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ravenlife · 08-12-2009, 05:46 PM

Hey guys,

so as mentioned in another thread I'm working on a short story/novella/novel (i really have not decided how long it will be yet). It's the first thing I have written since around 2005, so I am a little rusty (and i wasn't very good the first time around)

I'm not very far into it, and I'm sort of looking for opinions on how its coming along so far, so all comments are welcome good and bad, i wont say what its about yet, other than it will be sort of fantasy/sci-fi, there isnt really much story to go on here.

Thanks in advance

[Thirty]

Prologue

A cool summer breeze drifts across the moonlit courtyard, he crosses the wide space heading for the darkened porch, pebbles crunching under foot. He pauses before the aging door. This place is eerie, not known to him before tonight, yet it feels oddly familiar and somewhat comforting. This is not the reason he pauses, as he has become used to oddly familiar. It is because he knows somehow in his heart that she will be waiting for him. He does not pause out of fear it is because he knows that he will leave the moment his eyes meet hers, whether that is his intention or not. Glancing at the reflection in the darkened glass, that is not his own, he brushes off an almost imperceptible speck of dust from his shirt and turns the cold iron handle.

Stepping into the large open entrance hall is like plunging himself into the frozen waters of the arctic, the warm fragrant summer air replaced with a frigid and almost chemical atmosphere. His breath would be clouds of mist, but he does not breathe.
The sound of glass clinking together falls on his ears, but he has little time to wonder what it may be, for now the echoes of bare footsteps hold his attention. He follows them with his eyes through the walls above.

She steps out onto the landing above the entrance hall, her long dress stirring in the breeze caused by her motion. Her unblemished skin is a pallid moonlight white; it shines against the black silk of her attire. She is slender, tall and other-worldly beautiful, he tears his eyes away from her body and with trepidation moves his gaze towards her face. Long shimmering black hair falls over her shoulders and down the sensual curves of her clavicle, in contrast her high thin eyebrows are so fair they are almost non existent, long black lashes frame her vivid silver eyes. Her eyes which are so loving, so familiar lock onto his own, he tries to speak.

His own helpless cry wakes him...

Chapter 1

Matthew Dean Fry woke naked and shivering in a confusion of bedclothes, pulling them up over his chest he rolled over and made a futile effort to chase sleep and the fading dream. Sunlight fell on him through the thin bedroom curtains. With an exasperated sigh he flung back the covers and stumbled out of bed and towards the door. Remembering that his flat mates were home, he covered himself with a towel that lay on a pile of dirty laundry, being careful to hide the result of his dream. After cleaning up he returned to dress and headed the kitchen for a large cup of coffee. One of of his flat mates, Debbie Wood sat at the kitchen table eating unbranded corn flakes.

"Mornin' Andy, there's coffee in the thing." she said through a mouth full of blandness. Debbie had been in a couple of his classes in high school so she called him Andy. He couldn't remember who had made up the nickname but he had found it amusing, once. There had been a TV show on at the time who's handy man "Handy Andy" made pretty much everything out of MDF and one of his witty young class mates decided that as his initials matched, he would be forever known as Andy.

"Ta Deb, can I bum a fag?" he asked as he poured himself a cup of black syrup from the peculator.

She tossed a pack from the table in his general direction, it hit the wall and landed in a bowl. "Thought you'd packed in." she taunted.

"I have, just the one on a morning perks me up for the day." he lied defensively. Officially it had been 4 weeks since he stopped, unofficially it had lasted only a day but he was very low on funds and couldn't afford the damn things. He was having trouble just keeping up with his share of the rent.

"Suuure, and the ones you had yesterday don't count." she rolled her eyes at him.

08-12-2009, 05:46 PM	#1
ravenlife Connoisseur Posts: 55 Karma: 499658 Join Date: Nov 2008 Device: PRS505	Thirty - WIP - comments wanted Hey guys, so as mentioned in another thread I'm working on a short story/novella/novel (i really have not decided how long it will be yet). It's the first thing I have written since around 2005, so I am a little rusty (and i wasn't very good the first time around) I'm not very far into it, and I'm sort of looking for opinions on how its coming along so far, so all comments are welcome good and bad, i wont say what its about yet, other than it will be sort of fantasy/sci-fi, there isnt really much story to go on here. Thanks in advance [Thirty] Prologue A cool summer breeze drifts across the moonlit courtyard, he crosses the wide space heading for the darkened porch, pebbles crunching under foot. He pauses before the aging door. This place is eerie, not known to him before tonight, yet it feels oddly familiar and somewhat comforting. This is not the reason he pauses, as he has become used to oddly familiar. It is because he knows somehow in his heart that she will be waiting for him. He does not pause out of fear it is because he knows that he will leave the moment his eyes meet hers, whether that is his intention or not. Glancing at the reflection in the darkened glass, that is not his own, he brushes off an almost imperceptible speck of dust from his shirt and turns the cold iron handle. Stepping into the large open entrance hall is like plunging himself into the frozen waters of the arctic, the warm fragrant summer air replaced with a frigid and almost chemical atmosphere. His breath would be clouds of mist, but he does not breathe. The sound of glass clinking together falls on his ears, but he has little time to wonder what it may be, for now the echoes of bare footsteps hold his attention. He follows them with his eyes through the walls above. She steps out onto the landing above the entrance hall, her long dress stirring in the breeze caused by her motion. Her unblemished skin is a pallid moonlight white; it shines against the black silk of her attire. She is slender, tall and other-worldly beautiful, he tears his eyes away from her body and with trepidation moves his gaze towards her face. Long shimmering black hair falls over her shoulders and down the sensual curves of her clavicle, in contrast her high thin eyebrows are so fair they are almost non existent, long black lashes frame her vivid silver eyes. Her eyes which are so loving, so familiar lock onto his own, he tries to speak. His own helpless cry wakes him... Chapter 1 Matthew Dean Fry woke naked and shivering in a confusion of bedclothes, pulling them up over his chest he rolled over and made a futile effort to chase sleep and the fading dream. Sunlight fell on him through the thin bedroom curtains. With an exasperated sigh he flung back the covers and stumbled out of bed and towards the door. Remembering that his flat mates were home, he covered himself with a towel that lay on a pile of dirty laundry, being careful to hide the result of his dream. After cleaning up he returned to dress and headed the kitchen for a large cup of coffee. One of of his flat mates, Debbie Wood sat at the kitchen table eating unbranded corn flakes. "Mornin' Andy, there's coffee in the thing." she said through a mouth full of blandness. Debbie had been in a couple of his classes in high school so she called him Andy. He couldn't remember who had made up the nickname but he had found it amusing, once. There had been a TV show on at the time who's handy man "Handy Andy" made pretty much everything out of MDF and one of his witty young class mates decided that as his initials matched, he would be forever known as Andy. "Ta Deb, can I bum a fag?" he asked as he poured himself a cup of black syrup from the peculator. She tossed a pack from the table in his general direction, it hit the wall and landed in a bowl. "Thought you'd packed in." she taunted. "I have, just the one on a morning perks me up for the day." he lied defensively. Officially it had been 4 weeks since he stopped, unofficially it had lasted only a day but he was very low on funds and couldn't afford the damn things. He was having trouble just keeping up with his share of the rent. "Suuure, and the ones you had yesterday don't count." she rolled her eyes at him. Last edited by ravenlife; 08-14-2009 at 01:00 PM.