|
|
Post by James on Nov 1, 2010 18:12:53 GMT -5
Excerpts from Of Phantoms and Fays, feedback would be most welcomed. Start of Chapter Four
The antique door bell rung through the otherwise silent house, drawing Lawrence’s brown eyes away from the book he was reading. Checking the dusty grandfather clock that stood against the middle of the dining room wall, he gazed somewhat puzzling as it neared midnight. They had yet to have a single visitor to the house since they moved in, excluding an unfortunate postman and now someone was calling upon the house in the middle of the night.
Knowing that Tywlk would not venture down from his study that he had inhabited for the past fortnight, Lawrence rose to his feet and marched into the hallway. Framed photographs dotted the wall, unknown smiling faces staring down at him, occasionally laughing through the glass. He had wished to take them down as soon as he killed the owners, but Tywlk had insisted upon keeping them up for appearances. Lawrence never understood the need for appearances.
He couldn’t help but grin as he swung the door back and let the visitor survey him for the first time. Short cropped blonde hair framed an unblemished face, the brown eyes betraying a hint of danger behind them. Tall and muscular, Lawrence’s form was hidden beneath a crisply ironed black suit, a white shirt contrasting against the navy blue tie that ran down to within the buttoned blazer. Polished black shoes glistened from the starry night sky, a watch glinting from the moonlight from just below his sleeve. Maybe he did care a little about appearances, Lawrence decided inwardly.
The same could not be said for the man who stood in front of him, dishevelled and foul smelling. Black rings jumped out from beneath his eyes, his nose slightly bent, a hint of blood staining the gap between nostrils and lip. His hair looked as if it hasn’t been washed in months, knotted and wild, his clothing in a similar state. A large tear ran down the side of faded blue t-shirt, grass and all other manner of stains running down the leg of his jeans.
“Hello,” Lawrence said in the politest tone he could muster, the rancid smell of rotten eggs drifting from the man in front of him.
“I... I... My parents, I-I thought they lived here,” the man stuttered, unmoving upon the front step of the house.
“Oh, the previous owners?” Lawrence said quickly, jumping smoothly into his acting skills. “Yes, they’ve only just moved out. I’ve just arrived last week, it is a lovely home, and quite cheap as well.”
“I... they didn’t tell me anything about moving,” the man said, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Do they tell you much,” Lawrence asked, making sure to cast an eye over the man’s sickly appearance.
“I... Yes... No... Wh- I mean, they’ve really gone?” the visitor asked, turning more from a man into a frightened little boy.
“Yes,” Lawrence replied, swiftly thinking upon his next course of action. He had convinced the man that his parents no longer lived in the house; he could simply send him away back into the drug addled world that he so clearly lived in. However, there was always a chance that there was another relative he could go to, more questions to be asked. It would involve far less risk to just dispose of him now; no one would likely miss him. And simply it would just be more fun.
“I think I have the address of their new home in the real estate folder,” Lawrence lied, his face forming itself into a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t you come in, have a bite to eat and I’ll give you their new address and you can be on your way.”
Lawrence recognised the conflict upon the man’s face, his teeth sneaking out to chew upon his bottom lip while his hands fidgeted against each other. The temptation of information and free food was too much for him to turn down, his tongue running swiftly across his top lip. It was pathetic, Lawrence thought bitterly, just like the rest of humanity that he had grown up in.
“Um, okay,” the man said, moving from the step for the first time in their encounter and stepping through the door, which was swung shut behind him.
“Just through into the dining room, do you know the way?” Lawrence asked, turning the key within the lock, the click faintly ringing throughout the house.
It took only a second for Lawrence to realise his mistake as he turned to face the man who stood rooted in the hallway. His eyes were locked onto the photographs running up and down the walls, some of the faces, although cleaner and healthier, clearly resembled his own. The man swung upon the spot, fists clenched and outstretched in front of him like a boxer as he faced Lawrence.
“Oops,” Lawrence smiled, shrugging with a well-timed wink. “I forgot that you would have recognised those, how very silly of me. I tell you what; I’m quite embarrassed about the whole thing.”
“What have you done?” the man whispered through gritted teeth, his voice shaking slightly. “Where are my parents?”
“In the garden,” Lawrence answered. “We originally put them in the cupboard under the stairs, but the smell got so appalling as they decayed that we had to move them for the sake of the next resident of this house. I mean, it really started to smell, even worse than your stench right now.”
The man teetered upon the spot, blinking rapidly, sweat running down his brow and into his eyes. His knuckles became white, the rest of his skin quickly following as his resolve visibly cracked before Lawrence’s very eyes. He gave one final glance at the lock door that Lawrence stood in front of before leaping towards the dining room, mud flying from his flopping trainers, landing upon the cream carpet beneath him.
“Why must you always run,” Lawrence sneered, snatching a cane from the umbrella stand and swinging it in the direction that the man was heading to.
The hair upon Lawrence’s arms rose as the magic hovering in the air drew towards him, focussing itself around the length of sleek, polished, black cane. He kept it in restraint for a moment, letting it gather force, before hurling the bolt of magic directly into the man’s path. He nearly reached the dining room door, hand outstretched to reach the doorknob, before the attack flung him into the air and hard into the wall behind him, the plaster cracking from the force of the impact.
The sound of screams and snapping bones melded into the loud bang as flesh met wall, the man collapsing to the floor in a heap. He turned slightly, unable to raise his head as gurgling sounds of anguish still escaped from his mouth, threatening to escape through the cracks of the house. With another flick of Lawrence’s cane, silence was restored, no sound escaping from the still screaming mouth.
“People make such a racket when they’re about to die, don’t they?” Lawrence asked, bearing down upon the broken figure in front of him. “No consideration from you, is there? The next door neighbours are probably trying to sleep, you know.”
Lawrence continued to draw nearer, noticing that the man was now slightly gasping, struggling to draw breath, his hands clutching desperately at the strands of carpet beneath him. There was a pleading look in his wet eyes, trying to lock onto Lawrence’s humanity, trying to beg for survival. It made him sick, having to watch the final weak moments of a person’s life nearly took away from the joy of ending it all in the first place.
“Oh, are your lungs pierced?” Lawrence asked, his tone dripping in insincerity, the man frantically trying to nod his head as his face began to turn blue, blood flowing steadily from his nose.
“Well... I had been planning on killing you painfully, but I guess this will actually work out quite well without any more effort,” Lawrence said, giving the man one final grin before turning his back to survey the photographs once more.
|
|
|
|
Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Nov 2, 2010 10:24:36 GMT -5
Fuck that was awesome, Agro! <3
|
|
|
|
Post by James on Nov 6, 2010 0:05:28 GMT -5
Robbie gasped for every breath, his lungs encased in fire as he yelled internally through the pain. His strong arms felt like lead, moving only out of habit with every tweak of his muscles. The feeling was dulled as blood thundered through his veins, his heart beating ever quicker. Sweat poured freely into his blue eyes, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to stop the excruciating stinging. His brown hair dangled across his face, like a carrot in front of him as his legs stretched out in front of him.
His head turned to the left, a spraying mist of water striking his face, before snapping around to look to his right. Only two people rowed in front of him, the hull of his dark green boat gliding through the water sending ripples back to the rest of the field. Already the boats behind him looked little more than like dots in horizon, slipping away from the blistering pace that they had set. He too, though, was falling away from the leaders.
He had so wanted to beat the two boys in front of him, public school boys that desperately needed a beating, even if he was a grammar school pupil himself. They had arrived in posh cars; boats sleekly polished and privately owned compared to his own slightly dirtied school boat. Insincere offers of luck had only sealed the deal before they had clambered into their boats and the starting gun was fired.
Another stab shot through his muscle, his body pleading with him to slow as the ores smashed into the water choppily. He was losing his stroke, he was losing his fight as his throat blistered with rawness, his tongue swirling madly to try and return some moisture to his mouth. Every movement in his arms intensified the pain, its tendrils seeping down from shoulder to fingertips. The leaders had still looked calm, leisurely rowing down the river as his own actions became more and more erratic with each passing second. His mind taunted the eventual outcome in front of him; he knew that he was going to lose.
“Row! Faster, Robbie!”
Robbie eyes sought out the voice, Louise’s form jogging alongside the riverside, her hair fanning behind her in the wind. Her cheeks were slightly pink from the morning chill, a smile nevertheless upon her face. The pain throughout his body momentarily vanished as Robbie grinned back, almost laughing at the sight of her keeping up with the boats, arms clumsily bouncing around her sides.
“You can win!” she screamed from the bank, pulling up winded.
Nodding despite himself, Robbie’s arms began to move more fluently again, his mind closing to the world around him. Deep inside himself he began to search through his body, second by second breaking down the tension and pain within his muscles. The boat began to move quickly, the ores now sliding powerfully through the blue-green water of the river. He felt freer, a second wind enveloping him as gradually his body felt anew as if the race had only started.
Allowing his eyes to open for a moment, he noticed that he was growing level with the rear of the second boat, water freely flying through the air. A lion’s roar emerged from his throat, propelling him forward several metres through the water. Concentrating on only putting up mental buffers against the pain, Robbie’s arms continued to power the boat forward, lurching it level with the amazed boy beside him.
A mist of upset water had now settled over them, enshrouding them from view as the race neared its end, the respective ores crashing into the water. A burst of triumphant shot through his body as Robbie noticed that he was pulling ahead, his enemy slipping behind him with every stroke. Swinging his head across his shoulder, both the other boat and the taunting yellow buoys that marked the finish line drew closer.
“Come on!” he yelled to himself, the sound barely breaking across the thundering of the three boats.
For one glorious moment, Robbie thought he had done enough, that he had caught the leader before he realised he had simply ran out of time. As his boat rocketed nearer to first, both of them had swept cleanly through the finish line, the public school boy dropping his ores to pump his fists into the air.
Heartbroken and dejected, Robbie lowered his forehead against his knees, the pain flooding back as his mental defences broke down. He had so nearly won. He was so close. Then his eyes caught the face of the other public school boy, features twisted in anger at being beaten to second and he looked up into the crowd. His coach was ecstatic, screaming something about being bloody fantastic, Edith standing next to him slightly perturbed as she clapped reservedly, a warm smile still plastered across her face. And racing to catch up, grinning with her arms in the air was Louise. Allowing the laughter and happiness to break through his parched lips, Robbie rolled to the side and let himself fall into the icy cold yet refreshing river.
|
|
The Drall
Junior Author
Legal Property of AWR
Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.
Posts: 3,796
|
Post by The Drall on Nov 6, 2010 15:22:27 GMT -5
((I feel as if every time I read something of yours, you get so much better, it's incredible. Seriously, I don't think I have any complaints -at all-. Grammar seemed pretty spot on, it was really interesting, descriptions were fantastic...I don't know what to say. Good job?))
|
|
|
|
Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Nov 6, 2010 17:55:47 GMT -5
Dayum! Okay. Not really much I can say. The descriptions were amazing! Absolutely amazing. I could clearly imagine the pain he was suffering, and the excitement as he found his second-wind, and then the dejected feeling. Having him fall in the water was also a great ending. I also liked the notes about how he blocked the pain mentally. It really built a picture for me.
Only really one thing I could pick on:
This paragraph was difficult for me to digest. I'm not entirely sure why. After reading the rest of the snippet I also felt like it let the side down. I wanted some more envy and hatred to show through! I wanted more emotion. If he had explained more about how different their lives were it would have made it better, perhaps? It needs looking at, I think?
(Also, and I may be wrong, aren't the Grammar schools "posher" than the Public schools? I wonder if you have this back-to-front? But I could be wrong >.>)
|
|
|
|
Post by James on Nov 6, 2010 18:00:15 GMT -5
Only really one thing I could pick on: This paragraph was difficult for me to digest. I'm not entirely sure why. After reading the rest of the snippet I also felt like it let the side down. I wanted some more envy and hatred to show through! I wanted more emotion. If he had explained more about how different their lives were it would have made it better, perhaps? It needs looking at, I think? (Also, and I may be wrong, aren't the Grammar schools "posher" than the Public schools? I wonder if you have this back-to-front? But I could be wrong >.>) Yeah, I felt that was bit lacking there. Will have to keep that in mind for later. And, grammar school boys can be as posh as public schoolboys, but we earn the poshness, not inherit it. Speaking from experience, most of us from my school came from the lower middle classes. ... We're like pretend upper class. *sage nod* |
|
|
|
Post by Janaril on Nov 6, 2010 18:02:45 GMT -5
(( Nice piece, Agro. As one who rows crew, I have to say I like this a lot.
The description was -great- not much more to say there. Indeed, on the subject of description, spelling, grammar, emotion, you have it down, so I'm not even going to address that. You're good at it, but there are a few things that came to mind.
For the story itself, it seemed just a bit... I don't want to say 'cliche', because that has such a negative connotation around here, but it was 'expected'. I can't tell you how many storylines I've watched/read where the male protagonist receives a sudden renewal of strength and vigor at the encouraging cry of a female friend/love interest/etc. The fact that he lost in the end was... maybe a twist... but to me there was no surprise, shock value or 'ah!' factor here, it ended pretty much how I thought it would. (Granted, there really were only three available endings in such a storyline, so it comes down mostly to how well it's written, and you wrote it quite well.)
Aside from that, I have one question regarding a line from the piece.
I gathered from the entire piece that they are racing in skulls, but to me this almost implied that Robbie is somehow... looking forwards while he rows? Unless you meant that he turned to look ahead again, this just gave me pause for a moment, because rowing while racing forwards is not something you can really do, or at least, do with any hope of competition in a competition (shells aren't even built to allow that)
But overall I certainly liked it, a good piece and a very good read. ))
|
|
|
|
Post by James on Nov 6, 2010 18:07:54 GMT -5
Yeah, I realised the cliched-ness of it but decided to go along with it anyway, it opens up the relationship between the two and secondly, as later explained on, his second wind wasn't only from seeing Louise. This might be the first sign that something is awakening inside him.
And on the rowing part, yeah, a couple of time I got a bit distracted with deciding whether I should call the boats behind him in the race... behind him, because they're actually in front. But I thought for the sake of non-rowing readers, I'd try and keep it as simple as forward. But I'll edit that last one you brought up to properly make sure it's clear.
|
|
|
|
Post by Meleta/Isoldaa on Nov 6, 2010 21:16:06 GMT -5
(( Hmmm... Since Jan and Drall already spoke up about your latest excerpt, I'll jump backward to the first. Wonderfully descriptive! The word pictures you were able to conjure were spot on - especially with the comment that:
"Maybe he did care a little about appearances... "
That small amount of insight there, was just the right amount of reflection (or perhaps, lack thereof? XD) for this villain.
The dichotomy you set up, between the griminess of the "prodigal son" and the sharp, crisp appearance of Lawrence was perfect. I especially enjoyed the imagery you gave, with the black shoes that gleamed in the starlight, and the watch that shimmered in the moonlight.
There is never a problem reading your work - the ease of read and natural flow are naturally quite good (especially since I know this is a Nano piece - no editing allowed until much later! XD )
The only two things I'd point out are fairly simple, and mostly brought up to offer something in the way of "constructive."
There were a few points where I thought perhaps you could have used a bit of word economy, and not lost anything for the reader. Just by way of examples:
The first was in that quote I inserted above, where there was probably no need to have added afterward, "... Lawrence decided inwardly." The fact that we are experiencing this piece from Lawrence's viewpoint in the main, would seem to make that obvious. There were a few other spots in the narrative, that could have probably been pared down, and still been just as sharp.
And another, where Lawrence is about to kill the young man, when he says, “We originally put them in the cupboard under the stairs, but the smell got so appalling as they decayed that we had to move them for the sake of the next resident of this house. I mean, it really started to smell, even worse than your stench right now.”
The portion where he states, "... as they decayed... " would seem to be superfluous, especially followed by the offhanded insult about the guy's hygeine. (UNLESS this type of loquaciousness and seemingly random, overly chatty and flippant cruelty to a complete stranger is a part of Lawrence's personality? Since this is an excerpt, it would be hard for me to be sure.)
I was also wondering too, about the purpose of showing the reader this murder? I read a lot of crime dramas (my husband's a nut for them XD), and the one thing I notice: the good ones do show the serial killer/bad guy murdering someone, but usually only if there is a reason, to further the plot somehow or another (character exposition, the development of a foible/strength unknown before; maybe it's his first, and he's yet to perfect the "technique" - or even to show his craft is "improving" (eep >< ); to point out a crucial mistake made by the killer; or maybe a way the victim somehow got "the last word," or a form of revenge against their murderer, etc.).
Meanwhile, the other murder in the story are generally shown through the eyes of the key characters/protagonists, on say an autopsy table? In a case file? During a blotter briefing or in a crime scene or... yada yada yada, you get the idea. XD
I read and re-read your piece, and by the end - though I absolutely did enjoy it - I wasn't entirely sure why I (the reader) was allowed to see that particular death, or even able to find a hint as to why it was important to the overall picture?
But without a doubt your piece is wonderfully solid and well-crafted, Agro. Beautifully done - on both of your excerpts - and I'm so excited to see the more "final" project come together (finally! XD hehe ) )) |
|
|
|
Post by James on Nov 6, 2010 21:43:53 GMT -5
(( Hmmm... Since Jan and Drall already spoke up about your latest excerpt, I'll jump backward to the first. Wonderfully descriptive! The word pictures you were able to conjure were spot on - especially with the comment that:
"Maybe he did care a little about appearances... "
That small amount of insight there, was just the right amount of reflection (or perhaps, lack thereof? XD) for this villain.
The dichotomy you set up, between the griminess of the "prodigal son" and the sharp, crisp appearance of Lawrence was perfect. I especially enjoyed the imagery you gave, with the black shoes that gleamed in the starlight, and the watch that shimmered in the moonlight.
There is never a problem reading your work - the ease of read and natural flow are naturally quite good (especially since I know this is a Nano piece - no editing allowed until much later! XD )
The only two things I'd point out are fairly simple, and mostly brought up to offer something in the way of "constructive."
There were a few points where I thought perhaps you could have used a bit of word economy, and not lost anything for the reader. Just by way of examples:
The first was in that quote I inserted above, where there was probably no need to have added afterward, "... Lawrence decided inwardly." The fact that we are experiencing this piece from Lawrence's viewpoint in the main, would seem to make that obvious. There were a few other spots in the narrative, that could have probably been pared down, and still been just as sharp.
And another, where Lawrence is about to kill the young man, when he says, “We originally put them in the cupboard under the stairs, but the smell got so appalling as they decayed that we had to move them for the sake of the next resident of this house. I mean, it really started to smell, even worse than your stench right now.”
The portion where he states, "... as they decayed... " would seem to be superfluous, especially followed by the offhanded insult about the guy's hygeine. (UNLESS this type of loquaciousness and seemingly random, overly chatty and flippant cruelty to a complete stranger is a part of Lawrence's personality? Since this is an excerpt, it would be hard for me to be sure.)
I was also wondering too, about the purpose of showing the reader this murder? I read a lot of crime dramas (my husband's a nut for them XD), and the one thing I notice: the good ones do show the serial killer/bad guy murdering someone, but usually only if there is a reason, to further the plot somehow or another (character exposition, the development of a foible/strength unknown before; maybe it's his first, and he's yet to perfect the "technique" - or even to show his craft is "improving" (eep >< ); to point out a crucial mistake made by the killer; or maybe a way the victim somehow got "the last word," or a form of revenge against their murderer, etc.).
Meanwhile, the other murder in the story are generally shown through the eyes of the key characters/protagonists, on say an autopsy table? In a case file? During a blotter briefing or in a crime scene or... yada yada yada, you get the idea. XD
I read and re-read your piece, and by the end - though I absolutely did enjoy it - I wasn't entirely sure why I (the reader) was allowed to see that particular death, or even able to find a hint as to why it was important to the overall picture?
But without a doubt your piece is wonderfully solid and well-crafted, Agro. Beautifully done - on both of your excerpts - and I'm so excited to see the more "final" project come together (finally! XD hehe ) )) Yeah, I think the problem with the narrative and redundancy is probably the last remnants of my old writing style. It was sort of rigid, third person and informal and needed those tips of this is him thinking it. As the style has changed... that part clearly hasn't so it's something I'll have to keep an eye on. For Lawrence's dialogue, yeah, that's his character and personality here. And it sort of flow into the other point you brought up. There's a triangle of antagonists in the book: Tywlk, Lawrence and Nial. Tywlk won't appear again, he's an element of mystery. Nial is almost a plot point in himself. So I wanted Lawrence to be someone people are genuinely scared of. Not scared because they don't know who is or don't know what he's capable of. Scared because they know exactly who and what he's capable of. Every time he appears, hopefully the reader's heart will just start pumping a little more. And therefore, I wanted to have a clash of what we would regard as good (his clothing, a clean if slightly rambling speech pattern) with the psychopathic cruelty of his characters. And I felt this murder is a way to show that, it immediately tells the reader that people are going to die around this guy. Hopefully that might become more evident once the whole piece is finished. And everyone, thank you all so much for the reviews! |
|
|
|
Post by WJChesek ((Evern)) on Nov 16, 2010 14:38:47 GMT -5
Just read it, and while there's not a whole lot to add to what the others have said, I liked it anyway.
|
|
|
|
Post by James on Nov 16, 2010 18:30:05 GMT -5
Colin laid upon the ground, his nose aching, floored by Lawrence’s attack from behind his back as he made certain Robert had fled. He had travelled swiftly from Edith’s home, cutting through the park to briefly put Kaie on alert before finding out that both the children and Lawrence were in the very same park. His legs had ached, only overcoming the cramp from the long car journey, as he bolted along the slippery grass, stumbling across a faltering Louise.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have stopped for her; after all it was Robert who was being hunted by a powerful sect of Phantoms. As he saw her though, he knew she needed to be taken to safety, where someone could look after her. It hadn’t cost him; he had managed to find Robert in time as well, freeing him from Lawrence’s clutches. If he could now find a way to kill the Phantom in front of him then the night would be sealed.
“Just the two of us now,” Lawrence said, bearing down upon Colin with a dangerous deranged glint in his eyes.
“Not for long,” Colin spat, rolling to his side to avoid the flash of green that shot down towards him. “The amount of noise and damaged you’ve caused will bring every police officer in the town here, and you made sure they’re full on alert by killing Edith.”
“I do like to cause chaos,” Lawrence smiled, throwing another bolt of death at Colin. “It’s nearly as much fun as killing these pitiful creatures.”
“Kill yourself then,” Colin said, rising steadily to his feet, staff ready in the air. “You’re just as human as me or Robert.”
The Phantom snarled, fire erupting from the length of his cane, coiling back like a whip. Seizing his chance, Colin took out his feet from beneath him, Lawrence clattering to the floor. With steadied feet, a flash of red shot across his staff, an arrow of magic crackling through the air towards his enemy. Feeling his body sag beneath him slightly, Colin watched as the bolt barely missed Lawrence, dirt scattering over him as the ground next to him exploded.
Knowing he had struck a nerve Colin pushed forward his advantage, pulling the wind from the air around him. The clearing stood in eerie silence, the rain falling perfectly vertical, before the wind was let wild, picking Lawrence up from the floor and hurling him thirty metres across the park. His body smashed into the ancient trunk of a tree, the wood shaking from the force, more importantly his cane laid upon the ground between them forgotten.
Colin rushed forward, catching sight of the twisted bruised body of Lawrence, and smashed the butt of his staff into the centre of the cane. Blood thundering around his body, his eyes drooping slightly as a humming sound oozed out from his staff, growing steadily louder. Vibrations shot up and down the wood, both hands now clutching the weapon, holding it steady as the cane exploded into thousands of splinters.
“It’s over,” Colin grunted, slowly moving towards Lawrence, feet dragging along the ground. “You’ve lost your conductor.”
Laughter began to slip from between Lawrence’s lips, quiet at first before growing louder, a crescendo of noise. Colin didn’t expect to understand the Phantom in front of him, didn’t hope to be able to anticipate the man’s next move or plans. However he could never have expected the reaction that was unfolding before him, Lawrence slowly pulling himself upright as the laughter continued from his throat. Colin wanted to kill him swiftly, end the battle and rescue the children, but something kept his staff locked stationary in front of him.
“I’ve always thought that my original streak would come in handy one day,” Lawrence said, slipping a hand into his jacket. “I could never understand why all us half-fays are so bent on only relying on one conductor, it doesn’t seem like a good business model.”
His hand slipped from his jacket pocket, a small, silver switchblade sitting between his index and middle finger. It seemed to glint and shine, despite the lack of light from the sky, the heavy dark clouds covering the moon and the stars. Colin also noticed the minuscule specks of blood upon the blade and handle, a deep scarlet dry livery, a badge of honour for the weapon.
The scholar within Colin wanted to ponder the weapon in front of him, study it in detail, and learn about the effects of binding two items to magical blood. However he had to push that part of him away, throwing up a barrier between him and Lawrence as the Phantom sent a ball of fire towards him. It dissipated upon impact with his magical wall, fizzling into smoke that drifted away lost with the weather. Pushing back, the shield between them collapsed and the grass around Lawrence feet began to grow at an alarming rate.
Lawrence grinned, moving to step forward, before tumbling to the ground. The grass had wrapped itself around his feet at Colin’s order, his mind visualising the tiny green arms’ movement around Lawrence’s ankles. Without hesitation the grass reacted, drawing itself tighter as it continued to rope itself around the fallen Phantom. Once more sagging beneath his own exhaustion, his magic running off of willpower alone, Colin raised his staff ready to bring down the final blow upon the Phantom’s head.
“Drop the weapon! Drop the weapon!” a voice called out through the darkness. “You are surrounded! Do not attempt to resist or we will shoot!”
Cursing, Colin stepped back, staff lowering slightly. In the darkness his eyes caught sight of several police officers, two of them recognisable from Edith’s house, gathered around him. All of them had their handguns locked onto him, not a single officer realising their own folly at not putting a bullet into Lawrence now.
“I said drop the weapon!” one of the officers called, his voice slightly uneven.
“He won’t do that,” Lawrence called back, a grin stretching across the width of his face, the switchblade still clutched within his hand, out of sight from the police officers. The grass around his ankle began to fall away, slice in two from an invisible blade, Lawrence slowly freeing his feet.
Mind whirling, Colin considered his option, knowing that his decision would join a long list of second guessing. He knew that he didn’t have the strength left to disarm each officer without injuring them and therefore killing Lawrence would only end in his own death by simple bullets. While bringing Edith’s killer to vengeance was an attractive option, he had been given the task of taking Robert to safety by the Wolaeth, and his own death would leave them defenceless and lost within the park.
Pulling himself deep inside him, he let all excess thoughts slip from his mind like water in cupped hands. The roaring of the wind, the rustling of Lawrence upon the grass and the yelling of the officers melded into a single background sound as he stood alone inside his mind. Imagining the rain around drawing close, he brought his magic together, and let it slip quietly from the length of his staff hoping that Lawrence wouldn’t detect the force in the air.
Forming itself into a circular route, the rain refused to hit the ground, spiralling through the air around Colin and Lawrence. The water thickened as raindrops began to merge together, creating a moving wall of water between the police officers and the two half-fays, hiding them from view. Screams of surprise could be heard through the water, several police officers firing harmlessly into the wall, two more rushing forward. He had only moments left before the wall of water would collapse and he would be brought down like a target of some countryside hunt.
Hearing a rustle below him, Colin looked up to see Lawrence charging forward, the blade in his hand bathed in fire flying at his throat. Dropping to his knees, Colin threw the Phantom over his shoulder; Lawrence’s back landing thickly onto the ground. Swinging around, Colin lashed his staff against his enemy’s stomach, taking a grim sense of satisfaction in the shrill cry of pain that passed Lawrence’s lips and then broke for the eastern edge of the wall of water, Robbie’s footsteps long since cleaned away by the rain.
Gunfire erupted once more, the water falling away as bullets struck the two trees on either side of him, splinters flying in front of his eyes. With one hand covering his eyes, the other throwing a net of magic to catch any oncoming bullets, Colin burst between the trees and into the more wooded area, sprinting back towards where he had left Louise in the company of Kaie. They would have to move quickly now, with Lawrence and any other Phantoms still hunting him, Robert was still in as much danger as he was before the attack, but at least now, he could defend him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Nov 17, 2010 8:30:12 GMT -5
Damn that was good! Dude did I squeal when I read the first line! Like .... AMG! XD
Only real comments I have is that this feels very "skeleton." I want more "ouch" pain bits and descriptions, please! The magic bits were well described, everything else needed a little spruce. I also had to reread once or twice just exactly what had happened because it was a little unclear or quick (or just tacked onto a sentence). I would take a serious look at some of your sentences (particularly where you used commas) and make them shorter and clearer.
Loved! :]
|
|
|
|
Post by James on Nov 17, 2010 21:00:04 GMT -5
Damn that was good! Dude did I squeal when I read the first line! Like .... AMG! XD Only real comments I have is that this feels very "skeleton." I want more "ouch" pain bits and descriptions, please! The magic bits were well described, everything else needed a little spruce. I also had to reread once or twice just exactly what had happened because it was a little unclear or quick (or just tacked onto a sentence). I would take a serious look at some of your sentences (particularly where you used commas) and make them shorter and clearer. Loved! :] Definitely noting this. But yeah, I need this bit sort as lively, interesting and as exciting as possible because what follows is the attempt to explain the whole entire world and the presence of faeries and half-fays etc. So for the next two chapters it slows down very quickly. |
|
|
|
Post by Meleta/Isoldaa on Nov 21, 2010 17:32:08 GMT -5
(( Really liked this section here Agro - lots of things happening all at once. I really didn't have a problem following the flow here at all of what happened, nor as an excerpt did I [the "reader"] suffer from not being able to understand (as a supposed "first time reader" XD ) who Edith was, or the references to Robbie or Woelath.
One of the few things I had a small issue with was me, here, wondering why you showed your reader this particular section? Chase/fight scene, yes (and a very intricate, well thought out one at that!) - but I wasn't left with an indelible impression that this portion was not extraneous to the main line of the story?
Now, if you had - or intended to, I know it's a work in progress! - expanded on the portions where Lawrence is obviously wounded/offended by the fact he is every bit as human as the people he sneers at/destroys/kills? (only for example - just the first thing that came to mind) Then the genuine importance/can't-do-without factor of this scene might have been clearer - though it seemed that noticing that rather important fact and capitalizing on it was just another feint in his repertoire?
Or even the "has two conductors" aspect of Lawrence's fighting style? It seemed like it should be really important, but... I wasn't entirely sure by the time I got to the end?
And so yes, a great frame you've got here, Agro - you're doing a fantastic job pulling all this together! Still, I think the really important details are going to come out when you have a chance to go back and expand on things, show the reader the true relevance of everything you've done here, and where you want your reader's focus to follow on the storyline. ))
|
|
