Ok new story alert. Please read for Jesus' sake. Feedback below, please post some. I promise a cookie for da first one A life of lies Prologue Iris Beaufort leapt over the wall and crept towards the window. It was open, and she slid through easily. The light flickered on in the room and Iris looked towards the operator. "This is my granddaughter Erika, no need to be alarmed. She just likes to avoid the attention she seems to attract. And flowers, how nice." an old woman croaked from one of the five beds in the room. "She really is harmless, aren't you Iris?" Iris stared at the said Erika. She was small and timid, unlike Iris, who was tall and broad-shouldered, with long brown hair and lilac eyes, her greatest asset in times like these, in others not so great an advantage. "Could you leave the room for a minute, Erika?" she asked politely, but assertively. She did so, and Iris turned towards her grandmother, tears in her eyes. Neither of them spoke for a while. "Don't fool me Iris. I know exactly whats going on. Don't lie to my face and tell me 'Get well soon' or cry and tell me you love me. I know that, and while I still have time, I need to give you something." Iris began to pace the otherwise empty room, and looked out at the starry sky through the open window, while her grandmother fumbled around in her handbag, disconnecting the drip she was connected to. The clock in the hospice ward ticked mercilessly in Iris' ear, reminding her of the little time she had left with her only sober relative. Another tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away hurriedly. Now was not the time. Her grandmother sighed. "I have them, Iris. From your mother, and one from your uncle. I could never give them to you without explaining a hundred things that would never make sense to you. Run away Iris, there is nothing for you here. Find your uncle, take Emeron if you must. Your father never deserved you. May he rot in hell I say. Go now iris, take these and go. I will meet you in the next life, where petty worries such as money and death have no meaning. I love you Iris, go, my work is done here, go." Iris looked down at her grandmothers hand. She took the letters and stared at the cursive writing on the envelope. But her mother had died thirteen years ago. She would later puzzle over this, as with many other things, but now was not the time. She closed her dead grandmothers eyelids, and stole away into the night. Chapter one coming soon, but only if a GOOD FEW think it's worth it
This is a bit of a slow start for my taste. It was a bit hard for me to follow and keep entertained without any character development. Spelling and grammar is acceptable. There were some mistakes, such as comma splices and missing commas when setting off names. Give us some more character development. Also add some motivation to the story by being more specific about the opening scene. I recommend setting the scene before jumping right into it. You usually get about 30 seconds to captivate the reader before they move on.
You're welcome. You're clearly a talented writer. I'm sure you'll be even better with a little fine-tuning. Cheers.
I agree with the others. I'm intigued and willing to read on; I just want to find out more about Iris.
Chapter one. Iris glanced at the three tattered outfits she had laid out on the bed. She didn't have much, which was a good thing now, because not a lot would fit in her small rucksack. She shoved them along with her precious unopened letters into the small green bag and slung it over her back. "You're crazy Iris, insane." chuckled a tall black haired teenager from the other side of the small bedroom. "Oh please," was Iris' retort, "You were the one who came up with the idea in the first place." "yeah, but your grandmother had to die before you actually thought about leaving this hellhole." Emeron stared at Iris' crestfallen face, for Emeron was his name. "I'm sorry Iris. That was a stupid thing to say." "Stupid comment from a stupid boyfriend." was her reply. She walked out into the small kitchenette Iris had shared with her father and grandmother. But Celeste would never wake again, and as for her father, well from this day forward, she would disband him. She glanced at him now, dozing on a small wicker chair in the corner, beer bottle still rolling in a pool of the poison underneath. The scene of the crime. Her grandmother had been right. May he rot in hell. Iris fumbled around, searching for something in the yellow cupboards. Her hand found what it wanted, and she waved the small amount of money in Emeron's bewildered face. "Got it." **** A young girl walks into the playground. Her dad walks behind her cautiously, glaring at the people that dare stare. The child is oblivious to this and she skips towards the swings, long brown hair weaving through the air, lilac eyes alight with the excitement of a five year old child. The playground quickly empties, but neither the girl or the father is surprised. Both are no stranger to loneliness. The girl notices a small black haired boy watching her through the hedge. His wide blue eyes show no sign of fear or shock, merely curiosity. "Want to be best friends?" the five year old asks the boy. And from that day on, they were. Iris glanced across at him now, sleeping on his rucksack. There wasn't much else you could do in the train carriage, they had now been travelling in for over an hour, and now Iris understood why people hardly ever went in them these days. She took the letters out of her rucksack and looked at them once more. As soon as she got somewhere safe she would open each and pore over them individually. All she needed now was her uncle's address, which she had copied down already from the outside of one of the brown envelopes, and which resided in her pocket for the time being. There were no seats in the carriage, which reminded Iris of a horse box she had once seen, and a horrible smell hung in the air. There were holes in the tin roof and the door looked like it could swing open at any moment. But the driver had let them have it at a discounted rate, and it was about as good a mode of transport you could get in a class three area. There were three social divisions, and your house, money and social status defined which division you belonged in. Unfortunately for both Iris and Emeron, they were both restricted to class three areas, the slums admittedly. But they would have to break that rule now, and try to avoid being checked for class two passports, which neither of them had. The address Iris had was there, and the small scrap of paper it was on was her new lifeline. The 'train' pulled up in the station and Iris glanced through the crack in the carriage door. It was getting darker outside, but Iris could still see the dark clad men patrolling the station. Passport control. Iris woke Emeron up hurriedly and pointed at the men. Emeron had been an orphan for as long as he could remember, and had escaped the children's home he had been put in at the age of eight, surviving on leftover food and living in a shed for two years. Now at the age of nineteen, two years older than Iris, he had endured more hardship than most of the class three population put together. A couple of men in suits were nothing to him. He pulled an empty can from the bag on his back and flung it out onto the track. It rolled around suspiciously on the track, and an alarm sounded from the station hut. The men ran for cover and began shooting at the can, while Iris and Emeron crept silently out and onto the main road. "How did you know?" wondered Iris aloud, once they were a safe distance away from the station. "Those guys think everything is a bomb," laughed Emeron. Then he stopped and cocked his head to the left, "Wait, did you hear that?" Iris turned around, and hearing nothing, she began crossing to the other side of the road, smirking at Emeron's nerves. Emeron, however, sensing that something was wrong, ran out after her. Just in time to see the headlights approach. Just in time to hear the piercing scream ring out through the darkness as the car smashed into them both. Just in time to see the four slight figures, who clearly were not guards, tow away Iris' unconscious body and lift her into the car. Just in time to hear the scream that must of been his own, call out for her. Powerless to help.
Please post feedback on the chapter. Ive re-read it and it's quite slow. I wanted to introduce Iris as a character a bit more. Emeron is in around five chapters in the whole book he's not that important. Please tell me what you think should happen next. I already know but if your idea is really good I might try and include it. Thanks
Wait you see the stars in "Emeron c ocked his head to the left? Well it can't really classify as bypassing because that is not a bad word when used correctly
Only if more people feedback. U have no idea how disheartening it is to spend at least 45 mins creating that and two people post. :cry:
Hm. Hello again, Kate. 'S been a while, no? Anywho. Your development itself is working quite well, and you've acheived a decent mixture. (Still not the best, but getting there.) I'd suggest spending a touch longer, just on revisions and the like. Putting it down for five minutes and coming back reveals error... after error... after error. Especially things that you could have better worded.
I'm finally feedbacking Your prologue was...adequate. I must admit, I was only reading it so that I would understand the following chapters, it did not really captivate me. I would say that you need more character background to fill in the gaps, but you did use a bit in chapter one so I can't really complain. Your chapter one had varying degrees of quality. You have quite a few grammatical mistakes. For example, in the prologue, where you wrote, "This is my granddaughter Erika, no need to be alarmed." I was confused, I thought that you meant that Erika was her granddaughter, until I read on and realised that Iris was. For the meaning you were trying to convey, it should have been, "This is my granddaughter, Erika, no need to be alarmed." Because she is speaking TO Erika, not ABOUT Erika. Understand? Quick rule: new speaker, new line. Always be sure to make Iris have a capital. An iris is a part of your eye. So if you said 'iris was very red', people could mistake that for somebody's iris in their eye. Finally, might I suggest a feedback/discussion page? Would be more sufficient for your readers so they will not have to scroll though pages of comments! However, constructive criticism aside, seems to be an interesting, original plot coming along. Keep it up!