step, and he thought of his wife and child, waiting at home for him. He hurried onwards.
James passed down and out of the Financial Section he passed under a small arch, and along a dreary lane. He hugged the very edge of the road because it was still quite early and carts and trolleys still passed by regularly, some carrying very pompous officials who thought themselves too great or too rich to walk.
New paragraph: switch from officials to James (and movement of time).
Cutting a left past the “Dewnans and Family’s Bakery and Cakery”, coincidentally the same bakery he used. Stealing a quick wave at Mr. Dewnan as he crossed the road earned him a long list of unmentionable swear words, all pertaining to late fees on some bread and biscuits he had purchased on credit. James dashed along the Strike "the". High Street ( a road that cut the town into quarters, and caged the different districts into their own small area) taking care to, this time, avoid the carriages as they trampled past. The High Street worked like a great waterway, all roads eventually converged upon it and quickly flowed out again, into smaller lanes or alleyways all connected to the High Street.
After about a mile on this road he took a left and followed a winding path to the very edge of the city, New sentence. here near the great walls, were the poorest reaches… the slums. He could see his house from here; actually it wasn’t a house, after the recent pay cuts at the Precinct he was forced to rent a small apartment above a small family-owned washer house. The stink could be smelt half way up the street.
New paragraph: Change in time.
He was still reeling from the smell, when, Strike both commas. he felt a hand lock off his airway. An arm was slipped around his neck; he struggled to break free from the titanic grip. Someone jabbed him behind the knee and he collapsed into their arms… Strike the ellipse: New sentence. unable to breathe in enough air and unable to struggle anymore, he gave into that beautiful release and slipped from consciousness.
New pargraph: switch in perspective.
It had grown dark and no-one but a flock of nosey sparrows noticed or heard the body of James Teal slump to the floor and get dragged into an alleyway.

James spluttered and coughed dirt into his hand. He lay, prostrate on the floor in front of his favorite tavern, “The Full Keg”. After a boisterous row with the owner, Old Sam, he had been forcefully removed. Composing himself James looked back, staring straight into Sam’s accusing glare. When the inn door slammed shut, it scraped against the floor and kicked up a cloud of dirt and rust. Old Sam threw the deadbolt and turned back to the bar, his head shaking. James pleaded with his eyes knowing that, that would be the last time he ever set foot in that bar, his haven again. Knowing that there would be nowhere to run from his worries anymore made him even wearier. Knowing that he would have to face reality he turned, rose to his feet and headed for home.
On his way he walked past small stores, and vendors who were closing their stalls for the night. Breathing in the rich aroma from the coffee sellers he purchased a cup, and raised the dark brew to his lips. The coffee cleared James’s head, allowing him to regain a measure of control over himself. Setting the cup back onto counter James handed the man a few dollars and with a hurried goodbye he walked away.
Without realizing it, James walked right into the commercial section of the small town. Unable to help himself, He pressed his face against the window pane of a shop window and peered inside. The store was dazzlingly lit, the light reflected off tassels that hung from the ceiling, in shades of gold and silver. Colorful Cloth covered every available space and every inch of James was green with envy. As James passed the front door the bellboy shot him a reproachful look, and his hand went to bar the door. Looking down at himself James understood why: his hat was stuffed into his coat pocket, his usually clean cut hair was unkempt and matted with dirt from his fall, and even his clothes were dirtied and pockmarked. He sighed deeply, and looked at the sign, “Toy Emporium”. His thoughts stumbled back to his daughter who was promised a present almost every single night by her fighting parents, this brought tears to his eyes and he promised that he would never touch another drop of alcohol as long as he lived. When James was under the influence he couldn’t be certain he could ensure his families safety… from himself.
Dragging his hand along the window pane silently, he stared inside again. Every person that saw James gave him either: a pitying look or a disdainful one. Then and there, James decided to make things right once and for all, for himself and for his family. With a new purpose he quickened his pace and headed home, for once he would not lie to his wife; he would look her in the eyes and tell her exactly where he had been and why. This thought gave him a bit more pep to his step, and he thought of his wife and child, waiting at home for him. He hurried onwards.
James passed down and out of the Financial Section he passed under a small arch, and along a dreary lane. He hugged the very edge of the road because it was still quite early and carts and trolleys still passed by regularly, some carrying very pompous officials who thought themselves too great or too rich to walk. Cutting a left past the “Dewnans and Family’s Bakery and Cakery”, coincidentally the same bakery he used. Stealing a quick wave at Mr. Dewnan as he crossed the road earned him a long list of unmentionable swear words, all pertaining to late fees on some bread and biscuits he had purchased on credit. James dashed along the High Street ( a road that cut the town into quarters, and caged the different districts into their own small area) taking care to, this time, avoid the carriages as they trampled past. The High Street worked like a great waterway, all roads eventually converged upon it and quickly flowed out again, into smaller lanes or alleyways all connected to the High Street.
After about a mile on this road he took a left and followed a winding path to the very edge of the city, here near the great walls, were the poorest reaches… the slums. He could see his house from here; actually it wasn’t a house, after the recent pay cuts at the Precinct he was forced to rent a small apartment above a small family-owned washer house. The stink could be smelt half way up the street.
He was still reeling from the smell, when, he felt a hand lock off his airway. An arm was slipped around his neck; he struggled to break free from the titanic grip. Someone jabbed him behind the knee and he collapsed into their arms… unable to breathe in enough air and unable to struggle anymore, he gave into that beautiful release and slipped from consciousness. It had grown dark and no-one but a flock of nosey sparrows noticed or heard the body of James Teal slump to the floor and get dragged into an alleyway.




this is a completely new version which i will work more on when i get time to, i tried to follow all of your advice.

thank you for your responce Avens, i am currently rewriting it completely and i will try and post it a bit later on today.


~just got to trust in the very thing we cant achieve, hold onto our dreams and keep trying~

Turns out that I have internet access after all, so I've come back for a second look.

Hokay.

As you've indicated that you're willing to spend time on this, I'm going to try and break this down, so that it's not all a rush and you actually retain some of what I'm trying to teach you.

Lesson Prequel: Capitalization and Punctuation
Lesson One: Sentence Structure
Lesson Two: Logic and reason
Lesson Three: Plot
Lesson Four: Character development
Lesson Five: Word choice

Don't say I didn't warn you.


Lesson Prequel: Capitalization and Punctuation

The power that any writer of fiction wields is his or her ability to change masks at the drop of a hat. By changing masks, I mean the ability to switch setting, plot, and character while still holding up the basic tenants of writing.
So what are the basic tenants?
Punctuation is the first. Capitalization is the second.
You cannot become a decent writer without a grasp of these two concepts. Yes, there are brilliant authors who break rules of punctuation and capitalization all the time-- but before you can break them, you must know them by heart.
So.
My challenge to you is to watch your own capitalization and punctuation when you write. Whenever you write. Yes, that includes writing outside of stories. Yes, that includes posting a review or a reply on these forums. Yes, that includes every email you send and every school project you turn in. I also want you to notice, especially in regards to punctuation, how a change can alter the reader's perception. How a comma can slow someone; how a period can stop; how a semicolon can lead them on. Because this is something that will take lots of time to work on, I will consider it an underlying lesson to be dealt with on your own time, and so will move on to Lesson One, which (more) directly deals with this book.


Lesson One: Sentence Structure

Read these:

1. In the spring, in the morning, Bob threw, across the field, a ball, at Max, his dog, who was a golden retriever, and he caught the ball and ran with it.

2. Bob threw a ball at his dog. His dog’s name was Max. Max was a golden retriever. Max caught the ball. Max ran with the ball. It was springtime. It was morning.

3. Soft spring grass, damp with morning dew, clung to Bob’s sneakers as he leaned back and hurled a rubber ball into the field. Max, his golden retriever, bounded through the heather, leaped into the air, and caught the bright plastic between his teeth.

Now these are pretty exaggerated examples, and pretty lame topics, but they still apply. At first your piece was entirely like example one; now a good part of it is like example two. The goal is to reach example three.

Sentence structure is an art, and it can take many years to learn the feel for how sentences work. The groundwork, however, is something that can be laid now, as you read and as you write, if you consciously work at it.

Let's have a look at your first three sentences:

1. The door slammed shut, grating across the wooden floor.

2. A lock was drawn across the door.

3. It spilt a cloud of rust and dirt under it, which diffused into the air.

Okay, at first glance I can see that sentence two seems out of place and choppy because of how short it is. Long sentences, such as this one and the one above, can get across a point in a conversational tone. Short sentences don't. They sound dramatic. They sound final. Sometimes, they sound cliche.

At second glance, one will notice that sentence three has a fuzzy meaning: the way it is written, the first pronoun "It" refers back to the lock, which was the last noun given action ("A lock was drawn"). The second "it" refers to... what exactly? The reader can't be sure whether you mean the lock or the door. The verb "diffused" then refers back to the last noun which is actually a pronoun and happens to be "it". Once again, the reader is at a loss to what is diffusing.

Let's try to make a smoother transition, combing all three lines.

What do we want?

We want a door slamming.
We want this door to make a sound against the floor.
We want a lock drawn.
We want dust to appear. (As I'm still not sure where the dust appears from, I will guess.)

When the inn door slammed shut, it scraped against the floor and kicked up a cloud of dirt and rust. Old Sam threw the deadbolt and turned back to the bar, his head shaking.

You will notice that I mentioned the inn, which helps the reader establish setting from the start, as well as "Old Sam", which helps develop character.

I still have some logical problems with the description, but logic will be dealt with once there is a handle on sentence structure.


Now, I will go through the rest of the first paragraph, highlighting issues with sentence structure:

The sign above the tavern shook in the proceeding rush of air, and the words “the Full Keg” were briefly illuminated in the lamplight.

Old Sam ,as he liked to call It, had always had the guards “removed” whenever their persistently, croaky ballads became a nuisance or they puked or spilt beer on someone’s shirt or dress.

Therefore James Teal ,a guard by nature and job description, wasn’t surprised to find himself sitting in the middle of the road, But it was, in fact, a pissing drunk James Teal, who had fallen over while chasing his tankard.

This had only been trying to escape its owner’s repugnant breath, rolling to a rest in the middle of the dusty street.

Spinning on its axis the tankard sloshed cheap wine all around.

When his patrol route had ended down the street from the Keg, he’d always be tempted by the alluring smell of Sam’s brew.

He would then escape into his haven with a couple of drinks in mind.

He would let the beer numb his thoughts, and for a while forget the argument he had had with his wife that and every morning, his awful career choice, and bitch and moan about his day to day life.

When a couple of beers became three, three became four and five, with more following in quick succession.

Old Sam, the patron, would simply take it that James had overstayed his welcome and kindly ask him to leave.

when kind words didn’t work he would simply turn to brute force.

Sam would just solicit one of the many goons that lurked in the shadows.

Who all in all fit the description of sinister and creepy quite nicely, and ask them to “escort” him out, which always ended with him either facedown in the mud outside or covered in dirt.

Hokay.

As you've indicated that you're willing to spend time on this, I'm going to try and break this down, so that it's not all a rush and you actually retain some of what I'm trying to teach you.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Lesson Prequel:

The power that any writer of fiction wields is his or her ability to change masks at the drop of a hat. By changing masks, I mean the ability to switch setting, plot, and character while still holding up the basic tenants of writing.
So what are the basic tenants?
Punctuation is the first. Capitalization is the second.
You cannot become a decent writer without a grasp of these two concepts. Yes, there are brilliant authors who break rules of punctuation and capitalization all the time-- but before you can break them, you must know them by heart.
So.
My challenge to you is to watch your own capitalization and punctuation when you write. Whenever you write. Yes, that includes writing outside of stories. Yes, that includes posting a review or a reply on these forums. Yes, that includes every email you send and every school project you turn in. I also want you to notice, especially in regards to punctuation, how a change can alter the reader's perception. How a comma can slow someone; how a period can stop; how a semicolon can lead them on. Because this is something that will take lots of time to work on, I will consider it an underlying lesson to be dealt with on your own time, and so will move on to Lesson One, which (more) directly deals with this book.

Lesson One:

Sentence Structure.

Read these:

1. In the spring, in the morning, Bob threw, across the field, a ball, at Max, his dog, who was a golden retriever, and he caught the ball and ran with it.

2. Bob threw a ball at his dog. His dog’s name was Max. Max was a golden retriever. Max caught the ball. Max ran with the ball. It was springtime. It was morning.

3. Soft spring grass, damp with morning dew, clung to Bob’s sneakers as he leaned back and hurled a rubber ball into the field. Max, his golden retriever, bounded through the heather, leaped into the air, and caught the bright plastic between his teeth.

Now these are pretty exaggerated examples, and pretty lame topics, but they still apply. At first your piece was entirely like example one; now a good part of it is like example two. The goal is to reach example three.

Sentence structure is an art, and it can take many years to learn the feel for how sentences work. The groundwork, however, is something that can be laid now, as you read and as you write, if you consciously work at it.

Let's have a look at your first three sentences:

1. The door slammed shut, grating across the wooden floor.

2. A lock was drawn across the door.

3. It spilt a cloud of rust and dirt under it, which diffused into the air.

Okay, at first glance I can see that sentence two seems out of place and choppy because of how short it is. Long sentences, such as this one and the one above, can get across a point in a conversational tone. Short sentences don't. They sound dramatic. They sound final. Sometimes, they sound cliche.

At second glance, one will notice that sentence three has a fuzzy meaning: the way it is written, the first pronoun "It" refers back to the lock, which was the last noun given action ("A lock was drawn"). The second "it" refers to... what exactly? The reader can't be sure whether you mean the lock or the door. The verb "diffused" then refers back to the last noun which is actually a pronoun and happens to be "it". Once again, the reader is at a loss to what is diffusing.

Let's try to make a smoother transition, combing all three lines.

What do we want?

We want a door slamming.
We want this door to make a sound against the floor.
We want a lock drawn.
We want dust to appear. (As I'm still not sure where the dust appears from, I will guess.)

When the inn door slammed shut, it scraped against the floor and kicked up a cloud of dirt and rust. Old Sam threw the deadbolt and turned back to the bar, his head shaking.

You will notice that I mentioned the inn, which helps the reader establish setting from the start, as well as "Old Sam", which helps develop character.

I still have some logical problems with the description, but logic will be dealt with once there is a handle on sentence structure.

Now, I will go through the rest of the first paragraph, highlighting issues with sentence structure:

The sign above the tavern shook in the proceeding rush of air, and the words “the Full Keg” were briefly illuminated in the lamplight.

Old Sam ,as he liked to call It, had always had the guards “removed” whenever their persistently, croaky ballads became a nuisance or they puked or spilt beer on someone’s shirt or dress.

I don't have the time to go over this just yet, but I'm glad that you spent the time to work on it. I'll be out of town for the next few days; on return, I'd be more than happy to give this a second edit.

The door slammed shut, grating across the wooden floor. A lock was drawn across the door. It spilt a cloud of rust and dirt under it, which diffused into the air. The sign above the tavern shook in the proceeding rush of air, and the words “the Full Keg” were briefly illuminated in the lamplight. Old Sam ,as he liked to call It, had always had the guards “removed” whenever their persistently, croaky ballads became a nuisance or they puked or spilt beer on someone’s shirt or dress. Therefore James Teal ,a guard by nature and job description, wasn’t surprised to find himself sitting in the middle of the road, But it was, in fact, a pissing drunk James Teal, who had fallen over while chasing his tankard. This had only been trying to escape its owner’s repugnant breath, rolling to a rest in the middle of the dusty street. Spinning on its axis the tankard sloshed cheap wine all around. When his patrol route had ended down the street from the Keg, he’d always be tempted by the alluring smell of Sam’s brew. He would then escape into his haven with a couple of drinks in mind. He would let the beer numb his thoughts, and for a while forget the argument he had had with his wife that and every morning, his awful career choice, and bitch and moan about his day to day life. When a couple of beers became three, three became four and five, with more following in quick succession. Old Sam, the patron, would simply take it that James had overstayed his welcome and kindly ask him to leave. when kind words didn’t work he would simply turn to brute force. Sam would just solicit one of the many goons that lurked in the shadows. Who all in all fit the description of sinister and creepy quite nicely, and ask them to “escort” him out, which always ended with him either facedown in the mud outside or covered in dirt.
He steadied himself by putting his arms out in front of him and shifting his weight onto his lower legs, all the while moaning and whining just loud enough for Sam to hear. Testing the weight his legs could support he lurched upright and stabilized himself and headed in the general direction of home.
After a block or so, James movements became more agitated and any onlooker could have told that something was wrong, all drunkenness leaving him he began to make harsher more sudden footfalls to try and detect any pursuers. Because he knew that any sound which broke his rhythmical footfall was a sure sign that he was being followed. He tried to quell the panic that was rising in his throat. “There’s no one there” he kept repeating again and again in his head, reassuring himself that being a law enforcer alone, Usually scared most people off. Despite this, he turned his head slightly, almost regretfully noticing a fleeting silhouette as it slipped into the shadows. Completely possessed by panic he began to run blindly, his vision dipping in and out of focus, the streetlights temporarily blinding him as he passed them. With James’s vision impaired, he failed to notice the elderly man as he shuffled across the lane. As the sparkles from James’s eyes cleared, he could see the old man clearly; almost too clearly. His hunched form was supported by a polished wooden cane gripped in a gnarled, swollen-jointed hand that was covered by translucent, liver-spotted skin. Nothing could be seen of his face as the lamp was directly above him and its light cast a harsh shadow on his visage and upper chest. Closing the gap James was on top of poor old man and could not stop for fear of falling over. The elderly man halted, and stared past James oblivious to the oncoming stamped. The elderly man’s eyes were blank and vacant and his mouth was fixed in an eternal leer , hanging open slightly as if he had lost basic motor capabilities. He lifted the cane high above his head and, before James could defend himself or turn away, struck, knocking the wind from James completely. Completely unprepared for a blow of that magnitude from so frail a person, an explosion of pain threatening to overload James senses.Finally giving into that beautiful release of consciousness he blacked out.




The lamp creaked as it rocked in the rising wind, and as it swayed, patches of light illuminated a little girl as she appeared by the old man’s side, snapping her fingers she walked straight into the pitch blackness No sound rose as the girl walked deeper and deeper into the darkness, it seemed to cushion and absorb her treads. calling to the man who was dragging James by the head and following her (like a subdued pet).she snapped again and both herself and her entourage were gone


~ i have tried to do all that you suggested.i agree with what you were saying on many,many points~

thank you for responding, hehe yeh i have some major punctuation problems don't i? i am currently working on that,yet i do wish to spend the time it takes to make this...into something worth reading.

i value your response.

i will edit it,according to what you have stated,hope to hear from you soon.

Comments in red.

i think i can wrote:The door slammed shut, grating slightly across the wooden floor. Avoid adverbs when at all possbile; besides, something either grates or it doesn't, right?A lock is drawn across Across what? Across the door? Be specific. Also, your tense has just switched, and across needs a comma following it.spilling a cloud of rust and dirt under the door, difusing into the air it is lost from sight.The door is lost from sight? You use a lot of pronouns, which muddy the meanings of your descriptions. This entire line is pretty confusing The sign above the tavern shook in the proceeding rush of air, and the words “the full keg” were briefly illuminated in the lamplight.The tavern's name should be capitalizedOld Sam had always had him “removed”, as he liked to call it, whenever his persistently, croaky ballads became a nuisance or he puked or spilt beer on someone’s shirt or dress.Who is him? And does Old Sam or the him like to call it "removed"? Therefore it wasn’t exactly a surprised James Teal that found himself sitting in the middle of the road."Therefore James Teal wasn't surprised to find himself sitting in the middle of the road".But it was, in fact, a pissing drunk James tealCapitalize his name., who had only managed to sit there because he had fallen over while chasing a tankard, having been trying to escape its owner’s repugnant breath, rolling to a rest in the middle of the dusty street, sloshing cheap wine all around itWoah. Woah. Stop. This line has, what, seven clauses? Slow down and simplify.. Now you must understand this was not an odd occurrence for him ,every note the spacing of your commatime his patrol route happened to end somewhere near the Full Keg he’d always prolong going home and dealing with his beautiful, but nightmarish wife by escaping to his haven with a couple of drinks in mindSomething along the lines of "His patrol route had ended down the street from the Keg, and everytime that happened stopped in for a couple of drinks." and then soemthing about his wife in the next line.. When a couple became three, three became four and five, with more following in quick succession, Old Sam ,the patron, would simply take it that he’d That Sam had over stayed the welcome? Watch your pronouns!overstayed his welcome and kindly ask him to leave, when that didn’t work, which he obviously knew beforehand"when that didn't work, which he obviously knew beforehand"...what? What happened when it didn't work?. He’d just solicit one of the many goons that lurked in the shadowsAh. James would? Sam would?
, drinking from kegs and concealing their faces, with either elaborate headscarves or black skull caps with hanging veilscut the comma. Who all in all fit the description of sinister and creepy quite nicely, to escort him out, which always ended poorly, with him either facedown in the mud outside or covered in dirtYou have three sentences here, but none of them are really complete or sensical sentences. It's as if you took a huge whopper of a line and just stuck periods in randomly.. The bartenders gravely chuckle rolled over him as he lay prostrated on the floor.Who is "he"?
He steadied himself by putting his arms out in front of him and shifting his weight onto his lower legs, all the while moaning and whining just loud enough for Sam to hear. Testing the weight his legs could support he lurched upright and stabilized himself.Who is "he"?!
After making a mental calculation of time, weather and route he began staggering in the general direction of home. He sauntered wistfully, whistling happily, with a carefree lumber of the kind one gets from too many drinks, or thinking they’ve had too many drinks...Those who have too many drinks often are not thinking. I don't understand this description.. “Funny stuff alcohol’ he thought as a grin stretched across his pudgy chinThe human mouth is not on the chin. It's above the chin, on the face., “makes you feel all tingly inside.”I don't think that someone who's had eight drinks and is "pissing drunk" can think this clearly.But the casual pursuer I don't think that "pursuer" is the word you're intendingwould have noted that he didn’t sway like a drunkard, stop to puke every few steps or mumble things he’d regret the next dayAnd yet he's pissing drunk?. Strict military training left his body in the care of a section of his mind that was marked by thick yellow warning lights and roped off in caution tapeThis line is very winding. When he was drunkComma his mind reset, New linewhen he was drunkComma, his instincts took over.
After a block or so commahis You have still not stated who the "he" ismovements became more agitated and any onlooker could have told that something was wrong, all drunkenness leaving him he began to make harsher more sudden footfalls to try and detect any pursuers, knowing that any sound that broke his rhythmical pattern was a sure sign that he was being stalkedSlow down! Read that line aloud in one breath. I dare you.. He tried to quell the panic that was rising in his throat. “tCapitalize!here’s no one there” he kept repeating again and again in his head, reassuring himself that being a law enforcer alone You have an extra space here.usually scared most people off. Despite this Commahe turned his head slightly, almost regretfully noticing a fleeting silhouette as it slipped into the shadows. Completely possessed by panic and self producedHe just saw someone following him. His anxiety is no longer self-produced. anxiety he began to run blindly, his imageHis "vision" you mean? Unless he is physically going in and out of focus... dipping in and out of focus, flaring wildly with the streetlights and dimming with the darknessSo many, many adverbs.. He couldn’t explain it, he couldn’t stop all of his courage had been sapped from his body and he felt cold, so coldThis line needs rephrasing. His teeth started to shudder and his eyes scrunched up as the cold became unbearable even painful to bear withIs it unbearable or mearly painful? There is a difference..
He failed to notice the man What man?as he shuffled across the lane, bent double by his arduous burden of age and gravity combined; suddenly he stood illuminated by a flare from the dying light of the lamppostAck! What is going on?!. His James's?!?hunched form was supported by a polished wooden cane gripped in a gnarled, swollen-jointed hand that was covered by translucent, liver-spotted skin, New line.nothing could be seen of his face as the lamp was directly above him and its light cast a harsh shadow on his visage and upper chestI thought the light was dying.... Closing the gap rapidlyAnother adverb! James was nearlyAdverb! on top of him Him who?!?and could not stop for fear of falling over. The elderly man halted, and stared past James oblivious to the oncoming stamped"oncoming stamped" is not a phrase.. His Whose?!eyes were blank and vacant and his mouth was fixed in an eternal leer Commacondemning all those who looked upon him, hanging open slightly as if he had lost basic motor capabilities. He lifted the cane high above his head and, before James could defend himself or turn away, struck, knocking the wind from James completely. He could actually hear the sound as some of his ribcages cracked under the pressureDoes he really have multiple ribcages, or merely multiple ribs?. Completely unprepared for a blow of that magnitude from so frail a person he gaspedWho gasped?!?, an explosion of pain threatened threateningto overload his sensesComma! sending his brain reeling as spasm after relentless spasm hit him. Finally giving into that beautiful release release of what?!? Also, you need a comma.he blacked out. color=red]Who?!?[/color]





The lamp creaked as it rocked in the rising wind, andas it swayedComma patches of light illuminated a little girl as she appeared by the old manapostrophes side, snapping her fingers she walked straight into the pitch blackness that acted as both a shroud and a blanket, blocking all light from entering the pitch dark alley way which she had just so calmly enteredOuch. Slow. Down.. No sound rose as she "the girl"walked deeper and deeper into the blackness, it seemed to cushion and absorb her foot, calling to the man who was dragging James by the head and following her like a subdued pet, New line.she snapped again and both the girl"herself", unless someone else snapped. and her entourage were swallowed by the voidWhat void?. high Capitalize!above Comma!a candle was snuffed out and the world was plunged into darkness once again.