Out of the Frying Pan (Ch 1, conclusion)

[Anne Martin]

This is the second part of chapter one. Be sure to read at least the end of the first part, or you won't understand much of it. I was a little unsure of what POV to use for her thoughts, especially when they merge with Aba's thoughts. I originally had them in third person, but I've switched them to first.


Out of the Frying Pan (Ch 1, pt 2)


Stooping over, Lena dipped her hand in the water again. The floor of the pool was smooth and hard like glass. Her hand disappeared into the opaque liquid. It was warm, like blood.

Why that metaphor? It was the same temperature as her body, a slightly raised 98.7 degrees Fahrenheit, exactly.

How could I know that?

The liquid didn't drip from her hand as she lifted it out. It was as if it became part of her on contact.

At the centre of the pool, she felt safe, but she couldn't stay there. Equidistant from all points on the shore, she estimated a half mile walk in any direction, provided that the pool was only an inch deep all the way. As there were no identifying features, she chose to walk towards the rising sun.

How could I know it was rising?

Gingerly, she stepped forward, not making the slightest disturbance in the liquid. Another step, then another. After a few more, she increased her pace, becoming confident.

Whoosh! She had stepped off the ledge, stumbling into the pool. Swimming back to the platform, she hoisted herself back up and took stock. The gun was gone, her clothes were gone, and her hair. Somehow she knew that would grow back, eventually, but metallic. With a long lean athletic build, she had never had problems pulling the blokes, but now she was a naked, chrome goddess. Instinctively, she had closed her eyes but had taken a mouthful of the liquid, so the inside of her mouth matched the rest.

Lena sat on the edge of a platform one molecule thick, in the centre of a bottomless lake. Both the platform and the lake were a perfect circle. As the chrome liquid spread through her veins … Aba, that was what it was called … her awareness expanded. She had taken the Aba's colouring inside and out, except for her eyes which had become as black as the sun.

Aba was her blood, her life … and she knew that she could even breathe it like air.

What have I become, and how did I get here?

“Hell-fire,” she repeated into the dead air. It was a word used often in sermons by her grandfather, an old-fashioned country parson. If you were bad, you were banished to Hell, to be consumed by Hell-fire. It seemed a strange choice of word to use in a moment of reckless abandon, seconds before certain death.

“Am I dead?” she asked aloud, but she already knew the answer. She felt more alive than she ever had. The Aba comforted her, or she might have gone nuts already. Aba's post-coital taste overpowered the stench of rotten flesh that surrounded the lake, named Aba of course, and she would soon have to brave this strange world, naked and unprotected other than by her Aba skin.

Was this hell? Was she a bad person? Lena had played loose with her body, having a reputation for being an easy lay at university, but she hadn't done anything outrageously evil, no killing or stealing. Was living naked to be her punishment? Was this the second circle of Hell? She was a top student as well as an accomplished athlete, and she had only taken a job at Transdex Holdings to pay the mortgage on her London flat until something more interesting came along. That was ten years ago, and she was still waiting.

“My name is Aba,” she said, as the liquid finished taking over her body.

No, we were one all along, since the beginning of time.

That confused her. Her insatiable desire for sex had stemmed from her need to be like Aba – the smell, the taste – to be home. Where was home?

Hell-fire, or more accurately, Helfyre.

 

[Grimbear]

Hey Anne,

This is the second part of chapter one. Be sure to read at least the end of the first part, or you won't understand much of it. I was a little unsure of what POV to use for her thoughts, especially when they merge with Aba's thoughts. I originally had them in third person, but I've switched them to first.


Out of the Frying Pan (Ch 1, pt 2)


Stooping over, Lena dipped her hand in the water again. The floor of the pool was smooth and hard like glass. Her hand disappeared into the opaque liquid. It was warm, like blood.

Why that metaphor? It was the same temperature as her body, a slightly raised 98.7 degrees Fahrenheit, exactly.

How could I know that?

I think you should drop the line 'It was warm like blood' - The following sentence is better as says all you need to say

The liquid didn't drip from her hand as she lifted it out. It was as if it became part of her on contact. Get rid of 'on contact' imo

At the centre of the pool, (no comma here) she felt safe, but she couldn't stay there. Equidistant from all points on the shore, she estimated a half mile walk in any direction, provided that the pool was only an inch deep all the way. As there were no identifying features, she chose to walk towards the rising sun. (why would she walk in this direction? Most people would shose to walk with the sun on one shoulder to avoid the glare)

How could I know it was rising?

Gingerly, (again you don't need this comma) she stepped forward, not making the slightest disturbance in the liquid. Another step, then another. After a few more, she increased her pace, becoming more? confident.

Whoosh! (imo you shouldn't use words like whoosh ever - unless in speech maybe and then rarely)She had stepped off the ledge, stumbling into the pool. Swimming back to the platform, she hoisted herself back up and took stock. The gun was gone, her clothes were gone, and her hair. Somehow she knew that would grow back, eventually, but metallic. I don't think this is the right way to describe this - I don't know why but I just don't like it. See what others say - and if anyone agrees with me. With a long, lean athletic build, she had never had problems pulling the blokes,? I think you should leave that out. but now she was a naked, chrome goddess. Instinctively, she had closed her eyes but had taken a mouthful of the liquid, so the inside of her mouth matched the rest.

Lena sat on the edge of a platform one molecule thick, in the centre of a bottomless lake. Both the platform and the lake were a perfect circle. As the chrome liquid spread through her veins … Aba, that was what it was called … her awareness expanded. She had taken the Aba's colouring inside and out, except for her eyes which had become as black as the sun.

Aba was her blood, her life … and she knew that she could even breathe it like air.

What have I become, and how did I get here?

“Hell-fire,” she repeated into the dead air. It was a word used often in sermons by her grandfather, an old-fashioned country parson. If you were bad, you were banished to Hell, to be consumed by Hell-fire. It seemed a strange choice of word to use in a moment of reckless abandon, seconds before certain death.

“Am I dead?” she asked aloud, but she already knew the answer. She felt more alive than she ever had. The Aba comforted her, or she might have gone nuts already. Aba's post-coital taste overpowered the stench of rotten flesh that surrounded the lake, named Aba of course, and she would soon have to brave this strange world, naked and unprotected other than by her Aba skin.

The last sentence doesn't read so well imo. ....'other than by'...how about 'excepting' or 'except' or maybe 'but for her Aba skin'?

Was this hell? Was she a bad person? Lena had played loose with her body, having a reputation for being an easy lay at university, but she hadn't done anything outrageously evil, no killing or stealing. Was living naked to be her punishment? Was this the second circle of Hell? She was a top student as well as an accomplished athlete, and she had only taken a job at Transdex Holdings to pay the mortgage on her London flat until something more interesting came along. That was ten years ago, and she was still waiting.

“My name is Aba,” she said, as the liquid finished taking over her body.

No, we were one all along, since the beginning of time.

That confused her. Her insatiable desire for sex had stemmed from her need to be like Aba – the smell, the taste – to be home. Where was home?

Hell-fire, or more accurately, Helfyre.

I've got to say I preferred the first part of this - the office fight. Here, too much seems to be happening too soon. Much more preferable is a slower alteration. She accepts everything too quickly, too easily imo.

There is a lot of nice detail here and it's imaginative and interesting but I also think there's a few thing that need working on. The slangy parts, like when she refers to herself as having been 'an easy lay' for example, jar with the more elegant and poetic descriptions - for example 'disappeared into the opaque liquid'. It should either be all slangy or no slang.

Hope that's of some help anyway

Grim

 

[Hex]

This is the second part of chapter one. Be sure to read at least the end of the first part, or you won't understand much of it. I was a little unsure of what POV to use for her thoughts, especially when they merge with Aba's thoughts. I originally had them in third person, but I've switched them to first.

I liked both of the things you've put up very much. I only have a few comments.

Out of the Frying Pan (Ch 1, pt 2)


Stooping over, Lena dipped her hand in the water again. The floor of the pool was smooth and hard like glass. Her hand disappeared into the opaque liquid. It was warm, like blood.
"like glass... like blood" - two likes in close proximity. I love the sentence "Her hand disappeared..."

Why that metaphor? It was the same temperature as her body, a slightly raised 98.7 degrees Fahrenheit, exactly.

How could I know that?

The liquid didn't drip from her hand as she lifted it out. It was as if it became part of her on contact.

At the centre of the pool, she felt safe, but she couldn't stay there. Equidistant from all points on the shore, she estimated a half mile walk in any direction, provided that the pool was only an inch deep all the way. As there were no identifying features, she chose to walk towards the rising sun.

How could I know it was rising?

Gingerly, she stepped forward, not making the slightest disturbance in the liquid. Another step, then another. After a few more, she increased her pace, becoming confident.

Whoosh! She had stepped off the ledge, stumbling into the pool. Swimming back to the platform, she hoisted herself back up and took stock.

This bit, beginning "Whoosh!..." didn't have the impact I anticipated, somehow. I didn't get the shock I thought I should have. I don't know why not (sorry, that's not hugely helpful).

I also get the impression from later that she went under the water - did she? It was that her hair was gone, and I visualised it all going, her being completely silver. If that's so, then she submerges, which must have been scary - and very strange.

The gun was gone, her clothes were gone, and her hair. Somehow she knew that would grow back, eventually, but metallic. With a long lean athletic build, she had never had problems pulling the blokes, but now she was a naked, chrome goddess. Instinctively, she had closed her eyes but had taken a mouthful of the liquid, so the inside of her mouth matched the rest.

Generally I tend to agree with Grim, but in this one place I disagree - I liked the "pulling the blokes" bit because I thought we were inside Lena's head, but then the "chrome goddess" rang strange for me because - is she thinking of herself as a goddess? Can she see herself somehow? Is she really that impressed by herself? (so - the effect is really powerful but I sympathise with her less because she seems a bit arrogant)

Lena sat on the edge of a platform one molecule thick, in the centre of a bottomless lake. Both the platform and the lake were a perfect circle. As the chrome liquid spread through her veins … Aba, that was what it was called … her awareness expanded. She had taken the Aba's colouring inside and out, except for her eyes which had become as black as the sun.

Aba was her blood, her life … and she knew that she could even breathe it like air.

What have I become, and how did I get here?

I thought these first person thoughts worked well.

“Hell-fire,” she repeated into the dead air. It was a word used often in sermons by her grandfather, an old-fashioned country parson. If you were bad, you were banished to Hell, to be consumed by Hell-fire. It seemed a strange choice of word to use in a moment of reckless abandon, seconds before certain death.

“Am I dead?” she asked aloud, but she already knew the answer. She felt more alive than she ever had. The Aba comforted her, or she might have gone nuts already. Aba's post-coital taste overpowered the stench of rotten flesh that surrounded the lake, named Aba of course, and she would soon have to brave this strange world, naked and unprotected other than by her Aba skin.

Was this hell? Was she a bad person? Lena had played loose with her body, having a reputation for being an easy lay at university, but she hadn't done anything outrageously evil, no killing or stealing. Was living naked to be her punishment? Was this the second circle of Hell? She was a top student as well as an accomplished athlete, and she had only taken a job at Transdex Holdings to pay the mortgage on her London flat until something more interesting came along. That was ten years ago, and she was still waiting.

Again, I'm happily in Lena's head with her being an easy lay, and then she thinks of herself (?) as an "accomplished athlete" which doesn't sound as much like the sort of thing you'd think about yourself as a way others would describe you.

“My name is Aba,” she said, as the liquid finished taking over her body.

No, we were one all along, since the beginning of time.

That confused her. Her insatiable desire for sex had stemmed from her need to be like Aba – the smell, the taste – to be home. Where was home?

Hell-fire, or more accurately, Helfyre.


I love the tie in between sex and Aba.

I'm really keen to see what happens with the reference to Helfyre.

I agree, though, that she seems to accept things very easily. I understand that this has always been going to happen, and it is natural for her now, but it distanced me from her because if I found myself in the middle of a silver lake somewhere that smelled of sex/ rotting flesh I would be very alarmed.

This came across very powerfully for me in the bit I marked above, where she steps off the ledge into deep liquid but doesn't much react to swallowing it etc except by noticing her hair etc is gone. She wonders at the start how she knows things, but then she doesn't ever seem even a little freaked out.

I've gone on about that at length but only because I need some sleep and can't seem to explain what I mean. I loved this. I love the weird, alien dream-like quality.

This is such an intriguing beginning - I really enjoyed it (which is the wrong word - it made me anxious and weirdly uncomfortable as well as fascinating me).

 

[Mouse]

Stooping over, Lena dipped her hand in the water again. The floor of the pool was smooth and hard like glass. Her hand disappeared into the opaque liquid. It was warm, like blood.

Why that metaphor? It was the same temperature as her body, a slightly raised 98.7 degrees Fahrenheit, exactly.

How could I know that?

The liquid didn't drip from her hand as she lifted it out. It was as if it became part of her on contact.

At the centre of the pool, she felt safe, but she couldn't stay there. Equidistant eh?! from all points on the shore, she estimated a half mile walk in any direction, provided that the pool was only an inch deep all the way. As there were no identifying features, she chose to walk towards the rising sun. I have no idea what's going on in this paragraph at all and I've read it several times.

How could I know it was rising?

Gingerly, she stepped forward, not making the slightest disturbance in the liquid. Another step, then another. After a few more, she increased her pace, becoming confident.

Whoosh! really? She had stepped off the ledge, stumbling into the pool. Swimming back to the platform, she hoisted herself back up and took stock. The gun was gone, her clothes were gone, and her hair. Somehow she knew that would grow back, eventually, but metallic. With a long lean athletic build, she had never had problems pulling the blokes, but now she was a naked, chrome goddess. Instinctively, she had closed her eyes but had taken a mouthful of the liquid, so the inside of her mouth matched the rest.

Lena sat on the edge of a platform one molecule thick, in the centre of a bottomless lake. Both the platform and the lake were a perfect circle. As the chrome liquid spread through her veins … Aba, that was what it was called … her awareness expanded. She had taken the Aba's colouring inside and out, except for her eyes which had become as black as the sun.

Aba was her blood, her life … and she knew that she could even breathe it like air.

What have I become, and how did I get here?

“Hell-fire,” she repeated into the dead air. It was a word used often in sermons by her grandfather, an old-fashioned country parson. If you were bad, you were banished to Hell, to be consumed by Hell-fire. It seemed a strange choice of word to use in a moment of reckless abandon, seconds before certain death.

“Am I dead?” she asked aloud, but she already knew the answer. She felt more alive than she ever had. cliché, I think. The Aba comforted her, or she might have gone nuts already. Aba's post-coital taste overpowered the stench of rotten flesh that surrounded the lake, named Aba of course, why say it's called Aba again? and she would soon have to brave this strange world, naked and unprotected other than by her Aba skin.

Was this hell? Was she a bad person? Lena had played loose with her body, having a reputation for being an easy lay at university, but she hadn't done anything outrageously evil, no killing or stealing. Was living naked to be her punishment? Was this the second circle of Hell? She was a top student as well as an accomplished athlete, and she had only taken a job at Transdex Holdings to pay the mortgage on her London flat until something more interesting came along. That was ten years ago, and she was still waiting.

“My name is Aba,” she said, as the liquid finished taking over her body.

No, we were one all along, since the beginning of time.

That confused her. Her insatiable desire for sex had stemmed from her need to be like Aba – the smell, the taste – to be home. Where was home?

Hell-fire, or more accurately, Helfyre.

Her grandfather... Is he English too? Because to me, he seems American.

It's very interesting still.

 

[Anne Martin]

Thanks, everyone. It's funny that all the things I added at the last minute were the ones that got picked on. Whoosh, unfortunately, was there from the start, but I do agree that I need another paragraph there about being submerged. I was trying to find something to portray the sudden-ness of taking a step and finding nothing there.

About the chrome goddess (and tangentially the accomplished athlete). I was trying to have her project what others might see her as. In essence, she's a walking mirror, and she knows she is reasonably attractive. The athlete bit comes in later, too, although she is about to swim a half mile, and she has to be fit enough to do that. Originally, she mentioned being in training for a triathlon, but that was a little overboard.

The academics, athletics and even the parson (using the unusual American lingo) were programming her for her future without her knowledge. We learn a little of what that is in the next couple of chapters, but only through hearsay. And in a way, her describing herself as a goddess will soon ring true in a literal sense. She has become the living, breathing incarnation of Aba.

More later...

 

[Grimbear]

About the chrome goddess (and tangentially the accomplished athlete). I was trying to have her project what others might see her as. In essence, she's a walking mirror, and she knows she is reasonably attractive. The athlete bit comes in later, too, although she is about to swim a half mile, and she has to be fit enough to do that. Originally, she mentioned being in training for a triathlon, but that was a little overboard.

But we are seeing through her eyes and therefore it makes the writing awkward to keep changing the POV. I've read back over all the critiques and I think this is one main thing we all picked up on in different ways. Stick with seeing out of her eyes and it will run much smoother.

 

[J Riff]

Maybe Splash! instead of Whoosh... I was momentarily confused by that paragraph because whoosh made me think she flew away or something.

 

[Boneman]

I like it... it's atmospheric and I think you've set the right tone in your descriptive prose of this new world. You've had some good feedback already, so I'll just highlight a couple of nitpicks...

Just two words jarred with me, and seemed to be out of place:
1) 'blokes' - possibly even the whole phrase 'pulling the blokes'. If she's starting to take on the person of Aba I'd prefer something that's more in keeping with the mystery of what's happened. It jolted me a bit 'she'd never had problems attracting men' ??
2)'Nuts' 'she might have gone nuts already', just isn't in keeping with the the fuidity of the words we've now come to expect in your description. Might have lost her mind??

Aba wouldn't say those things... I knew her at Uni, and she was very proper spoken. A nympho, but very proper-spoken...

 

[Anne Martin]

Lena is doing her best not to take on Aba's "personality." She discovers in the next chapter that Aba is a community consciousness/nirvana, not a single personality, and a model of mathematical perfection. (When Lena's hair grows back, it hangs in a subtle fractal geometry, not visible to the naked eye.)

If Lena were anyone else, her self would be lost to that consciousness, and she would lose her form. The only thing left of Lena is her distinct consciousness, as her body has been replaced by Aba (the element). Lena's self maintains her form, and if that is lost Aba would not be able to leave the lake and search for the reason for her foreboding. Lena can tap into the consciousness, but if she abandons herself, her reason for being is gone.

Your comment about going nuts is probably right (and too American), but "pulling blokes" is something that nympho London lasses long to do.

 

[Boneman]

Your comment about going nuts is probably right (and too American), but "pulling blokes" is something that nympho London lasses long to do.

Dammit, I knew I should have moved to London... But I accept the idea that Lena is trying to maintain her own consciousness/id. They were only nitpicks, anyway....

 

[Anne Martin]

Dammit, I knew I should have moved to London... .

... or York (Hen night capital of England). You'll find them on Friday and Saturday nights stalking the town centre, usually wearing pink boas ... or at least something pink ... and something very short that I wouldn't be caught dead in.


Actually, "blokes" might be a more northern word ...

 

[RJM Corbet]

I agree with Boneman, the only comments one can make are nitpicks, you have your own, well practiced style, the story is intriguing.

Oh: 'PEEKED' not 'PEAKED' -- in the context!

 

[Anne Martin]

I agree with Boneman, the only comments one can make are nitpicks, you have your own, well practiced style, the story is intriguing.

Oh: 'PEEKED' not 'PEAKED' -- in the context!

That was in part 1. I think I have it figured out now. It was just a typo.

 

[RJM Corbet]

That was in part 1. I think I have it figured out now. It was just a typo.

I know. I posted at the end of part two, that's all. The rewrite seems to have worked, on part one, although I saw no real need, but it's always possible to improve a page.