Death and I - Chapter 3: The Awakening of the Death Seeker

[esupin]

I dig the story, just one question:

The voice says that the soul seeker will be joined with death to become the death seeker, but isn't Lucy Death? Or is she just the Grim Reaper?

[Chromer]

Lucy is Death Incarnate. This means that she is the physical form of death, not the actual process of death. This means that Chris joined with Death by dying, meaning part of his soul had to die in order to become a Death Seeker. This is my theory. You guys can interpret it in your own way. :P

[FoJaR]

Re: Death and I - Chapter 3: The Awakening of the Death Seek

Ok guys, the first chapter was a hit so here is chapter two.

Death and I - Chapter One: A Touch To Remember
http://www.flashflashrevolution.com/...wtopic&t=38362


Death and I

Chapter Two: Death Reveals


Chris wept for three hours before he finally was composed enough to stand on his own two feet. His head rose above the counter and saw that the sun was almost down as the sky was now a deep golden red. Strangely, no other customers had entered the store after the woman left. He knew that the next shift cashier would be coming in any moment, and Chris didn't want to bothered with at the moment.

bothered with what?

Five minutes later, a middle aged man walked in, waring the same uniform as Chris.

"Hi Chris! See any hot young ladies today?" asked the man jokingly.

Chris did not answer, but only nodded to the man in solemn silence.

"Well you can go on home now. I have the shift until Mark comes in at Midnight," said the man.

Chris grabbed his leather jacket, waved back to the man, and stepped out onto the street. His face had te look of a weather beaten stone,

lol. i would like you to show me the difference between a regular stone and a "weather beaten" stone.

as if he had lived a longer life than his body appeared to show.

so it looks like he'd lived a longer life than it would look like... lol.

Something had definitely happened that afternoon. Chris earlier tried to dismiss it as a dream but the dent in the plastic case of the cigarette cabinet told him otherwise. And the warning the woman gave him scared him most of all. She would come back to take from him what he dared to look into.

poor choice. you tried to go deep and it didnt work.

Of course Chris knew that she meant his soul and he became scared. Who exactly was this woman? Why did she call him a Soul Seeker? Why had he seen the vision of pain and death in her? Most of all, why had her eyes glowed that demonic red aura?

again, you are trying too hard, and it shows. reading that last paragraph was like reading emo kid poetry.

Too many questions and too little answers racked his brain.

too few answers.

Chris walked down the empty street and looked around. People were closing down thier shops for the day and going home to their families. Chris, having no car, could only watch as the owners got into thier cars and drove away.

that last sentance doesnt flow well. if you changed owners to something else it might fix it though.

He turned right on Main Street and began walking down Bridgetown Road.

physically impossible.

Houses began to develop on either side of him as he entered his neighborhood.

develop doesnt work.

He watched as men and women finished mowing lawns, cooking barbecues, or gardening thier flowers.

men and women is excessive. try people. cooking barbecues is redundant and incorrect.

These people lived only for themselves, not ever caring for the world outside of their hermetically sealed existence. Chris hated these people more than anything. In some sense, he hated himself just as much, for he was like them.

cliched.

During the school year, he mostly kept to himself and only had few friends. The only joy he had was to come to work and acquire more thoughts for the night.

makes no sense.

However, after the experience he had tonight, it would be a while before he touched anyone but himself.

there is no reason for the "However", and the whole sentance is extraneous.

Chris turned left and slowly walked up his driveway to his front door. He heard a dog bark down the street before he took out his house key and opened the door. He entered his dark house and close the door behind him. He continued forward down his foyer, dropping his jacket by the staircase and turned left towards the kitchen. He flipped on the light and and saw a white piece of paper on his kitchen table. He grabbed and read.


CHRIS:

I HAVE TO WORK LATE TONIGHT. THERE ARE LEFTOVERS IN THE FRIDGE. HAVE A GOOD NIGHT HONEY.

-MOM

Chris crumpled the note in disgust and threw into the trash can.

disgust is the wrong word.

His mother again was going to be late getting home. Chris knew she wasn't working, only hanging out with her co-workers and getting drunk on Apple Martinis.

again is misplaced, only is the wrong word.

After his father had left, his mother had hit a pretty bad slump in her life.

take out the hads, the "in her life" is also not nessicary.

As a vice president of a computer company, she had no problem sustaining Chris and herself financially. But mentally, the lonliness had eaten away at her. Chris silently warmed up the leftover lasaugna in the fridge and ate it in front of the tv. Even though his favorite show was on, he had no interest in it. He walked upstairs to his room and decided to take a shower. He closed his eyes as the hot waterbeat his back like a waterfall. The red glowing eyes of the woman instantly returned and he opened them quickly. The image of the woman's eyes would not leave Chris' mind now matter how hard he tried.

Chris returned to his room and got dressed in his bed clothes: a pair of pajama pants with anchors on them and a short sleeve shirt that said, "I Love To Party!" on it. He was closing his door when a cold wind began to blow at his back. Chris turned around quickly and saw what it was. His window had come open mysteriously.

OMG IT'S A MYSTERY!

What was more bizarre was a cold wind in July.

there are probably a dozen ways to say this that sound better.

Chris hesitantly closed his window, turned off the light, and got into bed. The lime green glow of his alarm clock cast an eerie setting over the room as Chris could only stare at his ceiling. The fear of the woman began to increase and increase as the hours passed.

again, it sounds corny.

Midnight came and yet Chris had still not fallen asleep.

Finally, seeing as the woman would probably not show, Chris fell asleep.

poorly written sentance.

WHOOSH. The window again flew open and Chris' eyes opened immediately.

did the window fly open the first time? i dont recall... "WHOOSH" indeed.

The wind died down but Chris began to cough.

change the "but" to an "and".

He could see his breath again. Now however, icicles began to grow on his desk and closet, while the room began to freeze.

get rid of the "Now however", and "while the room began to freeze" doesnt sound good.

Chris looked at the icicle near his head and looked back.

looked back at what? what was he looking at originally?

A tall figure in a long hooded black robe and holding a rather large and dangerous looking scythe stood beside his bed.

take out the "and" and reword the rest of that sentance.

Chris looked at the figure and saw that it had a smooth flowing figure near the chest and hips.

using figure the way you did sounds redundant even though you use it in two different capacaties. as for the rest of the sentance, i'd say scrap it. because it's very poorly written.

Chris began to shake with fear. The figure lifted it's arm and a pale white hand underneath the robe reached for Chris.

too many subjects in the second sentance.

Chris scrunched himself against the wall and yelled.

"Get away from me you psycho woman!"

The figure's hand stopped and reached for the hood. It pulled it off and Chris' fears were confirmed. It was the woman from the afternoon. She chuckled at Chris' remark.

generally poor writing.

"After hundreds of years, you're the first one to ever call me psycho!" laughed the woman as she put her hand over her mouth.

after is not the right word, but that doesnt really matter because the whole sentance should be scrapped.

Chris waited in fear as the woman's laughter faded. Then he swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke again.

"Just who the hell are you and what do you want with me?"

The woman's face became serious and she took her hand off of her scythe, which disappeared.

"I am called many names. Morte, The Black Horseman, Angel of Death, and the universal name of just Death. I however have given myself my own name. I call myself Lucy," answered the woman.

too wordy. simplify it.

Chris still did not like this woman, even if her name was Lucy.

LOL

"Well Lucy, what do you want with me?" asked Chris.

Lucy rubbed her chin and looked at Chris.

"Plain and simple sugar. I'm here for your soul. Why else would Death be here?" asked Lucy.

sounds stupid.

Chris' eyes opened wide in fear.

"Why MY soul!? I'm not ready to die yet!" cried Chris.

change "why MY soul" to something else.

"Too bad honey! You take a peek into the soul of Death, you have to die! You have seen things that only The Master and I shall ever have access to!

again, a failed attempt at depth. that sounds really cheesy.

I've come for your soul Chris Judgeman! May The Master have mercy on your soul!" screamed Lucy as she summoned her scythe out of thin air and swung it down at Chris.

too much soul, and "the master" sounds ridiculous.

Chris dodged out of the way, but the scythe nicked his shoulder cutting it open. Chris looked down to see a white silvery looking fluid begin to drip down his arm.

you get one point.

"Oh my God. is that my soul?" asked Chris loudly.

Chris ran from the room and tumbled down the stairs still holding his shoulder. He opened the door only to run into Lucy headon. She felt suprisingly soft and warm as he bumped into her and fell on his back. He looked up to Lucy as she raised the scythe for the final blow. She swung down and Chris closed his eyes and waited. Only silence came after the scythe dropped.

Chapter Three coming soon.

overall, the story was trite and not compelling in the least. on my first read through, i tried to ignore the grammatical errors and focus on the plot, which was not entirely possible. your writing style detracted from what little substance there was to this story.

your writing shows a poor understanding of sentance structure, and an overuse of vocabulary that sacrifices clarity and cohesiveness. the best word i can use to describe this story is "cheesy".

i hope that some of the things i've said have helped, even if you choose to ignore the comments that might injure your pride.

[Moogy]

Wow, Fojar is correct on pretty much all counts.

Except how to spell the word "sentence."

But I suppose that could be forgiven, for someone with such a keen critical wit.

[FoJaR]

yeah sorry, my spelling has been on the decline lately.

[Chromer]

First of all:

1. Moogy, I'm going to completely disregard your inane comments. All you seem to do is follow Fojar like you're his little school girl b1tch.

2. Fojar, are a literary scholar? Are you an English professor? Are you even a high school English teacher? Then, who am I to take any of your highly unintelligent rantings to mind? God, if you were at least going to analyze something, at least type them in sentences with correct punctuation and grammar. Besides, like I said before, until YOU actually write something, I could give a damn about what you say.

[FoJaR]

2. Fojar, are a literary scholar?

as far as you know.

Are you an English professor?

nope.

Are you even a high school English teacher?

LOL!

Then, who am I to take any of your highly unintelligent rantings to mind?

they werent rantings. they were cold calculated remarks about the substance of your writing.

God, if you were at least going to analyze something, at least type them in sentences with correct punctuation and grammar.

lol, i wasnt writing an essay about it. imagine everything i said written in red ink on top of a printed copy of your story. in that context, my grammar was perfect.

Besides, like I said before, until YOU actually write something, I could give a damn about what you say.

why is that? because to satisfy your ego you need to attack back?

listen man, you asked for specific problems with your writing and i gave them to you. now man up and stop acting like a little bitch.

[MalReynolds]

I don't really want to get drawn into the middle of this, but I'm just throwing myself onto the fire.

Most critics aren't film makers, or authors. They're people that know what they enjoy. Yes, there were some snarky jabs in that critique, but don't take it like it's an assination of character attempt. Tass used to do the same thing to my stories, and when I went back and re-edited them, I would take his advice into account. Now, he doesn't know this, because I never post the same story twice as a rule. You guys get the first draft.

Take it in stride as an in depth critique.

My .02

Mal

[Chromer]

Pssh if Fojar would stop acting like King Jackass of The Universe, then I would use his unintelligent criticism positively. Other than that, he's just another disgruntled fan.

[FoJaR]

you leave me no choice.

[FoJaR]

[Grandiagod]

Fojar is being kind of a jackass. But He is right on pretty much all counts. Don't disregard helpful criticizm just because it comes from a source you don't like. Live and learn.

EDIT Okay, I'm outa this arguement.

[FoJaR]

jackass is only one of the many facets of my personality.

[FoJaR]

well, three if you include awful jackass and insufferable jackass.

[Anonymous]

Pssh if Fojar would stop acting like King Jackass of The Universe, then I would use his unintelligent criticism positively. Other than that, he's just another disgruntled fan.

So you're steadfastly refusing to see that a critic has something to offer? You know that kind of thing is helpful? When I write, I take it to my HARSHEST friends and rivals. I sometimes take it to people who don't particularly like me, so that they don't spare me any truth. Plus you need to get constructive opinions of all different types of people to anticipate how your audience will react.

Stop being so stuck up and admit you have flaws in your writing.

Or don't, I really don't care either way, you're the only one making a fool of yourself.

-Fish