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Title Pending; The INKweaver
Topic Started: Feb 18 2008, 09:51 PM (825 Views)
** Death's servant
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Reflection
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Keep in mind while reading that this an exersise in writing the second person.

Lindin I am not offended by critisism, I meerly gave one of many reasons for my use of the second person. This example was subsequently said to contridict itself, and my reply was commented on before the story which offends me.

All I'm saying is that you don't need to critisise an example, it's not called for, nor did I post it for input, I posted it rather to make a point.
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+Linden
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awesomesauce
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Exercise or no, second person is still weird.

Also, I wasn't criticizing the example. I was criticizing second person using direct support from the story.
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** Death's servant
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I know you weren't.
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+Linden
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awesomesauce
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Then what are we in a row about? :wacko:
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** Death's servant
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Im not happy with the others.
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***eboy192
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[Insert witty catchphrase here]
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Sorry I hadn't read this yet I just did; great writing and its very challenging to write in 2nd person...aha except all those people who wrote the choose your own adventure books.
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** Death's servant
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Thank you Eric.
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+Linden
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awesomesauce
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Ah, but with those books you still had a choice. ;)

*done being difficult*
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** Death's servant
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Thanks.
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** Death's servant
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Next chapter, It's in 3rd person now, I'm going to switch off sort of. Any suggestions, corrections (on typos and the like) or compliments and critisism (defend your case if critisism is used. Defend it well!)


Chapter 2
- Christine awoke and looked around her, the shapes around her solidified into the familiar walls of her grey room as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What had happened last night?” she wondered. All that she remembered was a strange feeling somewhat like pain on her cheek, then her eye, and a face. The face was still clear in her mind, golden and translucent like light which has by some paradox found a form.
- Had that really happened? If so what did it mean? What was the being whose face she’d seen above her? All these questions raced through her head, making a terrible mess of any attempt at thought. She resolved finally to merely go and brush her teeth to begin, then to destroy, and conceal her dose as usual, and go from there.
- After going through her morning routine she was slightly calmed, and could think clearly. She wondered to herself how she could be sure if the events of the previous night had been a dream or reality. Still pondering this, she looked idly at the mirror, intending to make sure she had not forgotten anything in her routine. In mirror a slightly altered version of the face she recognized as her own looked quizzically back towards her. The eye on the left side of her face was completely golden, and no pupil, but when she closed her right eye the world was still visible if slightly clearer than she’d ever seen it before. In addition to her golden eye her cheek, between the corner of her mouth and the outer corner of her left eye, now bore a golden scar the shape of a teardrop, almost invisibly on her pale skin.
- “Christine…” her mother’s voice seeped under the bathroom door and into her ears.
- ‘What now?’ she wondered, exasperated. “Yes mother?” she replied, just loud enough to be heard.
- “We are going to see a very important man today.” She said blankly. “The government is giving us the honor of a meeting with Mr. Nachtspeiler. He thinks there is something we might know that will help them root out the resistance. Hurry, we mustn’t keep him waiting.”
- With this they left. They left, two different entities, one a human machine by free will, and one a minority walking towards the one man who wants that minority destroyed over all else. They walked in bland unison to the torrents of rain, blood it seemed to Christine, raining from the heavens. Still she walked on, her face plastered with the tears of nature, falling for her children, enslaved by themselves, tears from justice at her contortion, tears from the lost souls pleading the sleeping people to awaken and look at their world while it bled away its impermanent life, and save it, rain.
- Christine wrapped her coat around her soaking arms and walked behind her mother begging the world to save her. She was sure that Nachtspeiler would recognize her cognoscente, by her eyes. He must know the signs of a person off the dose, those eyes bright with life so unlike the beetle carapace, irises of the enslaved. A black car pulled alongside them and slowly its tinted glass window rolled down, and a face appeared behind. The face spoke in a thick German accent; “Please, will you come with me. You are Christine and Victoria Li are you not?”
- Terrified Christine looked to her mother to answer. “That is us.” Victoria’s flat enigmatic voice said, drowning Christine in her impending doom. Now it was not possible to escape Nachtspeiler’s presences, her discovery. All that could be done was hope, hope for anything, for nothing, for everything; salvation.
*****


Hope you enjoyed it.
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+Linden
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awesomesauce
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Nice continuation. It carries on the same mystic quality the previous chapter had.

I love the eye, how things are clearer when it's closed. You could spy on people who thought you were asleep. :P
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** Death's servant
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Didn't think of that. Good idea though. Thanks for the feedback.
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***eboy192
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very good continuation, and I enjoy your writing style a lot. Sorry about not commenting earlier but I was busy with other stuff =/
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** Death's servant
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*Is taken into extasy by seeing comments*
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Drahcir
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yeah, ive got to say i really like this story. just one thing from this chapter puzzles me, did the mom notice her eye or no...and how. i dunno just seems like a little hole to me.
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