The Candleman - Short - Intro - 370w

[Precise Calibre]

A short snippet from a short story I'm writing entitled 'The Candleman'. I'm always trying to come up with short stories in order to flesh out my fantasy world, and this is no different in its goal.

I'm interested in anything fellow forum-goers might say; be it criticism, nit-picks, snide remarks or even unrelated poetry about kipper snacks.

Would you read more?

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The Candleman - Intro

A breeze streamed around the massive stone mausoleums, sending eddies of leaves curling through the narrow walkways which weaved through the cemetery - a picture of ancient remembrance. Eiseroh placed the candle upon the headstone with practiced care, reciting litanies of the honored dead to complete his ritual. The flame sputtered in the wind momentarily before it found strength and became steady.


Turning to the blackened horizon, he could see other flickering flames in the distance, some of them moving steadily through the darkness; lanterns. Like those other Candlemen, Eiseroh stalked through the vast necropolis of Stolhest nightly. Each grave was to be tended to, each fallen hero remembered.


A clink from his side as he unhooked the sheers from his belt; they had belonged to his father. The lantern, which had served as far back as his grandfather, was set upon a low pedestal nearby to better to illuminate his task. Through fanciful curved shadows cast from the iron-caged candle, Eiseroh expertly snipped errant weeds around the base of the tombstone and tossed the clippings into the fodder basket on his back. He let his eyes wander down the surface of the etched stone.


'Here lies Martrohn Geshant, who fell at the battle of Aryncleft Downs'


Another name to research in the archives; Eiseroh smiled to himself. His love of books was surpassed only by love for his wife, Deadra, who waited at home for him beyond this maze of memories. A true treasure and one of the rare women who not only loved him regardless of his profession but actually seemed to take pride in it as well. He could see her now, standing in the doorway to his cottage, gentle firelight silhouetting her lovely figure...


The smile grew wider as he pulled a soft cloth from his pocket and gave the memory of Martrohn Geshant a sound polishing. Sheathing his sheers and deftly plucking the lantern from its stone plinth, Eiseroh turned to move to his next task, humming a tune as he went. The song died abruptly in his throat as a sound worked its way into his ears.


Insistent scratching echoed from down the path where a group of mausoleums clustered like a party of stooped, old men....

 

[Pyan]

The Candleman - Intro

... Eiseroh placed the candle upon the headstone with practiced

practised

care, reciting litanies of the honored dead to complete his ritual....

...A clink from his side as he unhooked the sheers

shears

from his belt; they had belonged to his father. The lantern, which had served as far back as his grandfather, was set upon a low pedestal nearby to better to illuminate

to better illuminate - you don't need the second "to". In fact, to illuminate his task better is smoother, and avoids the split infinitive.

his task....
...Sheathing his sheers

shears, as above

Warning: UPP! (Ultra-Pedantic Point)!...

I'd have said mausolea for mausoleums throughout, but then I get annoyed with stadiums (stadia!) and forums (fora!!): I mean, you wouldn't say your hard drive is full of datums...

Interesting start, BTW, with some nice images - the only thing that jarred for me was the rather sudden eulogy to Deadra, his wife, in the middle of the extract...

 

[Toby Frost]

I'm interested in anything fellow forum-goers might say; be it criticism, nit-picks, snide remarks or even unrelated poetry about kipper snacks

Ocean's bounty, distilled before mine eyes
Into this fair packet of Scampi Fries -

Anyway.

I liked the atmosphere up till the passage mentioning the hero's wife, the mention of whom pushed my mind away from the cemetery and seemed to intrude on Eiseroh's apparent devotion to his job. I'm not sure about "a picture of ancient remembrance", partly because I'm not sure it needs to be said (it's what you've already portrayed anyway) and partly because I'm not sure who is doing the remembrancing. The names are interesting, in that they all seem to hint at different regions and/or times. The atmosphere is good, I think: there's a sense of ritual which, although sombre, isn't grim. Yes, I'd read on.

I must admit that I generally prefer the anglicised s-plural for mausoleum. But it's probably a matter of personal opinion.

 

[Boneman]

A short snippet from a short story I'm writing entitled 'The Candleman'. I'm always trying to come up with short stories in order to flesh out my fantasy world, and this is no different in its goal.

I'm interested in anything fellow forum-goers might say; be it criticism, nit-picks, snide remarks or even unrelated poetry about kipper snacks.

There once was a very small nipper,
Who woke one day, feeling quite chipper,
He said "Cowabunga!
To damp down my hunger
I'll have an extremely large Kipper".


Would you read more? Not unless the poetry improved...

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The Candleman - Intro

A breeze streamed around the massive stone mausoleums, sending eddies of leaves curling through the narrow walkways which weaved through the cemetery - a picture of ancient remembrance. An opening that is atmospheric and sets the scene, but are you trying too hard? 'Eddies of leaves' comes over as a trifle awkward, but I'm not sure that leaves 'eddying' would be any better. Maybe leaving Eddy out of the picture altogether? What is a pcture of ancient remembrance? The mausoleums, ( I prefer that to mausolea) the cemetery, or the wind and the leaves? Maybe if it was 'place' of ancient remembrance...? Eiseroh placed the candle upon the headstone with practiced care, reciting litanies of the honored dead to complete his ritual.Well, you did ask for nitpicks: mixing tenses can work very well when there are two actions happening but would it read better if you said 'Eiseroh placed the candle upon the headstone with practised care as he recited litanies of the honored dead'? Or maybe even 'and recited THE litanies...' The flame sputtered in the wind momentarily before it found strength and became steady.


Turning to the blackened horizon, Erm, why did he have to turn, wasn't it all around him? And the 'horizon' suggests miles and miles away (although I'm reliably informed that on flat land it's only three miles maximum.) it's a nitpick, but maybe it would be better if he just turned. You do tell us it's a vast necropolis, shortly, anyway. he could see other flickering flames in the distance, some of them moving steadily through the darkness; lanterns. Like those other Candlemen, Eiseroh stalked through the vast necropolis of Stolhest nightly. Each grave was to be tended to, each fallen hero remembered.


A clink from his side as he unhooked the sheers from his belt; they had belonged to his father. The lantern, so he's got a candle and lantern? Why aren't they called Lanternmen? Especially if there's a history to the lanterns that doesn't exist with the candles. which had served as far back as his grandfather, was set upon a low pedestal nearby to better to illuminate his task.Wasn't it on the headstone? Through fanciful curved shadows cast from the iron-caged candle,so it is a lantern? I'm confused... Eiseroh expertly snipped errant weeds around the base of the tombstone and tossed the clippings into the fodder basket on his back. He let his eyes wander down the surface of the etched stone.


'Here lies Martrohn Geshant, who fell at the battle of Aryncleft Downs'


Another name to research in the archives; Eiseroh smiled to himself. His love of books was surpassed only by love for his wife, Deadra, who waited at home for him beyond this maze of memories. A true treasure and one of the rare women who not only loved him regardless of his profession but actually seemed to take pride in it as well. He could see her now, standing in the doorway to his cottage, gentle firelight silhouetting her lovely figure... I agree with Pyan and Toby, it's a little out of place here. If you stopped after 'Deadra', that would do it - tell us about his obsession with books and his wife, without over-egging it so much.


The smile grew wider as he pulled a soft cloth from his pocket and gave the memory of Martrohn Geshant a sound polishing.I like that... Sheathing his sheers and deftly plucking the lantern from its stone plinth,pedestal or headstone...? Eiseroh turned to move to his next task,? turned to his next task, otherwise it sounds like he's only turned and not yet moved... humming a tune as he went. The song died abruptly in his throat as a sound worked its way into his ears. Erm, a little too distracting this - I saw insects burrowing into his external auditory meatus (the ear), working hard to get there. Wouldn't 'as a low sound reached him' be acceptable?


Insistent scratching echoed from down the path where a group of mausoleums clustered like a party of stooped, old men.... I'm assuming the scratching's coming from inside the mausoleum, but it sounds like it's coming from down the path. And the description of the mausoleums would be better off in the first paragraph. Even if it is pitch black (blackened Horizon) and you can't see past the light your lantern throws...

Would I read on? Definitely... You'll notice we've only nitpicked, which is good, there's not a thing majorly wrong with it. Excellent premise, and a great place to start a story.

 

[HareBrain]

I think you might be guilty of falling into a "fantasy style" that almost suffocates the atmosphere of the place you've created. I think Boneman's right about trying too hard, and it's easy to do, because it's not easy to recognise that the elements you've brought together can create atmosphere almost without you having to do anything.

A breeze streamed around the massive stone mausoleums, sending eddies of leaves curling through the narrow walkways which weaved through the cemetery - a picture of ancient remembrance.

I'm with TobyTwo -- I don't think you need "a picture of ancient remembrance". For my money, all you have to do here is paint, in simple terms, the idea of a breeze causing leaves to blow around in the narrow walkways between mausoleums. The reader will create the atmosphere automatically from such ingredients; adopting a certain style with the aim of encouraging such atmosphere isn't necessary (though this is also a matter of personal taste).

And did you mean "swirling" rather than "curling"? That would be a more usual word, and the fact that you've chosen something so similar threw me slightly. You then do it too with "the candle sputtered" whereas I think you might mean "guttered"?

Turning to the blackened horizon, he could see other flickering flames in the distance, some of them moving steadily through the darkness; lanterns.

I agree with other comments about the horizon. I think here you've lost the feel of the necropolis you built up with the narrow walkways etc; if they're that narrow, how can he see far? A bit more detailed description wouldn't go amiss, since it's a place worth describing.

Like those other Candlemen, Eiseroh stalked through the vast necropolis of Stolhest nightly.

This would make a brilliant opening line (taking out "those" and probably "through").

His love of books was surpassed only by love for his wife, Deadra, who waited at home for him beyond this maze of memories. A true treasure and one of the rare women who not only loved him regardless of his profession but actually seemed to take pride in it as well. He could see her now, standing in the doorway to his cottage, gentle firelight silhouetting her lovely figure...

Again, as others have said, it doesn't feel natural for his thoughts to turn to dwelling on her; the link between her and his current task feels too tenuous. Sure, in real life, people's thoughts wander all over the place, but this feels like a contrivance to allow you to introduce particular information.

Insistent scratching echoed from down the path where a group of mausoleums clustered like a party of stooped, old men....

"Echoed" feels a slightly careless word choice. Would scratching really cause an echo? Otherwise, I think the description of the mausoleums as being liked stooped old men diffuses slightly the tension of the scratching. You might want to try describing them as he looks towards the source of the noise, before identifying the noise as scratching.

Having said all that, I think there's a basis of something good here, and I like the ritual element and the generational aspect to his job, which perhaps you would have room to bring out more if you cut back a little in other areas.

 

[Precise Calibre]

The really annoying thing is that I spent like 30 minutes, off and on, earlier today at work, responding to the first three posts only to get a "you're not logged in" error that deleted everything I had typed out. Most annoying.

Anyway

Thank you all for your responses - there's nothing better than having a few sets of eyes on something (especially toast).

practised

I'm from the US and therefor inclined to use "practice" for everything, regardless of verb or noun. I must admit though, it does seem a little more proper upon seeing it as "practised"

shears

Yep, now I feel like taking my hands off with a pair of them (shears not sheers)... what a silly mistake. Thanks

to better illuminate

You know, I didn't even notice I had a second "to" there until you pointed it out, despite the fact that I read through the piece four times and revised it each time. Again, a fresh set of eyes can often see what the creator was blind to.

An opening that is atmospheric and sets the scene, but are you trying too hard? 'Eddies of leaves' comes over as a trifle awkward, but I'm not sure that leaves 'eddying' would be any better. Maybe leaving Eddy out of the picture altogether? What is a pcture of ancient remembrance? The mausoleums, ( I prefer that to mausolea) the cemetery, or the wind and the leaves? Maybe if it was 'place' of ancient remembrance...?
+
I'm not sure about "a picture of ancient remembrance", partly because I'm not sure it needs to be said (it's what you've already portrayed anyway) and partly because I'm not sure who is doing the remembrancing.
+
I'm with TobyTwo -- I don't think you need "a picture of ancient remembrance". For my money, all you have to do here is paint, in simple terms, the idea of a breeze causing leaves to blow around in the narrow walkways between mausoleums. The reader will create the atmosphere automatically from such ingredients; adopting a certain style with the aim of encouraging such atmosphere isn't necessary (though this is also a matter of personal taste).

I'm guilty of over-describing things for sure. I'll revise the intro and try again. I had left "a picture of ancient remembrance" in the piece, despite the fact that I was probably going to remove it - still wanted to see what others would say. Eddy is out of the picture for sure, which will definitely require me to change the curl.

You then do it too with "the candle sputtered" whereas I think you might mean "guttered"?

I'm not sure why I didn't make it "guttered", I'll blame it on lead in the water.

I agree with other comments about the horizon. I think here you've lost the feel of the necropolis you built up with the narrow walkways etc; if they're that narrow, how can he see far? A bit more detailed description wouldn't go amiss, since it's a place worth describing.

I need to rewrite the description a bit. Unfortunately I realized I have forgotten some key elements which would be important to the reader about understanding how the necropolis is structured.

Again, as others have said, it doesn't feel natural for his thoughts to turn to dwelling on her; the link between her and his current task feels too tenuous. Sure, in real life, people's thoughts wander all over the place, but this feels like a contrivance to allow you to introduce particular information.
+
liked the atmosphere up till the passage mentioning the hero's wife, the mention of whom pushed my mind away from the cemetery and seemed to intrude on Eiseroh's apparent devotion to his job.
+
agree with Pyan and Toby, it's a little out of place here. If you stopped after 'Deadra', that would do it - tell us about his obsession with books and his wife, without over-egging it so much.
+
Interesting start, BTW, with some nice images - the only thing that jarred for me was the rather sudden eulogy to Deadra, his wife, in the middle of the extract...

The consensus is there, so I'll have him stop his excessive mental gushing about his wife... or else! *Threatens character with a literary truncheon*

"Echoed" feels a slightly careless word choice. Would scratching really cause an echo? Otherwise, I think the description of the mausoleums as being liked stooped old men diffuses slightly the tension of the scratching. You might want to try describing them as he looks towards the source of the noise, before identifying the noise as scratching.
+
I'm assuming the scratching's coming from inside the mausoleum, but it sounds like it's coming from down the path. And the description of the mausoleums would be better off in the first paragraph. Even if it is pitch black (blackened Horizon) and you can't see past the light your lantern throws...

The scratching sound is, in fact, coming from down the down the path, amidst the mausoleums - I wrote it specifically to make that point clear. I'll see if I can rewrite it to avoid calling it echoing, maybe flip the sentence.

so he's got a candle and lantern? Why aren't they called Lanternmen? Especially if there's a history to the lanterns that doesn't exist with the candles.

He has a satchel full of candles to pay tribute to the dead with, which I'll try to make more clear - and he has a candle-lantern(one of the oldest kinds of lanterns) which uses the same candles.

Well, you did ask for nitpicks: mixing tenses can work very well when there are two actions happening but would it read better if you said 'Eiseroh placed the candle upon the headstone with practised care as he recited litanies of the honored dead'? Or maybe even 'and recited THE litanies...'

Rewriting so it reads "Eiseroh placed the candle upon the headstone with practised care and recited litanies of the honored dead".

Erm, a little too distracting this - I saw insects burrowing into his external auditory meatus (the ear), working hard to get there. Wouldn't 'as a low sound reached him' be acceptable?

I have the nasty habit of trying to add too much characterization to the description of even the most insubstantial things. I'll try to make it a little less buggy.

====

I will take these points in and attempt to better this piece. Look for a revised edition in the future along with perhaps some continuation. Thanks all for your input and for your lovely poetry!

 

[Precise Calibre]

Redux: I've rewritten it in an attempt to smooth the flow and clarify some descriptions, after taking into account feedback. How does this version read?

------------------------------

The Candleman - Intro

A breeze streamed around the massive stone mausoleums, sending leaves swirling through the narrow walkways which weaved through the cemetery. Eiseroh placed a ceremonial candle upon the headstone before him with practised care and recited litanies of the honored dead to complete his ritual. The candle's flame guttered in the wind momentarily before it found strength and became steady.


Turning to gaze down the tombstone-lined slope, he could see other flickering flames in the distance, some of them moving steadily through the darkness; lanterns. Like other Candlemen, Eiseroh stalked the vast necropolis of Stolhest nightly; from the tomb district where he stood, all the way down to the grave-wilds beyond the cemetery walls. Each grave was to be tended to, each fallen hero remembered.


A clink from his side as he unhooked the shears from his belt; they had belonged to his father. He set his candle-lantern, which had served as far back as his grandfather, upon a low pedestal nearby to better illuminate his task. Through fanciful curved shadows cast from the iron-caged candle, Eiseroh expertly snipped errant weeds around the base of the tombstone and tossed the clippings into the fodder basket on his back. He let his eyes wander down the surface of the etched stone.


'Here lies Martrohn Geshant, who fell at the battle of Aryncleft Downs'


Another name to research in the archives; Eiseroh smiled to himself. His love of books was surpassed only by love for his wife, Deadra, who waited at home for him beyond this maze of memories.


The smile grew wider as he pulled a soft cloth from his pocket and gave the memory of Martrohn Geshant a sound polishing. Sheathing his shears and deftly plucking up his lantern, Eiseroh turned to his next task, humming a tune as he went. The song died abruptly in his throat. A sound made itself heard from down the path where a group of mausoleums stood like stooped, old men; a persistent scratching noise.

--------------------------

More to come soon!

 

[J Riff]

S'Good PC - if you rewrite again, perhaps focus a little more on Eisoroh instead of the graveyard. I dunno ... maybe:
Eiseroh placed a ceremonial candle upon the headstone before him, with practised care. He recited litanies to the honored dead, which completed his ritual. The candle's flame guttered in the wind before it found strength and steadied. Leaves swirled through the narrow walkways which weaved through the cemetery as he....
Don't be afraid to cut n' paste paragraphs like this it can produce some good results, from your own words.

 

[Droflet]

This flows a lot better PC. I actually read the first version but by then you had a half dozen good crits. Anyway, for an opening this sort of works. It makes me wonder where it's going, and that can't be a bad thing. Well done.

 

[Boneman]

Yes, very much better.

Still a little confused about the candle on the headstone... (though not about a 'candle in the wind' - was that a deliberate single entendre?) does he leave it there, and is the candle lantern different? It sounds as though they're two separate entities, in which case, is he worried about fire if he just leaves candles burning on a headstone? If they are separate, then ignore me...

 

[Karn Maeshalanadae]

First thing I have to nitpick about is Pyan's response-"practiced" rather than "practised" is the accepted spelling in the United States. Even Google Chrome here marks the "s" version as being incorrectly spelled.


Beyond that, I would indeed like to read more of this. It's a little gloomy and down for an intro, but certainly intriguing enough. Unless, of course, funeral rites and ritualistic honoring of the dead is what mostly happens throughout.

 

[Precise Calibre]

Thank you for all of your responses thus far; you have all been wonderfully helpful!

It is indeed a matter of two separate candles. I shall entitle it "A Tale of Two Candles"... errr.... never mind.

Anyway, onwards to part two!

-------------------------------

Creeping forward, inch by inch, Eiseroh made his way towards the scratching sounds. He could feel the thump of his heart in his throat, which had gone dry. A pale, green light was glowing from around the corner. He steeled himself and approached, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.
Slipping around the corner to confront the intruder, Eiseroh took in the scene in an instant and swore to himself, embarrassed.


A Vervohlst regarded his apparently unsurprising advent only briefly before turning its sightless head back to its task; slowly scraping the stonework before it with a coarse brush.


Eiseroh hated them, the Vervohlsts. They unnerved him – it seemed as though they had tried so hard to be human and yet had still failed miserably. The one before him wore plain yet seemingly flawless garments of grey linen over sallow skin. They fit its small frame perfectly, making the whole of it seem like a hideous mockery of a child. Its gnarled claw-hands grasping the brush and featureless, green orb of a head only added to the revulsion Eiseroh felt churning in his stomach.


The Grey Council called them caretakers. How could they see what to care for without eyes? Why did they glow that sickly yellowish green? Come to think of it, why was this one servicing a mausoleum above ground? Vervohlsts were almost never seen outside of the catacombs, which Eiseroh avoided whenever possible. It was not part of his honorable duties to care for the dead interred within the deep – that was the realm of the Vervohlst. This was most unusual and more than a little worrying – he felt he should inform the Greyguard.


Eiseroh looked back down the slope to see if he could spot any of the tell-tale torch flames of a Greyguard patrol; their magicked red fires were easy to notice even on the darkest of nights. He saw no such torches in the distance. He would have to go searching for a patrol instead, though it meant he'd have to delay his duties for a while – so be it.


He turned to assess the Vervohlst once more and was taken aback when it was gone. The alleyway was dark, now lacking the dull glow of the creature's swollen head. Eiseroh dashed down the path, sparing glances between each tomb in his search. The cursed thing was nowhere to be seen. Could this night get any more strange?


“Perhaps I should just get back to work...” he muttered to himself.


If anything else happened, he'd report it for sure, but he had wasted enough of his time on useless, pint-sized grave-dolls. The dead were his charges and he had to see to their proper care.


“Maybe I oughta go down in the tunnels and start doin' their jobs for em... Bah!” The Vervohlst had put Eiseroh in a sour mood, though he could feel his nerves calming slowly as he resumed his work.

 

[HareBrain]

Just a quick couple of comments about the first paragraph.

He could feel the thump of his heart in his throat, which had gone dry. A pale, green light was glowing from around the corner. He steeled himself and approached, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

For my taste, you should watch out for "he could feel" etc: since we're in his POV, you don't need to tell us that he can feel something, only what it is that he feels. So you could replace the first line with "His heart jumped in his dry throat" or something like it. (Even "he felt" rather than "he could feel" would be preferable.)

Other nitpicks. Why "was glowing" rather than "glowed"? And do you need "at a moment's notice"? Why not just "ready to bolt"?

Otherwise an effective second part, though I did wonder about the "come to think of it". If these creatures (whose names you should italicise consistently) spend almost all their time below ground, where he never ventures, I would have thought the strangeness of one being above ground would be the first thing he "comments" on, rather than their appearance. (Although I realise that rewriting his thoughts with this first might be tricky.)