klapman posted:

Chapter Nine: Sun Rises, Sun Sets, Sun Rises

Snow fell softly snow falling softly is probably the most generic way you can describe snow falling on the barren plains, bathing the world in white likewise, I think you can describe in a more unique manner than just white, a use of metaphor or simile could be effective here to give us some into how Jeff sees things. Jeff's eyes watered in the fresh cold, the faint wisps of a beard clinging to his chin. He drank in the scenery hungrily I hate this adverb, interrupted only by his eyes flicking unwittingly toward the fading sunset. The shadows lengthened, a tree cracked in the forest This doesn't quite fit well, since it contrasts heavily with your other sentences and while grammatically a sentence, it feels like a fragment. Also, why are these two ideas combined with a comma? They feel separate enough that they should be two different sentences. Days hardly lingered long enough for lunch, and a peaceful slumber held the village in its cold grip.

With one last deep breath through his nose, Jeff turned his back to the plains, fixing Oakentown firmly in his sights. As he turned, his new breastplate caught the last dying gasp of sunlight, flashing orange atop the hill Ok, you got a lot of description going on, but I'm not sure to what end. This may be because idk what's happened earlier, but I'm left wanting some kind of action. It's just been him staring at the scenery, and while it's not awful description, it's just kind of boring. I think this could work if it felt more like Jeff was interacting with the scenery in how he describes it, but right now, it feels rather flat and unimaginative. Jeff winced as it nearly blinded him, and began to rub hurriedly adverbs like these actually do the opposite of what you're trying to do. hurriedly slows down the sentence when you want it to be a bit quicker at his eyes, and his lack of attention nearly sent him rolling down the hill like a one-man avalanche. Instead, he slid down the hill, wildly flinging his arms about to keep his balance, his eyes streaming, and upon reaching the bottom without incident, his grin was fit to light the village with no need for lamps uhhhh, what does this have to do with anything?.

Jeff had slid down all the way to the houses, and in one of the windows he spied a pair of eyes staring back at him. He spared the child a quick wink and a grin, and walked on to his beat without pausing for a moment something about this reads weird, not sure what exactly. the without pausing for a moment is just... weird? idk how to describe exactly just that im not a fan. In the autumn most people were too busy to make trouble, and in the winter it was too cold to bother doing it outside, so outside of patrolling the bar there wasn't too much to do. Nevertheless, Jeff's boots led him through his usual routine. If crimes only happened where they were expected, they'd be poor crimes indeed.

Aside from his fellow guardsmen, there were few wandering the streets. The one exception to the rule were those who had taken on the role of scraping snow off the buildings – if too much built up, one might suddenly find themselves with their roof as their blanket instead. They were spread out, but you could generally find one on any given street – usually the same one, as the work attracted territorial types. It was easier for everyone to have their own turf than to be the tenth one asking an irritated housewife for work I don't hate this paragraph, but it just strikes me as kind of dull and boring world building.

Jeff shook his head, his eyes rolling upwards almost of their own accord. The other towns and villages in the area had their roofing done by someone with sense, and gave up their little balconies and decorations for the ability to shrug off the snow without constant maintenance. Still, he mused, better to have more work for those who need it. Even if it might result in the same for those who'd rather have a beer. Still, they were working diligently enough, and even worked well as lookouts in the increasingly rare case of bandits So, since the start of this chapter this is what has happened - guy looked at scenery then walked around, stared at things, and thought to himself. i'm really loving bored at the moment.

Save an odd grunt or shout from the roofscrapers, the newborn night had already grown quiet. Distant shouts indicated the direction of the bar, but there wasn't an edge in them, and it was too early to bum a mug. Jeff shook his shoulders slightly, savoring what little warmth he could. The sound of his boots crunching through the snow was steady as a babe's cradle in motion, and his breathing came fit to match. It's not really that your descriptions are bad, I've certainly seen worse, but they lack a particular charm to keep me engaged. There's nothing unique to what is happening in the setting or environment, and with the lack of action, I really have no reason to care. Of course, this is based entirely on not knowing what has happened earlier in this novel.

In this steady rhythm, becoming complacent was a simple matter. Jeff's neck remained unbent despite the tiny icicle beginning to form under his nose, and while his eyes didn't dart from point to point, neither did they ever stop moving. Ever since that night in the autumn downpour, Captain Brandt had taken extra care in lecturing Jeff, and expected more to boot. Jeff had assumed that when Tommy started his work at the bar that he'd get a new partner, but Brandt hadn't broached the issue; and more than that, Jeff had appreciated the opportunity to think without interruption.

Time to think had become something of a valuable commodity for Jeff. Brandt's new drills really did seem meant to teach one man how to fight with the strength of two, and when Brandt was satisfied, that only meant Phillip took an interest. Days off were spent sparring, and the nights were spent in the woods – and that could mean anything from hunting to gathering herbs. Jeff had complained at first, but Phillip only pointed out that learning to spot them at night would make them obvious in the light of day, and Jeff could only shrug vaguely in response. Ok, now this seems to be something important. I mean, I'm missing the obvious context, but like this stuff feels essential to your overall narrative and while I'm not going to call it super interesting, it's at least doing something rather than being bland generic descriptions

One aftereffect of this was not the ability to ignore the cold – that wasn't quite possible. But it did teach one how to handle it. In the forest, it was hard to pretend that you'd be right back into the warm; so instead, you stopped huddling around and wasting time, you covered the important bits, and you got on with things. And the guard uniform, uncomfortable as it might be, didn't do a half-bad job of staving off frostbite. Phillip's wife, Jen, also took the liberty of knitting him a warm sweater – an act that earned Jeff a couple of days of silence from Tommy, but was easily worth it. The breastplate fit over it like a glove.

A shadow stirred from the mouth of a nearby alley, and Jeff's steps didn't falter an inch. His gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead of him, and he peered into the alley through the corner of his vision. When the shadow ducked back into the alley proper, Jeff stopped. That alley in particular, if he remembered correctly, wound quite a ways – but ended with a brick wall. The guardsman waited patiently for curiosity to kill the cat Please don't use cliche expressions. they're not good or interesting, even when you're trying to be clever with them., his eyes focused on the alley. The shadow poked its head out for a solitary instant, and the strength building within Jeff's legs unleashed itself all at once This sentence feels rather weak for what it's trying to say. I should be feeling ENERGY and STRENGTH, but the construction makes it feel tepid and bleh..

The sight of a reasonably hearty policeman charging at you doesn't inspire a great range of reactions, but in terms of intensity few things can match it Ok, same problem. You got a guy charging your character. You should be hyping me up, throwing some energy at me. The rest of this chapter has been slow, and now you got action going. Throw it at me, surprise me, make me feel the energy. This description just absolutely BLOWS because it takes all the energy out of your story. There's a bunch of other ways to describe it, but this isn't a good way. Make me feel it, describe it to me, bring some energy to this piece rather than these bland descriptions of action.. The shadow turned (without hesitation, Jeff noted) This, too, takes a lot of the energy out. You have to be careful about this in action. Just simple things like this can get in the way and take me out of the emotion or feeling you're trying to create and the chase began. If you asked Jeff why he was chasing the shadow so intensely, he'd at first look at you like you'd suddenly grown a tumor on your nose. Then his mouth would open, nothing would come out, and after a few moments of silence, he'd look you straight in the eye. “Well, I dunno, seems pretty suspicious right?” God, just the same problem. You have action going, I want to see the action, STOP BREAKING UP THE ACTION WITH BORING poo poo I WANT TO SEE THEM CHASE EACH OTHER JFC

The speed at which the shadow moved was a testament to how suspicious one act when they find themselves in mortal danger Consider rewriting this sentence as "The shadow was moving like it was being chased by a knife wielding maniac" or some such variation. First of all, the sentence feels passive because you start with "speed" when the subject is the shadow, and it also feels like you're using way too many words for such a simple description "the shadow is moving fast".. The alley didn't allow much light in the first place, and with the moon blocking the clouds, the shadow didn't become any clearer despite Jeff's best efforts. But with each duck and weave, and every perfect turn, something began to tickle the back of the guardsman's mind. He wanted nothing more than to set it aside and enjoy the chase, but his legs disagreed; Jeff slowed, and the shadow disappeared further into the gloom. Ok, am I supposed to know this from earlier stuff in the novel or is just kind of out of the blue?

As he rounded the final corner, revelation came in the form of the sound of air splitting not an inch from his ear Rewrite as "He heard [sound]." Things like this kill the pace you're trying to make.. “They haven't missed a single corner.” The long, subtle thought began, unraveling in one frozen instant. “If they know the alley, they know it's a dead end. They know it's quiet. Separate. Attack.” Brandt seemed to appear before Jeff in that moment, his form melding with that of the shadow. The instant become a second, and the second after saw Jeff leaping upon the shadow, truncheon already in its violent course.

Even while Jeff's mind readied itself for the punishing blow, the effortless dodge and counter that was Brandt's signature, the heavy club hit home This sentence makes no sense and is really really weird. I'm not quite sure what you were trying to do with it. The shadow sprawled against the wall like a marionette without a master, and all was silent. By a trick of chance, the clouds parted How awfully convenient of the clouds. Silver moonlight streamed down from above, catching on Jeff's breastplate. The shadow became a woman.

On her right cheek was a tattoo of a wolf's head, fangs bared. The thought came to Jeff, in an idle fashion No, stop it, stop getting in the way of your own descriptions, just let them breath, that it was lucky that he wasn't left handed. He knew the tattoo. A sign that one had pledged their life to one of the more prominent bandit clans – or had been pledged, as the case might be. The implications of this did their best to thunder through Jeff's mind. Plans of action bubbled and died as the seconds passed.

It was only when the clouds returned and the light died that Jeff could bring himself to scream Whooo, why? Is she a werewolf? Is that what's up? Am I supposed to know that? Or know wtf is going on? cause, uh, I kind of don't. In the darkness the shadow rose again, its unseen mouth open in a silent roar. The darkness around it flowed and gurgled, and their hands reached...

The guardsman turned, realizing his role in the ancient dance of predator and prey with a strained whimper. His gait had the promise of steady speed, the result of mere weeks honing his body; but without his mind to guide it, the crossbow fallen from the bandit's grip was effective enough as a tripwire. He twisted as he fell, landing roughly on his back. His breath lept from his mouth into the air, becoming no more than fog. The shadow stood over him, the stench of spilled blood invading the freshness of the snow. It glared at the fog writhing through the air as one might regard an intruder, and without a word, devoured it What is this "it"? Am I missing something or am I just horribly dumb? Or is that there's a bandit AND a shadow? without a sound.

Jeff backed away, first on his elbows, then on his hands, on his feet. The bolt, shattered on the alley wall, began to reform itself as naturally as a stray cat draws breath. Jeff felt more than saw it fly towards his face, and only instinct kept him from a brutal death. He turned the corner, and flew down the alleyway with the hounds of hell baying behind him. And just as he entered the final stretch, another shadow dropped from the roof, its silhouette clear against the beckoning light of the streetlamps.

“Loved her, y'know. Ain't said it yet.” The shadow spoke as if it expected even a moment of mercy, but Jeff was too out of his mind with fear. All the boy's eyes saw was something standing between him and the safety of light. This time, no deeper than the mouth of the alley, Jeff could see the man's face just before the club hit home. It was curious, how blank its expression was – vacant of anything more than faint surprise.

Jeff turned – the light drove the shadow away, but it glared at him nonetheless. And as he stepped backwards over the bandit's body, some part of him noting the thick clothes of a roofscraper, the shadow observed him carefully. Even as Jeff turned and ran, shouting alarm, fresh blood streaming from his truncheon, it watched. It kept its eyes on the boy, long after he'd made it to the bar, rallied the guards, and began his dance with whirling death.

And somehow Jeff knew that it would never, ever look away.

END OF CHAPTER