Post by israle on Feb 18, 2010 21:20:54 GMT -5
Here is the opening scene in a novella that I am writing. Posting it here for critique, anything is appreciated.
He won’t come out of the house. Nobody has ever seen him, we’re not even sure he is alive. But we are going to find out and soon. It has been a month since our parents banned us from going to the prison-what we call his house.
My name is Stephen, and I am a detective. I am starting to worry, Albert hasn’t called me yet, we are going to go tonight to the prison. I am going to find out if the rumors are true: They say his house is his grave.
My cell phone vibrates, that would be Albert. I look at the caller ID to make sure. “Hey, Al, you still up for it?” I say flipping open the phone and plastering it to my face.
“You better believe it! I’ve been digging around on the net about the prison. I’ve found some interesting stuff.”
I look around to see if I’m being watched by my parents. The coast is clear. What’ya find?”
“There were stories of people going in there.” he answered his voice going low.
“What’s so interesting about that?” I ask.
“Only one person of thirty that went in there came out.”
My stomach started to churn. “What did he say was in there?”
“He didn’t his tongue was cut out.” the churning in my stomach only got worse.
“Is this a joke?” I demanded.
“Of course not! Not about this. I have to find out if The Thomas Corey Mansion is what we think it is. You still game?”
“I think so, I am going to find out myself what you told me.” I slowly sat up from the living room couch and made my way to the bedroom my parents use for a den. I would have to be careful, my parents might be coming in at any moment.
I sat down at the computer screen and booted up the internet. While it was loading I opened up a document and typed a few pointless sentences. If my parents were coming then I would need an excuse and it would have to be convincing.
I opened Bing web search. I typed in ‘The Thomas Corey Mansion’ There was about a dozen or so sites come up. I clicked on the most promising site. A page came up with a dark red background and a picture of the mansion in black and white.
I scrolled down and there was the article. It read:
The Thomas Corey mansion has been the subject of several stories and expeditions. Most of the stories I believe are true. I was the only person out of thirty who have ventured into the mansion. I have sworn not to tell anyone of what I saw. So I cut out my own tongue. I will not write anything of The Thomas Corey Mansion. I will say this: UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD ANYONE GO TO THAT PLACE!
~Michael Draft
The Lone Survivor
I picked up my phone. “Still there Al?”
“Yup, you still sure you wanna come?” said Albert.
“What? You looking for an excuse to get out of me dragging you down there?” I teased.
“No way, I am going tonight and no one is going to stop me. I need to find out about this place, I don’t know if you are in the same mindset as I am on this, but I have to find out.” Albert said, getting suddenly serious.
“Where should I meet you?” I asked determined to go with him
“At the old shed on the other side of town. Your parents will me asleep by eleven?”
“Yep, see you at eleven?”
“You bet.”
I clicked shut my phone and logged off of the computer. It was going to be a long six hours. I walked out of the den and back up to my room. I can’t get a certain image out of my head. It is from when I was spying on the mansion looking for any signs of life. A raven had flown in and landed on a sill of the third story window. It slammed the bird in the head and it fell to the ground below. It never got up and flew again. It was dead.
It keeps replaying in my head like a scratched movie. Over and over. It is enough to make someone made. I look at my dresser, pictures of the mansion rest in their respective frames. They are pictures of things that are unusual. One is of a tree limb sticking out of the third story window. The next day the limb was gone.
It is a strange place, this Thomas Corey Mansion. People in the towns never talk about it, they think of its name like the forbidden fruit. They carry no information about it in their newspaper annals and archives.
I moved here six months ago. Immediately me and Albert grew to be friends. It was like we were cut from the same block of wood, as my dad would say. My interest of the mansion rubbed off on Albert almost as fast as we had become friends, that is when we started to investigate.
My mother thought is was like a drug so she banned me from going to or finding information about the Thomas Corey Mansion. Albert’s parents quickly followed suit. But that didn’t stop us, we found spots where we could observe the mansion and started to investigate once again. This was the first of hopefully several expeditions into the Prison. My parents agreed that I could have the pictures, they couldn’t see how much they have helped me. I know the structure of the building. I know its entrances and its exits, every single one of them.
I don’t know how long we will be in the Prison. An hour at the most. We are really going to do it, the fact always sends a chill down my neck. Will he go chicken? Will I? I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes to eleven. I sit up from my bed. My head was pounding with so many thoughts. I pull the basket from under my bed, the one full of my shoes. I pull on my ankle high hiking boots.
My shoes make no sound on the stairs that lead to the living room. I stop. Something wasn’t right. I look down at my belt, no flashlight. I want to hurt myself. I run back up to my bedroom as silently as I could. I grab the foot long flashlight. I am practically shaking with anticipation. It is like skydiving. You tremble with fear until you take the jump.
I run down the steps, skipping the last one because it always creaks when you step on it. I urge open the door to the living room. Nobody. I ease my body through the small crack and close the door behind me. I am really doing this aren’t I? I open the front door to the forty degree weather. I shiver. I wish I had brought a jacket, a sweatshirt at least.
It was too late too go back. If anything this cold will keep me more alert than ever. I run down my driveway and wait for the moon to light my way. It peeks out behind a cloud. There was the road. I run down to the side of it and go a few feet into the woods. I can’t be seen going to the shack.
I hear the leaves and twigs snap beneath my feet. The shack is about half a mile down my road. I am about halfway to the shack. I see a blinding light out of the corner of my eye.
I go deeper into the forest immediately knowing that it is a car. I was right. The car stops just as it passes my area. I freeze just as I get down behind a tree, someone gets out of the car.
He is wearing a hoody, I can’t see his face. He looks around in my direction. Immediately he gets in his car and guns the engine. He idles like he had left something behind but then he zooms off.
I sigh in relief but it is quickly swallowed by worry. Why had he stopped? The car had been going rather fast. . .almost like he was going to alert someone. Did he see me? I continue on my way to the Shack, I am disturbed. The road narrowed and the Shack came into view.
The door of the Shack remained closed to prying eyes. I opened it and looked inside. Albert was not here. I glanced down at my watch. Ten fifty six. He should be here any time. The image of the raven disappeared from my mind.
Another, more agonizing entered my mind than the previous. The webpage. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD ANYONE GO TO THAT PLACE!
The door creaked open and a wonderful sight filled my eyes. Albert with his puppy dog smile and lopsided glasses.
“So you didn’t bail?” asked Albert.
“Well, what say I leave you here and go myself?” I countered.
“Ah, Stephen, then I wouldn’t be able to comfort you when Thomas Corey’s ghost comes from the third story window!”
I laughed, letting him know that he had won the debate. “Shall we go?”
“One thing first, you bring a flashlight?”
“Wouldn’t go without one.” I replied.
“Shine it over here will you?”
I clicked on the illuminating devise. Albert was holding a pen and a piece of paper. He started to write: If anyone finds this two days after the third of January, twenty ten we have gone into the Thomas Corey Mansion. Please come and retrieve us. Our names are Albert Jonson and Stephen Hagwell.
I gulped. “Are you sure that’s necessary, Al?”
“If we go missing because of whatever don’t you want to be found, even if the chances of them ever us are slim?” Albert asked.
“Of course.” Albert’s placed the note just inside the cracked door to shield it from the rain. And we were off. My theory was that it was some sort of portal to another dimension or time. Albert had very different thoughts on it. He was the one that believed in the ghost adventure shows, I didn’t buy a thing of that show. He thinks that the ghosts of the missing people are in there.
But for all I know we could both be 100% right. Still I doubt it. I can see the mansion now. It looks creepy up on the hill to the left. My heart rate sky rockets and we quicken our pace. I reach the base of the hill first and I wait for Albert to catch up to me. No way would I go anywhere near that building alone.
He caught up with me and we walked up the hill toward the mansion. The moonlight caught the glass of a window and for a second I thought that I had seen a raven in the third story window. The light was gone before I could confirm.
A caw rang out into the air. I shuddered. Something was not right. I look up at the building that was at least fifty feet ahead of me a few minutes ago. I almost faint. I am right below the third story window. Something plumped right at my feet, followed closely by a bang. I scream or I try to. I could only hear my heartbeat. It was the raven, the raven was dead.
“Why’d you run so quickly back there?” Albert asked catching up to me looking warily above him.
I didn’t answer. I was too intent on the dead raven. Albert came up beside me he followed my gaze in the faint light. He was quiet for a moment.
“It had to be a coincidence.” he was shaking his head. “This couldn’t have been planned.”
“How could this be a coincidence?” Albert, think! We were the only people to know about this expedition, unless we underestimated Thomas Corey.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Than that is one more reason for us to go in the mansion, Stephen.”
“Your right,” I agreed.
“We stepped up on the porch afraid. Albert looked at me. “You ready?”
“More than.” He opened the door and we stepped into the mansion. We walked a few feet away from the door leaving it open in case we needed an escape route. Neither of us were even close to the door, but it slammed shut anyway.
We froze, scared out of our wits. A lone voice rang out, cold and menacing. “Welcome to my world boys.”
He won’t come out of the house. Nobody has ever seen him, we’re not even sure he is alive. But we are going to find out and soon. It has been a month since our parents banned us from going to the prison-what we call his house.
My name is Stephen, and I am a detective. I am starting to worry, Albert hasn’t called me yet, we are going to go tonight to the prison. I am going to find out if the rumors are true: They say his house is his grave.
My cell phone vibrates, that would be Albert. I look at the caller ID to make sure. “Hey, Al, you still up for it?” I say flipping open the phone and plastering it to my face.
“You better believe it! I’ve been digging around on the net about the prison. I’ve found some interesting stuff.”
I look around to see if I’m being watched by my parents. The coast is clear. What’ya find?”
“There were stories of people going in there.” he answered his voice going low.
“What’s so interesting about that?” I ask.
“Only one person of thirty that went in there came out.”
My stomach started to churn. “What did he say was in there?”
“He didn’t his tongue was cut out.” the churning in my stomach only got worse.
“Is this a joke?” I demanded.
“Of course not! Not about this. I have to find out if The Thomas Corey Mansion is what we think it is. You still game?”
“I think so, I am going to find out myself what you told me.” I slowly sat up from the living room couch and made my way to the bedroom my parents use for a den. I would have to be careful, my parents might be coming in at any moment.
I sat down at the computer screen and booted up the internet. While it was loading I opened up a document and typed a few pointless sentences. If my parents were coming then I would need an excuse and it would have to be convincing.
I opened Bing web search. I typed in ‘The Thomas Corey Mansion’ There was about a dozen or so sites come up. I clicked on the most promising site. A page came up with a dark red background and a picture of the mansion in black and white.
I scrolled down and there was the article. It read:
The Thomas Corey mansion has been the subject of several stories and expeditions. Most of the stories I believe are true. I was the only person out of thirty who have ventured into the mansion. I have sworn not to tell anyone of what I saw. So I cut out my own tongue. I will not write anything of The Thomas Corey Mansion. I will say this: UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD ANYONE GO TO THAT PLACE!
~Michael Draft
The Lone Survivor
I picked up my phone. “Still there Al?”
“Yup, you still sure you wanna come?” said Albert.
“What? You looking for an excuse to get out of me dragging you down there?” I teased.
“No way, I am going tonight and no one is going to stop me. I need to find out about this place, I don’t know if you are in the same mindset as I am on this, but I have to find out.” Albert said, getting suddenly serious.
“Where should I meet you?” I asked determined to go with him
“At the old shed on the other side of town. Your parents will me asleep by eleven?”
“Yep, see you at eleven?”
“You bet.”
I clicked shut my phone and logged off of the computer. It was going to be a long six hours. I walked out of the den and back up to my room. I can’t get a certain image out of my head. It is from when I was spying on the mansion looking for any signs of life. A raven had flown in and landed on a sill of the third story window. It slammed the bird in the head and it fell to the ground below. It never got up and flew again. It was dead.
It keeps replaying in my head like a scratched movie. Over and over. It is enough to make someone made. I look at my dresser, pictures of the mansion rest in their respective frames. They are pictures of things that are unusual. One is of a tree limb sticking out of the third story window. The next day the limb was gone.
It is a strange place, this Thomas Corey Mansion. People in the towns never talk about it, they think of its name like the forbidden fruit. They carry no information about it in their newspaper annals and archives.
I moved here six months ago. Immediately me and Albert grew to be friends. It was like we were cut from the same block of wood, as my dad would say. My interest of the mansion rubbed off on Albert almost as fast as we had become friends, that is when we started to investigate.
My mother thought is was like a drug so she banned me from going to or finding information about the Thomas Corey Mansion. Albert’s parents quickly followed suit. But that didn’t stop us, we found spots where we could observe the mansion and started to investigate once again. This was the first of hopefully several expeditions into the Prison. My parents agreed that I could have the pictures, they couldn’t see how much they have helped me. I know the structure of the building. I know its entrances and its exits, every single one of them.
I don’t know how long we will be in the Prison. An hour at the most. We are really going to do it, the fact always sends a chill down my neck. Will he go chicken? Will I? I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes to eleven. I sit up from my bed. My head was pounding with so many thoughts. I pull the basket from under my bed, the one full of my shoes. I pull on my ankle high hiking boots.
My shoes make no sound on the stairs that lead to the living room. I stop. Something wasn’t right. I look down at my belt, no flashlight. I want to hurt myself. I run back up to my bedroom as silently as I could. I grab the foot long flashlight. I am practically shaking with anticipation. It is like skydiving. You tremble with fear until you take the jump.
I run down the steps, skipping the last one because it always creaks when you step on it. I urge open the door to the living room. Nobody. I ease my body through the small crack and close the door behind me. I am really doing this aren’t I? I open the front door to the forty degree weather. I shiver. I wish I had brought a jacket, a sweatshirt at least.
It was too late too go back. If anything this cold will keep me more alert than ever. I run down my driveway and wait for the moon to light my way. It peeks out behind a cloud. There was the road. I run down to the side of it and go a few feet into the woods. I can’t be seen going to the shack.
I hear the leaves and twigs snap beneath my feet. The shack is about half a mile down my road. I am about halfway to the shack. I see a blinding light out of the corner of my eye.
I go deeper into the forest immediately knowing that it is a car. I was right. The car stops just as it passes my area. I freeze just as I get down behind a tree, someone gets out of the car.
He is wearing a hoody, I can’t see his face. He looks around in my direction. Immediately he gets in his car and guns the engine. He idles like he had left something behind but then he zooms off.
I sigh in relief but it is quickly swallowed by worry. Why had he stopped? The car had been going rather fast. . .almost like he was going to alert someone. Did he see me? I continue on my way to the Shack, I am disturbed. The road narrowed and the Shack came into view.
The door of the Shack remained closed to prying eyes. I opened it and looked inside. Albert was not here. I glanced down at my watch. Ten fifty six. He should be here any time. The image of the raven disappeared from my mind.
Another, more agonizing entered my mind than the previous. The webpage. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD ANYONE GO TO THAT PLACE!
The door creaked open and a wonderful sight filled my eyes. Albert with his puppy dog smile and lopsided glasses.
“So you didn’t bail?” asked Albert.
“Well, what say I leave you here and go myself?” I countered.
“Ah, Stephen, then I wouldn’t be able to comfort you when Thomas Corey’s ghost comes from the third story window!”
I laughed, letting him know that he had won the debate. “Shall we go?”
“One thing first, you bring a flashlight?”
“Wouldn’t go without one.” I replied.
“Shine it over here will you?”
I clicked on the illuminating devise. Albert was holding a pen and a piece of paper. He started to write: If anyone finds this two days after the third of January, twenty ten we have gone into the Thomas Corey Mansion. Please come and retrieve us. Our names are Albert Jonson and Stephen Hagwell.
I gulped. “Are you sure that’s necessary, Al?”
“If we go missing because of whatever don’t you want to be found, even if the chances of them ever us are slim?” Albert asked.
“Of course.” Albert’s placed the note just inside the cracked door to shield it from the rain. And we were off. My theory was that it was some sort of portal to another dimension or time. Albert had very different thoughts on it. He was the one that believed in the ghost adventure shows, I didn’t buy a thing of that show. He thinks that the ghosts of the missing people are in there.
But for all I know we could both be 100% right. Still I doubt it. I can see the mansion now. It looks creepy up on the hill to the left. My heart rate sky rockets and we quicken our pace. I reach the base of the hill first and I wait for Albert to catch up to me. No way would I go anywhere near that building alone.
He caught up with me and we walked up the hill toward the mansion. The moonlight caught the glass of a window and for a second I thought that I had seen a raven in the third story window. The light was gone before I could confirm.
A caw rang out into the air. I shuddered. Something was not right. I look up at the building that was at least fifty feet ahead of me a few minutes ago. I almost faint. I am right below the third story window. Something plumped right at my feet, followed closely by a bang. I scream or I try to. I could only hear my heartbeat. It was the raven, the raven was dead.
“Why’d you run so quickly back there?” Albert asked catching up to me looking warily above him.
I didn’t answer. I was too intent on the dead raven. Albert came up beside me he followed my gaze in the faint light. He was quiet for a moment.
“It had to be a coincidence.” he was shaking his head. “This couldn’t have been planned.”
“How could this be a coincidence?” Albert, think! We were the only people to know about this expedition, unless we underestimated Thomas Corey.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Than that is one more reason for us to go in the mansion, Stephen.”
“Your right,” I agreed.
“We stepped up on the porch afraid. Albert looked at me. “You ready?”
“More than.” He opened the door and we stepped into the mansion. We walked a few feet away from the door leaving it open in case we needed an escape route. Neither of us were even close to the door, but it slammed shut anyway.
We froze, scared out of our wits. A lone voice rang out, cold and menacing. “Welcome to my world boys.”