Something for you to read and critique..
So, I'm editing my novel for the Young Novelists' Challenge on absynthemuse.com
First, let's take a look at my NaNo progress:
Well, I'm at 72K. I want to pound out another thirty thousand words. But my story is making me incredibly SAD. Why? Well, you see...
The characters leave their home to immigrate to Canada because of an Illness (which only affects people after puberty).
One of my characters is sixteen, the last girl to not get the Illness when she hit puberty. She is pregnant (three months, which is no big deal in this seriously outdated community). She leaves with her brother and her brother-in-law who is going to be a surrogate father.
Well, her brother falls in love with her (he has Amnesia. He doesn't realize incest is unethical.)
She loves him as a brother.
Anya-the girl-has her baby. It's born with the illness. It dies.
Arron-her brother-gets sick and dies.
She's going the wrong way and reaches the country on the other side of the ocean. (I think it's Russia.)
The End.
But it's so sad and heartbreaking and I CAN'T WRITE IT.
Please, find my muse and my evil-ness, bring it back, let me kill them, let me write it... Please?
The obligatory kitten update:
Damien and Shane have grown a bit. I got some medicine to get rid of worms and all their other assorted sicknesses, and it's working wonders. I have even cuter kittens!
I've noticed that when I'm home all day, Damien's really cuddly. When I go to school he's like "you evil bitch how dare you abandon me!" Hah.
Shane is cuddly ALWAYS. He's also taken up whining at me for humant food.
And their both curled up, asleep, cute, behind me. Aww!
This is the first part of my novel. Please critique!!!
Prologue
Many years ago, the Centaurs came to Earth. They colonized the planet; they were humanoid, not traditional centaurs from mythology. They left behind a few tokens of their society, a few riddles on the planet, before they left again. They didn't really leave; they died out. When they were all gone, the first Human was born.
Humans never knew of their extraterrestrial forefathers. They did not know there were fairies that lived on the moon; they did not know much of anything about the universe beyond their own planet.
Many myths were based off reality. Angels were really a lighter version of Dark Ones, who were fair skinned but they had black hair, eyes, and wings. Fae were real-they lived on the Moon, except for a tribe which were banished to Earth-and so were wizards.
Eventually, though, humans decided the myths were lies. They came up with science, and everything became 'modern'. Capitalism was born. Airplanes were made and flown; trains were created; satellites and countless other inventions, computers and more, were created. The visible truth of them replaced the invisible truth of the Fae.
On the moon, they lived a peaceful life. The kingdom was old fashioned; they still used silver rock for money, not paper. Such a thing as a market still existed. And, of course, there was the Queen. But they were also highly scientifically advanced. Using a combination of magic and science, they had such things as teleporters. Their computers were few and far between; but the ones they did have were far more advanced.
In fact, they had, before Earth even got computers, begun cloning. It all began with a woman named Cecilia.
Cecilia was a scientist who had been ostricized and shunned by others who worked in the same field; she was told her dreams were ridiculous. They studied human genetics; she studied Fae genetics. She was trying to recreate-clone-a moonfairy. Despite her funding, it looked hopeless to all the others; they had given up on convincing her, though.
Her exploits were well funded; she was given nearly ninety million moon dollars (the closest English equivalent of their word) to create her clones a year. With it, she asked to move to the other side of the moon-away from those who thought her dream was hopeless. The Queen of that age wanted an army; she didn't care where it came from.
So she created a state-of-the-art laboratory facing the Earth. She moved there, underground, with her two assistants. There she began her centuries of work.
After three hundred years, she came up with her first prototype clones. The first three or four couldn't actually function in normal society. Their movements were jerky, their language halted. Cecilia made three more versions until she was satisfied. They were blond, blue eyed, and able to function in the real world. Like a moonfairy, they had the genetics to grow. And she watched the first one do just that-it was born as a seven year old boy fairy.
During her fourth century of work, the Queen who had previously been funding this work died. All funding was cut. Out of anger Cecilia demanded an audience with the Queen. The new Queen listened to her for about twenty minutes; then, with a simple 'no', the scientist was sent away.
She and her assistant sent their five working clones to work dayjobs. Together, they began to create a new set of clones-the embodiment of the perfect warrior.
Cecilia worked hard to design them carefully. She created six hundred. Each had the feathered wings of an angel-but the wings were black.
The part of her project she worked hardest on was their minds, though. She designed them to be very different from the Fae who had said she would never succeed. She implemented tactical, strategic war information. She gave them knowledge about weapons. But most importantly, she removed something all other living things have:
Emotion.
The result was a group of beings-six hundred-who fed off of the emotions of others, but could not feel anything themselves. She created them to live as long as there was fear, hate, jealousy, greed, despair, and anger.
With her mind and her assistant, she created a race of emotionless warriors. Then they killed her.
One of these beings later helped in the conquering of the world. She watched as one of her partners in crime was killed by a Lainayr, one of a dying race. She watched as the most powerful sorceress in the world lost her only sister.
And she watched that woman blow up the Earth.
This story is what happened to her-and others-after the explosion.
Chapter One-Neavera
“Astarael, why am I here?” Neavera looked around the Gray Land. Only a few others were there, and most of them were also Dark Ones.
“You're not actually supposed to be dead, which poses a problem. You're supposed to be murdered in two million years, not dead already!” Astarael looked completely furious. Her waist long black hair was totally staticked, and she was trying to do a million things at once.
“And so I'm here?”
“Well, for now, anyway. I have to get something. Hold on.” She turned around and drew the symbol for Jupiter in the air. A locked wardrobe appeared. She opened it and pulled out a chain with three keys on it. She turned to Neavera after pulling a disappearing act with the wardrobe.
“What are those for?” Neavera looked at her incredulously.
“Well, you see... When a Dark One or any living thing dies before it's time, I usually haven't completed it's dimension unless others were meant to go there after their deaths. So, with intelligent life forms, I give you three keys. One is for the gate on the left, which leads to the dimensions of happiness and or peace. One is for the gate on the right, which leads to all the variants of 'hell'. One is for the gate behind me, which leads to dimensions which are neither, and where you can watch dimensions being constructed.”
“Um, so I basically get to explore the land of the Dead?” She had never heard of this before; of course, there weren't many people who came back from the dead. She supposed Jesus could've mentioned it, but he hadn't.
“Basically. Anyway, I have work to get to. Ring this bell if you need me-but be careful to ring it only when you really need me. It's for emergencies only, and will send you to the pits of despair if you're not careful with it. Then it'll disappear with the keys.”
“Fair warning. Alright. Bye.”
Neavera walked away. Her black eyes traveled over the grim landscape. She herself was the supposed image of perfection, being a clone. She had very little fat and stood tall and proud at 5'8. Her hair was long and black, her face unscarrred, her bust a few inches. There were little curves, but nobody would notice them. She was very pale. Behind her a pair of black, feathery angel wings were folded, soft looking and swift. This was a Dark One. She was supposed to have been murdered in two million years? Well, murder was the only way she could die... Thanks to a huge ass explosion, however, she was already dead. Wonderful.
She scanned the landscape. There was nobody she knew there; she could see magi in the train stations, but probably low level...
There were train stations and train tracks leading into the gates on the left and the right. Neavera watched two trains pull into the stations, crowds of humans getting on. With mild amusement, she noticed that the train leading into the hellish regions was more full. After about fifteen minutes of standing around, trying to make a decision, she decided to hell with it. The nearest gate was the left gate. She walked through it and into-
A white train station. Stairs led down into a beautiful marble city. Everything was bright, and this was the first location for those who were meant to die into happiness. Five people had gotten off the train, and she followed them down the stairs.
People were everywhere. At last estimate, a hundred billion or so humans had lived over the years, and now... Along with fairies and elves, there would have been nearly six hundred billion dead, since she knew the humans had guessed too low. There would also be all sorts of animals here, and everyone would probably be getting along. It was the sort of place she couldn't thrive unless she could make them fear her-and that was easier than she would have thought, even though she usually scared people very quickly.
A girl in a white and silver dress was writing in a pale blue notebook. Neavera wondered what she was writing about, leaning up against the tree. As she passed, the girl looked up. Neavera stopped dead-she had seen this girl before. This girl had been a Magi student, one of the ones who had been visiting Shaiyanne to discuss the Hall Of Despair-she herself had been almost finished her training to become a teacher at the Hall. In four or five more years, she would have been found in classrooms teaching about her subject, New Age Religion.
She was dead now. The Hall Of Despair still had life in it, having multiple dimensions it could reside in, including the one where Shaiyanne and Tara had come from. Both sisters had been raised under the same roof, but Neavera knew that Tara wasn't full blood like Shaiyanne was. She was a crossbreed between two lower races. It wasn't important though.
“Neavera. Hello.” The student nodded her head in respect and stood up.
“Hello, Ari. I see you died, too. You came here? Dressed in white?”
“Well, I didn't have much choice. This is, apparently, my dimension. The black robes got such a reaction that I can't wear them and have people leave me alone for twenty minutes.”
“Ah. Well then. What are you writing, Ari?”
“Just a story, not much. It's about the Hall of Despair. Think history lesson turned into something a little more interesting.”
“Interesting. Well, I'm exploring, so I'll be on my way.”
“Good bye, Neavera. Come by again, hm? It's almost funny to see how scared of you they are.”
Neavera walked through the town, wondering where she would have gone if she had died in two million years.
Good luck with your NaNos to everyone participating! Oh, and in the pic? That's Shane, being cuddled by my aunt Melissa.
First, let's take a look at my NaNo progress:
Well, I'm at 72K. I want to pound out another thirty thousand words. But my story is making me incredibly SAD. Why? Well, you see...
The characters leave their home to immigrate to Canada because of an Illness (which only affects people after puberty).
One of my characters is sixteen, the last girl to not get the Illness when she hit puberty. She is pregnant (three months, which is no big deal in this seriously outdated community). She leaves with her brother and her brother-in-law who is going to be a surrogate father.
Well, her brother falls in love with her (he has Amnesia. He doesn't realize incest is unethical.)
She loves him as a brother.
Anya-the girl-has her baby. It's born with the illness. It dies.
Arron-her brother-gets sick and dies.
She's going the wrong way and reaches the country on the other side of the ocean. (I think it's Russia.)
The End.
But it's so sad and heartbreaking and I CAN'T WRITE IT.
Please, find my muse and my evil-ness, bring it back, let me kill them, let me write it... Please?
The obligatory kitten update:
Damien and Shane have grown a bit. I got some medicine to get rid of worms and all their other assorted sicknesses, and it's working wonders. I have even cuter kittens!
I've noticed that when I'm home all day, Damien's really cuddly. When I go to school he's like "you evil bitch how dare you abandon me!" Hah.
Shane is cuddly ALWAYS. He's also taken up whining at me for humant food.
And their both curled up, asleep, cute, behind me. Aww!
This is the first part of my novel. Please critique!!!
Prologue
Many years ago, the Centaurs came to Earth. They colonized the planet; they were humanoid, not traditional centaurs from mythology. They left behind a few tokens of their society, a few riddles on the planet, before they left again. They didn't really leave; they died out. When they were all gone, the first Human was born.
Humans never knew of their extraterrestrial forefathers. They did not know there were fairies that lived on the moon; they did not know much of anything about the universe beyond their own planet.
Many myths were based off reality. Angels were really a lighter version of Dark Ones, who were fair skinned but they had black hair, eyes, and wings. Fae were real-they lived on the Moon, except for a tribe which were banished to Earth-and so were wizards.
Eventually, though, humans decided the myths were lies. They came up with science, and everything became 'modern'. Capitalism was born. Airplanes were made and flown; trains were created; satellites and countless other inventions, computers and more, were created. The visible truth of them replaced the invisible truth of the Fae.
On the moon, they lived a peaceful life. The kingdom was old fashioned; they still used silver rock for money, not paper. Such a thing as a market still existed. And, of course, there was the Queen. But they were also highly scientifically advanced. Using a combination of magic and science, they had such things as teleporters. Their computers were few and far between; but the ones they did have were far more advanced.
In fact, they had, before Earth even got computers, begun cloning. It all began with a woman named Cecilia.
Cecilia was a scientist who had been ostricized and shunned by others who worked in the same field; she was told her dreams were ridiculous. They studied human genetics; she studied Fae genetics. She was trying to recreate-clone-a moonfairy. Despite her funding, it looked hopeless to all the others; they had given up on convincing her, though.
Her exploits were well funded; she was given nearly ninety million moon dollars (the closest English equivalent of their word) to create her clones a year. With it, she asked to move to the other side of the moon-away from those who thought her dream was hopeless. The Queen of that age wanted an army; she didn't care where it came from.
So she created a state-of-the-art laboratory facing the Earth. She moved there, underground, with her two assistants. There she began her centuries of work.
After three hundred years, she came up with her first prototype clones. The first three or four couldn't actually function in normal society. Their movements were jerky, their language halted. Cecilia made three more versions until she was satisfied. They were blond, blue eyed, and able to function in the real world. Like a moonfairy, they had the genetics to grow. And she watched the first one do just that-it was born as a seven year old boy fairy.
During her fourth century of work, the Queen who had previously been funding this work died. All funding was cut. Out of anger Cecilia demanded an audience with the Queen. The new Queen listened to her for about twenty minutes; then, with a simple 'no', the scientist was sent away.
She and her assistant sent their five working clones to work dayjobs. Together, they began to create a new set of clones-the embodiment of the perfect warrior.
Cecilia worked hard to design them carefully. She created six hundred. Each had the feathered wings of an angel-but the wings were black.
The part of her project she worked hardest on was their minds, though. She designed them to be very different from the Fae who had said she would never succeed. She implemented tactical, strategic war information. She gave them knowledge about weapons. But most importantly, she removed something all other living things have:
Emotion.
The result was a group of beings-six hundred-who fed off of the emotions of others, but could not feel anything themselves. She created them to live as long as there was fear, hate, jealousy, greed, despair, and anger.
With her mind and her assistant, she created a race of emotionless warriors. Then they killed her.
One of these beings later helped in the conquering of the world. She watched as one of her partners in crime was killed by a Lainayr, one of a dying race. She watched as the most powerful sorceress in the world lost her only sister.
And she watched that woman blow up the Earth.
This story is what happened to her-and others-after the explosion.
Chapter One-Neavera
“Astarael, why am I here?” Neavera looked around the Gray Land. Only a few others were there, and most of them were also Dark Ones.
“You're not actually supposed to be dead, which poses a problem. You're supposed to be murdered in two million years, not dead already!” Astarael looked completely furious. Her waist long black hair was totally staticked, and she was trying to do a million things at once.
“And so I'm here?”
“Well, for now, anyway. I have to get something. Hold on.” She turned around and drew the symbol for Jupiter in the air. A locked wardrobe appeared. She opened it and pulled out a chain with three keys on it. She turned to Neavera after pulling a disappearing act with the wardrobe.
“What are those for?” Neavera looked at her incredulously.
“Well, you see... When a Dark One or any living thing dies before it's time, I usually haven't completed it's dimension unless others were meant to go there after their deaths. So, with intelligent life forms, I give you three keys. One is for the gate on the left, which leads to the dimensions of happiness and or peace. One is for the gate on the right, which leads to all the variants of 'hell'. One is for the gate behind me, which leads to dimensions which are neither, and where you can watch dimensions being constructed.”
“Um, so I basically get to explore the land of the Dead?” She had never heard of this before; of course, there weren't many people who came back from the dead. She supposed Jesus could've mentioned it, but he hadn't.
“Basically. Anyway, I have work to get to. Ring this bell if you need me-but be careful to ring it only when you really need me. It's for emergencies only, and will send you to the pits of despair if you're not careful with it. Then it'll disappear with the keys.”
“Fair warning. Alright. Bye.”
Neavera walked away. Her black eyes traveled over the grim landscape. She herself was the supposed image of perfection, being a clone. She had very little fat and stood tall and proud at 5'8. Her hair was long and black, her face unscarrred, her bust a few inches. There were little curves, but nobody would notice them. She was very pale. Behind her a pair of black, feathery angel wings were folded, soft looking and swift. This was a Dark One. She was supposed to have been murdered in two million years? Well, murder was the only way she could die... Thanks to a huge ass explosion, however, she was already dead. Wonderful.
She scanned the landscape. There was nobody she knew there; she could see magi in the train stations, but probably low level...
There were train stations and train tracks leading into the gates on the left and the right. Neavera watched two trains pull into the stations, crowds of humans getting on. With mild amusement, she noticed that the train leading into the hellish regions was more full. After about fifteen minutes of standing around, trying to make a decision, she decided to hell with it. The nearest gate was the left gate. She walked through it and into-
A white train station. Stairs led down into a beautiful marble city. Everything was bright, and this was the first location for those who were meant to die into happiness. Five people had gotten off the train, and she followed them down the stairs.
People were everywhere. At last estimate, a hundred billion or so humans had lived over the years, and now... Along with fairies and elves, there would have been nearly six hundred billion dead, since she knew the humans had guessed too low. There would also be all sorts of animals here, and everyone would probably be getting along. It was the sort of place she couldn't thrive unless she could make them fear her-and that was easier than she would have thought, even though she usually scared people very quickly.
A girl in a white and silver dress was writing in a pale blue notebook. Neavera wondered what she was writing about, leaning up against the tree. As she passed, the girl looked up. Neavera stopped dead-she had seen this girl before. This girl had been a Magi student, one of the ones who had been visiting Shaiyanne to discuss the Hall Of Despair-she herself had been almost finished her training to become a teacher at the Hall. In four or five more years, she would have been found in classrooms teaching about her subject, New Age Religion.
She was dead now. The Hall Of Despair still had life in it, having multiple dimensions it could reside in, including the one where Shaiyanne and Tara had come from. Both sisters had been raised under the same roof, but Neavera knew that Tara wasn't full blood like Shaiyanne was. She was a crossbreed between two lower races. It wasn't important though.
“Neavera. Hello.” The student nodded her head in respect and stood up.
“Hello, Ari. I see you died, too. You came here? Dressed in white?”
“Well, I didn't have much choice. This is, apparently, my dimension. The black robes got such a reaction that I can't wear them and have people leave me alone for twenty minutes.”
“Ah. Well then. What are you writing, Ari?”
“Just a story, not much. It's about the Hall of Despair. Think history lesson turned into something a little more interesting.”
“Interesting. Well, I'm exploring, so I'll be on my way.”
“Good bye, Neavera. Come by again, hm? It's almost funny to see how scared of you they are.”
Neavera walked through the town, wondering where she would have gone if she had died in two million years.
Good luck with your NaNos to everyone participating! Oh, and in the pic? That's Shane, being cuddled by my aunt Melissa.