TITLE: Angel Sight
GENRE: YA Paranormal
Three months, twelve days, and fifteen hours. I was just starting to get used to freedom again. Doctor Graham said I was cured the day he signed my release papers, but there was nothing like spotting a big fat set of wings to pour on the doubt.
Men with white wings were occasional--or they had been before my release--but the young dark-haired guy across the room was something else. His were black with a rainbow-like sheen of an oil slick. But I was just imagining him, I had to be.
Hyperventilation threatened. Cold fingers of disbelief circled my heart, my lungs, coiling and choking. I slammed my eyes shut. He can't be real, he can't. They'll send me back for this. I won't go back. I won't.
"Darlin'?" The waitress called out, her voice grating with the ease of sandpaper.
I didn't listen, didn't falter, didn't stop wishing the strange angel sitting at the counter gone.
"Darlin'?" The waitress folded her fingers over my arm, jetting my attention toward her. "You still interested in the job?"
I opened my eyes but refused to check the counter. I couldn't handle if he was still there. "Job?" The fingers, both the phantom ones around my throat and the waitress' very real ones on my arm, slacked.
#36,
ReplyDeleteInteresting. I kept asking questions, and it had enough suspense to keep me reading. However, you had strong voice in the beginning, but it started fading toward the end.
It was an enjoyable read, though. I was hooked!
Good luck!
--Woods
TITLE: Angel Sight [Yeah! It’s about angels! (So is my story. ;])
GENRE: YA Paranormal
Three months, twelve days, and fifteen hours. I was just starting to get used to freedom again. Doctor Graham said I was cured the day he signed my release papers, but there was nothing like spotting a big fat set of wings to pour on the doubt. [I love the opening! It makes me ask questions,plus it’s got humor as well.]
Men with white wings were occasional--or they had been before my release--but the young dark-haired guy across the room was something else. His were black with a rainbow-like sheen of an oil slick. [Huh?] But I was just imagining him, I had to be.
Hyperventilation threatened. Cold fingers of disbelief circled my heart, my lungs, coiling and choking. I slammed my eyes shut. He can't be real, he can't. They'll send me back for this. I won't go back. I won't. [Okay, something is going on. Suspense! Already, my questions are firing away. ]
"Darlin'?" The waitress called out, her voice grating with the ease of sandpaper. [Delete “her voice grating with the ease of sandpaper.”]
I didn't listen, didn't falter, didn't stop wishing the strange angel sitting at the counter gone.
"Darlin'?" The waitress folded her fingers over my arm, jetting my attention toward her. "You still interested in the job?"
I opened my eyes but refused to check the counter. [Keep this.] I couldn't handle if he was still there. [Delete this.] "Job?" The fingers, both the phantom ones around my throat and the waitress' very real ones on my arm, slacked.
I really like the flow of this opening. I can feel the tension of the narrator immediately, and I love the description of the black wings. "Rainbow-like sheen of an oil slick" conjures up a repulsive sort of image to my mind, which is odd, given that rainbows are generally thought of as beautiful, and somehow this works. This phrase sticks out in my mind as I keep reading and I'm definitely interested to know more about this character. The waitress breaking into the narrator's inner dialogue is well done, making me aware there is a normal world happening around these abnormal circumstances.
ReplyDeleteMy only suggestion might be losing the sand paper reference, maybe just leave it at "her voice grating"?
Not bad. I'm curious where this will go.
ReplyDeleteOne suggestion: The "cold fingers of disbelief" and the phrase "hyperventilation threatened" threw me out of the narrative. These descriptions disconnected me from the character's feelings.
Hooked. I agree that the voice starts to fade toward the end, but I still want to know what's going to happen next.
ReplyDeleteGreat voice!
ReplyDeleteMy only suggestion is in the section about the waitress's voice grating with the ease of sandpaper, the word "ease" doesn't really seem right.
I want to keep reading!
I liked this, definitely hooked. I have doubts about comparing the waitress’ voice to sandpaper, it doesn’t tend to grate with ease. Also ‘jetting my attention’ seemed awkward. I liked that she refused to check to see if the angel was still there after her inner turmoil. I’d read more.
ReplyDeleteI thought this worked for the most part. What stood out to me was the difference in tone between the beginning and the ending.
ReplyDeleteShe sees the angel at the very beginning, but her tone there is normal, conversational. It doesn't seem to be a big deal, and then at parg 3, the tone and mood suddenly change as she becomes terrified. Perhaps try to work some of her fear or terror into the first two pargs?
Hyperventilation threatened. - you might show that. And can you really slam your eyes shut? Perhaps change ease of sandpaper to edge, or someting harsh.
It can you use some tweaking, but all in all, I think it works.
Paragraph 1. Check, working. Paragraph 2. Check, working (with some tweaks to the syntax..."occasional" doesn't match "something else"). Paragraph 3. Whiplash. It's as if it were written by a different person, full of overwrought prose. You can't slam eyes shut, not even in fiction. Paragraph 4. Could work if it ended with the word "out" and you cut the rest. Paragraph 5. Cuttable. Graph 6, keep but cut "jetting my attention toward her." Graph 7, cut everything except "Job?" and the sentence that follows it. All that said, I'm compelled by a person who has been institutionalized for seeing winged phantoms. If we can get the sentences cleansed of the unnecessary stuff, this could be something.
ReplyDelete