forum I'll Critique Anything
Started by @@theamazingainof
tune

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@SupernaturalSyGuyIsTIred group

Could you critique a short story that I wrote? I was going for a mysterious/horror feel, and was wondering if I acchived that. I've been thinking about continuing it, hence the open ending, but I want to focus on my other works.

Shadow Storm

The fog crawled through the town, wrapping it in its arms. Amidst the fog stood a single figure, whose features could not be seen. All that could be made out of the figure was that it apparently wore a shroud, and wielded a long ax. The figure seemed to stand at a height of 6’9”, and had the silhouette of a man. The man and the fog walked through the cold, dark town. The air was silent and still; not a single citizen was out. The windows in the small reddish-brown brick buildings were shuttered and dark.
The man continued to traipse through the town. He paused. As he does the fog stops rolling into the town. The mysterious figure looks around, listening to something that only he could hear. The man shifts his grip on the axis handle, and approaches a dilapidated house with a dark blue door. As a dog would follow it’s master, the brume (another word for fog) follows the man. As the man takes the steps up to the house he yet again readjusts his grip on the ax, and with a mighty stroke strikes the door.
The man repeats this process. As the door is now splintered into shards of wood he enters the house. As he infiltrates the building the fog encircles the home. Inside, the man methodically searches from room to room. The air inside the house is full of dust. Webs clutch the edges of the ceiling and walls. Dust hugs whatever it can get a grasp on. As the man walks he disrupts the quiet with squeals from the floor.
Kicking in a door, the man smiles to reveal that he has glistening pointed razor sharp teeth, for he has just found what he came for. Kneeling in the farthest corner of the room sits a woman, huddled with her family as if for warmth.
“Mommy, I'm scared,” says one of her children, a beautiful young girl with raven hair bearing a red stripe down the left. The girl vainly attempts to nuzzle closer than already possible.
“Shh, Delnis, everything is going to be alright,” the young girl's mother said. Like her daughter, the woman had brilliantly bright blue eyes, but had curly dark red hair instead. She looks up at the newcomer. “Don't you dare harm my children!”
The man continues to smile. He raises his ax as if to strike. Dawn pulls her children closer to her. Her son, a dark brown eyed rascal with strikingly white hair, grasps onto Dawn and Delnis.
“Please don't hurt them mister. They're all that I have left; we're all that she has left!”
“Be quiet Delnir!” Dawn demands. With the reflexes of that of a cheetah, the man lunges at the three, grabs Dawn, and pulls her from the grip of her family. Dawn tries valiantly to free herself from the grasp of the man in vain. She had tried to stab the man with a knife that she had concealed on her person. Enraged, the cloaked figure throws Dawn to the ground.
Adjusting his grip on the ax, he swings at Dawn, leaving a deep crimson gash in her porcelain flesh. Her blood oozes from the wound as a fountain. The man swings again, chopping off one of her hands. The more blood that flows, the happier the man becomes. Dawn slips in her own blood. Using this to his advantage, the hooded man swiftly decapitates her.
The children watch in horror as their mother, the strongest person they know, is easily defeated by the hands of this stranger. They weep for her in silent terror and agony as the stranger hacks their beloved mother to bits and pieces, spraying them with her blood with each sickening thwack of his ax.
The man, evidently finished with his deed, goes to grab Dawn’s severed head. As he does this Delnir rises up, and attempts to slice the stranger with the very knife that Dawn had used. The man, out of instinct, waves his arm and forces Delnir to carve a gash into his own face. Once done taking care of the brave, foolish boy, the man retrieves Dawn’s head, and walks out of the room and building. He leaves the once quiet town just as he came, and as he departs the town the mist follows him, enveloping him in it’s cold, damp, shroud.
Back in the house, Delnis carefully goes to her brothers side. She cradles his head in her lap, and uses a torn segment of her own clothing to stop the bleeding. Little does either of them know that losing their mother wasn’t the end of their problems, but only the beginning.

@@theamazingainof

Okay, there are certain spots that seemed choppy to me. The base was good, but the similes and metaphors were excessive at times. Overall, though, I really liked it!

@SupernaturalSyGuyIsTIred group

Okay, there are certain spots that seemed choppy to me. The base was good, but the similes and metaphors were excessive at times. Overall, though, I really liked it!

Thank you! What areas seemed choppy to you?

@@theamazingainof

The man continued to traipse through the town. He paused. As he does the fog stops rolling into the town. The mysterious figure looks around, listening to something that only he could hear.
The man repeats this process. As the door is now splintered into shards of wood he enters the house. As he infiltrates the building the fog encircles the home. Inside, the man methodically searches from room to room. The air inside the house is full of dust. Webs clutch the edges of the ceiling and walls. Dust hugs whatever it can get a grasp on. As the man walks he disrupts the quiet with squeals from the floor.

@SupernaturalSyGuyIsTIred group

The man continued to traipse through the town. He paused. As he does the fog stops rolling into the town. The mysterious figure looks around, listening to something that only he could hear.
The man repeats this process. As the door is now splintered into shards of wood he enters the house. As he infiltrates the building the fog encircles the home. Inside, the man methodically searches from room to room. The air inside the house is full of dust. Webs clutch the edges of the ceiling and walls. Dust hugs whatever it can get a grasp on. As the man walks he disrupts the quiet with squeals from the floor.

Ok, thanks yet again.

@@theamazingainof

Here you go, something seems off about him to me…

Okay, so the first thing I'm noticing is the motivation. Saving everyone is pretty generic. Maybe have a background on why he feels like he has to. Was it something a family member did? It would help to develop the character further. The next thing I saw was the father part. How does he know where to look? Sure, he has a photo, but that isn't going to be enough to help, especially if it's an older photo.

@@Rubyjane

@@theamazingainof
Thank you so much for all of your help!
I changed his motivations up, and hope it makes him better.
Also, about his history, I am so sorry but that was an old version that I changed because it didn't seem right.
It is now the more updated version, I hope it seems better.

tal

Could you critique my scene?
It's between two of my characters, I'll link them at the end. (their bios are really bad i'm still developing them):
Peaches. It smelled like peaches, and something else. Ella tried to identify the scent, but couldn’t. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, glancing around the white room. Her head pounded at the sudden movement. She groaned and let her head fall on the pillow.
“Olivia!” The pillow muffled her calls for the other girl in the house.
“Hey, hon. I made eggs.” A soft voice. Olivia. The door creaked when it opened, letting more light flow into the room. Ella picked up her head and turned over, sitting up in the crisp, white sheets. Olivia smiled and got into the bed next to her, placing a plate of scrambled eggs in Ella’s lap after placing a kiss on her cheek.
“I love you,” Ella whispered and pulled Olivia in for another quick kiss. She tilted her head, looking longingly at Olivia, whose eyes were closed and who had a barely-there smile on her lips. Olivia hummed lightly and opened her eyes. Ella leaned on Olivia’s shoulder and started eating her eggs while the larger girl played with Ella’s black, smooth hair.
As Ella was eating, she noticed a candle flickering on the nightstand and recognized it as Olivia’s favorite scented candle. That explained the peaches. She finished her meal as Olivia braided her hair.
“Hmph.” She pouted softly. Olivia gave her a questioning look as she tied a pink rubber band around the end of the braid.
“Dad being a dick again?”
“As always.”
“Want me to fight him?” Olivia questioned jokingly, picking up another bunch of Ella’s black hair from the other side to start braiding.
“Yeah, have fun with that, Via. I’ve tried. What happened last night?” She asked, swatting Olivia’s hand playfully.
“I found you passed out drunk on the fire escape again,” Olivia said with a slight frown and look of concern. “Smudged mascara. You were crying a lot.” She touched the smaller girl’s hand cautiously. “You had your locket open.”
Ella’s un-occupied hand instinctively went to the bronze locket around her neck. She tightened her hand around the piece of jewelry and opened her eyes. She clicked the locket opened and looked down at the picture of her birth parents, holding a young version of her in their arms.
“Like you said, my dad was being a dick.” She was referring to the man who adopted her when his wife couldn’t have a kid. But a few years past and suddenly, they were expecting a kid. Ella got tossed to the side while these people who claimed to be her parents only cared for their “miracle baby.”

@@theamazingainof

So, right off the bat. It's hard for me to tell who is talking. Is this an excerpt? I think that the characters have potential, but it is confusing.