very good improvement, i love how you guys divide it up into small chunks, i can't really harness that, any way great story if not sorrowful.
very good improvement, i love how you guys divide it up into small chunks, i can't really harness that, any way great story if not sorrowful.
A nation of sheep will beget a a government of wolves. Edward R. Murrow
Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness. —1 John 2:9
Small chunks - paragraphs.Originally Posted by master of the puppets
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I like to use paragraphs and sentence length to set the pace of the story, short sentences=fast. A few long paragraphs seems to be slower at times and short paragraphs are little snippets of fast action.
Thanks! I really tried to make this better, but still the same story. What do you think of the POV switch at the end?
"A man's dying is more his survivor's affair than his own."
C.S. Lewis
"So many people tiptoe through life, so carefully, to arrive, safely, at death."
Jermaine Evans
for a few seconds there i had no clue what was happening to tell you the truth, but a quick reread showed that it was a german. mabey you can make it a bit clearer by adding something like "in the dark of the bunker i looked down upon them" or mabey you wanted it to be abstract in that esteem. i dunno your writing the story, i attempted (and failed miserably) at writing a story that jumped once. started with a roman legionair on the battlefeild, he is fighting and is killed by a swordstroke, not missing a beat the story instantly went to that killer who fights for a while and is killed by several arrows, in an instant it is in the eyes of one of those archers, suddenly barbarian cavalry are rushing at the archers, death imminent, before he dies it switches to the lead cavalryman who sees the archers and speeds full charge, they are intercepted by legionairs who hit them in the flank the cavalry are killed, arrows suddenly rain down upon the legionairs,they form testudo, the view switches to those barbarian archers who are struck by cavalry, the cavalry man looks around and declares victory. in the end it gave the impression of utter chaos, mabey you dso it better.
A nation of sheep will beget a a government of wolves. Edward R. Murrow
Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness. —1 John 2:9
I know, changing the POV like that is tough. I wanted to make it a bit of a fluid yet suprising shift, like you would not expect him to die and all that, but it ended up a bit too choppy. As a writer I think it is the hardest thing I have attempted thus far, I am probably going to release an editted version with a smoother transition, but I am probably going to move on to something new soon, more short stories. Maybe something with a POV shift, so I can practice. Thanks for all of the comments, it will help me choose POV in the future.
"A man's dying is more his survivor's affair than his own."
C.S. Lewis
"So many people tiptoe through life, so carefully, to arrive, safely, at death."
Jermaine Evans
good story
We do not sow.
The Finest Hour
The sand swirled in the wind as the scorching sun beat down upon us. We were all alone, none of our allies had come to aid us. We were alone, left high and dry, without support. We were all tired, so tired. We could barely stand in our heavy plate, many of us shunned our armor and wore only the padding. I dropped my breastplate and instead wore a cloak I had taken from a Saracen. Even this was not much better, the musky smell of the man permeated the cloak. We coulkd see the dustcload thrown up by our foes. So many of them, yet we would not retire from the field. This was where we would stand, or fall. My heavy sword hung loosely from my hip, my shield embedded in the soft sand. My gear was being shipped back home, it was no use in that hellish desert.
I stood beside my brothers, all eighty of them. The only warrriors left standing after our crusade to retake the holy land. Perhaps the muslims are right, maybe our God abandoned us on that horrible plain so that we would never again bother his chosen sons. I never thought this at the time. If a warrior doubts his cause he will surely die in battle. Besides I was young and eager, even if God did abandon us I was confident in my skills and my brothers.
The Saracens are near now, I unsheath my sword and lift my shield from the sand. My brothers do the same, if only more of them had lived. They were my life for those fateful days. I lived with them, ate with them and killed with them. There can never be a closer bond between men.
They charge, I fell into the gaurd position. It was almost comforting, though death was possibly a mere instant away my training had conditioned me to find comfort in the pose.
I slash out at the nearest Saracen, he falls and blood spatters my face. I kick him and free my sword. I reel backwards, a mighty blow shattered my shield and almost knocks me from my feet. I grasp my sword in two hands and slash hard and low, his bowels flow freely as he falls to the sand. I parry a blow, no need to protect the blade now my life is more precious. I stab the offending man in the the gut and kick my sword free again. I feel my brothers falling around me. My heart turns to ice, what if they all fall?
I shake the fear away and keep fighting. The next spear wielding Saracen to charge me is decapitated, during a momentary lull in the battle I stoop and gather up his shield, he has no more use for it. The screams of the dying fill the air, but a more horrible sound fills my heart with dread.
Arrows.
I can hear them whistling through the air, I stoop and stab a man low, in the crotch. In the same fluid motion I lift my shield and guard my body against the arrows. One strikes my shield, it splinters and cracks. I try to drop it, but it is stuck. The arrow has struck my wrist and held fast, I cannot extract it without leaving myself open to attack. I grit my teeth and fight through the pain.A fierce flash of pain and heat spreads through my back, I fall to my knees. As I fall i see the man who has struck me down. That man is a mere boy, no more than 15, but still he dropped me. So few of us still breathe, the battle has died down and I can hear the few remaining men gasp for ragged breaths, clinging to life. So sure we are of our God yet we refuse to give up life and travel to Heaven. Humanity is hypocrisy.
I hear galloping, the horses of some nobles, come to exult in their victory. With the last of my strength I force my hand tyo release my sword. Maybe they will mistake me for one of their own? God knows I am dirty enough to share their complexion. Maybe I will yet live, in this robe, nailed to this shield. They lift me up. The pain is unimaginable, I can feel my blood soak my cloak, but I cannot gasp out, the pain is past that. It is so great I am paralyzed. I slowly fade, fade away. My vision blurring and the circle of light fading away. Mys enses dull and finally I succumb to the darkness.
I may start doing a series of these if I get more ideas for it. I have a few, but I may start doing a series with a later or previously done short story. Hope you enjoyed it! BTW he isn't quite dead yet in the end. Woops meant to put t6his in Short Tales, oh well it is a new POV.
Last edited by Uesugi Kenshin; 04-15-2005 at 03:41.
"A man's dying is more his survivor's affair than his own."
C.S. Lewis
"So many people tiptoe through life, so carefully, to arrive, safely, at death."
Jermaine Evans
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