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Author Topic: Something in the Air
Robyn_Hood
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This is a story I had published on-line and I'm now looking to shop it around as a re-print in a print magazine. I had posted last year for critique but never actually finished making the corrections because it got accepted as is.

I know it could improve greatly with a bit of tweaking.

Any feedback would be helpful.
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Genre: Horror/Dark Fantasy
Words: 2000
Title: Something in the Air
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“Kill him. That’s what I’ll do – kill him. I’ll wring his scrawny little neck and with these daggers plastered to the ends of my fingers maybe he’ll bleed a bit too.” The thought struck Lia as funny and she licked her lips, “Mmm, tasty! At least they’ll be good for something. In seven hundred years I have never felt so degraded.”

Yet, here she was, strolling down Granville Street toward some waterfront dive. Her bosom protruding from a black satin cage around her chest, nails unnaturally long and a scandalous shade of crimson, balancing atop a pair of six-inch spike-heeled tango shoes.

“Nothing but a tantalizing piece of meat; it had better be worth it. If I don’t get that guy tonight I’m quitting. Let the Dane walk around like a cheap hooker,” she grumbled to herself as she stepped through the door. The place reeked of booze and the air was thick with smoke.


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Keeley
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I'll read. Send it over.
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Ray
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I'll read too.
Posts: 329 | Registered: Mar 2005  | Report this post to a Moderator
ablelaz
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HI Robyn Hood---This is a very interesting piece and all to short to get a good feel for where it’s going
(“Kill him. That’s what I’ll do – kill him. I’ll wring his scrawny little neck and with these daggers plastered to the ends of my fingers maybe he’ll bleed a bit too.” The thought struck Lia as funny and she licked her lips, “Mmm, tasty! At least they’ll be good for something. In seven hundred years I have never felt so degraded.”)
I think you are telling this story from a first person, present tense p.v.o.., at least so far. I’m dumped into this story at a very emotional time in Lea’s life, with little or no information about her, or what has displeased her. All though the first paragraph I find myself trying to understand a little more about this story and what’s happening to no avail. Even at the end of your thirteen line submission I have very little information about Lia and this fact now becomes a problem for me. My next point is your use of quotation marks around what is, in reality thought not dialog. I don’t know how big a problem in literary circles this is, but when you come to a place were you want to use dialog how you will separate it from the thought. Now at the end of this paragraph I find that this woman is over seven hundred years old, or is this an exaggeration on her part.
(Yet, here she was, strolling down Granville Street toward some waterfront dive. Her bosom protruding from a black satin cage around her chest, nails unnaturally long and a scandalous shade of crimson, balancing atop a pair of six-inch spike-heeled tango shoes. )
The first impression I get is a woman walking down the street her naked bosoms protruding though a black satin cage. Next I see unnaturally long nails, of a shocking red, balanced atop pair of six-inch spike healed tango shoes. Suggestion--- Her bosoms straining against a black satin cage around her chest, finger nails bright crimson and unusual long extended from each finger, slim legs balanced atop a pair of six-inch spike heeled tango shoes. Well not a big difference, you be the judge.
(“Nothing but a tantalizing piece of meat; it had better be worth it. If I don’t get that guy tonight I’m quitting. Let the Dane walk around like a cheap hooker,” she grumbled to herself as she stepped through the door. The place reeked of booze and the air was thick with smoke.)
I`m a little confused, who is the Dane, Lia perhaps?
I would be happy to read the entire piece if you want me to.
E-mail--- ablelaz@execulink.com


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Robyn_Hood
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Okay, I've sent it out to those who asked.

I've already made some changes based on the comments here:

Lia muttered to herself as she walked down the street. “Kill him. That’s what I’ll do – kill him. I’ll wring his scrawny little neck and with these daggers plastered to the ends of my fingers maybe he’ll bleed a bit too.” The thought struck her as funny and she licked her lips, “Mmm, tasty! At least they’ll be good for something. In seven hundred years I have never felt so degraded.”

Yet, here she was, strolling down Granville Street toward some waterfront dive. Her bosom protruding from a black satin cage around her chest; her fingernails unnaturally long and a scandalous shade of crimson; unsteadily balancing atop a pair of six-inch, spike-heeled tango shoes.

“Nothing but a tantalizing piece of meat; it had better be worth it. If I don’t get that guy tonight I’m quitting. If the Dane wants this done so badly he can bloody well get himself all dolled-up to walk around like a cheap hooker,” she grumbled as she stepped through the door. The place reeked of booze and the air was thick with smoke.


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TaShaJaRo
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I will read it.
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