this is just another begining to a story i wrote. again, i'm really bad at first person so it's not that good but first person's so much fun to write so i've been working on it. hopefully no one minds: it's kinda depressing. not like the whole story's gonna be depressing but i had to give the main character a relevantly depressing backgrond so i can give her the personality i want. it's also good for character development. don't worry though. it'll get better. once i think of what to write. i know it's not fantasy yet but i wanna make it fantasy so i put it here. i have some vague ideas but not really much of a plotline in mind so i'm open to any ideas. maybe this group that she ends up hanging with can be a group of runaways with weird powers? i dunno! tell me what you think.
Chapter 1
Numb. The rain was cold, pouring down on me and freezing my bare arms. Salty tears stung my eyes, and my head was pounding. I bit my lip and leaned my head back, knocking it against the cold stone alley wall and making my teeth sink into my lip, drawing blood. Shivering, I pulled my knees up closer to my chest and buried my head in them, letting my tears flow freely, mingling with the rain. But all of this seemed like it was happening to another person. I was numb. I could no longer feel a thing.
* * * * * * *
Flash
I could see my father coming towards me in a drunken rage. Facing him straight on, I stared defiantly into his fiery eyes. He slapped my face, hard and I fell to the ground. With shaking hands, he grabbed a steak knife from the counter and brandished it at me. I slunk back into the corner and pulled my knees toward me. My face was emotionless, not showing the fear that was racking me. “It’s your fault!” he was yelling at me at the top of his lungs. I knew he was talking about my mothers death. She had been the one person in the world who had ever cared about me, and she had died from a heart attack just two months ago. From there, everything had only gone downhill. My fathers drinking habits had worsened and he hated me even more than he always had. He blamed me for my mothers death. I have no idea why, just that he did. But with him approaching me, angrily brandishing that knife, all I could think of was that I was going to die.
Flash
The knife glinted in the dim light of the room, inches from my heart.
Flash
In a last effort at survival, I kicked both feet out, using all my strength.
Flash
My feet hit him hard in the stomach, in a glancing blow. He flew back and fell all the way down the stairs that I hadn’t realized were so close.
Flash
I looked down over his unmoving body, half expecting him to get up and hit me again. But he was never to hurt me again. His neck was bent in an odd angle and I knew it was broken.
* * * * * * *
Sitting against the alley wall, the memories came rushing back in a blur. Hard to believe it had happened only two hours ago. After that, everything had happened in slow motion. I had run upstairs and packed a knapsack. I had run as fast and as far as I could, until my bare feet were as numb, and my heart was pounding like a drum in my chest. I slunk into a dark alley to get a hold on myself.
I was frozen and shivering. I knew I had to gain control of myself. I had already let my emotions get more out of hand than they had in a long time. Despite the hardships of my life, I couldn’t remember the last time I had let myself cry. I was tough and I had good self-control. I could put my emotions into a box and lock them away. I had lost that key long ago.
Through the sound of the rain, I heard another sound. The splashing of feet, walking through the puddles – towards me.
I turned to see a ruddy teenage boy, around my age - fifteen – staring at me from a few feet away. He was good-looking, I had to admit, with strong features and overlong black hair. Looking into his cool blue eyes was like plunging into a lake.
“What do you want?” I asked coldly.
Most people have always shied away from me automatically, and the few who didn’t were put down by my cool remarks. But this kid seemed unperturbed.
He gave me a knowing smile, showing dimples, and answered easily, “just to help you.”
“Oh yeah?” I countered, “What makes you think I need your help?”
“Everyone need a friend,” he said.
Who was this guy – Barney? He was just about as corny.
“Well I don’t need anyone,” I informed him.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
I wouldn’t admit it to him, but maybe he was right. Maybe I could use a bit of help. I was freezing and I had nowhere to go.
He extended a hand toward me and said quietly, “please let me help you.”
I decided to try one more time. “I’m a fugitive. The police are gonna be after me soon. You don’t want anything to do with me.”
“I think I can decide that for myself.”
“All right, then.” I took his hand and he pulled me up, grinning.
“My name’s Rick, by the way,” he offered.
“J.D.” I gave him the name I had decided on.
“Jane Doe?” he asked.
I blinked, surprised. “How’d you_”
“You want to be unidentified, forget your past, start a new. I’ve been a runaway for five years and I’ve met enough of the type to know.”
Oh.
“You look cold,” he observed.
I was. I was wearing short sleeves and I was barefoot. The rain was pouring down, unbelievably cold. I didn’t say that, though. I shrugged.
He took off his trench coat and held it out to me. “Here.”
“I can’t_”
“Please?” he walked over and put it around my shoulders, stepping away before I could say anything.
I was touched. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. I lowered my head, my long black hair falling over my face. I was suddenly feeling shy.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“No problem,” he said with a grin, “now come meet the others.”
Comments in blue
Chapter 1
Numb. The rain was cold, pouring down on me and freezing my bare arms. Salty tears stung my eyes, and my head was pounding. I bit my lip and leaned my head back, knocking it against the cold stone alley wall and making my teeth sink into my lip, drawing blood. Shivering, I pulled my knees up closer to my chest and buried my head in them, letting my tears flow freely, mingling with the rain. But all of this seemed like it was happening to another person. I was numb. I could no longer feel a thing. This paragraph is really good! Engaging and well written.
* * * * * * *
Flash
I could see my father coming towards me in a drunken rage. Facing him straight on why is she facing him straight on? From her intro I picture her as more timid. Say her motives; say what she’s thinking., I stared defiantly into his fiery eyes. He slapped my face, hard, and I fell to the ground. With shaking hands why are they shaking? Because of the booze? Explain yourself, he grabbed a steak knife from the counter and brandished it at me. I slunk back into the corner and pulled my knees toward me. My face was emotionless, not showing the fear that was racking me. Inconsistent. Is she scared or not? Timid or brave?
New paragraph here.“It’s your fault!” he was yelling should be in current, not in imperfect tense (i.e. “was”), because otherwise it seems like she’s not listening to him and lowers the dramatic impact at me at the top of his lungs. I knew he was talking about my mother’s death. She had been the one person in the world who had ever cared about me, and she had died from a heart attack just two months ago. From there, everything had only gone downhill. My fathers drinking habits had worsened and he hated me even more than he always had. He blamed me for my mothers death. I have no idea why, just that he did. But with him approaching me, angrily brandishing that knife, all I could think of was that I was going to die. It’s good for a thought process, but you should make sure the reader knows it’s a thought process. Here it’s just random background exposition and it’s kind of out of place.
Flash
The knife glinted in the dim light of the room, inches from my heart.
Flash
In a last effort at survival, I kicked both feet out, using all my strength.
Flash
My feet hit him hard in the stomach, in a glancing blow. He flew back and fell all the way down the stairs that I hadn’t realized were so close.
Flash
I looked down over his unmoving body, half expecting him to get up and hit me again. But he was never to hurt me again. His neck was bent in an odd angle and I knew it was broken. These ‘flashes’ make for good response, but they kind of break up the flow.
* * * * * * *
Sitting against the alley wall, the memories came rushing back in a blur. Don’t use slang in thoughts; complete your sentences. “It was hard to believe that…”. Hard to believe it had happened only two hours ago. After that, everything had happened in slow motion. I had run upstairs and packed a knapsack. This exposition is okay, because its clearly a memory, but you might want to describe her emotional response at realizing she’s killed her father. I had run as fast and as far as I could, until my bare feet were as numb, and my heart was pounding like a drum in my chest. I slunk into a dark alley to get a hold on myself.
I was frozen and shivering. I knew I had to gain control of myself. I had already let my emotions get more out of hand than they had in a long time. Despite the hardships of my life, I couldn’t remember the last time I had let myself cry. I was tough and I had good self-control don’t make it an absolute fact. Say something like, “I knew I was tough…”. I could put my emotions into a box and lock them away. I had lost that key long ago. Nice! I like that sentence.
Through the sound of the rain, I heard another sound. The splashing of feet, walking through the puddles – towards me.
I turned to see a ruddy red? Do you mean ruddy-skinned? Ruddy-faced? teenage boy, around my age - fifteen – staring at me from a few feet away. He was good-looking, I had to admit, why is she admitting? She can just notice the fact with strong features and overlong black hair. Looking into his cool blue eyes was like plunging into a lake. Possibly more description here; how does this make her feel?
“What do you want?” I asked coldly. Why coldly? She isn’t frightened or tentative?
Most people have always shied away from me automatically, and the few who didn’t were put down by my cool remarks. But this kid seemed unperturbed. Explain here why she’s so cold.
He gave me a knowing smile, showing dimples, and answered easily, “just to help you.”
“Oh yeah?” I countered, “What makes you think I need your help?” she’s being irrational here. Either you should change it, or show us that it’s her natural reaction. Think: “Oh yeah?” I retorted automatically, immediately suspicious. People had ‘wanted’ to help me before. (countered is to calculating a word), “What makes you think I need your help?”
“Everyone need a friend,” he said.
Who was this guy – Barney? He was just about as corny. Good line.
“Well I don’t need anyone,” I informed him.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
I wouldn’t admit it to him, but maybe he was right. Maybe I could use a bit of help. I was freezing and I had nowhere to go.
He extended a hand toward me and said quietly, “please let me help you.”
I decided to try one more time. “I’m a fugitive. The police are gonna be after me soon. You don’t want anything to do with me.”
“I think I can decide that for myself.”
“All right, then.” Whoa, major face-heel turn, much? Make it more gradual, or indicate that she still doesn’t trust him and this is her only option, etc… I took his hand and he pulled me up, grinning.
“My name’s Rick, by the way,” he offered.
“J.D.” I gave him the name I had decided on.
“Jane Doe?” he asked. Eh? Is this some sort of literary reference I don’t get?
I blinked, surprised. “How’d you_”
“You want to be unidentified, forget your past, start anew anew is one word. I’ve been a runaway for five years and I’ve met enough of the type to know.”
Oh.
“You look cold,” he observed.
I was. I was wearing short sleeves and I was barefoot. The rain was pouring down, unbelievably cold. I didn’t say that, though. I shrugged.
He took off his trench coat eh? How did a poor runaway get a trench coat? Describe it as oversized, ragged-looking, etc. and held it out to me. “Here.”
“I can’t_”
“Please?” he walked over and put it around my shoulders, stepping away before I could say anything.
I was touched. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. I lowered my head, my long black hair falling over my face. I was suddenly feeling shy. Another heel-face turn! Why isn’t she suspicious anymore? Most street kids, runaways, and victims of abuse would be MUCH less trusting in real life. You should make her adjustment more gradual.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“No problem,” he said with a grin, “now come meet the others.”
H’mm. Nice! I think you’re particularly good at dialogue; pretty good at description, and not that good at describing emotions. Write more!
--Sandpiper
thanx, sandpiper! finally, someone commented! i'm so excited. btw, they didn't show up as blue so i had 2 figure it out. ya, sorry, i tend to forget, when writing, that anyone reading it doesn't know as much about my characters as i do. ya, i can always start stories pretty well and then i sorta lose it at some point. my first paragraphs are the best in a lot of my stories. alright, on to specific comments:
ya, his hand are shaking cuz of the booze. i always figure that too much is obvious. i should describe that, u're right.
i know j.d. may seem majorly inconsistent. she seems like that a lot but she's not. it's almost impossible (i say almost because there are people who can just not be scared - it matters on the person and their past - some people can not possibly be scared by one thing but another thing that wouldn't scare most people, scare them to death) not 2 feel scared in bad sitchuations it's just the matter of whether u let your emotions show or not and whether u can control your feelings. yes, it is impossible not 2 feel scared. but she can overcome that and block/overlap the feeling. so, ya, she is scared but she can swallow that and face it straight on.
i didn't describe her emotional response to killing her father because she had none. as i've mentioned, she blocks her emotions quite a lot. as it is it happened in a blur. whatever thoughts came to her head she dispelled and blocked. if she thinks, she'll break, so she doesn't think. it's as simple as that. thinking what she already did was almost too much.
she admits that he's good-looking as apposed to noticing it becaus she doesn't usually notice those types of things.
like alot of people, if she was frightened or tentative she didn't show it. she tends to block her emotions by being cold. especially if someone acted nice to her. she gets very defensive at that. partly because she's not trusting partly because she doesn't want to become close to anyone. if you let anyone in, you start to feel. once you feel, you feel the pain. she doesn't want the pain to overwhelm her so she doesn't get close with anyone.
she isn't trusting at all. i know it looks like she just turned around and started trusting him but she only pretended to. if you seem trusting people will trust you more and you can find out more about them. also, being trusting makes you seem weaker and it is a good way to see if someone really wants to take advantage of you or not.
ya, jane doe's a literary referance. well, not exactly literary. it's not from a specific book or anything. it's a relevantly well-known term for an unidentified person. you may not know it because it is most comonly used to talk about someone found dead and unidentified or someone with amnesia who doesn't know who they are. but it can also describe anyone unidentified. she doesn't want to be identified, hence she's a jane doe.
ya, i just can't describe the trench coat yet cuz i don't have a great idea of it yet. i may wann give it some type of significance but i dunno yet so remind me to try and figure that out later.
tell me what of this i should actually try and describe in the story. or should i leave it and let the character describe it a little later. i don't like when you know everything there is to know about a character right away. thanx. ya, i've always been best at dialogue. ya, i wanna right more. 'cept this was one of my stories that i just have a good begining idea and i'm working on the plot. it's gotta be something fantasy - this is me we're talking about - but otherwise i'm kinda open to ideas. thanx. :D