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Editado por abearjo: 5/15/2018 3:47:27 AM
5

Story Hour: The Pendulum Part 1

This is partly because of an idea Demix had back in one of his old story time posts, definitely go check those out. But for now let’s dive into this story. *[i]Scraaaaaaaaaape[/i]* The sound made him jolt upright in his seat. He was blinded by the intense light coming from the street lamp piercing though the roof of the bus like an arrow through flesh. As his vision returned he felt confused, where was he? What was this place? He looked down at himself and saw a bloodstained shirt accompanied by torn pants and mangled shoes. He was baffled he, didn’t own any of these clothes, why was he wearing them and what was this, bus? He felt his forehead and brought Down a hand with traces of blood, fresh and dried, what happened, where was he what was going on? He stumbled his way to the front of the bus looking like a man who had to much to drink. He made his way to the front and found the doors jammed shut. He looked around heartbeat increasing, desperate to find something to get out. Down the isle: nothing Drivers seat: nothing Ceiling: nothing he pressed his palms against his head as tears welled up in his eyes. Why was he being so emotional? Why couldn’t he remember anything? He looked at the drivers seat again and saw something. A crowbar. He lunged for it and grasped it in shaking hands. He shoved it into the small gap in between the doors and pushed in the opposite direction. The doors opened with a hiss, as if the hinges were made of hungry snakes. He stepped outside only to be greeted by the stench of death and decay. He looked around at the nightmarish scene before him. Animal corpses strewn about the street like garbage, cars abandoned by their previous owners lay still and silent as if waiting to hear the familiar jingle of their owners keys. As he stood in shock looking around at the world he was a part of he threw up on the spot. After getting up he looked down at the bits of half digested food swimming around in a lake of blood. At the center of the mixture lay a stained, folded piece of paper. He reached down shaking all over, it wasn’t even cold; he picked up the paper and unfolded it as gently as a freight train. Inside was a scrawled message containing two words: [i]don’t forget.[/i] “What?” He said, but before he could get his thoughts in order there was loud crash that sounded from his left. He hid behind the burst wheel of the bus. As he steadied his nerves he risked a glance over the hood of the bus. He saw a building four stories high standing out against the pale green dawn. He saw in front of the store, a river of tiny glass shards in the street. Twinkling like stars that fell from the sky. All the windows of the building were covered by glass panes but one. At the very center of the fourth floor. He took to a cautious stance before shouting, “HELLO! Is anyone here?” Nothing. No response No acknowledgment Nobody He started a walk over to the building to find out what knocked out the window. He inched his way over knowing that these few minutes could be his last. Half way there as he stepped he heard a gut wrenching crunch under his foot. He closed his eyes for a second before looking down. Below him was the carcass of a German Shepherd with a missing ear and half eaten legs; it’s stomach slit to reveal the spillage of all its organs. Some were crushed and smashed together like a car accident gone worse. He felt his insides move around, squirming to get away from the ghastly scene. Tears welled up in his eyes as he tried to move his foot, but fear kept it glued to the body of the animal until he finally broke his gaze away from the corpse. While walking away he could hear a small squelch from his left shoe every time he stepped. After a minute of cautious walking he reached the entrance to what appeared to be an ELECTROMart. As he stepped through the shattered sliding doors he saw all the shelves ransacked for electronics. Light fixtures hanging by bare wires. In the center of the store however lay the bottom of an enormous hole that went up all four stories. he stepped underneath it and looked up to try and find whoever or whatever knocked out the window. As he moved around the edge of the hole he tripped over a small object on the floor. He picked up round thing and flipped it over. On the other side was a worn out, beaten man, staring right back at him. He threw the object down only to then laugh at how on edge he was. He picked it up again and the same man was still there, Only he knew that the man on the other side of that glass barrier was himself. As he stared down at the broken man in the mirror a single brick fell from the fourth floor and broke on the ground in the middle of the hole. He stopped and dropped the mirror, it shattering at his feet. He approached the hole but upon reaching the edge he heard a voice. He couldn’t make out what it was saying but thought that it felt familiar. Just as he was thinking he heard footsteps echo from above and then a jump. He stepped back as he saw a man plummet down the hole. He stood in pure shock as the man reached the very bottom only to stop. He had closed his eyes to spare himself of the gruesome image. But instead of hearing the splat he heard nothing. he opened his eyes and immediately regretted doing so. He saw a man in a bloodstained shirt accompanied by torn pants and mangled shoes With a face that was worn out, beaten, and broken. It was him. Dangling. Swinging. Dead. And hanging. He felt a cold chill go down his spine as he looked at the dead man in front of him. But as he looked at his head he saw blood; dried and new, spell out a message. [i]don’t forget [/i] “What do you mea-“ he started to say before he was cut off by the pain of a meat clever burrowing deep into his neck. His flesh, and bone. [b]This is part one of three of a short story I’m working on if you would like to give your criticism down below then go ahead. All criticism is constructive.[/b]

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  • The story itself is great so far, but I do have a few issues. For one thing, as DeMix said, you need to go back over your grammar. I once spoke to a writer here who refused to work on grammar because he "figured a reviewer would do that for [him]." They won't. The other thing is some of your figurative language use. For example, your opening with the non-lexical onomatopeia "scraaaaaaaape." Instead, I would recomend using an italic sentence along the lines of "a long, drawn out scraping sound emanates from the opposite side of the room." Given some thought, you could come up with better than that. Finally, I'd like to see you develop your similes/metaphors a little more. Be as creative as possible, but make sure there is still a comparison to be made. But like I said, this is a great story and for an early draft I really like it. You can definitely take this somewhere interesting.

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