Tuesday, March 2, 2010

#39 1000-Word

TITLE: Steady in a Firestorm
GENRE: YA (15+) Fantasy

She was dead. Her eyes, once vibrant and soft, stared at the wood and stone ceiling like the glass eyes of a doll. Long hands, smooth and tan with short fingernails, hung at the side of the bed. They rocked back and forth in the gentle wind blowing in from the harbor. Blood trickled into the pool that had formed around her thighs.

Behind the bed stood a large midwife clutching a wriggling bundle of blankets. Tears fell past the woman’s clenched eyelids. Her hands, covered in drying blood, shook.

The room was small but well lit, the window on the far wall opened so the breeze might clear out the stink. Not a cloud littered the sky, and a few bright stars already twinkled in the fading light. Iolanthe’s gaze drifted over homes and gardens, across the harbor and the dozens of ships swaying at the dock, until her eyes met the sea.

Iolanthe’s hand, copper, large, with shorn fingernails and rough calluses, seemed to move of its own accord—stretching forward to caress the woman’s cheek. Their skins seemed to blend together.

She is so beautiful, a part of her mind thought. So perfect, so pure. Iolanthe knew the yearning was wrong, but she yearned nonetheless. It’d become second nature.

She glanced at the midwife. The woman hugged the bundle of blankets to her chest as she cried. That ugly, unclean thing inside had killed the most perfect being in the world. A tiny animal, not even worth the label of human, had ruined everything.

A fierce anger scrambled through Iolanthe’s muscles. She imagined strangling the thing, throwing it out the window so she could hear it smash, split splat, into the road. But her feet, frozen to the floor, would not obey. Gritting her teeth, she brought her attention back to the woman lying on the bed. With her Iolanthe could never be upset.

An ache blossomed from the tips of her fingers, spreading through her arms, up her neck and down her chest. Come back, that part begged. Please, please come back to me.

Iolanthe bent to kiss her forehead, and as her lips connected with flesh, a sound pushed out of the woman’s lips, like an echo of life.

Vidar.”

Iolanthe straightened, outraged, her lips tingling. The body, that beautiful, perfect body, erupted in flames. She gasped, then bit back a yelp. The room disappeared with a blink, sound swallowed into emptiness. She reached her man-sized hands to pull the woman from the inferno, but it was too late. And then the flames caught onto Iolanthe's sleeve and licked up, up, up her arm, crisping, burning. This time she didn’t hold back a scream, didn’t stop it from becoming a laugh. The pain, harsh and searing, was wonderful.

Finally. Finally, finally.

#


Iolanthe jerked awake. Her right arm was numb. She clenched it under her blanket, gritting her teeth as the sleeping muscles awakened. Her breath skittered cold and heavy over her nose, making her shiver. Staring up at the popcorn ceiling, she made herself calm down.

Just a dream.

She pulled out her hand from underneath the covers and examined it. Pale and slender, it was nothing like the hand from the dream. No marks had appeared from some phantom flame, either. Stuffing it back under the blanket, she turned onto her side, her eyes wandering over to the clock on her bedside table. Only a dream, she reminded herself again.

Her body tried to lull her back into sleep, but Iolanthe stayed awake, afraid that when she slipped into unconsciousness she would return to the heat and obsession, the murderous thoughts, the voice of the dead. With slow, measured inhales and exhales she cleared her mind of every image.
And in the way of dreams, for good or no, when she woke later that day, all she remembered was a terrible feeling: a nightmare that had faded in the silence of sleep.

#


“Get up, you stubborn lump of pasty white flesh!”

Amy Moore’s voice pierced through Iolanthe’s sleep like a fog horn. She’d always marveled at Amy’s perfectly enunciated screeches, though the admiration dwindled when the almost mystical power was used against her. She responded in the only way that seemed appropriate. She rolled over and yanked her pillow over her head.

“No, thanks,” she grumbled, keeping her eyes clenched tight against the coming day. She was so not in the mood for school. Not that she ever was.

Her foster sister jerked the large comforter off of the bed and flipped Iolanthe to the ground with it.

Ouch,” Iolanthe said, pulling herself to her feet. She could almost hear her body creak and groan in protest. She rubbed her butt, glaring at Amy’s cheeky grin. Unlike her, Iolanthe didn’t have much in the way of padding there. “What the heck is your problem?”

Amy rolled her eyes and pointed to the alarm clock.

It beamed back 7:04.

“You have got to be joking,” Iolanthe whined.

“Hmm…” Amy pondered aloud, tapping her chin with her index finger as she watched—not helping one bit, the jerk—Iolanthe scatter clothes and books across the room as she scrambled to get ready for school in less than three minutes. “That would be a rather cruel joke. Ingeniously cruel, one might say. By golly, I think I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Iolanthe ignored Amy. She threw on pants and a shirt, tossed other articles of clothing about the room, settling on a beleaguered green sweatshirt with holes for her thumbs. Stuffing her books into her backpack, she rushed out, pausing only to rap Amy on the head while swinging her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Hey! What was that for?” Amy rubbed the side of her head, chasing after Iolanthe.

“For saying ‘by golly’.”

12 comments:

  1. I particularly liked Amy. She had me at, "That would be a rather cruel joke. Ingeniously cruel, one might say. By golly, I think I’ll do it tomorrow."

    I'm not sure about the starting point, though. Agents routinely complain about manuscripts that begin with a dream, and this one was confusing to me in ways you might not have intended to be so. "She was dead" made me wonder if we were starting from the dead woman's perspective -- possible in a fantasy, after all. Then the midwife is introduced, and I thought we were in her perspective. Next we get Iolanthe, but I couldn't immediately tell whether that was the name of the midwife or a third person.

    Hard to suggest a better starting point, of course, since I don't know where your story is going. It does seem clear that Iolanthe's dreams will be important, so I can see why you wanted to begin with one. Perhaps you could back into a dream? I'm curious to know more about Iolanthe, since we don't learn much about her besides her odd dreams and her dislike of school.

    I also stumbled on some word choices, like "not a cloud littered the sky" and "her breath skittered cold and heavy." But words are so deeply personal that what bothered me might charm ten other people.

    One other small thing to consider: a gentle wind probably can't move a dead woman's hand. (A strong wind, certainly.)

    Hope that's helpful, but disregard if not. Best of luck with your novel.

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  2. This starts our more interestingly than it finishes for me. The writing is generally fine; just a few phrases here and there I wasn't comfortable with, such :Their skins seemed to blend together; and I wasn't sure where the stink came from. I don't think the room would stink immediately after the woman died in childbirth.

    I had a problem with the gentle breeze moving a dead woman's arm, and I thought the POV was confusing in the beginning.

    I really liked: A tiny animal, not even worth the label of human, had ruined everything.

    Overall, I would keep reading, but if it didn't tie in the dream scene fairly quickly, I would stop.

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  3. Same as Jamie and Susanne said, I at first thought there were just the dead woman and the midwife in the room and was confused. And I didn't think a gentle breeze could move a hand, either. (Maybe in a dream, but we don't know it's a dream when we encounter that action.) Also, eyes are clenched twice in this short passage which is kind of a lot (once is okay, although I think I prefer clenched shut rather than just clenched).

    I agree with Susanne, too, that the dream sequence needs to get tied in pretty quickly.

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  4. I'd cut the first two parts with the dream and move them a lot further into the novel. When you start a story you need to ground the reader in the reality of your world. With a dream, the reader will always feel cheated.

    That said, I very much like the scene were Amy wakes her stepsister. Maybe you could insert here that Iolanthe wakes with the traces of a nightmare on her mind. That will prepare the reader for dreams further in the novel.

    My advice (but your mileage my vary): Establish your real world first and than introduce the dream worlds; no matter how important they are to the story.

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  5. Hi there

    Very interesting story. The dream was a bit melodramatic, which I realize happens in dreams. I've also read and heard repeatedly that starting a story in a dream is a no-no. Plus this dream was a real downer.

    The first sentences: "She was dead. Her eyes . . ." Made me think, as Jamie mentioned, that this was going to be from a ghost's POV. I also had a problem with her dead eyes staring.

    That being said, I think this is well written. Very vivid imagery and nice exchange between Iolanthe and Amy. I learned a lot about Iolante from that exchange and I was interested in her. It wasn't until that exchange that I started caring about Iolante.

    Good job!

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  6. Hi!

    I also found your imagery striking and well written. But, being a short-attention span reader, I thought some things were over-described. For instance, I loved the image of Iolanthe's hands and the midwife - clutching the baby, tears, bloody hands - great job. But the description of what Iolanthe saw gazing out the window - why do we need to know that? It felt like description for the sake of writing, not for the sake of the story. But again, that's just me. I like to get to the action of things.

    I wasn't sure if you were introducing Iolanthe as a protagonist or antagonist, because imagining the split-splat of the baby made me think she was a little psycho.

    But my main area of confusion came with the third section. The name Iolanthe, the Fantasy label, the midwife, all had me positioned in medieval-ish times. Then the third section has sweatshirts and foster children and "by golly." It had me thinking, what the heck? rather than, "Oh, intriguing."

    To compel me to read further, and I'm just one reader, mind you, I wouldn't start with the dream. I'd rather meet Iolanthe, have the sympathy for her
    that you developed in the last section, and then learn that the murderous thoughts scare her.

    But the writing is very nice and you seem to have an imaginative, fresh story here.

    Good luck!

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  7. I agree with the comments thus far. Intriguing premise: teenage girl dreams she is a violent man who can set people on fire with a word... I think.

    Same POV confusion, same jarring images and word choices others have noted.

    I would add a tendency toward flowery, overly wordy language. That said, my personal preference is a tight, simple, direct style.

    EG: "Amy pondered aloud, tapping her chin with her index finger as she watched -- not helping one bit, the jerk --"

    "Amy tapped her chin with her finger, not helping at all, the jerk --"

    Overall, tighten and simplify, and consider how best to hint at the intensity of the story without leaning on the dream in the beginning.

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  8. The dream sounded like a prologue to me, and the voice and tone were completely the opposite of the second half of your entry. In the dream, Iolanthe sounded much, much older. Of course, this could be because it's a dream, but the switch was quite startling.

    Also, there was no character for the reader to identify with in the dream. The focus was on the dead woman.

    The second half, I enjoyed. Iolanthe's voice is strong, and so is Amy's. Have you considered opening it in the here and now?

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  9. I think you have had a good group of feedback critiques. Your writing is good, and you create your characters well.
    I also didn't like the use of some words and phrases... clouds littering sky, breath skittering.
    I also thought 'tears fell' through clenched eyelids would be better described as 'tears seeped'.
    Also the word 'stink' would actually turn into 'stench'.

    I actually have no problem with your dream sequence - Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier does...
    "Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again" one of the most famous openings later replicated by Hitchcock in his famous movie of the same name.

    It just has to be interesting and an integral part of the character. I assume that this isn't the opening story hook.

    Over all your writing is good and your characters come through in such a short piece.

    ZP

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  10. I had trouble reading on due to confusion. The bed was in a room yet the hand moved in the wind? (Wouldn't it be a rather strong wind to move a hand, even a lifeless one?) Then I didn't know who Iolanthe was and was shocked to find a third party in the room and now we are in her POV. Then it's all a dream? As a reader it was a bit much for me, though the writing was good, I don't think I'd be compelled enough, nor can I see the golden thread pulling me through the story.

    Perhaps start in Iolanthe's POV clearly and upfront. Let's see it from her POV, not omniscient and moving in. I don't know about starting with the dream either. Feels like an overused device, unfortunately, and one to avoid.

    It really starts for me with Amy. The voice of Iolanthe, prior, felt old world, of a different time, and doesn't mesh with the latter voice once Amy is around. Why is that? Maybe the name Iolanthe throws me off too. Can't imagine it's pronunciation even, so am pulled out by this too. Sorry I don't have more help to offer. Good luck. Seems like it's heading in a compelling direction in the later sections.

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  11. Want to thank everyone for their comments. I knew opening with the nightmare was risky, and I've been two minds about taking it out. Since it's pretty much unanimous, I've decided to move it.

    I'd originally kept the nightmare there because it hints at the fantastic world, which readers don't see until three chapters into the story. (I introduce the three main characters in the meantime. This is a highly character-driven story.) But, as most of you stated that the section with Io and Amy in "real time" was compelling, I'm comfortable starting it there now.

    Thanks again. You guys are excellent. And I'll clean up the writing more, too. For the ninetieth time. It never ends, does it? :)

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  12. I'm in almost complete agreement with the first comment. I had trouble with the perceived POV shifts, then with figuring out how many people were in the room, and if Iolanthe was the midwife. I also wasn't sure who uttered the word "Vidar," Iolanthe or the dead woman (hey, it's a dream). As for the dream, I do hear that all the time, too: don't open with a dream. Most of all, I don't really know what's going on here--the dream seems to be in the distant past, but the rest of it seems to be the present. And the title doesn't ground me so I know what to expect. Also agree a breeze couldn't move a hand. Some very nice language throughout, and a good sense of place during the dream sequence.

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