Death Becomes You

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Virtual_Space

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Ok, I have finally found a story I like, and from everyone I have talked to, other people like it too. I am only going to post the first chapter and the prologue, first chapter comes later btw. Here is the prologue. I am also trying for a very different style of writing this time, or atleast different from my other work.​

Prologue

A light snow falls on a cold day in Seattle, blanketing the ground in a sea of white. People honk their car horns in defiance of one another. Children frolic along the street sides, catching snowflakes on their tongues. The street lights flash their usual colors. An average day to all but the most ardent of observers.

Walking down the sidewalk is Andrea Edgar, wrapped in a heavy, brown coat. Her short black hair is hidden beneath a tightly knit cap, and her hands kept warm by thick gloves. She rubs her hands together in a futile attempt to keep warm. It fails to keep away the clinging cold.

The world seems to slow as Andrea walks by, her dark and foreboding presence felt by all. Perhaps it is her cold stare, as cold as the air around her. Perhaps it is the mascara running down her cheeks. Or maybe, just maybe, they know what is going through her mind, what swirls in its deep, dark, abyss.

Andrea steps onto the street corner, watching the heavy, morning traffic streak by. The lights fade into the distance as quickly as they come. She lets the thoughts leak from her mindless depths, trickling into her conscious self. The thoughts pervade all they reach, killing off any semblance of hope she once had.

“Finish it,” the voice from deep inside says, “Finish it here, nows as good a time as any.”

“I can't” Andrea mutters under her breath, a man waiting for the light eying her strangely as she says it. “I mustn't,”
But the thoughts take hold. In an instant, Andrea dashes out into the oncoming traffic. The first car swerves into parked car nearby, setting off its screeching alarm. The blue sedan afterwards is far more accurate.

The car slams into Andrea, forcing her over the hood and onto the cold street below. No scream accompanies her death, save for the screams of those around her. A mother shields her young sons eyes from the terrible sight.

Lying on the ground is Andrea, blood forming around her mouth. An old man, hair as white as the snow around him, walks over and puts his hand to her neck.

“She's dead, the poor thing is dead,” he says with a shake of his head, as if to say “its a pity”.

And that is how Andrea's life ends. Not in bed at the age of eighty, but in the streets at the age of twenty three. But it is not the end of her story. Her old world left behind, a new one awaits her in the land beyond the living.​
 
I liked it. You write well.

I'm not sure about the very last sentence though. I'll wait until I see more.

Post the rest, now.
 
Not bad, but in a couple of places your choice of words seem a little clumsy. You also drop out of tense from time to time. This detracts from the flow.

By way of example

An average day to all but the most ardent of observers.

This seems a little redundant. I don't get the impression that even the most ardent observer could pick up what is going through Andrea' mind. Until she steps in front of the traffic, I imagine that she just looks much like everyone else. Preoccupied and distracted, perhaps, but then again that is hardly an unusual sight in our teeming cities.


Her short black hair is hidden beneath a tightly knit cap, and her hands kept warm by thick gloves.

This could be standard American idiom (in which case ignore me), but do you not mean "tight knit cap", or even "tightly knitted cap"?

Her hands "are kept warm by thick gloves". Or, alternatively, are "warmed by thick gloves."


The blue sedan afterwards is far more accurate.

Very minor observation here, but is "blue sedan following after..." not a little sharper?


Lying on the ground is Andrea, blood forming around her mouth.

This is the one that really made me jolt. To tally with the rest of the piece, I think it should read "Andrea lies on the ground, blood creeping/ gathering/ dripping (but not forming - it makes it sound like a platoon of soldiers assembling for drill) around her mouth."



Regards,

Peter
 
Hi again,
I re-read your excerpt and, besides my first, general impression, I agree with Peter Graham's comments and suggestions.

Just one little detail;


Her hands "are kept warm by thick gloves". Or, alternatively, are "warmed by thick gloves."

I don't remember what this rhetorical form is called, but you can omit the second "are".
Oh, bother! It's on the tip of my tongue and I can't remember what it's called.
Anyway, the formula sounds like:

"the house is large, the tree small."

Help me Peter, you surely know.

And it could be, turning the passive form into active:

"A tightly knitted cap hides her hair; thick gloves keep her hands warm."


 
Hi, Virtual Space.

First sentence let you down, but the rest was all good.

quote
A light snow falls on a cold day in Seattle, blanketing the ground in a sea of white.

Usually, I don't like two parts of a sentence suggesting the same thing, but here you also have a place name, so it gets away with it. The opening is lah-de-dah dragged out.

perhaps
Seattle lay beneath a blanket of snow.
Now this is short and undescribing, but it's a hook. People will read on because they want to know why the city lies beneath a blanket of snow? Does that mean the whole city lays under the snow? Is this the beginning of the day after? Their imagination runs hectic. Especially if this is a paragraph by itself... and particularly, this being a prologue. That's the beauty about a hook up front. You tell them nothing more than an outline and let their minds fill in the rest. Subtle hints...

Anyway. That's my 2c, take it or leave it.

BTW, as I said. The rest was all good, and I'll watch out for your next post. :D
 
A light snow falls on a cold day in Seattle, blanketing the ground in a sea of white.
Pleonasms abound. We already know that snow is white, and [that] (“that” in this sentence also being a pleonasm) in order for snow to fall certain meteorological factors must be present, including the most important: the cold. Trimming the fat off the meat may make it appear leaner and therefore less hearty (from a descriptive standpoint), but ultimately the meal will be more enjoyable and easier on the stomach. You want the reader to have his fill, but not walk away before he's finished because he's gotten too full - more on overusing metaphors later ;)

People honk their car horns in defiance of one another. Children frolic along the street sides, catching snowflakes on their tongues. The street lights flash their usual colors. An average day to all but the most ardent of observers.
Children frolic, I know because I have one myself, but let's be realistic: First of all frolicking children is a cliché, as well, it doesn’t actually describe an action as well as you may think. To frolic means to play merrily, and if you’re attempting to create a believable world (being that it’s based in reality, I assume that you are), you want to describe the actions of the children so that we can see what they’re doing (showing rather than telling). I also wasn’t sure where you were going with the ardent observer bit, and though reading further might give that away, the effect was otherwise lost to me. An ardent observer may notice quite a few idiosyncrasies with the scene you’re painting, but not all ardent observers are looking for the same thing. You’ve created a generalization here, and that may be why it’s both confusing and nonsensical. If you’re trying to suggest that someone might observe the scene differently because of a certain inherent skill they possess, or out of psychological turmoil, explain that instead.

Walking down the sidewalk is Andrea Edgar, wrapped in a heavy, brown coat. Her short black hair is hidden beneath a tightly knit cap, and her hands kept warm by thick gloves. She rubs her hands together in a futile attempt to keep warm. It fails to keep away the clinging cold.
Again, a pleonasm – we know that the action of rubbing her hands together is futile, so being reminded that the action fails to keep away the cold is repetitive. Trim the fat. In contradiction to what I just suggested, I would recommend making the description of the character a little more colorful – you don’t have to drown us in prose, but try to hook us a little more. Why should we care about Andrea? What’s so special about her? Putting the spotlight on a character by giving her a name doesn’t set her apart – you’re forcing the reader to see her by isolating her in the scene. Instead, trick us into caring through the description. I’m sure there’s more than a few women walking down this particular street who look similar, but what is it about Andrea that demands our interest.

The world seems to slow as Andrea walks by, her dark and foreboding presence felt by all. Perhaps it is her cold stare, as cold as the air around her. Perhaps it is the mascara running down her cheeks. Or maybe, just maybe, they know what is going through her mind, what swirls in its deep, dark, abyss.
Seems – I sometimes edit every instance of this word out of a manuscript as I’m revising; it’s too often overused, and whatever it is you’re trying to say can usually be said much better without it – or so it seems. “The world slows as Andrea walks by,” it’s much more direct, and I assume most readers will get the impression that the world is slowing, rather than envision the world physically slowing – the mind is much more apt to imagining the former as it’s more believable. There are a few more clichés here as well, but I’ll move on so this critique doesn’t end up being twice the size of the excerpt.

(also, what is she walking “by” exactly – perspective?)

Andrea steps onto the street corner, watching the heavy, morning traffic streak by. The lights fade into the distance as quickly as they come. She lets the thoughts leak from her mindless depths, trickling into her conscious self. The thoughts pervade all they reach, killing off any semblance of hope she once had.
Wordiness doesn’t equal deliciousness, at least in this diner’s opinion. (I keep going back to food metaphors, I must be hungry). What exactly is a mindless depth, anyway?

“Finish it,” the voice from deep inside says, “Finish it here, nows as good a time as any.”

“I can't” Andrea mutters under her breath, a man waiting for the light eying her strangely as she says it. “I mustn't,”
There are a plethora of writing resources out there that warn against the use of adjectives, and this: “eying her strangely,” would be one I would stay away from. Simply eliminating it while restructuring the sentence can produce better results.

“I can’t,” Andrea mutters under her breath before blurting out, “I mustn’t!” A young man waiting for the light eyes her and slowly steps away. (we can assume by his actions that he’s suspicious of her)

But the thoughts take hold. In an instant, Andrea dashes out into the oncoming traffic. The first car swerves into parked car nearby, setting off its screeching alarm. The blue sedan afterwards is far more accurate.
Of all the sounds of an accident, the setting off of alarms is far less jolting than the actual sounds of the impact of something heavy hitting another heavy object – I would try describing those sounds, putting emphasis on the audio-visual trauma of an accident.

The car slams into Andrea, forcing her over the hood and onto the cold street below. No scream accompanies her death, save for the screams of those around her. A mother shields her young sons eyes from the terrible sight.

Lying on the ground is Andrea, blood forming around her mouth. An old man, hair as white as the snow around him, walks over and puts his hand to her neck.
We know she’s on the ground, reiterating it is unnecessary. Also, I have some experience in the medical field, as well as my wife – who is a critical care nurse – and even as trained professionals there is a certain level of anxiety and fear in treating a trauma patient. It is unlikely that anyone would simply walk over and assess the situation as calmly as this man does, and it’s also unlikely he would respond to her death in such a casual manner…

“She's dead, the poor thing is dead,” he says with a shake of his head, as if to say “its a pity”.
Be there with the characters, experience things the way they would, live in your world as they do. In order for the reader to invest in your creation, you must do so yourself. You need to be there, and feel as they do, breathing in the air you’ve given them, walking on the ground you’ve laid for them…reacting realistically to every situation you’ve manifested for them. Now, does the old man walk up to Andrea’s body, or does he rush to her side quickly, despite his bad knee, attempting to catch his breath (which is difficult after a 10 year battle with COPD) as he looks down on this poor, young girl who he just watched being rag-dolled over the top of a car.

And that is how Andrea's life ends. Not in bed at the age of eighty, but in the streets at the age of twenty three. But it is not the end of her story. Her old world left behind, a new one awaits her in the land beyond the living.
Considering the ending, I assume this is a prologue or some introduction to your story (or maybe it’s simply a hook for the unwitting chronicle reader?). Either way, it’s got the earmarks of a narrator, so if that’s the case, make sure you are consistent in conveying that throughout the story.

I wish I had more time to detail a few more things I saw in the excerpt, but I need to get back to my fatherly duties. Good luck, and keep on keeping on (despite the critique, I do think this piece has potential - I'm interested to learn more).
 
I enjoyed reading the language of the prologue. However I feel the way suicide was depicted was a little too superficial.
 
Hello Giovanna,

I agree entirely. You certainly could go this way, but I don't think that it is incorrect not to do so. I agree about the voice as well- active is always easier to read, especially in an action piece.

I've forgotten eveything I knew about the technical terms for this sort of thing. Vague recollections of words like "palindrome" amd "iambic pentameter" swirl in and out of the fogged corners of the Graham mind during the watches of the night, but alas, there is little room amongst all of the current boxes of mental junk - sheep breeds, Dark Ages history, asparagus beds and the numbers of obscure B roads. I blame years of fresh air and heavy claret. I now just critique on instinct, which is probably why most of it is wrong!!

Regards,

Peter
 
The rhetorical device I had forgotten.

It was a ZEUGMA!

Isn't that a beautiful word?

Several subjects with the same verb (in the example, which included one "are" for two subjects.

or

One subject with several verbs.
 
Giovanna,

By George, I think you're right!

The Kenobi-like spirit of my old classics teacher whispers to me across the years that 'Zeugma' is ancient Greek for 'yoke'. It was also a city on the Euphrates, so it's a busy little word.

There is a mountain near us called Yoke. Henceforth it shall be called Zeugma.

Who prefers egg white to egg zeugma?

Regards,

Peter
 
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