(FEB Challenge) The Hunter (2,562 words)
jpg.writer
The Hunter
by J. Gaines 2003
The grass was green, I mean really green. Everything in sight burned
with color, shimmering as if it were a jewel caught in a spark of
sunlight. A line of trees stood in the distance, and to my left, a
pasture filled a square outlined by a hedge of tight holly bushes.
Beyond that, nature rolled in painted flavors as far as my eyes could
focus.
That was the point where the scene always began.
The trees crested a hill, so I headed that way, thinking perhaps I
would see into a valley, or maybe there would be a house on the other
side.
What I found was a fountain. Standing five feet high and made of fine
crystal, the water spouting from it was clear enough to see through to
the trees on the other side. The trickling of water sounded distant.
Yeah, I must be dreaming this, I thought.
"Dennie, do you know where you are?" it asked softly; the words came
from the fountain. Then I heard a light, amused laugh, and out of the
corner of my eye, I saw a small shape flitter by.
"Where are you?" I yelled, surprised that my voice had taken on the
same distant quality as the water. I watched the outline of the
fountain fade to an approximation, and then bleach out altogether in a
blinding light.
***
Sunlight, bouncing off my white, unembellished walls, gave me an
instant headache. Coffee--a double espresso--was the only way to get
me functional for work and not walk in front of traffic. My feet hit
the floor, and before I could summon a good excuse to call in sick, I
was out the door and walking to the train station.
The dream comes about once a month, and each time I get a little
further in, discovering it like a jig-saw puzzle doled out a piece at
a time. I don't believe in psychics, or visions, and the supernatural
is always explained by science. Obviously, my damned subconscious
just wanted me to figure something out, what that would be, I have no
clue. I don't repress or make nice when I'm angry, my childhood was
squeaky normal, and there are no unaccounted gaps in time to hide
buried memories or alien abductions.
"So what do you want?" I asked slapping my forehead. White noise
droned in my head, obliterating any possible answer.
The train dropped me off two doors from the office, a glass fronted
complex with marble tile, fresh flowers and three elevators to get you
to your floor tout suite.
"Mr. Aimes, good morning. Here's your coffee." Vernon, the local
java mogul, never missed my schedule and always had a cup waiting.
He passed it over the counter, pushing a shaker of sugar with it. His
cart shared the lobby with security, and another vendor that didn't
open up until eleven. He looked tired this morning, and the speckled
Formica counter was sticky from spills. The smell of scorched coffee
wafted from his machines.
"Much of a crowd today?" I asked, sipping my addiction.
"Not bad for a holiday," he replied.
"Holiday? Which one?"
"President's... you know an excuse to stay home for the bankers and
the mailmen," Vernon said in a nicotine rich brogue.
"Yeah, while the rest of us wished we were off playing. See you
'round."
I nodded to Stan at the guard desk on my way by, and headed up to my
office, Aimes & Worth PR.
The sounds and smells of the street dropped away below my feet,
bringing me to the world of work. The land of Nod, and that fluff of a
dream adorning it, slunk from my thoughts.
I tossed my coat and sat in front of the computer, tapping out
passwords and sipping from the waxy vendor cup. My partner, Johnny
Worth, was in the Bahamas soaking up his girlfriend's good will--time
for me to be productive and earn my keep. If I were lucky, I would
tie up the loose ends on our first big TV campaign. I just had to
approve the final scripts and confirm the production schedule. For
once, I was glad we couldn't afford a receptionist; I liked the quiet.
After an hour of concentration, a trickle of laughter pulled my head
up. The room, of course, was empty.
"Do you hear it?" she whispered.
"What?" I didn't know who I was talking to.
I went to the outer office and looked around. It was still empty. No
one could come off the elevator without me seeing them from my desk.
"I know you can." The voice teased. It was a woman's voice, lilting
and laughing.
Outside, a plane crossed the sun, sending a flash of night through the
room, the opposite of car headlights at midnight. The sound of a
fountain started on its heels, coming from the direction of my office.
I stood fixed to the floor, my mind shifting through all the images
from the dream, feeling the sense I would wake up again, or perhaps
this time I would find out what the sense of urgency was about.
Cool fingers brushed the back of my neck, tickling the downy hairs
that traced the curve of my vertebra. With my heart pounding the air
out of my lungs, I turned.
The voice came from a body rippling with cool, beautiful laughter.
Standing in a beam of filigreed light coming through the tree branches
outside, she was excruciatingly beautiful, wrapped in a red and
intoxicating glow.
"Amber, that's what I'm called."
"Amber?"
"I came to warn you. Stay out of the darkness, the hunter is looking
for you." Her lips, intimate red petals, silently mouthed the words
that formed in my mind.
"Hunter?" I replied, not sure how to put what I was thinking into
complete sentences. "Who is the hunter?"
"Incubus, he moves through the holes in your dreams."
I blinked; she was gone, taking the sounds with her, slipping like a
whisper from my sight.
***
I had decided the surreal encounter in my office was nothing more than
one of the caffeine resistant naps that sometimes claim me. That was
easier to swallow then insanity. Now, this, I was sure was a dream--I
remembered brushing my teeth and could still taste the toothpaste.
"It's different," I mumbled to no one. The landscape was the same as
last night, with color burning into my inner eye. Somehow, it was
darker, and almost imperceptibly, a fog formed, pulling me into
another setting. It looked like fabric being stretched until the
fibers spring open, revealing another pattern behind it. I also
sensed I was not alone.
"Amber?" Her name sounded flat and heavy here. "What are you trying
to tell me?"
Rolling my neck, I counted three pops. This new dream seemed very
real. I stood in the center of a large black square with nothingness
falling to all four sides. In the back of my mind, I understood that
if I fell off, it would be bad.
The fog began to coalesce into a solid form. Its head rose at least
two feet over my own, and the face that slowly emerged had one pointed
ear, sharp like a Doberman, and a black velvet surface that smoothed
over human cheekbones. Flat, tapeworm lips hugged a jagged bite. Its
body, a shroud of black swirling gas, reared and launched.
"I'm dreaming this! I'm dreaming!" I scuttled from the creature, yet
still felt hot breath on my flesh and pressure pulling on my arms.
This isn't real, it can't be. If I yell loud enough I can wake up.
"Ah... Ah!" my mind became cognizant of the subtle difference in
awareness. In that instant, relieved, I knew I was safe and opened
my eyes to prove it.
The creature hovered, a small misshapen cloud to the side of my bed.
I yelled again, ducking under it and to the bedroom door, my heart
pounded through my ears and my feet moved without feeling.
Turned to look back, I wanted to be certain it was gone. My mistake,
its demon head swiveled, and eyes, like cosmic wormholes, sucked the
twilight from the room. I switched on the light, watching the shadows
recede to the corners. There was nothing in the room but me and my
bed.
Sliding to the floor, hands covering my mouth and cheeks, my eyes
darted looking for traces of it. How can a creature in a dream follow
you home? My shorts were wet with sweat and the bed looked even less
presentable. The covers, ripped from their corners, lay in twisted
knots, the pillows had fallen askew on the floor, and the wall was
marked where the headboard had banged.
I crawled hesitantly to the bed, tucking the loose sheets around the
mattress in the neat hospital corners my grandmother taught me. I
tucked the loose top sheet up too, letting the light reach the shadows
under the bed.
Sleeping with the light on, I slipped back to the jewel-toned Eden and
went looking for Amber.
The smell of Wintergreen clung to wet air, and the grass was fleshy,
its dark blades leaning a path toward the fountain, which I followed.
The trees tonight looked wild and dense. Before it always seemed
benign, but now there was something stirring beneath the surface like
a virus before it erupts into a fever.
I saw her through the fountain, her body a prism draped with flowing
water.
"Dennie," Amber said uncertainly. Her arm was out-stretched palm up
to catch the water, which hung frozen in the air, millions of drops
defying gravity.
"What happened?"
"When the dream pulls thin, we change, and he finds us. We have to
find a way to fill the cleft."
I touched a drop releasing its true desire to streak wet across my
fingers. I wondered if I ran through them, would I be cut to shards
or wet with foolishness. This is still just a dream, I told myself.
Her eyes reflected the sun, questioning me. In a dream, you can be
superman if needed.
"Sure," I said. "The Hunter, he's the one with the...?" I put my hand
up by my ear and pulled up. "He's the one I saw tonight?"
She nodded.
"What do I do?"
"You push him back through to his world and replace the seal that
locks him in." Amber ran her hand along her body, fingers
disappearing in the folds of her dress, a sheeting of blue silk. She
placed a disk in my hand. Made of pewter, one side was smooth with a
lip running around the outer edge like a screw; the other side was
etched with a braided line woven in to an intricate knot.
"Where do I find him?"
"He will find you." And with that cryptic remark, she faded once more.
All of a sudden, the water began flowing again, sending a misty halo
around the fountain.
"Hey Mr. Aimes, I've got your number right here."
"What?" A shake of my head released my drowsiness. I realized I was
back at work, another night gone, and I was beginning to feel the
effects of participative dreaming.
"Oh yeah, thanks Vernon. Man, I really need this; there's nothing
better than strong black coffee."
"How's work going with Worth out'a town?"
"Good," I nodded, through a prolonged sip. "We're about to make a
major breakthrough. Once we launch our next television campaign,
everyone will be knocking on our door to do their PR work."
"Creative, eh?"
"The best I've ever done."
"Why can't you use that creativity on your offices, they as dull as
grass... you need some color."
"What?" Vernon looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Dull grass with
no color? He was right about no color, we had no time to aggrandize
our office--we were too busy giving that to our clients.
Color... color, something about color was the key to all this. "Gotta
go Vernon." I pulled out a few bucks and placed them on the counter.
The elevator opened onto the office with the morning sunlight flooding
the space. I left my coffee steaming on the reception desk and began
closing the blinds. The whirl of each set dropping announced the
dimness that blanketed the white plaster walls with a brownish-gray
haze. Shadows began to lunge from the desks and chairs, and the copy
machine sent a monster of shapes onto the walls.
My sketchpad was still on my desk, open to the storyboards I'd been
working on for nearly two weeks. In the shadows, he was there. A
line would protrude with an odd shape to form his ear; on the next
shot a shoulder would grace the edge of the screen. They were both
there in black and white.
There was something tangible in the intangible. I had to figure out
how to pull the fabric back together so it couldn't mix together.
I flipped to a clean page and sketched the pattern on the disk Amber
had given me. That had seemed so real, I'd really expected to still
have it when I woke up. If they were in my subconscious enough to be
sketched, then the disk needed to be there too.
I ripped the drawing from the pad and tore the edges until I had a
round paper version of the disk. I placed it in my pocket and laid
down on the sofa. With the lack of sleep, I had no trouble dozing
off. The grass, trees, and fields rose up around me, stretching
upward until the sky domed overhead.
I pulled the disk out of my pocket; it was pewter again. Now, I knew
for certain, I could control this world, coming and going at will. In
my mind, I conjured up the black square, the gathering place of all
colors. Only this time, the edges came to meet green grass and wild
flowers. The sun remained strong and the fountain, dancing just out
of sight, trickled music over the breeze.
The fog came, as I knew it would. This time its substance was thin in
the bright light, and color poured through the swirling gases.
I held the disk and willed the mass to swirl into the metal, and it
did. Like a vacuum, every wisp boiled into the knotted pattern. I
set it on the black square and began turning it, muttering to myself.
"Lefty-loosey, righty-tighty." The square shrank until only the disk
remained, and grass threatened to hide it completely.
Satisfied, I walked to the fountain. She was there, and for a figment
of my imagination, very fine.
"I'll be going now," she whispered, her lashes blinked slowly over
dark pupils. She and it are the same: pain and beauty, love and hate,
longing and indulgence, black and white… and one begets the
other.
***
As an addiction, coffee satisfied my nerve endings and taste buds.
For my head, it served as inspiration, with its aroma faint over the
smell of paint fumes. The office was now bathed in a visual caffeine
fix, with sunlight accentuating the white sofa and a tray of grass
growing on the windowsill contrasting the mocha walls. I consulted my
drawing once more; the colors were finally in the right place.
The End.
Egad
A few general comments on this one. There were a few places where you chose
words I wouldn't use or arranged them in a way that I wouldn't, but those
are too stylistic for me to nit.
My only real problem with this tale is the anti-climactic ending. No battle
scene, no confrontation, no tension.
I never get the sense that the protag is in immediate danger outside of the
one confrontation scene. I understand that you are somewhat limited by the
word count, but I bet you could cut some stuff and add some stuff and make
this really good.
I am not sure how this fits the love requirement of the challenge, but that
is not for me to judge. You can take that up with the challenge setter.
There was some really nice imagery in this and when there was tension, it
was well done.Great idea for a story, it gave me an idea too.
Thanks for posting
Egad
"jpg.writer" <jpe...@nc.rr.com> wrote in message
news:b5ae4ba3.03021...@posting.google.com...
jpg.writer
> Hey Jpg.
>
> A few general comments on this one. There were a few places where you chose
> words I wouldn't use or arranged them in a way that I wouldn't, but those
> are too stylistic for me to nit.
>
> My only real problem with this tale is the anti-climactic ending. No battle
> scene, no confrontation, no tension.
>
> I never get the sense that the protag is in immediate danger outside of the
> one confrontation scene. I understand that you are somewhat limited by the
> word count, but I bet you could cut some stuff and add some stuff and make
> this really good.
That's an interesting perspective, I wasn't really going for a battle
between his subconsious and waking self, but that's what I got. I'll
give myself a little distance before I re-write and pay attention to
that.
> I am not sure how this fits the love requirement of the challenge, but that
> is not for me to judge. You can take that up with the challenge setter.
I know the love/metaphor would be difficult here. He's in love with
color, and the conflict arises when there's an absence of it in his
life. The requirements did say we could use an "idea" in place of a
person or object.
> There was some really nice imagery in this and when there was tension, it
> was well done.Great idea for a story, it gave me an idea too.
>
> Thanks for posting
Thanks for your comments,
Judie
Wind River
I enjoyed reading this one. At first I thought he was an artist who was
going to direct his dreams through painting to make them real. I wasn't
completely wrong. :)
A few comments in the text.
"jpg.writer" wrote:
> <snipped>
> The dream comes about once a month, and each time I get a little
> further in, discovering it like a jig-saw puzzle doled out a piece at
> a time. I don't believe in psychics, or visions, and the supernatural
> is always explained by science. Obviously, my damned subconscious
> just wanted me to figure something out, what that would be, I have no
> clue. I don't repress or make nice when I'm angry, my childhood was
> squeaky normal, and there are no unaccounted gaps in time to hide
> buried memories or alien abductions.
I think this paragraph should be in the past tense, like the rest of the
story. A stronger verb in the first line would pull us into it more,
too. Something like, "The dream appeared about..." or "The dream barged
into my sleeping life about once..." Dunno, but maybe these thoughts
will help you find the right phrase.
> <snipped>
> "Much of a crowd today?" I asked, sipping my addiction.
Nice tag.
> <snipped>
> I nodded to Stan at the guard desk on my way by,
delete comma since it's a fragment on the other side of "and"
> and headed up to my
> office, Aimes & Worth PR.
>
> <snipped>
> I wondered if I ran through them, would I be cut to shards
> or wet with foolishness.
I like "wet with foolishness".
> <snipped>
> "Creative, eh?"
>
> "The best I've ever done."
>
> "Why can't you use that creativity on your offices, they as dull as
> grass... you need some color."
>
> "What?" Vernon looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Dull grass with
> no color? He was right about no color, we had no time to aggrandize
> our office--we were too busy giving that to our clients.
I got a little lost here, trying to figure out who was talking.
> <snipped>
You have a lot of nice images. I like the idea of color controlling his
worlds, keeping him safe. As a challenge entry, the love didn't come
through for me. My first thought was he was in love with Amber, but the
ending made me think coffee was his addiction and his love. Anyway, I
read your response to Egad and understand now. It's an engaging story,
but it's also crying out to be expanded. It would be nice to really get
into the guy's mind and feel his fear and frustration. Why don't you
take it out of the challenge restrictions and let it take off? It wants
that. :)
Sue
jpg.writer
I'll have to brain storm this one and maybe throw in some plot twists.
Since you and Egad didn't sense the love of color, then I need to go
back to work on this and make the connections firmer. I admit, I was
dicovering the story as I was writing it, so now it's time to put some
conscious planning into it.
Thank you for taking time to read and comment.
Judie.
nativelaw
Hi Judie,
"jpg.writer" <jpe...@nc.rr.com> wrote in message
news:b5ae4ba3.03021...@posting.google.com...
> This was a tough one, nit at will......
>
>
> The Hunter
> by J. Gaines 2003
>
> The grass was green, I mean really green. Everything in sight burned
> with color, shimmering as if it were a jewel caught in a spark of
> sunlight. A line of trees stood in the distance, and to my left, a
> pasture filled a square outlined by a hedge of tight holly bushes.
> Beyond that, nature rolled in painted flavors as far as my eyes could
> focus.
Beautiful opening. "painted flavors" pulls me out since I am looking for
color not taste, but that may just be me
<snip of great writing>
> ***
>
> Sunlight, bouncing off my white, unembellished walls, gave me an
> instant headache. Coffee--a double espresso--was the only way to get
> me functional for work and not walk in front of traffic. My feet hit
> the floor, and before I could summon a good excuse to call in sick, I
> was out the door and walking to the train station.
>
> The dream comes about once a month, and each time I get a little
shift to present tense -- maybe, the dream came and each time I got?
> further in, discovering it like a jig-saw puzzle doled out a piece at
> a time. I don't believe in psychics, or visions, and the supernatural
> is always explained by science. Obviously, my damned subconscious
> just wanted me to figure something out, what that would be, I have no
> clue. I don't repress or make nice when I'm angry, my childhood was
I would put either dashes or ellipses after "figure something out -- " or
maybe even two sentences or semi.
> squeaky normal, and there are no unaccounted gaps in time to hide
> buried memories or alien abductions.
shift in tense -- there were no unaccounted gaps
>
> "So what do you want?" I asked slapping my forehead. White noise
> droned in my head, obliterating any possible answer.
asked, slapping
>
> The train dropped me off two doors from the office, a glass fronted
> complex with marble tile, fresh flowers and three elevators to get you
> to your floor tout suite.
"tout suite" looks funny to me. I know that the proper french phrase (tout
de suite) is botched into this which sort of rimes with "toot sweet" but
maybe you're better off just saying pronto or right away or something else?
just a thought
>
> "Mr. Aimes, good morning. Here's your coffee." Vernon, the local
> java mogul, never missed my schedule and always had a cup waiting.
maybe a hint sooner that the narrator is a male just for clarity and
orientation
>
> He passed it over the counter, pushing a shaker of sugar with it. His
> cart shared the lobby with security, and another vendor that didn't
> open up until eleven. He looked tired this morning, and the speckled
> Formica counter was sticky from spills. The smell of scorched coffee
> wafted from his machines.
>
> "Much of a crowd today?" I asked, sipping my addiction.
sounds funny "sipping my addiction" -- others will like it though
>
> "Not bad for a holiday," he replied.
>
> "Holiday? Which one?"
>
> "President's... you know an excuse to stay home for the bankers and
> the mailmen," Vernon said in a nicotine rich brogue.
>
> "Yeah, while the rest of us wished we were off playing. See you
> 'round."
>
> I nodded to Stan at the guard desk on my way by, and headed up to my
> office, Aimes & Worth PR.
>
> The sounds and smells of the street dropped away below my feet,
> bringing me to the world of work. The land of Nod, and that fluff of a
> dream adorning it, slunk from my thoughts.
>
> I tossed my coat and sat in front of the computer, tapping out
> passwords and sipping from the waxy vendor cup. My partner, Johnny
> Worth, was in the Bahamas soaking up his girlfriend's good will--time
> for me to be productive and earn my keep. If I were lucky, I would
> tie up the loose ends on our first big TV campaign. I just had to
> approve the final scripts and confirm the production schedule. For
> once, I was glad we couldn't afford a receptionist; I liked the quiet.
It wasn't until this point that I knew what "PR" was two paragraphs
above -- maybe spell it out?
>
> After an hour of concentration, a trickle of laughter pulled my head
> up. The room, of course, was empty.
>
> "Do you hear it?" she whispered.
>
> "What?" I didn't know who I was talking to.
>
> I went to the outer office and looked around. It was still empty. No
> one could come off the elevator without me seeing them from my desk.
>
> "I know you can." The voice teased. It was a woman's voice, lilting
> and laughing.
>
> Outside, a plane crossed the sun, sending a flash of night through the
> room, the opposite of car headlights at midnight. The sound of a
> fountain started on its heels, coming from the direction of my office.
>
> I stood fixed to the floor, my mind shifting through all the images
> from the dream, feeling the sense I would wake up again, or perhaps
> this time I would find out what the sense of urgency was about.
I like how this dream is now following him to work...
>
> Cool fingers brushed the back of my neck, tickling the downy hairs
> that traced the curve of my vertebra. With my heart pounding the air
> out of my lungs, I turned.
>
> The voice came from a body rippling with cool, beautiful laughter.
> Standing in a beam of filigreed light coming through the tree branches
> outside, she was excruciatingly beautiful, wrapped in a red and
> intoxicating glow.
>
> "Amber, that's what I'm called."
>
> "Amber?"
>
> "I came to warn you. Stay out of the darkness, the hunter is looking
> for you." Her lips, intimate red petals, silently mouthed the words
> that formed in my mind.
>
> "Hunter?" I replied, not sure how to put what I was thinking into
> complete sentences. "Who is the hunter?"
>
> "Incubus, he moves through the holes in your dreams."
>
> I blinked; she was gone, taking the sounds with her, slipping like a
> whisper from my sight.
>
good stuff
> ***
>
> I had decided the surreal encounter in my office was nothing more than
> one of the caffeine resistant naps that sometimes claim me. That was
> easier to swallow then insanity. Now, this, I was sure was a dream--I
> remembered brushing my teeth and could still taste the toothpaste.
am looking for some orientation as to setting here. Is he back at home?
was
he sleeping?
my mistake; its demon head swiveled -or-
my mistake -- its demon head swiveled -or-
My mistake. Its demon head swiveled,
would all be stronger IMO
I would go with "you could be" to avoiding shifting to present tense
>
> "Sure," I said. "The Hunter, he's the one with the...?" I put my hand
> up by my ear and pulled up. "He's the one I saw tonight?"
>
> She nodded.
>
> "What do I do?"
>
> "You push him back through to his world and replace the seal that
> locks him in." Amber ran her hand along her body, fingers
> disappearing in the folds of her dress, a sheeting of blue silk. She
> placed a disk in my hand. Made of pewter, one side was smooth with a
> lip running around the outer edge like a screw; the other side was
> etched with a braided line woven in to an intricate knot.
>
> "Where do I find him?"
>
> "He will find you." And with that cryptic remark, she faded once more.
> All of a sudden, the water began flowing again, sending a misty halo
> around the fountain.
>
>
> "Hey Mr. Aimes, I've got your number right here."
>
> "What?" A shake of my head released my drowsiness. I realized I was
> back at work, another night gone, and I was beginning to feel the
> effects of participative dreaming.
maybe use the *** there to denote the change
>
> "Oh yeah, thanks Vernon. Man, I really need this; there's nothing
> better than strong black coffee."
>
> "How's work going with Worth out'a town?"
this looks like a contraction of slang which looks funny to me.. maybe
either out o' town, or outta town?
>
> "Good," I nodded, through a prolonged sip. "We're about to make a
Is he speaking or nodding or sipping? some confusion combining them
> major breakthrough. Once we launch our next television campaign,
> everyone will be knocking on our door to do their PR work."
>
> "Creative, eh?"
>
> "The best I've ever done."
>
> "Why can't you use that creativity on your offices, they as dull as
they _are_ as dull as? Also, I think you could improve on "dull as grass"
since grass
does have color (maybe dull as dead grass which has less?)
> grass... you need some color."
>
> "What?" Vernon looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Dull grass with
> no color? He was right about no color, we had no time to aggrandize
> our office--we were too busy giving that to our clients.
>
> Color... color, something about color was the key to all this. "Gotta
> go Vernon." I pulled out a few bucks and placed them on the counter.
>
> The elevator opened onto the office with the morning sunlight flooding
> the space. I left my coffee steaming on the reception desk and began
> closing the blinds. The whirl of each set dropping announced the
> dimness that blanketed the white plaster walls with a brownish-gray
> haze. Shadows began to lunge from the desks and chairs, and the copy
> machine sent a monster of shapes onto the walls.
where was he coming from with coffee with Vernon
if not already in his office? not getting
the logistics, maybe more setting clues that he was on another floor
or somethign
This last line seems to be an abrupt narrative intrustion or explanation
and I'm not sure I get it
>
> ***
>
> As an addiction, coffee satisfied my nerve endings and taste buds.
> For my head, it served as inspiration, with its aroma faint over the
> smell of paint fumes. The office was now bathed in a visual caffeine
> fix, with sunlight accentuating the white sofa and a tray of grass
> growing on the windowsill contrasting the mocha walls. I consulted my
> drawing once more; the colors were finally in the right place.
I'm not getting the line "the office was now bathed in a visual caffeine
fix"?
Kind of lost at the end.... could just be my dense brain.
But I enjoyed the descriptions and the ride. Almost seems like a dream
inspired story.
Huw Lyan Thomas
> The Hunter
> by J. Gaines 2003
>
> Coffee--a double espresso--was the only way to get
> me functional for work and not walk in front of traffic.
Grammar problem there
> The dream comes about once a month, and each time I get a little
> further in, discovering it like a jig-saw puzzle doled out a piece at
> a time.
I'm wondering if you could find a more evocative word than discovering.
Completing? Extending?
> Obviously, my damned subconscious
> just wanted me to figure something out, what that would be, I have no
> clue.
Comma splice. ", but what..." would be one solution.
> "So what do you want?" I asked slapping my forehead. White noise
> droned in my head, obliterating any possible answer.
cut possible, it's implied by "any"
> Cool fingers brushed the back of my neck, tickling the downy hairs
> that traced the curve of my vertebra. With my heart pounding the air
> out of my lungs, I turned.
A couple of problems: he wouldn't be thinking of the downy hairs, though
the person doing it might. He'd be getting more tingling/thrilling/hair
raising sensations. Secondly, the heart pounding air is something of a
mixed metaphor, and will cause some readers to stumble.
> "I came to warn you. Stay out of the darkness, the hunter is looking
> for you." Her lips, intimate red petals, silently mouthed the words
> that formed in my mind.
Would be strong as a hook
> Rolling my neck, I counted three pops.
of his vertebrae? It's not clear.
> Turned to look back, I wanted to be certain it was gone. My mistake,
> its demon head swiveled, and eyes, like cosmic wormholes, sucked the
> twilight from the room.
comma splice again. Try My mistake: its demon head swiveled...
also, I'd cut the final 2 commas from that sentence...
> I touched a drop releasing its true desire to streak wet across my
> fingers.
...and put one of them in there somewhere, perhaps?
> "He will find you." And with that cryptic remark, she faded once more.
I'm not sure that cryptic is the word you need there. It seemed pretty
clear to me :-)
> All of a sudden, the water began flowing again, sending a misty halo
> around the fountain.
Suddenly...
> "What?" Vernon looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Dull grass with
> no color? He was right about no color, we had no time to aggrandize
> our office--we were too busy giving that to our clients.
I'd suggest looking for an alternative to aggrandize, and the final clause
doesn't agree grammatically with what went before - "that" has to be a
noun, while the closest thing that "that" could be - "aggrandize" - is a
verb.
> Color... color, something about color was the key to all this.
Now *that's* cryptic ;-)
> Shadows began to lunge from the desks and chairs, and the copy
> machine sent a monster of shapes onto the walls.
Not sure what machine you're talking about, here.
> As an addiction, coffee satisfied my nerve endings and taste buds.
> For my head, it served as inspiration, with its aroma faint over the
> smell of paint fumes. The office was now bathed in a visual caffeine
> fix, with sunlight accentuating the white sofa and a tray of grass
> growing on the windowsill contrasting the mocha walls. I consulted my
> drawing once more; the colors were finally in the right place.
Lots here to like. You're finding some nice phrasing: the jigsaw metaphor,
the coffee mogul, sipping addiction, the flash of night, filligreed light
to suggest the branches.
You do description well, but maybe apply it with a broader brush than I
would recommend. That's largely a matter of taste, though.
I sort of got the end, but wasn't really sure what was cause and what was
effect until I read your explanation. Like another reader, I missed a
strong sense of conflict. You mentioned that you saw the conflict as being
between conscious and subconscious, but the most compelling conflicts tend
to be with an external force.
--
jpg.writer
in my head for two days! LOL
Time for a serious re-write; I officially take this one off the
challenge list.
Judie
jpg.writer
> > instant headache. Coffee--a double espresso--was the only way to get
> > me functional for work and not walk in front of traffic. My feet hit
> > the floor, and before I could summon a good excuse to call in sick, I
> > was out the door and walking to the train station.
> >
> > The dream comes about once a month, and each time I get a little
>
> shift to present tense -- maybe, the dream came and each time I got?
Thanks for catching that, I didn't realized I was changing tenses.
> > further in, discovering it like a jig-saw puzzle doled out a piece at
> > a time. I don't believe in psychics, or visions, and the supernatural
> > is always explained by science. Obviously, my damned subconscious
> > just wanted me to figure something out, what that would be, I have no
> > clue. I don't repress or make nice when I'm angry, my childhood was
>
> I would put either dashes or ellipses after "figure something out -- " or
> maybe even two sentences or semi.
>
> > squeaky normal, and there are no unaccounted gaps in time to hide
> > buried memories or alien abductions.
>
> shift in tense -- there were no unaccounted gaps
> >
> > "So what do you want?" I asked slapping my forehead. White noise
> > droned in my head, obliterating any possible answer.
>
> asked, slapping
> >
> > The train dropped me off two doors from the office, a glass fronted
> > complex with marble tile, fresh flowers and three elevators to get you
> > to your floor tout suite.
>
> "tout suite" looks funny to me. I know that the proper french phrase (tout
> de suite) is botched into this which sort of rimes with "toot sweet" but
> maybe you're better off just saying pronto or right away or something else?
> just a thought
Good point.
> > "Mr. Aimes, good morning. Here's your coffee." Vernon, the local
> > java mogul, never missed my schedule and always had a cup waiting.
>
> maybe a hint sooner that the narrator is a male just for clarity and
> orientation
OK
> It wasn't until this point that I knew what "PR" was two paragraphs
> above -- maybe spell it out?
I'll spell out Public Relations, I thought about that before but
forgot to go back to it.
> > Turned to look back, I wanted to be certain it was gone. My mistake,
> > its demon head swiveled, and eyes, like cosmic wormholes, sucked the
>
> my mistake; its demon head swiveled -or-
> my mistake -- its demon head swiveled -or-
> My mistake. Its demon head swiveled,
>
> would all be stronger IMO
Thanks for the suggestions, I agree.
<snip>
> Kind of lost at the end.... could just be my dense brain.
>
> But I enjoyed the descriptions and the ride. Almost seems like a dream
> inspired story.
Nighmare inspired... :) No more Stephen King before bed.
Thanks for your comments; they are specific, and something I can
definately use to make this better.
Have a great weekend!
Judie
jpg.writer
> jpe...@nc.rr.com (jpg.writer) wrote:
>
> > The Hunter
> > by J. Gaines 2003
> >
> > Coffee--a double espresso--was the only way to get
> > me functional for work and not walk in front of traffic.
>
> Grammar problem there
>
> > The dream comes about once a month, and each time I get a little
> > further in, discovering it like a jig-saw puzzle doled out a piece at
> > a time.
>
> I'm wondering if you could find a more evocative word than discovering.
> Completing? Extending?
>
> > Obviously, my damned subconscious
> > just wanted me to figure something out, what that would be, I have no
> > clue.
>
> Comma splice. ", but what..." would be one solution.
>
> > "So what do you want?" I asked slapping my forehead. White noise
> > droned in my head, obliterating any possible answer.
>
> cut possible, it's implied by "any"
You're right. That's a regional phrase I can change to be less
regional. Especially since few southern, US cities have train
service.
> > Cool fingers brushed the back of my neck, tickling the downy hairs
> > that traced the curve of my vertebra. With my heart pounding the air
> > out of my lungs, I turned.
>
> A couple of problems: he wouldn't be thinking of the downy hairs, though
> the person doing it might. He'd be getting more tingling/thrilling/hair
> raising sensations. Secondly, the heart pounding air is something of a
> mixed metaphor, and will cause some readers to stumble.
>
>
> > "I came to warn you. Stay out of the darkness, the hunter is looking
> > for you." Her lips, intimate red petals, silently mouthed the words
> > that formed in my mind.
>
> Would be strong as a hook
>
> > Rolling my neck, I counted three pops.
>
> of his vertebrae? It's not clear.
I just turned my neck and got two pops; they were definately from my
vertebrae, I'll make that a bit clearer on the rewrite. Thanks.
> > Turned to look back, I wanted to be certain it was gone. My mistake,
> > its demon head swiveled, and eyes, like cosmic wormholes, sucked the
> > twilight from the room.
>
> comma splice again. Try My mistake: its demon head swiveled...
>
> also, I'd cut the final 2 commas from that sentence...
>
> > I touched a drop releasing its true desire to streak wet across my
> > fingers.
>
> ...and put one of them in there somewhere, perhaps?
>
> > "He will find you." And with that cryptic remark, she faded once more.
>
> I'm not sure that cryptic is the word you need there. It seemed pretty
> clear to me :-)
OK
> > All of a sudden, the water began flowing again, sending a misty halo
> > around the fountain.
>
> Suddenly...
>
> > "What?" Vernon looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Dull grass with
> > no color? He was right about no color, we had no time to aggrandize
> > our office--we were too busy giving that to our clients.
>
> I'd suggest looking for an alternative to aggrandize, and the final clause
> doesn't agree grammatically with what went before - "that" has to be a
> noun, while the closest thing that "that" could be - "aggrandize" - is a
> verb.
>
> > Color... color, something about color was the key to all this.
>
> Now *that's* cryptic ;-)
>
> > Shadows began to lunge from the desks and chairs, and the copy
> > machine sent a monster of shapes onto the walls.
>
> Not sure what machine you're talking about, here.
copier machine-another regional thing, I can change to fax for less
confusion.
> > As an addiction, coffee satisfied my nerve endings and taste buds.
> > For my head, it served as inspiration, with its aroma faint over the
> > smell of paint fumes. The office was now bathed in a visual caffeine
> > fix, with sunlight accentuating the white sofa and a tray of grass
> > growing on the windowsill contrasting the mocha walls. I consulted my
> > drawing once more; the colors were finally in the right place.
>
> Lots here to like. You're finding some nice phrasing: the jigsaw metaphor,
> the coffee mogul, sipping addiction, the flash of night, filligreed light
> to suggest the branches.
>
> You do description well, but maybe apply it with a broader brush than I
> would recommend. That's largely a matter of taste, though.
>
> I sort of got the end, but wasn't really sure what was cause and what was
> effect until I read your explanation. Like another reader, I missed a
> strong sense of conflict. You mentioned that you saw the conflict as being
> between conscious and subconscious, but the most compelling conflicts tend
> to be with an external force.
Thanks for your comments. AS I tighten this up in some spots, and
expand on others, I'll keep them in mind. I think I can up the ante
on the conflict and make the ending fleshier so the reader gets the
whole picture. Thanks for your insights.
Have a great weekend.
Judie
Alaric
identification of the woman and the monster as two sides of the same coin
needs explaining, I think (just as night and day in Wildepad's recent
story.) The disk I didn't get at all.
Just love:-
> Outside, a plane crossed the sun, sending a flash of night through the
room, the opposite of car headlights at midnight.
And the monster description is excellent. Doesn't an incubus chase after
ladies and a succubus after guys?
--
"I don't have a quote to put on the end of my messages"
Alaric McDermott
jpg.writer
> > > "So what do you want?" I asked slapping my forehead. White noise
> > > droned in my head, obliterating any possible answer.
> >
> > cut possible, it's implied by "any"
> You're right. That's a regional phrase I can change to be less
> regional. Especially since few southern, US cities have train
> service.
ACK! I think I meant that to go somewhere else, I should stop trying
to type these so quickly while at work.
Answer:
>You're right. That's a regional phrase I can change to be less
> regional.
Train service has nothing to do with it;)LOL
Huw Lyan Thomas
>> > cut possible, it's implied by "any"
>> You're right. That's a regional phrase I can change to be less
>> regional. Especially since few southern, US cities have train
>> service.
>
> ACK! I think I meant that to go somewhere else, I should stop trying
> to type these so quickly while at work.
>
> Answer:
>>You're right. That's a regional phrase I can change to be less
>> regional.
> Train service has nothing to do with it;)LOL
It made perfect sense to me :-)
--
jpg-writer
I've spent the past couple of nights re-working the story incorporating
everyone's suggestions, and adding a few enlightenments of my own. I also
thought about Wildepad's story and how it's strengths and weaknesses
correlated with my story. I feel it's much stonger now, and makes the
monster/Amber connection an "ah-ha" moment for the protag and the reader. I
also deleted the incubus phrase altogether, since that really isn't what the
creature is, just how I had formed it in my imagination while writing.
Thanks for your insight, and thanks to everyone who took time to read and
comment.
Judie.
"Alaric" <alar...@btinternet.com> wrote in message
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