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#1 |
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Registered User
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An opinion please, thanks!
Happy hour in the city. The grey and shadowy landscape of a metropolis after sundown, was only broken by the noise of laughter and music emanating from a popular bar. Unseen by alcohol impaired eyes, a rat poked it's head through a small opening in the wall, on the inside of Farrelly's Bar. It checked carefuly left and right before pulling the rest of it's body through, keeping close enough to the wall as to not draw any attention from the clientel. Scurrying as only a rodent can, the rat made it's way along the skirtingboard, over cigarrette butts, through puddles of spilled beer and zig-zagged it's way through the obstacles of various bar stools and chairs. Finally reaching the corner of the bar where the wall changes direction, the rat stopped and turned it's head skyward. A lone bottle of whiskey stood undisturbed and unopened on an unattended shelf. The rat surveyed its surroundings, before dragging a customers
nearby coat and placing it on the floor directly below the bottle. With spider like ability, it scurried up the wall and onto the waiting shelf, still unseen, still unheard. The bottle of whiskey was easily nudged, and easier still toppled, and fell unbroken onto the perfectly positioned coat below. The rat followed the bottle down without hesitation and began to roll the bottle as close to the wall as it could using it's front feet to guide it and it's back feet to power the movement. It rolled it back through the maze of bar stools and chairs legs, through the puddles of spilled beer and over the cigarette butts until it reached the hole in the wall. With consumate ease, the rat spun the bottle in one movment so that it lined up with the opening and pushed it through. It was a lot colder out there in the alley, no dancing feet to avoid, no peoples screams to fear, just the dull thud of music and a lone man sitting with his back against the opposite wall. The man blended in with the grey and the shadows of the alley seamlessly, like some kind of urban chameleon. His clothes were a patchwork of dirty greys and browns, layered and frayed and alltogether too old and threadbare. His beard shared the appearance of his attire, tattered and gruff, his nose was crooked and bulbous, but his eyes wore a smile. The rat continued to roll the bottle, and made its way across the narrow alley where it stopped at the mans feet. "Good girl Alice", said the man in gravelly tones. "Back in you go". Without pause, the rat scrambled up the mans leg and stuffed itself into the right pocket of his coat, nestling in, and finding comfort. It was home. The man, chuckled to himself, a satisfied rumble as he reached down and picked up the whiskey, picking at the label with dirty fingernails. With a crack the seal was broken and the drink tasted. "Your turn Cyrill". A second rat appeared in a magician like reveal from an inside coat pocket and scuttled pub-wards. |
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#6 |
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Registered User
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This made me smile
I love the wonderful wit and warmth in the words.I'd just say watch the spelling and grammar. There are a few errors in it e.g "cigarratte" should be "cigarette" and "alltogether" should be "altogether". It's really easy to make mistakes when you get a great idea in your head and just run with it. I always have to make lots of corrections when I proofread my stuff. It's easy to forget little things like remembering that "it" is not possessive.
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#12 |
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Registered User
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#13 |
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Registered User
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This is another piece from the novel I'm working on. Any comments and critique would be great! Thanks a million.
It had been just an hour since the performance, and Ella found herself in the bike sheds behind the school crying. She had to run to escape the unexpected and frightening reaction to her singing. It was strange, she thought, that the audience maintained an eerie silence during the song, she was sure it was the calm before the inescapable tirade of abuse headed her way once the melody stopped, but that didn’t happen. It was their faces that scared her the most, the look of vacant delirium and unrelenting awe, worn on each and every expression, every man, woman and child, every ear tuned in to her vocal exhibition. The tear streaked cheeked gathering hung on her every syllable and it frightened her to death. It was too much, almost unnatural. Then came the cries for an encore, the exasperated pleas for a second helping of delicious rhapsody. Then the pleas turned to demands, to angry shouts and then to threats. She ran when the crowds began clambering onto the stage, baying to sample her voice once more. |
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#15 |
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mate, that second piece was pure gold. I smiled reading the last few lines. The tone was constant, imagry was clear and focused and the overall atmosphere of the piece was great.
Only piece of critism I could give is "she found herself crying". I think that just "she was crying" would work a bit better. "she found herself crying" I beleive implies she was embarrased or ashamed to be crying, which is nonsense if angry audience members are attacking your stage. Maybe I just need to know the character better, it might be more appropriate then. Brilliant work man, keep it up. You have an obvious talent. |
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