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Posted By: *_* fiery red *_* Jul 25, 2004 - 10:33 am

im stumped and i need help. i guess reading all about everyone else's amazing ideas made me feel bad about mine. i dunno, i guess i just need someone to tell me if the overall ideas in this story are good enough or if it completely bites.

right now i just have the beginning written and i wanna know what real writers think of it. here goes:

She was beautiful and forbidding. She moved with the graceful agility of a large feline as she hid. He was looking for her. The thought of what he'd do to her when he found her, made her blood turn to ice.
Her eyes flashed a fierce, brilliant purple as she peered into the night. She shook her long, grimy, ebony hair from her face as the wind blew her loose curls across her face. Slowly and fluidly she shrunk into the corner of the alley, hidden in the shadows behind the dumpster. Her once solid form seemed to melt into the darkness, the edges blurring and blending. It was what she was best at, she could hide in the smallest spaces, slither out of irons, and become so still that none noticed she was there. She was nigh invisible at times.
She waited now, silent and unseen, listening to the faint whispers of the black velvet night. Softly at first they came, the thumps of her master's boots on the dank, clammy pavement. She clutched her side just remembering what it felt like to have one of those leaden boots slam into her, again and again. As he passed the dumpster behind which she hid, she shrunk slowly back, farther into the shadows, her dark sanctuary.
She held her breath as her master's heavy footsteps died away. Then, cautiously, she emerged from the gloom and climbed the side of the building, using the chunky cobblestones as her precarious foot and hand holds. It was difficult and demanding, but eventually she pulled herself to the top of the building, her arm muscles were screaming and fatigue began to set in. Her stomach growled hungrily, for she'd missed her meager helping of gruel that usually substituted for the evening meal. She paused, tightening her bandage that wrapped around her hand. She'd cut it earlier that week on the glass of her master's window. The window had been broken during a surprise attack from the outraged neighboring magical community. Someone had thrown a stone through the dinning room window and she had been made to clean up the broken glass. Her hand throbbed and she grimaced, clenching it into a fist. She also had a mark on her cheek, the product of her master's whip. It would scar, just another to add to her collection. Her face would have been striking, but her beauty was marred by the bruises and burns and scars that could be found adorning the rest of her body as well.
She gingerly slid a board from the rooftop she was on, spanning across to the roof of the neighboring building. Quickly, she leapt onto it and dashed across, the feline grace once again evident. She used this method to cross the rooftops of the town, all the way to the border. She need only to cross the river and she would be safe. She slid over the side of the roof and quickly down to the ground. She landed on the ground in a crouched position that was reminiscent of a cat. Once again, she tossed her wavy inky hair from her face, and straightened to a standing pose. She smiled briefly to herself and turned, bound for freedom. Instead, she looked right into her master's smirking face.

Aaron Flash sat straight up in bed. He was drenched in a cold sweat, and his bed sheets were wrapped around him, evidence of his uneasy sleep. His dark, chestnut reddish-brown hair was tousled and wild as it softly curled around his ears and neck. His steely greyish-green eyes glittered, and his warm, honey colored tan was flushed. He placed a large, strong hand across his forehead.
The dream had been like no other. The setting was so real, he could still smell the stale air of the alley and he still felt the chilly breezes and the damp, fetid ground and buildings. The girl's face burned in his mind, scarred, bruised, and beaten, the beauty masked beneath the injuries and grime. Her long, black hair, as the bottom half curled in large, loose spirals. Her eyes, bright, vivid, and purple. Her feelings had been so real, the apprehension, the leaping in her heart as she neared her goal, and then the sheer terror as she came face to face with her master. It was no dream, Aaron was sure of it. It had been a foretelling, a prophecy.
Aaron untangled himself from his sheets and grabbed his oil lamp, illuminating his quarters. His roommate and best friend, Darien, woke suddenly and looked at Aaron groggily.
"Whassamatta?" groaned Darien, his words slurred with sleep. His straight blonde hair was wildly disheveled on one side and the top, while it was flattened to his head on the other. His clear blue eyes were bleary and only slits.
"Nothing buddy, I'm going to the bathroom. Be right back." said Aaron, though he needn't have bothered, Darien slumped back over and went straight to sleep without hearing a word of Aaron's explanation.
Aaron padded quietly across the cold stone floor and down the hall, headed to the headmaster's office.

The Lyceum Magi Intelligentsia was a large castle hidden amid the mountains and forests, far from civilization. It took only students who showed a remarkable capacity to mold and bend magic to their will. The teachers were Mages and trained their students to one day achieve such recognition for themselves.
At the precise moment that Aaron woke from his premonition so abruptly, the teachers were gathered in the headmaster's office.
"What are you saying, Trahern?" asked a tall, distinguished looking woman with long golden hair. Her pink gown was plain and made of rough silk.
"DoriAnna, please try to understand. The race of mages is thinning, drastically. Many of our kind are mating with humans to keep from dying out altogether. This means the powers of the children who attend our Lyceum are considerably less and less every generation." answered the grizzled old man who was the headmaster of the institution, Trahern Hanwood.
"But you mentioned the slave trade." insisted the woman, Dorianne Rimrose. A tall, stately man to her left answered for the headmaster. He had square spectacles perched upon his beak-like nose and a salt and pepper beard that matched his wiry hair.
"A mage by the name of Altur has decided that he will gain power by capturing untrained mages before they can reach a school, and he is enslaving them. Thus, our charges are what is left, the bottom of the barrel as some say, the one with little power, talent or grace." At this point, an even older man intervened. His face was naught but a mass of wrinkles and his hair was as white as new fallen snow, what little of it he had left. He was the teacher of the ancient and modern scrolls class.
"Laxa Tachina, the Last Seeress, said that only the team of a certain two young mages could destroy it if the slave trade was ever brought back. They are both of pure blood, strong talent, and Changers. One will be of aristocratic but sinful birth, the other-"
Just then, a knock sounded on the heavy oaken door. The headmaster, who was the closest, opened the door to find Aaron standing there, clad in his pajamas, a pair of loose black pants and an oversized dark green t-shirt with sleeves that were inches too long and three buttons at the top. His hair was unkempt and gave him a slightly disheveled look. He had no shoes on, and his large feet were a bare, honey colored tan.
"Ah, young Flash."
"I apologize for interrupting, but I think I've just had a future-telling."
"A premonition? Yes, they are few and far apart these days. So tell us, young one, what was in this foretelling?"
"A girl, she was running from her master, a man with a whip. He inspired such fear in her that he could not have possibly been her father. She was badly beaten up, and there were numerous scars on her body. She could shrink into and blend into the shadows and was trying to escape a town to get across the river to the other side where she was sure she would be safe. The fear in her was so real, almost tangible. I felt it in her aura. And the terror on her face when he caught her, he was no father."
"No he was not." Interjected the lady called DoriAnna Rimrose. She paused, looking at Aaron as if scrutinizing him. Then, she smiled and nodded, mumbling to herself, "Yes, of course, it makes perfect sense." She looked straight at Aaron, her bright blue green eyes catching his as if magnetically. "Tell me, Aaron, do you have dreams like this often?" She asked politely, her face kind and searching.
"Never like this. My dreams are normally ridiculous, completely unbelievable and never as vivid."
"Would it surprise you if I were to say I've had that fore-telling also?"
"Then it was a foretelling?"
"Yes. Tell me, Aaron, what stood out in her appearance the most?"
"Her eyes, they were so different, a light lavender purple amethyst color. Wait, no. It was her scars. They were everywhere, tainting the beauty of her face and bringing out the anguish and sadness of her soul."
"Spoken like a true Seer."
"Who was the man?"
"Her owner." answered Headmaster Hanwood. His voice was grim and bitter. Such loathing flowed from it that Aaron was shocked. He'd grown up at the Lyceum, the Headmaster was like the father he never had. Never had he heard such a rough and ugly tone in the headmaster's voice. The words hinted to something Aaron didn't want to acknowledge. So he feigned innocence and ignorance.
"Like a pet?"
"Or a slave." The words came, sending a cold chill through Aaron's soul. However, he still denied the existence.
"But. . . but the Ministry outlawed the slave trade."
"Within the boundaries of their realm. Just beyond our borders there is a dark, evil city. The City of Darkness it is called. A renegade mage by the name of Altur has brought the slave trade back, stealing Majid children from the surrounding cities of our realm." Aaron stood as if paralyzed by his shock.
A fly that had been softly buzzing around the room chose that moment to whiz past Aaron's head and alight on the headmaster's grand oaken desk. Swiftly, it grew to human proportions while fluidly changing from the fly form to that of a man. He was semi-handsome, his hair slightly longer than was the popular style, and his eyes black as glittering coal. His nose was very large, dominating most of his face, throwing off the attractiveness of his guise. His skin was dark bronze, almost brown.


oh wow, that was long. thanks for bearing with me if you read the whole thing.

Posted By: Magus Jul 25, 2004 - 10:43 am

It's fundementally very good. I think that it is merely deterent in details. Some of the details and adjetives give off the wrong impression or don't add enough to the story. In many areas I find that it doesn't lack enough details. I think that in the beginning you should describe her more. How is she beautiful? This is what's missing in the beginning. Also you should probably split some of your paragraphs into smaller ones. Like I said, its got the basics it needs, its pretty well done. You just need to critique and modify your details and it should come out just fine.

Posted By: chowder Jul 25, 2004 - 10:47 am

fiery red
Looks good to me. Keep writing and good luck!

Posted By: Queen Ehlana Jul 25, 2004 - 06:15 pm

Just a tip: Try to avoid the words "was" and "were" where possible. If there's anything my 8th grade English teacher taught me, it's that those verbs are amateurish. They're overused when you can easily replace them with more moving words, and they often aren't necessary.

"He was wearing" = "He wore"
"She was beautiful and forbidding" = "Her beauty came with a forbidding disposition."

Posted By: Spiels Aug 02, 2004 - 05:47 am

Try adding more linking words, like "then" "before" "after". It makes the story flow more. Some details are repetative or give off the wrong impression. Good luck and good story though.