Thread: The Kin of Cain, Excerpt #1

Hi all, I feel a tad pushy to post something of mine so soon, but I'd really love to see what you think of this little excerpt of my recently completed novel. I'm aware that it isn't the most ingenious of pieces; it was just something I had lying around that I've been reviewing, but I think it has a certain appeal. Enjoy!
(I'm having a little trouble keeping it formatted when pasting it up onto the forums - indenting and such- so if you could also give me a hand there it would be much appreciated)



The old man awoke sluggishly in the dirt, shuddering uncontrollably. His vision became fixed and then blurred for a while. His arm lay stretched out before his eyes, the hand crushed and bent. He wanted to shout out in pain but any noise that he made only exacerbated the striking agony that flowed from his ribs. He tried to breathe, but his chest only fluttered weakly, and it was only when he sucked with all of his might that a trickle of air entered his lungs.
Behind him, somewhere in the silver woodland, voices chattered excitedly. Slumped against the silt of the streambed, he could only remain still and listen to them whilst he laboriously sucked precious air into his lungs. Each breath was sacred now, as satisfying as water in a desert, but he was dimly aware that he was tiring quickly.
After listening for only moments he realised that the voices were arguing, fierce and vehement, and they were drawing steadily closer.
“Idiots!” one of the voices said. “What did you think that you were doing?”
The female voice, the one that he had heard before, spoke up in snivelling tones. “We was just looking for some food, is all,” she said. “But they went and tried to fight, didn’t they?”
There was a shaking and a series of clatters, and the old man was sure that one of his bags had been emptied onto the floor. “Well, there isn’t any food, now, is there?” the voice shouted. “Where’ve the other ones gone?”
“They ran a while ago, we can’t find them.”
“Fine then, where’s your weapon? Give it to me, you can’t be trusted.”
Even from the ground, the old man heard the uncomfortable silence and the hesitant footsteps of the people around her. The feminine voice spoke again, low and murmuring.
“We don’t have one,” she said.
A moment later there was a slapping noise and the woman cried out in pain.
“So what you’ve done is run off in the middle of the night, no lights, no protection, and then you attacked a bunch of people for breadcrumbs? And then you let them get away!”
“We weren’t looking for trouble; we just come across them, like.”
“So you thought you’d try and kill them anyway?”
“What’s your problem? We kills people all the time, right next to you.”
“It’s not the killing, it’s you being stupid is what’s wrong. You know how careful we have to be right now, what if they were from the city?”
“They weren’t, they were just three people camping out, like, I swear.”
The old man sucked hard on the air, but by now his lungs ached horribly from the effort, and so he turned over onto his back to ease his aching ribs. Behind him, somewhere, the strangers grew closer and he felt eyes upon him.
“What happened to this one?” the voice said.
“Pushed us down the bloody hill, didn’t he?” the woman said venomously.
“A fall down that hill wouldn’t do that to someone.”
“Well, we might’ve helped him along a little bit. Although, he looks miserable, don’t he? Making me feel a bit sick, just looking at him. I suppose we should put him out of his misery before I get queasy.”
The old man was looking skywards now, and through the silver haze of moonlight he could see the rocky outcrop, high above, but where Don and Billy had been before, there was only the lip of the hill. Shuddering and breathless, the old man smiled a bloodied smile.
A set of footsteps wiped it clean from his face in an instant, and then the moonlight was cut away by a figure standing above him, which crouched down beside him and looked him up and down.
It was a man, lean faced and unshaven. Held loosely in his hands was a long and curved knife, which he twirled in his grip with a frightening dexterity. He observed the old man curiously, his head tilted to the side, almost child like in his mannerisms. But behind the simplicity, the old man could see that his eyes were empty and cold, wide and staring.
“What’s your name?” he said.
The old man was quiet, unsure of whether he could have spoken even if he’d wanted to. Under the man’s cold stare, he continued to lie on his back and stare at the moon, smiling gently at the thought of Don’s escape, whilst he slowly lost consciousness due to lack of air.
“Get rid of him, quietly if you can,” said the man, standing up and moving out of sight. “Here, take this.”
The old man shuddered at the sensation of a cold gun barrel being pressed against the nape of his neck, and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the end.
“Sorry mate,” the woman said from behind him.
“Who’s there?” roared a distant voice.
Despite merely being privy to a view of the sky, the old man sensed the fear of the people around him. The strangers were still and quiet in an instant, and he was sure that they had crouched low to the ground, adopting the same cat like stances that he had assumed at the top of the hill.
“What was that?” the woman uttered.
“Shut up,” the man answered.
In the following silence, the old man knew that they were throwing looks all around them, cowering in the grass.
The light of the forest flickered now and had lost a degree of its silver glow, now intermingled with it was a slight orange tinge. With it, came the sound of a voice, booming away somewhere out of sight.
“Who goes?” the new voice roared again. “Show yourselves!”
“We can’t be seen!” the woman hissed.
“I know,” said the man.
“What do we do?”
“Let’s go, quickly.”
“What about the old boy?” the woman asked fleetingly, and the old man felt the barrel of the gun pressed against his neck once more.
“Leave him.”
“What?”
“We’ll deal with it later, let’s go!”
And as the old man shook from the effort of drawing the merest of breaths, the people fled into the woods, leaving him to lie there on the floor, alone. For a long time, he could only listen to their retreating footsteps and then to the lone newcomer as he slowly made his way through the forest.
“Who goes?” he would roar occasionally.
The old man tried to answer, but all that he could manage was a feeble whisper. The moon above grew dimmer with time and soon he could hear nothing but a dull mumble. His chest felt crushed and insurmountable was every breath. His lungs begged for air, but he could do nothing to quicken the pace of his laborious inhalations and he was certain that he would be unable to move at all very shortly.
The night continued to blur, and somewhere beyond the figure which had crouched beside him, he thought of Billy and Donald, and from the back of his mind came the sounds of Twinkle twinkle little star.

“Then the traveller in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.”

Just to make sure I understand, at the end, did he decide to start moving himself towards the mysterious traveler that happened to save his life?

Very interesting dialogue, I am left completely in the dark as to the specific details of your world though. It makes it hard to understand the actions of the character's sometimes. Like, why the people who where hiding in the grass, next to the dying man, didn't want to be seen. I'm sure it's just because I don't know the specifics of your world. But maybe you could have given us more of a hint. I know this is an excerpt, so that's probably why, just the only thing I could think to complain about in your story.

I understand that it'd be fairly difficult to follow, it's a partial of a chapter. The old man in fact passed out; the rhyme came into his head because he was looking at the sky when he blacked out. I'll most likely be posting more if this goes down alright, so next time I'll be sure to limit the confusion.

Thanks for reading.

The old man awoke sluggishly in the dirt,shuddering uncontrollably. (You confuse the image, sluggish and shuddering uncontrollably, conflict. Consider also, two adverbs in the first 10 words –not good– in my opinion you could lose both.) His vision became fixed and thenblurred for a while. His arm lay stretched out before his eyes, the handcrushed and bent. He wanted to shout out in pain but any noise that he madeonly exacerbated the striking agony that flowed from his ribs. He tried tobreathe, but his chest only fluttered weakly, and it was only when he suckedwith all of his might that a trickle (trickle describes a liquid not a gas) of air entered his lungs.
Behind him, somewhere in the silver woodland, voices chattered excitedly. Slumped against the siltof the streambed, he could only remain still and listen to them whilst he laboriouslysucked precious air into his lungs. Each breath was sacred now, as satisfying as water in a desert,but he was dimly aware that he wastiring quickly.

After listening for only moments he realised that the voices were arguing,fierce and vehement, and they were drawing steadilycloser. ( Consider dropping all of the adverbs, save one if you must.)
“Idiots!” one of the voices said. “What did you think that you were doing?”
The female voice, the one that he had heard before, spoke up in snivellingtones. “We was just looking for some food, is all,” she said. “But they wentand tried to fight, didn’t they?”
There was a shaking and a series of clatters, and the old man was sure that oneof his bags had been emptied onto the floor. “Well, there isn’t any food, now,is there?” the voice shouted. “Where’ve the other ones gone?”
“They ran a while ago, we can’t find them.”
“Fine then, where’s your weapon? Give it to me, you can’t be trusted.”
Even from the ground,the old man heard the uncomfortable silence and the hesitant footsteps ofthe people around her. (It’s unclear to the reader why thefootsteps should be hesitant?) The feminine voice spokeagain, low and murmuring. (You say earlier they werearguing, ‘fierce and vehement’ – it seems the ‘voice’ is obviously in command,no other is protesting!)
“We don’t have one,” she said.
A moment later there was a slapping noise and the woman cried out in pain.
“So what you’ve done is run off in the middle of the night, no lights, noprotection, and then you attacked a bunch of people for breadcrumbs? And thenyou let them get away!”
“We weren’t looking for trouble; we just come across them, like.”
“So you thought you’d try and kill them anyway?”
“What’s your problem? We kills people all the time, right next to you.” (needs a dialogue tag – her tone is too similar to the ‘voice’)
“It’s not the killing, it’s you being stupid is what’swrong. You know how careful we have to be right now, what if they were from thecity?”
“They weren’t, they were just three people camping out, like, I swear.”
The old man sucked hard on the air, but by now his lungs ached horribly fromthe effort, and so he turned over onto his back to ease his aching ribs. Behindhim, somewhere, the strangers grew closer and he felt eyes upon him.
“What happened to this one?” the voice said.
“Pushed us (EH! Is this dialect? In which case adjust – it forced a re-read) down the bloody hill, didn’t he?” the woman said venomously. (consider omitting, the ‘venom’ is in the dialogue.)
“A fall down that hill wouldn’t do that to someone.”
“Well, we might’ve helped him along a little bit. Although, he looks miserable,don’t he? Making me feel a bit sick, just looking at him. I suppose we shouldput him out of his misery before I get queasy.”
The old man was looking skywards now, and through the silver haze of moonlighthe could see the rocky outcrop, high above, but (Why 'but’?) where Don and Billy had been before, there was only the lip of the hill. Shuddering and breathless, (consider omitting – we know this.)theold man smiled a bloodied smile.
A set of footsteps wiped it clean from his face in an instant, and then (consider replacing with -‘as’)the moonlight wascut away by a figure standing above him, which crouched down beside him andlooked him up and down.
It was a man, lean faced and unshaven. Held loosely in his hands was a long andcurved knife, which he twirled in his grip with a frightening dexterity. Heobserved the old man curiously, (consider omitting it’s described in the narration) his head tilted to the side, almost child like in hismannerisms (Consider replacing with a simile –‘like achild watching a spider/kitten etc..). But behind the simplicity, the old man could see that his eyes were empty and cold, wide andstaring.
“What’s your name?” he said.
The old man was quiet, unsure of whether he could have spoken even if he’dwanted to. Under the man’s cold(repetition omit or replace) stare, he continued to lieon his back and stare(repetition, replace) at the moon, smiling gently at the thought of Don’s escape, whilst he slowly lost consciousness due to lack of air.
“Get rid of him, quietly(Three adverbs in one sentence– consider losing at least two.) if you can,” said the man,standing up and moving out of sight. “Here, take this.”
The old man shuddered (third use of shuddered - consider analternative) atthe sensation of a cold gun barrel being pressed against the nape of his neck,and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the end.
“Sorry mate,” the woman said from behind him.
“Who’s there?” roared a distant voice.
Despite merely being privy to a view of the sky, the old man sensed the fear ofthe people around him. The strangers were still and quiet in an instant, and hewas sure that they had crouched low to the ground, adopting the same cat likestances that he had assumed at the top of the hill. The old man does a lot of sensing, earlier he senses ‘eyes upon him’ and now all this sensing –I think an omniscient narrator might be better used rather than a continual Old manPOV)
“What was that?” the woman uttered.
“Shut up,” the man answered.
In the following silence, the old man knew (see what I mean?) that they were throwing looks all aroundthem, cowering in the grass.
The light of the forest flickered now and had lost a degree of its silver glow, now (two 'nows') intermingled with it was a slight orange tinge. With it, (two ‘with its?) came the sound of a voice, boomingaway somewhere out of sight.
“Who goes?” the new voice roared again. “Show yourselves!”
“We can’t be seen!” the woman hissed.
“I know,” said the man. (I think the reader and thewriter would be helped if at some time the female and the man called each otherby name, and the Old man took this up in the POV narration.)
“What do we do?”
“Let’s go, quickly.”
“What about the old boy?” the woman asked fleetingly, and the old man felt thebarrel of the gun pressed against his neck once more.
“Leave him.”
“What?”
“We’ll deal with it later, let’s go!”
And as the old man shook from the effort of drawing the merest of breaths, thepeople fled into the woods, leaving him to lie there on the floor, alone. For along time, he could only listen to their retreating footsteps and then to thelone newcomer as he slowly made his way through the forest.
“Who goes?” he would roar occasionally.
The old man tried to answer, but all that he could manage was a feeble whisper.The moon above grew dimmer with time and soon he couldhear nothing but a dull mumble. His chest felt crushed and insurmountable wasevery breath. His lungs begged for air, but he could do nothing to quicken thepace of his laborious inhalations and he was certain that he would be unable tomove at all very shortly. (consider spending more time on this paragraph it doesn’t read well and is very repetitious – it doesn’texplain what the ‘new voice’ is doing – and doesn’t progress the story.)
The night continued to blur,(repetitious)and somewhere beyond the figure which had crouched besidehim, he thought of Billy and Donald, and from the back of his mind came thesounds of Twinkle twinkle little star.

“Then the traveller in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.”



IMO, (and that’s all it is) this needs a lot of work. If you change the narrator and name the antagonists I think you will find it easier going.

Good luck with it.

qwerty

Some good points there, I missed a lot of that repetition. Can't say that I agree with your opinion of the POV, most probably because this is an excerpt, and I find writing lacking in adverbs to be incredibly annoying and dry so I tend to embellish a tad too much for some. I'm glad that you stuck with it and I appreciate your input though.

Originally Posted by qwertyman

(trickle describes a liquid not a gas)

Liquids and gases are both fluids and therefore obey the same mechanical laws...gases can trickle.