The Cold Winter Night - Writers Forum

The Thing · 02-14-2006, 01:42 PM

Since I've been reading a lot of Lovecraft lately I have written this piece that is obviously inspired by his writting. It is not based on any of his work. I would like to know what you think. Does it work?

It was bitterly cold on the night that I witnessed the horrific incident. A night blue with darkness and white with frost. At such an ungodly witching-hour my bones quivered within the moist folds of the muscles that clung tightly to them. And I was alone. That was the most unfortunate thing about this statement as, through no thought of my own, I possessed no witness to the events that I am about to reveal. Please, take in to account as so many others have, that I am what the law would consider an unreliable witness. There are things I do and habits I partake in that cause others to mistrust me; to tar me with the same brush as others who share my interests. I am an alcoholic. I am addicted to cocaine. I pay to spend nights with women and men. But I am not a bad person. Do not judge me on these criteria or you may gloss over the details that I shall soon relate. But also, be wary of the facts. I do mingle with unsavoury folk, and you do not know me. Who am I to tell you that you must trust me? I ultimately must leave the final decision to you.

I left the Rising sun at around an hour after closing time. Being on friendly terms with the landlord afforded me the time to drink without being rushed. However, I do believe that the only reason the landlord gives me the time of day is because he wants my money as I am here every day. This puts my on the streets of Eltham at about midnight, which I am certain, if you read the newspapers closely, puts me in the right area at roughly the right time.

The month was February. Winter, itself the season of death, was coming to the end of its life. This winter, however, had been the driest in over a hundred years. There had been no snow nor rain for near on five months. But it was still cold. I pulled my woolly hat down over my reddening ears, stuck my hands into thick leather gloves, and pulled my jacket collar up. With my shoulders hunched I began my journey home.

I walked down the High Street and right into Archery Road. Away from the thin late night traffic and the white lights from the shop windows these back streets of Eltham seemed decidedly darker. With the night not getting any younger, few houses were lit up as the occupants drifted off to sleep. I was alone. Me and the night.

Except that I was not as alone as I had first thought. As I turned left into Dobell Road I was, at first, drawn to the flickering street light. Even from the street corner I could hear the crackling of the bulb as it struggled to stay alight. The area of darkness at the foot of the lamp shrunk and expanded with the faltering luminescence. The first sign that I noticed that there was somebody lurking inside that blanket of shadow was when I perceived a slight wisp of expelled breath. It emerged from the dark like a puff of smoke, rising in a dance until it dispersed into the night. My drunken vision could not penetrate the gloom nor could it discern any form or silhouette. I had an uneasy feeling brought about, no doubt, by my insistent awareness that I was alone. Yes, there was somebody else in the very same street as I. But friend or foe I knew not. If friend then I could warily walk by without so much as a hint of trouble. But if foe… I was in no fit state to be defending myself. I was entirely unable to fight off would-be attackers in a state of complete sobriety. What chance did I have drunk?

Selorian · 02-14-2006, 05:59 PM

There's no doubt you have a fairly good grasp of Lovecraft's style. I could tell that from the first sentence. Now, I don't mean this in a bad way, but 'immitation is the most sincere form of flattery', but if you can now take this style and blend it with your own to create a unique style for you, then it will be good. I know you probably knew, and planned, on doing just that, but I thought it worth mentioning.

The story itself is very engaging, drawing the reader in. Maybe more so for me, because as I've stated elsewhere on the forums to you, I'm also a fan of Lovecraft. With that being said, there are a few places I want to point out. Some of them are likely to just be a style issue. Any such instances can be taken as no more than suggestions, with it totally up to you whether or not you feel like incorporating them. Some others will be cutting out what I percieve to be extraneous words for the sake of tightening the writing while, hopefully, not changing the Lovecraftian style. Again, the same with these as above on how you want to use them.

Quote:

It was bitterly cold on the night that I witnessed the horrific incident. A night blue with darkness and white with frost. At such an ungodly witching-hour my bones quivered within the moist folds of the muscles that clung tightly to them. And I was alone. That was the most unfortunate thing about this statement as, through no thought of my own, I possessed no witness to the events that I am about to reveal. Please, take into account, as so many others have, that I am what the law would consider an unreliable witness. There are things I do and habits I partake in that cause others to mistrust me; to tar me with the same brush as others who share my interests. I am an alcoholic. I am addicted to cocaine. I pay to spend nights with women and men. But I am not a bad person. Do not judge me on these criteria or you may gloss over the details that I shall soon relate. But also, be wary of the facts. I do mingle with unsavoury folk, and you do not know me. Who am I to tell you that you must trust me? I ultimately must leave the final decision to you.

Both the first and second 'that' I highlighted can be removed. I changed 'in to' to 'into' as it should be used here. There needs to be a coma added after 'account' and before 'as'.

Quote:

I left the Rising Sun at around an hour after closing time. Being on friendly terms with the landlord afforded me the time to drink without being rushed. However, I do believe that the only reason the landlord gives me the time of day is because he wants my money as I am here every day. This puts me on the streets of Eltham at about midnight, which I am certain, if you read the newspapers closely, puts me in the right area at roughly the right time.

'Sun ' needed to be capitalized. The 'that' can be cut. The phrase 'as I am here everyday' can be cut because it adds nothing, but if you wish to leave it, there needs to be a comma between 'money' and 'as'. You had 'my', I changed it to 'me'--you can use something else here but 'my' doesn't work.

Quote:

The month was February. Winter, itself the season of death, was coming to the end of its life. This winter, however, had been the driest in over a hundred years. There had been no snow nor rain for near on five months. But it was still cold. I pulled my woolly hat down over my reddening ears, stuck my hands into thick leather gloves, and pulled my jacket collar up. With my shoulders hunched I began my journey home.

No changes here.

Quote:

I walked down the High Street and right into Archery Road. Away from the thin late night traffic and the white lights from the shop windows, these back streets of Eltham seemed decidedly darker. With the night not getting any younger, few houses were lit up as the occupants drifted off to sleep. I was alone. Me and the night.

Can cut 'the'. A coma is needed after 'windows'.

Quote:

Except that I was not as alone as I had first thought. As I turned left into Dobell Road, I was, at first, drawn to the flickering street light. Even from the street corner I could hear the crackling of the bulb as it struggled to stay alight. The area of darkness at the foot of the lamp shrunk and expanded with the faltering luminescence. The first sign that I noticed that there was somebody lurking inside the blanket of shadow was when I perceived a slight wisp of expelled breath. It emerged from the dark like a puff of smoke, rising in a dance until it dispersed into the night. My drunken vision could not penetrate the gloom, nor could it discern any form or silhouette. I had an uneasy feeling, brought about, no doubt, by my insistent awareness that I was alone. Yes, there was somebody else in the very same street as I. But friend or foe, I knew not. If friend, then I could warily walk by without so much as a hint of trouble. But if foe… I was in no fit state to be defending myself. I was entirely unable to fight off would-be attackers in a state of complete sobriety. What chance did I have drunk?

The 'that' can be removed. There needs to be a coma after 'Road' and before 'I'. Cut out 'that' and change the last 'that' to 'the' (as I have shown) due to not needing them all, not to mention being redundant. Comas need to be added between 'gloom' and 'nor', 'feeling' and 'brought', 'foe' and 'I', and 'friend' and 'then'.

Overall, I liked the story. There are places I would change if I was writing it, but I know you are trying to stay as close to Lovecraft's style as possible. The style is dated and contains many unnecessary phrases, but it is his style of writing. Much could be done to adapt the style by simply rewording things to get rid of these unnecessary bits.

Good job. I look forward to reading more if there is.

The Thing · 02-15-2006, 12:07 PM

Thanks, Selorian, for you helpful words. Here is the rest of the story. I don't know about anybody else but I think it loses it here. Oh well, at least that's keeping with the Lovecraft style. As before, let me know your thoughts on this. Thanks
----------------------------

My stumbling ramble home, however, dictated that I must pass the curiosity in thickened darkness. I resigned myself to whatever inescapable predestined doom fate’s hand offered me. Drawing from deep within my soul I withdrew the courage required, and prayed to a God I had forsaken since a distant childhood that it would be enough.

It was in the instance I took my first venturesome step that I became aware of the moon. Or moreover the lack of the lunar orb. On this night of all nights whereby I wished for the heavenly light to illuminate my path with its silver radiance such hopes were dashed. I felt incredibly alone.

Remaining on the opposite path to the flickering street light I marched with determination towards my destination. My face, intentionally peering away from the shadow beneath the light, twitched in fear. An incredible tension tightened around my chest as I neared the fearsome darkness. And then the voice that chilled my heart. It was spoken in a whisper, but it echoed around the gulf of terror that coursed through my veins. Never shall I forget the word spoken, simple in execution, but horrifying with delivery.

“Help.” Spoken with the voice of the grave, or of those soon to reach it. A small, pathetic croak as if from some amphibious vigil of the night. My inquiring mind turned me towards the plea. And if terror had ran in my veins before, at least it had flowed. Now the blood coursing through my body froze at the image flashing before me like a hundred pictures in a cartoon flip-book. A sight so hideous and chilling I vowed, after this night, never to go out again after dark.

A man, worn and ragged in clothing and style, stared into my eyes with a glare so full of hate that excess abhorrence ran down his cheeks. His shape was animalistic and gangly. It came to mind in that moment that this man was feral. A being so like the beasts of the wild as to be driven through life by the motivation of instinct. With this train of thought I soon realised that he did in fact have a wolfish look in his face. It was hard to pin-point at first but the longer our eyes remained locked the more I caught the yellow tint in his iris’. But this man was only a portion of what terrified me. Slumped and limp and held up by the wolf-man’s immense hand was the man who had cried for help. He was beyond saving at this point and now possessed a dark, bloody hole in his throat. The last of his life whistled from his torn windpipe, a flap of skin flittering in the escaping air.

Drunk I may have been, but stupid I wasn’t. I scurried away to the end of Dobell Road as fast as I could. Turning right into Well Hall Road I progressed from a scurry into a sprint. Well Hall Road was much better lit, as it was the main road between Eltham and Woolwich, but I didn’t stop until I reached the safety of Eltham Station. The whole time I feared to look back. The terror of the feral man and his hate-lusting eyes were the last thing I wanted to see loping towards me. Entering the station I jumped on the last train home and peered eagerly through the frosty window. The train pulled away and I relaxed.

That is my version of events. Take from it what you may. I don’t ask you to believe me, but take care when crossing darkened back streets, and if you should see people of a feral persuasion lurking in the shadows; if you should be in place of the poor soul whose throat was ripped out, remember who warned you. Remember whose words you ignored as being the ramblings of a drug-addicted alcoholic. I will pray to a God I have since rediscovered that your soul rest in peace.

For me, I have acquired a fear of the dark not felt since I was but an infant. Maybe children are more aware than I have previously gave credit. Nonetheless, I have turned my life around since that night. I no longer drink alcohol nor sniff cocaine. Sadly, my rediscovered faith was short lived. No God could give me comfort after I realised what else they populated this Earth with to lurk in the darkest shadows.

People no longer choose to speak to me. They say it is because I forever talk about one thing - this event I share with you. With nobody to believe my words I am alone.

spongebob squarepants · 02-15-2006, 06:38 PM

what?! No dialogue. No offense, but it's quite boring. Well descridbled, but no pint.

Selorian · 02-15-2006, 07:05 PM

Lovecraft very seldom used dialogue in his writing, and since this is in his style, it isn't surprising about the lack of dialogue.

Thing, I will get back to the second part of the story as soon as I can.

Stewart · 02-16-2006, 07:35 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by The Thing

through no thought of my own

Surely you mean fault?

The Thing · 02-16-2006, 01:07 PM

Quote:

Surely you mean fault?

Sure did.