Try this.....

[mosaix]

Write two paragraphs.

The first makes the reader really dislike a character, this can be by something the character does or says. After reading this the reader should not be able to imagine, under any circumstances, feeling anything but hatred.

The second paragraph, unexpectedly, makes the reader feel sympathy for the same character.

 

[YOSSARIAN]

I think this is a good challenge...I'm working on it.

 

[Aes]

Should the paragraphs flow together, or can there be a gap of time between the two? I'm assuming flow together, which should be quite the challenge.

 

[Paradox 99]

Nice challenge. Let's have a go....

'Put it on,' Crickley said, his voice cold and unsympathetic. His eyes, glared down at the child as he grasped his arm, very much aware that the strength of his grip would reveal some rather ugly bruises later. But that was unimportant.
'But it hurts, it's too tight,' the boy replied. His hands were shaking as he held the mask. The smell of rubber and stale sweat wafted upward; a reminder of the fear experienced by the previous wearers.

The hissing sound came as suddenly as the grey vapours clouded the chamber.
'Do it now!' Crickley insisted.
Fumbling, the boy pushed the mask over his head just in time. Crickley slumped forward as the fumes wrenched at the back of throat. At the very least he knew that one innocent life had been saved today. The boy's terrified face would be the last thing he would see, but what did it matter? He would be safe for a time.

 

[mosaix]

Should the paragraphs flow together, or can there be a gap of time between the two? I'm assuming flow together, which should be quite the challenge.

The only gap should be of a few seconds at the most.

 

[mosaix]

The boy shrank back into the deep shadow cast by the full moon as he watched in horror as a young woman fought for her life across the cobbled square. Held down by the man, she thrashed around screaming “Please, please!” The glint was unmistakably that of moonlight on a blade as he first held it to her throat and then thrust it up through the base of her jaw and into her brain. The man stood, head back, arms aloft to the moon, blood dripping from the blade. Then with a furtive glance over his shoulder he moved quietly into the shadows and away up a narrow alley.

He knelt over her holding her shoulders, watching the pain wrack her body. “Father,” she said, looking up into his eyes, “don’t leave me like this. I can’t stand it. It’s too much for anyone to bear. End it for me.” And then louder as the pain took her, “Please, please!” Slowly he drew the knife, holding it to her throat. No, that would be too slow. Tears ran down his cheeks as he, in one swift movement, pushed the blade up into her brain. He stood back and shook the knife to the skies. “My only child - you Gods will pay for this.” He muttered. Then, perhaps a sound close by? They can’t be far behind, he thought and with one last glance at the only thing he had ever loved he slipped away into he darkness.

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I actually feel that this is a bit of a cheat. I am holding something back from the reader, mis-leading them. I think I will have another go where "what you see is what you get" and yet the reader still feels sympathetic.
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[mosaix]

Nice challenge. Let's have a go....

Hi Paradox. It's difficult to see after the first para (as it should be) how a moment later you could feel any sympathy. But low and behold, there it is.

I think the real test, however, will be if the writer can make the reader feel sympathy for a genuinley nasty character. Maybe this will always involve the writer holding something back - we'll see.

 

[Paradox 99]

Hi Paradox. It's difficult to see after the first para (as it should be) how a moment later you could feel any sympathy. But low and behold, there it is.

I think the real test, however, will be if the writer can make the reader feel sympathy for a genuinley nasty character. Maybe this will always involve the writer holding something back - we'll see.

Thanks Mosaix.
Yours was great. It was interesting to see the scene replayed twice from different perspectives. I don't see it as misleading at all. I believe you have to hold stuff back to pull something like this off, but the real trick is to use the readers' experiences and knowledge to make false assumptions - trick them into believing something you haven't explicitly told them.
When you see a man killing a woman, the natural assumption is to assume he's evil, but it's still an assumption. You haven't mislead anyone, you've just stated the event and allowed the reader to make their own mind up about what's happening. It's not your fault if they jump to the wrong conclusion.

 

[mosaix]

Thanks Mosaix.
Yours was great. It was interesting to see the scene replayed twice from different perspectives. I don't see it as misleading at all. I believe you have to hold stuff back to pull something like this off, but the real trick is to use the readers' experiences and knowledge to make false assumptions - trick them into believing something you haven't explicitly told them.
When you see a man killing a woman, the natural assumption is to assume he's evil, but it's still an assumption. You haven't mislead anyone, you've just stated the event and allowed the reader to make their own mind up about what's happening. It's not your fault if they jump to the wrong conclusion.

You may be right.

When I was first thinking about this I thought that R L Stevenson with 'Dr Jekyl & Mr Hyde' had managed it. But then I realised that, in essence, Jekyl & Hyde are two different characters and as such it's not difficult to have differing emotions about them.

What I would love to be able to do is to cause such a wild swing of emotions in a reader that it actually causes them to cry. It's happened to me a few times and I've always tried to examine (afterwards) exactly how the writer did it. Usually it's a pendulum effect, the reader is dragged to one extreme only to be released into a wild swing to the other.

I'll have another go in a day or two and see if I can find a way of doing it without holding anything back.

 

[mosaix]

“As you can see in the letter Jones, I’m giving you a months notice. And I’m going to have to turn down your holiday request, you’ll have far too much tidying up of loose ends to do in the short time you’ve got left. You may think this a little hard, what with you recently married, just taken on a mortgage and a youngster on the way, but those are the kind of decisions I’m paid to make.”

[FONT=&quot]I watched from the windo[/FONT][FONT=&quot]w as the three of them crossed the road towards the pub, casting the occasional glance back towards my office. When was the last time anyone had invited me for a drink after work? When was the last time anyone had bought cakes on my birthday? When was the last time anyone enquired about my family or how my team had done on Saturday? When was the last time I had had a holiday? No doubt Hardy and Evans were commiserating with him over the loss of his job, laying the blame at my door. At least Jones is young enough and fit enough to get another job easily. Hardy with six years to go to retirement and Evans with that crippling arthritis wouldn’t have stood a chance. But those are the kind of decisions I’m paid to make.

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This is more what I had in mind but I still think it's part trickery. So perhaps Paradox is right and I just have to accept it.
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[Aes]

Better late than never, I guess. I don't think there's a way this can be done without hiding something, because otherwise, why would you have the character in the first place? The whole reason your hate turns to sympathy is because the story has revealed a bit more about the character in question and what they are going through.

Anyway: (I'm too long-winded, and as such, tried to cram way too much into 2 paragraphs. I expect nothing better than a C- on this assignment)

- - -

Sister Clair tossed the empty gasoline can aside, having finished her circle around the orphanage. She gazed up into the foggy night sky for a moment before producing a small lighter. Sparking it with a flick of her wrist, she tossed it toward the building without so much as a second thought. The flames circled around and quickly rose upon the saturated wooden structure, just as she had planned. A dozen child-like screams of agony accompanied the sound of the now raging fire before her, but still, she had to be thorough. Taking hold of a large metal bat she had brought, Clair made her way to the building's only entrance. It didn't take long, as there she could already hear pounding and fumbling with the door's latching mechanism. The door flew open, and three small figures rushed out, desperate to escape the ever-growing inferno. Clair struck the first one squarely across the head, and then kicked the poor child back into the building. Quickly spinning around, she caught the second by the arm and heaved the frantic orphan through the doorway to join the first. The third hadn't gotten far, as she quickly caught up with and grabbed this one, too. The frantic young boy fought madly to get away with everything he had, but the nun was far too strong for him. He too was thrown into the now-roaring, collapsing inferno. Clair pushed the door closed, and propped her bat against the latch in such a way that it wouldn't be opened again. Burn, filthy creatures!

Exhausted, Clair knelt down to catch her breath as the screams began to die down and the building continued to burn. Finally, the last of the plaguetouched had been destroyed. She rubbed her arm, hoping to drive away the numbness that had began to appear. Perhaps she sprained or twisted something with one of those throws? As she glanced at it to check for any bruises, her face grew white with horror. A patch of skin had begun to turn green, with a small set of teethmarks at the center. How did...? Clair had been part of a gathering of townsfolk who had set out to contain the plague of undeath the only way possible--by destroying everything affected. She had been the last of this group to survive, but now, she was going to become the very thing she had fought to destroy only moments ago, making it all for nothing. She couldn't let that happen, no matter what the cost. I feel so numb, so cold. God, why has such a thing happened here? Help me, please! She sighed, not expecting a response of any kind. Only yesterday, she was naive enough to have prayed for a miracle, but she knew her god wasn't here to listen. Her eyes wandered around the remains of the ruined town and the burnt remains of countless bodies. How could my God have ever been here? Several tears trickled down her dirt-covered cheeks as she slowly approached the burning remains of the building. Has the cause I dedicated my entire life to been a waste? Has it all been a lie? As the flames swept around her, a chill rippled throughout her body, and her sight began to fade. There was no light at the end of the tunnel waiting for her, only infinite darkness.

- - -

This would've made a fun (if not somewhat cliche) short story to write. Hmm!

 

[mosaix]

Excellent - just never saw it coming. I stopped after the first para for about five minutes trying to guess how it would finish - then gave up.

 

[mosaix]

After trying this I became convinced that the writer had to hold something back and reveal it in the second paragraph.

Well, I've just finshed reading The Warden by Trollope and, without giving anything away, throughout the story Trollope continuosly presents views of the same issue through the eyes of at least three different parties.

Trollope changed my mind again and again as to who was right and who was wrong regarding the central issue. Nothing was held back, nothing was hidden, he did it entirely by the force and quality of the his writing.

The story doesn't eaxctly revolve around hatred and sympathy, as in the original exercise, but is an excellent example of what I was trying to get at - changing someone's mind through the power of the writing itself.

 

[asher marquering]

this seems to be quite a master task but i'll give it ago

Eldred glared from the corner of his eye at his friend, Odell, a senior in the same class as Eldred since they started at high school. Eldred’s Friend had developed a lot slower into adulthood, than the rest of the seniors, although through his attitude and vocalisations one would not say so. He was a lot thinner and smaller than the rest of the seniors were and was defenceless in any sort of fight, Eldred had even protected him several times when some bigger intermediate – seniors had tried to fight with Odell, but now things were different. Eldred was angry. Several incomplete thoughts flew through his mind, “The girls…loved… thoughts… how dare he!” A voice said to him “you’re a lot stronger than him, he must pay.” Eldred turned to face his friend, stretched his black wings and bent his knees preparing his body for a pounce. An expression of shock and fear appeared on Odell’s face. Eldred lunged forward with his legs first, and then used his wings for additional speed. He placed his palm over his friend’s forehead as he grabbed Odell’s head. His Friend’s eyes rolled back into his head, and his face became expressionless as the force between the school building and Eldred’s hand crushed Odell’s skull.

Eldred felt the physical life of Odell seep through his fingers, the feeling and sequential guilt, caused Eldred to remove his hand from his friends crushed skull. Eldred’s hand was trembling as Odell’s body slumped to the floor. The thoughts in his mind became clearer, “What will the girls’; I think I love, thoughts be on this? Will they think I am a murderer?”
“But how he dare take over my friend’s body, Odell never asked for this to happen.” There was no time to ponder these thoughts Eldred had a duty to perform, he jumped back and started chanting what appeared to be a spell. Odell’s motionless body began to glow with a blue light, as two balls of light appeared one red, one blue. Eldred turned his bloody palm towards them. Both moved towards his hand, although the red one moved faster. Eldred grabbed the red one and crushed the one that his mystical guide had deemed a demon, like a glass ball. As soon as he did this the blue ball of light stopped moving towards him and floated up into the sky. Eldred watched as his friends soul past to the next world. Eldred waved a good bye and said, “You’re lucky to be free from pain and sadness, I wish it was me.”

i tried some miss direction with the internal dialogue did it work, and i think he first parag might be a bit confusing

as for the sheer strength of writing i'm lacking a bit there so i had to leave some information out

 

[jackokent]

What a brilliant idea Mosaix I must have a go. Loved all the examples so far although Asher, yes I did find this confusing at first. It all became clearer as I read through

 

[Perpetual Man]

This little task has kept me thinking for days, and I have to say I'm not really convinced that I've hit the nail one hundred percent on the head! But for what it's worth here's my little attempt...

His long thin fingers reached out and touched the cold flesh of her face; hers may have been dead and unmoving, but his was a mirror for it, easily as lifeless and unemotional as the corpses before him. No feelings were betrayed on the sepulchre visage as he moved the still arms, shifting them to a position more to his liking, in keeping with what he felt was correct. Around him the air was dark and still, his morbid work carried out in secret, hidden from the world at large because they just would not understand what it was that he did.

It took him the better part of thirty minutes, and only when the body was perfectly positioned to his liking did his professional visage crack, emotion and pain bleeding across his face like the single tear from his eye. His fingers trembled this time when they touched her face, his voice little more than a child’s whisper as the undertaker bade his mother farewell.

 

[mosaix]

Hi Tim,

Very good. A nice opening paragraph leaving the reader with the impression of some kind of sadist at work.

A good touch having the body belong to the undertaker's mother, adding that extra touch of unexpected sympathy.

 

[KSeriphyn]

This was a real challenge. Perhaps if I was more skilled I could do it better. At the moment, below was all I could muster. It's not a sci-fi/fantasy story (that would be really difficult for me).

Corinth was the one who had started it. She spat at her brother and broke his favourite blue car. Her brother was so upset that he spat back and broke her favourite Barbie doll. Corinth had wailed in a high pitch, which got their mum rushing into the room with her concerns. Corinth was the first one to fall into mummy’s cuddle and tell her story, and she was so convincing, it was her brother that got the smack and telling off. Corinth went back to teasing her brother as soon as their mum left the room; messing up his line of toy soilders, even taking his toys (when he wasn’t looking) and throwing them in the bin. When he'd look around the room and not find them, she'd laugh and get him fired up again. It was fun for Corinth.

After a while Corinth got bored with playing and wanted to watch a movie. She ran to her mum with the video she wanted to watch in her hand. Her mummy wasn’t interested; she was too busy talking on the phone. Corinth noticed mummy was wearing her work clothes and had her suitcase near the front door. Mummy was going away again. They would have to stay with horrible Aunt Mavis who yells at Corinth. Corinth would be forced to clean up Aunt Mavis's house, while her brother gets to watch TV and play. Aunt Mavis always gave her brother things, the blue car, the red fire truck and cuddles when he wanted it. She’d get nothing but smacks and telling-off’s.

Ok so maybe there might be more than two paragraph's here. At least I gave it a shot.

xx

KSeriphyn

 

[carrie221]

I decided to try this. I hope that it was close to what the exercise asked for.

“Why won’t you answer my calls or letters? I haven’t heard anything from you in months.” He asked blocking the door as he took his fill in of the girl that he had loved since childhood. She sneered at him with fury in her eyes and contempt. “How could you possible believe that I was in love with you? I slept with you to win a bet. That is all it ever was!” She screamed at the young man in front of her, who was blocking her entrance into the house. “But…” He tried to begin before being cut off. “How could I love you? You are just an ugly nerd. No girl in her right mind would be interested in you. Just go back to school and stay away from me, you loser.” The man looked at her with tears in his eyes as he pushed past her and raced down the street to his car. She stood there in triumph as he left.

She closed the door behind her and collapsed down onto the floor sobbing. She slipped her coat off and her heavily pregnant belly became visible. She had managed to do it without letting him see anything was wrong. She knew she had done the right thing and hopefully someday he would be able to forgive her but the life of their unborn child was more important then his feelings. She had done what was asked of her and now her child would be taken care of. Hopefully one day she would be reunited with the man that she loved but for now she had a promise to keep.

 

[madeener]

Hey, I'd like to give this a shot.

Wrestling furiously, Gareth loosened the girl's grip on his pants and threw her backward onto the lawn. "Get out of my sight, you god forsaken bitch!" he yelled contemptuously. "And take your dead mom's regards with you!" The mute girl made a series of hand signs, pleading for reason; he snorted uncaringly and slammed the door loudly in her face. Mournfully, she picked up the mud stained haversack he had thrown at her and took one last look at the cottage she once called home.

Inside, Gareth walked stoically into the living room. He rested himself slowly on his sofa, facing the shadowy figure. "I've done what you've wanted, now promise me her safety," he grunted, but the figure merely shrugged. A few uncomfortable seconds passed and he leaped at him, hands ready to grab the figure's neck. But then, an acute pain overcame him and he dropped to the floor, squirming in pain. The figure had a gun.