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Old 05-31-2017, 06:54 AM View Post #1 (Link) Within My Blood (Prologue)
SerialLove (Offline)
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A/N: A couple things before you read this...
Spoiler:
One, I used to be on this site a long time ago and in case you ask who I was before, I'm not going tell you because I want this to be a new start without bias. That said, I'm not sure if I have posted this before, I don't believe I have but like I said, I'm not sure. However I have changed it up since I originally wrote this, therefore I would really appreciate some honest feedback.

Two, I've never really gotten as far into writing a novel as I am right now. I know my work will most likely be rough but that's why I'm here, I need all the help I can get.

Three, I am aware that as far as plot development/chapter wise goes this is rather short. I can always lengthen it but for now this is what I have. Thanks for reading.


"In the name of the spirit of God that resides within us all..."
200 years earlier...

The sickling-sweet essence of fresh cut grass and recently jarred honey flew on the breeze. Children ran around laughing, their voices like wind chimes bouncing off the walls of the village houses. They chased one another through the streets splashing their feet in the puddles of water that accumulated from the recent rain. Tag is what they called it. Women stood with weaved wooden baskets at their sides, hanging the fresh linen on the line while their husbands sat under the sagging porches smoking cigars and chatting about the recent harvest.

It was a decent crop this year for most, enough to get them all through the winter. Yet, like always, the men complained about how it could have been better, how they could have provided for their families more if only they had the money and a lot more time. But then again, like always as well, it wasn't them who controlled the harvest season nor was it them who controlled the harvest itself. It was the year, the rain and mother nature. So as the hours passed, the men would sit and complain about things that may never be changed and the women would hang the laundry, shaking their head and smiling.

It was on one of these perfect days that the setting sun and the roll of the mountain road carried with them a stranger. A mangled mass of dirt and hair and clothes, a man who dragged behind him the chain of defeat. He smelled of the pine trees and body odor and when he looked up his eyes were cast with a blanket of pain. As he reached the edges of the villages people stopped dead in their tracks, for they hadn't seen a man as such before. The children ran and hid and the men sat straighter, weary. His lips parted as if he had something to say but then they closed again and he just continued walking.

It was then, that they could see the blood which plastered his clothes to his body, and his feet. they left small pools of crimson with each step. The man walked until someone stood in his way and he stopped and let his shoulders hang low. With one glance up towards the fading light he let out a scream, crumpling to the ground.
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Old 05-31-2017, 07:54 PM View Post #2 (Link)
WordWizard (Offline)
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This is a great prologue. I love your writing style. I liked how the man was kind of mysteries. The ending came too fast in my opinion. Also, I found the paragraphs kind of repetitive in themselves. Transitions, would help the story run smoothly so that we wont be confused.

This was a great story. I can't wait to see what happens next.
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Old 06-01-2017, 03:20 PM View Post #3 (Link)
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This write up is just to wonderful to me, I love your use of figures of speech "Children ran around laughing, their voices like wind chimes bouncing off the walls of the village houses.". "...the roll of the mountain road carried with them a stranger" it painted the write up well. In my own idea I would have love it, if you allow the children hide in the comfort of their mothers, that would have also tell us the responsibility of the mother when we already learnt that the father work on the farm to carther for the family.
I aslo love the backgroung you painted your story on, you did a great job.....I must tell you am following.
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Old 06-01-2017, 04:47 PM View Post #4 (Link)
Georgy (Offline)
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The sickling-sweet essence of fresh cut grass and recently jarred honey flew on the breeze. Children ran around laughing, their voices like wind chimes bouncing off the walls of the village houses. They chased one another through the streets splashing their feet in the puddles of water that accumulated from the recent rain.
((((((((( (There is no need to explain the origin of puddles. For most people it goes without saying that rain in most cases produces puddles, all right?)))))))))

Tag is what they called it. Women stood with weaved wooden baskets at their sides, hanging the fresh linen on the line while their husbands sat under the sagging porches smoking cigars and chatting about the recent harvest.

It was a decent crop this year for most, enough to get them all through the winter. Yet, like always, the men complained about how it could have been better, how they could have provided for their families more if only they had the money and a lot more time. But then again, like always as well, it wasn't them who controlled the harvest season nor was it them who controlled the harvest itself.
(((((((( Please, try to avoid banalities. The matter is you are explaining well known(to everybody) things which add nothing to the plot and characteristics of personages. You are not going to make your reader yawn, right?)))))))

It was the year, the rain and mother nature. So as the hours passed, the men would sit and complain about things that may never be changed and the women would hang the laundry, shaking their head and smiling.

It was on one of these perfect days that the setting sun and the roll of the mountain road carried with them a stranger. A mangled mass of dirt and hair and clothes, a man who dragged behind him the chain of defeat. He smelled of the pine trees and body odor(((((((((I don't quite understand why he should smell like this. Maybe some elucidation on that account would not be redundant.)))))))))))))))) and when he looked up his eyes were cast with a blanket of pain.
(((((((The word "blanket" has a connotation of something warm, soft and comfortable while pain is totally different story. Are you sure this is an appropriate metaphor? If you meant "blanket" as an adjective the preposition "of" is redundant.)))))))))

As he reached the edges of the villages people stopped dead in their tracks, for they hadn't seen a man as such before. The children ran and hid and the men sat straighter, weary. His lips parted as if he had something to say but then they closed again and he just continued walking.

It was then, that they could see the blood which plastered his clothes to his body, and his feet. they left small pools of crimson with each step. The man walked until someone stood in his way and he stopped and let his shoulders hang low. With one glance up towards the fading light he let out a scream, crumpling to the ground.

Well,
You described very vividly his nasty clothes, and that's good but what about his looks, except blanket of pain covering his eyes?
Overall, I think not a bad excerpt from your novel and keep writing taking into account what people on YWO say to you. Good Luck!
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						Last edited by Georgy; 06-04-2017 at 07:14 PM.
					
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