tekp

I did this for some english homework in like 10 mins, what do you guys think?



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Sam was sure he had heard a noise. The more he tried to ignore it, the more he told himself it was nothing, the more convinced her became there was something or someone downstairs.
He slid back down under the covers and pulled them up to his nose. It was nothing, he reassured himself, he would fall asleep soon and wake up and it’d be a normal day with normal people and he’d be safe. The sun would shine through his blinded windows and his room, and the whole house, would be warmed with heat and his parents would come in and wake him. Even though he couldn’t see them, their touch was the most comforting thing that could happen to him right now.
There it was again.
He closed his eyes tight – not that it made a difference, he was still blind. It was nothing. Nothing.
But it was something: he knew it. Deep in the back of his mind he knew someone or something was downstairs. He saw them now, in front of his face. They were creeping through the lounge to the foot of the stairs, a long, serrated hunting knife clutched in their black gloved hand – ready to move silently up the stairs like a cat to a mouse, opening his door slowly and stealthily, slithering inside unnoticed, rising up at the foot of his bed, raising the knife and… and…
“No!” Sam sat upright in his bed, his sweating fingers grasping the sheets as if they were the last bars of chocolate on earth.
He felt the familiar presence of the quilt over him and his room around him.
A dream. It had all been a dream.
Terror turned into relief as he lay back down, snuggling under the quilt. A dream. He was safe. He was fine. He smiled. Both of his two senses drifted off into slumber. Both except his hearing, which was startled back into consciousness at the third emitting sound from downstairs, slicing up the stairs, under his door and into his mind.
He had to find out what it was. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep if he didn’t, sleep he really needed for a test tomorrow.
He crawled out of bed and slipped on some jeans hanging over his desk chair, buttoning them up and heading silently for the door. He thought about all his belongings as he went, noting their exact position in case anything will have been stolen; he especially noted the golden trophy he had won in the Under 16s Tennis Tournament in London a few weeks before that was, even though he couldn’t see it, standing proudly atop his dresser. It was probably worth a couple of thousand pounds.
Before he reached the door, he took his long, mahogany walking-stick (or as he liked to call it, his seeing-stick) from beside the dresser, clutching it in his right hand, reaching out for the door-handle with his left. His clammy fingers slipped as he groped for the cold handle, finally holding it securely and turning. The door opened quietly, and he slipped through – leaving it open behind him.

Silence filled the house like water, and fear swept over it like a whipping gust of wind. His bare feet left wet footprints on the wooden floor as he crept along sightlessly towards what he believed to be the stairs, which led down and down – past the first floor and straight down to the ground one. His house had three storeys, the bedrooms on the top, lounge and study on the second and kitchen and diner on the ground floor – although he had the curse of not being able to see any of it. The stairs behind him stopped midway at the second floor, but they were creaky and old – and so he safely took these stairs. Besides, the noise was coming from the kitchen, he was sure of it.
He was at the top of the stairs now, his stick told him. He reached forward with it and found the banister, holding onto it tightly with his left hand and slowly, slowly making his way down the stairs – darkness filling his vision, and not only because the house was lightless.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. He had heard the noise again, this time it seemed like it was coming from the dining room. He was now in the kitchen.
He winced as his feet touched the cold floor and he edged closer toward the opposite wall, housing the door to the Dining Room. As he did so his mind wandered off around the kitchen. There was nobody in here, nobody behind the huge oak table; the elegant oak chairs, the retro lime fridge or the looming hat stand. There were unseen faces everywhere, staring at him, tormenting him, tormenting his blind eyes. He could not see them, but he knew they were there. Faces on the illuminating green LED display on the oven, the microwave, the fridge, the coffee-maker, the blender, the toaster, the TV, the burglar alarm. The burglar alarm sat there blinking the words ‘OK’ at him mockingly, teasing and deceiving him…
The sound got louder and louder as he crept towards the door, banging and fluttering every few seconds. The wind howled in harmony with the cats outside and the gust batted the French windows harshly.
He finally reached the door. His clammy hands slid around the handle and he turned and pulled it, the door swinging open quickly. He took a deep breath and leapt into the invisible room, his stick flailing in front of him, he was ready to take anybody on. But nothing happened. Nobody lunged at him with a knife or a gun or anything. His ears told him the room was empty, no sound came except the banging, which he instantly recognised.
He sighed, walking carefully over to the window and closing it. Shaking his head to himself Sam went up the second set of stairs and left the darkness downstairs.
He was still smiling at what had happened when he walked along the hallway, past his parent’s room, his sister’s room and the bathroom and to his door. He grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open from its closed position, suddenly realising what he’d done.
All that lay before him was darkness, the terrifying darkness of unknowingness. He knew somebody was there, he could feel them – despite the evidence of the closed door. He tried to cry out, to shout, to breath, at least, but the only thing that came to his lungs was the flying lead bullet shot from the thief’s accomplice, who had stepped out from behind the door.

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magicalempire

Not bad. Not bad at all. =)

Just a few issues I would like to address.

You need to rewrite this, pulling as many unneeded words out as you can find––there are a few––quite a few.

The whole dream thing... This would play out much better if he was awake. Have him see these things through 'His Minds Eye'.

Also, some of your similes don't work very well.

(his sweating fingers grasping the sheets as if they were the last bars of chocolate on earth.) cute––in a children's book.

(Silence filled the house like water) There's just something about this simile that made me laugh––not good.

Another thing that bothered me quite a bit, is the fact that it takes very little time for a person's eyes to adjust to darkness. Is your main character blind? Because I would have been able to see just fine in the dark. None of the rooms would have been 'invisible'. And it's amazing how much light those LEDs give off in absolute darkness. The single green LED on my modem, nearly fills my bedroom at night, casting haunting shadows of ghastly creatures on the walls, making it hard sometimes to sleep.

One last thing. What was it that he recognized making the noise? You kinda forgot to let us know.

Over all it was a good story and the ending works for me. You just need to thinks some things through and do a rewrite.

Keep writing! =)

__________________
Keith A. Katsikas Jr.

FREE Self-Publishing available at
www.northeastgames.com

tekp

Thanks for the comments but, believe it or not, he was blind

It was for an english homework in which we could only use 2 senses - i chose hearing and touch.

Again, thanks for the comments!

[ and the banging window was making the noise in the dining room ]


EDIT: oh, and what 'dream thing'? The whole thing was real, none of it was a dream.

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magicalempire

OK? If he was 'blind', then how were the LEDs visible to him?

As for the Dream. Let me pull it from your story.

He saw them now, in front of his face. They were creeping through the lounge to the foot of the stairs, a long, serrated hunting knife clutched in their black gloved hand – ready to move silently up the stairs like a cat to a mouse, opening his door slowly and stealthily, slithering inside unnoticed, rising up at the foot of his bed, raising the knife and… and…
“No!” Sam sat upright in his bed, his sweating fingers grasping the sheets as if they were the last bars of chocolate on earth.
He felt the familiar presence of the quilt over him and his room around him.
A dream. It had all been a dream.

I understand that something was really happening, but this tells the reader that he drifted off and started ti dream.

This would read better if it were redone.Maybe something like this:

Deep in the back of his mind he knew something was downstairs. He could see them now, in his mind's eye. They were creeping through the lounge to the foot of the stairs, a long, serrated hunting knife clutched in their black gloved hand – ready to move silently up the stairs like a cat to a mouse, opening his door slowly and stealthily, slithering inside unnoticed, rising up at the foot of his bed, raising the knife and… and…
“No!” Sam bolted upright in his bed, his sweating fingers grasping at the sheets like they were a mystical field, shunning off the evil presence.
He had to find out what it was. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep if he didn’t, sleep he really needed for a test tomorrow.

__________________
Keith A. Katsikas Jr.

FREE Self-Publishing available at
www.northeastgames.com

magicalempire

OK. I read the story again. I see now all your references about him being blind. I don't know why I didn't see them the first time. I must have been overly tired. Forgive me. But I as for the rest of my review, it's all good. This could be a pretty good story––and it is––but with a little more work it could be really good. It is a really good example of "Micro-Fiction' or 'Flash-Fiction'.

Keith =)

__________________
Keith A. Katsikas Jr.

FREE Self-Publishing available at
www.northeastgames.com

tekp

thanks for the reply Keith, I never said he saw the LED's, the joys of third person

hence...

And I get your bit about the dream now, and I'll work on it.

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