can I get feedback on a short story I wrote? (needs some revisions I know)

[Qalbert]

Inb4 tl;dr etc.

I killed a man. Burned him alive. Even though I struck the match, it was distressing to watch him writhe and scream, as the flames licked up the pyre. It was not a pretty sight.

Now don't go jumping to conclusions, this wasn't murder. Yes he was tied down, and drenched in gasoline, but this was self defense. Honest.

This man was a right bloody git. I was not always of this opinion, but it had come to light that he had been sabotaging me for the better part of two and a half decades. At first glance he appeared to be harmless. While perhaps lacking in tact, and overly jocular at times, a trait further accentuated by his jowly face, and a belly that were he associated with a major holiday might be described as jelly-like, he appeared about as threatening as an overzealous dandelion. Soon, however, you will learn why he had to die.

Make no mistake, I did not relish this act, but it was, as I hope you will come to see, a necessity.

The man, henceforth known as The Git (yes, with capitals) nearly managed to ruin my life singlehandedly. As it stands, its course may have already been altered so far that no amount of corrective steering can bring it back from the dangerous precipice to which it now hurtles dangerously close.

The Git had been in my life, I suspect, for many years, although his presence was only recently made known to me. I imagine him following me around, stalking me much as a lion stalks a gazelle. I see him in my mind, creeping through bushes, standing in shadows, perhaps in the gray van that trundles by belching an astonishing amount of oily black smoke from its exhaust.

I know I sound crazy. You would too if The Git permeated every aspect of your life like the cloying stink of a long dead animal. 'You sound paranoid', you are probably thinking. No. Cautious, albeit it nearly too little and too late.

It's hard to say when things first started to go wrong. I think of a time, but is that truly where it began, or is it merely the first I noticed? Up to a point I attributed the bad things that happened to luck, to chance, a bad roll of the cosmic dice. But now, knowing of The Git, I have to wonder. Was any of it coincidence? Or was all that went wrong merely a result of his vile machinations?

It's hard to say. For starters, I know beyond all doubt that he was directly responsible for one of the worst periods of my life.

It was masterful really, his subtle manipulations, his aligning of all the key components. Were I not so deeply affected, I could almost admire his handiwork. A woman with a troubled past brought into my life. Check. Thoughts, brought forth in my mind unbidden, as if he were whispering them as I slept. Check. Most important of all, my falling completely, madly, foolishly, and naively in love, as The Git worked to keep me from receiving the counsel of friends. Check. Then finally, he had every piece in place, every step complete, save for one. With an ease not indicative of the destruction soon to be wrought, his nearly Goldbergian scheme reached its end.

My heart broken, I spiraled down into an abyss of self-loathing. Mired in depression and cynicism, I existed in a strange state. At times, nearly catatonic, at others feeling as though my nerves were exposed, as I slid down a sheet of sandpaper covered with needles and bits of broken dreams.

This, while perhaps the single largest attack made against me, was but the tip of the proverbial iceberg. At every turn, I could feel The Git's presence, serving to besot my mind with doubts, to nearly ruin friendships, and far more things that I can bear to dredge up.

Suffice to say, The Git had done much to me, and for that, he had to die.

Killing him wasn't my first plan. The thought turned my stomach then, and even now I remain disquieted. I told myself I could just get away from him. I tried to be unpredictable, to change my habits, but always he was there. Every step of the way. I tried to persuade him to stop, to go away, and to leave me be. He just sat there, with the faintest hint of a smirk playing across his broad, homely face.

He finally spoke then, and said to me just two words. "Give up."

I approached him several times over the next few months, begging, pleading, hoping that he would relent. His answer was always the same. "Give up."

One night, as I sat at my desk, head rhythmically beating out a soft, mournful tattoo against the wall behind me, I came to the conclusion that had been staring me in the face for some time, but which I had dared not ponder. I had to kill The Git.

Could I murder a man in cold blood? Was I capable of such a task? These questions and more whirled around inside my head for the better part of a week, until finally I realized that it was not murder at all. He was harming me, and I was merely taking action to prevent this. With that thought in mind I set myself to this unpleasant task.

The setup was fairly easy. I collected a large amount of small unusable pieces from the lumberyard, and filled my old dented gas can. I had found a fairly secluded clearing deep in the woods, where risk of being seen was minimal. Due to the amount of wood involved, building the fire itself was a lengthy undertaking, and as I lay the last piece on the sun was getting perilously close to the horizon. Hurriedly I sloshed half of the can over the tremendous pile of wood, and then called out his name.

He arrived quickly enough, seeming to materialize as he so often does these days. I implored of him again, "I am begging you. Please just leave me alone."

"Give up."

"Fine. Yes. I give up, ok. I GIVE UP! Are you happy now?!" As I asked this his smirk expanded into a sneer, a fierce look of pleasure shining in his eyes.

"On your knees, boy." he instructed me.

I did as I was told, dropping to my knees and staring dejectedly at the dirt.

"Now then," he started, before my sudden lunge took him at the knees. As he fell I knew I had but an instant, and my hand groped blindly for something, anything to use as a weapon. It would seem, that this night, chance or something stronger was on my side as my desperately seeking hand closed around a rock. I swung it around, putting all the pain, all the suffering, all the anguish I had withstood into the force of that blow. I caught him just above his ear, and he went limp.

I secured the ropes around his body, and laid it on the pyre, taking extra precaution and tying him thrice to the wood. As I doused him with the remaining gasoline, he roused, and let out a stream of profanity. He struggled against his bonds, which, as I had planned, did not yield. At this point, I saw the first glimmer of real fear alight in his eyes. He started to beg with me then, and as I stood there saying nothing he began to cry great sobbing tears, trickling down his fat cheeks, and disappearing into the dry earth below.

"It's over now." I said, and struck a match.

It started slowly, considering all the gasoline I had poured on it, but quickly the flames licked up the dry wood, spreading and igniting, as The Git bellowed fiercely all manner of insults and curses at me. As the first tendrils of flame began to singe his body his cries quickly became a sad, piteous mewling, as a dying animal might make.

The flames attacked him in earnest now, churning out clouds of rank black smoke. The smell of charred flesh filled the air so pungently I could taste it on my tongue. Stomach turning in protest, I stood resolute, watching him burn. I had to finish this. I had to know it was over. Hours passed, and still I watched, until all that was left was a smoldering stinking pile. Then and only then did I turn away, retching into the bushes. When at last my stomach quieted, at least somewhat, I turned back to the ashes. I saw there, at last, the end of my troubles. The Git was finished, and I could begin life anew, perhaps regaining some sense of normalcy. I gazed quietly, as the last thin wisps of smoke rose and drifted away. Then I said just two words, and turned away.

[BadKarma]

You sir are fucked up.

[deshende]

I was noticing a few tense jumps that kind of gave me a speed bump while reading.

One example:

I killed a man.

- Past tense

Soon, however, you will learn why he must die.

- Future tense.
You could change it to something like "learn why he had to die." to keep it more fluid.


I think you could shop a couple of those early paragraphs that the narrator was trying to TELL the reader why The Git was so bad and jump in quicker to SHOWing why The Git was so bad (sorry, Show don't Tell was something that was pounded into my head in writing classes hehe).


And not a critique, but my take on the story is that the narrator killed off another of his own personalities. The way The Git had a way of just appearing and not really having much of a voice besides just looking for submission. I didn't feel as though, as a person, he had done enough to justify death, but I believed the narrator had convinced himself of it, and was doing a good job at trying to convince the reader that he had justification in doing so.

[Qalbert]

Yeah I haven't has any real writing classes, just basic English Comp stuff, so I knew there would be some issues. Your last paragraph more or less is what I was going for.

[Kwijiboe]

Missing "The Aristocrats!", at the end.

[Plow]

Yeah I haven't has any real writing classes, just basic English Comp stuff, so I knew there would be some issues. Your last paragraph more or less is what I was going for.

Do you want proofreading, or just criticism, or wha?

Missing some commas and crap.

[Qalbert]

anything that will help me improve this and future stories

[Jotaru]

Things might be out of order as I tend to proofread funny.

Make no mistake, I did not relish this act, but it was, as I hope you will come to see, a necessity.

Perhaps just my own writing style, but you'd be better off with a semicolon instead of the first period, and could use semicolon / colon in place of multiple commas throughout the story to break up the sentences a bit and prevent run-ons; it creates a nice pause that makes even the longest sentence seem reasonable.

Cautious, albeit it nearly too little and too late.

Not sure I'd use albeit here- if you want to, change the sentence structure. This sentence doesn't work.

I see him in my mind, creeping

Perhaps replace , with -

corrective steering can bring it back from

Could bring it back

I think of a time, but is that

Consider ellipsis usage (...) in place of that , to create the effect of thought.

I have to wonder. Was any of it coincidence?

Here too. 'I have to wonder... was any of it coincidence?' Alternatively, the magic semicolon, or a hyphen.

Then finally,

I hate starting a sentence with First, Next, Then, or Finally, your mileage may vary.

Mired in depression and cynicism, I existed in a strange state. At times, nearly catatonic, at others feeling as though my nerves were exposed, as I slid down a sheet of sandpaper covered with needles and bits of broken dreams.

Mired in depression and cynicism, I existed in a strange state- at times nearly catatonic, at others feeling as though my nerves were exposed as I slid down a sheet of sandpaper covered with needles and bits of broken dreams. I guess a few different things you could do here. The sentence seems long and not easily broken down, random commas aren't helping much.

At every turn, I could feel The Git's presence,

Remove the first comma

pieces from the lumberyard, and filled

Remove comma


Have to stop and come back! Reads fun, so dont take this too harshly.

[Qalbert]

how about "although it was nearly..."?

[Beckwin]

where's elphaba when you need her?!?1

[Chelly]

where's elphaba when you need her?!?1

Spoiler: show

http://i31.tinypic.com/nvv8dc.jpg

[Fistandantilus]

Oh man I lol'd at the Elphaba spoiler.

[Brill Weave]

I think someone has daddy issues.

[Zeb]

Cool story, bro.

Seriously, it took this long for someone to say it?

[volcanicweather]

Jotaru got most of the grammatical stuff, but I'll add one

He finally spoke then, and said to me just two words. "Give up."

"He finally spoke and said to me two words - 'Give Up'."

It was an entertaining read though

[Deftscythe]

Getting outside help on an assignment? We'll just see what your professor thinks about this...

[Heidelberg]

Hello--I very much enjoyed your story! I sent a message to your account and would appreciate it if you could email me as soon as possible? Thanks so much!

[Qalbert]

Getting outside help on an assignment? We'll just see what your professor thinks about this...

Its not an assignment, just something I do in my spare time.

[Qalbert]

wrote something new, not worried about grammar or anything

You know those nights when you just cannot fall asleep no matter how hard you try? No amount of pills, no number of imaginary sheep leaping fences, nothing will let you drift away? This was not one of those nights.I lie here in bed on the verge of sleep. My body and mind, weary with the events of another hectic day. I ponder all things past, and the shape of things to come. Shadows flit about the room as my eyelids droop. Faint lights transcribe parabolic arcs across my mind. I begin to drift off, slowly slipping, fading away.

Just as soon as I at last find sleep, I feel awake. Am I awake? Am I dreaming? All around me is an inky blackness. Off in the distance a light flickers. I begin to make me way towards it, slowly, cautiously, feeling about in the dark, lest I fall into a crevasse. Hours upon hours pass by till I lose track of time completely, but I seem to be making progress in this vast and unending dreamscape. Onwards I trudge until at last I can make out a figure standing in the light. Carefully I approach him.

"Lost, are we?" he asks me. He stands about 6 feet tall, hair slicked back, and nattily attired in a three piece suit. Nothing unusual about him other then his being the only thing here in this abyss. "Yes, I think I am," I reply. "Where I am?" He looks me up and down, and says "Yes." Puzzled I ask, "How does that anwer my question...?" He responds, "It doesn't, but I can. If you care to make a wager, a game of sorts." Frustrated that my subconscious would follow such an obvious cliche I say, "So I guess that makes you the devil? And I have to challenge you to a fiddle showdown? This should-" Here he cuts me off, "No fiddles, merely riddles. Excuse the rhyme."

The rhyme, pathetic as it was, has piqued my interest, so I ask, "A riddle you say? Well I am a fairly quick-witted fellow, so why not?" He smiles at this and agrees. "Wait," he says, "what do I get if you fail to correctly answer the riddle?" Figuring a little cliche can't hurt I say "My soul, of course." At this he smiles, and reaches a hand forward, to seal the deal. "Well let's hear this riddle then." He gazes at me and asks, "what does it mean?" Thinking perhaps I had missed something, I ask "What does what mean?"

"Game over," he says. "Wait! What do you mean game over? I haven't even answered yet!" Chuckling softly he replies, "You failed to provide the correct answer. You lose." "Oh come on! That's not fair, I wasn't giving an answer, I was asking something." Smirking he says, "I am the devil, bub. Since when do I play fair? Besides the answer was right there in front of you." "What do you mean? Where?" Still smirking he answers, "In the first word of every paragraph." "Words? Paragraphs? What are you talking about!?" Laughing he says, "Why, this story of course. The answer lies at the beginning of each paragraph." "What story? What are you-" Suddenly I feel my soul being ripped away, like sweaty skin from a vinyl seat, like a blister from a well worn foot, like dead skin from a days old wound. I begin to scream in agony, and as I black out I hear him say one more thing.

"Sucker."

[wipers]

I don't really like the way you write. It isn't bad just not my cup of tea. My only criticism is you use too many details describing the man. Maybe it is just me but when someone uses a lot detail not very important to the story I get lost in it.