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Her soul smiles relentlessly.


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reiniat

I couldnt sleep so i did this....

 

Its 23th november 1999, a small burp brings the taste of cake to her mouth; a few hours ago it was her birthday but now shes sitting on an office chair in the apartment of a stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger, his name is Vance, Jack Vance, a registered child molester, except for all she knows hes been a good boy, no hidden photos of children, no pornography on his PC, no yellow stains, only a small cozy apartment with religious images of Jesus and the saints, no mother Mary for some reason, and then theres that office chair that seems so out of place.
Jack Vance is sitting in the sofa which also serves as dinning chair, theres no TV but it matters not; Jack is dead, and the sofa is stained, almost spongy, with blood. The knife is in the dining table next to his breakfast, an early bird he was, even tough he had no job and no reason to live, maybe he couldnt sleep, maybe he still felt guilt.
She goes to the bathroom and cleans the blood off her hands and face, she shouldnt have stabbed him like that, she should have cut his throat from behind, but she wanted to see his face, it felt like an offense to not watch their faces when it happened.
She takes off her plastic raincoat and her gloves and stuffs them in another plastic bag and then in her backpack, and then she limps slowly out of the apartment and then out of the building; face first into a sunny day, the city noise is starting, the birds are singing and she's so full of life.
She's fourteen.

 

(feedback is appreciated this time). Also i have no idea where did it come from, is that how imagination works? XD

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waxman.

This is quite an interesting piece, here.

 

 

 

A few hours ago it was her birthday...

 

I'm left a little confused though, as to why her birthday was mentioned. Perhaps you could use this 'birthday' as a motif, that is mentioned in another segment if you were to continue writing parts for this, leading up to the moment of the birthday. If I were you, I'd use this reference somehow if you're going to continue writing from this.

 

 

 

... sitting on an office chair in the apartment of a stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger, his name is Vance, Jack Vance.

 

I'm also left a little confused here. Why is she sitting on an office chair in this apartment; what is her motive? Also, how come you write that she's in a strangers apartment, but then go to write that she knows who he is? Is it perhaps that she had never seen him before, and only known his name, but only recently she has found him?

 

 

 

... and there's that one office chair that seems so out of place

 

Why does it seem out of place? Where is its location in the room, what does it look like? Perhaps he had previously planned to hang himself, and then was interrupted by this teenager who did the job for him?

 

 

 

Jack Vance is sitting in the sofa which also serves as dinning chair, theres no TV but it matters not; Jack is dead, and the sofa is stained, almost spongy, with blood.

 

Okay, so we've established that he has been murdered. I think there could be use of a lot more description here. Perhaps, something like:

 

 

 

Jack Vance, his dull face frail staring numbly at the floor, sits plopped on the black, leather sofa which also serves as a dinning chair. There is no TV but it matters not; as blood trickles like rain off a jacket from his finger tips, onto the sofa that is drenched in a muddy and black pool of blood. His eyes continue to stare numbly, as for they will never blink again.

 

---

 

 

 

She goes to the bathroom and cleans the blood off her hands and face. She shouldn't have stabbed him like that. She should have cut his throat from behind, but she wanted to see his face, and it felt like an offense to not watch their faces when it happened.

 

Just made it a little neater for you, with rephrasing and shortening of sentences.

 

 

 

She takes off her plastic raincoat and her gloves and stuffs them in another plastic bag and then in her backpack, and then she limps slowly out of the apartment and then out of the building; face first into a sunny day, the city noise is starting, the birds are singing and she's so full of life. She's fourteen.

 

Like before, I think this part of the story has the most potential to be compelling. Perhaps something with a little more description. Try to incorporate some of the senses within it - like this:

 

 

 

She feels the plastic clinging onto her dry skin, as she peels off the gloves slowly. Her tainted blue, plastic raincoat is covered with droplets of blood. She locates her black, gerry backpack and heaves it onto the ground in front of her before zipping it open and anxiously shoving the evidence within the bag. She feels a sharp pain, almost like a cramp, in her right leg but continues to limp out down the hallway and towards the doorway. Opening the door, she limps faster into the main apartment hallway; red carpet and white walls. Keeping her face hidden, she takes a fire exit door and exits the crime scene. The suns ray of light blind her momentarily, as she keeps moving forward. The back lane smells of garbage, but it isn't long before she's out onto the pavement of the street. The sound of taxis, car horns, talking and the clipping of heels fill her ears, as she ventures off into a small park. City birds perch themselves on the maple tree above, chirping away, and so full of life, just as she was. She was just fourteen.

 

I really like the 'she was just fourteen' line, as it really is a kind of plot twist. I really enjoyed this piece, and I hope you continue this.

Edited by Coat.
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reiniat

I been trying to expand upon it the last couple of days, im just terrible with details; everything i write ends up looking cheesy.

I actually cut a bunch of it before posting, basically she knew he was a child molester, but only after she killed him she starts browsing trough his stuff, thus knowing more about him. I also cut a few lines about her birthday. Also i dont even know why shes limping, gotta expand upon that.

Also im not sure if it should be a flashback or i should pick up the history right after that, i wrote a few paragraphs for shortly after and a few when shes older, im gonna try to join them and post them today.

Edited by reiniat
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waxman.

Just do what you do, and post it. I'll be here to give feedback. Can't wait to read the next part of it!

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reiniat

Now its the night of december 24th, her mother is out in the rain, perhaps drunk on a bar, or maybe she didnt forget and presents are coming.
She's watching SpongeBob on the TV before she falls asleep.
In her dream Vance asks for mercy, he sinks to his knees and yells hes a new man, tears run through his eyes and he spits saliva as he talks and his whole face twitches. She wakes up, that is not true, Vance only stared at her with astonishment before his face stopped showing emotions, he didnt even said a word.

She giggles at the very idea of feeling guilt for him.
The TV is now showing a last Christmas of the millennium special, its boring so she limps to the window, the rain falls almost horizontally into the crystal, and she just stares.

Her mother doesnt arrive the next morning, nor the next one. The news barely dedicate a few lines to Vance's murder, nobody cares for child molesters. She orders pizza the first day, and the next tacos, and then she finds theres no more money, the governs support came just last week, maybe mom did not withdraw everything, or maybe she did and thats why shes not coming back.
She resolves she'll go to the ATM a couple squares from the apartment buildings, so she searches for the debit card in her mother’s room, shes a bad liar, the needles are inside the nightstand and the debit card should be in the second box, but it is not, she starts sweeping the room carefully, making sure everything stays in order; her mother doesnt like her daughter fiddling around her stuff.
The search is fruitless, what a fancy word about fruits, she thinks, she wonders if she can take something to the pawn shop when the apartment door opens; its mom and she looks terrible, more than ever, more than when dad left, more than those two months when she did not buy cocaine so she could pay for her arm surgery. She manages a thin smile and drops a carton box with a blue ribbon below the christmas tree.
Happy Christmas Diana. She mumbles before she drags herself to her bedroom and drops in the bed, she starts snoring almost immediately.
Diana leaps and tears the box of her present, inside is another box, and it says Game Boy Color, she rereads the box a couple of times, maybe its a knockoff, some fake thing that can only play tetrix and the likes. But no; It is an actual Game Boy Color.
I love you mom.

Her mother doesnt wake up until the next day, she takes a bath and reminds Diana she needs one too, then she cooks a fast breakfast and she says she needs to go, she looks almost normal as if she had never left the house for three days, she gets dressed formally and kisses her daughter goodbye.
I love you Diana.
She wants to ask her where does she go, if shes working down the street with the other girls like the kids in the building say, and why? Does she have a debt for the drugs? Cant she just cover it with the governs money?
I love you too mom. Its all she manages.
Theres chicken in the freezer, and take a bath for f*cks sake.
She smiles and leaves, never to come back.

Its december 29 and Diana spends the day playing Donkey Country next to the window, down there the kids are playing basketball in an improvised field with only one basket, she would love to play basketball, or any sport for that matter. The basketball fields near Chase Point are frequented by people in wheelchairs, problems is; she doesnt have one, only the prosthesis and theres no basketball for people with prosthetic legs.
She decides to go down there anyway, the rest of the kids dont mind her sitting on a bench watching the game, but she lefts his Game Boy in the apartment, just in case someone wants to get greedy. She reaches the bench at the same time the dark sky roars with lightning and hail falls, the kids in the yard complain and rush to the buildings; she stands up and slowly makes her way back until one kid spots her.
Its your fault freak!
The kid is smiling for he has found a new diversion, what was the kid's name? Jonah; after all these years she remembers all their names.
One of the older boys throws a bottle of Coke at her, and soon the others follow, hail, rocks, bottles and laughter rain on her as she strides to her building, shes just a few steps away when her foot slips in the water and she falls on her knee, she starts crying but she keeps her face still, a woman starts shouting and the kids disperse, the janitor of her building emerges from the door and drags her inside.
Youll catch a cold gal, now go to your dep, change your clothes, take a coffee or something.
The veil on her face is torn and the janitor looks at her with amusement.
Tears in the rain.
He chuckles and turns back to his office.
She reaches her apartment closes the door and immediately gets off her clothes, shes soaked to the bone and her knee is scrapped and everything hurts, she puts a cup of water on the microwave and dries herself with a towel and then she goes to her room and gets all the bed clothes she can and makes herself a nest, the microwave finishes its work with his annoying peee, and she makes it coffee, then removes her prosthesis with a suckling sound, passes the towel through her stump and cuddles in the bed holding her cup of coffee.
She doesnt feel like crying anymore, no, its time to plan; she might be risking too much but at least one of those kids has to die.

 

 

 

 

Im going on vacations and will be back next monday, so i just posted the parts that i joined in all its non-detailed non-spell checked glory.

Also i did find out why shes limping, i dont have the details yet (damn details) but its gonna give her one helluva cover for everything she does.

Edited by reiniat
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  • 1 month later...
Ziggy455

I stumbled across this and thought that it was pretty neat. I think what stands out most to me is the lack of punctuation that I know you could clear up if you slowed down, wrote it, and then left it for an hour or two to come back to. Giving us the whole thing when it's rushed is poor form because we want to read your best stuff, to the best of its ability, your ability.

 

The story itself is kind of special. You've created a character we can empathize with. She's come up from a bad place, she's probably been molested, she lives in the slums--these kind of things can turn good people bad in a manner of ways, and so while your writing is suffering due to punctual errors (which we all do, trust me) you have the starting point of a fully, fleshed out character that has the power to hold this story.

 

Character-wise, you say you are unsure of why she's limping?

 

When I create characters I'm a little too OTT. I like to create their personality, how they look, their backstory (nothing is set in stone for story's sake) and really try to build the character in my head until they're so real I know them as if they are and it makes writing them so much easier. I'm not saying you have to have this approach but just sit down, and flesh out some backstory of why she limps, how she looks, etc, etc. It'll save you rewriting the story to fit outrageous character changes in the future.

 

I'll offer more insight if you upload another piece, and if you need help, feel free to PM me.

 

Zigs.

Edited by Ziggy455
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