Working Title

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression: Okay...so this was sort of a bit of a boring start here. It started off with some excitement but that died down quickly and after that it never really took off and I don't know if this is all that effective as far as a first chapter goes.

Anyway let's get right to it,

It was early afternoon in the Dales. Wild dark-green grass stooped under its own weight, sagging more and more as it got nearer to the edge of a slow, shallow stream. The water was almost still, with patches of algae clinging on to the water's edge. Here and there, rocks poked through its surface, bathing in the last of the autumn sun. On the opposite shoreline stood a dense wood, where damp, dead trees drooped, broken, casting shadows which fell silently onto their unspoken neighbours.

On both sides of the water, the ground was pimpled with trees, and covered with lush wild grasses. A dark figure began to emerge out of the dark shadows cast by the sycamores. The soft thud of his boots, cushioned by the dark green carpet, although barely audible, was the only sound.

A man emerged from the wilderness and into the open, pushing hanging branches outwards, like a pair of wild curtains as he stepped into the threshold. The man was slender and small, he was of bony nose and hands, whose veins bulged under the surface of his rough skin. Behind him walked a shaggy black dog, whose mane had been ruffled on the path through the bush.

He strolled towards the stream. His dog overtook him, galloping like a horse to drink.

“Hey, hey,” said the man. His voice had a calmness that suggested he’d left the rat race long ago. “Hey!” he repeated more sternly as the dog lapped at the black water. At once, the animal stopped gulping and ran back to his master who stroked his head without looking at him. The man's distant eyes looked out to the far mountains in the south, whose blunted peaks arched over the landscape, smothering the misty fields beneath in shadow.

The man crouched by the water and pulled aimlessly at a thick weed. The plant stayed firm in the earth. He tried again, and with a little more strength, he dragged it out, the bulb clinging to its moist, brown shell, its exposed roots pale and bare. The soil fell like raindrops from the weed, destined for the earth. Why did he do that? Why waste effort on such a pitiful act? With a flimsy throw, the plant hit the water with a small, dirty splash. Waves of filth rippled along the surface and reluctantly swam away, eventually breaking against the rocks dotted along the water’s edge.

He sat contently and felt his anxiety be released with nothing but a gentle wave of his hand. He began to doze.

The afternoon grew older and colder as one animal after another retreated back to their home in the wild. The drop in temperature woke the man, so he just sat. He ran his fingers through the dog’s knotted hair, but still never looked down at the animal. Once again, the man had no place in the world, no home to return to, or family to love. He was nothing.

The sun was just beginning its descent, the darkness deepening; the sun rays receding on the mountains, bathing the hills in a gentle peach light. In the dying sunlight, the dead of the wood was exposed; the damp, the humid air of decomposing branches. But there the trees were, unmoving; they had given up and accepted their miserable fate.

The sun fell further, dropping behind the craggy peaks, into the blackness which swelled in the sky. And then, the only vehicle of warmth in that hostile place plunged beneath the horizon and only black filled the air, leaving the man staring, straining to see the peaks of those magnificent mountains again, but they had melted into the darkness.

Hey there, thatboy!

For a first chapter, not much happened to really hook the readers interest. That being said, the way you set the scene did it for me. Although there wasn't a mass of action, the most being a man and his dog walking out of the woods and to a stream, the fact that you took the time to set the scene so well kind of made up for it.

The dying trees and limp grass and gentle stream was so vivid in my mind that it was like I was there, listening to the water and the bird calls. You know you've managed to set a scene well when your reader can picture themselves there with the character.

'The man was slender and small, he was of bony nose and hands,' - 'of bony nose' doesn't really fit. It sounds too formal and kind of stuck out to me when I was reading. It jolted me out of the story and I had to read it again. A simple re-wording is all that you need.

'whose veins bulged under the surface'
'whose mane had been ruffled'
'whose blunted peaks arched over the landscape'

I know it's probably just your style of writing, but I did find the use of 'whose' to be verging on the point of overbearing. I guess all I can say is to maybe cut down on its usage so it doesn't notice as much. You probably don't even notice that you're doing it and that's okay. Just make sure to edit a few out if they're sentences apart.

I really admire the way that you can insert description into the piece so easily. I have trouble remembering to decribe sometimes, so I'm a little jealous of how well it seems to work for you. I will say that if the amount of description stays at this level for the next couple of chapters, it could become a little too much. A nice paragraph of description is great every once in a while but too much of a good thing can have the opposite effect. I'd like to see some more action and interaction in the next part.

I'm interested to see who the man is and what sort of journey he's on.

I hope this review helps and if you have any questions, post on my wall

xDudettex