Writing Zazith [M-VL]

[DeathKnight]

[color=crimson]The first draft of three point five interconnected short stories concerning several hours on the night of December 6 in the town of Hearthton.

I. The Cleansing

The red tinge trails from the edge of my mouth off my face. I stand before my collected brothers, and tap the altar once with my hand. I have finished devouring the entrails of the drunkard, and the sacrifice is completed. I spit out the blood onto the altar, and immediately it reacts. The marble altar lets out a low, hollow sound followed by a harrowingly loud groan.

"This will be the dawn of a new age. I call forth from the void the unknown one; the being who harkens a new age for all of mankind!" I said and the brothers let out a triumphant hoot. “We are your servants, and all of us will shed our blood for your eternal existence! Wash the Earth! Cleanse the Earth! Bring upon us a new age, our lord! Come forth!”

The leftovers on the altar burn to ash and a horrible chill falls through the room. My brothers let out a gasp mixed with terror and anticipation. The chill causes me to shudder, and I watch the ashes as they float up into the air. A voice begins to speak, but not from the room. Instead, it originates inside my own head similar to a thought. I fell backwards with its initially gravely tone, and came to rest on the rough stone of the cavern.

"For thousands of years," The ashes rose and formed into the shape of a star, "I have watched a growing stain."

I pushed myself off the wall and tried to right myself, but the voice seemed to knock me down harder this time. I fell onto the altar and felt some of the ashes crawling over my skin. The ashes left a black trail over my arms, and within a few seconds, I was criss-crossed with dozens of thin black lines.

“A stain that has used fire, metal, and blood to pillage all it so desired.”

The star divided into a dozen smaller stars. These smaller stars flew at dazzling speed and attached themselves to the foreheads of my brothers. A few panicked at this and scrubbed with increasing frustration at their foreheads, but the ash was similar to a tattoo upon them.

“Pillaged the land and green earth, pillaged, pillaged, and PILLAGED whatever it so desired. You filthy ape borne monstrosities summon me, the father of your failed existence.”

Several of the brothers broke down into tears as the voice lowered into a demonic, guttural noise that grunted an unspeakable language as if cursing our naivety. The lines on my skin began to burn, and I heard the shrieks of my brothers. I managed to open my eyes to watch them, and I wish I had not, for in those few moments I witnessed their demise.

The stars were incandescently burning purple, and blood poured down from them. The eyes of the brothers were brimming with madness as they clawed at their foreheads. The screams they uttered slowly became more and more inhuman; until finally one-by-one, each man raised his hands high into the air before slamming them into their gut and ripping their flesh open. Their entrails spilled out across the floor. They slumped, each one of them, one at a time to the floor. The stars still burned bright on their foreheads, even though their bodies lay torn asunder.

The entrails bubble and frothed. All the blood-red organs came together and rose into a terrifying array of body parts. In a calculating fashion, the bloody heap oozed across the floor to acquire the head of each brother, and so it now had a dozen heads all with mouths open agape with that accursed purple star shining like a beacon upon them. The mouths began to flap incessantly and the guttural voice came out from each one.

I forced myself up from the altar and groped at a nearby torch. I cast it onto the heap and it burst aflame, but it did not burn away. The flaming mash-up of my brothers oozed towards me and all the heads turned to look at me. The mouths curled into a smile before they spoke once more.

“Do not scream. Accept your fate and let me use you. You desired me to clean the Earth, and it seems to me I am simply starting with this cavern.” I stared at the faces and weakly shook my head. “No?” It asked mockingly. “Terrible fortunes are befalling you this evening it seems. Terrible, terrible indeed. Let me end them.”

I descended into deep terror and let out a yelp. I tore away and surged past the creature. I do not know if it let me go, but I spilled out behind it and followed the labyrinthine cavern up to the surface and never glanced behind me.

The police say that they picked me up wandering the streets of Hearthton babbling incoherently. They insist I am mad and that there is no such cavern anywhere near Hearthton. They cannot even see the lines. The lines, the black thin lines that are traced across my body and I cannot wash them off no matter what I do. They speak to me, and they talk of the coming end. They thank me. I cannot wash them off, and these markings move across my body as if alive.

Even now, I can hear the sound of something oozing around the padded walls. It is watching me.

It is coming for me.

II. Graveyard Shift

Michael Warrington is a modern, contemporary man. He has tivo in his house, he drives a Ford Excursion, and his wife and children love him. He works at the Hearthton Insane Asylum, or ‘Psychiatric Hospital’ as said in the press releases, as a night guard, and his job is usually quite boring. He watches security screens. He walks baby blue halls and passes the hospital-white doors that hold the craziest of the crazy from across the county. Sometimes, he stops outside for a smoke. Yes, Michael Warrington’s job is dull.

On the night of December 6th, Warrington was standing outside for a smoke. His shift had one hour to go, and had so far been bland as usual. The night air was cool, and the stars stared down upon him from the sky as sentinels. Warrington tapped excess ashes from his cigarette and checked his cell phone. 4:01 AM and time could sincerely not pass by any slower.

He tossed his cigarette to the ground and walked back into the asylum. The silence was broken only briefly by a giggle here or a incoherent muttering here. As he wandered the halls, a piercing scream echoed down to him. He furrowed his eyebrows and jogged towards the source of the scream. He turned the corner at the asylum’s central junction, and halted. The hallway in front of him was pitch black.

He pulled out his two-way to the central security room, “Chuck, there’s an outage in Hall 2A. The emergency lights didn’t come on; flip them on manually for me.”

The radio was silent. Warrington stared down at his two-way. “Chuck, are you asleep again man? I need those emergencies on.”

The red emergency lights flickered on. “Thanks Chuck.” There was no response, but Warrington thought for a moment he heard a slight dripping noise from the two-way.

The hallway looked normal under the crimson glow of the lights. Warrington slowly walked down the hall and peered through the first window. There was no one inside. The seriousness of the situation dawned on Warrington and he scrambled for his pistol.

Warrington hoarsely whispered into the two-way, “Chuck, at least one patient is out of the room- no, two.” He corrected himself as he glanced through the next window. “Three, four, five.” Warrington’s count increased as he jogged down the hall. “The entire damn hall is empty. This is- damn, Chuck we need the police down here right now.”

The silence came over the radio again. Warrington looked down at his two-way in confusion. “Chuck, why are you being so damn quiet?”

“Sorry, so sorry.” Chuck’s voice finally came over the two-way. It sounded different to Warrington’s ears. There was a hallow tone to it, or a lack of emotion. Something was strange about it.

“Are you okay Chuck? You went quiet for a long time there man.” Warrington said as he checked the rest of the hall.

“I am simply startled by the situation around us, friend.” Chuck said in a very odd way. “It seems you require the police, am I correct?”

“Well, yeah, but why so formal? You feel threatened in your little fortress of a room?” Warrington chuckled to himself but there was no response back.

“I have contacted the proper authorities, Michael Warrington. Are you doing well out there? It must be very eerie.”

“Yeah, this entire hall shows absolutely no sign of forced entry or exit. In fact, I think the locking systems on these doors are intact.”

Darkness fell behind him, and Warrington turned to look. Beyond the central intersection, the hallway opposite of him had fallen dark. “Shit, Chuck. 1A is down now too. I’ll go check it out, flip the emergencies on.”

“I shall.”

Warrington jogged to Hallway 1A and found it in the same condition as 2A. The door locking systems were in tact. The keypads were not disabled, the deadbolts were in position, and the door had not been touched in the least. All the patients in 1A were gone, and there was no trace of them in the Hallway. There was not a sound throughout the hospital, nor had any of the external door alarms gone off.

“Chuck, I have to say I am stumped. The patients have disappeared off the fucking Earth for all I know.”

“That is unlikely, Michael. I believe they are to be found, and perhaps it would be prudent to go to the two hallways that have not been affected.”

“Yeah, if those hallways go dark I need those emergencies on immediately.” Warrington jogged back to the central intersection and looked down both of the lit hallways. Nothing was amiss.

“It’s here! It’s here! It’s HERE!” A voice screamed from behind Warrington. He swiveled and ran to the door of the screaming voice. It was the soap-patient, so called because he insisted that he needed to wash himself almost every five minutes. He was wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling. “You stay away! You keep away from me; I will not lose my head!”

Warrington turned on the intercom into the room, “Patient 126, what seems to be the problem?

“Send it away! Send it away; send it away; send it away; send it away!” The patient leapt up and staggered towards the window in the door. He looked pleadingly at Warrington, “Keep it away from me! It killed us, but we brought it here, but- displeasure, why was it displeased? We did everything correctly, but they are all dead! It is- you hear it? Right? You hear it? That oozing noise, the- the slime, the slimy noise of something in the walls. It drips and oozes around me, reminding me that I am part of it. It is strong tonight, the noise is strong tonight! You must get me out of here, it is too strong tonight.”

“I can’t let you out of here 126, and I can’t get you anything to let you sleep. I need to take care of,” Warrington paused and glanced at the intersection where the two crimson halls met. He thought he had seen something move across it. He warily turned back to look at 126. “I need to take care of some work first, but I would appreciate it if you kept things down.”

“Michael, I am picking up some movement in the hallway opposite you. Very queer looking, very queer. Oh my, I believe that- yes, yes the lights just went off in that hallway. The emergency lights are already lit for you.”

“Thanks, Chuck.” Warrington jogged now to 1B, and there the situation was the same. No patients. No doors had been messed with. “Chuck, are the police here yet?”

“Why no, Michael, they are not here yet. It seems to be dangerously stormy outside, and perhaps that is delaying their arrival.”

Warrington paused. “Stormy, is it?” He looked up at a security camera. “Is it a pretty bad storm?”

“Very bad, Michael. Very bad indeed.”

“I see.” Warrington said. He heard the scream of 126 again. He screamed over and over that it was here, it was here, it was here.

“Michael, 126 seems distressed. I think you should bring him some medication to allow him to rest, don’t you?” Chuck said.

Warrington walked at a slow pace to the center of the intersection. “Well, I would but I don’t feel real comfortable just leaving this situation, y’know? Why don’t you come down here with some medicine and help me out? We could sort this out together.”

There was a long pause at the end of the two-way. All the lights went out and only the sound of 126’s screaming was heard.

“We have a problem, Michael.” The two-way spoke in the darkness. “A very big problem as it seems something has affected the power of this hospital. You are correct though. I believe the saying by our people is ‘two heads are better than one.’”

Something in Chuck’s tone caused Warrington to shiver. “Chuck, you don’t have to grope your way down here in the dark. I think I am going to go outside and see what the situation with our power is.”

The dripping noise came over the two-way once more, and 126 screamed in terror.

“No! I- I offered service! I can be part of your new order!” He yelled. "Let me lead your servants! I can-" The yelling stopped with a nauseating gurgle.

“You will be.” Warrington stumbled into the wall as a voice echoed in his head. It seemed to drag his feet to a halt as it spoke. “Not in the way you imagined.”

126’s screams began anew and a purple light glowed out of the door’s window. Warrington righted himself, stepped back, and ran towards the exit.

A bright red light shone from behind him, and Warrington looked to see the most horrifying and maddening thing in the hallway behind him. It was a heap of organs, all frothing and moving together as one. There were dozens upon dozens of heads across its surface, and each had a purple star glowing out from it. The thing took up the entire width and height of the hallway, and Warrington had no way to discern how far back it went. The most maddening of all was the head in the very center of it. Chuck’s head stared at him, and the voice spoke in a cacophony of human voices.

“Good evening.”

Warrington panicked and fired his pistol till it was empty at the mass. The bullets were absorbed into the large pile of human parts, and the mass shuddered with laughter. Warrington turned and broke into a sprint as his terrified instincts drove him to fly from that place. He tore out of the exit and ran down a set of stairs to the power terminal. Frantically and haphazardly he flipped every lever and pushed every button he could. The terminal let out an alarmed beep, but Warrington insisted and told the terminal what to do.

He glanced up the stairs, and the purple stars of the mass glowed in the darkness above. Warrington stepped backwards several times, but his back was against a high, barbed wire fence. Frantically, he climbed up the fence and ignored the barbs as they tore through his skin. He took one glance back at the mass, but it stood silently at the top of the stairs and did not move. It watched him run from the hospital, and finally a large explosion overwhelmed the rear of the hospital. The fire spread from the power system and across the hospital with abnormal speed.

Warrington turned and watched the glowing red of the hospital. He fell to his knees as the fire spiraled into an otherworldly maelstrom. The mass floated up into the maelstrom, and funneled the orange flames up into the sky above. The hospital below shook with a tremendous downward force, and it collapsed into a fiery ruin immediately. The firestorm now swarmed far above him in the sky. It swirled like a hurricane, and a wall of fire cut off his escape route. He collapsed to the ground and rolled over.

The orange flames twirled around the heap, and it began to fall from the sky down onto him. Warrington cried out, but blackness enveloped him and that was all he knew.

III. Zazith

The jail cells were unoccupied except for one drunk. Hugh stared at the one drunk for a long time, and watched the drunk stare at the floor in return. The drunk swayed as he stared, and Hugh wondered if a strong wind would simply topple him over.

“Izza long night.” The drunk said and looked Hugh in the eye. “Long, izza long night fur you two ‘uh Hugh?”

“Yeah.” Hugh said and nodded. “You’re the only trouble maker tonight, Red.” The drunk was a long-time offender, and his continually alcohol-flushed cheeks had earned him a nickname over the years. “Not too unusual, but I always wonder where you get the money to drink so much.”

“Oh, I do that shtuff legal, jus’ take it and end up doin’ stuff illegal, you know? Nice shishtem.” The drunk barely managed to ramble the entire sentence out without tipping off of the prison cell’s bench.

“It seems to work very well for you, Red. A little too well, actually.” Hugh smiled at the drunk. It was a lazy night in Hearthton, and even Red was welcome company on this cold December night.

The phone rang, and Hugh picked it up. “Hearthton Police Department, Officer Calvin speaking.”

“I would like to report arson.” A steely calm voice came over the phone. “It occurred a few moments ago. The entire Hearthton Psychiatric Hospital seems to be affected.”

“Oh Jesus, the entire hospital?” Hugh imagined the evacuation headache that must be underway. “We’ll send some units out to help with the evacuation immediately.”

“There was no evacuation. Everyone inside is dead and the building is nothing but a pile of rubble.”

Hugh froze and stared blankly at the floor. “Wait, the entire hospital is gone? There is no one outside at all?”

“I am looking at the hospital. It looks very ruined to me.”

“Alright, the units will be underway to look at the crime scene. I’d ask you to stay there and assist the officers in answering any questions they have, Mr. …?”

“My name is Rose.”

“Alright, Mr. Rose. I appreciate the call and we’ll get the units out there as soon as possible.”

Hugh sent the majority of his units out to investigate the crime scene, but he felt comfortable with a skeleton crew patrolling Hearthton. It was a quiet town, and the cool winds of winter always seemed to dim what little trouble makers there were.

“Thass a bit weird, Hugh.” Red said. “The entire hozpital burnt down, thass jus’ weird, but no survivors? Shit, tha’ was one hell of a fire.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand how not a single soul could get out. Not even the workers. I guess they tried to save the patients, and, if that is the case, that is a real tragedy. This will really affect the whole town.”

“It’z aight there Hugh, you’ll be aighht. The rest of ‘em, I dunno about ‘em.” Red said and looked out the barred window in his cell. “The rest of ‘em, well, I zupuse that they’ll do as they need to do.”

Hugh looked at Red, and the drunkard looked incredibly sober. “Well, I appreciate it Red. I hope that the rest of the town will do alright with it too.”

“We’ll zee.” Red said. “We’ll zee.”

The radio system came alive. “Hugh, this is Grant. We’ve arrived at the psychiatric hospital, and it looks like that caller was right. The entire place is black rubble, and there is not a sign of anyone, not even the caller. We’re going to start looking around the grounds. Hopefully we can find that caller.”

Hugh picked up the radio and responded. “Got it, Grant. Take care of yourself out there, there is a real chill in the air tonight.”

“Therezza bad awful chill, zazright.” Red said in a return to being quite drunk.

An explosion tore out from outside. The shockwave blasted the windows to pieces, and it slammed Hugh out of his chair and onto the floor. He stood up uneasily and held onto his desk to stand sturdily. There were small cuts along his arms from the glass, but it was nothing serious. He glanced over at Red, but he sat in the same spot unmoved.

“You okay, Red?” Hugh asked. Red just nodded back at him. Hugh moved quickly and stepped outside to look over the town. There was a large black plume of smoke towering up from the middle of town. Hugh ran inside and grabbed the keys to his patrol car. “Red, I’ll be back.”

“Take yur time, therezz no rushk.” He said.

Hugh drove to the center of town and the large Cathedral that stood majestically was ablaze. He radioed for fire assistance, but there was no response from the either the fire department or the emergency responder. Neither could he hail Grant or anyone else from the psychiatric hospital. He tossed his radio down in disgust, and ran towards the Cathedral.

“Hello, is anyone inside?” He called out. There was no response. The front door burst open and a wall of flame jetted out. Hugh jumped backwards in surprise, but the bigger surprise was the black form that calmly walked outside of the cathedral.

It was a dark shade of a man, and the edges of his form seemed to be vapor. His eyes were iridescently dark purple and seemed gaseous. Whisps of the purple light trailed up into the air, and the very sight of his eyes sent a tremor of fear down Hugh’s form. The nature of this creature was not human, but it was merely human shaped. Darkness and shadows were fashioned together to make this creature. The two purple eyes set upon Hugh, and he drew his pistol. The creature stared at the pistol, then to Hugh, then back to the pistol, and walked away towards the street.

“Freeze!” The creature froze at the sound of Hugh’s voice.

It turned and tilted its head towards Hugh, until the head simply fell off an onto the ground and melted. The body of the creature melted away into the black pool, and it moved towards Hugh. It paused in front of him and bubbled. The two eyes came to the surface and stared up at him; they were looking at him with a mixture of predatory interest and amusement.

The black pool shot up into the air and flew towards the nearest building, the Post Office. It expanded exponentially in the air and swallowed the building whole. Black flames burst forth across its body, and immediately an explosion ripped out from it. The shockwave sent Hugh hurtling into a tree, and he blacked out.

Hugh woke up some time later, and it was silent all around him. The post office was gone, the cathedral was gone, Murph’s department store was gone, and everything in sight was merely rubble. In every direction, there was merely rubble to see, and all of it left off a trail of black smoke high into the air. There were bloody masses all along the street, and it looked as if people had merely exploded in on themselves while running away. The smaller heaps of organs were children, and Hugh felt faint from the realization. There were trails of blood, and it looked as if the heaps had moved themselves back and forth for some time driven by some unknown puppeteer.

Hugh stood and radioed desperately for someone, anyone. There was no response. His car was gone, and so he walked the streets of Hearthton looking for survivors. The school was gone. His house was gone, and the bloody heaps around his house he had stared at for several minutes before moving on.

Finally, he came back to the police station. The cell was still standing, and inside it sat Red. Red looked up at Hugh and shook his head.

“Too loud to sleep.” He said. “What a commotion they made, but it was all the same.”

“Red, what he hell happened?” Hugh said and grabbed onto the bars of his cell.

“Let me out of this cell, Hugh.”

The shock of the situation had overwhelmed his mind, so Hugh did the task without a second thought.

Red walked out and looked out across the rubble of the town. He glanced at Hugh, and there was a smile on his face. “I know who did this, and he is a terrifying individual indeed. He left me a symbol to give you, and I believe it could lead to an answer for you.”

Red reached into his pants’ pocket and pulled out a small medallion. He gave it to Hugh and looked up into the night sky. The rolling black columns of smoke blotted out the sky to a dark gray color.

“It looks stormy tonight.” Red said and began to walk away. “You should probably leave before the storm gets here.”

Hugh looked down at the medallion. There was a picture of a star etched into it, and on the reverse side was a horrifying picture of a severed head. The top of the coin had words in an unrecognizable language etched upon it. “What the hell does that say?”

Red turned and looked at him. His grin grew unnaturally large, and his teeth sharpened into fangs. Hugh dropped the medallion and raised his pistol.

The voice that came out of Red’s mouth sounded more similar to the buzz of a thousand insects that human speech. “It is the proper title for the King of a particularly pestilent world.”

“What is his name?” Hugh said.

“His name? It is the same as my name." Red pointed to himself. "I am Zazith.”

Red’s face burst open. The blood splattered over the ground. Out of his face gushed a fountain of blood, guts, and heads. Hugh fired his pistol without effect, and finally dropped it and ran. He sprinted across the abandoned streets, and glanced behind him to see the blood-red form that Zazith had taken. It was massive, and taller than any of the buildings in Hearthton could be.

“You will go and you will try to tell people what has happened here. There will be none that believes in you, yet soon the terror of Zazith will reclaim the globe. I will fix the errors you have committed. Run, Hugh. Run to the corners of the Earth, and know that you will be the last to be cleansed.” The voice reverberated in his head so loudly that Hugh convulsed on the ground as it spoke.

The mountain shuddered and drew in on itself. All of the piles of body parts flew to join it, and soon the only thing that remained was the distant silhouette of Zazith’s human form. Hugh stood and staggered into the forest at the edge of town. He wandered aimlessly for many days.

A group of hikers stumbled upon him wandering in forest and rambling on about the destruction of the world. A helicopter took him to a hospital in the nearest town, and the authorities were confused when he insisted on being from Hearthton.

The authorities had never heard of Hearthton, and insisted that he was mistaken. The doctors insisted it was some form of mental delusion from his taxing trip through the forest. Hugh recovered, and stubbornly took a trip back to Hearthton.

The highway showed no exit to Hearthton where it once did. Hugh pulled over and stubbornly hiked several miles to where Hearthton was. In the place of the city was a large, foggy forest that seemed to be untouched by time in its beauty and splendor. In the center of the forest, sitting alone in a small clearing, sat the sole artifact from Hearthton.

Hugh approached the prison cell. Vines had grown over its bars, and the ceiling had fallen in, but it was definitely the very same prison cell the drunkard had been in. Hugh entered it. A golden glint caught his attention and he brushed away some rubble from the ceiling.

There sat the Medallion of Zazith, with the severed head smiling up at Hugh.

IIIB. An Excerpt from the Book of the Corpse-King

"The King walked down from the throne and onto the orb. The orb had been desecrated by the ape borne, and the King was displeased. The King took into his own hands the cleansing of Earth, and walked upon it. The orb cried many tears as the King let fire wash across the landscape, and the many creatures of the orb trembled as the corpse-King grew in might and power.

In this time, I was graced with a vision of the King in his heavenly form. My eyes fell upon the King, and I shuddered at his true form. There upon him were four black wings, mere skeletons with ribbons of flesh hanging off, and his eyes were innumerable. The purple, the symbol of the King, was shining greatly within them. His body was more a conglomeration of dripping black bile, and within it one could see the pearly white bones of defeated enemies sticking out. He flew through heaven as a shooting star, and turned all life to corpses wherever he went.

He is the corpse-King, Zazith, ruler of the orb, and his form will wash over it. The terror in that day will not cease, and neither will the cry from the ape borne. Their pestilence will be at an end, and their bodies will join the marvelous form of the corpse-King.

Let it be known to all who read this, that he is coming, and there is no hope for salvation. Weep for your children, weep for the planet, and look to the sky, for there the corpse-King stares down upon the planet hungrily, awaiting the time when he can put things right."

- The Book of the Corpse-King, as translated by Milton Merchel[/color]

[Allamorph]

[FONT=Arial]Right.

I'm not really certain what to say about this. Not that I mean to imply that it is bad at all (or even that it's mediocre, for that matter), just that moving heaps of partially-living organs do not particularly appeal to me. Same reason I never really got into the grotesque horror flicks, like Saw, or anything with Jason. Just doesn't strike my fancy.

That, and I also don't really care to go with the generic "interesting". Seems like every time I comment on stuff here in the Antho I say the same thing, and that bothers me, ya know? Unfortunately, "interesting" is about the only thing I can come up with right now, so you see my pickle. :animeswea

So material-wise, I don't really know what to do. But there is one thing I know I can do, so here goes.

(I'm such a jerk. :animesigh)

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For now I'm just going to look at part One. Not only am I trying to get better about posting twelve-page criticisms for you guys to wade through, but it's also finals week, and I have some studying I want to do later today; so this is really better for both of us, I think. :p

First, keep your tense in mind. You started off in present, but switched to past by the end of the third paragraph:
[QUOTE][I][COLOR="Red"]The leftovers on the altar [B]burn[/B] to ash and a horrible chill [B]falls[/B] through the room. ... I [B]fell[/B] backwards with its initially gravely tone, and [B]came[/B] to rest on the rough stone of the cavern.[/COLOR][/I][/QUOTE]
Then you go back to present at the end of the narrative. It could work with the way you did it?setting up the incident in the cavern as sort of a recounted memory, and then coming back to the present when the police pick up the narrator?but if you do that, then you need to start off in past tense to keep everything uniform. Uniformity is the key there.

I notice that your structure is pretty basic. Again, this isn't saying you're bad at anything; I don't believe I found anything grammatically wrong with what you wrote as I read through it. There's just no a whole lot of variety present, and while I can easily tell you are years past the See Spot Run stage?and you [I]certainly[/I] don't write in such a juvenile style?an absence of variety still evokes the same general feeling.

Take this paragraph, for example:
[QUOTE][COLOR="Red"][I]I forced myself up from the altar and groped at a nearby torch. I cast it onto the heap and it burst aflame, but it did not burn away. The flaming mash-up of my brothers oozed towards me and all the heads turned to look at me. The mouths curled into a smile before they spoke once more.[/I][/COLOR][/QUOTE]
Aside from the last bit of the second sentence, all of these are basically identical. Your imagery may be good and vivid, but an unvarying structure makes the whole thing just seem bland.

I'm sure you've walked into rooms before that have carried their own unique smell, one that never really seemed to change from day to day to week to month. Have you ever noticed that the longer you spend in these rooms, the less you notice the smell, and then when you leave and come back it hits you in the face again? Same kind of thing here. The brain has a natural repetition filter, and when parts of its environment stay the same for long periods of time, it allows itself to somewhat ignore what hasn't changed so that it can focus attention on what [I]has[/I] changed.

So part of keeping your audience's interest, then, lies in making certain that they don't start to tune out what you're writing, and this can be partially accomplished by varying your form. That way, their minds don't get used to you telling your story the same way line after line, and they won't start skipping paragraphs in an attempt to find the next interesting spot.

Does that make sense?


Your dialogue is all right. It's not great, but it's okay. I'll hit that a little more when I get into part Two, since there is much more there for me to work with. For now, though, I only want to comment on Zazith's first big monologue.

It sounds odd, to me. I don't mean that the style you wrote it in doesn't click, because that's how his character speaks. I can see that much. I'm talking more about what it sounds like when the narration is taken out, since in real life there is no voice-over describing the scene to us.

[QUOTE][I][COLOR="Red"]"For thousands of years," The ashes rose and formed into the shape of a star, "I have watched a growing stain. A stain that has used fire, metal, and blood to pillage all it so desired. Pillaged the land and green earth, pillaged, pillaged, and PILLAGED whatever it so desired. You filthy ape borne monstrosities summon me, the father of your failed existence.?[/COLOR][/I][/QUOTE]
If you read his speech like that, without any written breaks in between, I think you see how peculiar it sounds. Even with the delays added in, I don't think it feels quite right. (By delays, I mean where you interjected descriptions of the action, which also serves to pace the speaker, adding time between his phrases?which I am pretty sure was your intent.)

You tossed in a small break in the middle of the first sentence, there. I think I know what you were trying to do, but since I'm still struggling to figure out the right way to do interruptions myself, I can't offer any advice. I [I]can[/I] say, though, that it might be better to go ahead and cite the voice in that phrase to make things feel a little better. E.g.:
[INDENT]"For thousands of years," it [the voice] spoke, as the ashes rose and formed into the shape of a star, "I have watched a growing stain."[/INDENT]
Anyway, that's all I want to hit in that department.

Speaking of the star, though, what shape is it? Since the ritual to me seemed rather demonic in nature, I would assume it is five-pointed, but when I first read the story I saw six points, and it could very easily be four or seven. Make sure you include specifics like that in your descriptions.

And this is just a personal note, but do you think you might have gone overboard with the pillaging, there? :p I mean, Zazith certainly seems to have a one-track mind about this concept.


Other than that, I'd suggest giving your stuff a re-read, and if something doesn't feel exactly right try tweaking it a bit. A few of your descriptions felt out of place or strangely worded, but they weren't enough for me to say anything specific just yet.

And don't settle for good. Go for amazing. :animesmil

Later

-A[/FONT]

[DeathKnight]

[quote name='Allamorph'][FONT=Arial]I'm not really certain what to say about this. Not that I mean to imply that it is bad at all (or even that it's mediocre, for that matter), just that moving heaps of partially-living organs do not particularly appeal to me. Same reason I never really got into the grotesque horror flicks, like Saw, or anything with Jason. Just doesn't strike my fancy.[/quote][/font]

[color=crimson]The genre of gorey literature is kind of polarizing. Some people really enjoy reading about the guts of characters; others are more interested in the medium of literature being above that kind of visceral tone that most movies/television shows take.

I think that, depending on your goals with a story, you should move as it seems applicable. Obviously, with a monster-themed story, it seemed applicable to me lol.[/color]


[quote name='Allamorph][font=Arial']So material-wise, I don't really know what to do. But there is one thing I know I can do, so here goes.[/quote][/font]

[color=crimson]Writers need to be criticized, and the format and form of this story is really version 1.1 if that at all, lol. I only edited typos, and have not read over it since due to the fact it was going to the bottom of the anthology.

So far people have been said "Wow! That was different!"; or "That kept my interest!", or "WTF is this", but nothing that could move me to tweak it like "this tense is wrong", or "This is a bit ______" which is what I [i]need[/i]. I appreciate you giving out something that can help me grow, and I will edit this story once I finish a couple of finals at the end of this week.[/color]