Rate the Story Game, número tres

7. I feel like there's better ways to say what you're trying to get across simply in the sense of rearranging the words you've already got. If I'm remembering properly, I think I'm talking about passive voice vs. active voice. There are also a few little tiny things that sound kind of awkward and disrupt the flow of this overall really great paragraph. Sorry, this sounds super harsh.Although common sense tells me otherwise, I don’t believe that I’m actually the person in the mirror. This guy’s dull green eyes are vacant and completely emotionless, and the skin around them is dark and sunken in, giving the impression that he hasn’t slept in a very long time. His arms and torso suggest the idea of once being toned and fit, but he’s starting to let them slip away. He’s in desperate need of a shave and a haircut, though in the end nothing he could ever do will erase the hopeless, dead look in his eyes; it’s permanently engraved in them, and even if somehow things get better for him, the ghost of that misery will always be right there, ready to take over again. All in all, he looks like an absolute mess, and it wouldn’t take much for someone to guess that something seriously awful had happened to him.-from Artificial Happiness, currently unposted

8. It's descriptive, maybe a little too much so. But I like the originality━it's short, concise, and hopeless without being dramatic or cliche. I'm curious about the character━what is he going through? Who is he?When James Foley was younger it was popular to have oneself genetically modified in such small ways as eye or hair colour. In his many travels, he had been quite the subject of awe and fear among Medieval lords and ladies especially, as well as several star-systems' worth of human colonies and the occasional extraterrestrial, but the interesting thing about James was that no one had ever met him━not that they could remember, anyways. It wasn't that he was not memorable━oh, was he━it was simply that James did not exist yet.

Sure, he was then and there, but by the unspoken laws of existence, he was not.

James was entirely content in this knowledge. The easy forgetfulness with which he was often treated━"Oh, dear, I've never seen you before"━was indeed his reason to be then and there: had he wished to be remembered, he would never have returned.

It was several years after the genemod fad fizzled reluctantly out, leaving millions of thirty-year-olds sporting awkward red eyes or champagne-coloured hair, that James Foley discovered the underground group of crazies that were infamous for their obsession with travelling time━in fact, he never would have discovered them had it not been his home from which they chose to borrow electricity. More than a little irate, he stomped down three sets of carved stairs, across a dozen Oriental rugs, beneath a precariously dangling crystal chandelier, and eventually through a heavy French glass door onto a sculpted lawn, and as soon as he was free of his threshold he yelled, "Stop stealing my electricity!"- Foley's Folly

10 10 10This was the most exciting part—the darkest moment. The moment when you’re sure you’ll get caught, but you’re also not, but you’re hopeful it will happen just so you can experience the anxiety and adrenaline of almost. This was that kind of feeling; the blood coursing through my veins, my mind hyperaware of everything and nothing would be able to stop me. This was the feeling of almost.

I jumped over a chest of money, landed on the stone, rolled onto my knee, and opened another stone chest. Inside, it was full of gold—shillings, euros, teeth, American half-dollars, roman coins, jewels. I was literally sunned to see the sight. Where had they gotten all of this?

I didn’t wait too long. I dunked my hand into the chest, pulled out some coins and necklaces and jewels, and pushed myself to a stand. Blue was already heading for the door, stuffing the loot into her messenger bag. I jumped over the chest again, sprinted across the room, and narrowly missed getting crushed by the sliding vault door. It didn’t close all the way, Blue just pulled it against the stopper on the left side.

“Help me,” she commanded, grunting as she tried to pull the door back onto the step. This wasn’t made for just anyone to open and close, it was made only for Fredrick’s hyperadrenal assistant.

I had no choice but to help her. I dropped the gold and rushed to her side, where I grabbed handholds on the door and used all of my strength to pull it up and onto the step, but it wouldn’t budge. Come on, I thought to myself. You’re hyperkinetic, you can fucking do this. Do it. I tried harder and harder, pulling up and back with the door, but it didn’t move. Come on, I told myself. I tried harder; I could feel the veins popping out of my arms and hands as I struggled against it. In one last heave up, the door followed us and settled into place on the step with a loud thud.

“Shit,” Blue cussed under her breath and scrambled to grab the loot I’d dropped to help her. She began stuffing it into her satchel, trying to get it all, but there were approaching footsteps in the distance.

Almost.-- the shadow hunters

10 I FUCKING LOVE IT SO MUCHMuch to James's mild shock, there was a spaceship in his front yard. A young man stood outside of it, staring down in obvious confusion and continuously brushing a thick mop of dark hair out of his eyes. He looked up as James approached━"Who the hell are you?" James said.

"Atlas," he said cordially, lifting his gaze from the startling state of the spaceship. It surprised James to see that his eyes were of a normal colour. "I take it you're from around here?"

Speechless, James nodded.

"Good," said the alien, getting annoyed by his hair and pulling a skullcap from his back pocket. He tugged it on, matting down his hair forcefully, "I hope you've said your last goodbyes, mate."

"Why?"

"Haven't you heard?" The alien gave James a wicked grin. "Some jack on this planet decided to meddle in time travel, which is forbidden under the law of the Universe. So they sent me to play copper."

James didn't like the look of smug self-content the newcomer wore. "And you think you're going to stop a bunch of crazy teenagers? You must be new here."

Atlas looked down at his ship in discontent. He shrugged. "I guess," he said, kicking a stray bottle. "Wait, do you assume I meant I'm alone?"

"Um, yes." James's eyebrows went together. "Aren't you?"

He chuckled a quite condescending laugh, like that of a father watching his child play on a playground. "Of course not," Atlas said, staring up into the sky, "we're not that moronic. I'd recommend getting out. Taking a nice vacation to Betelgeuse━forever."

And with that, Atlas pulled the sky down.- Foley's Folly, ch 2

eight, I really like it!

--

I take a seat at the table. My head is pounding and my stomach is churning. There’s only one way to get over this comedown and that’s to come right back up to where I was last night. I snatch two more cans off the table, down them and go in search for another bag of that pure, beautiful speed.

I stroll back into the sitting room, see a few of the dead looking bodies have arisen and are now drinking the few remaining cans.

Their eyes are glassy and bloodshot, their bodies limp and weak. This is what drugs do to you and the only solution is to get your fix again. And again. And again.

James throws me a bag from across the room. “Here man, that what you’re looking for?”

“Yeah, thanks man,” I grab the bag in the air and pour it out onto the coffee table and snort a long, thick line.

I look up and smile at everyone, “Happy Christmas, boys.”

- When I'm Gone ch. 1

nine. I like it! Nice descriptions, and it flows - to me anyways c:“You don’t have to hide it,” Eren continued, still in that low and smooth voice, “Found in the marshes, alone, beside a beast ripped to shreds. That beast was huge; there was no way you alone could have possibly done it. You have strange markings on your neck, chest and shoulder, and you-“ He paused and pointed at the wall behind Sake, “Have no shadow.”

Sake froze. Damn. He had been exposed. How had he not been so careful? Eren looked at Sake and smirked lightly, as if satisfied that he had caught the other out.
“What are you really?”

A moment of silence fell between them, as heavy as a thick blanket. Sake looked at the bread roll in his hands. “I am Sake, and I am an Exorcist.”

Thread resurrection.

It's nice and dark, elements of fantasy and shadow. Not my favorite, but I like it. 8.You were like a hurricane in all the worst possible ways: you blasted down my door, gushed water all through my house and efficiently soaked everything in it below knee level, and ripped apart the walls I've been building to keep you out. You're so inconsiderate, it's pathetic. I wish you didn't exist.

I used to really admire you. You were everything I wanted to be - cool, laid-back and friendly, smart and inventive. I wanted to be that. I was never like you, I don't think you knew that. It's all a facade, I swear to whatever God you love that I'm just another sad guy living on his own with a bunch of fucking cats and no idea what I'm trying to accomplish.

Maybe if you weren't such an insensitive dick-clog you'd have noticed how much you can change someone.

This stupid house is the worst fucking house I've ever built. It's pretty, don't get me wrong, but it's horrible. The ceilings are too high, the halls are too wide. I'm always feeling lonely here, lonely and sad and like nothing I do ever makes a difference in the world. That's all I want, is to make change. I want people to see that there's beauty in change. There's beauty in everything, old friend, if you look closely enough.

But not you. There's no beauty in you anymore.

.

8, it was amusing!

„No, sorry. You need to stay. Someone needs to fight off those chicks and who’s better for the job—„

„Than a person, who had been reported on violence towards students? This is a job for Bailey, not me.” I argued, crossing my arms over my Slayer t.

„Bailey’s too... aggressive.”

„Damn sure.” She agreed emptying the glass.

„Is that booze?” Stephany's blue eyes landed on Bailey’s empty glass and later on the flask which was so carelessly laying on the table.

„It’s medicine. I have a prescription from the doc.” Bailey replied simply, searching her pockets for her cigarettes. „It’s either this or it’s me getting in a fight.”

„You both really shouldn’t be teaching...” That was a little too obvious, but knowing how none wanted to work for pennies, Stephanie wasn’t left with different options than employing these shitheads.

„That’s true.” Chris added, resting his hands on his stomach as he leaned against the chair back.

„Chris, I don’t even wanna start with you...” --- Danger Line

This is such a great idea for a thread, and I want to try to revive it!

I'd give that excerpt a 6. I like the dialogue and I do feel I can slightly get a sense of the characters and overall tone of the piece, but at the same time I feel like I'd appreciate it more if I knew the characters better, and this excerpt alone doesn't really compel me to read more.

Hair of the Dog:

Quote

For the second time in recent history, Hawkeye awoke uncertain of his surroundings or the events of the previous night that led him to them. This time was much worse though (which was saying something considering last time he’d been mysteriously injured.) He was lying on the ground outside, and a quick survey of the area told him he had no idea where he was.

Also, he was naked. Did he even wanna know why that was? He was naked in the middle of nowhere with no idea how he’d gotten there.

And...was that—? Blood. There was blood on him. What the hell had he done? He inspected himself briefly. It wasn’t his blood. Maybe it wasn’t even human; it smelled different from the blood in the OR.

Aha! He found a feather, probably from a chicken by the looks of it, although he was no expert on birds.

So, he’d probably harmed at least one chicken at some point. And clothing had apparently been optional during these wild escapades.

He didn’t feel at all hungover, so he hadn’t been drinking. His brow furrowed. That wasn’t at all reassuring. No, that wasn’t good at all. If he was blacking out and doing crazy stuff when he was apparently sober then there was a pretty good chance he had really gone off the deep end.

7. I like that it starts off vaguely amusing and we're wondering exactly how much he's been drinking, but it then descends into this really dark place at the end. It's a total turnaround, which makes me curious to read on. The only complaint I have is that I don't really know the character too well, so I'd like more description of that in there.

Unfinished / unedited / subject to change except of a future chapter of Tommy GunsAnd then everything came crashing back into focus like a tidal wave hitting the sand. Ruedi took in a large breath, shocked at how difficult it was becoming to fill his lungs. His breathing was coming in short gasps, his chest hurting with every single convulsion. Where sound had once evaded him, Ruedi could now hear the cacophony of noise that the battle being waged around him threw out. He could hear screaming — whether it was his own or somebody else’s, Ruedi couldn’t tell — and gunshots, and explosions, and the strangled shouts of men falling all around him. He had to get up. He had to help. He was a medic, it was his job to ensure that the men on the battlefield made it out alive.

A stabbing pain and a strong set of hands stopped him from pushing himself to his feet. Letting out a groan of agony, Ruedi fell back again, gritting his teeth as he fought the darkness that was eating away at the corners of his vision. The wildfire in his chest had flared up again and this time, it was targeting every breath he was drawing in. As the air rushed down his throat and into his lungs, it felt like a thousand tiny razor-sharp blades were tearing him apart. He cried out again — perhaps it had been him screaming just a few moments earlier — as the same hands that had stopped him from standing pressed into the very epicentre of the pain.

"I know it hurts, Schmidt, I know that but I've gotta apply pressure. We need to stop the bleeding.”