[Writing] Tape's short stories - The Axeman Cometh (2014/06/03)

[Tapewolf]

Pet peeve of mine. Take these three pictures. If you went to any sort of art discussion, and said "Well, they're basically the same thing, they're all three pictures of people with bowls of fruit", you'd be laughed at. In art, form matters, and literature is no less a type of artwork, so form perhaps matters even more than actual substance. And while pinning down a "right" and "wrong" is kind of hard to do, not thinking about something, and just letting it "happen" is a bit, sloppy.

Conflating laziness with a lack of understanding or experience is also rather sloppy.

It has been put to me in the past that there are four stages of competence:

1. Unconscious incompetence - Not knowing you can't do something
2. Conscious incompetence - Knowing that you have a problem with something
3. Conscious competence - Being able to do it correctly if you focus hard
4. Unconscious competence - Being able to do it correctly automatically

...I'm currently somewhere between stage 1 and 2, being dimly aware that something is somehow not right if people point it out.

Also I suspect that my use of the phrase "Just happens" has confused matters.  What I was trying to say was that I was never taught any of this stuff and have to rely on gut feelings because I have basically nothing else to go on.  What's probably happening is that I'm trying to match styles which I read a lot, but like I say, it's not a conscious process.

For instance, here are 4 different descriptions of the same tavern scene.

Right.  The first one feels horrible, probably because of the sheer number of commas in it.  I'm not sure whether this was supposed to be a 'good' example or a 'bad' example.  It seems to be told from a neutral observer viewpoint.

I can't really tell the difference in terms of narrative between this and the second example, however.  I think you'll have to help me out there.
The third example seems to be more from Keaton's viewpoint, and the last example seems to be more from the Being's viewpoint.  However it took about five readings to get this sense, and for all I know I've entirely missed the point of what you were trying to illustrate 

Now, I don't meant to say that you should ignore plot, setting, or character. In fact, if you managed to write a coherent story without any of those things, I'd be impressed. But the actual "how" the means of conveying the information to what you're envisioning to the reader, is a *vital* part of writing. If you really want to get good, you shouldn't just leave it as something unplanned.

Noted, but again, stage 1.  I'm not seeing the problem clearly enough to be able to fix it.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Conflating laziness with a lack of understanding or experience is also rather sloppy.

Point made, and taken. I didn't mean to suggest sloppiness, more one of blindness. And I'll admit, I let my own personal set of piques get in the way. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring any offense.

For instance, here are 4 different descriptions of the same tavern scene.

Right.  The first one feels horrible, probably because of the sheer number of commas in it.  I'm not sure whether this was supposed to be a 'good' example or a 'bad' example.  It seems to be told from a neutral observer viewpoint.

I can't really tell the difference in terms of narrative between this and the second example, however.  I think you'll have to help me out there.
The third example seems to be more from Keaton's viewpoint, and the last example seems to be more from the Being's viewpoint.  However it took about five readings to get this sense, and for all I know I've entirely missed the point of what you were trying to illustrate  

Noted, but again, stage 1.  I'm not seeing the problem clearly enough to be able to fix it.

Words like "good" and "bad" are generally slippery when applied to writing. I mean, outside of personal preference in reading, what's the real standard or something meant to be read as entertainment? Personally, I think all 4 pieces are terrible, being stuff I tossed together in about 20 minutes. However, they served their real purpose, to highlight different narration styles, although somewhat clumsily, since the point wasn't intuitively obvious from them. So, overall, I'd rate them as rather poor

But the first piece is me trying to be an omniscient and what I term "loud" narrator. He knows what Keaton is thinking, and he's certainly not narrating from the point of view of any of the characters, but he feels a need to fill our heads with details that aren't something that you'd be able to observe from direct presence, such as what Keaton's mood is, (teed off, not there to socialize, etc) or, to fill in background information, (long fruitless search for a healer), things which aren't directly in the frame of the story itself.

Personally, I'm not a huge fan of it, and as you noted, I tend to write it poorly when I try to work it myself. I always have trouble with how much detail to throw in, since you're really only limited by the amount of time and energy you wish to invest in the work, and how much you think your reader can stand before he or she runs off screaming. One interesting sub-style though, is where the narrator is loud, but has a distinct personality of his own, or admits ignorance to certain things, like in Gogol's Dead souls, where he makes remarks about the author writing it, and makes jokes about how he's too busy concentrating on the pretty ladies to pay attention to things that the reader might have wanted to know.

The second one was also a non-character narrator, but he's much quieter. Generally, the information given to the reader is solely in the realm of observations about fact, with no commentary about them. Looking back, I should have contrasted the first two by putting morally annotative words, "good", "evil", "cruel", "savage" etc, on the first work and not the second, bring things out more clearly. He's still all-knowing, and giving a bit of background (Keaton's long years of experience in intimidation blah blah blah), but he's not really trying to dress the story up with terms like "terminal stupidity" and the like.

The third one was yeah, directly narrated out of Keaton's point of view. Her thoughts are given, some of her background, but otherwise, the only information is what she sees. Sometimes used with an "I" narrative style, "I, Keaton, went to the bar", but especially on a forum, I thought that would breed confusion.

The fourth one is really a mess, to be honest. I started off trying to make it with a sort of whimsical, stupid narrator, who would put in things that are irrelevant or just wrong, but that took too much effort, and yeah, I switched to the being's point of view. And if it took multiple readings to get what was happening...... I think I'm going to wince and look at the ceiling for a bit.


As for the rest, I was trying to stop and utter what the bare minimum to any sort of written story would be. Generally, you need some sort of plot, some sense of action that opens and closes and brings the reader to a view that something worth reading about happened. You'll need a place and time for this plot to be contained in, and usually you need some character or group of characters to make sure that the plot moves from A to B to C. Generally, this would be considered the tripod that any piece of writing stands on, the bare minimum you absolutely *must* have. I've seen weird pieces of writing which try to do away with one of the elements, but they're usually either terrible or the sort of stuff that people only read to see "oh, look, here's a story with no characters".

Permeating all of this is probably some vague notion that word choice matters. "Keaton broke the being's elbow" sends a different sort of intonation than "Keaton shattered the being's elbow." And while I think there wouldn't be much disagreement as to there being some words appropriate for some circumstances, and others for different ones, the question of "what words should I use?" is probably the single hardest one for any work of entertainment. (Also, if you have any advice, I'd like to hear it, I always think my own stuff is garbage )

For me though, the single biggest breakthrough, was when I realized that narration style itself was a leg for the story to rest on as well, turning the tripod into a table. (This was a terrible metaphor to build on) When I set out thinking "What's going to happen, who is going to do it, and where and when will this be?" I also now really want to consider "Who is telling this, and how?" And while it won't settle all the word choice issues, I've found it really does help a tremendous deal. The guys who have had the misfortune of dealing with me on chats have probably heard one of my rants about how the Wheel of Time books suck with Sanderson writing them. One of my biggest beefs is that Jordan had a very period specific narration method. The books were set in a medieval/renaissance sort of world, and the entire thing is described in the sort of vocabulary you'd expect from someone living through that time. You don't see words like "suit", "lawyer", "doctor" "social class", and the like, whereas Sanderson uses them liberally, throwing a sort of modern tint onto a decidedly non-modern story.

Furthermore, the narrator himself tends to become a kind of character, and often will develop his own sort of personality. I mentioned earlier  that it can often be difficult to decide how much description of something is too much, but with a firm grasp of what the narrator notices or wouldn't notice, what they like and dislike, what their goals are in relating the story, you can often get something of a handle on them.


As for my final words (I actually do want to say more stuff, but I really need to get back to the schoolwork I'm actually supposed to be doing.) I really do think your writing is good. You have a very good grip on what you want to tell, which is really the harder thing to teach. If you want my advice (a dubious want, to be sure), I really think what you need next isn't so much practice as conscious practice. The next time you write something, really try to sit back and think of form, the actual method of writing you're going to be bringing to bear on the work. Maybe better, you might want to try to retake an old story, or a segment of an old story, and re-narrate it from a wildly different perspective.


Hoping whatever good points I made weren't lost in the general blather,
Corgatha.

[Inumo]

I've seen weird pieces of writing which try to do away with one of the elements... *snip*

*coughCatch-22cough*

FWIW, I liked the story. The ending was particularly creative, as I understand it, but then again, I'm not in OSaS. Trying to think of critique, despite my amateur-ness... Looking back, I find it a bit odd that Seth hadn't learned by now that 'cubi are rarely of the same attitude as him unless it furthers their own goals (again, based on my understanding of the story and character). He is 600, after all. Also, AFAIK, couldn't a 'cubi tell if there was a soul inside of a sugar ball? Once more, not the best of understanding of the race, or how the sugar ball was made, but I'd think it'd be at least noticeable to someone wary of what they were eating. Nonetheless, the lampshading worked quite well; I had to think in order to find the holes, which is not something someone does regularly when reading for entertainment.

[Tapewolf]

FWIW, I liked the story. The ending was particularly creative, as I understand it, but then again, I'm not in OSaS. Trying to think of critique, despite my amateur-ness... Looking back, I find it a bit odd that Seth hadn't learned by now that 'cubi are rarely of the same attitude as him unless it furthers their own goals (again, based on my understanding of the story and character). He is 600, after all.

Yeah.  What fooled him with Keaton was the fact that she was constantly projecting bubbly and friendly emotions to disguise what she really felt, that was a trick he hadn't really come across before.  (FWIW, Cass really is like that except when she's doing her seduction thing)

Also, AFAIK, couldn't a 'cubi tell if there was a soul inside of a sugar ball? Once more, not the best of understanding of the race, or how the sugar ball was made, but I'd think it'd be at least noticeable to someone wary of what they were eating. Nonetheless, the lampshading worked quite well; I had to think in order to find the holes, which is not something someone does regularly when reading for entertainment.

Okay, you got me.  That's an actual plot-hole

I'll read through Corg's critique later when I have more time...

[Tapewolf]

Point made, and taken. I didn't mean to suggest sloppiness, more one of blindness. And I'll admit, I let my own personal set of piques get in the way. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring any offense.

Ah, right, blindness is closer to the mark
It may well be that I'm still a bit too touchy about criticism after the business with PF recently 

Words like "good" and "bad" are generally slippery when applied to writing. I mean, outside of personal preference in reading, what's the real standard or something meant to be read as entertainment? Personally, I think all 4 pieces are terrible, being stuff I tossed together in about 20 minutes. However, they served their real purpose, to highlight different narration styles, although somewhat clumsily, since the point wasn't intuitively obvious from them. So, overall, I'd rate them as rather poor

Well, back when I was first writing CJP, Sid gave a critique about the sentence structure, specifically he was pointing out that too many sentences began with "I looked at..." "I wondered about..." and so forth.  At the time I wasn't quite sure what he was driving at, until he wrote a definitive 'bad example' to emphasize the problem.  Then it properly hit home.

But the first piece is me trying to be an omniscient and what I term "loud" narrator. He knows what Keaton is thinking, and he's certainly not narrating from the point of view of any of the characters, but he feels a need to fill our heads with details that aren't something that you'd be able to observe from direct presence, such as what Keaton's mood is, (teed off, not there to socialize, etc) or, to fill in background information, (long fruitless search for a healer), things which aren't directly in the frame of the story itself.

The second one was also a non-character narrator, but he's much quieter. Generally, the information given to the reader is solely in the realm of observations about fact, with no commentary about them. Looking back, I should have contrasted the first two by putting morally annotative words, "good", "evil", "cruel", "savage" etc, on the first work and not the second, bring things out more clearly. He's still all-knowing, and giving a bit of background (Keaton's long years of experience in intimidation blah blah blah), but he's not really trying to dress the story up with terms like "terminal stupidity" and the like.

Right, so it's basically a less verbose, less biased version of the first approach.  Makes sense.

The third one was yeah, directly narrated out of Keaton's point of view. Her thoughts are given, some of her background, but otherwise, the only information is what she sees. Sometimes used with an "I" narrative style, "I, Keaton, went to the bar", but especially on a forum, I thought that would breed confusion.

Yes.  Chronicles of Jakob Pettersohn was done first-person, the intention originally being that it was supposed to be his memoirs or something along those lines.  Anathem also did this - it was written as if it was Erasmus' journal (including a line in one chapter three which reads "Plenty of ink and leaves were available, so I began to write down the account you have been reading.").
However, I found this style particularly limiting.  In particular there was a scene just after Azrael had been murdered which simply did not work in first-person style because it was referring to things which Jakob did not know about.

As a rule I tend to go for the omniscient narrator style because I find it is more flexible.  The degree of 'loudness' varies, depending on whether I'm trying to make it amusing or dry.

As for the rest, I was trying to stop and utter what the bare minimum to any sort of written story would be. Generally, you need some sort of plot, some sense of action that opens and closes and brings the reader to a view that something worth reading about happened. You'll need a place and time for this plot to be contained in, and usually you need some character or group of characters to make sure that the plot moves from A to B to C. Generally, this would be considered the tripod that any piece of writing stands on, the bare minimum you absolutely *must* have. I've seen weird pieces of writing which try to do away with one of the elements, but they're usually either terrible or the sort of stuff that people only read to see "oh, look, here's a story with no characters".

My writing process usually starts with a basic idea of a concept, e.g. Cassandra impersonating Keaton and pretending to steal people's souls to scare them, or Jakob running scared in a cathedral while some mysterious agency picks off the clergy one by one.  The story usually starts to come together when I have a chunk of dialogue, which usually happens while I'm walking home.

One of the key pieces in this one was:

Seth: "Why would I want to do that?"

Keaton: "For your crimes, of course!  What are you, like, six or something?"

(Or something very much like this.  It was embellished as the story progressed.  But the line about him being six was definitely part of it.)

Permeating all of this is probably some vague notion that word choice matters. "Keaton broke the being's elbow" sends a different sort of intonation than "Keaton shattered the being's elbow." And while I think there wouldn't be much disagreement as to there being some words appropriate for some circumstances, and others for different ones, the question of "what words should I use?" is probably the single hardest one for any work of entertainment. (Also, if you have any advice, I'd like to hear it, I always think my own stuff is garbage )

Yes.  That, again, is something I'll spend a long time over, constantly reading and rereading it and looking for ways to improve the impact and improve legibility.  It's not something I can do according to an algorithm, though - again it's a matter of personal preference.   That said, it would be kind of interesting to write one of these stories in some kind of version control system, to keep a log of the changes and see how it evolves...

For me though, the single biggest breakthrough, was when I realized that narration style itself was a leg for the story to rest on as well, turning the tripod into a table. (This was a terrible metaphor to build on) When I set out thinking "What's going to happen, who is going to do it, and where and when will this be?" I also now really want to consider "Who is telling this, and how?" And while it won't settle all the word choice issues, I've found it really does help a tremendous deal.

Right.  Again, I usually try and default to an omniscient narrator.  With the 'Only Children' story, it could be taken as the narrator following Seth and only really knowing what Seth knows.  How much the narrator knows is a topic that I haven't really thought about until you mentioned it here, and it's something I'll definitely have to plan next time I write a story.

I do prefer this particular style because you can more easily fit in things which the main character would know, but which you probably don't, e.g. how that particular society works, or things which the character knows but are part of his or her innermost private thoughts that (s)he would never tell another soul, but without which the story would make less sense.

One of my pet peeves in terms of writing styles is where you have a character whose sole purpose is to act as the information dump.  It can be done quite well, but usually you end up with someone who comes across as a half-wit.
e.g. in the film Destination Moon they have something like two pilots in the ship, but one of them is taken ill at the last moment and has to be replaced with someone who doesn't really know what's going on.  That means that the other guy has to keep explaining things to him the whole time.

A more grating example was Lemmy, the radio op in the 1950s radio series Operation: Luna who apparently was a genius at designing communications and control systems for a spacecraft but didn't know that there was no gravity in deep space, or that space was a vacuum.

This perhaps isn't a fair comparison since for those media you'd have to either do that, break the fourth wall or have the crew remind each other, but it could have been done in a more subtle way.  Arguably my distaste of this style is one of the factors which makes the DMFA radio project stand poorly on its own, without the strips as a visual guide.

The guys who have had the misfortune of dealing with me on chats have probably heard one of my rants about how the Wheel of Time books suck with Sanderson writing them. One of my biggest beefs is that Jordan had a very period specific narration method. The books were set in a medieval/renaissance sort of world, and the entire thing is described in the sort of vocabulary you'd expect from someone living through that time. You don't see words like "suit", "lawyer", "doctor" "social class", and the like, whereas Sanderson uses them liberally, throwing a sort of modern tint onto a decidedly non-modern story.

Yes, that would annoy me too.

The next time you write something, really try to sit back and think of form, the actual method of writing you're going to be bringing to bear on the work. Maybe better, you might want to try to retake an old story, or a segment of an old story, and re-narrate it from a wildly different perspective.

I'll definitely pay more attention to the narration style next time around.  And yes, I might try reworking an older piece, if I can settle upon a new take for it.

Hoping whatever good points I made weren't lost in the general blather,

I think so.  It's certainly given me a clearer idea of what to take into account next time, which is always helpful.  Thanks.

[Tapewolf]

It's been a while, a lot longer than I had intended.  Writing aside, I spent a long time (approximately three months) waiting on proofreaders, which stalled the process considerably as I had problems with the ending and needed the feedback.  I finally finished it a week or so back and figured "Publish or be Damned" as the saying goes.

It's a two part story, so I'll probably post the conclusion in a day or so.

Thanks to Keaton, Bas and Wuff for their comments, without which the ending would likely have been pretty lousy.
Thanks also to LoneWolf, whose backstory inspired the setting.



Fishing Trip - Part One

The border collie turned a key in the old door and touched his hand to it.  There was a brief glow and the door clicked open, gliding smoothly on its hinges at his touch.  The cabin inside was small and had just two rooms in it, but for all that it was well-equipped and made as good a hunting lodge as any, affording a good view of the river that ran through the glade.

"It's been too long since we came here," Dai said, holding the door for his 17-year old coyote son, Enoch.  "I'd bring your mother, but well, it's not really her kind of thing, she always has preferred the city.  Maybe one day I'll convince her...
"Anyway, first I guess we'd better check the gear, see what's kept and what will need replacing.  We may still have some bait - if not I'll show you how to catch your own.  Once we've got settled in, I'll see if I can show you how to hunt deer later in the week."

"Sweet," Enoch said, examining a case of knives.  "Be careful with those," Dai cautioned.

"There's no beer," Enoch said, examining the crude supply cupboard.  "I had... I thought..."

"You hoped that I'd allow you to drink now that you're free from your mother's watchful eye?" Dai smirked.  "I'm afraid not.  Besides, mixing hunting and alcohol is just asking for trouble."

A couple of hours later, the two of them had lit a small fire by the riverside, just outside the cabin.  Enoch gutted and beheaded the fish, wrapped them and set them baking.  He looked around to see his father in a somewhat pensive mood, his wings drooping slightly.

"What's the matter, Dad?" he asked.  Dai flickered a smile at him, and then spoke, choosing his words carefully.

"There's another reason your mother didn't come with us," he said.  Enoch looked scared.  "What's the matter?  Is she sick?"

"No, nothing like that.  It's just... the time has come for me to explain something to you.  It's a little bit hard, and... well, we've discussed it a lot and eventually we decided that the burden of the explanation had to be mine."

"What are you saying?  You mean I'm... adopted?  Born out of wedlock?  What...?"

"No, no, you really are our child.  But in a way, that's part of the problem.  It's about us, you and me.  You see, we're not like other folk.  We're not like your mother either.  We're Creatures."

"Well, yes," Enoch said.  "We have wings.  I know how some people look at us in the street, I know not everyone is happy to see someone with wings."

"So," Dai said, shifting position, "Have you ever wondered... What kind of Creatures do you think we are?"

"I'm not sure.  Mythos, I suppose.  Part Gryphon?  I'd say part Angel, but Angels are kinda rare these days, and I've heard they can't... well, reproduce easily anymore..."

"Hold that thought," Dai said.  "Supposing we were Angels.  Would you be happy with the implications of that?"

"Well, we'd be rather powerful... oh."  Enoch started.  "We'd outlive mother..." his wings drooped too.  "Yeah, that would not be fun.  But we're not... are we?  We can't be..."

"No, we're not.  But we're not Gryphons either, I'm afraid.  We will certainly outlive your mother unless something else kills us before our time.
"Look at me, Enoch.  Do I look like someone who should have a teenage son?  I could pass for twenty-three and I will stay that way for a long, long time.  In just a few short years, your age will catch up with mine... biologically we will both be in our twenties, though not physically.  But your mother will continue to age without expensive magical aid."

Enoch whimpered, and his father hugged him.  "Now, don't take it to heart.  It's not like she'll drop dead this instant.  You are still young - we should have many happy decades left with her, and we should both be there to take care of her in her old age, which is more than she'd have if I was a Being too.  I just... I just wanted you to know."

"There's more, isn't there, Dad?" his son said.  "I can feel it."

"Yes.  I still haven't told you what kind of Creatures we are, and I'm not going to.  But I will give you a big hint."  With that, Dai released his son and edged away from him.  As Enoch watched, a small pair of wings appeared on his father's head.

"I... Incubi...?" he stuttered.  "They're almost as rare as Angels, aren't they...?"

"We," Dai corrected him.  "And no, we're not exactly common.  Not terribly popular, either.  We have a dark reputation, and that is not completely unfounded.  Many of us have done terrible things.  But it's not all bad, we are not all bad, and for what it's worth, most other Creature races have similar tales of excess anyway - they just have better PR.
"Where we live... I chose it because our kind are at least tolerated here, if not exactly loved or trusted.  And I know that soon, probably in your twenties, your headwings will appear and then my secret would certainly be exposed.  I wanted to prepare you for this.
"Yes, I will try and take you hunting this week, but more importantly, I wanted you to know about us, about our clan and our affinity, which I'm afraid is 'hate', much as I wish it were otherwise.
"Also, I will teach you how you can shield your mind.  You won't have the power to do that properly yet, but I can teach you some exercises that will give you more privacy among other thought-readers.  And if you have any questions about us, or about this new aspect to me, I will do my best to answer those too."

"How old are you?  Is your name really Dai?  Are you really how you seem?"

"Yes, this is my true form.  I have only hidden my head-wings... I haven't tried to take another's place as some 'Cubi do.  That never works out well, not in the long term.  And for your information, I'm a little over 500 years old."

"H-have you ever... eaten... souls?", his son asked.

"Yes," the collie replied.  "At the Academy, when I was taught how to do it.  Does this disturb you?" his son went very quiet.

"Yes.  Yes, it does," Enoch said at last.

"Good.  I was afraid you might think it was cool or something.  Stealing souls is not 'cool' at all, it's a very serious matter indeed.  It's sometimes possible to reverse death to get someone back... but when the soul itself has been destroyed... there is nothing left to get back." he went silent for some time.

"Look, I was young and arrogant at the time.  I wish I hadn't, it is a stain upon my own soul.  One of many," he muttered as an afterthought, and then glanced at the sky.
"Anyway, it's coming on to rain, and the fish should be ready by now.  We'd better get back to the cabin - we can talk more there."

So saying, he reached into the fire and drew out the two wrapped fish with his bare hands.

* * *

Fish bones lay on the plate in a neat pile as Enoch heated up some water to wash them with.  There was a small wood-stove for when it rained, but it wasn't fired.  Instead the coyote stirred the pot with one hand, his finger glowing red hot and boiling the water around it.  He was still very young as 'Cubi go - even young for a Being - but old enough and powerful enough to know simple defensive spells.  Sometimes they came in useful for other things too.

Enoch's ears pricked up slightly and he turned towards Dai.  "Did you hear something?" he asked.  "Thought I heard a crack or something in the distance."  He looked at out the window and saw two figures coming out of the forest.  "Oh, hunters," he said.  Suddenly the window nearest to him cracked, a small shower of glass leapt away from it leaving the tell-tale pattern of a bullet punched through the window.

"Get down," the Border snapped.  Enoch obeyed without hesitation.

Dai unlocked a box with a wave of one hand and drew out a rifle.  His body was glowing very faintly and there was a strangely cold expression in his eyes.  "I said I was going to take you hunting this week," he said.  "It looks like today's the day."

"But... they're people!" Enoch squeaked.  "You can't do this... we can't hunt them, 'Cubi or not!"

"That's right," Dai said, affection cutting through the stress.  He smiled briefly at his son and continued to load the rifle.  "They are people and I don't want to fight them, but I have to.  We can argue morality until the crack of doom, but they're going to murder us both if we don't do something to stop them."

"Bandits?  I thought the forests had been cleared of those..."

"No, assassins.  Bounty-hunters, really.  I'm not quite sure what they call themselves, but they're after me and they'll surely kill you too if they find you here.  Either way, this is an unprovoked attack and we are well within our rights to kill them."

"How do you know?  What if they're just huntsmen, like us?  What if that was a stray shot?"

"Oh, I know, all right.  Those two caught me last time, said there was a price upon my soul.  I only just got away then and they won't repeat that mistake.  I was too soft - I thought I could sweet-talk my way out of it and I was wrong.  That's a mistake I can't afford to repeat either, unfor-"

An explosion shook the entire structure of the cabin.  It creaked but stayed firm save for the damaged window which had been blown inwards in the blast.  As they picked themselves up, dust and particles of wood fell from the ceiling.

With a sigh, the incubus healed a cut on his arm from the glass and made his way to window, punching away the fragments and kneeling in front of it.  From nowhere obvious, he produced what appeared to be some kind of rocket launcher.  There was a loud retort from some yards away and when Enoch next looked out he could see a large, smoking crater where two of the assassins had stood.  There was nothing else, save for a third man clutching his side and fleeing.

"Holy..." Enoch gurgled.  "Great Gods, Dad... you've kibbled them!  Now we'll be up on a terrorism charge!"  Dai knelt with his eyes closed, muttering a short prayer for the men he'd just killed.  Finally he opened one eye.

"They started it," he said.  "I didn't cast the first grenade, they did and that makes it self-defence even if we ignore that sniper round.  If it does come to trial I will gladly share my memories with the court.  Be that as it may, we'd be dead now if I hadn't warded the cabin against explosives.  Pity about the window, though..."

Enoch collapsed into a chair and buried his head in his hands.  "Look Dad... I thought I was in over my head when you told me what I was.  But this..." he gestured feebly at the rocket launcher.  "Never mind where you got that from, just tell me truly... what is this all about?!  Who is after us and why?"

"They want to kill me," Dai said.  "You see... Centuries ago... I did a very terrible thing.  Not a soul-stealing... I'm not sure I really want to talk about it, even now."

"I can't believe this!  What could you have done?  You've always been a good father to me..."

Dai Looked at his son and a tear formed in one eye.  "Thanks, kid.  I'm glad you think so.  I just wish I could have... well, but it's too late now.  I ruined someone's life and... and he's the one who sent the bounty hunters after us."

"What's his name?"

"Samuel.  He's been hunting me for decades,  Probably longer, but it's only recently he found out where I was."

"Centuries ago... he must be a Creature, then."

"Listen, Enoch... if something happens to me, I want you to know this.  You weren't my first child."

"What are you saying...?  That I've got a brother out there somewhere?  A sister?"

"Brother... half-brother, I guess.  He was my first child and... well, I didn't do a very good job of raising him.  Strike that, I did a frigging terrible job.  I never really looked out for him, I always thought of myself first... then one day... Ugh, I don't want to think about it.

"I got drunk.  Yes, that's the reason we won't allow alcohol in the house.  It's not some religious belief, it's not your mother's rule, it's mine.  With a hate affinity, it... it really lets go of you," he said, and began to sob.  "I don't remember what I said now, but it ruined them... my son left home and my wife killed herself.
"It was like surfing, like riding on the back of a giant wave, harnessing its power to feed your own exhilaration.  It was such a rush, like the best sex you've ever had... and in those few minutes of selfish pleasure, I destroyed a family I had raised for twenty years."

"I want," the Border said, and choked.  "I want you to swear that you'll never get drunk.  No matter what the peer pressure, it will ruin you and the people you love.  Just don't do it."  Enoch nodded, shocked.

"I never thought I'd marry again, but then I met your mother.  And one thing led to another... I wanted to make sure that you had a happy childhood.  I guess... I guess I was trying to compensate for before..."

Enoch gaped for a second as the grenade came in through the window and bounced under the table.  There was no time to run, no time to throw it back.  "I love you, Dad," he said.  Then there was nothingness.

To be continued

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

... Interesting place to leave it.


(damn cliffhangers)

[Tapewolf]

... Interesting place to leave it.
(damn cliffhangers)

Yes, it did feel a bit lame leaving it there...

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Point of terminology. I'm going to refer to the section before the ellipses as "part one" and the section after them as "Part two." Also, I've been having trouble with my spacebar, which is annoying for post-writing.

Part one does a whole lot of telling, not showing. And there are odd details missing, or at least not given all at once.


Take Dai, who seems to be the protagonist here. He's a

"Border collie"

right from the beginning, and using a key gives him some anthropomorphism, although it's never actually said. We don't actually find out he has wings until after they catch some fish, (which is also more implied than stated, although that one I'm having a better visceral reaction to; let's face it, fishing is dull) despite the fact that unlike the headwings, his backwings should be clearly visible to even a casual observer.

Or when Enoch tells him that there's part of the reason his mother didn't come, he "looked scared". We have no way of knowing that, other than the narrator directly divulging the information. You can achieve the same effect by throwing a description that leaves a clear implication, something like "Enoch flinched at the sudden change of topic to his mother, and he recalled the time she fell ill last autumn, as his mind wandered down dark paths." You could do something similar to convey Dai's revulsion at his clan's history and affinity, tell some kind of horrific story, while vividly describing facial contortions, his hands clenching and unclenching as he paces around the fire, or whatever other modes of describing stress.


That being said, the awkwardness that Dai has about soul-eating struck me as very endearing. He sounds a *lot* like a parent trying to keep his kids off of drugs.


That being said, the second half was *great*. Action punctuating the dialog, people actually performing actions and the narrator taking a back seat; about the only oddity I can dig up is that after Dai shoots the rocket launcher, there's

"There was nothing else, save for a third man clutching his side and fleeing."

Which there's nothing wrong with, but given that you've tended to describe characters by their anthro species, it gives the impression that the third assailant was an actual human, which I'm guessing is not what you're going for.

There are a few oddities plot-wise, but I'll hold off until I read the rest of it. On the whole, a very engaging piece, but it's still a mite unpolished. Eagerly awaiting part two. (And please, I know I come across as brusque, I'm bad at giving criticism, I really do enjoy your work, but at the same time I do think there are improvements that can be made.)

[Tapewolf]

Part one does a whole lot of telling, not showing. And there are odd details missing, or at least not given all at once.

Yeah, that's basically what happens.  They go fishing and talk.  It's not like they're out looking for maidens to rescue or something.  I think of that part as the prologue, really.  It's setting the scene and mentioning some of the races and their traits - I'm hoping that it would make some sense to a non-DMFA reader.

Take Dai, who seems to be the protagonist here. He's a "Border collie" right from the beginning, and using a key gives him some anthropomorphism, although it's never actually said. We don't actually find out he has wings until after they catch some fish, (which is also more implied than stated, although that one I'm having a better visceral reaction to; let's face it, fishing is dull) despite the fact that unlike the headwings, his backwings should be clearly visible to even a casual observer.

I'm not quite sure how else I'd have handled the fact that they're DMFA races (i.e. not feral dogs), but revealing the race piece by piece was a design decision - in part, because Enoch doesn't fully appreciate it himself.  

FWIW my father never took me on fishing trips - he has often said that fishing would be a lot less popular if fish were fuzzy and screamed when you dragged them out of the water, and my mother would fantasize about running down the banks of the Thames at Lechlade and pushing the anglers into the river one by one.  So no, I'm not exactly in a good position to describe it in detail ;-)

Or when Enoch tells him that there's part of the reason his mother didn't come, he "looked scared". We have no way of knowing that, other than the narrator directly divulging the information. You can achieve the same effect by throwing a description that leaves a clear implication, something like "Enoch flinched at the sudden change of topic to his mother, and he recalled the time she fell ill last autumn, as his mind wandered down dark paths."

I can probably improve it by adding a description of what makes him look scared, but writing a flashback sequence seems overkill to me.  It can be done well, but in this case it would seem unwieldy and I'm not convinced it's necessary.

How about the fact that Enoch is described as being 17?  Do we really need a flashback of his birthday cake or him getting his provisional driving license or something?  For something vitally important, yes, some narrative device to demonstrate things can be a good thing.  But for things like this or the fact that his mother is not with them, frankly I think it would just be a distraction that would get in the way of the main story.

You could do something similar to convey Dai's revulsion at his clan's history and affinity, tell some kind of horrific story, while vividly describing facial contortions, his hands clenching and unclenching as he paces around the fire, or whatever other modes of describing stress.

Noted.

One of the things I did do with this story a couple of weeks back was read through your comments on the last story.  I tried to treat the narrator as if they were a third, invisible member of the fishing trip.  I think I did a reasonable job of restricting it to things which someone there would notice.  Part 1 was already pretty clean in that regard, but unfortunately part 2 breaks that model a bit near the end.  I'll have another look and see if I can improve it but right now the narrator does see into Enoch's thoughts somewhat and I can't really figure out how to avoid it without destroying the story or stopping it from making sense.

"There was nothing else, save for a third man clutching his side and fleeing."

Which there's nothing wrong with, but given that you've tended to describe characters by their anthro species, it gives the impression that the third assailant was an actual human, which I'm guessing is not what you're going for.

No, but I couldn't think of a way around that without describing them in more detail than is required.  I notice you haven't suggested an alternative either ;-)
"Figure" might work in this instance, but finding a way to describe them generically that also makes sense to the casual reader is not an easy thing.

[Tapewolf]

Okay, here's the conclusion of the story, hope you've enjoyed it.

Fishing Trip, part 2

Enoch's eyes opened blearily.  He quivered as he remembered the last moments - some type of explosive device had detonated, smashing him out of consciousness like a hammer.  It should have killed me.
For a moment he thought it had been a dream, but his wrists and ankles were bound and he was lying on the floor of the cabin, which was still standing.  It must have been some sort of stun grenade, he thought.

"Of course it was," a voice said, answering his unspoken question.  "You don't think I'd want to kill my dear Dai quite that quickly?"

"Samuel...?" Enoch asked, and looked up.  Before him was an elegant specimen of snow leopard, dressed in a black leather trench-coat with holes cut into the back so as not to interfere with his large, feathery wings.  He was holding an ornate blade in one hand, the edge serrated in an intricate design.

"Yes, and I'm glad you are both awake.  I was beginning to worry."

"Sam," Dai croaked.  "Do what you will, but leave Enoch alone... he's just a boy!"

"Yes, I will certainly spare your young 'friend'," Samuel said, loosing Enoch's bonds with a single swipe of one wing-tentacle.  "Not for your sake, but because of his youth.  As you say, he's just a boy."

Enoch staggered to his feet and then knelt, checking his father for injuries.  "I'd leave now, sonny," the leopard advised.  "You won't want to see this, because I'm going to hurt him.  Badly.  See, I've waited centuries to pay him back for what he did to me," he cackled, and his wings twisted.  Wings became tentacles that became blades, corkscrews, instruments of torture.  He turned back to the bound canine.

"And I'm going to make sure it lasts, Dai!  You hear me?!  You're not going to die quickly, nor easily.  And when you're on the brink of death I shall heal you fully and begin again, and again.  But even this is only a fraction of what you truly deserve!"

"No!" Enoch yelled, snatching at the hunting rifle his father had loaded earlier and flicking off the safety.  He aimed at the leopard's head.

"Look - stay out of this, kid, it doesn't concern you," Samuel snapped, knocking the gun from the young coyote's grasp and pushing him aside with a tentacle that he had blunted for the purpose.

"The hell it doesn't!  I won't let you kill my father!"

Samuel froze, stunned.  Then his expression twisted into a snarling mask of rage and fury.  "You did it again!" he screamed at Dai.  "I swore I wouldn't let you destroy another innocent like you destroyed me!"  His eyes screwed up and taking a deep breath, he slowly mastered himself.

"Listen, kid," he continued, looking at Enoch and taking a softer, more reasonable voice - in any other situation it could have been called 'amiable'.
"Listen.  It looks like I got here just in time.  I'm sorry this had to happen while you were around to see it, but it's better that it happens now, before he can fuck you up too.
"If you don't want to stay and watch, then go.  If you insist I will make this quick for him, quicker than he deserves, but he has to die.  Believe me, kid, your 'dear old dad' is a monster and his time has come."

"Monster...?!  How can you say that?!  You sent assassins to kill us both!  You're trying to murder my father and you wanted to torture him to death!  How can you call him a monster?!"

Samuel stared at him and shook his head.  "Yeah, I'm sorry about sending those men.  Using live rounds and frag grenades... what were they thinking?!
"They weren't supposed to kill either of you - I wanted Dai alive and I didn't know you existed.  But as for killing him..." he looked at Enoch pityingly.  "Please, you must understand - this is for your own good!  However cruel it may seem at first, you will get over it and I'll be doing you a favour in the long run.  If you want a father, I'll adopt you myself.  I can be all the things he never was..."

"No!" Enoch screamed.  "I love him!  Don't you understand?  I couldn't ask for more in a father!  And if you do kill him, I swear... that as soon as I am strong and wise enough, I'll come after you myself and put an end to your evil!"

The incubus faltered.  "M-my... evil?"  He closed his eyes and probed with his mind.  As if sensing this, Dai let his own mind-shield fall and images washed through Samuel's mind, of Dai cradling Enoch in his arms... bouncing him on one knee... bringing birthday gifts for his wide-eyed son... of Enoch on fishing trips with him...   The memories were not just his father's, Enoch too had not yet learned to shield his own mind properly and Sam realised that it was all true.

His tentacles relaxed and the sword fell to the ground.  The snow leopard began to sob.  "I... I was trying to fight evil..."

"Don't you see?" Dai said softly.  "I was young, stupid and halfway out of my mind.   I did a bad job raising you, I know it and I'm ashamed.  But I swore it wouldn't happen again and I'd like to think that I... I learned from my mistakes.  Maybe I do deserve to die for what I did to you, but listen!  Not just for my sakes, but for the boy too...
"And for your children.  If you kill me now, you'll be depriving Enoch of his loving father and he'll want to avenge me.  And a century or so from now, when he's strong enough he will and he'll deprive your child of his or her father, and this stupid cycle of vengeance will never, ever end!
"Think what our Founder would say if she was alive to see this... It's not even like we're rival clans!  Is this kind of pointless, idiotic slaughter really what you want ...?"

The leopard did not answer.  He bolted, slamming the door open and running off into the dusk.

Dai yelled, "No, Sam!  Come back!", but all they heard was an echo of his voice and sobbing that faded into the distance.

"Do you think he'll return?" Enoch asked, cutting at his father's bonds with one of the knives - he did not trust the fractal-edged monstrosity that Sam had wielded.  For all they knew it was enchanted with some terrible soul-stealing curse.

"I'm not sure," the Border replied, worriedly.  "I think we're out of immediate danger now, but I really don't know what he'll do.  I'll stand guard tonight, but you'd better sort out a bed for yourself.  I might not need to sleep, but you will for a few years yet."

* * *

Nothing was heard from Sam during the night, nor the following morning.  With a certain amount of trepidation and a hunting rifle, Dai finally led his son out of the cabin and the headed off into the forest.

"What about Sam?" Enoch asked finally.  "Do you think he'll be back?  Should we tell the authorities?"

"I don't think so," Dai said.  "I'm not sure what they'd make of a family feud between two incubi.  They might let him run around unchecked, decide it's none of their business and that my death would be worth it just to make Sam go away.  Of course they might even arrest me too.  And I'm not sure that would help."  He sighed and put down the weapon for a moment.
"Look, if Sam wants me dead, he'll kill me.  Maybe I deserve it.  All I know is that I promised to take you hunting, and if today is the last day of my life, I want to live it as fully as I can.  If I die knowing that I finally made a decent father, I will die happy."

"Don't say that!" Enoch protested.  "Surely there must be something we can do!"

"I'm not sure it's really something that's in our hands," Dai shrugged.  "Maybe you're right, maybe I should go to the police.  I'll think it over tonight.
But right now?  You're going to need food."

Some hours later the two of them returned, a feral boar slung over Enoch's back.  "I'll clean out the fire," Dai said.  "You go in and fetch..." he trailed off as he saw the state of the cabin.
When they had left, the place had been a mess - stained with debris and pockmarked from the fire-fights and grenade attacks, one window shattered.  Now it was almost pristine.  Someone had evidently been very busy cleaning it up, repairing the damage.

"Sam...?" Enoch whispered furtively.

"I think so," Dai replied.  "You wait here, I'll go and check."

"No!" the coyote hissed, dropping the pig's carcass to the ground.  "He's not after me!  You stay here... I'll go!"

"But it might be a trap.  Either he's inside or outside..." he broke off as a winged figure emerged from the building.  A snow leopard incubus.

"Sam...?" the Border called out softly.  As the leopard turned to look at him, a flicker of anger played across his face for a moment but it passed and he looked at the ground.

"What do you want now, monster?" Enoch demanded, placing himself between the two of them.  "Decided you want to kill us both?  Come to collect the set?"

Dai put a warning hand on his shoulder and the coyote stood down.  "Let him speak," he said.  "I can't imagine this is easy for him.  Don't make it any harder."

"I don't suppose you'll find this easy to believe," Sam said at last with a glance at Enoch, "But I never wanted to be a monster.  I just wanted to put wrong to right.  I thought what I was doing was for the greater good.  Perhaps it is, I'm still not sure."

"It's been a long time," he said after a long pause.  "Many centuries.  It's given me a sense of purpose, a mission, some kind of a goal to achieve in life.  And now... now you... Dai has finally found a way to take that from me too, like he took everything else from me.  I want to hate you for that,  hate him... but somehow, somehow I can't.  My victory would have gone cold in time anyway.

"What are going to do?" Enoch demanded, leaping back in front of his father.

"I'm going to step back," he said.  "I'm going to think things over.  I can't kill your... our father now.  There seems to be a good thing going between you and I won't be the one to ruin that.  I... it would make me into everything I wanted to destroy.

"I'm so confused, I have to stop and decide what I should do next.  But what I will do... I will watch," he said, and looked Dai squarely in the eye.  "I will watch you.  And if you are false, if ever you break my little brother's heart like you broke mine..." he smiled unpleasantly.  "Well.  If that happens, you won't last the night."

Enoch stood aside, and Samuel turned away.  The snow leopard strode off into the forest.  As he reached the edge of the cover he glanced back one last time.

"So long, Dad," he said.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

*applauds* And a nice one it is too. I especially like the biblical style names for a story that is essentially a twist on the supplantation themes, that the elder dispossessed son is *grateful* that the father shows more feeling to the younger son. What made you pick the names of Enoch and Samuel? (Dai being a phoenome of baby-talk "dad" reinforces the whole theme, assuming I'm barking up the right tree).


There are a few narrative bits that don't make a whole lot of sense to me, though. Coming in from the last story, someone throws in a stun grenade, knocks Enoch and Dai out, and then Samuel comes in and ties the two of them up, only to immediately release Enoch. The boy was unconscious at the start, so not a threat; I suppose Samuel could be waiting to evaluate whether or not it'd be safe to let his half-brother out before freeing him, but he doesn't really wait long at all before releasing his prisoner, and it begs the question as to why tie him up in the first place.

I do like to think that it's because Samuel really doesn't have the stomach to butcher his father, that he can plot and even half-execute premeditated violence, but look at how much time he spends ranting, about how he's not really the bad one here, and how much his father deserves a painful death, instead of just starting to heat up the irons and cut with the serrated blades. Is he trying to convince himself as much as anything?

Hopping back to narrative form, it's interesting, there almost seems to be a dual climax to the story, once where Dai and Enoch share their thoughts to convince Samuel that the old man isn't such a bad guy, and the second encounter after the boar hunt. Now, obviously, they're connected, really almost a delayed effect of the action in the "first" climax. I can't think of anything offhand I've read like that before, and it's fascinating.

There is, however, still a lot of narrative telling as opposed to showing. I want to apologize for being unclear earlier, I'm not talking about the heavy dialog. If you're interested, I can show you my very most recent piece, which is literally roughly a page long monologue from the narrator to a parole board. (Impromptu writing exercise, and long story. Also, it's really bad.) I'm referring more to an informational dump by the narrator, unfiltered by the characters. I think the best sentence for illustrating what I'm saying (poorly) is this one.

"Listen, kid," he continued, looking at Enoch and taking a softer, more reasonable voice - in any other situation it could have been called 'amiable'.

"Listen kid," is an actual words by a character, and the next  nine words are all basic description of what Samuel is doing. He looks at Enoch, and he softens his voice. Then it becomes "More reasonable, and would be 'amiable in any other situation." Both of those are normative statements, or even a value judgment. At that point, the narrator is doing more than simply describing what's going on, he's adding a slant to what's going on.


Now, I'm going to reverse everything I said previously, a loud narrator who "tells" isn't necessarily a bad thing. I think I cited it previously, Nikolai Gogol's "Dead Souls" does an excellent job with a narrator who is informing us of whether people are kindly or mean, stupid or brilliant, and whatever other adjectives, without letting us see those characters perform actions which would lead to an establishment of those traits. It's also a brilliant work of fiction.

Furthermore, in this case, I really think the line you wrote works. It establishes Samuel as someone who is not only reasonable, but a sort of gentleness, that for all of his rage against Dai, he's not spilling it over to people connected to his father. But be careful how you use it, unless you really want to go full blown the other way, where the narrator is a carried away character in his own right, who is very, very clearly playing with the facts as given. (Which I heartily recommend you try at least once. It's a *lot* of fun to write like that, although it can be hard to follow.) It can be very jarring to read something that's kind of half and half of information given by declaration and information demonstrated through narrative.

Still, overall very nice, and I think stronger than the earlier part by a good deal. On a strictly personal preference level, it's a bit sugary for my taste, but that's a purely personal preference coming from someone who is admittedly an extremely dark writer for his own stuff.

Hoping to see more of your work,
Corgatha Taldorthar.

[Tapewolf]

*applauds* And a nice one it is too. I especially like the biblical style names for a story that is essentially a twist on the supplantation themes, that the elder dispossessed son is *grateful* that the father shows more feeling to the younger son. What made you pick the names of Enoch and Samuel? (Dai being a phoenome of baby-talk "dad" reinforces the whole theme, assuming I'm barking up the right tree).

I struggled with the names at first, actually.  Early drafts had '??' instead of the names throughout the text.
I think 'Enoch' was the first name I settled on, 'Dai' came late one night - I got out of bed and scrawled a memo to myself.  It's actually a Welsh name (derived from Dafydd/David according to Wikipedia), and I think it may also be the Welsh word for 'two' but I'm not 100% sure about that.

I really had problems with the elder son.  'Samuel' just came out of the blue and it stuck.  Taking Amber's (and others) observations that there is a dearth of female characters in my stories I was very tempted to make him into Samantha, but that broke his offer to replace Dai as Enoch's father and I really, really wanted to keep that.
Swapping gender of the other two wouldn't really work as the fishing trip thing is typically more of a father-son exercise.

There are a few narrative bits that don't make a whole lot of sense to me, though. Coming in from the last story, someone throws in a stun grenade, knocks Enoch and Dai out, and then Samuel comes in and ties the two of them up, only to immediately release Enoch. The boy was unconscious at the start, so not a threat; I suppose Samuel could be waiting to evaluate whether or not it'd be safe to let his half-brother out before freeing him, but he doesn't really wait long at all before releasing his prisoner, and it begs the question as to why tie him up in the first place.

He couldn't really tell until Enoch was concious.  A larger plot-hole is that if the ropes were strong/enchanted enough to restrain an angry 'Cubi, Sam should have had more difficulty cutting them.  But that's not something I'm terribly worried about - they may have been enchanted such that only the owner can cut them like that.

I do like to think that it's because Samuel really doesn't have the stomach to butcher his father, that he can plot and even half-execute premeditated violence, but look at how much time he spends ranting, about how he's not really the bad one here, and how much his father deserves a painful death, instead of just starting to heat up the irons and cut with the serrated blades. Is he trying to convince himself as much as anything?

That's mostly him wallowing in his emotions and/or trying to stir up Dai's.  Especially in view of Monday's DMFA [1207], 'Cubi just don't seem like a race who would plot for hundreds of years to kill someone and then just shoot them in the head while their back was turned.  Angels might, but 'Cubi are going to try and make a meal of it, no pun intended.

Hopping back to narrative form, it's interesting, there almost seems to be a dual climax to the story, once where Dai and Enoch share their thoughts to convince Samuel that the old man isn't such a bad guy, and the second encounter after the boar hunt. Now, obviously, they're connected, really almost a delayed effect of the action in the "first" climax. I can't think of anything offhand I've read like that before, and it's fascinating.

Yes, the ending was hard to figure out.  Stopping it at the point where Sam realises that Dai isn't evil incarnate was one possibility, but I wanted to take the idea a bit further.  It would have seemed like a cop-out, frankly.
At the same time, having them all get back together would have been too soppy.  Wuff reasoned that Sam wouldn't be able to execute a 180 degree emotional turn like that, at least not immediately and that he'd need a lot of time to think it over.

One of my ideas was that they came back to the repaired cabin to find Sam in it, all apologetic-like, but again, I didn't want to make it soppy.  It was probably Wuff (or maybe Bas) who came up with the idea of Sam saying that he still hates Dai, but he cannot ruin Enoch's life so he's going to watch from a distance.  I adopted that and mellowed it slightly to try and give the impression that Dai's prodigal son may someday return, but without making it definite (and certainly not a snap decision).

There is, however, still a lot of narrative telling as opposed to showing. I want to apologize for being unclear earlier, I'm not talking about the heavy dialog. If you're interested, I can show you my very most recent piece, which is literally roughly a page long monologue from the narrator to a parole board. (Impromptu writing exercise, and long story. Also, it's really bad.) I'm referring more to an informational dump by the narrator, unfiltered by the characters. I think the best sentence for illustrating what I'm saying (poorly) is this one.

"Listen, kid," he continued, looking at Enoch and taking a softer, more reasonable voice - in any other situation it could have been called 'amiable'.


"Listen kid," is an actual words by a character, and the next  nine words are all basic description of what Samuel is doing. He looks at Enoch, and he softens his voice. Then it becomes "More reasonable, and would be 'amiable in any other situation." Both of those are normative statements, or even a value judgment. At that point, the narrator is doing more than simply describing what's going on, he's adding a slant to what's going on.

Yes, I knew you'd pick up on that one.  Like I said earlier, the first part is relatively clean in terms of the narrator not making judgements.  I tried really hard to keep it that way, because I took from your critique of 'Time & Date' that it was a more desirable narrative style - and I'm still not honestly sure if you're taking that style as good or bad.  It seems a little sterile to me.

However, in the second part I simply could not do it.  Case in point is the line about the knife looking monstrous - that is a judgement by the narrator.  I tried to rationalise it by telling myself that the knife was pretty evil looking and that the narrator (as an invisible but present observer) would come to that conclusion.
But at the end of the day, the reason I did that was because I didn't want to be vague about it - it could be a carving knife, or a butter-knife for all a clinical description would say, and that really doesn't get across the point that Sam wants to cause as much pain to Dai as he possibly can without frying his nervous system (at least, not to begin with).

Now, I'm going to reverse everything I said previously, a loud narrator who "tells" isn't necessarily a bad thing. I think I cited it previously, Nikolai Gogol's "Dead Souls" does an excellent job with a narrator who is informing us of whether people are kindly or mean, stupid or brilliant, and whatever other adjectives, without letting us see those characters perform actions which would lead to an establishment of those traits. It's also a brilliant work of fiction.

I will try to remember to look that one up.

Furthermore, in this case, I really think the line you wrote works. It establishes Samuel as someone who is not only reasonable, but a sort of gentleness, that for all of his rage against Dai, he's not spilling it over to people connected to his father. But be careful how you use it, unless you really want to go full blown the other way, where the narrator is a carried away character in his own right, who is very, very clearly playing with the facts as given. (Which I heartily recommend you try at least once. It's a *lot* of fun to write like that, although it can be hard to follow.) It can be very jarring to read something that's kind of half and half of information given by declaration and information demonstrated through narrative.

Many, many years ago (20, I think) I was developing a text adventure set aboard a starship, where the player was the captain.  It didn't really get anywhere, but what I do remember clearly was that I found myself describing the technical parts of the ship a lot.  Lots of dials and controls, and I very quickly ran out of ways to describe them.  Then I had a brainwave - what if the captain was slightly mad..?

The lower down the ship the player went - and the further away from the security of the bridge - the more coloured and paranoid the descriptions became.  So it went from "Racks of dials and controls stand before you", through "Banks of dials and controls sit impassively as if watching you", and on the lowest levels it had things like "Monstrous racks of dials and controls leer at you menacingly, making you feel uncomfortable."

Still, overall very nice, and I think stronger than the earlier part by a good deal. On a strictly personal preference level, it's a bit sugary for my taste, but that's a purely personal preference coming from someone who is admittedly an extremely dark writer for his own stuff.

Well, I'm a sucker for a redemption story.

[VAE]

I bet Samuel's theme song is "Every breath you take"
Anyways, nice story .... hard to say anything else after Corgatha's wall of text
Perhaps that it is nice seeing Samuel being able to re-evaluate in face of evidence... even with a mind-dump i would see many others going "ah, he's setting it up, just like he did with me" or something of equally tortured logic, especially if they are all cubi.
Main reason for writing though... the starship equipment descriptions were hillarious. Reminds me of "you are in a maze of twisty passages ,all alike" and "you are in a maze of twisty passages , all different"

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Main reason for writing though... the starship equipment descriptions were hillarious. Reminds me of "you are in a maze of twisty passages ,all alike" and "you are in a maze of twisty passages , all different"

"Different all twisty a of in maze are you, passages little."

[Tapewolf]

"Different all twisty a of in maze are you, passages little."

Any comments on the story itself, now you've presumably read the whole thing?

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Well, I thought I _was_ commenting on the story. ;-]


More seriously, it was an interesting ending. Other than that, I think Corgatha covered everything I might have wanted to say, although I will admit I don't agree with all of his points. I'd go into more detail, but what with being at work and stuff...

[Tapewolf]

Fear's Child

The vixen looked up from her book and turned around with a start.  There was a figure behind her, sitting cross-legged on the end of her bed.  Like her, he was vulpine.  Unlike her, his head was crowned with two small, feathery wings and there was a larger pair protruding from his back.

"Hello, Lisa," he said simply.

"Begone, Demon!" she replied, making a gesture to ward off evil.  The creature merely shrugged at her.

"You aren't the first Being woman to have an incubus or succubus visit them in the night with questionable intentions and you won't be the last.  You may as well get used to it - pointing at me won't help."

"Begone!  My soul belongs to the gods," she cried.  "You shall not have it."

The incubus coughed politely, and for a few moments his posture became erect and almost regal.

"A word of advice, Lisa.  Preventing me from destroying you is really not that simple.  Many Beings far more pious than you have had their souls devoured - all their prayers and entreaties to the gods availed them not at all..."
He looked away.  "...Sometimes their souls were destroyed because of their faith," he added, and for a moment or two looked small and vulnerable.

Lisa took the advantage, reaching for a vicious-looking combat knife that she kept in her desk drawer.  There were numerous others scattered around the house as well.  Lisa's home was a little out of the way and secluded by bushes and trees.  Close enough for her to commute to work, but far enough away that no-one would hear her scream if she was attacked in the night.  Her knives had sent at least one Creature packing already.

Seizing the weapon, she brandished it threateningly; the incubus removed it from her, grabbing it by the blade with a glowing bare hand.  The vixen made a gesture of blessing upon herself, fear showing for the first time.  The incubus studied the knife intently, turning it over in his hands.  Finally he looked up at Lisa and his expression was difficult to read.

"Have you been sent here to kill me?" she whispered.

"Do you want me to?" the Creature asked, doubtfully.  The vixen shook her head quickly.
With a sigh the intruder placed the knife under the bed and flicked it out of reach with a tentacle extruded from one of his wings.

"Look," he said, "That's really not why I'm here.  I don't want you to die and I don't want your soul.  I want your body."

"Rape?!" Lisa cried, edging away.  "You mean to violate me!"

"We-e-ll, I did wonder," the fox confessed.  "Just for a little while.  I mean, it would be so easy.  I could become the man of your dreams, I could realise your most secret fantasies.  Well, maybe not the one about the beans and the lycra.  But yes, I did wonder about seducing you and placing you under my spell.  You would happily do anything I pleased, even kill yourself if you thought it would please me.
"Or, I could stun you and do it while you were unconcious.  But you know what?  All that stuff is nasty and besides, they'd be able to identify me from my DNA.  No, I think my way is far better."

"And what way is that, monster?" the Being asked, suspiciously.

"Consensual rape," he said.  The vixen blinked and said nothing.

"I have drawn up a contract.  Let me explain the situation," the fox said, raising one hand to silence her just as her mouth opened to protest.  "My name is Ikaarion.  I am the head of a large-ish and, uh, somewhat notorious clan of incubi and succubi.  But you see, something is about to happen."

"Something wonderful?" the Being asked sarcastically.

"I hope so.  But it might destroy me," Daryil admitted.  "I don't consider that to be terribly wonderful and my clan would consider it an absolute disaster, but then again, we're kind of biased.
"I do think I might be able to beat the odds, otherwise I'd be foolish even to consider this, but I'm sure the last few people to try it felt the same and they're dead now.  But then again, they never had the computing support and other preparations that I have been making...

"I'm rambling," he apologised.  "But the point is, even if this gamble of mine succeeds perfectly, I will no longer be able to reproduce.  It is part of the price I will pay.  And that brings us back to... well, us, I suppose.  You see, before this event takes place, I wish to father a child and I offer you the opportunity to assist me in this."

"Let me get this straight.  You want me to bear your child...?"

"Yes.  You have a lot in your favour.  A little too religious for my taste perhaps, but everything else is perfect.  You even resemble me," he added.

"No.  Go away."

"I haven't finished talking," the fox said irritably, and both pairs of wings fanned out threateningly.  "You will hear me out.  Otherwise I'll get angry, and that would be bad.  My kind is not known for our impulse control and I promise you, you don't want to provoke me."  He clicked his fingers for emphasis and a small flame burned between his fingers.  The Being gulped and the flame extinguished itself.

"That's better," he said, and his voice became calmer, almost wheedling.  "Honestly, all I want is for you to listen to my proposal, nothing more than that.  When I have outlined it, you will be free to make your choice.  You can refuse me and I will leave you in peace.  Okay, so I might paint swearwords on your fence or tip drugs into your goldfish pond, but in the grand scheme of things... well, you know what I mean.

"Right," he said, adopting a more businesslike air, and placing a leather document folder on the desk.  "My proposal is this.  I want you to bear my child, willingly.  Look after them for a few years, keep them safe, that sort of thing.  If the child is born a 'Cubi, I will reward you handsomely.  Twelve million gold dollars," he said.

"Twelve million...?" the vixen asked, sceptically.

"Oh all right, fifteen," the incubus grumbled.  "But no higher.  You're not the only one on my shortlist, you know.
"If my ascension succeeds I should also be able to add you to my clan and 'upgrade' you into a succubus, if you so wish it," he said.  "You would be comparatively weak and your nominal lifespan would be shorter, but that's still at least fifteen centuries.  Fifteen centuries of youth and beauty," he added.  "That, essentially, is my proposal.  Any questions?"

"Would I have to... become evil?" the vixen pondered, a shadow crossing her face.  "Will the gods still accept me when I die if I forsake my mortal span?  And what about all this soul-eating that you demons seem to love so much?"

"Let's take those one at a time," Daryil said.  "Whether you are evil or not is entirely up to you.  Some of my clan are evil.  I have done evil things.  But then again, so have you," he pointed out reasonably.
"Let me be clear - my clan relishes the fear of others.  I like confusion.  I have done many questionable things, but I don't like hurting people.  I have very little patience for murderers, and none at all for soul-murderers within my clan.  I have rules against that sort of evil, and all members of my clan are expected to obey them.
"So to answer your last question, no.  If you do go around stealing souls for shits and giggles then my wrath will be terrible."

"At the end of the day, power can corrupt.  Whether you can resist its lure is up to you.  All I offer is the opportunity, how you use it is between you and your gods.
"If your gods are just and you retain your piety, they will surely accept you as their child, Being or Creature.  After all, it will give you longer to prove your faith and perform righteous acts in their service.  If they really want to nitpick, well, they're just a bunch of powerful assholes who don't really deserve to have your worship in the first place and you're better off without them."

"What... what are the drawbacks?" she asked... the offer had clearly tempted her.

"Of being a succubus?  Not everyone will like you, and you'll outlive many people.  But that happens even for Beings - you tend to outlive your parents and often your siblings and friends, and even if you die fairly young you usually get to watch them become aged and feeble just as you would.
"Look, life sucks sometimes, but a longer life gives you more opportunities for the good times.  With more life, you'll have more and better opportunity to serve your gods."

Lisa nodded but said nothing.

"The other drawback is that you'll need to learn how to use your powers.  You'll suddenly get some wings and that's gonna be a bit weird at first.  Traditionally, most 'Cubi take a course at the Academy for a couple of centuries.  Things are a bit different nowadays, with part-time courses offered, several competing institutions and less need for us to hide in general.  That's up to you, really.  You can get away with living off-campus these days much more than you could have in the past.

"If you want drawbacks, I guess I could paint swearwords on your fence and drug your goldfish anyway," Daryil added with an eager expression on his face.  Then it hardened and became coy.
"Look upon me.  Am I not handsome?  Am I not all you could desire?  This is my natural form, I have not shapeshifted."  He looked at the vixen expectantly.

"You said that you weren't going to seduce me," she snapped.

"Oh, yeah.  Sorry about that.  Want me to entertain you instead?
"Never thirsting, never drinking, clad in mail, never clinking.  What am I?"

Lisa just stared at him for a moment and shook her head.  "A fish?  Look.  You were the one who wanted to talk about this proposal, and now I have a question about it."

"Oh, sorry," Daryil said.  "It's a dead fish actually.  The only good fish is one that's dead."  He produced a couple of lollipops and offered one to her.  "It's my own recipe," he added.

"Are you insane?"

"Frequently, but just ignore it, everyone else does.  And oh yes, a crappy attention span is another drawback of my race.  But before you ask, no.  You don't have to be mad to be a Daryil succubus, but it can help."  He glanced at the light fittings.

Lisa ignored that last remark.  "You say that you want me to father your child before you try to increase your powers," she began, taking one of the lollipops, while he was distracted.
"You say that this is risky and might kill you.  What happens if you do die?  Would I still get my reward then?"

"Ah yes," the incubus said and became a little subdued.  "If I die, the succubus offer is unfortunately void, since only a successful ascension would allow me to do that.  But you would still get your money, and my heirs can give you a substantially increased lifespan and youth, even as a Being if you should desire it.
"In the event of my death, control of the clan will pass to my protege, Jakob Pettersohn.  He has a dark past, and to some an ill reputation, but deep down he is a good and honourable man and he will make the necesary arrangements.  In any case, I can give you a small advance after the child is conceived."

"What happens if... if the child dies?"

Daryil blinked and looked as though he had just eaten something very sour.  "What kind of bedroom talk is that?" he asked.

"You said it was to be a contract," Lisa said.  "And by day I'm a paralegal researcher."

The fox sighed and looked upwards.  "Oh, all right.  Let's get the ugly stuff out the way."

"You... you would kill me?" she asked, edging away slightly.

"What is this obsession you have with me murdering you?" Daryil asked, cocking his head slightly and regaining some of his bounce.  "Look.  If, gods forbid, the child should die from natural causes, I or my heirs shall give you a percentage of your fee.  I'm not a vicious man.  I may not be very good with people but I try to be nice to them.  Well, when I'm not pranking them.

"If however, we were to find that the child had died due to something you had done deliberately..." he paused, struggling for words.
"Well then, yes, you would die and your immortal soul would be forfeit.  No, not destroyed, but rather it would be taken from your mangled corpse and sealed into crystal.  From there you would be cast out into the deepest oceans to contemplate your deed until the next geological age."
The Being whimpered plaintively.

"You asked," Daryil pointed out.  Then he sighed.  "Calm down, my child," Daryil said, "You don't strike me as the type to do thinks like that.  Any anyway, I'm pretty flexible - obviously if someone else were to murder our hypothetical child it would be them making the trip to the seaside, not you.  Unless you ordered it, of course.  And I would know.
"I think that covers all the bases, so let's get down to something more fun and christmassy, like making your wildest dreams come true.
"Lollipop?" he asked again - Lisa took a second one.

"Okay," she said, and began to peel off some of her clothing.  "Let's do this!"

"One thing first," Daryil said, holding out the document wallet and a pen marked with the Daryil Clan symbol, "Sign and date on the dotted line..."

The End

[Gabi]

Okay, THAT was really awkward.

[Tapewolf]

Okay, THAT was really awkward.

It didn't make it any easier to write.  The ending especially.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Read story, but class is about to start. I'll critique later. One quick comment.

Fear's Child
All that stuff is nasty and besides, they'd be able to identify my from my DNA.

Minor typo.

[Tapewolf]

Minor typo.

Thanks.

[Cogidubnus]

Interesting.

I liked it, and found it well-written. It is a tribute to your technical skill that I really don't have any nitpicks about the way it's written. It's engaging, keeps you interested. The text flows naturally. I still have my usual nitpicks, I.E. that I find Dariyl's sense of justice horrifying, but that's not exactly news.

I guess the only real question I'm left with is why, exactly, he hates fish so much. I think he threatened to kill a pond full of fish almost four times. Wherefore this hate of all things piscine?

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

I don't know, I'm not sure that he'd put _lethal_ drugs into the fishpond. He didn't specify. And I can't think of anything funnier than watching a fishpond full of fish on LSD (or the piscine equivalent).

Also it'd be confusing, which, as he admits, is what he likes to see. And eat.


Being Dariyl, I can see him painting the swearwords in a paint that is invisible until you paint over it, or something equally obscure, mind-numbing, irritating, and offbeat.


Being picky, I find the change in attitude from "no way" to "okay, boink my brains out" to be a bit sudden, but perhaps that's just that I hang out with the wrong women...

[Tapewolf]

Being picky, I find the change in attitude from "no way" to "okay, boink my brains out" to be a bit sudden, but perhaps that's just that I hang out with the wrong women...

Yes, that's my major gripe with this.  Though to be fair, she has been promised a one-night-only deal to increase her lifespan about 20-fold.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Character and dialog seems to be solid. Perhaps you could filter in a bit more of Dairyl's insanity by mentioning off the cuff perceptions, non sequiturs, or perhaps stray memories.


Some of the worldbuilding is of a concern though.  Lisa is a paralegal researcher, but lives in a lawless, secluded area where she needs to keep a knife in self defense. And the drawer, at least to me, is an odd place to keep a knife. You'd have to lean over, open it up, fumble, find the weapon, and then bring it out. Slow, slow. On top of the drawer might be better, or somewhere where she can have it in her hand immediately upon waking.


However, the biggest problem, to me, is that this seems to be in the same continuity as the project future setting, right before Daryil ascends. If we have the futuristic technological and sociological background, it just seems odd that he'd have to go through this whole rigamarole. Put an ad on Craigslist, or look into in vitro fertilization, hell, just hire a hooker and pay her to raise the kid.


OTOH, we balance that against Daryil's insanity and emotional feeding off of fright, so maybe this sort of approach appeals to him.

Very good on keeping away from author characterization, and tightly focused on  the details that kept moving the plot forward. If you re-write, I might like to recommend something detailing the level of lighting. Especially from Lisa's point of view, you can create a much more ominous atmosphere if you have vague shapes seen in starlight, a voice (what does Daryil's voice sound like?) moving around the bedroom, seemingly at random, and maybe the lights turning on when you want it to take a more pleasant tone.


Overall, quite entertaining. I hope to see more of your work

[Tapewolf]

Some of the worldbuilding is of a concern though.  Lisa is a paralegal researcher, but lives in a lawless, secluded area where she needs to keep a knife in self defense.

That perhaps could do with a bit more explanation.  What I was trying to get at was that she's not in the middle of the desert, she's in an out-of-the way location on the outskirts of a town.  Close enough to commute, but far enough away that no-one will hear you scream if a Creature tries to have a go.

EDIT: I've amended that.  See if it works better.

And the drawer, at least to me, is an odd place to keep a knife. You'd have to lean over, open it up, fumble, find the weapon, and then bring it out. Slow, slow. On top of the drawer might be better, or somewhere where she can have it in her hand immediately upon waking.

Yeah.  She actually has several - the one in the drawer is closest to her.  At one point she was sat on the bed and snatched the knife from the bedtable, that might have been a better idea.  I might amend that.

However, the biggest problem, to me, is that this seems to be in the same continuity as the project future setting, right before Daryil ascends. If we have the futuristic technological and sociological background, it just seems odd that he'd have to go through this whole rigamarole. Put an ad on Craigslist, or look into in vitro fertilization, hell, just hire a hooker and pay her to raise the kid.

There is something in that, though I'm not sure a hooker would provide the kind of upbringing that Daryil wants.  A classified ad might have worked, though that leads into another idea I've been playing with as to why people might not want to answer it, and besides, Daryil was (mostly) in jail at that point so getting the replies would have been impractical.
At the end of the day, the story grew out of the idea of Daryil's own take on the stereotypical 'Cubi seduction thing, so "Daryil places a wanted ad, gets laid" wouldn't have been quite as interesting a story to read.  Or write, for that matter.

If you re-write, I might like to recommend something detailing the level of lighting. Especially from Lisa's point of view, you can create a much more ominous atmosphere if you have vague shapes seen in starlight, a voice (what does Daryil's voice sound like?) moving around the bedroom, seemingly at random, and maybe the lights turning on when you want it to take a more pleasant tone.

Nice idea, but I really really was gunning for the "Where the hell did you come from?!" approach.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Being picky, I find the change in attitude from "no way" to "okay, boink my brains out" to be a bit sudden, but perhaps that's just that I hang out with the wrong women...

Yes, that's my major gripe with this.  Though to be fair, she has been promised a one-night-only deal to increase her lifespan about 20-fold.

... From someone she has no reason to trust, and whose entire race's reputation is built on deception. And has just proved that he cannot be locked into jail. And he may well be extremely difficult to locate for the arrest in the first place.

You can bet that, as a paralegal researcher, she keeps up on the news in her field. And his arrest, trial, etc, would make for excellent gossip-bait.

There is something in that, though I'm not sure a hooker would provide the kind of upbringing that Daryil wants.  A classified ad might have worked, though that leads into another idea I've been playing with as to why people might not want to answer it, and besides, Daryil was (mostly) in jail at that point so getting the replies would have been impractical.
At the end of the day, the story grew out of the idea of Daryil's own take on the stereotypical 'Cubi seduction thing, so "Daryil places a wanted ad, gets laid" wouldn't have been quite as interesting a story to read.  Or write, for that matter.

Oh, I don't know. A series of vignettes of Daryil going on a number of blind dates might be amusing. The guys who show up, having totally misunderstood the advert, for example. I'm sure he'd have _fun_ with them, but... ;-]

Maybe that's a story for another day. ;-]

[Tapewolf]

... From someone she has no reason to trust, and whose entire race's reputation is built on deception. And has just proved that he cannot be locked into jail. And he may well be extremely difficult to locate for the arrest in the first place.

Very true.

You can bet that, as a paralegal researcher, she keeps up on the news in her field. And his arrest, trial, etc, would make for excellent gossip-bait.

Depends.  If her field is patents and the high tech sector, she might not necessarily keep track of someone causing a public nuisance.  EDIT: Though that said, it did make the news.

Maybe that's a story for another day. ;-]

Heh.  I'm not sure I could really do that one justice and I have a whole heap of other stories which I need to finish.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Heh. _That_ story might explain where the plethora of various relations that show up in the main story came from.

Lots of, well, the phrase "extra-marital relations" comes to mind. Only, since he isn't married, it doesn't apply. Hrm.


One is tempted to see what I could come up with, but...