An opinion please, thanks!

SJW

Happy hour in the city. The grey and shadowy landscape of a metropolis after sundown, was only broken by the noise of laughter and music emanating from a popular bar. Unseen by alcohol impaired eyes, a rat poked it's head through a small opening in the wall, on the inside of Farrelly's Bar. It checked carefuly left and right before pulling the rest of it's body through, keeping close enough to the wall as to not draw any attention from the clientel. Scurrying as only a rodent can, the rat made it's way along the skirtingboard, over cigarrette butts, through puddles of spilled beer and zig-zagged it's way through the obstacles of various bar stools and chairs. Finally reaching the corner of the bar where the wall changes direction, the rat stopped and turned it's head skyward. A lone bottle of whiskey stood undisturbed and unopened on an unattended shelf. The rat surveyed its surroundings, before dragging a customers
nearby coat and placing it on the floor directly below the bottle. With spider like ability, it scurried up the wall and onto the waiting shelf, still unseen, still unheard. The bottle of whiskey was easily nudged, and easier still toppled, and fell unbroken onto the perfectly positioned coat below. The rat followed the bottle down without hesitation and began to roll the bottle as close to the wall as it could using it's front feet to guide it and it's back feet to power the movement. It rolled it back through the maze of bar stools and chairs legs, through the puddles of spilled beer and over the cigarette butts until it reached the hole in the wall. With consumate ease, the rat spun the bottle in one movment so that it lined up with the opening and pushed it through.
It was a lot colder out there in the alley, no dancing feet to avoid, no peoples screams to fear, just the dull thud of music and a lone man sitting with his back against the opposite wall. The man blended in with the grey and the shadows of the alley seamlessly, like some kind of urban chameleon. His clothes were a patchwork of dirty greys and browns, layered and frayed and alltogether too old and threadbare. His beard shared the appearance of his attire, tattered and gruff, his nose was crooked and bulbous, but his eyes wore a smile. The rat continued to roll the bottle, and made its way across the narrow alley where it stopped at
the mans feet. "Good girl Alice", said the man in gravelly tones. "Back in you go". Without pause, the rat scrambled up the mans leg and stuffed itself into the right pocket of his coat, nestling in, and finding comfort. It was home. The man, chuckled to himself, a satisfied rumble as he reached down and picked up the whiskey, picking at the label with dirty fingernails. With a crack the seal was broken and the drink tasted. "Your turn Cyrill". A second rat appeared in a magician like reveal from an inside coat pocket and scuttled pub-wards.

reality

Clever! Sentiment nestled in subtle wit - I like

SJW

reality wrote: »

Clever! Sentiment nestled in subtle wit - I like

thanks a mil for the comment! I really appreciate it!

LiamMc

yes.. very nice. I liked it.

Grievous

I liked that. It was very enjoyable and well written.

My only advice would be to break it into more paragraphs.

I hate reading something too cluttered.

Peace

elleA

This made me smile I love the wonderful wit and warmth in the words.

I'd just say watch the spelling and grammar. There are a few errors in it e.g "cigarratte" should be "cigarette" and "alltogether" should be "altogether". It's really easy to make mistakes when you get a great idea in your head and just run with it. I always have to make lots of corrections when I proofread my stuff. It's easy to forget little things like remembering that "it" is not possessive.

heinrichaussler

Yeah, I just love how you put the words and sentences together. There's a talent in being able to take a simple, childlike plot and spin wonder around it like you have.

Great effort.

SJW

thanks a million for the advice and comments! I'll be sure to take it all on board

Poppy78

Well written, short and sweet, it made me smile. Do put breaks between your paragraphs though, I wasn't going to read it because I am tired from looking at a screen all day. Glad I did though.

Happy121

I agree with all of the positive comments here.

A nice piece of work.

El Guapo!

I really liked it, well done. Are you going to continue on with this story?

SJW

Dean09 wrote: »

I really liked it, well done. Are you going to continue on with this story?

Thanks for the comment! It's actually an excerpt from a novel I'm working on, so I was just looking for some feedback, which is greatly appreciated!

SJW

This is another piece from the novel I'm working on. Any comments and critique would be great! Thanks a million.


It had been just an hour since the performance, and Ella found herself in the bike sheds behind the school crying. She had to run to escape the unexpected and frightening reaction to her singing. It was strange, she thought, that the audience maintained an eerie silence during the song, she was sure it was the calm before the inescapable tirade of abuse headed her way once the melody stopped, but that didn’t happen.

It was their faces that scared her the most, the look of vacant delirium and unrelenting awe, worn on each and every expression, every man, woman and child, every ear tuned in to her vocal exhibition. The tear streaked cheeked gathering hung on her every syllable and it frightened her to death.

It was too much, almost unnatural. Then came the cries for an encore, the exasperated pleas for a second helping of delicious rhapsody. Then the pleas turned to demands, to angry shouts and then to threats. She ran when the crowds began clambering onto the stage, baying to sample her voice once more.

nodirectionhome

Great- love the descriptives, could actually see the rat!!!

ddef

mate, that second piece was pure gold. I smiled reading the last few lines. The tone was constant, imagry was clear and focused and the overall atmosphere of the piece was great.

Only piece of critism I could give is "she found herself crying". I think that just "she was crying" would work a bit better. "she found herself crying" I beleive implies she was embarrased or ashamed to be crying, which is nonsense if angry audience members are attacking your stage.
Maybe I just need to know the character better, it might be more appropriate then.
Brilliant work man, keep it up. You have an obvious talent.

SJW

ddef wrote: »

mate, that second piece was pure gold. I smiled reading the last few lines. The tone was constant, imagry was clear and focused and the overall atmosphere of the piece was great.

Only piece of critism I could give is "she found herself crying". I think that just "she was crying" would work a bit better. "she found herself crying" I beleive implies she was embarrased or ashamed to be crying, which is nonsense if angry audience members are attacking your stage.
Maybe I just need to know the character better, it might be more appropriate then.
Brilliant work man, keep it up. You have an obvious talent.

cheers dude! You're dead right about the crying part also, it does work much better. Your comments will definitely make me write some more. Thanks again.

Iamsparticus

Hi

Really liked both pieces. They're sort of playful but with a sinister undertone. Makes for enjoyable reading.

One criticism, had to reread the line, The tear streaked cheeked gathering hung.... a few times, bit of a mouthful. Apart from that both pieces flowed very nicely.

Would definately be interested in seeing more excerpts.

SJW

Another excerpt from the same story. I know it's a little long and it kind of starts in the middle of knowhere, but I would really appreciate some feedback. Thanks a million in advance.


“My dear Jasper”, Badger said mimicking a grand accent, every bit a dignitary from a Kings court, “It gives me enormous pleasure to accept such a fine gift from an exceptional gentleman such as yourself.”
Badger then grabbed the bottle, and opened the seal to taste the whiskey, remembering to leave his little finger aloft in a gesture befitting the accent. “Yum yum, Jasper. Yum yum.”
The two men collapsed on each other in raucous laughter, and toasted each others health. Linking arms they marched along the grey streets, parading with heads held high, two all conquering vagrant warriors, custodians of a different society, a society of small victories and little moments of satisfaction that they new the day dwellers could never understand.

They strode happily from street to alley to street again until they came to their destination. This bar was most certainly closed, with no happy hour there. In fact there was nothing at all happy about this neighbourhood. It was known to be crime infested, a nasty corner of town that was to be avoided. Jasper and Badger made their way down the narrow passage to the right of the bar to the buildings rear.

The service entrance to the bar looked very much closed. There was no activity or lights to speak of and Jasper was ready to leave just as Badger rapped loudly on the metal door. Jasper hated this part of town, and could never find the same excitement as Badger did in braving the dangers it held. Almost instantly the door swung outwards, bringing with it the smell of alcohol and a warm waft of central heating, both of which visibly excited Badger.

A heavily built man, with a ruddy complexion held the door ajar and fixed the two shaggy intruders with a glare of distain. He styled his hair like a man refusing to accept that he was losing it all, and his suit was at least a size too small for his rotund frame. He also looked like money was a commodity readily available to him, as gold rings adorned every finger, giving his fat fingers the appearance of sausages.
“What the hell do you want, I won’t have two beggars like you stinking the place up, now get out of my sight, before I lose my temper”, grunted the doorman.
“We’re here for the race”, Badger pronounced sheepishly, fearing to meet his gaze.
“You two?”, chortled the doorman, “I think you may find yourselves a bit out of place in here, and I wouldn’t want your feelings or anything else to be hurt. Now, go away”.
“Come, on” Jasper said as he tugged at Badgers sleeve, “Lets just leave”.

Just as the door began to close, a second man appeared behind the doorman. He was slender and wiry, and standing beside a fatter man gave the pair the look of some sort of comedy duo, two extremes paired together for a performance. He wore an expensive looking suit, a deep blue in colour, and his hair was slicked back with far more product than was needed. His nose protruded awkwardly from his face, and looked as if it had been broken on more than one occasion. Despite this, the man, exuded an air of importance and confidence that made the doorman noticeably uncomfortable.
“Do they have the money?”, he said half to the doorman and half to Badger.
Badger nodded before the question was relayed to him by the custodian and produced an envelope from within his jacket, quickly handing it over. After a quick check of the contents the slim man asked his second question, this time directing it at Badger, bypassing his guard.
“Do you have a contestant?”, he sneered.
“We certainly do”, Badger admitted, clearly growing in confidence and beginning to enjoy the back and forth.
“Then I bid you welcome, gentlemen, to The Crown and The Hound, where dreams come true, and nightmares endure. Don’t bet what you can’t pay and you can go on your merry way. This way please”, said the blue suited man as he ushered Jasper and Badger inside with a boney finger. The door closed behind them with a thump and a slide of a heavy lock as the pair realised that there was no turning back now.

Oryx

That last segment was faultless, I loved it. No criticism to give.

sexdwarf

Lovely turn of phrase, really enjoyed all three pieces! Just remember your 'it's' versus your 'its', and in a few places you have some unnaturally placed pauses and commas, all easily sorted!

SJW

Hi, everyone! Here is another piece from the same novel I'm working on, I would love some opinions, thanks! Sorry for the length


A split second of silence was shattered by the blast of a high pitched whistle, which in turn was drowned out by an eruption of noise from the onlookers.

Eight doors sprung open from the eight numbered coloured boxes, and from each emerged a rat. Each rat had a coloured and numbered vest on them to match the lane it was in. Confused and very obviously disorientated, the rodents shuffled along inch by inch at different intervals, sniffing and feeling their way along the uncomfortable environment.

The crowd watched on, screaming encouragement to their chosen contestant, each man looking more desperate than the last for victory. Still the rats shuffled on, number three was in the lead by quite a way.

Rip Van Reader looked on with a satisfied smugness, his eyes alight, running his fingers along the rim of his hat. The two boys, Rips young protégés, stole a look or two at the race from behind their wooden screens. Still the rats shuffled on, they were past the second bend, with two to go, and it was number five who lead.

Jasper noticed Henry Skinner, the local butcher pushing up close behind him, blaring inaudible messages to contestant number four and showering the back of Jaspers neck with spittle. Jasper also caught the aroma of mince from Henry which made his stomach rumble. Badger was getting more and more into proceedings, even adding his own hollers of approvement when the leader was overtaken. Still the rats moved on, runner number six had made a late surge moving around the last bend.

This was the final stretch and the volume of the gathering increased ten fold. Screams of despair and delirium fought a battle for audible supremacy as victorious contestant number six crossed the finish line first. Some hats were thrown in the air, some betting slips were torn asunder and tossed to the floor, and finally the bellows died down to a nice even rumble of conversation which made Jasper feel all the more comfortable.
“Next race in five minutes”, announced Rip. “Winners claim your winnings, entrants for the next race prepare your contestants”.

The two boys emerged from behind their screens with baskets and proceeded to serve a queue of gentlemen that had formed to the left of the track behind one section of velvet rope. Each gentlemen handed over their winning slip, and received their winnings, satisfied to the last man. Jasper noticed how few from the large congregation had actually won, and also noticed that the rest of the crowd were already readying their cash for the next event.

“Ok Jasper, lets get this done”, said Badger tugging at his sleeve and guiding him through a gap in the velvet rope. They joined a small group surrounding the set of eight coloured boxes on the track. It looked like seven of the traps were already occupied, leaving the number one empty.
“A good omen?”, murmered Jasper.
“Don’t jinx it!”, countered Badger.

“No rat has ever won running from box one”, sneered a rival entrant, looking Badger and Jasper up and down with distain. “It’s cursed they say, and I hope it remains so. These good people aren’t here to see their money won by two louts who will just drink the winnings within an hour or two”.

The remark brought a few sniggers from the rest of the entrants and more unsavoury looks. Jasper ignored them, and produced Cyrill from his inside coat pocket. He attached the small coloured number one vest and tied it carefully at his pets undercarriage. Bringing Cyrill close to his face, Jasper whispered a few words in his ear, unheard by the rest.
“You know what to do here my pet. In five minutes you will be back in your comfort, and in ten minutes more you won’t be able to move in there for the cheese and chocolate I will buy you.”

With that Jasper put Cyrill inside of trap number one, and closed over the small door to lock him inside. Pet and owner exchanged looks through the tiny grid in the door before Jasper, Badger and the rest of the owners returned to join the rest of the crowd behind the velvets ropes.

The pair of bet taking boys completed their latest run quickly, but not before Badger placed a wager of his own on Cyrill. He produced the second brown envelope from inside his gruff coat, double checked the contents and placed his bet of 3,640 quid. On receiving the betting slip, he squeezed it so hard within his grip that Jasper thought it would disintegrate in Badgers hand.

“No more bets”, announced Rip Van Reader once again, as he drew the focus of the onlookers. This was it, all or nothing and Jasper started to sweat. Badger shot a glance his way complete with cheeky smile, revelling in the enormity of the situation they found themselves in.
“Stay cool, you know you can trust your little friend, has he let you down yet?”, Badger queried.
“No not yet”, answered Jasper, “I’m just not at all comfortable here, the sooner it’s over the better, no matter the outcome”.

As the tension grew within the hall, Cyrill was the picture of calm within his box. He looked across at his opponents and squeaked a brief melody of high pitched notes, to which the other rats replied with a single note of their own in turn. He was ready. With that, the whistle sounded again and the trap doors flew open to a rapturous bawl.

The rapture soon turned to mumbles of confusion as not a single rat emerged from any trap. Quizzical looks were exchanged, shoulders were shrugged and yet nothing moved. Van Reader had taken one foot from his podium, intent on seeing what was causing such a delay, when the nose of a solitary rodent emerged. It was Cyrill in trap number one.

Cyrill scuttled forward at his leisure and made his way around the first bend. The crowds murmurs had dissipated and now the hall was silent except for the tiny patter of rats feet, as Cyrill swept around the second and third bend. Every eye was fixed on his movement, every thought bent on his journey. Wide eyes and wider mouths made up the expression of every patron as Cyrill crossed the finish line alone, still the only contestant to leave his trap.

“And the winner is contestant number one”, muttered Rip through his red and white striped megaphone, the words falling listlessly from his lips without thought, his mind desperately trying to figure out what had just happened. He removed his bowler hat with his other hand, to reveal his balding crown. Still the crowd looked on in disbelief.

Badger made his way to the section of velvet rope where the winning were claimed as Jasper moved to the finish line of the track. He layed his hand flat allowing Cyrill to scramble up his arm and into his inside pocket. One of the young boys approached Badger coming from behind his screen and exchanged a bundle of cash for his betting slip. A second bundle of cash was handed over for the owner of the winning contestant. Badger hurriedly stuffed the money evenly into three coat pockets and moved to join Jasper who had already found his way to the back of the crowd, who themselves were still transfixed by what they had witnessed.

The guard at the padded door was happily reading a comic book, oblivious to the obvious change of mood within the chamber and barely offered the pair a glance as Jasper and Badger left through the door.
“I’m glad we won, but I really can’t see how people could come here daily, some of them may be successful on some days, but do any of them return home truly happy?”, Jasper said as the two made their way back through winding concrete halls.