Scene Rewrite

[AnyaKimlin]

The Allerswick Bomb is case Ian worked on early in his career readers are already aware of it. I don't know why just bombsite doesn't feel right but it didn't lol

A gust of wind creaked the brown-painted door that clung to its hinges. Ian gave it a shove, it stopped its desperate attempt at survival and crashed to the ground. He coughed and held his handkerchief over his nose. An acrid, sweet stench made his eyes water; it fell somewhere between burned marshmallows and human decomposition. When he looked back at Dr Innes' impassive face she nodded encouragement.

“Tim, Joe. Where are you?” he shouted. “You here?” Closing his eyes, he took a moment to compose himself and walked over the stricken door.

What the… Wilf’s normally immaculate kitchen resembled a bombsite. It took a moment for Ian to stop comparing it to the Allerswick bomb. Devastation met Ian’s eyes everywhere he looked. Scorch marks decorated the walls. The cupboard doors all stood open, empty. Broken crockery, spilled food, bashed tins lay over the worktops and floor. Crap! Only splinters were left of what had been a solid oak table. Fragments of plate glass cracked under his feet; a large slice from a smashed mirror had embedded itself in Wilf’s armchair, right where his head would have been. Wadding bled out from the gash. Zombie-like Ian picked up a side table and put it back next to Wilf’s chair. He squatted down and plucked a photograph from the wreckage of its frame. Copenhagen last year… the first time they’d held hands in public and a friend had captured the moment … Wilf, where are you? Focused on the picture he rose to his feet. “What happened here?” he shouted to the ether. A thick wet tongue licked his hand and he patted Gandalf. “Did you see, old boy?”

Gandalf whimpered, lay down on the floor and covered his eyes with his paws. Concerned for him Ian put the picture down, lifted Gandalf to his feet and brushed the glass off. A quick inspection of the dog revealed no serious injuries. “Where are Joe and Tim?” He raised his head as he addressed Dr Innes.

Her calm, collected expression had melted and tears ran down her cheeks as she surveyed the debris. She gripped her bag tighter, shook her head and shrugged.

“Joe, Tim? Where are you?” The door through to the hallway was singed but had fared better than the one that led to the garden. Ian pulled it open. “Joe, Tim?”

“In here,” Joe’s voice came from the living room. “Tim’s in a bad way.”

With Dr Innes and Gandalf on his heels, Ian went into the comfy sitting room.

“Aunt Lav, thank God… it’s Tim he’s spent.” Joe swept past Ian like he didn’t exist. “Have you got…” He looked down at her medical bag. “Ian, it might be better if you leave…”

Ian ignored him, knelt down by the sofa and placed a hand on the brightly coloured crochet blanket encasing Wilf’s son. “Lad, I’m here.” He wrapped his arms round him. “Can you tell me what happened? Where’s your dad?” Beneath the cover Tim’s shaking registered on the Richter scale. Holding him tighter, Ian looked up at Dr Innes for advice on how to handle the situation. Gandalf crawled up next to Tim and laid his head on him.

“Mr Black…” Her eyes as cold as when she’d found him breaking into her office. “I think you should leave.”

“Dr Innes, only a few hours after my grandson is arrested for murdering his wife and son my lover’s home is trashed and he’s missing. I want to know everything … no matter what it is.” He whispered in Tim’s ear, “I know. Your dad told me. You don’t need to hide it from me.” He took hold of the blanket and peeled it down to reveal Tim’s dark brown eyes; they appeared darker in the waxy, milky complexion that replaced his usual olive skin. “Show me the rest.” When Tim had trouble sleeping as a small boy Ian had stroked his ear; it seemed the natural thing to do now and Ian made sure to include the newly acquired pointy bits. A pale arm appeared from beneath the blanket and patted Gandalf; the dog licked the hand attached to the arm.

 

[chrispenycate]

The Allerswick Bomb is

Article – a (or the)

case Ian worked on early in his career

Punctuate

readers are already aware of it. I don't know why just bombsite doesn't feel right but it didn't lol

A gust of wind creaked the brown-painted door that clung to its hinges. Ian gave it a shove,

Comma splice

it stopped its desperate attempt at survival and crashed to the ground. He coughed and held his handkerchief over his nose. An acrid, sweet stench made his eyes water; it fell somewhere between burned marshmallows and human decomposition. When he looked back at Dr Innes' impassive face she nodded encouragement.

“Tim, Joe. Where are you?” he shouted. “You here?” Closing his eyes, he took a moment to compose himself and walked over the stricken door.

What the… Wilf’s normally immaculate kitchen resembled a bombsite. It took a moment for Ian to stop comparing it to the Allerswick bomb.

I (me personally, not the grammar nazi) don't like the repetition of the metaphor "bomb" so close.

Devastation met Ian’s eyes everywhere he looked. Scorch marks decorated the walls. The cupboard doors all stood open, empty.

Technically, it's the cupboards that are empty, not the doors.

Broken crockery, spilled food, bashed tins

Yes, I do that, too. They tell you to close a comma list with a conjunction, but somehow the list isn't finished so doesn't deserve closure

lay over the worktops and floor. Crap! Only splinters were left of what had been a solid oak table. Fragments of plate glass

Plate glass? where would they have been using plate glass in a chocolate box cottage?

cracked under his feet; a large slice from a smashed mirror had embedded itself in Wilf’s armchair, right where his head would have been. Wadding bled out from the gash. Zombie-like Ian picked up a side table and put it back next to Wilf’s chair. He squatted down and plucked a photograph from the wreckage of its frame.

You're not supposed to move anything at a 'crime scene'. Wouldn't these reflexes hold up against the desire to replace a scrap of normality?

Copenhagen last year… the first time they’d held hands in public and a friend had captured the moment … Wilf, where are you? Focused on the picture he rose to his feet. “What happened here?” he shouted to the ether. A thick wet tongue licked his hand and he patted Gandalf. “Did you see, old boy?”

Gandalf whimpered, lay down on the floor and covered his eyes with his paws. Concerned for him Ian put the picture down, lifted Gandalf to his feet and brushed the glass off. A quick inspection of the dog revealed no serious injuries. “Where are Joe and Tim?” He raised his head as he addressed Dr Innes.

Her calm, collected expression had melted and tears ran down her cheeks as she surveyed the debris. She gripped her bag tighter, shook her head and shrugged.

“Joe, Tim? Where are you?” The door through to the hallway was singed but had fared better than the one that led to the garden. Ian pulled it open. “Joe, Tim?”

“In here,” Joe’s voice came from the living room. “Tim’s in a bad way.”

With Dr Innes and Gandalf on his heels, Ian went into the comfy sitting room.

“Aunt Lav, thank God… it’s Tim

Punctuation

he’s spent.” Joe swept past Ian like he didn’t exist. “Have you got…

Question mark (if I hear him right)?

” He looked down at her medical bag. “Ian, it might be better if you leave…”

Ian ignored him, knelt down by the sofa and placed a hand on the brightly coloured crochet blanket encasing Wilf’s son. “Lad, I’m here.” He wrapped his arms round him. “Can you tell me what happened? Where’s your dad?” Beneath the cover Tim’s shaking registered on the Richter scale. Holding him tighter, Ian looked up at Dr Innes for advice on how to handle the situation. Gandalf crawled up next to Tim and laid his head on him.

“Mr Black…” Her eyes as cold as when she’d found him breaking into her office

Fragment

. “I think you should leave.”

“Dr Innes, only a few hours after my grandson is arrested for murdering his wife and son my lover’s home is trashed and he’s missing. I want to know everything … no matter what it is.” He whispered in Tim’s ear, “I know. Your dad told me. You don’t need to hide it from me.” He took hold of the blanket and peeled it down to reveal Tim’s dark brown eyes; they appeared darker in the waxy, milky

Double adjective justified? Especially as olive skin doesn't go white when blood is withdrawn, but a sort of jaundiced cream.

complexion that replaced his usual olive skin. “Show me the rest.” When Tim had

had had

trouble sleeping as a small boy Ian had stroked his ear; it seemed the natural thing to do now and Ian made sure to include the newly acquired pointy bits. A pale arm appeared from beneath the blanket and patted Gandalf; the dog licked the hand attached to the arm.

 

[ctg]

A gust of wind creaked the brown-painted door clunging to its hinges. Ian gave it a gentle nudge - the door croaked one last time as it peeled off screws from the hinges and crashed over the blackened floorboards.
​

You can try to be a bit more visual with your descriptions if you can.

He coughed and held his handkerchief over his nose - remove. An acrid, sweet stench made his eyes water; it fell somewhere between burned marshmallows and human decomposition. When he looked back at Dr Innes' impassive face she nodded encouragement.
​

I feel that latter part of the his part paragraph needs a great deal of editing or a rewrite to get it in order. You could for example had written it this way:

As an acrid, sweet stench brought tears in his eyes, there was no longer a doubt in his mind. This was a murder scene. The explosion had not been an accident. And even if the fire had been burning fiercely he could still see remains of charred bodies piling up near crumbling walls.

“Tim, Joe. Where are you?” he shouted. “You here?”

There was no reply. Just eerie silence. An echo of memories that washed over him as he took a moment before walked over the stricken door.

What the… Wilf’s normally immaculate kitchen resembled a bombsite. It took a moment for Ian to stop comparing it to the Allerswick bomb. Devastation was everywhere he looked. Scorch marks decorating the walls. Splintered cupboard doors standing at front of the broken crockeries, charred food, and oddly shaped tins laying over the worktops and floor.

Crap! His eyes met a large shard of a mirror that had embedded itself on remains of Wilf's armchair. It was right there where his head would have been. Wadding bled out from the gash. Zombie-like Ian picked up a side table and put it back next to Wilf’s chair. Then he saw something glinting under the side-table. Ian squatted down and plucked a photograph from the wreckage of its frame. It was a shot from Copenhagen they had visited last year.

when he'd the first time they’d held hands in public and a friend had captured the moment …
Wilf, where are you? Focusing on the picture he stood up and shouted: “What happened here?” he shouted to the ether. The only reply came from Gandalf as the dog pushed his wet on his palm and whimpered.

Ian looked down and asked, “Did you see, old boy?”
​

Gandalf whimpered again as he lay down on the floor and covered his eyes with his paws. Concerned for him Ian put the picture down, lifted Gandalf to his feet and brushed the glass off. A quick inspection of the dog revealed no serious injuries.

He glanced at Dr Innes and asked: “Where are Joe and Tim?” He raised his head as he addressed Dr Innes.
​

Her calm, collected expression had melted away as tears ran down her cheeks where she was surveying the debris. She gripped her bag tighter, shook her head and shrugged.
​

“Joe, Tim? Where are you?” The door through to the hallway was singed but had fared better than the one that led to the garden. Ian pulled it open. “Joe, Tim?”

“In here,” Joe’s voice came from the living room. “Tim’s in a bad way.”

With Dr Innes and Gandalf on his heels, Ian went into the comfy sitting room.
​

I'm not really sure on how you should write the last sentence but I'd like to see a bit more description in there. Preferably from Ian's PoV as he hurries through the house and finds the boys in the sitting room.

“Aunt Lav, thank God… it’s Tim he’s spent.” Joe swept past Ian like he didn’t exist. “Have you got…” He looked down at her medical bag. “Ian, it might be better if you leave…”

Ian ignored him, knelt down by the sofa and placed a hand on the brightly coloured crochet blanket encasing Wilf’s son. “Lad, I’m here.” He wrapped his arms round him. “Can you tell me what happened? Where’s your dad?” Beneath the cover Tim’s shaking registered on the Richter scale. Ian held him tight as he turned around and laid his eyes on Innes. Holding him tighter, Ian looked up at Dr Innes for advice on how to handle the situation. Gandalf crawled up next to Tim and laid his head on him.

But her eyes looked as cold as what they'd been, when she’d found him breaking into her office. “Mr Black," she said. "I think you should leave.”

“Dr Innes," Ian sighed. "It has been only a few hours after my grandson is arrested for murdering his wife and son in my lover’s home... is trashed and he’s missing. So if there's anything you haven't told me, I'd like to know. No matter what it is.”

Then he whispered in Tim’s ear, “I know. Your dad told me. You don’t need to hide it from me.” He took hold of the blanket and peeled it down to reveal Tim’s dark brown eyes; they appeared darker in the waxy, milky complexion that replaced his usual olive skin. “Show me the rest.” When Tim had trouble sleeping as a small boy Ian had stroked his ear; it seemed the natural thing to do now and Ian made sure to include the newly acquired pointy bits. A pale arm appeared from beneath the blanket and patted Gandalf; the dog licked the hand attached to the arm.
​

I don't understand this last section at all. So maybe it's better that I don't put my fingers in it. Otherwise nice work. Very engaging and extremely intriguing.

 

[AnyaKimlin]

Thank you I need to go over it, but I see some sentences I'm definitely pulling out.

Ian entered the house knowing he wouldn't be calling the police to this crime scene. He didn't entirely understand why beyond he thinks the senior officer on the case is a jerk.

In the final paragraph Tim has transformed into a fairy. Ian has never seen his fairy form before.

 

[Cosmic Geoff]

Briefly, this seems a lot better and more vivid. Having Tim in another room is better.

Nitpicks - the front door seems to fall to the ground outside. It's the cupboards that are empty, not the cupboard doors.

 

[Abernovo]

I like the feel of this rewrite. A minor thing, but:

it fell somewhere between burned marshmallows and human decomposition

Why human decomposition, and not just decomposing flesh? The smell of human flesh rotting isn't that different from a lot of other animals, especially to someone who isn't familiar with it. Of course, a trashed house and the smell of decomposition might bring awful thoughts to mind. And, Ian might be familiar. I don't know.

 

[AnyaKimlin]

Thanks Geoff - I'm going to take a break from it for a couple of days it's beginning to become an obsession.

I like the feel of this rewrite. A minor thing, but:

Why human decomposition, and not just decomposing flesh? The smell of human flesh rotting isn't that different from a lot of other animals, especially to someone who isn't familiar with it. Of course, a trashed house and the smell of decomposition might bring awful thoughts to mind. And, Ian might be familiar. I don't know.

He was a police officer from 1964 until well past the time when he had to retire. I don't know much about his career but I do know he has dealt with more than one death.

 

[tinkerdan]

Hi Anyakimlin,

As usual I like what you've done here. It would be too confusing to try to make many suggestions if I had any. The punctuation is always a good priority then read back before doing any sweeping changes from other suggestions. Only you know what you are trying to say and how best to say it might fall between what you wrote and what someone else suggests.

I would agree with reservations about the decomposing flesh piece. My reservation would be more to the time line of the explosion and fire damage and the actual scene as there might be discernible difference in the odor of burnt flesh and decomposing flesh and there might not have been enough time yet for decomposition. Honestly though, I'd have to ask a fireman and or other professional for more information to determine what might accelerate decomposition of flesh.

 

[AnyaKimlin]

I see the confusion, sorry. There is no body and it isn't a normal crime scene. I should maybe have given some context.

There has been a fairy duel between Tim and his grandfather King Alberich who is a consort of the fairy queen. Tim's father, Wilf, is a renegade fairy who has had his wings clipped and previously escaped from the fairy prison. Wilf contacted his father in an attempt to find out where Ian's great-grandson has been taken. He's been rearrested and taken back to prison. Tim was attempting to protect him.

The smell is the aftermath of the spells.

 

[tinkerdan]

Ah I see so spells have a decomposing body smell sort of like matches have that sulfur smell associated with rotting eggs.

An after-math to spells...now it's all beginning to add up.

 

[AnyaKimlin]

Yes I think burned marshmallow/human decomposition is what fairy decomposition smells like. When they use magic in our realm a small part of them dies. Tim's used a lot and needs to be recharged - still not sure what they do at the clinic lol.