Extract from fantasy novel.

This is not the opening - it is from Chapter Three - but it will give you some idea of my writing.



Leofrick's eyes snapped open. The voice in his mind echoing again, tearing away his sleep. His entire body dripped with sweat. Sucking in deep breaths he tried to collect his senses.

He glanced at the two vials on the small dresser. Before bed he'd drank from both; emptied them down his throat in the certain knowledge their contents would bring on a comatose state. He should have slept for at least six hours, but when he glanced at the time bands on the candle no more than an hour had passed.

Frozen in a grotesque parody of flight, its wings still, a moth hung a hairs breadth from the motionless candle flame, transfixed, a heartbeat from an incandescent death.

The voice in his mind screamed again, demanding attention, clawing at his sanity, shredding the final remnants of sleep. He sat upright, his body shaking. The bed swayed as he swung his legs to the floor. Fear manifested itself in an impromptu dribble of piss making its way down his thigh.

Once on his feet he picked up and pulled on his night-shirt which had slipped to the floor. On trembling legs he crossed to the small dresser, and without bothering to use a nearby goblet, gulped several mouthfuls of the harsh red wine.

Fortified by the wine and ignoring the dribbles down his chin he unfastened the tent flap and stepped into the ice-cold night.

Of the hundreds of soldiers in the camp, not one moved. Some stood with bowl in hand, waiting to be fed. Like thick brown rope, soup from ladles hung in the air. Other soldiers huddled around fires where sparks from the burning wood were static. Many, asleep he thought, lay sprawled on ground. To the right, a horse with its forelegs reared in the air stood like some giant alabaster figurine.

All were as wax statues on display. Just as the candle near his cot, the cooking fires that both warmed and lit the camp glowed bright but did not flicker or give off heat. The silence and stillness did nothing to calm his fears or the panic rising in his breast.

Sensing movement he spun to his left to see a tall warrior - dressed in black from head to foot - striding towards him. At his side padded the largest panther he had ever seen. He imagined how small his head would look in that cavernous mouth and shivered.

But neither cat nor warrior frightened him as much as the stick the warrior carried. Near flat and sword length it permeated the odour of death. It harboured a power he could feel probing at his mind. Something was trapped within that stick, something that screamed for release.


Be gentle, thank you.

ohhhh, i hope you have your running shoes on now!!!

it was clean, it was tight, it was grammatically and mechanically sound... how am I supposed to rip this to pieces???

actually I am totally giddy, because this was very good writing, and I am thrilled you shared it with us.

the only thing I can suggest to get us even further into the piece is a bit of internal dialogue. It wouldn't take much, but just a bit would have us totally enthralled with it.

*puts arse-kicking boots and whoop-ass can opener away*

AmandaLyn wrote:ohhhh, i hope you have your running shoes on now!!!
the only thing I can suggest to get us even further into the piece is a bit of internal dialogue. It wouldn't take much, but just a bit would have us totally enthralled with it.

Thank you - the dialogue comes in the next two sentences - I thought I'd posted enough!

Cheers

once again i would not disagree with Mary. Perhaps the first chapter?

I can say without reservation that I am impressed by this excerpt, and am glad you checked in here - hope you stay around and share some more, plus get to read some of the varieties written in the Block.

There may be some crit later, but it is usually in the form of another perspective for your consideration. I will tell you now that all critiques in the Block are intented to help. Malicious nature is never used (for long).

JustaMan wrote:Malicious nature is never used (for long).

Hehe. Whoop-whoop! And hurry, I need to find out what's trying to escape that sword. I liked it a bunch. Dialog's great but what was going on was enough to hold the reader just fine. I imagine the black knight is about to speak, or should I say, "The spirits are about to speak." (No problem if you have no clue what I'm talking about. Half the time I don't either. The quote came from some kid's show I used to watch when I was young. I can't remember which one it was though. But welcome again. New blood, new life, new thoughts. That's always so exciting.)

Ah, that's "Eenie meanie chili beanie, the spirits are about to speak." -a direct quote from Bullwinkle.

Thank you all - what can I say.

I only hope the rest of the work pleases you. But - beware of my crits, I don't hold back.

nor would you be asked to hold back-the only rules here are that crits are written with respect and that there main goal is to assist the writer-nothing more-it is not an ego showcase but a writer's forum which exists simply and only to aid the writer. All crits are welcome-all crits are suggestions and nothing more. Crit away. You can ask each writer or an administrator for permission to enter into the rooms of each person where you will find most if not all of there compositions-as well as poetry rooms.

Please read-About This Place. It is in Welcome to the Block