, going here Bent Tree, but I feel you've gotten lost trying to impress the reader with big hundred dollar words and extraordinary flowery vocalizations of the written utterance. I know I did.
Although the catacombs were dark and cold, Triston felt free—alive. Fogs lifted from his mind and a suffocating blanket no longer burdened his body. He missed his mother and sister terribly, but he grimaced remembering their lethargy and the lifelessness that glazed their dispassionate faces. In their mirrored eyes he could only see death.
On the third night of wandering, he heard it; faint at first, the soft melodic song trickled through the tunnel. He paused. His senses enlivened and fond memories stirred. Long forgotten tastes danced across his tongue and he could feel the warmness of a hearth upon his cheeks. Longing for its comfort, he crawled toward the music. Through sewage, jagged rusted iron and scathing rock, he crawled.
[This message has been edited by Bent Tree (edited March 09, 2009).]
"Fogs lifted from his mind and a suffocating blanket no longer burdened his body."
I thought this read a little awkwardly, particulary the plural form of fog. I think either "The fogs (or fog) had lifted from his mind" might work better, or you could possible insert an adjective before fogs.
He missed his mother and sister terribly, but he grimaced remembering their lethargy and the lifelessness that glazed their dispassionate faces. In their mirrored eyes he could only see death.
My first impression when I read this was that "remembering" might be better as "as he remembered" and "could only see death" might read better as "could see only death'. Perhaps "He missed his mother and sister terribly, but he grimaced as he remembered the lethargy and lifelessness that glazed their dispassionate faces. In their mirrored eyes he could see only death." Also, did you perhaps mean glazed over? You could also consider switching the verb tense from "that glazed" to "glazing".
I loved the line about long-forgotten tastes dancing on his tongue. Very creative and poetic.
I thought this had a lot of great, imaginative imagery, as your pieces always do.
Keep up the good work. Best regards,
Brant
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Although the catacombs were dark and cold, Triston felt free—alive.
Okay, he’s lost and so am I. Where are these catacombs? Kentucky? Russia? The moon? Pulgeris III?
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Fogs lifted from his mind and a suffocating blanket no longer burdened his body.
Huh? What is this suffocating blanket you speak of? Is it a metaphor or a worn quilt his grandmother knitted that he was too guilty to just ditch?
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He missed his mother and sister terribly, but he grimaced remembering their lethargy and the lifelessness that glazed their dispassionate faces. In their mirrored eyes he could only see death.
Where is Ma and sis anyway? Did he leave them back in the cave or on the beach sipping on another pina-colada? Are they dead? In a coma? Smoking a bong? By this, they could be couch potatoes too lazy to lift a finger because they spend all day watch Jerry Springer and every lame judge show.
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On the third night of wandering, he heard it; faint at first, the soft melodic song trickled through the tunnel.
So he found his transistor radio. Good for him.
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He paused. His senses enlivened and fond memories stirred.
Penalty. You can’t hint about a memory and keep it from us!
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Long forgotten tastes danced across his tongue and he could feel the warmness of a hearth upon his cheeks.
What taste? How did the music provoke that sensation? And what is the song he is hearing anyway.
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Longing for its comfort, he crawled toward the music. Through sewage, jagged rusted iron and scathing rock, he crawled.
Mc is crazy. He’s lost it.
Alright, this is a mystery. I want to know who, where, and why, several times over. All we know is the guys name and not much else. You are keeping too much information. Why is he there? Why is he lost? How did he get there? What is the music about? Whats the deal with his family? Etc…
I know you can’t answer all of this but answer something.
I think you have an awesome story , going here Bent Tree, but I feel you've gotten lost trying to impress the reader with big hundred dollar words and extraordinary flowery vocalizations of the written utterance. I know I did.
quote:
He missed his mother and sister terribly, but he grimaced remembering their lethargy and the lifelessness that glazed their dispassionate faces. In their mirrored eyes he could only see death.
As much as he missed his mother and sister, he grimaced at the memory of lifelessness in their glazed dispassionate faces. He had seen only death in their mirrored eyes.
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On the third night of wandering, he heard it
maybe something like this:
On the third night of wandering he became aware of a faint melodic tune trickling through the tunnel that enlivened his senses. Fond memories stirred; long forgotten tastes danced across his tongue; he could feel the warmness of a hearth upon his cheeks. Longing for its comfort he was compelled to ...
If I'm going at this all wrong, please let me know 
. For what it's worth...
TL
[This message has been edited by TLBailey (edited March 10, 2009).]
In their mirrored eyes? Did he look at their eyes in a mirror? Or did you mean to say "He could see only death mirrored in their eyes?"
Ard-choille,
Rob Roy