Writing The Eye (Part 4 added 1/7/09)

C

charidude

(Back from Da Hack)
Member
(Yes, I will be working on two novels at once. I will manage to do it though I promise.)

Here's a little intro for now, the real story starts next.


The man in green turned his skinny, little body as he stepped off the busy barrage of flashing lights into the skinny alleyway. The rain felt chilly as the freezing sensation melted on his shivering face sliding down onto his wet, damp, ivory green coat. The light up ahead hanging on the side of one of the closed restaurants illuminated an eerie green light into the alleyway. The crumbling granite of the alleyway felt hard and rough as he stepped into his squishy, wet, brown shoes. He wore a hat two sizes too small on top of his head, which he held down so that the blowing wind that filled the city wouldn’t blow it off its perch.
Uncomfortable in the situation the man moved quickly around the corner as his apartment building started to rise in the distance. But at that very moment it was there as well. For some people, they’re always there at the right place at the right time, tonight, he wasn’t. The clanging of something landing on metal above him set the man on edge. He quickly shot glances in all directions as he stared all around him. The darkness made things nearly blank and impossible to see but he continued on now at a faster pace worried for muggers and thieves. Then, the shadow appeared around the corer. A huge hulking animal, at the sight of hit he slipped on black ice and landed flat on his butt hearing his glass crash into the hard granite floor to the left of him. He tried to look around but the blurry vision made him feel dizzy and drunk, he was completely vulnerable as he tried to stand himself up as he was shaking and rattling from side to side.
It stood before him its teeth snarled up preparing itself happily. Even without his glasses he could see something was in front of him. There was movement it was extending something, maybe and arm, no; he could tell it was coming from the back, maybe a tail. It was coming right at his face, what was he to do, then he felt it clamp around the back of the milky white eyeball staring at it. All that was heard was a scream that shook the night and started what was going to be, a very unpleasant December.
 
RE: The Eye (please read. Right now short but good quality.)

(The Next part, short again, but this is how these will be, short simple, and to the point.)


The wrought iron gates held steady. Parker slammed into it with more force using both of his arms pushing against the opposing force in front of him with all his might like a strenuous workout at the gym. Finally the thick coating of rust broke to bits allowing the gate to open partway. Parker slipped inside the dust old place. The place was centuries old, and years since it had been deserted.
The sounds of boats in the distance echoed throughout this metal jungle. As he walked by sand collected on top of his shoes. Parker stared up towards the bleak blue sky. As clear as a sky could get except for a few minute clouds that were illusive to those who did not search with extreme caution. Taking in every detail was just a small portion of Parker’s job. But what was more important was his true identity. One of which no one would ever know. Or so he suspected.
Parker continued along the path that was drawn out by the footprints of those who had walked by this pathway long ago. It was amazing Parker thought, how every human being can make a difference in the shadows, but how it takes many to shine in the light. For example, the lone silhouette of an intrigued detective walking the alley at sunset, which affected countless, lives to come. But while the U.S.A government stood proudly in the limelight sucking up every piece of military and power around the country. The difference was the amount of people, together though, they worked like a miner in a coal mine who just found a jackhammer to dig away at what’s to come 2 times as fast.
There it lied in front of him. The white outline of a dull broken body, which had held the soul of Duke Levington. Oh Duke, such a brilliant future…

8 years ago….

“And this degree in the space and tie electronics doctorate degree goes to our very own Duke Levington!” the professor announced with glee. Parker stood on the outskirts of the building leaning against the hard wall of the building peering through his dark black glasses at the walking graduate that was collecting the award he had spent 8 years rotting away in this death trap for. Him, he had finished High School and ditched never regretting a moment of his straight Cs. All of them were straight Cs, except for deducting/reasoning skills. This was, an A+, top of the class and set a record for the school.

But Duke’s brilliance didn’t end after College. He went on to inventing to gadgets, his most famous invention, the plasma feeder, sucked up diamond minerals, breaking them down into pure power. The power increased rocket speed exponentially allowing travel to Mars in a mere month. He also invented the world first teleporting device. The machine would be set up in two separate places, you would scan it in one, and holographic version would appear in the other as long as it wasn’t removed. This enabled easier talking and transmissions as well as good security cameras giving us more war power. That’s all Parker ever knew, and he regretted every moment he had worked on this pitiful career rather than study with Duke and learn his skill.
 
RE: The Eye (please read. Right now short but good quality.)

It seems very good so far. I can't wait until the next part. Just try to make your chapters a little longer. You don't have to make them humungous, but just don't make it tiny.
 
RE: The Eye (please read. Right now short but good quality.)

Yeah I know, I was thinking about that myself.
 
RE: The Eye (please read. Right now short but good quality.)

Next part up. A bit longer than the others.






The doors to the agency opened with a clash of hard cold metal to more metal. The screech pierced Parker’s eardrums but he made no reaction that was noticeable to the naked eye. In stormed a very confident looking man who wore a fancy get up which reminded Parker of a famous childhood detective. “Hello Watson,” was the thought that came to his mind, which made him, chuckle out loud. The man peered around the room as if it was the very place of the crime. Parker saw it as a dingy old rust bucket, he probably saw it as a place to go when you’re not working which was never the place for him, and Parker’s boss referred to it as “the place where I’m stuck with worthless people like him.”

Wait no, that was him saying that. Now insulted Parker turned around to see the new man talking to his grumpy old boss. He waved as if he hadn’t heard the conversation and was returned with a 1 second wave that was weak and lacking effort. But that was the friendliest thing he’d gotten from that mean, old, crippled, man who didn’t deserve a bright silver badge on that bulging outfit of his, since the Cherry Bomb incident.

Ah, the cherry bomb accident. What glorious memories came flowing downstream into his head of when his career of going to the FBI didn’t seem that far away. There he was, investigating a terrorist act at a huge apartment building in downtown New York. He had gained leverage in the gang in question. The navy was unauthorized to attack if they don’t have proof so everything, the lives of innocent people, rested on my dusty and dirty shoulder.

I had climbed the ladder of control and was a trusted civilian ruler. I had done too many horrible things to leave as a coward now. Multiple times I had questioned my loyalty when I had done such bloodthirsty acts but in the shadows like a silent ghost who stalks my every movement they nodded yes. But yes, as in, you can stop and follow your heart, or yes, you are allowed to cause terror, I never knew.

My eyelids were locked down over my wandering eyes in my deep and wondrous sleep. The haunting memories of my actions were swarming me, encircling me, crushing me… I had no way to know my body was showing my agony by twisting and turning in my covers, on my bed, in my room, in an underground bunker in which my memories were being extracted by my very own co-workers, which they had been doing every night, under secrecy, without me knowing.

I was walking the pathway; men with heavily armed AK-47s filled the hallways at every turn. Their dark sunglasses piercing through my flimsy body. I never let them know any weakness. Out here with the bad guys, it was eat or be eaten, and unfortunately to thrive, you needed to eat. Every now and then I was challenged to a gunfight. I managed to out maneuver them. It was how I earned my place and showed my worth to the rulers, the ones who stayed out of sight but brought in millions an hour.

Behind the door was whispers, there always were. I never [aid much attention to it, but this time I did. “Bomb” was all I heard. That completely set me off and I dropped a recorder by the door continuing on my way. My job, might soon be done and I’d get to go home like I wanted to more than anything else, to see my family, to hold their precious hands against mine. The feeling of pure happiness and security…

Later that day… I got the transmitter and listened. The bomb was at 32nd street. That’s all I knew and all I need to know. The FBI did all the rest. I was scheduled to go there, transmit a small invisible beacon and they’d do the rest. This was it, my grand finale. I was either caught or shot on spot, or I succeed and save lives as a superhero. It was a sink or swim opportunity.

Driving threw the street in our vans was as nervous and sweaty as you could get. A private sauna baking us in the hot heat. Every moment the object of fear that one of them might spot the beacon hidden in my pocket made me stand up straight and keep my back to the seat. I had come in late; no sign of bombs, but something was in the backseat, I didn’t know what but my thoughts had endless ideas. I box of C4? Or perhaps just a classic black bomb? TNT? Oh whatever it was it was no child’s play toy. And we were illegally bringing it through New York City, the big apple.

We arrived at the building. A huge condo apartment building. One of them must be ours. We rented one at ground floor. Probably so we could run away in time and the least pricey. We walked into the room without guns. Or at least without guns showing. We each carried a M9 pistol inserted into our vest, which wasn’t detected by the security scanner. Our condo was large with party tables in every part of it.

Where were they? My backup, the FBI! No-show, I was going to have to go threw with this. The memories would haunt me for years. I was crying uncontrollably on the inside but had trained myself never in the presence of another gang member. Then they shot the first bullet. It sank threw the vest like a sharp needle and killed a man. More followed 5 other bullets from 5 other soldiers. Success, all of them had been eliminated. I had thought, “You had it coming…” although, I had been no better then them. Together the 7 of us opened the trunk of the parked jeep. What was there almost made me cry. A large cake with cherries along the outside.

Later it was discovered it was called the “Cherry Bomb”. They had one every month. We had crashed a party, not a terrorist attack. I got into so much trouble with the agency. Immediately fired, and lost all chances of ever making the FBI, I had to find work in a small police center as a minor detective. But my troubles didn’t end; the terrorist group found out I had betrayed them. They hunted me, but instead burned my house down along with my precious family inside. Their faces, and their souls, burned to the ground, but their memories still haunting me to this very day.
 
RE: The Eye (Next Part added. 1/2/09)

Okay, good length, but there still are errors. First of all, there wasn't any dialogue! You might want to look over your chapters after you made them, and add in more detail. Example:
Before edits:
Eddy looked at the toy. He thought it was cool. He had a playdate with Mark.

After edits:
Eddy looked at the toy, it was a glowing blue ball.

"This is so awesome!!"

Later that day, Eddy called up Mark and asked to have a playdate. He said yes. Eddy knew this was going to be a good day.
 
RE: The Eye (Next Part added. 1/2/09)

Inferno: Actually, 'no dialogue' is perfectly acceptable for the time being, given how far he's gotten into the story. He's also using 1st person now, which is debateably (SP?) a form of dialogue through diction. I've read a few novels with full chapters not having dialogue.

'Dude, so long as you bring in some dialogue soon, I think you'll be fine.

Now, I've been waiting to post till there was a bit more, so here we go~!

First big thing that irked me was not only the shortness of the chapters, but the fact you seem to be jumping around a lot in such a short span. First a guy dies, we see a detective almost look into his past, and wham, we're already at the station, thinking back on the Cherry Bomb incident. I just don't feel like it transitioned well...I feel like the endings stopped a bit abruptly, if you know what I mean. This could easily be fixed on the second part by showing him leaving the scene.

Next, I'm not so sure the switch to first without use of italics was effective. Switching tenses and perspectives are common errors; all I think you have to do is Italicize the first paragraph bits, use an elipsis at the very end of it (...), change parts so it shows first instead of third, (IE. I had gained leverage...) and make sure you end on an italic note. I'm not sure how well this method could work, yet I'm reluctant to say italize everything that's first cus it's harder to read. Maybe Zy will know how to better help with this. :/

Uh...in terms of spgm, there were a few things of notice. (I can't get them all right now, but I'll at least pick a few.
-Watch to make sure you're using the right word. I noticed 'threw' when it ought to be 'through' a few times. It's a very common error that every writer should be wary of.
-Beware the run-ons and fragments. Ask yourself, can this sentence attachment stand on its own? Does this sentence have a subject (commonly a noun) and a predicate (commonly a verb)? I'll try and show what I mean...
"Parker saw the place as a dingy ol' rust bucket, he probably saw ..." In the second part, you have he, a noun, and saw, a verb. An easy fix for this situation, especially given the two thoughts are so close to one another, is to put a semi-colon (; ) where that comma is.
This is from the second post: "As clear as a sky could get..." You have your predicate 'get', but the stuff before and after's filled with similes and adv./adj. (sky is part of the simile, so it doesn't count as a subject.) An easy fix for this fragment is adding 'It was' in front of your statement. That automatically gives you subject and predicate in one go!
-I saw an instance in 1st person mode where you switched to present. Since you're having Parker recollect something, be sure to ALWAYS use past. (I think the trouble area was "That's all I knew and all I need to know".)
-My petpeeve: using numbers instead of the word, when under a hundred and not showing time in writing. It REALLY irks me out when I see a small number in a big ol' wall of text. Numbers should generally be used for time and massive, non-even quantities. (like years 1995 or 1,628,366 tons of soil...stuff like that.) I generally say 'avoid in dialogue' too, just because it loks even more bizarre. But really, please, I'm begging you! Write 1, 2 etc. as 'one' or 'two'. It's just a few extra keystrokes for a lot more fluidity. .-.

All that outta the way, this does look promising. I have to admit, I'm SUCH a geek for mystery (this IS mystery right? It looks like it is!) so I'mma keep track of this shamelessly |3

And I think that's alkl I can say for now. Keep at it!

...my wriiiist...
 
RE: The Eye (Next Part added. 1/2/09)

Crystal Hikara said:
Maybe Zy will know how to better help with this. :/
Click to expand...
Why not?

First, in addressing the dialogue deal, there are two types of dialogue: The first is direct dialogue and the second, indirect. For mystery tales (This looks like one to me), indirect dialogue as actually more common in comparison to other genres. A key of warning: indirect dialogue runs the risk of alienating the reader as we aren't "up close" to "hear" the conversation. I can tell you're not fully experienced with mystery, so steer clear from using indirect dialogue as your main tool for conversations.

Perspective switches, as far as I've seen in literature, are messy and simply tell the reader, "I don't know how to bring out my main character in third-person, so I'm going to switch to first for now." However, D.J. MacHale, in the modern series, Pendragon, did a decent job with perspective changes, so I must admit there are exceptions. Regardless, this is somthing I advise you not to delve in. But as CH had said, the difference should be noted with italics (In Pendragon, however, the third-person is the view being italicized, as the main story runs in first person. It is key that you italicize the SIDE view, not the MAIN view).

Instead of a view switch, reflection of a character is even more powerful. I suggest you aim for this instead.

And since CH shot you down so mercilessly and thoroughly in mechanics, I'm not going to bother poking your dead body with a stick on that.

Lastly, your plot moves along like a train going 200km/hr with several broken areas in the tracks; no one can even possibly get comfortable in the ride, even if they're bolted to the wall of something. The 200km/hr is fine, but it's the lack of tracks (of lack of perfection) that cause the reader to go "oof!" and stop, trying to fill in the gaps in his head. Put it this way: in the story, there is a main line, followed by side plots (detective is stuck to go to an evening meal with some important person, and we get a chance to see some charming personalities) or dead ends (known as 'red herring' in mysteries). Keep in mind that it is NOT the destination that makes the story great, but the journey.

As a last remark, don't you ever think you failed in writing. We all have several weakness, or many areas to improve. Robert Frost goes to even say that he doesn't write failed pieces. Just "exercises." Be it a great tale, or an exercise, move on and just learn (and REMEMBER) your lessons as you write.
 
RE: The Eye (Next Part added. 1/2/09)

Thanks for the tips guys. I'll try my best to concentrate on what you said while I write. And unfortuently, no it's not supposed to be a mystery. As of now it may seem like one but that is because the main plot has not come out yet which makes the prolouge where the man dies so important. Yes, there may be a bit of mystery stuffed in there but, the genre is still horror.

This one is only 877 words but I think it starts to show the story's true colors in this one.


The corporate leaders all sat in their comfy black chairs. They had gathered in the cursed building in which all of mankind was going to suffer because of.
“It can’t be known as our fault,” one man said with an abrupt tone.
“Yes, but is it really our fault?” another questioned with a small eyeglass perched on his nose.
“Of course it is! We hired him!” one far along the broad extendable table said in a small and squeaky voice that sounded as if it was squeezed out of his little round belly. The argument carried don through the unlit room for hours as the corporate leaders argued and tried to reason with each other.
“No wonder nothing gets done,” the man in the back of the room thought to himself as he walked over to the glass window on the side of the building arms behind his back. He stared down at the flashing light of New York City from his perch in the sky. “All the politics constantly squabbling over what to do. It was what I had set out to do. Have something everyone would agree on and take in happily. But he failed; he failed his people, his company, and his nation. But he didn’t just go; he had to unleash the fury of that, that thing! Oh the poor people who are suffering from his, and my, mistake. What happened Duke? What happened…”

The bright yellow car zipped past the drain hole leading to the dark sewers below. Another followed, leading another, who was being trailed by another, and the line stretched endlessly across the New York Street. The small smart car swerved into a parking lot and got out of the car. He slammed the door shut not thinking twice and started to walk to his home. The moon was rising high above the winter night. The wind was unbearably chilly freezing every part of the man’s body. But, it doesn’t mind its food cold…

He continued to walk. No one was there, or anywhere near him. Who would be? Why would anyone want to be walking an alley at 1:00 am in the middle of December? Maybe because they had just won the mega millions lottery? Oh yes he had. At 9:30 that day. But the economy of the place, if word got out he had the winning card; he’d be mugged within the hour. So, he slipped out of bed late at night and decided to turn it in.

Just as he was about to whistle his favorite childhood tune, “Yankee Doodle Dandee,” a small sound of a sewer grate rattling filled the alley. The man spun around shivering in fear.
“Who’s there?” the man demanded. No response. “I know what you are!” the man stuttered trying to sound unmoved by the sound he heard and the presence he felt “, you want my lottery card! Well you won’t get it! Never!” The man took off as fast as he could down the alley. The presence he had felt smiled in joy. As the man’s feet came flying in front of him as fast as they could carry him not caring about how pink his cheeks became from the icy wind he held onto the card; his lottery card… The presence was strange and wild; he could feel it pouncing like a lion, running on all fours. What mugger was this?

The presence left the ground and was jumping from side to side of the alley its eyes glowing like light bulbs staring through its target. The man rounded the corner, a glimpse of hope flooded his mind as the lights of a friendly 7 Eleven illuminated the streets. Surely no mugger would follow him here!

The presence skidded around the corner and leaped like a tiger towards its prey. It’s hind legs and claws fastened tightly on his body ripping through the flesh sending a fountain of blood everywhere flooding out onto the ground. His front hands grabbed the head and shoulder rand twisted as the presence slammed into the ground. The head came off like a corkscrew veins drooping down out of his neck and blood spurting out like a chocolate fountain. Nerves came out like mashed potatoes and as the presence started to gnaw at the head’s succulent flesh the brains came oozing out like pasta and meatballs stained in blood. The presence devoured its meal with the utmost enjoyment.

The phone call rang in the Howard’s residence. Parker got out of bed, why would he be called at 6:30 am? The boss knew he didn’t wake up till eight and it’s not like the boss liked to talk to him anyway.
“Hello?” Parker said into the phone.
“Parker Howard? This is Paul Pitley. The CIA and I are happy to announce you’ve been reinstated. You’re being called in today at 7:00, at the Empire State Building. Be there, it’s for the good of all of us.” The phone hung up like a silent ghost that had never came in the first place. Parker dropped the phone letting it dangle in mid-air off the dresser. Parker fell backwards onto his bed in happiness and pure shock. Looks like he wasn’t going to sleep until eight today.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top