And Her Fingers Danced Across The Keys - Comments

Ma aplec in fata ta pentru ultimul capitol. Extraordinar! Ai o finete minunata in descrierea delirului.

Legaturile sunt minunate..... O noapte... o zi... mama... tata.....viata ei aproape programata de pana atunci..... si apoi zbuciumul cosmarelor.....

O lucrare nemaipomenita pentru care te admir.

Si sa fiu putin rea, in primele capitole exista propozitii care au mult prea multe cuvinte..... si isi pierd din muzicalitatea narativa (ca sa zic asa)... Oricum, ultimul capitol este de o calitate rar intalnita pe mibba.

Aww, Sheepy. :arms:
You must be the greatest reader in the history of Mibba.
That comment made me smile, blush, laugh a little, and, generally, it made me wanna hug you!:arms:
I'm gonna take the stuff you said into some serious consideration.

Thanks. :mrgreen: :crazy: :yah[/smiley abuse]

Ack, sorry this took forever:cheese:

As she lay entangled deep in her royal-blue sheets, she raised her hands against the sun and gazed at the light passing by her fragile, translucent skin. As if life had stopped passing for a handful of moments, she admired the beauty of the plain, often ignored sun rays, as they got through the window glass, to her fingers, and past them, on her face.

WOW. Your description is nothing short of mindblowing. I don't even completely comprehend how you've done it, but you've drawn me in completely.

The piano looked positively inviting for the unknowing eye. Its beauty screamed in silence, it tempted to touch. For her eye though, it was as if it released a chant of calling, a chant of deep want, as if it longed for her as she longed for it.

The connection you make between her and her instrument is very insteresting. It's almost as if the piano itself is an entity, a being of it's very own, and one so paralleled with her own self that they could easily be seen as one. It's not even a need, it's just an unyielding want. And unearthly attraction to eachother, but one so mutual and perfect at the same time.

Every morning before breakfast, his Angie came downstairs after playing her beloved piano for a good fifteen minutes. She'd smile and giggle at the sight of her also beloved father pretending to read the paper. Then, she would run to him, and hug his seated figure from behind, closing her eyes at the soothing sensation she had as she heard his deep, mature, yet lovely laughter and felt his caress on her arm.

Such a wonderfully seamless introduction of the father. Again, paints such a wonderful picture of their connections, their friendliness between eachother. It's his passion as much as hers, and so they all coexist perfectly. Their personified idea of heaven.

After hours, or seconds, or whatever it may have been, for time stopped existing too, the sounds stopped suddenly, with a loud thump.

You spent the best part of a chapter depicting an idea of heaven, but a single line to depict a harsh reality. It's like you've told us already, that sound, music is heaven. So what is the one thing that could be represented by the harshness of silence?

Sense-less, broken images and ridiculous messages haunted her dreams. She opened her eyes, surprised not to see a yellow light bouncing all the way to her face. It was still night. Angelina knew that those dreams were no happening. It seemed to be because she had stopped playing so suddenly. She had left her piano incontent.

It's amazing, the way to convey the piano to be a seperate being, and yet it doesn't seem to be a ridiculous idea. She lives for the piano, she lives through it, and it is little more than an assembly of wood and ivory without her. They are not complete without eachother, and so leaving one incontent in turn leaves the other in need to rectify that. Thus proving that the expression of a soul holds no bargain with time. She'd play even at the depths of night, even to utter exhaustion, simply because she wants to.

The silence laid in coats upon the house was highly eerie. There was no marvelous piano playing. There was no joyful laughter. There was no interested conversation between father and daughter.

When a chapter starts like this, in a story so based around the joy of music, you know something bad has happened. The last three sentences of this section, how they all start out the same way, is a really good effect, one which you employ well.

The table had already been laid for breakfast, and, while reading the newspaper, he was waiting for his daughter to do her usual morning playing, and then to come downstairs, give him his kiss and embrace, and then they would have breakfast and set off to another great day of summer.

I might be very wrong with this, but the end of this sentence doesn't seem quite right, it doesn't seem to flow with the rest of the sentence. Perhaps so that they would have breakfast, instead of and then they would have breakfast..? I'm not sure, that's just how it seems from my perspective.

She knew that if she got up, her eyes would surely fall upon the piano, which she did not want to play anymore.

This was a complete slap to the face, if for nothing else, for the huge and perfect, the magnetic connection between her and the piano, and how now, abruptly, viciously, she has severed that.
The vague mention of the mother, what she might have done, how that has affected her playing, does a lot to render me utterly curious as to what the mother indeed did do. What could have been so horrible as to stop this girl wanting to be with what could essentially be called part of her soul?

This time, it was real blackmail. The emotional kind of blackmail. The love she felt for her father, profound, strong, complete, made her hesitate about not playing.

Again, this is just nitpicking and feel all to free to prove me wrong, put should it perhaps be a semicolon after the word 'father'?
That's the only critique I have for this section, otherwise, it's masterfully arranged. Wonderful cliffhanger to the chapter as well.

An endless stir. A night-long bouquet of convulsions. The action of writhing in pain under the heavy burden of unforgiving memories.

I loved this part. So perfect, wonderfully descriptive, yet equally destroying, how a single memory can turn even the greatest of heavens into a nightmarish hell. I could find not fault whatsoever with this chapter, save for the fact that it is the last one posted.

As her father did his personal best to console the troubled teenager, she felt and showed no improvement. Everything was headed in a straight, bad, line.

Until one day. When everything got worse.

I both love and despise cliffhangers. Love, because most of the time they are executed with utter perfection, such as this one, and despise simply because I hae an unyielding want to know what happens next, why it got worse, more of a revelation about Angie's past regarding her mother.

But nonetheless, I thoroguhly enjoyed reading this, I can only apologise that it took me so long to do so.

So it's been a while, but I just read chapter four, and let me tell you: I'm falling more in love with it every chapter. This was so poetic! It was just beautiful.
I'm glad you appreciate the criticism, and I was happy to see you took my advice and changed it. It makes me giddy to know I actually have an impact on something. :P

Just two little things again to say:
1) "Perhaps the most disturbing call was the duet her piano and the waves crashing into the cliffs underneath the villa." -- I thought this was beautiful imagery, but it's technically not a complete sentence, because there's no verb. You just need to tweak it to say something to the effect of "duet made by..." or "the duet played between" (if you're looking toward the musical side of things).
2) "The only visual memory of her mother was of her playing the piano with her back at Angelina, when she was but a little girl." -- Again, this is great, and a very powerful image, but the syntax that's usually used in the case would be "with her back to Angelina" instead of "at".

Keep it coming, I'm still a devoted fan!

~Audra (and the Goidelic-Goddess)

DarkAngel007:

Hey, it's me again! Once again, adored the chapter, and eagerly await the following installment. I agree with Rice, above, that her father seems mysterious.

Since you asked for constructive criticism, I feel I have a duty to offer it (as a kindred spirit, of course). There isn't much to say, since I love your style, and it's clear that you take some pride in the knowledge of the English language, but I do have a few suggestions:
1) "She startled" is, technically, incorrect, since "startled" is an adjective in this case. The verb you would be looking for here is "to be", therefore the gramatically correct phrase is "she was startled".
2) Just as a matter of diction (I can't claim that this is wrong, as it really is something to be left to your discretion), I would choose to use the word "gaze" as opposed to "look" in the context that it has been used at the end of the chapter. Raising one's "look" sounds awkward to me, but, again, that is a matter of opinion.
I hope I don't seem too presumptuous with the above comments.

~Audra (and her alter-ego, Goidelic-Goddess, who fancies itself talented).

:D Honestly, you're the first one to actually take my suggestion and give me criticism. I appreciate that, along with your sincerity. And, truth be told, I kind of agree. I was actually not really okay with "she startled", and, if I think about it, to raise a look does sound weird. I think I might edit that.:)Thanks.

Hey, it's me again! Once again, adored the chapter, and eagerly await the following installment. I agree with Rice, above, that her father seems mysterious.

Since you asked for constructive criticism, I feel I have a duty to offer it (as a kindred spirit, of course). There isn't much to say, since I love your style, and it's clear that you take some pride in the knowledge of the English language, but I do have a few suggestions:
1) "She startled" is, technically, incorrect, since "startled" is an adjective in this case. The verb you would be looking for here is "to be", therefore the gramatically correct phrase is "she was startled".
2) Just as a matter of diction (I can't claim that this is wrong, as it really is something to be left to your discretion), I would choose to use the word "gaze" as opposed to "look" in the context that it has been used at the end of the chapter. Raising one's "look" sounds awkward to me, but, again, that is a matter of opinion.
I hope I don't seem too presumptuous with the above comments.

~Audra (and her alter-ego, Goidelic-Goddess, who fancies itself talented).

I like this story...i beleive there is something shady going on about the father, I thought for sure he was going to FORCE her to play. really very interesting. I cannot wait for thenext chapter. Hopefully some questios will be answered.
x
Rice

I just read the new chapter, it's really good. Your story is really different and I like how you give just enough information to keep me guessing. And the way you develope the relationship between the father and her, but you add conflict between her and the mother, but you don't disclose a lot of information on it. I'd also love to help edit if you need it too.

So I just finished reading the second chapter, and I must say that I'm intrigued. Your style of writing is fabulous, and quite unique, as is your story. I like the foreshadowing, or mystery if you'd care to call it that, that you've introduced with the concept of her mother, as well as the description of the relationship between father and daughter.
Keep up the fantastic work, and if you'd ever like help with editing, I'd be happy to lend a hand.