lisajane

Some of you might remember this, posted by me some time ago - http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...sappearing+act

Since then I've been working steadily on it, redrafting it, with my teacher's help. Now that it's in it's sixth draft, it's not finished in the way of drafting but I thought now might be a good time in the process to see what you guys think. I apologise about the layout, it was set out differently to most of my stories and I've edited it a bit here. Untitled, enjoy:

***

‘Count back from one hundred.’
Ninety-nine…
Ninety-eight… The air smells different somehow, it smells strongly of
something… sick…
Ninety-seven… It smells of heavy perfume… I know that all too well, revolting.
Ninety-six… The air clutches at my chest, at my face… refusing to go
away, overpowering toxic…
Ninety-five… I think I could struggle because I’m not gone yet… this is
taking forever – too long.
Ninety-four… Still existing, still not seeing darkness…
Ninety-three… ‘Relax,’ I hear a distant voice say.
Ninety-two… What is that… a VCR?
Ninety-one…

Good-night.

Ninety… It’s over? Already?
Eighty-nine… Blinded by white light.
Eighty-eight… Can’t be dead.
Eighty-seven… I want that light to go away… my eyes won’t close against
it…
Eighty-six… Everyone’s dressed the same… everyone looks identical…
Eighty-five… It’s so stuffy in here…
Eighty-four… Manicured fingers stroke my hand… I try to raise it but it
won’t move…
Eighty-three… My wrist won’t move, my elbow won’t move, my arm won’t
move.
Eighty-two… Not this again… I want to break away but my body refuses to
move.
Eighty-one… ‘The subject’s out.’ The same voice that told me to relax!
Eighty… The manicured hands, holding something silver that sparkles,
dance over my skin…
Seventy-nine… I try to focus on the object. It kind of looks like… I hope
it’s not a –
Seventy-eight… The scalpel nudges at my skin. I try to twist away but my
body won’t rouse in rejection.
Seventy-seven… The scalpel dives inside of me, searching for change. My
lips are stained red.
Seventy-six… Silent screaming starts in my head as my body lies flat,
unresisting.
Seventy-five… Semi-tortured mind crying in excruciating pain, my
submissive body afraid of the scalpel’s every twist and turn.
Seventy-four… Sudden quiet.
Seventy-three… I choke down the blood and pain, lost.
Seventy-two… I look up, seeing the reality on the… television screen?
Seventy-one… My insides, live on television. Butchered in blue static.
Seventy… Red blood thrusts up and dark blue blood rains down
Sixty-nine… Fascinating… No. I’m dying!
Sixty-eight… But I look amazing doing so.
Sixty-seven… Everything slowly seems to move into a haze. The blood
dries firm on my lips.
Sixty-six… Heavily mascaraed eyes stare down into mine, concerned yet
pleased.
Sixty-five… ‘Welcome.’ The same voice that told me to relax…
Sixty-three…

Good-morning!

‘This morning we’re counting down the top one hundred songs from…’
I snap awake. What happened?
‘… and up next is song sixty-two…’
I can feel my pillow soaked, in sweat. I can feel my underwear clinging to
my skin, in sweat. Time to get up.

Sixty-one…
Sixty… I can’t get up. Again.
Fifty-nine…

I make it out of bed on my fifty-eighth attempt.
I skip breakfast.
I dress in my uniform.
Red lipstick coats my mouth, several flicks of the mascara wand stroke
my lashes and I smell strongly of heavy perfume.

The bus comes.
Everyone’s eyes follow me as I walk down the aisle, and my eyes look
over them.
I sit next to a girl who looks exactly like me, and we sit amongst fifty-
seven other girls who all look exactly like us.
Most of them appear pleased and happy. Some are hiding their sweat and
trying not to look bothered from their sleep.
Blood runs down the legs of the girl next to me.

Fifty-six…
Fifty-five… I walk past the windows to the art room.
Fifty-four… Some of the girls crowd around a table, turning the patient
into one of us.
Fifty-three… The silent screaming shatters the windows. She’s putting up a
fight.
Fifty-two… She won’t win.
Fifty-one…

Fifty…
Forty-nine… I walk into a toilet cubicle.
Forty-eight… One of us keeps slashing at her body with a scalpel. She
watches me watch her.
Forty-seven... It takes one hundred slashes for her to become separated
from the rest of us.
Forty-six… Good for her.
Forty-five…

__________________
'Beauty stands and waits with gravity to start her death-defying leap. And he, a little charleychaplin man, who may or may not catch her fair eternal form spreadeagled in the empty air of existence.' - Laurence Felinghetti, 'The Acrobat'

gohn67

Interesting idea, LisaJane. Didnt you do something else that was similar to this. It wasn't the one that you linked, but a different one. IT was something about surgery and you did the counting backwards thing, but you used alot of one line sentences. You said you were trying to write without a POV. is that the same story as this?

Anyways I liked this alot. Its pretty creepy. I would be so scared to watching myself get cutup and not being able to move.

One thing though, the paitents eyes are open right? If so wouldnt the doctors find that strange. I presume the eyes would be closed during surgery.

Great line. My second favorite line.

I thought this was the best line.

The only thing I am confused about is the sections after 58. The rest I am confused and not really sure whats going on. Is it a dream? or is it really happening?

__________________
The Frowning Dog Blog

lisajane

I don't remember posting a surgery one...I might've. This is the developed version of that (the surgery one was the developed version of the dream piece I linked). It's the same story, now it has a POV.

... yeah, that's the point... they are closed, but in this story my character's eyes open...

After line 58 is really happening, but I've kept the dream sequence going throughout.

__________________
'Beauty stands and waits with gravity to start her death-defying leap. And he, a little charleychaplin man, who may or may not catch her fair eternal form spreadeagled in the empty air of existence.' - Laurence Felinghetti, 'The Acrobat'

gohn67

Yea I understand that the eyes are open. I was just wondering if the Surgeons would notice that her eyes are open.


Since in surgery normally the eyes are closed.

I do really like this though. thats just a minor plot hole.
Maybe these are evil surgeons, since what happens after the surgery seems very demented. With the girls cutting themselves.

So they were sewed together. Thats so creepy.

EDIT:Also I clicked the link that you posted and that story is so differnt from the story you just posted.

heres the story I was talking about
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtopic.php?t=13733

__________________
The Frowning Dog Blog

Scratches

Time I got off my butt to critique. First I'd like to say I think I preferred the former layout, but it's your choice - the effect of the below is, however you format it it's going to end up looking like poetry.

Is she cut off by her own counting here, because there's no noun to be seen after the discription of "overpowering toxic." You could have meant "overpoweringly toxic" of course. If she is cut off, you need a hyphen, not an ellipse.

I didn't understand the reference of "I could struggle".

This is reeeally picky but with these short sentences there really isn't enough pause between the numbers and the lines. So to me it reads like one of those number-rhyme poems. "One two buckle my shoe, Three, four, knock at the door" - that kind of thing. I think you either need to lengthen some lines or stop with the ellipses after numbers. Those really began to annoy me.

I liked the "close against" term.


I also don't understand why you use "rejection" - needs clarification. Also the alliteration it makes is sort of to the detriment of the grave atmosphere.

Why is this?

More alliteration. Also The "starts", I thought, was a bit weak.


Very effective.

I didn't understand what was going on in the first version of this I saw - now this line is in context, which is brilliant.

Shouldn't be as funny as it is

Great.

You could probably rearrange this so you didn't have to use "mascaraed."

Somehow doesn't sound right.

That was so creepy it reminded me of how I've seen too many Silent Hill games. I finally understand what's going on. Though my POV was the "separating" business was her suicide in order to become free from this collective of sorts. I'm not sure. It's a great, creepy story. My main suggestion is to go a little lighter on the ellipses, and vary your sentence structures - have some shorter ones in the second part of the story to add punch. Really well done.

__________________

Never get so attached to a poem
you forget truth that lacks lyricism
and never draw so close to the heat
that you forget that you must eat
- En Gallop, Joanna Newsom

lisajane

Gohn - they're not actually surgeons. Later in the story I point out - or make references to - the other female students operating. They're transforming all the female students to be exactly the same.

Um, no... it took the other girl a hundred slashes with the scalpel to die. When I say 'the rest of us' I'm referring to all the girls being one because they're all the same.

Scratches, thanks . This layout, on the actual Word document, is the same as the old one. However, I didn't think *** between each section was going to fit with this story.

I'll probably replace that particulary ellipse after 'toxic' with a hyphen.

'I could struggle' means that at that point, she could struggle to stay awake and not have the operation. But she doesn't know if she wants to.

I might length some lines... she's in a dazed mood in the dream which is why I didn't want to make the lines long. I won't take the ellipses out after the numbers though. It's supposed to sound like she's counting back the whole time, and we (teacher and I) didn't like hyphens or full stops or anything else after them.

I used rejection because the body won't reject the changes it's undergoing.

'My lips are stained red' has a double meaning - one, blood has bubbled at the corner of her mouth and two, the reference to the lipstick later on.

It's not necessarily her suicide. It's another girl's suicide. She watches another girl commit suicide. Though I guess this could be seen the other way around... maybe this is what my teacher meant by my writing being TOO cyptic...

__________________
'Beauty stands and waits with gravity to start her death-defying leap. And he, a little charleychaplin man, who may or may not catch her fair eternal form spreadeagled in the empty air of existence.' - Laurence Felinghetti, 'The Acrobat'

Aevin

... Eh?

Stream of consciousness, I presume?

This is ... ah ... somethin' else. I can say this at least: it is very original. There is much of it that I don't understand--the number format, for one, though it's one of the highlights of the piece. I'm not sure whether this is a poem, a short story, or what. You've thoroughly confused the Aevin! Congratulations!

I loved the imagery of the scalpel.
Good stuff. The interruption before we find out what the object is is charged with suspense. The rest of the piece is, as well.

Something else I liked--as the story progressed, the numbers progressed faster and faster. In the beginning, the narrator seemed very conscious of the speed at which the numbers passed, but soon the action seemed to happen much too fast. The narrator experienced a speeding up as the action became more intense, as did the reader--most readers would begin skimming the numbers and reading the action by that point.

Hmm. Sorry ... This isn't being very helpful. The unusual structure of your piece has led to a rather haphazard structure of critique. *grumbles*

Suffice it to say ... I liked this story a lot, and absolutely loved its weirdness. It's very refreshing to read something so unique. Good job, Lisajane!

--Aevin

__________________
"Go to, like, greater adventures!"
--Din from Namco's Tales of the Abyss

Scratches

That's what I meant, another girl's suicide. Glad I got that right

__________________

Never get so attached to a poem
you forget truth that lacks lyricism
and never draw so close to the heat
that you forget that you must eat
- En Gallop, Joanna Newsom

lisajane

Lol thanks Aevin. Glad I confused you. This did originally start as a short story... then it just seemed to get weirder and stranger with re-writes.

And Scratches, was that sarcastic or not?

__________________
'Beauty stands and waits with gravity to start her death-defying leap. And he, a little charleychaplin man, who may or may not catch her fair eternal form spreadeagled in the empty air of existence.' - Laurence Felinghetti, 'The Acrobat'

Scratches

Not. I'm not even sure how that could be sarcastic...! I'll be quiet now, I liked your story, full stop

__________________

Never get so attached to a poem
you forget truth that lacks lyricism
and never draw so close to the heat
that you forget that you must eat
- En Gallop, Joanna Newsom

lisajane

Lol thanks Scratches *hug*

I tend to take things the wrong way sometimes...

__________________
'Beauty stands and waits with gravity to start her death-defying leap. And he, a little charleychaplin man, who may or may not catch her fair eternal form spreadeagled in the empty air of existence.' - Laurence Felinghetti, 'The Acrobat'

badwriter1000

I thought it kicked ass!

It kept me running from line to line to see what was next.

Great piece IMHO

__________________
There are no bad writers... Just me!