Unconventional vampire story (1,678). - Writers Forum

Mr Abattoir · 03-20-2008, 07:23 AM

i just wrote this short story and i wanted some opinions/criticism. it just popped into my head almost fully formed. i like it better than most of my stuff.
so tell me what you think!

IMMORTALITY STORY.
His eyes were the colour of a blood-drenched sunset. They were clear and bright, burning with a feral yet graceful intelligence. It was like he knew things no one was supposed to know. Those eyes held secrets, Morgan thought. In any other circumstances he probably would have sat the man down and picked his brain. But unfortunately for Morgan, these weren’t any other circumstances.
‘You’re sweating,’ said the man, his voice as low as the dangerous murmurings of thunderheads. The lamplight reflected off his pale, waxen skin and made him look like a ghost. ‘Try to stop it. I don’t like the smell of sweat.’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Morgan mumbled. He wiped his palms along his pants, his hands shaking slightly as he did so. He didn’t think he could stop sweating, at least not until he stopped being terrified out of his mind. And that was certainly not going to happen as long as this . . . man continued to stand here in his house.
‘Wh-what’s your name?’ he asked, not even able to keep the tremor from his voice.
The man smiled widely, revealing extremely white teeth with elegantly elongated canines. They glinted like knives in the light. ‘That’s good. You want to know about me, you want to learn.’ Those piercing eyes never once left Morgan’s. ‘You can call me Argyle.’
It took a moment for the name to sink in. It was a strange name, Morgan thought. A strange name for a strange man.
The cold was sinking into his bones, making his arms and legs and back ache. He had thought he was going to have an early night tonight. He had been looking forward all day to crawling into his warm bed with a good book for an hour or so, and then drifting off into a dreamy sleep.
The man – or the vampire, as Morgan was now coming to think of him – shifted slightly in his chair. He was sitting opposite Morgan, and they were both situated in front of the vast window. It was night outside, and the wind played havoc with the trees. It was an eerie, howling sound, and not an uncommon one, but Morgan usually liked it. This night, his attention was diverted to other things.
They had been sitting in silence for a few minutes like this, listening to the howling of the wind and thinking their own thoughts, until Argyle said: ‘I like your stories.’
‘I don’t write,’ Morgan replied, not even thinking about it, ‘I’m in corporate accounts.’
Argyle threw his hands up into the air, smiling his sharp smile. ‘Well of course! I’m very sorry; I’ve made a grave mistake. There must be another Morgan Cartwright who is so good at his job – which may or may not be corporate accounts – that he spends his copious amounts of spare time writing stories. Sorry again sir, I’ll just be going.’
But he didn’t move from his seat. He lowered his hands and rested them, folded over each other, onto his lap. Argyle smiled and cocked his head, continuing to bore what Morgan now thought must be very large holes into his face with those piercing eyes. He looked away after a scant few seconds. The vampire didn’t.
‘That’s right; I am a vampire. It’s nice to meet you. Now, can you help me or not?’
‘I – I don’t . . . I don’t know what you want me to help you with. What would you –’
Argyle held up one very straight, long, and pale index finger to silence him. ‘The thing is, I like to read. I’ve always wanted to write a book, too, but I’m not much of a writer. You, however, are.’
‘But how could you possibly know that?’ Morgan was bewildered.
Argyle only smiled. ‘You mean how could I possibly know that you wrote your first story when you were twelve without even realising it? Or that it was about a toy rabbit that murders its little-girl owner and her family? Or that you’re bored with your job, but so good at it that you don’t think there’s any point in quitting and starting all over again? That is one question which I will not answer. At least not yet.’
Morgan said nothing. He was shocked. How could this man, how could anybody know any of that, he thought furiously. Who was he? Who was this man?
Argyle responded with equal silence. That trance-like smile remained on his face, his teeth gleaming in the light. Outside, the wind continued to howl.
After a minute Morgan couldn’t stand the silence any longer. He broke in with: ‘Please, what do you want from me?’
For the first time, Argyle frowned. ‘Dear dear, you make it sound as though I’m holding you against your will, that I’m . . . threatening you.’ his frown deepened and he thought for a moment. ‘Well, I suppose I am holding you against your will. But there’s nothing we can do about that. As for threats . . .’ he seemed to stretch in the chair, his body elongating as he opened his mouth in a wide, crazy yawn. ‘I’m not adverse to that, if I should have to. But I’m sure we can keep it all polite.’
‘Okay,’ Morgan replied dumbly.
Argyle’s smile returned. ‘But you still want to know what I want, don’t you?’
Morgan nodded.
‘I’ve lived for most of forever, and I have almost everything that there is to have. But there’s one thing that I don’t have, and that’s a story. Sorry, let me rephrase that. I have a story, but it’s my own, and I know it already. I like to read, as I said. I’ve probably read every book you could think of. But I want one that’s mine, one that belongs to me. I want a story other than my own, about . . . anything, as long as I like it. Do you understand?’ his eyes were wide now, the whites shining like pearls in the dark.
‘I . . . think so,’ said Morgan. In truth, he wasn’t entirely sure that he did. Argyle noticed this.
‘What I mean is, I want to own a story. I want someone – you – to write a story specifically for me. I don’t know what I want it to be about yet; you’re the writer, after all. But I want it to be mine. Just mine. I want to be the first person to say, “I own this story. It’s mine and it was written just for me.” But I don’t mean it in the same way that people dedicate books to their loved ones. That’s just a passing formality. No, I want a story, I want a fiction. And I want it to be mine.’
This was crazy. This was insane. This was . . . Jesus. It was totally beyond Morgan’s comprehension. Here he was, a prisoner in his own house at the hands of a vampire, no less: an immortal, bloodsucking creature of myth that, it turned out, was as real as he was. And this vampire, this creature, wanted him – Morgan Cartwright, who worked in corporate accounts for a living and wrote stories as a hobby more than anything (he would never have even considered getting published) – to write a story specifically for him. He would have feinted if he wasn’t so scared that the vampire would drink his blood. What a night he was having.
At last he managed to find his voice. He cleared his throat. ‘But . . . why me? Surely, surely you could get any other famous writer to do this. I’m no one. I doodle out stories in my spare time, and I don’t think I’m particularly good at it. I don’t understand.’
There was a twinkle in Argyle’s eye, as if he had been waiting for this question. ‘Why you? I’ll tell you why: because you are fresh. You don’t carry the weight of it as a career. It isn’t everything you think about. It’s something you do in your spare time, as a hobby. And I like that. You’re not conceited about it. You’re honest, and modest, and quiet. Nobody actually knows what you do in your spare time. It’s a secret for you; it’s like a little treasure that you keep hidden away out of the light. This is what has drawn me to you. To me, you are more precious than Byron or Hemmingway or . . . anybody, because you keep it to yourself.’
Morgan didn’t know what to say. He guessed – correctly – that he didn’t have any choice. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad; it was only a story after all.
‘Alright. I’ll do it.’ He tried to smile, but it came out a little more sour than he had intended.
Argyle looked ebullient. ‘Excellent.’
Just then Morgan thought of something. It wasn’t something he would normally have thought of, because he was not a greedy man, but he figured that in this instance it was alright to ask. ‘I don’t suppose . . . I . . . I mean, is there anything in it for me, by any chance?’ he looked nervously at the vampire, immediately wishing that he hadn’t said anything.
But Argyle merely smiled his unsurprised smile. ‘I thought you’d never bring that up. Of course, when this is done, you can have anything you want. Anything within my power to give, obviously. But not until then, not until I have what I want.’
‘Oh. Th-thank you.’
The vampire leaned forward in his chair, still smiling. His hands rested on his knees, and the firelight reflected off his fingernails, making them look even glassier than they already were. The window behind his head looked like a great dark halo, the trees bending wildly in the darkness. For a moment, Morgan had the crazy urge to run. As the vampire spoke, rain started to make its music against the window. ‘Now Mister Cartwright,’ Argyle whispered in his muted, threatening tones. ‘I want you to write me a story.’

WriterJohnB · 03-20-2008, 01:35 PM

It's quite well-written, but I expect an ending when I read a story. This just sort of trails off. It doesn't seem to have a beginning either, in the sense that the vamp is just "in" his house. How did he get there? Did the writer let him in. If so, why? In other words, the story left me with a lot of questions and a disappointed feeling. (typo: feint instead of "faint.")

Hope that helps,

JohnB

Mr Abattoir · 03-20-2008, 07:36 PM

thanks for the feedback WriterJohnB.

i had the same thought about the fairly ambiguous ending and lack of explanation. sometimes i like to leave thing fairly open; either for the sake of interpretation or because i'm going to elaborate on the story later.

Vee · 03-23-2008, 04:47 AM

What is it with all these people wanting starts to stories of how people got to where they are. That's the boring bit.

This short story started at exactly the right point, the hook. If it is to be continued later, elaborating on how the character got to that point is imperative.

As it stands it is a good short story with an ambiguous ending for reasons the author has outlined.

Ilasir Maroa · 03-23-2008, 12:07 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Mr Abattoir

i just wrote this short story and i wanted some opinions/criticism. it just popped into my head almost fully formed. i like it better than most of my stuff.
so tell me what you think!

IMMORTALITY STORY.
His eyes were the colour of a blood-drenched sunsetnice thought, but I don't think I've ever seen a sunset drenched in blood. They were clear and bright, burning with a feral yet graceful"graceful intelligence" strikes me as odd, even if it doesn't conflict with feral. intelligence. It was like he knew things no one was supposed to know. Those eyes held secrets, Morgan thought. In any other circumstances he probably would have sat the man down and picked his brain. But unfortunately for Morgan, these weren’t any other circumstances.this wjole sentence seems to belabor the point. You could just drop it, and the next sentence would pick up the slack.
‘You’re sweating,’ said the man, his voice as low as the dangerous murmurings of thunderheadsthis seems a bit too flowery. The lamplight reflected"reflecting" and dropping the "and" would make this sentence a bit stronger in my opinion. Otherwise it comes off as a bit clumsy, IMO. off his pale, waxen"pale, waxen" seems a bit redundant. skin and made him look like a ghost. ‘Try to stop it.he might sound a bit mre menacing with the simple imperative "stop it". I don’t like the smell of sweat.’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Morgan mumbled. He wiped his palms along his pants, his hands shaking slightly as he did sotry reading this after dropping "slightly as he did" I don't think it sounds much different meaning-wise, but it does flow better. He didn’t think he could stop sweating, at least not until he stopped being terrified out of his mind. And that was certainly not going to happen as long as this . . . man continued to stand here in his house.
‘Wh-what’s your name?’ he asked, not even able to keep the tremor from his voice.try dropping everything after "asked". Doesn't the dash in the actual dialogue handle the "stammering" fine?
The man smiled widely, revealing extremely white teeth with elegantly elongated caninesNow that's just being a bit obvious. You seem to want a sense of fright, and that blatant vampire reference could really turn off the audience.. They glinted like knives in the lighta bit flowery.. ‘That’s good. You want to know about me, you want to learn.’ Those piercing eyes never once left Morgan’s. ‘You can call me Argyle.’
It took a moment for the name to sink in. It was a strange name, Morgan thought. A strange name for a strange man.
The cold was sinkingyoun already used sink nearby. Try picking one of them to keep, and dropping or replacing the other. into his bones, making his arms and legs and back ache. He had thought he was going to have an early night tonight. He hadwhy not use a contraction, especially since two full "had"s in a row is a bit jarring, least to me. been looking forward all day to crawling into his warm bed with a good book for an hour or so, and then drifting off into a dreamy sleep.is "dreamy" really necessary?
The man – or the vampire, as Morgan was now coming to think of himthis is clear to the reader, so just stopping after "vampire" will get the point across. – shifted slightly in his chair. He was sitting opposite Morgan, and they were both situated in front of the vast window. It was night outside, and the wind played havoc with the trees. It was an eerie, howling sound, and not an uncommon one, but Morgan usually liked itIs there a way to say this with less words? "Morgan usually liked the eerie howling outside his window at night. But now". This night, his attention was diverted to other things.
They had been sitting in silence for a few minutes like this"like this" seems unecessary., listening to the howling of the windone mention of howling wind ought to be enough. and thinking their own thoughts, untilIf you drop "until" and replace that comma with a semicolon or period, the dialogue tag would be a lot more effective in snapping the mood. Argyle said: ‘I like your stories.’
‘I don’t write,’ Morgan replied, not even thinking about it, ‘I’m in corporate accounts.’
Argyle threw his hands up into the air, smiling his sharp smile. ‘Well of course! I’m very sorry; I’ve made a grave mistake. There must be another Morgan Cartwright who is so good at his job – which may or may not be corporate accounts – that he spends his copious amounts of spare time writing stories. Sorry again sir, I’ll just be going.’The sarcasm here is a bit melodramatic.
But he didn’t move from his seat. He lowered his hands and rested them, folded over each otherI think the reader will get that from "rested his hands on his lap", onto his lap. Argyle smiled and cocked his head, continuing to bore what Morgan now thought must be very large holes into his face with those piercing eyesThe use of "Morgan" between "bore and his face" suggests that Argyle is boring holes into his own face. You'
ve interrupted the readers chain of imagery.Try just saying, "into Morgan's face". HeSay "Morgan", because a pronoun as subject tends to refer to the subject of the previous sentence, which in this case was Argyle. looked away after a scantredundant. a "few seconds" is always scant. few seconds. The vampire didn’t.
‘That’s right; I am a vampire. It’s nice to meet you. Now, can you help me or not?’
‘I – I don’t . . . I don’t know what you want me to help you with. What would you –’
Argyle held up one very straight, long, and pale index finger to silence him"Argyle held up a finger to silence him." Assuming that the reader already gets the fact that Argyle is a vampire and has all the traits thereof, my version of the sentence should be sufficient to give the reader the proper image.. ‘The thing is, I like to read. I’ve always wanted to write a book, too, but I’m not much of a writer. You, however, are.’
‘But how could you possibly know that?’ Morgan was bewildered.
Argyle only smiled. ‘You mean how could I possibly know that you wrote your first story when you were twelve without even realising it? Or that it was about a toy rabbit that murders its little-girl owner and her family? Or that you’re bored with your job, but so good at it that you don’t think there’s any point in quitting and starting all over again? That is one question which I will not answer. At least not yet.This bit of dialogue is too melodramatic for the shock value you were after.’
Morgan said nothing. He was shockedsee, already knew morgan was supposed to be shocked.. How could this man, how could anybodymaybe italicize this for emphahsis? know any of that, he thought furiouslyI think it's clear that he's thinking "furiously" without you butting into the story to say it.. Who was he? Who was this manI think we've established that Morgan sees him as a vampire now, and not a man, so this sentence is a bit contradictory...?
Argyle responded with equal silencePhysically yes, but you can't say equal because Morgan is quite vocal mentally.. That trance-like smile remained on his face, his teeth gleaming in the lightenough with the teeth already.. Outside, the wind continued to howland the howling wind.
After a minute Morgan couldn’t stand the silenceyou could just say it, especially since the :howling wind" kind of precludes silence. any longer. He broke in with"with:" seems very theater like. Satge directions are generally a no-no in prose writing. And exactly what is Morgan's plea "breaking into"?: ‘Please, what do you want from me?’
For the first time, Argyle frowned. ‘Dear dear, you make it sound as though I’m holding you against your will, that I’m . . . threatening you.’ his frown deepened and he thought for a moment. ‘Well, I suppose I am holding you against your will. But there’s nothing we can do about that. As for threats . . .’ he seemed to stretch in the chair, his body elongatingnot sure I get this... as he opened his mouth in a wide, crazy yawn. ‘I’m not adverse to that, if I should have to. But I’m sure we can keep it all polite.’
‘Okay,’ Morgan replied dumbly.
Argyle’s smile returned. ‘But you still want to know what I want, don’t you?’
Morgan nodded.
‘I’ve lived for most of forever, and I have almost everything that there is to have. But there’s one thing that I don’t have, and that’s a story. Sorry, let me rephrase that. I have a story, but it’s my own, and I know it already. I like to read, as I said. I’ve probably read every book you could think of. But I want one that’s mine, one that belongs to me. I want a story other than my own, about . . . anything, as long as I like it. Do you understand?’ his eyes were wide now, the whites shining like pearls in the dark.
‘I . . . think so,’ said Morgan. In truth, he wasn’t entirely sure that he did. Argyle noticed this.
‘What I mean is, I want to own a story. I want someone – you – to write a story specifically for me. I don’t know what I want it to be about yet; you’re the writer, after all. But I want it to be mine. Just mine. I want to be the first person to say, “I own this story. It’s mine and it was written just for me.” But I don’t mean it in the same way that people dedicate books to their loved ones. That’s just a passing formality. No, I want a story, I want a fiction. And I want it to be mine.’
This was crazy. This was insane. This was . . . Jesusumm... are you comparing the situation or the vampire to "jesus", because that's how I read it the first time through.... It was totally beyond Morgan’s comprehension. Here he was, a prisoner in his own house at the hands of a vampire, no less: an immortal, bloodsucking creature of myth that, it turned out, was as real as he was. And this vampire, this creature, wanted him – Morgan Cartwright, who worked in corporate accounts for a living and wrote stories as a hobby more than anything (he would never have even considered getting published) – to write a story specifically for him. He would have feinted"fainted" if he wasn’t so scared that the vampire would drink his blood. What a night he was having.
At last he managed to find his voice. He cleared his throat. ‘But . . . why me? Surely, surely you could get any other famous writer to do this. I’m no one. I doodle out stories in my spare time, and I don’t think I’m particularly good at it. I don’t understand.’
There was a twinkle in Argyle’s eye, as if he had been waiting for this question. ‘Why you? I’ll tell you why: because you are fresh. You don’t carry the weight of it as a career. It isn’t everything you think about. It’s something you do in your spare time, as a hobby. And I like that. You’re not conceited about it. You’re honest, and modest, and quiet. Nobody actually knows what you do in your spare time. It’s a secret for you; it’s like a little treasure that you keep hidden away out of the light. This is what has drawn me to you. To me, you are more precious than Byron or Hemmingway or . . . anybody, because you keep it to yourself.’
Morgan didn’t know what to say. He guessed – correctlyno shit? – that he didn’t have any choice. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad; it was only a story after all.
‘Alright. I’ll do it.’ He tried to smile, but it came out a little more sour than he had intended.
Argyle looked ebullient. ‘Excellent.’
Just then, Morgan thought of something. It wasn’t something he would normally have thought of, because he was not a greedy man, but he figured that in this instance it was alright to ask. ‘I don’t suppose . . . I . . . I mean, is there anything in it for me, by any chance?’ he looked nervously at the vampire, immediately wishing that he hadn’t said anything.
But Argyle merely smiled his unsurprised smile. ‘I thought you’d never bring that up. Of course, when this is done, you can have anything you want. Anything within my power to give, obviously. But not until then, not until I have what I want.’
‘Oh. Th-thank you.’
The vampire leaned forward in his chair, still smiling. His hands rested on his knees, and the firelight reflected off his fingernails, making them look even glassier than they already werebit too much with the fingernails, 'specially since you havent hinted at "glassy"ness before.. The window behind his head looked like a great dark halo, the trees bending wildly in the darknessused "darkness" too close to "dark". For a moment, Morgan had the crazy urge to run. As the vampire spoke, rain started to make its music against the window. ‘Now Mister Cartwright,’ Argyle whispered in his muted, threatening tones. ‘I want you to write me a story.the repetition of something obvious doesn't have the power a last line should hold.’

This strikes as similar to "Interview with a Vampire" even if it's fiction that this one is after. I like the idea of a vampire having nothing he consideres "his", though. A good theme, and portrayed in a way I haven't seen very often. I think you have a good start here, with a hook and all, but you tend to indulge a bit in flowery language, which doesn't always support the atmosphere you seem to be after. You also seem not to quite trust the reader enough, but most people have that issue at one time or another. There's no need to detail old vampire stand-bys, when you're reader probably has them by heart. I look forward to seeing a continuation of this.

Hobo · 03-23-2008, 12:39 PM

Am I the only one how wants to read more about the evil death bunny?

Mr Abattoir · 03-24-2008, 03:23 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Hobo

Am I the only one how wants to read more about the evil death bunny?

thanks Hobo

if you like evil bunnies that much, check out my thread called Ducks Eat Babies. i gave it the wrong title, but it's actually about a murderous rabbit. you might enjoy it.

Mr Abattoir · 03-24-2008, 06:02 AM

Thanks for taking the time to give me all that excellent advice, Ilasir Maroa. i just did a quick rewrite, incorporating a lot of your points into the new version. i did disagree with a few, which i've listed here just for the sake of it, or to explain why i did what i did.

Also, the similarity to Interview with a Vampire occurred to me too, and I considered not writing it for this reason, but i ended up doing so anyway. I ALWAYS have that problem with flowery language, it’s really hard to curb it a lot of the time.

Thanks again

blood-drenched sunsetnice thought, but I don't think I've ever seen a sunset drenched in blood.
I don’t mean it literally. It just sounds better than saying something like “His eyes were the colour of a sunset the colour of blood.” Or “His eyes were the colour of blood”. The former is just plain rubbish, no matter how much I could try to hone it, and the latter is too clichéd.”

down and picked his brain. But unfortunately for Morgan, these weren’t any other circumstances.this wjole sentence seems to belabor the point. You could just drop it, and the next sentence would pick up the slack.
I tried it without this sentence, and it just doesn’t sound as good to me. I think it’s something about the ‘unfortunately for Morgan part’ that makes me want to keep it. And the repetition sounds fine to me too.

dangerous murmurings of thunderheadsthis seems a bit too flowery.
This is meant to sound like that. I wanted to give the sense of Argyle being elemental, as capricious as a storm, stuff like that. actually, anything to do with Argyle (descriptions, actions, dialogue) is meant to sound a little conceited or melodramatic. He’s got a highly developed superiority complex, plus he’s been around for a few centuries, so he’s bound to have developed his own weird way of speaking that combines a lot of the ages he’s lived through.

Try to stop it.he might sound a bit mre menacing with the simple imperative "stop it".
He’s trying to be as polite to Morgan as he can, to at least give the faint impression that he’s a nice person. And maybe he is . . .
This is harking back to the above point about his dialogue too. it’s all part of the character.

caninesNow that's just being a bit obvious. You seem to want a sense of fright, and that blatant vampire reference could really turn off the audience..
at this point the audience doesn’t actually know that Argyle’s a vampire. And I know it’s obvious, just like a lot of the other references to pale skin and long fingers and the like, but I’m not trying to describe him as a vampire, I’m describing him as a character, as Argyle. Also, it’s what Morgan sees, it’s how he realises what he’s actually dealing with.

sleep.is "dreamy" really necessary?
Yes, it’s just stating that he wanted to dream while he slept, rather than not. It’s also a small nod to the fact that he likes to escape from reality (probably a cliché) with his stories, and this is emulating that desire a little more. Maybe ‘dream-filled’ would sound better?

The man – or the vampire, as Morgan was now coming to think of himthis is clear to the reader, so just stopping after "vampire" will get the point across.
I’m torn between keeping this one and getting rid of it. on one hand I think it’s necessary because it takes us inside Morgan’s head, and on the other I agree with you. I’ll just keep it for now.

point in quitting and starting all over again? That is one question which I will not answer. At least not yet.This bit of dialogue is too melodramatic for the shock value you were after.’
I’ve changed this a bit, tell me if it’s better.

Outside, the wind continued to howland the howling wind.
This is just reiterating on the outside state of things. Just as the conversation continues, so does the wind. It’s a juxtaposition thing. Anyway I like that sentence, it seems to fit there.

’ he seemed to stretch in the chair, his body elongatingnot sure I get this...
It’s either just an illusion put forth by Argyle, or his body actually is elongating as he stretches; you don’t know.

rknessused "darkness" too close to "dark
I replaced ‘dark halo’ with gloomy halo. I don’t think it works exceptionally well, but I couldn’t think of any other word. I might have to change the sentence later.

‘I want you to write me a story.the repetition of something obvious doesn't have the power a last line should hold.’
I see your point with this, but I think the repetition is necessary; after all the procrastinating and conversation, the thing that the vampire wants, the thing that the story’s been leading up to, it’s finally about to happen.

Mr Abattoir · 03-24-2008, 06:39 AM

oh yeah, and here's the rewritten version

IMMORTALITY STORY.
His eyes were the colour of a blood-drenched sunset. They were clear and bright, burning with a feral yet graceful intelligence. It was like he knew things no one was supposed to know. Those eyes held secrets, Morgan thought. In any other circumstances he probably would have sat the man down and picked his brain. But unfortunately for Morgan, these weren’t any other circumstances.
‘You’re sweating,’ said the man, his voice as low as the dangerous murmurings of thunderheads. The lamplight reflecting off his waxen skin made him look like a ghost. ‘Try to stop it. I don’t like the smell of sweat.’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Morgan mumbled. He wiped his palms along his pants, his hands shaking slightly. He didn’t think he could stop sweating, at least not until he stopped being terrified out of his mind. And that was certainly not going to happen as long as this . . . man continued to stand here in his house.
‘Wh-what’s your name?’ he asked.
The man smiled widely, revealing extremely white teeth with elegantly elongated canines. They glinted coldly in the light. ‘That’s good. You want to know about me, you want to learn.’ Those piercing eyes never once left Morgan’s. ‘You can call me Argyle.’
It took a moment for the name to sink in. It was a strange name, Morgan thought. A strange name for a strange man.
The cold was soaking into his bones, making his arms and legs and back ache. He had thought he was going to have an early night tonight. He’d been looking forward all day to crawling into his warm bed with a good book for an hour or so, and then drifting off into a dreamy sleep.
The man – or the vampire, as Morgan was now coming to think of him – shifted slightly in his chair. He was sitting opposite Morgan, and they were both situated in front of the vast window. It was night outside, and the howling wind played havoc with the trees. It was an eerie sound, but Morgan usually liked it. This night, his attention was diverted to other things.
They had been sitting in silence for a few minutes, listening to the wind and thinking their own thoughts.
‘I like your stories.’ Argyle said.
‘I don’t write,’ Morgan replied, not even thinking about it, ‘I’m in corporate accounts.’
Argyle threw his hands up into the air, smiling his sharp smile. ‘Well of course! I’m very sorry; I’ve made a grave mistake. There must be another Morgan Cartwright who is so good at his job – which may or may not be corporate accounts – that he spends his copious amounts of spare time writing stories. Sorry again sir, I’ll just be going.’
But he didn’t move from his seat. He lowered his hands and rested them on his lap. Argyle smiled and cocked his head, continuing to bore large holes into Morgan’s face with those piercing eyes. Morgan looked away after a few seconds. The vampire didn’t.
‘That’s right; I am a vampire. It’s nice to meet you. Now, can you help me or not?’
‘I – I don’t . . . I don’t know what you want me to help you with. What would you –’
Argyle held up an index finger to silence him. ‘The thing is, I like to read. I’ve always wanted to write a book, too, but I’m not much of a writer. You, however, are.’
‘But how could you possibly know that?’ Morgan was bewildered.
Argyle only smiled. ‘You mean how could I possibly know anything about you, such as the fact that you wrote your first story when you were twelve about a toy rabbit that murders its little-girl owner and her family? Or that you’re bored with your job, but so good at it that you don’t think there’s any point in quitting and starting all over again? That is one question which I will not answer. At least not yet.’
Morgan said nothing. How could this man, how could anybody know any of that? Who was he? Who was this creature?
Argyle responded with silence. That trance-like smile remained on his face, his eyes gleaming in the light. Outside, the wind continued to howl.
After a minute, Morgan couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘what do you want from me?’
For the first time, Argyle frowned. ‘Dear dear, you make it sound as though I’m holding you against your will, that I’m . . . threatening you.’ his frown deepened and he thought for a moment. ‘Well, I suppose I am holding you against your will. But there’s nothing we can do about that. As for threats . . .’ he seemed to stretch in the chair, his body elongating as he opened his mouth in a wide, crazy yawn. ‘I’m not adverse to that, if I should have to. But I’m sure we can keep it all polite.’
‘Okay,’ Morgan replied dumbly.
Argyle’s smile returned. ‘But you still want to know what I want, don’t you?’
Morgan nodded.
‘I’ve lived for most of forever, and I have almost everything that there is to have. But there’s one thing that I don’t have, and that’s a story. Sorry, let me rephrase that. I have a story, but it’s my own, and I know it already. I like to read, as I said. I’ve probably read every book you could think of. But I want one that’s mine, one that belongs to me. I want a story other than my own, about . . . anything, as long as I like it. Do you understand?’ his eyes were wide now, the whites shining like pearls in the dark.
‘I . . . think so,’ said Morgan. In truth, he wasn’t entirely sure that he did. Argyle noticed this.
‘What I mean is, I want to own a story. I want someone – you – to write a story specifically for me. I don’t know what I want it to be about yet; you’re the writer, after all. But I want it to be mine. Just mine. I want to be the first person to say, “I own this story. It’s mine and it was written just for me.” But I don’t mean it in the same way that people dedicate books to their loved ones. That’s just a passing formality. No, I want a story, I want a fiction. And I want it to be mine.’
This was crazy. This was insane. It was totally beyond Morgan’s comprehension. Here he was, a prisoner in his own house at the hands of a vampire, no less: an immortal, bloodsucking creature of myth that, it turned out, was as real as he was. And this vampire, this creature, wanted him – Morgan Cartwright, who worked in corporate accounts for a living and wrote stories as a hobby more than anything (he would never have even considered getting published) – to write a story specifically for him. He would have fainted if he wasn’t so scared that the vampire would drink his blood. What a night he was having.
At last he managed to find his voice. He cleared his throat. ‘But . . . why me? Surely, surely you could get any other famous writer to do this. I’m no one. I doodle out stories in my spare time, and I don’t think I’m particularly good at it. I don’t understand.’
There was a twinkle in Argyle’s eye, as if he had been waiting for this question. ‘Why you? I’ll tell you why: because you are fresh. You don’t carry the weight of it as a career. It isn’t everything you think about. It’s something you do in your spare time, as a hobby. And I like that. You’re not conceited about it. You’re honest, and modest, and quiet. Nobody actually knows what you do in your spare time. It’s a secret for you; it’s like a little treasure that you keep hidden away out of the light. This is what has drawn me to you. To me, you are more precious than Byron or Hemmingway or . . . anybody, because you keep it to yourself.’
Morgan didn’t know what to say. He guessed that he didn’t have any choice. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad; it was only a story after all.
‘Alright. I’ll do it.’ He tried to smile, but it came out a little more sour than he had intended.
Argyle looked ebullient. ‘Excellent.’
Just then Morgan thought of something. It wasn’t something he would normally have thought of, because he was not a greedy man, but he figured that in this instance it was alright to ask. ‘I don’t suppose . . . I . . . I mean, is there anything in it for me, by any chance?’ he looked nervously at the vampire, immediately wishing that he hadn’t said anything.
But Argyle merely smiled his unsurprised smile. ‘I thought you’d never bring that up. Of course, when this is done, you can have anything you want. Anything within my power to give, obviously. But not until then, not until I have what I want.’
‘Oh. Th-thank you.’
The vampire leaned forward in his chair, still smiling. His hands rested on his knees, and the firelight reflected off his glassy fingernails. The window behind his head looked like a great gloomy halo, the trees bending wildly in the darkness. For a moment, Morgan had the crazy urge to run. As the vampire spoke, rain started to make its music against the window. ‘Now Mister Cartwright,’ Argyle whispered in his muted, threatening tones. ‘I want you to write me a story.’

Ilasir Maroa · 03-24-2008, 08:20 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Mr Abattoir

oh yeah, and here's the rewritten version

IMMORTALITY STORY.
His eyes were the colour of a blood-drenched sunset. They were clear and bright, burning with a feral yet graceful intelligence. It was like he knew things no one was supposed to know. Those eyes held secrets, Morgan thought. In any other circumstances he probably would have sat the man down and picked his brain. But unfortunately for Morgan, these weren’t any other circumstances.
‘You’re sweating,’ said the man, his voice as low as the dangerous murmurings of thunderheads. The lamplight reflecting off his waxen skin made him look like a ghost. ‘Try to stop it. I don’t like the smell of sweat.’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Morgan mumbled. He wiped his palms along his pants, his hands shaking slightly. He didn’t think he could stop sweating, at least not until he stopped being terrified out of his mind. And that was certainly not going to happen as long as this . . . man continued to stand here in his house.
‘Wh-what’s your name?’ he asked.
The man smiled widely, revealing extremely white teeth with elegantly elongated canines. They glinted coldly in the light. ‘That’s good. You want to know about me, you want to learn.’ Those piercing eyes never once left Morgan’s. ‘You can call me Argyle.’
It took a moment for the name to sink in. It was a strange name, Morgan thought. A strange name for a strange man.
The cold was soaking into his bones, making his arms and legs and back ache. He had thought he was going to have an early night tonight. He’d been looking forward all day to crawling into his warm bed with a good book for an hour or so, and then drifting off into a dreamy sleep.
The man – or the vampire, as Morgan was now coming to think of him – shifted slightly in his chair. He was sitting opposite Morgan, and they were both situated in front of the vast window. It was night outside, and the howling wind played havoc with the trees. It was an eerie sound, but Morgan usually liked it. This night, his attention was diverted to other things.I'm still not liking this section here. It's a bit jarring the way the story jumps to relative locations around the window. I'll try a rephrasing to make my troubles more clear: "The man - or the vampire, as Morgan ws coming to see him - shifted slightly in his chair opposite Morgan. The wind was playing havoc with the trees outside the window. It was an eerie sound, but Morgan ususally enjoyed it. Tonight, his attention was on something far less enjoyable." I broke up one of the sentences, because "in his chair. He was sitting opposite Morgan" sounds exactly like the blatant plant it is, added to sneak in that bit of characterization with the window and the wind. And of course, "diverted" sounds like you pulled it out of a thesaurus. It doesn't really fit the language you've been using up to this point, IMO.
They had been sitting in silence for a few minutes, listening to the wind and thinking their own thoughts. It's not "silence" if they can here the wind. I know what you were going for, but not only is it a bit cliche, it'scontradicted by the fact that they're listening to something. If you had said, "they both sat quietly" or "they both sat silently" then that would have worked, and even might have possibly tied into "the wind".
‘I like your stories.’ Argyle said.
‘I don’t write,’ Morgan replied, not even thinking about itI see you're trying to make this response seem automatic, like he's not actually trying to decieve the vampire... but something about it bother me... not sure what, sorry. , ‘I’m in corporate accounts.’
Argyle threw his hands up into the air, smiling his sharppuns? must you? smile. ‘Well of course! I’m very sorry; I’ve made a grave mistake. There must be another"some other" would give this more force I think, but "another" works okay. Morgan Cartwright who is so good at his job – which may or may not be corporate accounts – that he spends his copious amounts of spare time writing stories.How is Morgan's prowess related to the time he can spend writing? Does he get his work done quickly? How exactly is his work scheduled? Is he in business on his own? Does he have a boss who watches what he does with his time? Sorry again sir, I’ll just be going.’
But he didn’t move from his seat. He lowered his hands and rested them on his lap. Argyle smiled and cocked his head, continuing to bore large holes into Morgan’s face with those piercing eyes. Morgan looked away after a few seconds.Taking this further, is it necessary to mention the time at it took at all? If it's just a few seconds, would "Morgan looked away" not cover it? The vampire didn’t. I get the point of this sentence, but whenever I read it, I'm left thinking "Thank you, Captain Obvious!" If Morgan looked away, the other person probably didn't, unless he was so amused with himself he couldn't keep from laughing.
‘That’s right; I am a vampire. It’s nice to meet you. Now, can you help me or not?’
‘I – I don’t . . . I don’t know what you want me to help you with. What would you –’
Argyle held up an indexmaybe drop "index", since that's the generally accepted finger to ask for silence, and you've dropped the decription anyway. finger to silence him. ‘The thing is, I like to read. I’ve always wanted to write a book, too, but I’m not much of a writer. You, however, are.’
‘But how could you possibly know that?’ Morgan was bewildered.
Argyle only smiled. ‘You mean how could I possibly know anything about you, such as the fact that you wrote your first story when you were twelve about a toy rabbit that murders its little-girl owner and her family? Or that you’re bored with your job, but so good at it that you don’t think there’s any point in quitting and starting all over again? That is one question which I will not answer. At least not yet.’Hello, author tease. I've been guilty of this myself with some characters. It's already clear that this vampire has secret sources, so some people would call this "indulgent" writing. I just call it "cruel". It's not fair for the all-knowing author to pop into the story and drop hints on the poor bewildered reader.
Morgan said nothing. How could this man, how could anybody know any of that? Who was he? Who was this creature?Um... a vampire, I believe. My point being that I thought you said Argyle was the melodramatic character, and yet here's Morgan getting into the act. A simple facial expression could imply ths line of thought without making it so blatant.
Argyle responded with silence. That trance-like smile remained on his face, his eyes gleaming in the light. Outside, the wind continued to howl. Now, this time, this sentence fits, holding onto the continuity of the narrative.
After a minute, Morgan couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘what do you want from me?’
For the first time, Argyle frowned. ‘Dear dear, you make it sound as though I’m holding you against your will, that I’m . . . threatening you.’ his frown deepenedif you cut the tag right there, the extra thinking will be clearly implied. and he thought for a moment. ‘Well, I suppose I am holding you against your will. But there’s nothing we can do about that. As for threats . . .’ he seemed to stretch in the chair, his body elongating as he opened his mouth in a wide, crazy yawn. ‘I’m not adverse to that, if I should have to. But I’m sure we can keep it all polite.’ Can you yawn and talk at the same time? Perhaps, but it's tough for me.
‘Okay,’ Morgan replied dumbly.
Argyle’s smile returned. ‘But you still want to know what I want, don’t you?’
Morgan nodded.
‘I’ve lived for most of forever, and I have almost everything that there is to have. But there’s one thing that I don’t have, and that’s a story. Sorry, let me rephrase that. I have a story, but it’s my own, and I know it already. I like to read, as I said. I’ve probably read every book you could think of. But I want one that’s mine, one that belongs to me. I want a story other than my own, about . . . anything, as long as I like it.Okay, this is confusing. He has a story that is his own, but he wants one cbecause he doesn't have one. Also, you jump from having a story to liking to read. I think that you could make this a lot smoother and more clear by dropping "but it's my own" and adding a sentence about Argyle wanting his own story before he goes back to talking about reading. Do you understand?’ his eyes were wide now, the whites shining like pearls in the dark. Pearls don't shine in the dark. Which reminds me, there's a lot of shining involved here. I've been assuming there are lights on, and I think you've said so. So where is this "dark" coming from?
‘I . . . think so,’ said Morgan. In truth, he wasn’t entirely sure that he did. Argyle noticed this.Now that's just obnoxious. If ou're going to have him be that perceptive, give a realistic reason for this occurrance: tone of voice, facial expression... something.
‘What I mean is, I want to own a story. I want someone – you – to write a story specifically for me. I don’t know what I want it to be about yet; you’re the writer, after all. But I want it to be mine. Just mine. I want to be the first person"able" would make this a lot smoother and less confusing. to say, “I own this story. It’s mine and it was written just for me.” But I don’t mean it in the same way that people dedicate books to their loved ones. That’s just a passing formality. No, I want a story, I want a fiction. And I want it to be mine.’
This was crazy. This was insane. It was totally beyond Morgan’s comprehension. Here he was, a prisoner in his own house at the hands of a vampire, no less: an immortal, bloodsucking creature of myth that, it turned out, was as real as he was. And this vampire, this creature, wanted him – Morgan Cartwright, who worked in corporate accounts for a living and wrote stories as a hobby more than anything (he would never have even considered getting published) – to write a story specifically for him. He would have fainted if he wasn’t"hadn't been"? so scared that the vampire would drink his blood. What a night he was having.
At last he managed to find his voice. He cleared his throat.this seems redundant. try having him do one or the other and see if that still sounds good. ‘But . . . why me? Surely, surely you could get any other famous writer to do this. I’m no one. I doodle out stories in my spare time, and I don’t think I’m particularly good at it. I don’t understand.’
There was a twinkle in Argyle’s eyeis there a less cliche way to phrase that?, as if he had been waiting for this question. ‘Why you? I’ll tell you why: because you are fresh. You don’t carry the weight of it as a career. It isn’t everything you think about. It’s something you do in your spare time, as a hobby. And I like that. You’re not conceited about it. You’re honest, and modest, and quiet. Nobody actually knows what you do in your spare time. It’s a secret for you; it’s like a little treasure that you keep hidden away out of the light. This is what has drawn me to you. To me, you are more precious than Byron or Hemmingway or . . . anybody, because you keep it to yourself.’
Morgan didn’t know what to say. He guessed that he didn’t have any choice. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad; it was only a story after all.
‘Alright. I’ll do it.’ He tried to smile, but it came out a little more sour than he had intended.
Argyle looked ebullientumm... did you come up with that word offf the top of your head?. ‘Excellent.’
Just then Morgan thought of something. It wasn’t something he would normally have thought of, because he was not a greedy man, but he figured that in this instance it was alright to ask. ‘I don’t suppose . . . I . . . I mean, is there anything in it for me, by any chance?’ heyou can't "look" a snetence at someone, so you should probably capitalize "He" to avoid confusion. looked nervously at the vampire, immediately wishing that he hadn’t said anything.
But Argyle merely smiled his unsurprised smile. ‘I thought you’d never bring that up. Of course, when this is done, you can have anything you want. Anything within my power to give, obviously. But not until then, not until I have what I want.’
‘Oh. Th-thank you.’
The vampire leaned forward in his chair, still smiling. His hands rested on his knees, and the firelight reflected off his glassy fingernails. The window behind his head looked like a great gloomy halomuch better, the trees bending wildly in the darkness. For a moment, Morgan had the crazy urge to run. As the vampire spoke, rain started to make its music against the window. ‘Now Mister Cartwright,’ Argyle whispered in his muted, threatening tones. ‘I want you to write me a story.’Now this makes sense. He wants him to start now.

This version was much better. The imagery was more subtle and it sounded more natural.

My main question here is on perspective. This is third person, obvously, but is it "omniscient(sp)" or "limited"? It would be easier to discuss imagery and Morgan's perspective and interpretation of events if I knew.

Mr Abattoir · 03-25-2008, 10:42 PM

More excellent points, thanks. I’ve rewritten it a little more carefully this time, and I think it’s a lot better than both previous versions. I have that really big problem where I tell instead of show the reader what’s going on, or I do both when only one is necessary. It’s a hard habit to get out of, and something I don’t even realise I’ve done it.
Here’s some feedback about some of your advice:

I'm still not liking this section here. It's a bit jarring the way the story jumps to relative locations around the window. I'll try a rephrasing to make my troubles more clear: "The man - or the vampire, as Morgan ws coming to see him - shifted slightly in his chair opposite Morgan. The wind was playing havoc with the trees outside the window. It was an eerie sound, but Morgan ususally enjoyed it. Tonight, his attention was on something far less enjoyable." I broke up one of the sentences, because "in his chair. He was sitting opposite Morgan" sounds exactly like the blatant plant it is, added to sneak in that bit of characterization with the window and the wind. And of course, "diverted" sounds like you pulled it out of a thesaurus. It doesn't really fit the language you've been using up to this point, IMO.
I like your suggestion, but there’s one bit where you said “or the vampire, as Morgan was coming to think of him – shifted slightly in his chair opposite Morgan.” This sounds wrong because Morgan’s name is mentioned twice, and it seems to jar the reader, or something. It just doesn’t sound right, so I changed it a little. Tell me what you think. Does the new version sound clearer?

‘I don’t write,’ Morgan replied, not even thinking about itI see you're trying to make this response seem automatic, like he's not actually trying to decieve the vampire... but something about it bother me... not sure what, sorry. , ‘I’m in corporate accounts.’
Yeah I see what you mean. It doesn’t seem to flow very well. I was debating whether to just have it as ‘Morgan replied’ but I ended up having a variation of the original.

who is so good at his job – which may or may not be corporate accounts – that he spends his copious amounts of spare time writing stories.How is Morgan's prowess related to the time he can spend writing? Does he get his work done quickly? How exactly is his work scheduled? Is he in business on his own? Does he have a boss who watches what he does with his time?
I’d initially thought about adding more information here, but it would have come out sounding too clunky for the point I was putting across. In answer to your questions, he gets all his work done so quickly that he always has some spare time. Not sure how his work is scheduled, hadn’t really thought about it in that much depth. And he does have a boss, but he’s still pretty far up the food chain so he isn’t really monitored all that much. Plus he does everything he has to so there isn’t that much of a need to watch him.

At least not yet.’Hello, author tease. I've been guilty of this myself with some characters. It's already clear that this vampire has secret sources, so some people would call this "indulgent" writing. I just call it "cruel". It's not fair for the all-knowing author to pop into the story and drop hints on the poor bewildered reader.
I actually don’t know where any of this is going myself. And it’s meant more as a promise to Morgan than something for the audience to ponder over. So far it seems like there isn’t anything in this deal for Morgan, and in keeping with the Argyle’s sense of etiquette, we can hopefully assume that he’ll give Morgan something for his troubles in the end. So it’s almost like he’s bribing him with the promise of secrets. I also had an idea that if I were to expand on this story, that Argyle might tell his story to Morgan as a kind of trade-off. But this is probably way too much like interview with a vampire, so I’m not sure. Just a thought.

Who was this creature?Um... a vampire, I believe. My point being that I thought you said Argyle was the melodramatic character, and yet here's Morgan getting into the act.A simple facial expression could imply ths line of thought without making it so blatant.
Good point. I changed this, like you suggested, into an expression with a little hint at what he’s thinking. Not sure if it sounds perfect yet though. Let me know.

Can you yawn and talk at the same time? Perhaps, but it's tough for me.
Well he’s not doing them at the same time. He yawns and then he starts talking. It’s not really a yawn, more of a stretch of the mouth. I did change it from the original slightly though, so it flows a little better. Either that or it just makes it too clunky, I can’t decide.

Okay, this is confusing. He has a story that is his own, but he wants one cbecause he doesn't have one. Also, you jump from having a story to liking to read. I think that you could make this a lot smoother and more clear by dropping "but it's my own" and adding a sentence about Argyle wanting his own story before he goes back to talking about reading.
Another great point. I had to pretty much rewrite this part, I really wasn’t being clear about what Argyle wanted. I hope it’s better now, I hope the point’s been put across fully. Also, I got rid of the bit about the pearls.

‘I . . . think so,’ said Morgan. In truth, he wasn’t entirely sure that he did. Argyle noticed this.Now that's just obnoxious. If ou're going to have him be that perceptive, give a realistic reason for this occurrance: tone of voice, facial expression... something.
He’s a vampire, he can be as perceptive as he wants without having a reason. Also, I don’t want to give an explanation for everything that he does; it’s good to leave some things unknown.

Argyle looked ebullientumm... did you come up with that word offf the top of your head?.
Haha. Yes, actually.

As to your question of perspective, it’s limited. This is why we don’t know everything about the vampire, and some questions go unanswered.
i'll post the third version straight after this...