A
female
age
30-35,
*onfused265
writes:I wanted to get a strangers opinion before i showed this to any of my friends. so what do you think? any suggestions would me most helpful. this is just a little short story i wrote. wolfMy house grows dark with every passing moment of terror. I await what some believe to be my end and the end of others. The sun has set in the valley below, leaving it completely unprotected from that which has so driven me to the point of no return. I feel absolutely cold, as if all life had been drained from my very being. Shadows dance all around me, causing quite a tremble in my joints. All is calm on this night, not a single creature stirs, except for I. every man, woman, and child is tucked safely in there beds, away from the terror that I know is upon them, that I know is upon myself. I sit peering out my window, utterly grief stricken. I am alone in this house. My love has gone, as well my children. They have been slaughtered through violent means. Deep in the darkness I hear them sing to me, my lost ones. I wonder if I too will be next, what if I am doomed to be dead like the rest. Moonlight shines down upon my face, casting the darkness out of the chamber. With each passing ray of light I hear, I hear the heart beats of the innocent, of my fellow man. They are like instruments, instruments of death. The stars seem to go out, leaving the moon as the only source of energy in this world. Wolfs howl in the night, they sing the song of terror. I know my time draws near, I know I must surrender. In the midst of the moonlight he comes, the wolf, in all his danger and glory. He stands silent upon the lawn; he glares into my eyes as if to tell me something. His eyes glow yellow, his teeth grow sharp. His presence grows strong. Suddenly, I am prepared to fly with him, to fly with death. The kill is upon me. I cannot prevent it, not while he’s around, not while that wolf so possesses me, not while I am cursed.
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male
reader, anonymous, writes (17 June 2012): I actually love your writing style... it's honestly read as if it were a river running and your words were dancing across the page. Loved it
A
female
reader, anonymous, writes (31 May 2012): Write like a river flows and then cut every unessential word.
Shadows dance all around me, causing quite a tremble in my joints.
Becomes:
Shadows dance around me and I tremble in my joints.
Deep in the darkness I hear them sing to me, my lost ones. I wonder if I too will be next, what if I am doomed to be dead like the rest.
Becomes:
In the darkness, my lost ones sing to me.
Am I next?
Am I doomed like the rest?
Suddenly, I am prepared to fly with him, to fly with death. The kill is upon me. I cannot prevent it, not while he’s around, not while that wolf so possesses me, not while I am cursed.
Becomes:
I am prepared to fly now the kill is upon me.
etc etc
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A
female
reader, confused265 +, writes (30 May 2012):
confused265 is verified as being by the original poster of the questionYes i know i cannot publish anything i put online. this is just a little writing exercise. i want to know what people think of my work. I have actually written three full length novels i hope to get published some day.
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A
female
reader, chigirl  +, writes (30 May 2012):
 You need to create your own account, it's not polite to use someone else's, besides you're robbing yourself of any credit.
I must also add, that if you have intentions of publishing anything and making money out of it, you can not have published it online already. No company will buy your book, or stories, if they are already online. So just keep that in mind.
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A
female
reader, confused265 +, writes (30 May 2012):
confused265 is verified as being by the original poster of the questionI hate to break it to you guys, but i am actually not confused 265. this post is by a male writer around the same age. Confused will be gone for the next few days, thus i have access to her computer. i am actually looking after things for her. sense i was too lazy to create a new account i used hers to post this.
so you are actually addressing a male on this post. I am sorry I could not let confused take credit. the story can be interpreted multiple ways. you see i am actually compelled to write things down through thoughts that come to be in visions. i had a dream of the event described in the story, thus i wrote it down. that's all there is too it really.I really must get around to creating my own account on this site, most places i go by the name JL Reaper.
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A
female
reader, anonymous, writes (29 May 2012): I think it is wonderful. The aunts here always welcome a new and good writer and we welcome you too.
I could almost feel the wolf biting at my throat.
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A
female
reader, chigirl +, writes (29 May 2012):
This is just my personal review. Not that I am professional, but I've done a bit of beta-reading and online writing too.
You've got a lot of description, which is good. Many start off with just action, which becomes difficult to associate with. However, your descriptions are also difficult to associate with. They don't give me a feeling of terror. You're just saying "be scared", but you're not really giving me a reason to be scared, or filled with terror. You're just writing about a person who says she is frightened. But you're not giving the readers a scare.
One idea is if you write it in 3rd person. Describe the woman who sits in the window. Don't say that she is scared, describe it so that readers know she is scared, and feel it themselves.
It is also unclear what you mean. The woman is in a house, why would a wolf on the outside be scary? Is it a were-wolf? Is she a were-wolf herself? Play on this a bit more, and don't leave things so much out in the open for interpretation. End the story with a sharper realization: maybe the woman herself is the wolf who killed her family. Although, that still leaves the question: why would she fear death?
Try going on several different writing forums for beta-readers and other writers like you. Fanfiction.net for example, or quizilla.com (places I used to hang out at). Other forums appear and disappear constantly.
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