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Well. Here it is. The winning entry.
(It's more likely to be competition fodder, but I'll release it to your criticism)
I'll say no more than "beware!" before you read my story. Don't expect a lovey dovey Christmas Tale, ok?
*****************************************
Mike stood in the kitchen, surveying every item in turn, glaring searchingly at every utensil that shimmered in the moonlight for the one that he could use. The cold constantly seeped in like a smooth, thick smoke from under a door leading to the garden and dropped the temperature in the room at a degrees a second. The winter night was brewing, for it was not a night where a cool, crisp air would possess the atmosphere, but an abrasive, merciless snow that would rain down on a naïve and peaceful town. The chill didn’t affect Mike now, though. He was far beyond feeling anything from outside of the house. All he was concerned about was finishing the job that he had started 10 minutes ago. Still he frantically searched for the tool he would use to do his bidding, all the time his back lurched with hands at chest height and fingers not clenched to his palm, but snarled. Mike not only had murder in his mind, but murder in his eyes. However, this was unknown to the world, because he was shrouded in darkness to make sure not a soul outside of the home knew of his activities.
Mike feared not the cries of Lucy, with the basement being made of solid enough materials to conceal even a banshee’s howls. He was also sure that she would not be able to break down the door. After all, she was only a weak, powerless woman and he himself had jammed the chair up against the door handle.
For the first time today the sides of Mike’s mouth rose slightly. He smiled. He smiled in a way that would have sickened even the most brutal of criminals. Mike stretched his hand out slowly and steadily to a bread knife that stood obediently in a wooden stand. He admired the knife as he raised it to his face and ran his fingers very gently down the blade.
The signal of the start of the snow storm, a sudden gust of wind, burst through a rickety window and screamed in Mike’s ear. He flinched with his head now to the side, facing the basement door, eyes wide open and the blade raised above his head. His fears were allayed when he saw the door was still shaking from Lucy’s pounding fists. Her pleas were still, and always had been falling on deaf ears.
Mike lowered his arms and still with a sadistic smile, he paced towards the door. Without a word he ripped the stool out form under the handle of the door and threw it across the room. He clenched and twisted the handle and pulled the door open. Lucy knelt on the top of the steps leading down into the dank, dark and musty basement, with tears streaming down her soft, rosy cheeks. He lowered his head and she raised hers. She was still pleading with him for her life, but her words were lost under her crying and sniffing. Mike stood there looking directly into her eyes, immune to the noises she was making, hearing nothing, only seeing the innocent fear like that of a young child in her eyes. He redoubled his smile, as Lucy quivered and clasped her hands together- now begging for her life. Mike placed his finger on her lips, but still uttered words poured from her mouth. Mike now took on a more sympathetic façade and said “Hush, hush.” Lucy couldn’t control herself. She continued to weep. She threw herself at Mike’s legs and wrapped her arms around his knees. Mike was afraid she was making an attempt to escape at first and so raised the bread knife, but soon realised that she was just going to continue her pitiful pleas in a new position, so lowered his arm. He raised his finger and looked at the blood which had transferred from her lips. She was cut on her upper lip from when the attack started a few minutes ago.
Once again, Mike’s expression changed. This time it spelt death for Lucy. She was now regretting ever meeting Mike. She was regretting ever getting to know Mike. She was regretting ever moving in with Mike, but what options had she got? She was homeless and penniless without Mike. He had seemed like a beacon of light in an otherwise shady sky. She effectively had no choice but to move in with him, after her grandparents died. For Lucy had lived with her grandparents in a small cottage placed next to a farm since the age of 8 when an unfortunate accident took the lives of her true parents. She had moved on from house to house and had never really found a home.
Over the years she spent with Mike, there were opportunities to escape from the abuse, but for a fear of retribution or perhaps a naïve faith in Mike changing, she never stopped herself from being the victim.
As the wails continued and the relentless tears still flowed as if from taps, Mike tried to wriggle his legs free, even as Lucy still stubbornly clung on. He freed his right leg and kicked her in the shoulder, sending her tumbling down the stairs. Her body was contorted in many positions, before ending as a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Mike hastily traversed the stairs. Again Lucy raised her head and clasped her hands, pleading all the while, even though her hair had fallen across her face. Again Mike kicked her. Having fallen backwards over the hard, cold, damp concrete floor, Lucy huddled her body in the corner of the basement. Lucy still wept, but now the pleas had stopped. She had almost conceded she was going to die.
Lucy raised the corner of her eye out from her arms and looked into Mike’s eyes. Her vision was blurry from the tears, but she could see the knife clearly enough. It hurtled towards her, plunging into her neck. A faint yelp drifted its way out of her mouth as she slowly faded into an eternal sleep. Mike stabbed again and a third time, until he was satisfied that in his mind, her corpse truly was dead. Her once red lips had paled. Her previously radiant golden hair, now ended as a ruffled mess hanging from her head. Her beautiful and innocent eyes had blinked for the last time.
Mike now stepped back and dropped the knife. He saw the thick, red blood stain much of her clothes. His face was now expressionless. The harsh and merciless snow had all ready begun to drop down over the town for all to, but Mike’s fit of anger was unknown to anyone.
Nick (Clazon)
********************************************
I've put this in pretty early just so I can get some general feed back.
:)
(It's more likely to be competition fodder, but I'll release it to your criticism)
I'll say no more than "beware!" before you read my story. Don't expect a lovey dovey Christmas Tale, ok?
*****************************************
Mike stood in the kitchen, surveying every item in turn, glaring searchingly at every utensil that shimmered in the moonlight for the one that he could use. The cold constantly seeped in like a smooth, thick smoke from under a door leading to the garden and dropped the temperature in the room at a degrees a second. The winter night was brewing, for it was not a night where a cool, crisp air would possess the atmosphere, but an abrasive, merciless snow that would rain down on a naïve and peaceful town. The chill didn’t affect Mike now, though. He was far beyond feeling anything from outside of the house. All he was concerned about was finishing the job that he had started 10 minutes ago. Still he frantically searched for the tool he would use to do his bidding, all the time his back lurched with hands at chest height and fingers not clenched to his palm, but snarled. Mike not only had murder in his mind, but murder in his eyes. However, this was unknown to the world, because he was shrouded in darkness to make sure not a soul outside of the home knew of his activities.
Mike feared not the cries of Lucy, with the basement being made of solid enough materials to conceal even a banshee’s howls. He was also sure that she would not be able to break down the door. After all, she was only a weak, powerless woman and he himself had jammed the chair up against the door handle.
For the first time today the sides of Mike’s mouth rose slightly. He smiled. He smiled in a way that would have sickened even the most brutal of criminals. Mike stretched his hand out slowly and steadily to a bread knife that stood obediently in a wooden stand. He admired the knife as he raised it to his face and ran his fingers very gently down the blade.
The signal of the start of the snow storm, a sudden gust of wind, burst through a rickety window and screamed in Mike’s ear. He flinched with his head now to the side, facing the basement door, eyes wide open and the blade raised above his head. His fears were allayed when he saw the door was still shaking from Lucy’s pounding fists. Her pleas were still, and always had been falling on deaf ears.
Mike lowered his arms and still with a sadistic smile, he paced towards the door. Without a word he ripped the stool out form under the handle of the door and threw it across the room. He clenched and twisted the handle and pulled the door open. Lucy knelt on the top of the steps leading down into the dank, dark and musty basement, with tears streaming down her soft, rosy cheeks. He lowered his head and she raised hers. She was still pleading with him for her life, but her words were lost under her crying and sniffing. Mike stood there looking directly into her eyes, immune to the noises she was making, hearing nothing, only seeing the innocent fear like that of a young child in her eyes. He redoubled his smile, as Lucy quivered and clasped her hands together- now begging for her life. Mike placed his finger on her lips, but still uttered words poured from her mouth. Mike now took on a more sympathetic façade and said “Hush, hush.” Lucy couldn’t control herself. She continued to weep. She threw herself at Mike’s legs and wrapped her arms around his knees. Mike was afraid she was making an attempt to escape at first and so raised the bread knife, but soon realised that she was just going to continue her pitiful pleas in a new position, so lowered his arm. He raised his finger and looked at the blood which had transferred from her lips. She was cut on her upper lip from when the attack started a few minutes ago.
Once again, Mike’s expression changed. This time it spelt death for Lucy. She was now regretting ever meeting Mike. She was regretting ever getting to know Mike. She was regretting ever moving in with Mike, but what options had she got? She was homeless and penniless without Mike. He had seemed like a beacon of light in an otherwise shady sky. She effectively had no choice but to move in with him, after her grandparents died. For Lucy had lived with her grandparents in a small cottage placed next to a farm since the age of 8 when an unfortunate accident took the lives of her true parents. She had moved on from house to house and had never really found a home.
Over the years she spent with Mike, there were opportunities to escape from the abuse, but for a fear of retribution or perhaps a naïve faith in Mike changing, she never stopped herself from being the victim.
As the wails continued and the relentless tears still flowed as if from taps, Mike tried to wriggle his legs free, even as Lucy still stubbornly clung on. He freed his right leg and kicked her in the shoulder, sending her tumbling down the stairs. Her body was contorted in many positions, before ending as a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Mike hastily traversed the stairs. Again Lucy raised her head and clasped her hands, pleading all the while, even though her hair had fallen across her face. Again Mike kicked her. Having fallen backwards over the hard, cold, damp concrete floor, Lucy huddled her body in the corner of the basement. Lucy still wept, but now the pleas had stopped. She had almost conceded she was going to die.
Lucy raised the corner of her eye out from her arms and looked into Mike’s eyes. Her vision was blurry from the tears, but she could see the knife clearly enough. It hurtled towards her, plunging into her neck. A faint yelp drifted its way out of her mouth as she slowly faded into an eternal sleep. Mike stabbed again and a third time, until he was satisfied that in his mind, her corpse truly was dead. Her once red lips had paled. Her previously radiant golden hair, now ended as a ruffled mess hanging from her head. Her beautiful and innocent eyes had blinked for the last time.
Mike now stepped back and dropped the knife. He saw the thick, red blood stain much of her clothes. His face was now expressionless. The harsh and merciless snow had all ready begun to drop down over the town for all to, but Mike’s fit of anger was unknown to anyone.
Nick (Clazon)
********************************************
I've put this in pretty early just so I can get some general feed back.
:)
Page:
FinalFantasyFanatic wrote:
> Very good for a first try, I liked it.
> Everything seemed quite quiet and steady, a nice contrast to the
> nastines
Cheers, it was suposed to be. I feel it increases the impact of the sinister aspects.
Anyone notice the pathetic falacy which I crammed up your backsides in about 5 sentences?
:D
>although I didn't really like the background bit about her
> grandparents.
In hindsight neither do I. However, that stuff had to go in to create the sense of her being a nomad.
> Very good for a first try, I liked it.
> Everything seemed quite quiet and steady, a nice contrast to the
> nastines
Cheers, it was suposed to be. I feel it increases the impact of the sinister aspects.
Anyone notice the pathetic falacy which I crammed up your backsides in about 5 sentences?
:D
>although I didn't really like the background bit about her
> grandparents.
In hindsight neither do I. However, that stuff had to go in to create the sense of her being a nomad.
Ineedsleep wrote:
> Definitely should post more.
Thanks. It's all about time. The compo is a persuasive device I use on my self to make sure I devote some time to it.
I liked the idea but you did waffle on
> a bit and it lessen the sharpness and shock effect of it. Not that
> I'm critising,
Really? Didn't notice it myself.
:D
> Definitely should post more.
Thanks. It's all about time. The compo is a persuasive device I use on my self to make sure I devote some time to it.
I liked the idea but you did waffle on
> a bit and it lessen the sharpness and shock effect of it. Not that
> I'm critising,
Really? Didn't notice it myself.
:D
Excellent story had my heart pumping!
Very good for a first try, I liked it.
Everything seemed quite quiet and steady, a nice contrast to the nastines - although I didn't really like the background bit about her grandparents.
Some lovely lines in there as well - write more for us, please.
Everything seemed quite quiet and steady, a nice contrast to the nastines - although I didn't really like the background bit about her grandparents.
Some lovely lines in there as well - write more for us, please.
Clazon wrote:
> RoJ wrote:
> Not bad. I haven't written anything in ages so you shouldn't take
> what I say seriously. I think you may be missing a word at the end,
> when you talk about the snow falling.
>
> Like what?
town for all to, but Mike’s fit of anger
He means between the to, and but :)
Definitely should post more. I liked the idea but you did waffle on a bit and it lessen the sharpness and shock effect of it. Not that I'm critising, I write like that a lot of the time as well :)
> RoJ wrote:
> Not bad. I haven't written anything in ages so you shouldn't take
> what I say seriously. I think you may be missing a word at the end,
> when you talk about the snow falling.
>
> Like what?
town for all to, but Mike’s fit of anger
He means between the to, and but :)
Definitely should post more. I liked the idea but you did waffle on a bit and it lessen the sharpness and shock effect of it. Not that I'm critising, I write like that a lot of the time as well :)
Dolores I wrote:
Also I was imagining him kicking her down the stairs before
> you even wrote it. Weither this is good or bad I odnt know just
> though I would give it a mention.
I would hope this is a good thing due to character and situation building, but it adds to Glovey's (errr I mean "Kipper's") predictable comment.
Weird.
Also I was imagining him kicking her down the stairs before
> you even wrote it. Weither this is good or bad I odnt know just
> though I would give it a mention.
I would hope this is a good thing due to character and situation building, but it adds to Glovey's (errr I mean "Kipper's") predictable comment.
Weird.
Mister Kipper wrote:
> If I was to criticize I'd say it was a little too drawn out (even
> though some of the detail was good),
Once again I agree. I particularly did it like this to get my writing juices flowing again. Plus any help.
and nothing unexpected happened
> - so it was predictable.
Well. I gave no consideration to this. I wanted it to be predictable in a way because I hate the cheesey filth that is stories where she would miraculously escape. I could have made her reverse the murder I suppose.
> Still there's potential. Post more.
Thanks.
> If I was to criticize I'd say it was a little too drawn out (even
> though some of the detail was good),
Once again I agree. I particularly did it like this to get my writing juices flowing again. Plus any help.
and nothing unexpected happened
> - so it was predictable.
Well. I gave no consideration to this. I wanted it to be predictable in a way because I hate the cheesey filth that is stories where she would miraculously escape. I could have made her reverse the murder I suppose.
> Still there's potential. Post more.
Thanks.
Ashman wrote:
> For a first entry its a good attempt, but I feel some sentences were
> dodgily structured and you often mis-described things, if you will.
> Here is a sentence I picked out that could be worked on:
> "The cold constantly seeped in like a smooth, thick smoke from
> under a door leading to the garden and dropped the temperature in the
> room at a degrees a second."
> Its just a bit prolonged, it doesn't flow. Try changing little
> annoyances like this, it makes a world of difference. Just remember,
> just because something sounds good doesn't mean it will tie in with
> the story or indeed the sentence.
I completely understand. I highlighted some of the sentences I disliked in red before I posted it on here. But I think if you look at the time I posted it, you can understand why it didn't quite flow.
:)
> But don't be disheartened because there is an abundance of potential
> here. Like RoJ said it was packed with emotion and read quite nicely
> too.
I don't agree that it reads nicely. But I feel it is packed with emotion.
> Anyway, I've noticed you around the forums on here so its nice to see
> you in CW. Definitely enter future competitions.
Cheers, will do. Thanks for the link too.
> For a first entry its a good attempt, but I feel some sentences were
> dodgily structured and you often mis-described things, if you will.
> Here is a sentence I picked out that could be worked on:
> "The cold constantly seeped in like a smooth, thick smoke from
> under a door leading to the garden and dropped the temperature in the
> room at a degrees a second."
> Its just a bit prolonged, it doesn't flow. Try changing little
> annoyances like this, it makes a world of difference. Just remember,
> just because something sounds good doesn't mean it will tie in with
> the story or indeed the sentence.
I completely understand. I highlighted some of the sentences I disliked in red before I posted it on here. But I think if you look at the time I posted it, you can understand why it didn't quite flow.
:)
> But don't be disheartened because there is an abundance of potential
> here. Like RoJ said it was packed with emotion and read quite nicely
> too.
I don't agree that it reads nicely. But I feel it is packed with emotion.
> Anyway, I've noticed you around the forums on here so its nice to see
> you in CW. Definitely enter future competitions.
Cheers, will do. Thanks for the link too.
I quite liked it, but my standerd of story writing is abysmal as I know if I try and make it good it would be abysmal. So I just make it abysmal. Also I was imagining him kicking her down the stairs before you even wrote it. Weither this is good or bad I odnt know just though I would give it a mention.
RoJ wrote:
> Not bad. I haven't written anything in ages so you shouldn't take
> what I say seriously. I think you may be missing a word at the end,
> when you talk about the snow falling.
Like what?
> Anyway it was basic, whether that is good or bad depends on who is
> reading it. Liked some of the descriptions although they were a
> trifle awkward at times.
That's what I thought
> You made me want to kill Mike though, so at
> least you got the emotions stirred up.
Brilliant. I was indeed aiming for this.
:)
> Not bad. I haven't written anything in ages so you shouldn't take
> what I say seriously. I think you may be missing a word at the end,
> when you talk about the snow falling.
Like what?
> Anyway it was basic, whether that is good or bad depends on who is
> reading it. Liked some of the descriptions although they were a
> trifle awkward at times.
That's what I thought
> You made me want to kill Mike though, so at
> least you got the emotions stirred up.
Brilliant. I was indeed aiming for this.
:)
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