Young Writers Society

Hey Manilla! I'm excited to read and review this, so let's just get into it.

Grammar and Syntax:

*all alterations made by me are in bold and I change/add things on when I feel it's needed

Pale blue eyes fluttered open, the only light in the darkness. There was nothing but black. Blackness and a sterile, regulated cold. That was all he saw.
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The boy could not move, nor could he turn his head to see what was going on around him. It wasn't that there was something there to block or stop him, but it just seemed impossible to do at the that fleeting moment (We already know that the boy can't move so when you say that he can't turn his head either, it's repetitious). His mouth was sealed shut by something, and there was not the slightest of sounds to be heard. He didn't know where he was or who put him in this situation there. Confusion wrapped around the boy in a barbed snare.
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He had to get out. He had to run.
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Struggling to open his mouth, the boy strained against the invisible forces pressed against his bare skin (Ah, so earlier when reading, "His mouth was sealed shut by something" I had wondered if it was a physical sense he was getting aka the feeling of something on his mouth or if it was that when he tried to speak it was like his lips were shut. And then here we have you mentioned that "something" is "invisible". It's a little odd. I would mention that that something is invisible the first time you mentioned it). Finally, his jaw suddenly unclenched, and the boy took a gasp of air.
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The scent of chemicals wafted around him, alien and foreign to his nose and tongue. Yet the oddity left was that...Why couldn't he see anything? (This sentence is a little odd and weird to understand but I'm not sure if it needs to be reworded or not. I thought I'd still mention it though).
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He willed himself to say a word, he willed himself to speak. What came out moments later was a hoarse, desperate cry, "Hello?"

The boy heard himself speak for the first time. Fragile and alone. Vulnerable. Weak. Singled out. (Too many short copy sentences that are just saying the same thing). No one, or no thing answered him for the first time (Do you mean the first time in his life or no one answered the first time he called out but later answered him? The wording of this is confusing and the meaning is unclear). This place was so, so far from home. (How does he know this is place is so far from home? Does he know it's location?)

Access granted.

"Could you repeat that?"

Access granted.

This That voice...Was it merely a part of his drifting consciousness? Or was it a voice that bothered to talk to him in the darkness? (I find this sentence weird. I don't know using the word "bothered" and just the way it's written. I think it should be like: Or was it a voice? And why did it bother to talk to him in the darkness?) No one the boy knew owned this voice, no one except for one person.
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But she was dead, and he would never see her again.
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And then Suddenly, to the boy's surprise, a single white point formed in proximity. The boy reached out in vain to touch it, realizing now that he could finally move (This would be a good place to describe how he is feeling. Is his body sore? What does it feel like to be suddenly boundless from the invisible forces that were holding him captive?). His index finger and the single point met, and a blinding explosion of light and color came from it (This is a beautiful sentence of imagery but the "came from it" is bland and weakened it. I think: "and a blinding light and color exploded into the air" or something like this).

In the swirling matrix of colors, shifting hexagonal patterns, and lines of code streaming in a pale blue, the boy stood still (Wow, this is some pretty imagery). Flashes and Glimpses into other worlds and realms came and went in purely ephemeral flashes. The boy saw things no one else had saw seen before (Things like what? The readers don't want to be left in the dark); Thousands and millions of things, whether they were living, dead, or possible figments of his imagination. All gone in a single moment. Spinning lights dizzied him as he stumbled forward, his legs weak and exhausted.

The boy outstretched his pale, left palm, and a glowing ring of white circled around his wrist. His name, age, and gender wrapped around the ring, the words and numbers slowly rotating around it.

//Alister Lydall

//Age 15

//Male

Was this the person he had to play? The role? The act that would only go on for so long? Or was it a fragment of him that stayed beyond the first moments he remembered in this void. (These questions are started to get repetitive. The first question is essential but I wonder, are the other two needed?)

Do you accept?

Alister rendered the voice in his head vaguely famine (Famine?), soft and gentle with traces of earth.

"I accept," Alister exhaled, and his eyes closed.

Welcome to Sonderland.

Alister nearly screamed at the familiarity of the name. (Screaming is a weird reaction to familiarity).

***

Madeira Hattable poured herself a cup of steaming Earl Gray milk tea (You mean Earl Grey tea with milk in it right? I'm an avid tea drinker and I've never heard of milk tea before. Is that like boba tea or something?), dumping the scalding hot liquid down her throat (Wouldn't that burn her throat? Is that normal? Does she have like magical powers or something because a normal human being would wait for the tea to cool a little). She smacked her lips, put her hands on her hips and flipped a wavy, multicolored pigtail. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror through the burn (The burn? Do you mean how the tea burned her throat?). Presentable enough, she thought, and walked over to the door.
(You need mention somewhere here where the Cheshire cat was. Did she open the door and see him there? If so, write that.)
"Oh! Cheshie!" Madeira squealed, embracing her best friend, who only stiffened as a result.

"Don't call me that," the Cheshire Cat grumbled, but hugged her friend back nonetheless. Madeira giggled, took her hand, and pulled the Cheshire Cat's hand into the living room of her suite.

"So, what brings you here today?" chirped Madeira, who was pouring a cup of tea for Cheskaire, "Because someone's in an unusually bad mood."

"You don't usually have a male, blond Alice look-a-like crashing into your house day by day every day," Cheskaire responded, grimly.

(Write something about Madeira assumingly shocked response or expression and then end the chapter).

Please feel free to ignore my advice, it is just advice. It is not intended to hurt you or to be mean, it no meant to demine your story or make it seem bad that said . . .
1. What I liked
I love your creativity how you mention darkness at the start of the story is awesome.
2. Flow & Style
Your style was okay but your flow . . .was a bit choppy. You start out by calling him he the boy and him it get's a little odd. Secant you seem to jump into the secant part so quick and it doesn't make sense with the above paragraph. Your ending seemed abrupt far to quick. It doesn't seem complete
2. Character & Character develoupment.
Your characters . . .seem to have little character. Just traces of it. You might want to give them a little more. I think it should really help readers get into it more. There really doesn't seem to be much of a story here either consider fixing that?
3. Overall and encouragement
Great job quite interesting. I am looking forword to this.