Forums » Writing Workshop » Read Thread

Greetings, guys! I'm starting on a story game called the Firefly, which is about a slave who is chosen by the king and queen of his country to go serve as the harvest offering to the shadows. He must travel through caverns of darkness before he can finally meet their domain. The only object they are given is a lantern, which will fend away the Shadows until it is extinguished. If you want a long summary, read the description below my profile. The following is the first page, feel free to give me some constructive criticism:

The soft glow of the rising sun shone on the creek in which your master had decided to hitch his horse. A soft gurgle of bubbles emmiting from the twists in the water's path, you gaze at the tell tale signs of a young morning. Your eyes sparkle at the sight of the open woods, but the grumbling dog at your side reminds you of your condition. Hands dirtied and weathered reach toward your hazy sight, rubbing your flitting eyelids.

Off through the oaks you see a meadow, how you wish you could go off and feel the fall breeze in your long hair and watch the butterflies drift across the flowery gardens planted by nature. But alas, you are stuck here, a slave of the trade routes. Ever since you were able to walk, you had a bundle on your back or a tool in your hands. Freedom is still an abstract concept to you, for you have never experienced it.

Now you are traveling to the Alforin castle, a bustling city, still a slave. You are called like any citizen to attend the Offering ceremony, and while being a young boy, poetientally be picked to go down to the caves. The Caves, such a frightening thought! Your body shivers at the very thought of the caverns that make up the Shadows domain. Being a slave of the trade route, you had been so adjusted to nature and its greatness, whether it be a gift to witness, or a curse to be kept from, you couldn't imagine being away from it. Yet every year someone is, a great honor, though. But still, not worth your life.

But then again, there wasn't any other way to keep the darkness away it seemed, for the king Isnin, son of Finein, had promised the Shadows the offering of a boy every harvest. Wicked! he was, to make such a promise! And now as the evil approaches, nobody is prepared, and the darkness has grown.

If you want to critique every word or whatever, I am all ears. Seriously, what are your thoughts?

"Hands dirtied and weathered reach toward your hazy sight, rubbing your flitting eyelids."

"...young boy, poetientally be picked to go down to the caves."

"Yet every year someone is, a great honor, though. But still, not worth your life."

"Wicked!..."

"And now as the evil approaches, nobody is prepared, and the darkness has grown."

^ Please correct those.

Also, you are trying too hard. Yes, I can tell.

Thanks for the advice, I'll look into those. As for the other part, I will see if I am trying too hard. It is often easy to FORCE yourself to write, so thanks for the reality check. Just let the words flow...

Here I have revised the third paragraph as it looked like a good place to start. I tried to loosen it up a bit:

Now you are traveling to the Alforin castle, still a slave. You are called like any citizen to attend the Offering ceremony, and being a young boy, potentially picked to go down to the caves. Your body shivers at the very thought of the caverns that make up the Shadow's domain. A slave of the trade route, you have been so attuned to nature and its greatness, and you can't imagine ever being away from it. Every year though, someone is given this great honor, and will never come back to retain it.