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[TD1]

Yep.

[GiglameshDespair]

I'd go for the writing.

[bahihs]

I'd also go for the writing, simply because its the easiest way to measure the skill of the writer.

Its also the most flexible, you can write poetically and abstractly (like Joyce *shivers) or straight to the point (like Hemingway) or with preaching prose (like Steinbeck).

But, that's just me. If you are a genius poet, or the next Shakespeare, by all means pen your poems or plays!

[bahihs]

I'm a little confused as to the format of this thread. Do I have to respond to the prompts that are given? Or can I just post anything for critique (its what I did earlier, but I'm scared that's not what I was supposed to do)?

[GiglameshDespair]

You can use the prompts if you wish or not. Just posting it means it might not get critique, though (I'd also appreciate if someone gave their thoughts on the thing I posted above).

[Arx]

So I got an email from my hopeful course in creative writing. To get in, I must:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Please complete and submit ONE of the following exercises:
(Prose exercise): Please write a complete story based on an event from your own life.
(Poetry exercise): Please write a poem about an everyday, inanimate object (e.g. a bar of soap, a cup, an umbrella).
(Drama exercise): Please write a short scene between two characters who both want different things.

And then go for an interview.

Which one would y'all choose? I've semi made up my mind, but I want to see what the common opinion would be.

I'd write prose, but in my opinion your poetry is better than your prose.
I wouldn't touch the drama with a bargepole, but that's just me.

I'm a little confused as to the format of this thread. Do I have to respond to the prompts that are given? Or can I just post anything for critique (its what I did earlier, but I'm scared that's not what I was supposed to do)?

If you post something at random and I see it, I'll critique it. If you post something in response to a prompt, it will almost certainly be critiqued.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I found her on the street. Nothing surprising there. Since the Screenshock, there had been a lot of orphans. Lot of parents used to leaving their child in front of a television for the day now without a brat, too, but society has a way of letting these problems go unsolved. People prefer the things they’ve made to second hand. Whatever the case, there were a whole lot of children leftwithout a home.

Actually, it wasn’t quite right when I said I found her on the street. Technically, first I found her on the Net. The sprites in my implant flagged her up as a wealthy family’s kid. I was going to kidnap her.

Hey, times were hard. Unless you had a job on the lightpusher ships heading outsystem or in the orbital industries, there’s not all that much wealth sloshing around for people not a shareholder of one of the mega-corporations. I was thinking I’d grab the kid, wipe her brain-chip so she couldn’t be traced, contact her family and arrange a nice sum to be paid to a lunar bank account.
When I found her, though, she was curled up in an alleyway. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days (she hadn’t). I may not be a good man, but I’m not an evil one, and something about the kid tugged my heartstrings. She was pretty obviously going to die soon if I didn’t help.
I felt pretty awkward carrying her back to my place, a grubby apartment in one of the hab-hives in what used to be Birmingham. The steady stream of people took no notice of the pathetic bundle in my arms as I carried her past the lifts to the stairs. I lived on the fifty-eighth floor, nearly half way up. It was a long climb. The lifts had had an ‘out of order’ since the cable for one broke and the lift fell 200 metres. That had been four months ago, and they still weren't fixed. At least I was getting a work out.

I sat the child – Amanda Tulkoviz, I read from her brainchip – down on the worn seat in the kitchen. She hadn't said a word. Not even offered any resistance to a strange man picking her up and carrying her off. My sprites – semi-sentient snippets of code – read deeper into her brainchip.
 Amanda Tulkoviz. Date of Birth: 5/5/2074. Allergies: Thermixan B. A sprite plucked data from the Net about it, some medicine that helped against sleeplessness. I read deeper into her history, my sprites scavenging info from the Net and weaving it together, feeding it to me through my own implant. Reasonably wealthy upbringing in what little remained of the middle class. Good grades at school. Few friends. Screenshock happened, her parents both saw the thing they shouldn’t and died. Was in an orphanage for around two years, was treated from sleeplessness and nightmares, allergy found. Orphange ran out of cash, kids got turfed on the street three months ago.
All the information I received in about two seconds. I placed a bowl in the autochef and waited for it to reheat the slop inside.

“It’s just the gunk Mars sends in food aid, nothing great. But it’s, err, got all the stuff you need. All the minerals and shit. Good for you.” I trailed off. Shit, I had no idea how to talk to kids. I hadn’t even had a pet before. Christ. The autochef dinged and I placed the bowl in front of the kid. She twitched, and for the first time her expression changed from a sort of dull misery. She looked at me, and I nodded as I placed a mostly-clean spoon in front of her.
“Go ahead, kid. All for you.”
After she had finished, her eyes started to droop, worn out by months of unending unhappiness and lulled by the first meal she’d had in days.

It was a year after that she spoke to me for the first time.

It was three years after that she called me ‘Dad’.

You wrote "orphange" instead of "orphanage" once.

Otherwise, I like it. It's quite short, though, and doesn't reveal much about the setting you descibed - just that there's some catastrophe with screens and offworld production.

Edit:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Dirk strode down the hallway from Chame's office, trying to fit all the pieces of the problem together. It was unsettlingly easy.

The basic structure of the multiverse was simple. Well, no, it was mind-contortingly complex. But at the same time, it was simple.

There was a multiverse. This at least, was easy enough to understand; even primitive scientists working without the benefits of manipulators could figure that out. What they didn't discover for a long time was that certain people could bridge universes, which lead into the incomprehensible part, which Dirk only partly understood. It was critical to this problem, though, and he needed to try to work through it.

Universes were separated. The separation was both hardly there and inifitely large. It was like the universes were rooms, but the space in between them was a chasm, that was both a hairline crack and too wide to see across. Most manipulators could see across this crack, or step across it. This crack is the Void. Except it wasn't a crack, it was a forcefield that stretched up out of the chasm as well. Also, it wasn't actually between the rooms, because they wasn't really a boundary between the rooms, because they were infinitely small. But infinitely large.

Dirk sighed, hitting the call button next to the elevator shaft.

Disregarding attempts to visualise the arcane, there was a type of manipulator that didn't cross planes, instead staying in the Void. Appropriately, they were known as voidwalkers. One of these manipulators was the subject of Dirk's current dilemma. Most voidwalkers could only move through the Void, stepping into the Void and back out into this universe. Actually, not even. Most voidwalkers stepped into the Void once and were never seen again, after they died horribly, stepped out into the wrong universe, stepped out into hard vacuum, or died horribly after stepping out into a solid object. What happened to the matter they replaced was another mental torture Dirk couldn't understand, although the philosophers and scientists said something about instant swaps and universal conservation.

The elevator arrived with a pleasant 'ding!' and a swooshing of doors. Dirk walked in, thumbing the button for the ground floor.

Anyway, the focus of the problem at hand was a voidwalker. A voidwalker more powerful than any ever known before. All manipulation - magic, if you would - revolved around transport between planes, which meant travel through the Void. Some voidwalkers could catch people and things moving through the Void. The fastest one such was known simply as "the blood angel".

Dirk stepped out of the elevator as it arrived on the ground floor, the security gates at the door clicking open at his approach. He stepped onto the stepped entryway to the skyscraper and took a deep breath of fresh air.

Where in the multiverse was he supposed to find a voidwalker fast enough to strike against an enemy infinitely far and infinitely close? Especially when that enemy was fast enough to touch the world for a space of milliseconds?

He took the steps two at a time, risking going head over heels on the slippery polished surface. He needed a cup of coffee badly. The ancients had passed on many vices, most of them the relatively harmless ones such as caffeine. Vices were useful things; they allowed for establishments that drew a reliable clientele, which was good for keeping contact. And finding people, when someone like Dirk was doing the looking. It was time to start doing the rounds of the bars.

[Emma]

Uh... Hi,

I've been doing some writing lately and while I've always been interested in writing I've never really gotten the hang of it I suppose. Anyway, if you'd like to read some of what I've done have a look here and critique. Be harsh, very harsh.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Aaron tasted dust, and blood. They mingled in his mouth producing a tangy, metallic paste that stuck to the top of his mouth. It was like this every time, every single damn time! Whenever he came to the small village of Rookstead with his father and brother, he was beaten and bullied by the taller and stronger village boys. He swished the paste around in his mouth with what little saliva was still there.
 
That morning he had awoken with a bad taste, similar to bile, already in his mouth. He had known then that he was going to the village that morning. He had known what awaited him there, the teasing, the name-calling and finally the beating. He supposed that it wasn’t all, the village boy’s fault. They lived a quiet life and the occasional visits, from either farmers living out of the village or storytellers, were the only excitement they had. He just wished they wouldn’t use him as their punching bag.

“Wake up, weakling!” The shouted voice shook him out of his reverie as a pair of huge, roughly calloused hands lifted him up. The hands belonged to Jorge a lackey of the main bully, the ringleader, Stephen. “Still awake Aaron? Maybe I didn’t hit you hard enough.” Stephen was huge, he was easily the tallest, and the strongest of all the boys, both those living on outlying farms and in the village, he enjoyed fighting and his favourite “partner” was Aaron. Aaron on the other hand was not huge, he was small and his skinny frame was pale,s and a face more like his mothers than his fathers was complete with green eyes. The hands pushed him back, away from Stephen and he stumbled slightly. “Prepare yourself!” Stephen shouted as he took a fighting stance.

Aaron just stood still his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. If he had learnt anything from his other beatings it was that resistance just caused more pain. He stood still and heard Stephen approach him. The first punch hit him in the stomach doubling him over and driving him back a few steps. The second hit him in an uppercut below his jaw. He felt his feet lift from the ground and he slammed onto his back dust flying up from his impact and lights flashing before his eyes.

He heard dimly a collective intake of breath from the gathered boys. They had hit him hard before but never this hard. Someone kneeled beside him and he saw through the flashing lights, Stephen. He suddenly felt angry. Angry with the boys, angry with himself but mostly angry with Stephen. He reached out a hand and touched Stephen, a shock passed through him and his vision cleared, his head stopped aching and the sea in his ears subsided. Most importantly however, Stephen was blown away.

Aaron stood up, the boys were quite as if expecting something. He walked over to the limp figure that he recognized as Stephen. As he neared he could hear Stephen breathing quick, shallow breaths as though he was winded. Aaron reached out a hand to help. Stephen’s eyes widened, in… In anger? No it was fear in his eyes. “Get… Get away from me! Freak!” He shouted this as though trying to reassure himself. Aaron turned his back on Stephen, and fled.

“What the…!” the voice of Aaron’s father burst out, an expletive only stopped by the stern gaze of his mother. They were sitting at a table cut from yellow peachwood, a beautiful and strong species of tree. Peachwood of this kind was extremely expensive and his family was only in possession of a table made from it because of a long-forgotten ancestor on Aaron’s mother’s side who had done some favour or other for a noble family and had been given the table as a gift. His father placed his hands around his tanned face and sighed. With his tanned face wrinkled with smile lines framing his brown eyes Aaron’s father was not an unkind man. No, he was not unkind, but he did believe in hard work and, if not exactly harsh, than almost harsh discipline. His mother was of a similar disposition, she believed that nothing was better for boys than good hard work, but she looked nothing like his father. Straight, blonde hair framed her petite oval face; indeed her whole body was petite, and striking green eyes shone from where they rested.

His father began to speak and this time he chose his words more carefully. “What… Were you thinking, Aaron?” He said carefully, lifting his face from it’s resting place in his hands, his barely contained fury evident in his eyes. “I…” Began Aaron his voice shaking for he knew how formidable his parent could be “I was a-angry.” He managed to finish. His father leaned across the table the palms of his hands flat against the table. “I don’t care how angry you were.  Breaking the ribs of the son of the most respected man in the entire village is not allowed under my roof!” The voice saying this had begun as a whisper and had risen in volume as his father had spoken was now a shout. Taking a breath to calm himself and his voice he continued, “I’ve been thinking for a while now and I’ve decided that you need to get an apprenticeship. Don’t look at me that way Moll!” His father shouted again, more than once a day that was unusual for him, and his mother’s unspoken protestations died in her throat. “You need to leave boy, make a life for yourself. Your brother will inherit the land when I…” His voice cracked slightly, “When I-I die, and you will not be able to live here anymore. There was a man in the village today he said that he was a natural philosopher of some kind and that he wanted an apprentice to learn his secrets. He said that he’d be in the village for a few more days but not long. I had thought to talk to you’re mother first but now, now I am decided. Tomorrow morning we will go to the village and there… There you will become an apprentice.”

Dinner that night was quiet. The silence broken only by the clattering of cutlery against plates and the audible sizzling of Aaron’s fathers skin because of his mother’s glare. Aaron went to bed exhausted and nervous, tomorrow he was leaving his family. He didn’t know when he was coming back, even if he was going to come back. He woke early the next morning mostly because his father was shaking him awake. He dressed quickly and packed what little possessions he owned in the grey light of pre-dawn. He clambered up onto the cart that was strapped to the one draft horse that his family owned for farm-work and drawing a cart when they went to town. They rode to town in silence and Aaron’s mouth became dryer and dryer with every foot they rode.

The door to the inn where the man Aaron was to be apprenticed to swung open easily on oiled hinges. “What ar’ya doin ‘ere John?” The shout came from the end of the room originating from a fat man cleaning the bench where food and drink was served. Despite the cool air the man was already sweating and it was this fact more than anything else that made it easy for Aaron to identify the man as the innkeeper. John, Aaron’s father, grinned and walked over to the man. “Getting the boy an apprenticeship Doen.” Doen raised an eyebrow and looked at Aaron, who was sulking just a little. “Goin ta be ‘prenticed to that natur’l philosphir guy ar’ya?”
“Yes sir.” Aaron said still a little sulkily.
“Look sharp den boy. ‘Ere e is now.”
A short man with a mass of grey, tangled hair on his head and a short bunched up beard came down the stairs and walked over to the bar. In what was obviously a cultured voice he began talking, “Thank you for the room, good innkeeper. It was of a high quality and the sheets were cleaner then expected, as a sign of my gratitude please accept this coin.” He reached into his clothes and drew forth a gold coin. Doen’s eyes lit up, gold was an uncommon sight around here. “Thank’ee good sa. A does try me best to keep da inn clean.” Doen performed an awkward bow and took the coin. John cleared his throat audibly and the small man turned to look at him. Aaron’s mouth was now completely dry, was this the man he was to be apprenticed to? A man who gave gold to innkeepers just because he slept in a clean room? Gold was valuable, money was valuable, was this man a fool?

John himself performed a clumsy bow his body unaccustomed to such movements and he began speaking in a halting voice. “Sir… Got a son. That is got a child, who… Apprentice.” The man looked at him strangely for a minute and he coloured. “Um… I’ve got a son who needs and apprenticeship.” He managed to rush this out without embarrassing himself overly much. The small man noticed Aaron for the first time his eyebrows furrowed, as he appeared to think for a minute, and then his face broke into a smile. “I accept” He quickly said, face still smiling. John was stunned at the speed with which things were moving. “Ah… Don’t you want to talk a little first…?” He started then stopped when the man shook his head. “No, no got to keep moving you see.” He turned to Aaron. “Come along boy, we have a long way to go.” He walked out the door and Aaron having no other choice, followed.

They walked for about a half hour by which time the sun had well and truly begun to rise. Sitting down the man Aaron had been apprenticed sat down on a log and began to pull items out of his pack and place them on the ground. “Had breakfast yet boy?” He asked. Still numb with the shock of being so quickly apprenticed to the man, from what he’d heard an apprenticeship usually took hours, at least, to set up, he could only bring himself to shake his head.
“Well boy, speak up.” The man said.
“Uh… No… Sir.”
“Good, I shall cook for two.”
“Um… Sir.”
“The man looked up with bright eyes. “Ferran boy. Master Ferran to you.”
“Um… Master Ferran sir.”
“No need for the sir.” He chuckled “Not as if I’m a knight.”
Aaron took a deep breath. “Master Ferran, what is it that you actually do?”

Ferran stopped his preparations and looked more closely at his new apprentice. “Why boy I am a natural philosopher. More specifically however as I assume you do not know what that entails, I am a magician, a user of magic, who follows a natural path. I use herbs and knowledge of the earth in partnership with magic to heal and create.” Ferran raised an eyebrow at Aaron’s stillness. “Well boy, got something to say?” Aaron didn’t respond, he’d frozen over at the word magic. It had made instant sense, what else could it have been yesterday?

Aaron took another breath and spoke. “Um… Master Ferran, how do you tell if someone has magic?” Ferran started.
“That reminds me actually, hold out your hand lad.” Aaron held out one of his hands as Ferran had asked. “What I’m going to do here, lad, is read your magical signature and power by sending a small jolt of magic between us and seeing how your body reacts.” Ferran said this while he grasped the boy’s smaller hands in both of his. “Are you ready boy?” Aaron could only manage a nod. Ferran closed his eyes and a light blue emanated from where his hands grasped Aaron’s. Aaron felt his hands cool down suddenly and then heat up as the blue light gave way to a white light and, feeling similar to how he had yesterday; he closed his eyes just in time.

When he opened his eyes he saw Ferran standing up and rubbing his back he ran over to where he had fallen. Luckily Ferran had landed on a soft bed of moss that covered dirt whereas if he had landed a few feet to his right on a collection of rocks it would have been quite a different story. Ferran waved him away. “It’s quite alright boy, as soon as I saw the changing light I realised what I had to do.” He looked up with a small frown. “Strong reaction though boy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen an non-magician with quite as much power before.” Ferran walked back to where he had abandoned breakfast while rubbing his hands. “I’m sure you have many questions lad, those however can wait for breakfast. You do like eggs?”

Breakfast was soon ready, Ferran appeared to move very quickly when food was involved and now that Aaron thought about it he did seem to have a bit of a… Potbelly. “Well lad,” He said over his plate of steaming hot eggs and bacon. “Eat up, we won’t eat like this every day if we intend to reach our destination, and while you eat talk, I’ll answer any questions you have if I can.” Aaron placed a stripper of bacon into his mouth and thought while chewing, he wanted to know of a lot of things and wasn’t sure where to start. When he swallowed he had decided. “What is magic?” Now it was Ferran’s and he too ate while he thought.
“Good question boy, a difficult one to answer as well.” He took a breath, inhaling an egg in the process. “From what we, magicians, can gather magic is a force similar to the wind in the air and the fires in our hearths. Like these forces magic can be harnessed, like the sails on our ships we can create tools that capture magic and direct it, however, with magic humans can also act as the tool. Most humans have very little power with magic and cannot direct it to any large degree, but some, like you or me, have a natural talent and can draw upon large amounts of the magic in the surroundings and direct it to whatever purpose suits us.”

Ferran stopped and ate a few more pieces of bacon washing them down with a swig from his canteen. “I believe that about sums up magic on a basic level. Anymore questions?” Aaron thought about his next move to not arouse suspicion about what he had done to Stephen he would have to broach this carefully. “Uh, could say, magic happen… Accidentally?” Ferran looked at him eyes slightly quizzical. “Well, yes, in fact it is quite common. When ambient magic builds up for one reason or another it looks for the most powerful magic user in the area and…” Ferran stopped and stared at him. “Would I be correct boy in assuming that this is what happened to the village headsman’s boy?” Aaron gulped. Apparently he hadn’t been subtle enough. “Maybe… Yes, but it was an accident.”
“Never mind that lad, accidents happen. Interesting though, you must be very powerful for ambient magic to gather around you when you haven’t been trained…” Ferran stood and stretched his back. “Well lad, if we want to reach the destination I have in mind we should start walking again soon. You are an apprentice however and that means that you have to clean the dishes.” Aaron groaned.

Oh! I almost forgot what is your view on fanfiction?

[hops]

Fanfiction is alright when it is used to actually add to the story. Too many people use fanfictions as an excuse to shove in their Mary Sue OCs.

[Arx]

Uh... Hi,

I've been doing some writing lately and while I've always been interested in writing I've never really gotten the hang of it I suppose. Anyway, if you'd like to read some of what I've done have a look here and critique. Be harsh, very harsh.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Aaron tasted dust, and blood. They mingled in his mouth producing a tangy, metallic paste that stuck to the top of his mouth. It was like this every time, every single damn time! Whenever he came to the small village of Rookstead with his father and brother, he was beaten and bullied by the taller and stronger village boys. He swished the paste around in his mouth with what little saliva was still there.
 
That morning he had awoken with a bad taste, similar to bile, already in his mouth. He had known then that he was going to the village that morning. He had known what awaited him there, the teasing, the name-calling and finally the beating. He supposed that it wasn’t all, the village boy’s fault. They lived a quiet life and the occasional visits, from either farmers living out of the village or storytellers, were the only excitement they had. He just wished they wouldn’t use him as their punching bag.

“Wake up, weakling!” The shouted voice shook him out of his reverie as a pair of huge, roughly calloused hands lifted him up. The hands belonged to Jorge a lackey of the main bully, the ringleader, Stephen. “Still awake Aaron? Maybe I didn’t hit you hard enough.” Stephen was huge, he was easily the tallest, and the strongest of all the boys, both those living on outlying farms and in the village, he enjoyed fighting and his favourite “partner” was Aaron. Aaron on the other hand was not huge, he was small and his skinny frame was pale,s and a face more like his mothers than his fathers was complete with green eyes. The hands pushed him back, away from Stephen and he stumbled slightly. “Prepare yourself!” Stephen shouted as he took a fighting stance.

Aaron just stood still his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. If he had learnt anything from his other beatings it was that resistance just caused more pain. He stood still and heard Stephen approach him. The first punch hit him in the stomach doubling him over and driving him back a few steps. The second hit him in an uppercut below his jaw. He felt his feet lift from the ground and he slammed onto his back dust flying up from his impact and lights flashing before his eyes.

He heard dimly a collective intake of breath from the gathered boys. They had hit him hard before but never this hard. Someone kneeled beside him and he saw through the flashing lights, Stephen. He suddenly felt angry. Angry with the boys, angry with himself but mostly angry with Stephen. He reached out a hand and touched Stephen, a shock passed through him and his vision cleared, his head stopped aching and the sea in his ears subsided. Most importantly however, Stephen was blown away.

Aaron stood up, the boys were quite as if expecting something. He walked over to the limp figure that he recognized as Stephen. As he neared he could hear Stephen breathing quick, shallow breaths as though he was winded. Aaron reached out a hand to help. Stephen’s eyes widened, in… In anger? No it was fear in his eyes. “Get… Get away from me! Freak!” He shouted this as though trying to reassure himself. Aaron turned his back on Stephen, and fled.

“What the…!” the voice of Aaron’s father burst out, an expletive only stopped by the stern gaze of his mother. They were sitting at a table cut from yellow peachwood, a beautiful and strong species of tree. Peachwood of this kind was extremely expensive and his family was only in possession of a table made from it because of a long-forgotten ancestor on Aaron’s mother’s side who had done some favour or other for a noble family and had been given the table as a gift. His father placed his hands around his tanned face and sighed. With his tanned face wrinkled with smile lines framing his brown eyes Aaron’s father was not an unkind man. No, he was not unkind, but he did believe in hard work and, if not exactly harsh, than almost harsh discipline. His mother was of a similar disposition, she believed that nothing was better for boys than good hard work, but she looked nothing like his father. Straight, blonde hair framed her petite oval face; indeed her whole body was petite, and striking green eyes shone from where they rested.

His father began to speak and this time he chose his words more carefully. “What… Were you thinking, Aaron?” He said carefully, lifting his face from it’s resting place in his hands, his barely contained fury evident in his eyes. “I…” Began Aaron his voice shaking for he knew how formidable his parent could be “I was a-angry.” He managed to finish. His father leaned across the table the palms of his hands flat against the table. “I don’t care how angry you were.  Breaking the ribs of the son of the most respected man in the entire village is not allowed under my roof!” The voice saying this had begun as a whisper and had risen in volume as his father had spoken was now a shout. Taking a breath to calm himself and his voice he continued, “I’ve been thinking for a while now and I’ve decided that you need to get an apprenticeship. Don’t look at me that way Moll!” His father shouted again, more than once a day that was unusual for him, and his mother’s unspoken protestations died in her throat. “You need to leave boy, make a life for yourself. Your brother will inherit the land when I…” His voice cracked slightly, “When I-I die, and you will not be able to live here anymore. There was a man in the village today he said that he was a natural philosopher of some kind and that he wanted an apprentice to learn his secrets. He said that he’d be in the village for a few more days but not long. I had thought to talk to you’re mother first but now, now I am decided. Tomorrow morning we will go to the village and there… There you will become an apprentice.”

Dinner that night was quiet. The silence broken only by the clattering of cutlery against plates and the audible sizzling of Aaron’s fathers skin because of his mother’s glare. Aaron went to bed exhausted and nervous, tomorrow he was leaving his family. He didn’t know when he was coming back, even if he was going to come back. He woke early the next morning mostly because his father was shaking him awake. He dressed quickly and packed what little possessions he owned in the grey light of pre-dawn. He clambered up onto the cart that was strapped to the one draft horse that his family owned for farm-work and drawing a cart when they went to town. They rode to town in silence and Aaron’s mouth became dryer and dryer with every foot they rode.

The door to the inn where the man Aaron was to be apprenticed to swung open easily on oiled hinges. “What ar’ya doin ‘ere John?” The shout came from the end of the room originating from a fat man cleaning the bench where food and drink was served. Despite the cool air the man was already sweating and it was this fact more than anything else that made it easy for Aaron to identify the man as the innkeeper. John, Aaron’s father, grinned and walked over to the man. “Getting the boy an apprenticeship Doen.” Doen raised an eyebrow and looked at Aaron, who was sulking just a little. “Goin ta be ‘prenticed to that natur’l philosphir guy ar’ya?”
“Yes sir.” Aaron said still a little sulkily.
“Look sharp den boy. ‘Ere e is now.”
A short man with a mass of grey, tangled hair on his head and a short bunched up beard came down the stairs and walked over to the bar. In what was obviously a cultured voice he began talking, “Thank you for the room, good innkeeper. It was of a high quality and the sheets were cleaner then expected, as a sign of my gratitude please accept this coin.” He reached into his clothes and drew forth a gold coin. Doen’s eyes lit up, gold was an uncommon sight around here. “Thank’ee good sa. A does try me best to keep da inn clean.” Doen performed an awkward bow and took the coin. John cleared his throat audibly and the small man turned to look at him. Aaron’s mouth was now completely dry, was this the man he was to be apprenticed to? A man who gave gold to innkeepers just because he slept in a clean room? Gold was valuable, money was valuable, was this man a fool?

John himself performed a clumsy bow his body unaccustomed to such movements and he began speaking in a halting voice. “Sir… Got a son. That is got a child, who… Apprentice.” The man looked at him strangely for a minute and he coloured. “Um… I’ve got a son who needs and apprenticeship.” He managed to rush this out without embarrassing himself overly much. The small man noticed Aaron for the first time his eyebrows furrowed, as he appeared to think for a minute, and then his face broke into a smile. “I accept” He quickly said, face still smiling. John was stunned at the speed with which things were moving. “Ah… Don’t you want to talk a little first…?” He started then stopped when the man shook his head. “No, no got to keep moving you see.” He turned to Aaron. “Come along boy, we have a long way to go.” He walked out the door and Aaron having no other choice, followed.

They walked for about a half hour by which time the sun had well and truly begun to rise. Sitting down the man Aaron had been apprenticed sat down on a log and began to pull items out of his pack and place them on the ground. “Had breakfast yet boy?” He asked. Still numb with the shock of being so quickly apprenticed to the man, from what he’d heard an apprenticeship usually took hours, at least, to set up, he could only bring himself to shake his head.
“Well boy, speak up.” The man said.
“Uh… No… Sir.”
“Good, I shall cook for two.”
“Um… Sir.”
“The man looked up with bright eyes. “Ferran boy. Master Ferran to you.”
“Um… Master Ferran sir.”
“No need for the sir.” He chuckled “Not as if I’m a knight.”
Aaron took a deep breath. “Master Ferran, what is it that you actually do?”

Ferran stopped his preparations and looked more closely at his new apprentice. “Why boy I am a natural philosopher. More specifically however as I assume you do not know what that entails, I am a magician, a user of magic, who follows a natural path. I use herbs and knowledge of the earth in partnership with magic to heal and create.” Ferran raised an eyebrow at Aaron’s stillness. “Well boy, got something to say?” Aaron didn’t respond, he’d frozen over at the word magic. It had made instant sense, what else could it have been yesterday?

Aaron took another breath and spoke. “Um… Master Ferran, how do you tell if someone has magic?” Ferran started.
“That reminds me actually, hold out your hand lad.” Aaron held out one of his hands as Ferran had asked. “What I’m going to do here, lad, is read your magical signature and power by sending a small jolt of magic between us and seeing how your body reacts.” Ferran said this while he grasped the boy’s smaller hands in both of his. “Are you ready boy?” Aaron could only manage a nod. Ferran closed his eyes and a light blue emanated from where his hands grasped Aaron’s. Aaron felt his hands cool down suddenly and then heat up as the blue light gave way to a white light and, feeling similar to how he had yesterday; he closed his eyes just in time.

When he opened his eyes he saw Ferran standing up and rubbing his back he ran over to where he had fallen. Luckily Ferran had landed on a soft bed of moss that covered dirt whereas if he had landed a few feet to his right on a collection of rocks it would have been quite a different story. Ferran waved him away. “It’s quite alright boy, as soon as I saw the changing light I realised what I had to do.” He looked up with a small frown. “Strong reaction though boy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen an non-magician with quite as much power before.” Ferran walked back to where he had abandoned breakfast while rubbing his hands. “I’m sure you have many questions lad, those however can wait for breakfast. You do like eggs?”

Breakfast was soon ready, Ferran appeared to move very quickly when food was involved and now that Aaron thought about it he did seem to have a bit of a… Potbelly. “Well lad,” He said over his plate of steaming hot eggs and bacon. “Eat up, we won’t eat like this every day if we intend to reach our destination, and while you eat talk, I’ll answer any questions you have if I can.” Aaron placed a stripper of bacon into his mouth and thought while chewing, he wanted to know of a lot of things and wasn’t sure where to start. When he swallowed he had decided. “What is magic?” Now it was Ferran’s and he too ate while he thought.
“Good question boy, a difficult one to answer as well.” He took a breath, inhaling an egg in the process. “From what we, magicians, can gather magic is a force similar to the wind in the air and the fires in our hearths. Like these forces magic can be harnessed, like the sails on our ships we can create tools that capture magic and direct it, however, with magic humans can also act as the tool. Most humans have very little power with magic and cannot direct it to any large degree, but some, like you or me, have a natural talent and can draw upon large amounts of the magic in the surroundings and direct it to whatever purpose suits us.”

Ferran stopped and ate a few more pieces of bacon washing them down with a swig from his canteen. “I believe that about sums up magic on a basic level. Anymore questions?” Aaron thought about his next move to not arouse suspicion about what he had done to Stephen he would have to broach this carefully. “Uh, could say, magic happen… Accidentally?” Ferran looked at him eyes slightly quizzical. “Well, yes, in fact it is quite common. When ambient magic builds up for one reason or another it looks for the most powerful magic user in the area and…” Ferran stopped and stared at him. “Would I be correct boy in assuming that this is what happened to the village headsman’s boy?” Aaron gulped. Apparently he hadn’t been subtle enough. “Maybe… Yes, but it was an accident.”
“Never mind that lad, accidents happen. Interesting though, you must be very powerful for ambient magic to gather around you when you haven’t been trained…” Ferran stood and stretched his back. “Well lad, if we want to reach the destination I have in mind we should start walking again soon. You are an apprentice however and that means that you have to clean the dishes.” Aaron groaned.

Oh! I almost forgot what is your view on fanfiction?

First, I like well-written fanfiction that doesn't alter the events of canon. It's a way to fill the gaping hole left in my soul when I finish something and know I will never get to have that particular experience again.

Second, your story.

* Arx cracks knuckles.

In dialogue, write each speaker's parts on a new line.

There are a number of minor grammatical errors and typos in your story. Things like "than" instead of "then", "quite" instead of "quiet". A couple of passes after writing it should clean up most of those, though, so no worries.

Your flow is the most glaring problem. It feels like everything is happening in one contiguous sequence, right on top of each other. That's partly related to not having the dialogue spaced out, though.

What's the peach wood table got to do with anything? It feels like unnecessary information that was just wedged in.

I liked the innkeeper's accent.

Your plotline is, unfortunately, fairly clichéd. I'm not sure how to redeem that.



There you go. That's by no means everything, but it's a start.
Keep reading, keep writing, keep reading.

[Urist McScoopbeard]

A couple of things.

First of all, and I think i'm probably guilty of this too, two words thrown together to create a new word usually results in a cheese-sounding fictional vocabulary. You're guys' opinions may be different, but I STRONGLY advocate either using portmanteaus, combining words based on their roots, or really just any other way than just sliding them next to each other.

Secondly, to just get some opinions here. If you ended up reading what I was posting did you like it? I get the sense that you fellows find it rather dispassionate. If not, would you continue reading?

Of course, in asking for a "review" of sorts, I'll leave one in return:

Uh... Hi,

I've been doing some writing lately and while I've always been interested in writing I've never really gotten the hang of it I suppose. Anyway, if you'd like to read some of what I've done have a look here and critique. Be harsh, very harsh.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Aaron tasted dust, and blood. They mingled in his mouth producing a tangy, metallic paste that stuck to the top of his mouth. It was like this every time, every single damn time! Whenever he came to the small village of Rookstead with his father and brother, he was beaten and bullied by the taller and stronger village boys. He swished the paste around in his mouth with what little saliva was still there.
 
That morning he had awoken with a bad taste, similar to bile, already in his mouth. He had known then that he was going to the village that morning. He had known what awaited him there, the teasing, the name-calling and finally the beating. He supposed that it wasn’t all, the village boy’s fault. They lived a quiet life and the occasional visits, from either farmers living out of the village or storytellers, were the only excitement they had. He just wished they wouldn’t use him as their punching bag.

“Wake up, weakling!” The shouted voice shook him out of his reverie as a pair of huge, roughly calloused hands lifted him up. The hands belonged to Jorge a lackey of the main bully, the ringleader, Stephen. “Still awake Aaron? Maybe I didn’t hit you hard enough.” Stephen was huge, he was easily the tallest, and the strongest of all the boys, both those living on outlying farms and in the village, he enjoyed fighting and his favourite “partner” was Aaron. Aaron on the other hand was not huge, he was small and his skinny frame was pale,s and a face more like his mothers than his fathers was complete with green eyes. The hands pushed him back, away from Stephen and he stumbled slightly. “Prepare yourself!” Stephen shouted as he took a fighting stance.

Aaron just stood still his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. If he had learnt anything from his other beatings it was that resistance just caused more pain. He stood still and heard Stephen approach him. The first punch hit him in the stomach doubling him over and driving him back a few steps. The second hit him in an uppercut below his jaw. He felt his feet lift from the ground and he slammed onto his back dust flying up from his impact and lights flashing before his eyes.

He heard dimly a collective intake of breath from the gathered boys. They had hit him hard before but never this hard. Someone kneeled beside him and he saw through the flashing lights, Stephen. He suddenly felt angry. Angry with the boys, angry with himself but mostly angry with Stephen. He reached out a hand and touched Stephen, a shock passed through him and his vision cleared, his head stopped aching and the sea in his ears subsided. Most importantly however, Stephen was blown away.

Aaron stood up, the boys were quite as if expecting something. He walked over to the limp figure that he recognized as Stephen. As he neared he could hear Stephen breathing quick, shallow breaths as though he was winded. Aaron reached out a hand to help. Stephen’s eyes widened, in… In anger? No it was fear in his eyes. “Get… Get away from me! Freak!” He shouted this as though trying to reassure himself. Aaron turned his back on Stephen, and fled.

“What the…!” the voice of Aaron’s father burst out, an expletive only stopped by the stern gaze of his mother. They were sitting at a table cut from yellow peachwood, a beautiful and strong species of tree. Peachwood of this kind was extremely expensive and his family was only in possession of a table made from it because of a long-forgotten ancestor on Aaron’s mother’s side who had done some favour or other for a noble family and had been given the table as a gift. His father placed his hands around his tanned face and sighed. With his tanned face wrinkled with smile lines framing his brown eyes Aaron’s father was not an unkind man. No, he was not unkind, but he did believe in hard work and, if not exactly harsh, than almost harsh discipline. His mother was of a similar disposition, she believed that nothing was better for boys than good hard work, but she looked nothing like his father. Straight, blonde hair framed her petite oval face; indeed her whole body was petite, and striking green eyes shone from where they rested.

His father began to speak and this time he chose his words more carefully. “What… Were you thinking, Aaron?” He said carefully, lifting his face from it’s resting place in his hands, his barely contained fury evident in his eyes. “I…” Began Aaron his voice shaking for he knew how formidable his parent could be “I was a-angry.” He managed to finish. His father leaned across the table the palms of his hands flat against the table. “I don’t care how angry you were.  Breaking the ribs of the son of the most respected man in the entire village is not allowed under my roof!” The voice saying this had begun as a whisper and had risen in volume as his father had spoken was now a shout. Taking a breath to calm himself and his voice he continued, “I’ve been thinking for a while now and I’ve decided that you need to get an apprenticeship. Don’t look at me that way Moll!” His father shouted again, more than once a day that was unusual for him, and his mother’s unspoken protestations died in her throat. “You need to leave boy, make a life for yourself. Your brother will inherit the land when I…” His voice cracked slightly, “When I-I die, and you will not be able to live here anymore. There was a man in the village today he said that he was a natural philosopher of some kind and that he wanted an apprentice to learn his secrets. He said that he’d be in the village for a few more days but not long. I had thought to talk to you’re mother first but now, now I am decided. Tomorrow morning we will go to the village and there… There you will become an apprentice.”

Dinner that night was quiet. The silence broken only by the clattering of cutlery against plates and the audible sizzling of Aaron’s fathers skin because of his mother’s glare. Aaron went to bed exhausted and nervous, tomorrow he was leaving his family. He didn’t know when he was coming back, even if he was going to come back. He woke early the next morning mostly because his father was shaking him awake. He dressed quickly and packed what little possessions he owned in the grey light of pre-dawn. He clambered up onto the cart that was strapped to the one draft horse that his family owned for farm-work and drawing a cart when they went to town. They rode to town in silence and Aaron’s mouth became dryer and dryer with every foot they rode.

The door to the inn where the man Aaron was to be apprenticed to swung open easily on oiled hinges. “What ar’ya doin ‘ere John?” The shout came from the end of the room originating from a fat man cleaning the bench where food and drink was served. Despite the cool air the man was already sweating and it was this fact more than anything else that made it easy for Aaron to identify the man as the innkeeper. John, Aaron’s father, grinned and walked over to the man. “Getting the boy an apprenticeship Doen.” Doen raised an eyebrow and looked at Aaron, who was sulking just a little. “Goin ta be ‘prenticed to that natur’l philosphir guy ar’ya?”
“Yes sir.” Aaron said still a little sulkily.
“Look sharp den boy. ‘Ere e is now.”
A short man with a mass of grey, tangled hair on his head and a short bunched up beard came down the stairs and walked over to the bar. In what was obviously a cultured voice he began talking, “Thank you for the room, good innkeeper. It was of a high quality and the sheets were cleaner then expected, as a sign of my gratitude please accept this coin.” He reached into his clothes and drew forth a gold coin. Doen’s eyes lit up, gold was an uncommon sight around here. “Thank’ee good sa. A does try me best to keep da inn clean.” Doen performed an awkward bow and took the coin. John cleared his throat audibly and the small man turned to look at him. Aaron’s mouth was now completely dry, was this the man he was to be apprenticed to? A man who gave gold to innkeepers just because he slept in a clean room? Gold was valuable, money was valuable, was this man a fool?

John himself performed a clumsy bow his body unaccustomed to such movements and he began speaking in a halting voice. “Sir… Got a son. That is got a child, who… Apprentice.” The man looked at him strangely for a minute and he coloured. “Um… I’ve got a son who needs and apprenticeship.” He managed to rush this out without embarrassing himself overly much. The small man noticed Aaron for the first time his eyebrows furrowed, as he appeared to think for a minute, and then his face broke into a smile. “I accept” He quickly said, face still smiling. John was stunned at the speed with which things were moving. “Ah… Don’t you want to talk a little first…?” He started then stopped when the man shook his head. “No, no got to keep moving you see.” He turned to Aaron. “Come along boy, we have a long way to go.” He walked out the door and Aaron having no other choice, followed.

They walked for about a half hour by which time the sun had well and truly begun to rise. Sitting down the man Aaron had been apprenticed sat down on a log and began to pull items out of his pack and place them on the ground. “Had breakfast yet boy?” He asked. Still numb with the shock of being so quickly apprenticed to the man, from what he’d heard an apprenticeship usually took hours, at least, to set up, he could only bring himself to shake his head.
“Well boy, speak up.” The man said.
“Uh… No… Sir.”
“Good, I shall cook for two.”
“Um… Sir.”
“The man looked up with bright eyes. “Ferran boy. Master Ferran to you.”
“Um… Master Ferran sir.”
“No need for the sir.” He chuckled “Not as if I’m a knight.”
Aaron took a deep breath. “Master Ferran, what is it that you actually do?”

Ferran stopped his preparations and looked more closely at his new apprentice. “Why boy I am a natural philosopher. More specifically however as I assume you do not know what that entails, I am a magician, a user of magic, who follows a natural path. I use herbs and knowledge of the earth in partnership with magic to heal and create.” Ferran raised an eyebrow at Aaron’s stillness. “Well boy, got something to say?” Aaron didn’t respond, he’d frozen over at the word magic. It had made instant sense, what else could it have been yesterday?

Aaron took another breath and spoke. “Um… Master Ferran, how do you tell if someone has magic?” Ferran started.
“That reminds me actually, hold out your hand lad.” Aaron held out one of his hands as Ferran had asked. “What I’m going to do here, lad, is read your magical signature and power by sending a small jolt of magic between us and seeing how your body reacts.” Ferran said this while he grasped the boy’s smaller hands in both of his. “Are you ready boy?” Aaron could only manage a nod. Ferran closed his eyes and a light blue emanated from where his hands grasped Aaron’s. Aaron felt his hands cool down suddenly and then heat up as the blue light gave way to a white light and, feeling similar to how he had yesterday; he closed his eyes just in time.

When he opened his eyes he saw Ferran standing up and rubbing his back he ran over to where he had fallen. Luckily Ferran had landed on a soft bed of moss that covered dirt whereas if he had landed a few feet to his right on a collection of rocks it would have been quite a different story. Ferran waved him away. “It’s quite alright boy, as soon as I saw the changing light I realised what I had to do.” He looked up with a small frown. “Strong reaction though boy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen an non-magician with quite as much power before.” Ferran walked back to where he had abandoned breakfast while rubbing his hands. “I’m sure you have many questions lad, those however can wait for breakfast. You do like eggs?”

Breakfast was soon ready, Ferran appeared to move very quickly when food was involved and now that Aaron thought about it he did seem to have a bit of a… Potbelly. “Well lad,” He said over his plate of steaming hot eggs and bacon. “Eat up, we won’t eat like this every day if we intend to reach our destination, and while you eat talk, I’ll answer any questions you have if I can.” Aaron placed a stripper of bacon into his mouth and thought while chewing, he wanted to know of a lot of things and wasn’t sure where to start. When he swallowed he had decided. “What is magic?” Now it was Ferran’s and he too ate while he thought.
“Good question boy, a difficult one to answer as well.” He took a breath, inhaling an egg in the process. “From what we, magicians, can gather magic is a force similar to the wind in the air and the fires in our hearths. Like these forces magic can be harnessed, like the sails on our ships we can create tools that capture magic and direct it, however, with magic humans can also act as the tool. Most humans have very little power with magic and cannot direct it to any large degree, but some, like you or me, have a natural talent and can draw upon large amounts of the magic in the surroundings and direct it to whatever purpose suits us.”

Ferran stopped and ate a few more pieces of bacon washing them down with a swig from his canteen. “I believe that about sums up magic on a basic level. Anymore questions?” Aaron thought about his next move to not arouse suspicion about what he had done to Stephen he would have to broach this carefully. “Uh, could say, magic happen… Accidentally?” Ferran looked at him eyes slightly quizzical. “Well, yes, in fact it is quite common. When ambient magic builds up for one reason or another it looks for the most powerful magic user in the area and…” Ferran stopped and stared at him. “Would I be correct boy in assuming that this is what happened to the village headsman’s boy?” Aaron gulped. Apparently he hadn’t been subtle enough. “Maybe… Yes, but it was an accident.”
“Never mind that lad, accidents happen. Interesting though, you must be very powerful for ambient magic to gather around you when you haven’t been trained…” Ferran stood and stretched his back. “Well lad, if we want to reach the destination I have in mind we should start walking again soon. You are an apprentice however and that means that you have to clean the dishes.” Aaron groaned.

Oh! I almost forgot what is your view on fanfiction?

Firstly, in a very general sense, i'm against fanfiction. There are times when I don't mind it (this, presumably, being one, because I have no connection to its universe), but generally fanfiction is just more-of-the-same. I don't want to read an extremely similar story with similar characters doing similar things in the same universe. I find fan fiction okay when it adds to the atmosphere and helps you imagine the larger world... ESPECIALLY when it doesn't mention the main/side/tertiary characters of the canon too much/at all. (but when does that ever happen?)

Anyways, review stuff:

As a reader, I'm drawn in initially, but like Arx said, "Your plotline is, unfortunately, fairly clichéd." However, if that's what you like who am I to judge? The REAL problem I think lies in the pace of the story. It's fast. It's Barry Allen fast.

First of all, give us more background. I want to know EVERYTHING about this village, even things I didn't want to know about it. Then, develop this whole "bullied" thing a bit. Make me hate this Stephen fellow. Ya know, character development. Same goes for the rest of the non-POV characters, and especially Aaron's family. Aaron himself is at the same level of "needing more describing", but being the POV main character, you have a lot of time to explore his background/character, so it's OKAY not to give it all up at the get go.

Dialogue. Besides what Arx said, I like it. It might be cliche, but for the most part it's good. The few things that stand out are it's halting nature (god so many commas), and the sometimes awkward phrasing (most noticeable in Farren's lines).

To sum it up, it's fine, but it needs work. Despite the Cliches and the writing-side problems, if you keep at it it can be great. Of course, it's not without it's good parts: The way you describe magic is pretty good, and gives you a good indication of what it means in that world to be a magic user. Also, Ferran is a good character. (And also the stuff Arx said)

[WillowLuman]

You know how ideas always seem to come as you're lying in bed, but then you go to sleep and never do anything with them? Well for once in far too long I say screw sleep, I'm writing these down. These are random and disorganized, pseudo-poetry, but maybe they're worth something.

Spoiler: love (click to show/hide)

I think I am in love with the world
At times I forget
I stress and complain
But am reminded by some small miracle
On the border of sleep
Or of daydreams
Or while walking maybe
These thoughts float into my mind
Beautiful thoughts. Yet they sink down again
I fail to scoop them from the water
And set them on the side of the pool for others to see
But if they come to me, why not others?
What beautiful thoughts lie in their heads, if only the world could see?
I want to see. Inside every skull
A world as rich as outside, comingling through eyes and ears
and words and works
Even if they do not all know it.

Spoiler: father (click to show/hide)

I saw the face of my young cousin
Grown lined beyond his years since I'd last seen him
Far too long ago.
In his eyes, on his shoulders I saw a weight
We'd all heard the stories but even if not
I think I could have imagined it
He had never had a joyous face
But now all trace of smiles were gone
Until the one we'd all heard about came
And he held his daughter in his arms

[Emma]

Thanks Urist McScoopbeard and Arx for looking at the piece.

A couple of things.

First of all, and I think i'm probably guilty of this too, two words thrown together to create a new word usually results in a cheese-sounding fictional vocabulary. You're guys' opinions may be different, but I STRONGLY advocate either using portmanteaus, combining words based on their roots, or really just any other way than just sliding them next to each other.

Secondly, to just get some opinions here. If you ended up reading what I was posting did you like it? I get the sense that you fellows find it rather dispassionate. If not, would you continue reading?

Of course, in asking for a "review" of sorts, I'll leave one in return:

Uh... Hi,

I've been doing some writing lately and while I've always been interested in writing I've never really gotten the hang of it I suppose. Anyway, if you'd like to read some of what I've done have a look here and critique. Be harsh, very harsh.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Aaron tasted dust, and blood. They mingled in his mouth producing a tangy, metallic paste that stuck to the top of his mouth. It was like this every time, every single damn time! Whenever he came to the small village of Rookstead with his father and brother, he was beaten and bullied by the taller and stronger village boys. He swished the paste around in his mouth with what little saliva was still there.
 
That morning he had awoken with a bad taste, similar to bile, already in his mouth. He had known then that he was going to the village that morning. He had known what awaited him there, the teasing, the name-calling and finally the beating. He supposed that it wasn’t all, the village boy’s fault. They lived a quiet life and the occasional visits, from either farmers living out of the village or storytellers, were the only excitement they had. He just wished they wouldn’t use him as their punching bag.

“Wake up, weakling!” The shouted voice shook him out of his reverie as a pair of huge, roughly calloused hands lifted him up. The hands belonged to Jorge a lackey of the main bully, the ringleader, Stephen. “Still awake Aaron? Maybe I didn’t hit you hard enough.” Stephen was huge, he was easily the tallest, and the strongest of all the boys, both those living on outlying farms and in the village, he enjoyed fighting and his favourite “partner” was Aaron. Aaron on the other hand was not huge, he was small and his skinny frame was pale,s and a face more like his mothers than his fathers was complete with green eyes. The hands pushed him back, away from Stephen and he stumbled slightly. “Prepare yourself!” Stephen shouted as he took a fighting stance.

Aaron just stood still his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. If he had learnt anything from his other beatings it was that resistance just caused more pain. He stood still and heard Stephen approach him. The first punch hit him in the stomach doubling him over and driving him back a few steps. The second hit him in an uppercut below his jaw. He felt his feet lift from the ground and he slammed onto his back dust flying up from his impact and lights flashing before his eyes.

He heard dimly a collective intake of breath from the gathered boys. They had hit him hard before but never this hard. Someone kneeled beside him and he saw through the flashing lights, Stephen. He suddenly felt angry. Angry with the boys, angry with himself but mostly angry with Stephen. He reached out a hand and touched Stephen, a shock passed through him and his vision cleared, his head stopped aching and the sea in his ears subsided. Most importantly however, Stephen was blown away.

Aaron stood up, the boys were quite as if expecting something. He walked over to the limp figure that he recognized as Stephen. As he neared he could hear Stephen breathing quick, shallow breaths as though he was winded. Aaron reached out a hand to help. Stephen’s eyes widened, in… In anger? No it was fear in his eyes. “Get… Get away from me! Freak!” He shouted this as though trying to reassure himself. Aaron turned his back on Stephen, and fled.

“What the…!” the voice of Aaron’s father burst out, an expletive only stopped by the stern gaze of his mother. They were sitting at a table cut from yellow peachwood, a beautiful and strong species of tree. Peachwood of this kind was extremely expensive and his family was only in possession of a table made from it because of a long-forgotten ancestor on Aaron’s mother’s side who had done some favour or other for a noble family and had been given the table as a gift. His father placed his hands around his tanned face and sighed. With his tanned face wrinkled with smile lines framing his brown eyes Aaron’s father was not an unkind man. No, he was not unkind, but he did believe in hard work and, if not exactly harsh, than almost harsh discipline. His mother was of a similar disposition, she believed that nothing was better for boys than good hard work, but she looked nothing like his father. Straight, blonde hair framed her petite oval face; indeed her whole body was petite, and striking green eyes shone from where they rested.

His father began to speak and this time he chose his words more carefully. “What… Were you thinking, Aaron?” He said carefully, lifting his face from it’s resting place in his hands, his barely contained fury evident in his eyes. “I…” Began Aaron his voice shaking for he knew how formidable his parent could be “I was a-angry.” He managed to finish. His father leaned across the table the palms of his hands flat against the table. “I don’t care how angry you were.  Breaking the ribs of the son of the most respected man in the entire village is not allowed under my roof!” The voice saying this had begun as a whisper and had risen in volume as his father had spoken was now a shout. Taking a breath to calm himself and his voice he continued, “I’ve been thinking for a while now and I’ve decided that you need to get an apprenticeship. Don’t look at me that way Moll!” His father shouted again, more than once a day that was unusual for him, and his mother’s unspoken protestations died in her throat. “You need to leave boy, make a life for yourself. Your brother will inherit the land when I…” His voice cracked slightly, “When I-I die, and you will not be able to live here anymore. There was a man in the village today he said that he was a natural philosopher of some kind and that he wanted an apprentice to learn his secrets. He said that he’d be in the village for a few more days but not long. I had thought to talk to you’re mother first but now, now I am decided. Tomorrow morning we will go to the village and there… There you will become an apprentice.”

Dinner that night was quiet. The silence broken only by the clattering of cutlery against plates and the audible sizzling of Aaron’s fathers skin because of his mother’s glare. Aaron went to bed exhausted and nervous, tomorrow he was leaving his family. He didn’t know when he was coming back, even if he was going to come back. He woke early the next morning mostly because his father was shaking him awake. He dressed quickly and packed what little possessions he owned in the grey light of pre-dawn. He clambered up onto the cart that was strapped to the one draft horse that his family owned for farm-work and drawing a cart when they went to town. They rode to town in silence and Aaron’s mouth became dryer and dryer with every foot they rode.

The door to the inn where the man Aaron was to be apprenticed to swung open easily on oiled hinges. “What ar’ya doin ‘ere John?” The shout came from the end of the room originating from a fat man cleaning the bench where food and drink was served. Despite the cool air the man was already sweating and it was this fact more than anything else that made it easy for Aaron to identify the man as the innkeeper. John, Aaron’s father, grinned and walked over to the man. “Getting the boy an apprenticeship Doen.” Doen raised an eyebrow and looked at Aaron, who was sulking just a little. “Goin ta be ‘prenticed to that natur’l philosphir guy ar’ya?”
“Yes sir.” Aaron said still a little sulkily.
“Look sharp den boy. ‘Ere e is now.”
A short man with a mass of grey, tangled hair on his head and a short bunched up beard came down the stairs and walked over to the bar. In what was obviously a cultured voice he began talking, “Thank you for the room, good innkeeper. It was of a high quality and the sheets were cleaner then expected, as a sign of my gratitude please accept this coin.” He reached into his clothes and drew forth a gold coin. Doen’s eyes lit up, gold was an uncommon sight around here. “Thank’ee good sa. A does try me best to keep da inn clean.” Doen performed an awkward bow and took the coin. John cleared his throat audibly and the small man turned to look at him. Aaron’s mouth was now completely dry, was this the man he was to be apprenticed to? A man who gave gold to innkeepers just because he slept in a clean room? Gold was valuable, money was valuable, was this man a fool?

John himself performed a clumsy bow his body unaccustomed to such movements and he began speaking in a halting voice. “Sir… Got a son. That is got a child, who… Apprentice.” The man looked at him strangely for a minute and he coloured. “Um… I’ve got a son who needs and apprenticeship.” He managed to rush this out without embarrassing himself overly much. The small man noticed Aaron for the first time his eyebrows furrowed, as he appeared to think for a minute, and then his face broke into a smile. “I accept” He quickly said, face still smiling. John was stunned at the speed with which things were moving. “Ah… Don’t you want to talk a little first…?” He started then stopped when the man shook his head. “No, no got to keep moving you see.” He turned to Aaron. “Come along boy, we have a long way to go.” He walked out the door and Aaron having no other choice, followed.

They walked for about a half hour by which time the sun had well and truly begun to rise. Sitting down the man Aaron had been apprenticed sat down on a log and began to pull items out of his pack and place them on the ground. “Had breakfast yet boy?” He asked. Still numb with the shock of being so quickly apprenticed to the man, from what he’d heard an apprenticeship usually took hours, at least, to set up, he could only bring himself to shake his head.
“Well boy, speak up.” The man said.
“Uh… No… Sir.”
“Good, I shall cook for two.”
“Um… Sir.”
“The man looked up with bright eyes. “Ferran boy. Master Ferran to you.”
“Um… Master Ferran sir.”
“No need for the sir.” He chuckled “Not as if I’m a knight.”
Aaron took a deep breath. “Master Ferran, what is it that you actually do?”

Ferran stopped his preparations and looked more closely at his new apprentice. “Why boy I am a natural philosopher. More specifically however as I assume you do not know what that entails, I am a magician, a user of magic, who follows a natural path. I use herbs and knowledge of the earth in partnership with magic to heal and create.” Ferran raised an eyebrow at Aaron’s stillness. “Well boy, got something to say?” Aaron didn’t respond, he’d frozen over at the word magic. It had made instant sense, what else could it have been yesterday?

Aaron took another breath and spoke. “Um… Master Ferran, how do you tell if someone has magic?” Ferran started.
“That reminds me actually, hold out your hand lad.” Aaron held out one of his hands as Ferran had asked. “What I’m going to do here, lad, is read your magical signature and power by sending a small jolt of magic between us and seeing how your body reacts.” Ferran said this while he grasped the boy’s smaller hands in both of his. “Are you ready boy?” Aaron could only manage a nod. Ferran closed his eyes and a light blue emanated from where his hands grasped Aaron’s. Aaron felt his hands cool down suddenly and then heat up as the blue light gave way to a white light and, feeling similar to how he had yesterday; he closed his eyes just in time.

When he opened his eyes he saw Ferran standing up and rubbing his back he ran over to where he had fallen. Luckily Ferran had landed on a soft bed of moss that covered dirt whereas if he had landed a few feet to his right on a collection of rocks it would have been quite a different story. Ferran waved him away. “It’s quite alright boy, as soon as I saw the changing light I realised what I had to do.” He looked up with a small frown. “Strong reaction though boy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen an non-magician with quite as much power before.” Ferran walked back to where he had abandoned breakfast while rubbing his hands. “I’m sure you have many questions lad, those however can wait for breakfast. You do like eggs?”

Breakfast was soon ready, Ferran appeared to move very quickly when food was involved and now that Aaron thought about it he did seem to have a bit of a… Potbelly. “Well lad,” He said over his plate of steaming hot eggs and bacon. “Eat up, we won’t eat like this every day if we intend to reach our destination, and while you eat talk, I’ll answer any questions you have if I can.” Aaron placed a stripper of bacon into his mouth and thought while chewing, he wanted to know of a lot of things and wasn’t sure where to start. When he swallowed he had decided. “What is magic?” Now it was Ferran’s and he too ate while he thought.
“Good question boy, a difficult one to answer as well.” He took a breath, inhaling an egg in the process. “From what we, magicians, can gather magic is a force similar to the wind in the air and the fires in our hearths. Like these forces magic can be harnessed, like the sails on our ships we can create tools that capture magic and direct it, however, with magic humans can also act as the tool. Most humans have very little power with magic and cannot direct it to any large degree, but some, like you or me, have a natural talent and can draw upon large amounts of the magic in the surroundings and direct it to whatever purpose suits us.”

Ferran stopped and ate a few more pieces of bacon washing them down with a swig from his canteen. “I believe that about sums up magic on a basic level. Anymore questions?” Aaron thought about his next move to not arouse suspicion about what he had done to Stephen he would have to broach this carefully. “Uh, could say, magic happen… Accidentally?” Ferran looked at him eyes slightly quizzical. “Well, yes, in fact it is quite common. When ambient magic builds up for one reason or another it looks for the most powerful magic user in the area and…” Ferran stopped and stared at him. “Would I be correct boy in assuming that this is what happened to the village headsman’s boy?” Aaron gulped. Apparently he hadn’t been subtle enough. “Maybe… Yes, but it was an accident.”
“Never mind that lad, accidents happen. Interesting though, you must be very powerful for ambient magic to gather around you when you haven’t been trained…” Ferran stood and stretched his back. “Well lad, if we want to reach the destination I have in mind we should start walking again soon. You are an apprentice however and that means that you have to clean the dishes.” Aaron groaned.

Oh! I almost forgot what is your view on fanfiction?

Firstly, in a very general sense, i'm against fanfiction. There are times when I don't mind it (this, presumably, being one, because I have no connection to its universe), but generally fanfiction is just more-of-the-same. I don't want to read an extremely similar story with similar characters doing similar things in the same universe. I find fan fiction okay when it adds to the atmosphere and helps you imagine the larger world... ESPECIALLY when it doesn't mention the main/side/tertiary characters of the canon too much/at all. (but when does that ever happen?)

Anyways, review stuff:

As a reader, I'm drawn in initially, but like Arx said, "Your plotline is, unfortunately, fairly clichéd." However, if that's what you like who am I to judge? The REAL problem I think lies in the pace of the story. It's fast. It's Barry Allen fast.

First of all, give us more background. I want to know EVERYTHING about this village, even things I didn't want to know about it. Then, develop this whole "bullied" thing a bit. Make me hate this Stephen fellow. Ya know, character development. Same goes for the rest of the non-POV characters, and especially Aaron's family. Aaron himself is at the same level of "needing more describing", but being the POV main character, you have a lot of time to explore his background/character, so it's OKAY not to give it all up at the get go.

Dialogue. Besides what Arx said, I like it. It might be cliche, but for the most part it's good. The few things that stand out are it's halting nature (god so many commas), and the sometimes awkward phrasing (most noticeable in Farren's lines).

To sum it up, it's fine, but it needs work. Despite the Cliches and the writing-side problems, if you keep at it it can be great. Of course, it's not without it's good parts: The way you describe magic is pretty good, and gives you a good indication of what it means in that world to be a magic user. Also, Ferran is a good character. (And also the stuff Arx said)

Thanks for the review and you have some interesting thoughts on fanfiction. Anyway, yeah I know it's a bit fast (who am I kidding it's way to fast and I need to harness this power to travel through time) and I think that this stems partly from the fact that I've never felt that I'm good at writing introductions and tend to speed through them and also laziness, so yeah I'll go back and try to fix this. Also, two many comma's? I guess I agree, how do you think I should fix this? Should I just brush up on my grammar?

Uh... Hi,

I've been doing some writing lately and while I've always been interested in writing I've never really gotten the hang of it I suppose. Anyway, if you'd like to read some of what I've done have a look here and critique. Be harsh, very harsh.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Aaron tasted dust, and blood. They mingled in his mouth producing a tangy, metallic paste that stuck to the top of his mouth. It was like this every time, every single damn time! Whenever he came to the small village of Rookstead with his father and brother, he was beaten and bullied by the taller and stronger village boys. He swished the paste around in his mouth with what little saliva was still there.
 
That morning he had awoken with a bad taste, similar to bile, already in his mouth. He had known then that he was going to the village that morning. He had known what awaited him there, the teasing, the name-calling and finally the beating. He supposed that it wasn’t all, the village boy’s fault. They lived a quiet life and the occasional visits, from either farmers living out of the village or storytellers, were the only excitement they had. He just wished they wouldn’t use him as their punching bag.

“Wake up, weakling!” The shouted voice shook him out of his reverie as a pair of huge, roughly calloused hands lifted him up. The hands belonged to Jorge a lackey of the main bully, the ringleader, Stephen. “Still awake Aaron? Maybe I didn’t hit you hard enough.” Stephen was huge, he was easily the tallest, and the strongest of all the boys, both those living on outlying farms and in the village, he enjoyed fighting and his favourite “partner” was Aaron. Aaron on the other hand was not huge, he was small and his skinny frame was pale,s and a face more like his mothers than his fathers was complete with green eyes. The hands pushed him back, away from Stephen and he stumbled slightly. “Prepare yourself!” Stephen shouted as he took a fighting stance.

Aaron just stood still his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. If he had learnt anything from his other beatings it was that resistance just caused more pain. He stood still and heard Stephen approach him. The first punch hit him in the stomach doubling him over and driving him back a few steps. The second hit him in an uppercut below his jaw. He felt his feet lift from the ground and he slammed onto his back dust flying up from his impact and lights flashing before his eyes.

He heard dimly a collective intake of breath from the gathered boys. They had hit him hard before but never this hard. Someone kneeled beside him and he saw through the flashing lights, Stephen. He suddenly felt angry. Angry with the boys, angry with himself but mostly angry with Stephen. He reached out a hand and touched Stephen, a shock passed through him and his vision cleared, his head stopped aching and the sea in his ears subsided. Most importantly however, Stephen was blown away.

Aaron stood up, the boys were quite as if expecting something. He walked over to the limp figure that he recognized as Stephen. As he neared he could hear Stephen breathing quick, shallow breaths as though he was winded. Aaron reached out a hand to help. Stephen’s eyes widened, in… In anger? No it was fear in his eyes. “Get… Get away from me! Freak!” He shouted this as though trying to reassure himself. Aaron turned his back on Stephen, and fled.

“What the…!” the voice of Aaron’s father burst out, an expletive only stopped by the stern gaze of his mother. They were sitting at a table cut from yellow peachwood, a beautiful and strong species of tree. Peachwood of this kind was extremely expensive and his family was only in possession of a table made from it because of a long-forgotten ancestor on Aaron’s mother’s side who had done some favour or other for a noble family and had been given the table as a gift. His father placed his hands around his tanned face and sighed. With his tanned face wrinkled with smile lines framing his brown eyes Aaron’s father was not an unkind man. No, he was not unkind, but he did believe in hard work and, if not exactly harsh, than almost harsh discipline. His mother was of a similar disposition, she believed that nothing was better for boys than good hard work, but she looked nothing like his father. Straight, blonde hair framed her petite oval face; indeed her whole body was petite, and striking green eyes shone from where they rested.

His father began to speak and this time he chose his words more carefully. “What… Were you thinking, Aaron?” He said carefully, lifting his face from it’s resting place in his hands, his barely contained fury evident in his eyes. “I…” Began Aaron his voice shaking for he knew how formidable his parent could be “I was a-angry.” He managed to finish. His father leaned across the table the palms of his hands flat against the table. “I don’t care how angry you were.  Breaking the ribs of the son of the most respected man in the entire village is not allowed under my roof!” The voice saying this had begun as a whisper and had risen in volume as his father had spoken was now a shout. Taking a breath to calm himself and his voice he continued, “I’ve been thinking for a while now and I’ve decided that you need to get an apprenticeship. Don’t look at me that way Moll!” His father shouted again, more than once a day that was unusual for him, and his mother’s unspoken protestations died in her throat. “You need to leave boy, make a life for yourself. Your brother will inherit the land when I…” His voice cracked slightly, “When I-I die, and you will not be able to live here anymore. There was a man in the village today he said that he was a natural philosopher of some kind and that he wanted an apprentice to learn his secrets. He said that he’d be in the village for a few more days but not long. I had thought to talk to you’re mother first but now, now I am decided. Tomorrow morning we will go to the village and there… There you will become an apprentice.”

Dinner that night was quiet. The silence broken only by the clattering of cutlery against plates and the audible sizzling of Aaron’s fathers skin because of his mother’s glare. Aaron went to bed exhausted and nervous, tomorrow he was leaving his family. He didn’t know when he was coming back, even if he was going to come back. He woke early the next morning mostly because his father was shaking him awake. He dressed quickly and packed what little possessions he owned in the grey light of pre-dawn. He clambered up onto the cart that was strapped to the one draft horse that his family owned for farm-work and drawing a cart when they went to town. They rode to town in silence and Aaron’s mouth became dryer and dryer with every foot they rode.

The door to the inn where the man Aaron was to be apprenticed to swung open easily on oiled hinges. “What ar’ya doin ‘ere John?” The shout came from the end of the room originating from a fat man cleaning the bench where food and drink was served. Despite the cool air the man was already sweating and it was this fact more than anything else that made it easy for Aaron to identify the man as the innkeeper. John, Aaron’s father, grinned and walked over to the man. “Getting the boy an apprenticeship Doen.” Doen raised an eyebrow and looked at Aaron, who was sulking just a little. “Goin ta be ‘prenticed to that natur’l philosphir guy ar’ya?”
“Yes sir.” Aaron said still a little sulkily.
“Look sharp den boy. ‘Ere e is now.”
A short man with a mass of grey, tangled hair on his head and a short bunched up beard came down the stairs and walked over to the bar. In what was obviously a cultured voice he began talking, “Thank you for the room, good innkeeper. It was of a high quality and the sheets were cleaner then expected, as a sign of my gratitude please accept this coin.” He reached into his clothes and drew forth a gold coin. Doen’s eyes lit up, gold was an uncommon sight around here. “Thank’ee good sa. A does try me best to keep da inn clean.” Doen performed an awkward bow and took the coin. John cleared his throat audibly and the small man turned to look at him. Aaron’s mouth was now completely dry, was this the man he was to be apprenticed to? A man who gave gold to innkeepers just because he slept in a clean room? Gold was valuable, money was valuable, was this man a fool?

John himself performed a clumsy bow his body unaccustomed to such movements and he began speaking in a halting voice. “Sir… Got a son. That is got a child, who… Apprentice.” The man looked at him strangely for a minute and he coloured. “Um… I’ve got a son who needs and apprenticeship.” He managed to rush this out without embarrassing himself overly much. The small man noticed Aaron for the first time his eyebrows furrowed, as he appeared to think for a minute, and then his face broke into a smile. “I accept” He quickly said, face still smiling. John was stunned at the speed with which things were moving. “Ah… Don’t you want to talk a little first…?” He started then stopped when the man shook his head. “No, no got to keep moving you see.” He turned to Aaron. “Come along boy, we have a long way to go.” He walked out the door and Aaron having no other choice, followed.

They walked for about a half hour by which time the sun had well and truly begun to rise. Sitting down the man Aaron had been apprenticed sat down on a log and began to pull items out of his pack and place them on the ground. “Had breakfast yet boy?” He asked. Still numb with the shock of being so quickly apprenticed to the man, from what he’d heard an apprenticeship usually took hours, at least, to set up, he could only bring himself to shake his head.
“Well boy, speak up.” The man said.
“Uh… No… Sir.”
“Good, I shall cook for two.”
“Um… Sir.”
“The man looked up with bright eyes. “Ferran boy. Master Ferran to you.”
“Um… Master Ferran sir.”
“No need for the sir.” He chuckled “Not as if I’m a knight.”
Aaron took a deep breath. “Master Ferran, what is it that you actually do?”

Ferran stopped his preparations and looked more closely at his new apprentice. “Why boy I am a natural philosopher. More specifically however as I assume you do not know what that entails, I am a magician, a user of magic, who follows a natural path. I use herbs and knowledge of the earth in partnership with magic to heal and create.” Ferran raised an eyebrow at Aaron’s stillness. “Well boy, got something to say?” Aaron didn’t respond, he’d frozen over at the word magic. It had made instant sense, what else could it have been yesterday?

Aaron took another breath and spoke. “Um… Master Ferran, how do you tell if someone has magic?” Ferran started.
“That reminds me actually, hold out your hand lad.” Aaron held out one of his hands as Ferran had asked. “What I’m going to do here, lad, is read your magical signature and power by sending a small jolt of magic between us and seeing how your body reacts.” Ferran said this while he grasped the boy’s smaller hands in both of his. “Are you ready boy?” Aaron could only manage a nod. Ferran closed his eyes and a light blue emanated from where his hands grasped Aaron’s. Aaron felt his hands cool down suddenly and then heat up as the blue light gave way to a white light and, feeling similar to how he had yesterday; he closed his eyes just in time.

When he opened his eyes he saw Ferran standing up and rubbing his back he ran over to where he had fallen. Luckily Ferran had landed on a soft bed of moss that covered dirt whereas if he had landed a few feet to his right on a collection of rocks it would have been quite a different story. Ferran waved him away. “It’s quite alright boy, as soon as I saw the changing light I realised what I had to do.” He looked up with a small frown. “Strong reaction though boy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen an non-magician with quite as much power before.” Ferran walked back to where he had abandoned breakfast while rubbing his hands. “I’m sure you have many questions lad, those however can wait for breakfast. You do like eggs?”

Breakfast was soon ready, Ferran appeared to move very quickly when food was involved and now that Aaron thought about it he did seem to have a bit of a… Potbelly. “Well lad,” He said over his plate of steaming hot eggs and bacon. “Eat up, we won’t eat like this every day if we intend to reach our destination, and while you eat talk, I’ll answer any questions you have if I can.” Aaron placed a stripper of bacon into his mouth and thought while chewing, he wanted to know of a lot of things and wasn’t sure where to start. When he swallowed he had decided. “What is magic?” Now it was Ferran’s and he too ate while he thought.
“Good question boy, a difficult one to answer as well.” He took a breath, inhaling an egg in the process. “From what we, magicians, can gather magic is a force similar to the wind in the air and the fires in our hearths. Like these forces magic can be harnessed, like the sails on our ships we can create tools that capture magic and direct it, however, with magic humans can also act as the tool. Most humans have very little power with magic and cannot direct it to any large degree, but some, like you or me, have a natural talent and can draw upon large amounts of the magic in the surroundings and direct it to whatever purpose suits us.”

Ferran stopped and ate a few more pieces of bacon washing them down with a swig from his canteen. “I believe that about sums up magic on a basic level. Anymore questions?” Aaron thought about his next move to not arouse suspicion about what he had done to Stephen he would have to broach this carefully. “Uh, could say, magic happen… Accidentally?” Ferran looked at him eyes slightly quizzical. “Well, yes, in fact it is quite common. When ambient magic builds up for one reason or another it looks for the most powerful magic user in the area and…” Ferran stopped and stared at him. “Would I be correct boy in assuming that this is what happened to the village headsman’s boy?” Aaron gulped. Apparently he hadn’t been subtle enough. “Maybe… Yes, but it was an accident.”
“Never mind that lad, accidents happen. Interesting though, you must be very powerful for ambient magic to gather around you when you haven’t been trained…” Ferran stood and stretched his back. “Well lad, if we want to reach the destination I have in mind we should start walking again soon. You are an apprentice however and that means that you have to clean the dishes.” Aaron groaned.

Oh! I almost forgot what is your view on fanfiction?

First, I like well-written fanfiction that doesn't alter the events of canon. It's a way to fill the gaping hole left in my soul when I finish something and know I will never get to have that particular experience again.

Second, your story.

* Arx cracks knuckles.

In dialogue, write each speaker's parts on a new line.

There are a number of minor grammatical errors and typos in your story. Things like "than" instead of "then", "quite" instead of "quiet". A couple of passes after writing it should clean up most of those, though, so no worries.

Your flow is the most glaring problem. It feels like everything is happening in one contiguous sequence, right on top of each other. That's partly related to not having the dialogue spaced out, though.

What's the peach wood table got to do with anything? It feels like unnecessary information that was just wedged in.

I liked the innkeeper's accent.

Your plotline is, unfortunately, fairly clichéd. I'm not sure how to redeem that.



There you go. That's by no means everything, but it's a start.
Keep reading, keep writing, keep reading.

Thanks for the review, Arx. I did believe that I had fixed most, if not all of the grammatical errors that you pointed out, so thanks for pointing them out. With the dialogue on a new line thing, I actually thought that you only did that if there was dialogue on the same line, but I suppose that you learn new things every day. Yeah, the peachwood table wasn't needed and probably shouldn't be there but I did like it. I do have some ideas for making the plot non-clichéd so I'll write a few of those up to see what you guys think. The tip about reading and writing is good too, one only gets better with practice.

Oh, btw I asked about fanfiction not because this is a fanfiction but because I'm interested in it at the moment.

[Urist McScoopbeard]

Thanks Urist McScoopbeard and Arx for looking at the piece.

snip

Thanks for the review and you have some interesting thoughts on fanfiction. Anyway, yeah I know it's a bit fast (who am I kidding it's way to fast and I need to harness this power to travel through time) and I think that this stems partly from the fact that I've never felt that I'm good at writing introductions and tend to speed through them and also laziness, so yeah I'll go back and try to fix this. Also, two many comma's? I guess I agree, how do you think I should fix this? Should I just brush up on my grammar?

snip

Thanks for the review, Arx. I did believe that I had fixed most, if not all of the grammatical errors that you pointed out, so thanks for pointing them out. With the dialogue on a new line thing, I actually thought that you only did that if there was dialogue on the same line, but I suppose that you learn new things every day. Yeah, the peachwood table wasn't needed and probably shouldn't be there but I did like it. I do have some ideas for making the plot non-clichéd so I'll write a few of those up to see what you guys think. The tip about reading and writing is good too, one only gets better with practice.

Oh, btw I asked about fanfiction not because this is a fanfiction but because I'm interested in it at the moment.

No probs. The way I would go about fixing it would be to reread the story and ask yourself, "can I describe more?" If you can: do so. However, having just told you that you should describe more, also know that description is a two way street. When you describe something, you give the reader a picture. If you don't, the reader will draw their own picture. So you need to keep the information you give out in the story in balance. Too much, and you've bored the reader. Too little, and you have a multitude of problems (including a quick pace, confusing the reader, frustrating the reader, and muddying-up the writing in general.) Basically, give enough info to keep the reader hooked, but not too much that it becomes a description rather than a story.

(A good rule of thumb is to only include what your POV character knows or thinks, and then only what he's thinking at that moment.)

As far as dialogue goes: Read other people's dialogue, see what works. I don't want to really stifle you here, because writing dialogue is a big part of a (fiction) author's style. Also the dialogue can get awkward every now and again, after all imagine how much we as human beings stumble over our words on a daily basis!

and on another note: the only real 'type' of 'fan fiction' I like are AARs from games, if that counts in your books.

[TD1]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The moon above was fully white
And down it shot its beams
To smite the house with silver light
And palely gleaming reams.

And hark, what voice afar is heard
Upon the midnight breeze-
Ah, nothing much, just wind not word,
A wind that echoes tumbling seas.

The walls are pillars standing tall,
The house is made a moon
That, though shining still did fall
Before its time, and much too soon.

Great is this shrine to heaven’s light,
But still, one facet only may be seen
For that which yet denies my sight
Is dark, and so has always been.

[hops]

Spoiler: Objects Retrieved from Project Khaos (click to show/hide)

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #7, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

A bearded man sat in front of the crisp, high-definition camera. He adjusted his square glasses and scratched his ginger beard. His eyes looked at something above the camera. "Video log number one. This is Doctor Damon speaking to ASAI. We just left the solar system, so I guess this video won't be transmitted until our return trip." Damon chuckled. "At least I sent the earlier two to my family. This one isn't professional either, but at least you guys will find it more useful. Hydroponics is in top working conditions, and we've got enough gases to run a dozen generation ships. The cloning labs work too, in case of accidents. But hey, we've seen enough movies, right? I don't think the ship will be beset by evil aliens. Yet." he grinned.

[CLASSIFIED INFORMATION]

PROJECT KHAOS
ASSOCIATED PERSONNELS:
CRAWFORD, MILES: OVERSEER, PERSONNEL
BUCKLEY, CHRISTIAN: TECHNICIAN
PAULSON, JAMES: TECHNICIAN
MARTIN, JOHN: ENVIRONMENT SPECIALIST
O'NEAL, GWYNETH: PHYSICIAN
ANDERSON, JACK: COUNSELOR
SMITH, PAULINE: RESEARCHER
DAMON, KENNEDY: RESEARCHER

MISSION STATEMENT: Collection of data on the centre of the universe. Due to the sensitivity of the equipment, human personnels are required.

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #21 DEATH REPORT]

Name: JACK
Surname: ANDERSON
Cause of Death: Deliberately leaving the airlock without protective equipment. Due to possible mental illness, subject will not be cloned onboard.

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #8, AUDIO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

The droning white noise sounded... different. More chaotic than the usual white noise one can hear on television.

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #9, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

Dr. Damon grinned. "Video log two. Things are looking promising so far! Me and Smith recorded a couple samples of the radio noises that our equipment get here. We aren't getting distress calls from alien civilizations, sadly. Or if we are, it's too garbled. The thing is, about ten percent of that white noise is accounted by the microwave that used to be the Big Bang's light. We can hear the Big Bang on Earth, too, but it's getting clearer here. Hopefully, at our current speed of hundred c, we will be seeing the actual light."

He paused dramatically.

"We will be seeing the Big Bang!"

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #22, INTERROGATION TRANSCRIPT, DATE CLASSIFIED]

Miles Crawford: This is Miles Crawford, Personnel Overseer. With me is Mr. Buckley and Mr. Paulson. Now, what do you know about the incident? How was Mr. Anderson able to leave the ship?

Chris Buckley: I I don't know sir.

James Paulson: Only me and Chris had the authorizations to override the safety. He must have the suit beacon.

Miles Crawford: So you are saying that Mr. Anderson deliberately fooled the sensors... To kill himself?

James Paulson: Exactly. I can't see how else. Of course, I was off duty so I didn't see him leaving.

Chris Buckley: He... just exploded when the airlock opened.

Miles Crawford: Jesus. That sounds like a mess. Subject is likely to have committed suicide, then.

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #27, ENCRYPTED JOURNAL, DATE CLASSIFIED]

--garbled--(Language) OF THE GODS. WE ARE GOING IN THE  --garbled-- MUST ESCAPE.

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #29, WOODEN FIGURINE, DATE CLASSIFIED]

It looks like one of those fat Venus clay sculptures found on Earth. It has large breasts and is spherical from the figure's massive girth. The diameter is around 5 cm.

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #15, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

Damon is writing something on the desk in front of the camera. "Smith was showing the white noises around. Our newer ones are... special, so she's a bit upset that nobody but me is impressed. But hey, we are the only physicists on board." he chuckled. "It's like that woman wants them to see the glowing phosphorus in a jar of pee. She'll probably want them to read over the data we collect from our quantum experiments once we turn off the FTL drive too, I'll bet."

He appears to be in deep thought as he writes more. "Oh, right. This is video log five."

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #12, AUDIO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

White noises. It sounded like the earlier one. The sound has a peculiar quality to it, however, as if the medium is failing to convey it correctly.

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #17, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

Damon sits in front of the camera, beaming excitedly.
“Video log seven! We’re getting closer to the center of creation! I mean, obviously we can’t get too close or else the radiation would mess us up pretty badly. So far, every time we stop to collect cosmic noises, it’s still pretty dark out. It’s brighter then Earth, though. There’s loads of stars here, but they’re normal stars, not primordial light. Get this, though, the ones we are approaching are blue, and the ones we pass are red. Looks like the stars are going on the opposite direction to us. I wonder why. Must be the dark matter doing weird sciencey stuffs.”

“What, just because I’m a physicist doesn’t mean I know everything!”

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #20, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

Damon sits with a mug of coffee. “I saw it! We saw it! The ancient stars are around us! Now, this is a lot more exciting than radio noises!

We’re stopping soon. We can’t get too near the center, the density of high-energy particles is increasing, and it might be reaching lethal level if we got too close. So, here we are, ”

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #24, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

“Anderson just blew himself up.” Damon nursed his head. “What the heck. Crawford is real pissed. He thinks somebody murdered him. Maybe me and Smith were too occupied with our research to know if there was any politics bullshit going on.

You'd probably expect things to go to hell first, but for the record, no, things are in top condition. Crawford hasn't shot anyone yet. Martin hasn't gone insane and sabotaged our life support. The engineers... Well you get the idea.

Smith has been erratic, though. Not the 'insane serial killer' sort of erratic, at least. She thinks there's something with the radio noises though. Okay, I might be underestimating how batshit she is becoming."

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #25, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

Dr. Damon hasn't shaved for a while. It wasn't obvious in the earlier video, but now it is.

"Yeah, there's some weird shit going on with the radio noises. Seems like you can only truly hear it when you're listening to live feed, but I'm recording these anyways. By the way, O'Neal somehow talked Crawford into letting her clone Anderson. Apparently, he's as baffled by his own actions as others. Crawford sent a dozen drones stalking him wherever he goes, but that's understandable.

Martin carved a fat woman figurine with our spare wood. I don't judge a man's hobby, but something about it give me the creeps."

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #26, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

"Smith shot herself. She's not getting cloned. No."

Dr. Damon covered his ears and groaned.

"I feel like I can still hear the goddamn radio noises. The drones are still busy doing quantum experiments, so we can't be leaving for a good 4 months, and we're falling apart already? Give me a break."

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #28, PAPER NOTE, DATE CLASSIFIED]

Gone fishing. - John

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #30, ANNOUNCEMENT TRANSCRIPT, DATE CLASSIFIED]

"I'm putting the ship on lockdown. Nobody is going near the airlocks except the engineers. You aren't even supposed to go near the airlocks. And no, O'Neal, I'm not cloning him. I don't care that he manages our life support. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #45, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

Dr. Damon had shaved his beard off.

"Video log fifteen. Looks like Crawford locking down the ship worked. Two months to go. Here's hoping life support doesn't randomly fail.

Hope I didn't jinx it.

Anyways, it's boring as hell. I might as well start interpreting the data the drones collected."

"The noise is still ringing. I'm not sure if others hear it."

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #52, ANNOUNCEMENT TRANSCRIPT, DATE CLASSIFIED]

"Does anyone else hear the buzzing noise? The engineers checked the ship and apparently it wasn't the ship. Don't ask me how that even works. Must be particles bouncing on the metal, but that's not a scientific guess."

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #54, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

Dr. Damon gave the camera a thousand miles stare.

"Sentient life was not as rare as we thought. When a system is complex enough, consciousness occurs."

[RETRIEVED OBJECT #57, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED]

An empty bottle of pills sat on the table.

"Space didn't listen to them, the thing that sits in the galaxy. Neither will I. Smith knew she would be safe in oblivion. The mission will be finished soon, anyways. I hope Crawford doesn't snap first. I would warn them, but I don't know if they will believe me."

He wheezed, his eyelids fluttering.

"Space isn't just expanding, it's fleeing."