Registered: Aug 2000
Location: Myrtle Beach, SC
Posts: 15181

I know I suck as a writer, but...

I was bored on the plane. When I finished it, I felt an immediate urge to revise and rewrite it, and itched for a word processor. When I got back, I typed it out, altering it as I saw fit.

Constructive criticism is welcome. All others fuck off.

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Grimm felt no fear as he entered the cave. Perhaps he should have, but in his mind he could still see his wife and child engulfed in flames, hear their tortured cries for help, and smell the choking stench of smoke and burning flesh. He hesitated slightly as the light from the entrance faded behind him, but not for that reason. All he could think of was that he had been too late. Too late. They were gone now. They were all gone. His inn had burned down around him, a charred ruin. The rest of the town had fared no better. He had searched the town afterwards, and found only burned buildings and smoking corpses. He was the only survivor, saved only by the magical shield he carried even as he ventured further into the lightless depths of the cavern.

He felt the weight of the battle axe strapped to his back. The light from his torch flickered on the stone walls of the tunnel, and he again saw his burning inn. At the first sight of the flames, he had rushed to the wall where the shield had hung since he had bought the inn and settled down. In his younger days he had been a warrior. He'd been happy then, young and strong. He'd believed himself invincible. That is, until he came across the dragon. It had been little more than a hatchling, yet he had barely survived the encounter. He flexed the three remaining fingers of his left hand. A minor wound, and he considered himself fortunate that was all he had lost. That fight had matured him quickly, though. He returned to his small village proudly sporting the wyrmling's head on a pike. With the meager treasure it had managed to hoard, he had built himself an inn, "The Dragon's Head," which had hung over the hearth in the common room. He had settled down, retired his weapons, and married a local beauty. His Lysa. She had been radiant on their wedding night, and their fifteen years had barely aged her. But now…

He had been too late. The flames had taken his family while he was returning with the shield. He had watched his wife and son die in agony, and he had been powerless to help. When he had reached them, they had already been dead. Outside the inn, he had heard a familiar sound, the roar of a dragon. He remembered watching the great beast as it winged its way back to the mountains, to the cave in which he was walking.

He shook off his reverie and focused on the present. He had been walking for what? Minutes? Hours? Time held no meaning for him here, with tons of solid stone hanging just inches over his head. His torch began to die, so he lit a new one. He then plodded on, and his mind once again slipped into the past. To his son, Gregory. He would have been ten years old this summer. He had been strong and handsome, and showed an aptitude for sums that would have been useful for helping around the inn. Unfortunately, life had held other plans.

Suddenly the tunnel opened into a huge cavern. The light from his torch was caught by millions of tiny objects. Coins, he realized. Mountains of gold scattered the floor. And there in the center, curled lazily around a pile of gold larger than his inn had been, it lay. The dragon. The beast that had destroyed his village and murdered his family. A sob escaped his lips, followed by a scream of rage as he marched purposefully toward the sleeping dragon. He pulled the axe off his back and hefted it thoughtfully. The scream hadn't produced so much as the flicker of an eyelid in the dragon. He thought how easy it seemed to just bury the axe in the creature's head. Unfortunately, he realized, it was unlikely to succeed. That would probably only anger the great beast.

Standing less than ten feet from a scaly face larger than his body, Grimm inhaled deeply and bellowed, "Wake up, you overgrown lizard! It's time to die!".

The dragon slowly opened its eyes and brought them round to focus on the cause of the disturbance. It stared with contempt at the graying, middle-aged man standing confidently before him in old, battered armor waving a huge double-bladed axe in its face. It lazily stood itself up, and again Grimm should have felt at least some fear. However, he felt nothing. He had nothing to lose, and therefore had nothing to fear. Still, he knew deep down that he was about to die. This was obviously no hatchling! The dragon was more than fifty feet long and heavily muscled. Its red scales were eerily beautiful as they glittered in the torchlight.

Without hesitation, the beast opened its gigantic jaw and exhaled a blazing inferno. Only his warrior's reflexes saved Grimm as he jerked his shield up in front of him. As the flames hit the shield, an icy blue aura surrounded him, and he felt the temperature drop suddenly. When the flames abated, the old warrior remained unharmed.

The dragon hesitated, used to its flames easily dispatching most challengers. Grimm seized the opportunity to land a blow to the beast's head, severing one of its horns. It screamed in pain, and Grimm pressed his advantage, raining blow after blow upon his enemy. The dragon's tough scales turned most of the attacks, but a few still managed to slip through. Blinded by pain, the dragon wildly whipped its tail around. The tail knocked Grimm's legs out from beneath him, sending him sprawling to the floor with a metallic clatter. His axe landed a few feet away. The dragon recovered quickly, however, and swung its head around to bite at Grimm, its open mouth revealing razor sharp teeth the size of daggers. In the few moments before the strike, Grimm reached up to the vial on a cord around his neck, and smiled. He'd known he could never best this dragon in combat. "I'm coming, Lysa," he said as the gaping maw rushed toward him. Then the jaws snapped shut. He would have his vengeance, however. Even the mightiest dragon can fall prey to poison.


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Groovin' in self-pity!
Graphic Cheeseworks.

[This message has been edited by MstrG (edited 03-20-2001).]

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: Myrtle Beach, SC
Posts: 15181

Errm... just realized it lost all the formatting. Damn. Oh well, the words remain.

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Groovin' in self-pity!
Graphic Cheeseworks.

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: A New England
Posts: 9187

Grimm

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A closed mouth gathers no feet.

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: A New England
Posts: 9187

Actually the writing isn't at all bad, the story however leaves much to be desired.

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A closed mouth gathers no feet.

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: Myrtle Beach, SC
Posts: 15181

I was bored on a plane. What more do you expect? Couldn't think of a name, so I gave him a lame one.

Never claimed it was a good story, just something that's been running around in my head for a little while. Just a thought I needed to get onto paper (into text).

Thanks.

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Groovin' in self-pity!
Graphic Cheeseworks.

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Registered: Oct 2000
Location: MI
Posts: 589

I liked it. Write more.

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Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your beers!

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Registered: Oct 2000
Location: Dumbfucksville!
Posts: 12164

To be a writer means to fail, fail, fail, fail, fail, fail, etc. until you succeed. You can't get to the "succeed" part until you go through the "fail" part. Ask any moron.

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: Beyond Mason-Dixon Line
Posts: 16979

Hey Cheesmeister! You're well aware I enjoy writing, too. I've been doing it for a number of years. During these years, I've become acutely aware that bona fide constructive criticism is rare.

Here are my honest comments:

1) You do not "suck" as a writer. Mechanically, your word usage and construction is superior to at least 95% of the students I teach in undergraduate school.

2) There are a couple of segments in your story that don't really work, or are, at least, a difficult sell. These are:

a. You say that Grimm watched his wife and son "die in agony" and that "he had been powerless to help." You follow this, however, with, "When he had reached them, they had already been dead." This last sentence is a little clumsy. You might try, for example, "By the time he reached them, they were dead". Even then, the reader must presume that Grimm first witnessed his family in agony from afar--this might explain why he could not arrive in time to help them. Even at that, however, the reader must necessarily presume that his family was inside the inn; otherwise, it stands to reason they would not have burned, were they on the outside. The trouble with that is, with the presumption that the family was inside the inn, how could he have seen them dying in agony from afar?

Do you see the problem?

b. Read this again: "A sob escaped his lips, followed by a scream of rage as he marched purposefully toward the sleeping dragon. He pulled the axe off his back and hefted it thoughtfully." Do you see the difficulty here? In the first sentence, you convey a picture of a man becoming overwhelmed by his emotions. Yet, immediately thereafter in the second sentence, we have a man in control, "thoughtfully" hefting his axe.

It is difficult to determine whether Grimm went into the cave with either 1) a suicide mission already in mind; or 2) simple intent to exact revenge by slaying the dragon.

In conclusion, I would have loved to have had even half your writing skills when I was your age. If you truly enjoy writing (and enjoyment is the key thing for me), I certainly would stay after it if I was you.

Thanks for the read. I look forward to hopefully reading more of your creations, my friend. Amen.

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: Myrtle Beach, SC
Posts: 15181

Thanks for the input, and criticism.

Actually, I considered dropping the thoughtfully bit, but I forgot while I was retyping.

I guess I wasn't clear about the inn scene.. I'll have to work on that.

As for the mission, well... he knew it was a suicide mission from the getgo, but he had nothing to lose. I guess I should make that clearer too.

I'll write more as it comes to me. I've got all these little stories in my head just aching to get out, but I can never pin them down.

Thanks again.

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Groovin' in self-pity!
Graphic Cheeseworks.

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Registered: Jul 2000
Location: Beyond Mason-Dixon Line
Posts: 16979

Hey Cheesemeister! You're welcome.

No need to defend yourself. I'm just trying to help you because you asked.

Know this too, my friend--in my opinion, it's far easier being a critic than a creator.

Get those stories out of your head and in print. I'm very much looking forward to them. Amen.

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Registered: Oct 2000
Location: Dumbfucksville!
Posts: 12164

When you were on the plane and writing your story, was the person next to you sneaking looks????

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: Myrtle Beach, SC
Posts: 15181

Oh, I know. It's hard writing.. that's why I only got around to writing this one on the plane, when I had absolutely nothing else to do. I just decided I really wanted it down, so I got it down.

Most of the others are a lot foggier detail-wise, which will make it more difficult to write them. But I'll give it a try. Thanks for the encouragement.

(And I didn't mean to be defensive. Sometimes I come off that way when replying. I really do appreciate the criticism.)

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Groovin' in self-pity!
Graphic Cheeseworks.

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: Myrtle Beach, SC
Posts: 15181

quote:

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Originally posted by GoFuckYourselves!:
When you were on the plane and writing your story, was the person next to you sneaking looks????

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He didn't speak English, so I'm betting not.

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Groovin' in self-pity!
Graphic Cheeseworks.

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Registered: Oct 2000
Location: Dumbfucksville!
Posts: 12164

quote:

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Originally posted by Roshigoth:
He didn't speak English, so I'm betting not.

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