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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: The Sacred Clown Never Cries In Publicdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Phagocyte
    Elite Ratio:    3.44 - 2/5/5
    Words: 262
    Class/Type: Story/I am dead inside
    Total Views: 584
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1618



    Description:
       Rather random, short story, very short, but I wanted to be creative. My English teacher, my new one, is hard, thus, pratice! Noo...

    Anyway, hope you all enjoy and share your views on this writing. Thank you for reading :)


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe Sacred Clown Never Cries In Publicdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Her smile soon vanished into the shadows, like a frightened rabbit, missing the lights of the car.
    The blood dripped down her cranium, down her cheek, pale, blotched from former tears.
    Her hands shook as her optics focused on the blood that stained her hands. It was fresh. It wasn't like a crust of blood, no, it slipped away slowly from her hands, but it still lay in her flesh.
    "No..."
    She looked up, her face weakened, her face in pain. Yet, the person on the floor did not answer her call. He was dead already, face blank with no expression at all crossed upon, no words etched upon his lips.
    "I...did nothing...I...am innocent..." she did whisper, lips quivering, eyes wavring, breath wavering.
    "This... wasn't meant to be!"
    Her scream echoed into the nearby fields as she fell to her knees into sobs, angry sobs, sorrowful sobs...
    Mister Hartley died that night. Maybe he was killed by the hounds of the darkness, which lurk like hungry sharks beneath the moon's watchful eyes. Maybe he was killed by the sitting crows, who bow their heads, as if in knowledge of this death.
    Or maybe it was the woman who knelt down beside him, with his blood on her hands and clothes, with her dagger in his back... In the back of her husband.
    Thus, Blanche Hartley stood to her feet, with sniffled murmurs to herself, because staggering home, crimson inked staining her once pure white soul.
    That relationship, though...killed her already. She was empty, dead...
    That night, she got her revenge.




    Submitted on 2009-09-01 15:50:25     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Nitpicking is my middle name! Actually, it's Jo, but whatever. Lol! Here's what I've got for you, my dear:

    Her smile soon vanished into the shadows, like a frightened rabbit, missing the lights of the car. [How about "a" car? Since you're not giving us any details on a specific car...]

    The blood dripped down her cranium, down her cheek, pale, blotched from former tears. [I've always loved the word cranium...good choice...How about, "down her pale cheek, blotched from former tears?"]

    Her hands shook as her optics focused on the blood that stained her hands. It was fresh.[Optics is a rare word...Good, good. ^_^ And..."It wasn't like a crust of blood--no. (This "--" provides that great pause that you're looking for. Not too long, not too short. Just enough for a mini breath and that dramatic effect. Turn the last part of that sentence into it's own sentence].

    She looked up, her face weakened, [I don't think a face can be "weakened" per se. And maybe pain doesn't just sit on her face. Maybe her face is contorted or twisted into a look of pain. It sounds too used up to just say, "her face in pain."]

    Yet, the person on the floor did not answer her call. [We didn't hear her call. We heard her disbelieving voice, maybe, but she never called. Perhaps you can lengthen the story by giving her a little more dialogue in which she does call].

    He was dead already, face blank with no [without?] expression at all crossed upon [You mixed two different sentences here. I prefer you took out, "crossed upon].

    "no words etched upon his lips." [Unoriginal. Too cliché. How about..."All words were dead upon his still lips?"]

    "I...did nothing...I...am innocent..." she did whisper [Did whisper? What's wrong with "whispered?"]

    lips quivering, eyes wavring [fix spelling], breath wavering.[Her eyes and breath should not both be wavering. Her eyes can be unfocused and her breath wavering or her breath shallow and her eyes blurred. I don't think eyes exactly "waver."]

    Her scream echoed into the nearby fields as she fell to her knees into sobs, [Take out just the first sobs. It's too bland by comparison to angry and sorrowful sobs].
    Mister [Mr.] Hartley died that night. Maybe he was killed by the hounds of the [remove the] darkness, which lurk like hungry sharks [Terrible metaphor. Sharks don't lurk. They watch and wait. They pace and anticipate].

    with her dagger in his back...In the back of her husband. [Try "...in her husband's back." Repeating "in his back" and "in the back" ruins the flow.

    Thus, Blanche Hartley stood [maybe "got" or just "stood] to her feet, with sniffled murmurs to herself [Eh. Sniffled murmurs doesn't seem possible. Try not to use them together like that. You can have them both in the sentence if you wish.].

    because staggering home, crimson inked staining her once pure white [Take out white. When you use pure, the reader knows you mean white].

    That relationship, though...killed her already. She was empty, dead... [What relationship? What are you talking about? Details, my friend, details! Tell me a story! It's always story time. Lol!]

    That night, she got [had achieved?] her revenge.


    Questions: This is like a prologue because you leave the reader hanging. Because you have not or will not add to this work, what's the point, really? It's just a random cliffhanger. But I understand it's just for an English class. Technically, this isn't a short story. It has no conflict or resolution. It doesn't have any main events. Just one...sort of...
    Also, how did Blanche Hartley get her revenge if it was Mrs. Hartley who killed her father? See? Again, you give no events, no details, no reason for this tragedy...A short story is roughly 5,000 words...

    Other than that, I like the dramatic effect in her voice. All the "..." were placed in all the right spots, which is something I tend to have a hard time doing...And I liked that you tried to put in some metaphors to make the reader understand better, but coming up with new, fresh ones is hard work. Think about what you REALLY want to say. What do you want the reader to feel, to know, too understand?

    Hope that helps!

    -mo-
    | Posted on 2009-09-01 00:00:00 | by mojymo | [ Reply to This ]

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

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