Midnight (Better or worse?) - Writers Forum

gr8writer · 04-17-2008, 11:52 AM

I redid this quite a bit would like to hear your opinions on all the changes and if they work.

gr8writer

Jogging down the path, worn from many early morning jaunts, I reach down and shut off my phone. The music usually helps but I don't need it this morning. I concentrate on the sensations of the early twilight. A crisp wind curls it's fingers through my short hair as my nostrils take in it's icy freshness. Maybe I should've woken Midnight up, I think absently. My dog dearly loves these outings, the woods are such a wonderful place to explore. That scream in the distance must be the screech owls getting ready for sleep. There is a bark which follows it, from this far away it sounds like Midnight. He must have awoken in my absence and decided to come look for me. I trace my steps for a few yards but I cannot see him. My ears must have been deceiving me, I decide to resume my jog.

The bark is closer now and more insistent, he must be right behind me. I turn to greet him but panic and confusion grip me when the path is empty. I must be losing it, I think as I turn to continue my jog. A dog stands in the path staring me down. It certainly looks like Midnight, except for the injuries. His black fur is dripping with blood. Deep gashes rip into his skin exposing raw nerve. He is the same breed as Midnight, the same size, even has the same collar. "Midnight?" I question looking into his eyes. His response is a single bark.

Something inside me tells me this dog is Midnight, I need to dress his wounds. "What's happened to you boy?" I ask as I reach for his collar. "Let's get you home and clean you up." The dog does not attempt to follow me, instead he bares his bloody teeth and growls. Then without warning, he starts off into the woods. Something in that growl sent a chill down my spine. Still, I am overcome with a powerful urge to follow him. I will always attribute that decision to women's intuition. This dog was not acting like Midnight even though, apart from his wounds, he appeared to be the same dog which I had known for the past seven years.

Midnight has always been gentle and kind, in all our years together he's never growled at me. He only raises his voice when he gets excited while playing a game. He has sat near my feet at work and jogged with me most mornings since he was two. Even though he's big enough to knock down a grown man I've never seen him jump up on anyone. We live alone, our house is bordered by the woods on one side and a small paved road on the other. Most evenings we sit on our porch swing and watch the sunset together.

The dog leads me to a small clearing deep into the woods. A woman lies face down on the ground in a pool of blood, gashes in her left arm and leg. A few feet from her right arm I see it; a dried mesquite branch, it's thorns covered in blood and tufts of black fur. There is a bloody handprint at it's base. I look around the clearing for Midnight but I do not see him. It wasn't him, I tell myself. It couldn't have been! I bend down to the woman and check her pulse, a week throbbing meets my finger. Thank God, I'm not too late.

I don't want to move her too much but I have to get her help. I unclip my multi-function cell phone from my belt and try to dial 911. The call will not go through, no signal here in the woods. I take off my jacket and tear it into strips. A few of them I use to bandage the woman's wounds, the rest to mark a trail back to the road. I place the call again. The operator asks where I am "South River Lane." I respond frantically. "Just send someone, I'll flag him down." Within five minutes I hear the siren in the distance. I close my eyes and will the abulance to travel faster as if my thoughts have the power to speed it up. I have no way of knowing if she is still alive. What if that dog has come back?

I lead the men through the woods to the clearing. The woman looks exactly the same as when I left. The men lift her onto the stretcher as I anxiously look on. "She's very lucky you stumbled upon her," one of the men says kindly. My stomach turns uneasily, I have not told anyone about the dog. I want desparately to go with them, to make sure she's alright but I can't. I have to get home, I have to make sure Midnight is there. I give one of them my name and number. "Please let me know if her condition changes," I beg.

Midnight is not home as I had expected him to be. Part of me already knew that it was no strange dog which had led me to that clearing. I still cannot fully accept this truth. Midnight couldn't do that! I want to scream. No one is listening, at this moment the whole world seems empty to me. I selfishly try to blame the woman, Midnight must have been acting in defense. The evidence will not let me. The bloody handprint I'd seen was proof she'd been attacked first. I cry for the loss of my pet. I scream for the injustice of the world. I wish I'd brought him with me that morning.

I wish Midnight were here, the evidence is piling up against him and I know what has to be done if he is guilty. I will have to turn him in to be tested for rabies. That means they’ll kill him, I flinch. I try to remember if I’d seen him foaming at the mouth or not. Can I really be thinking about turning my own dog over to a certain death? How can I avoid it? If anyone finds out they'll force me to. I have to tell someone but I can't bring myself to do it. It won't do any good anyway, I don't even know where he is. The rest of the day passes in a fog.

I look at my clock, it reads 7:30; I need to be at work in a half an hour. I shake my head as the events of yesterday sweep through my mind, I cannot go. I decide to call in sick. I reassure myself that I really am sick, my ailments are simply not physical. Midnight had not returned last night as I thought he might. I even left the door open for him in case he got back while I was asleep. I lay down in bed but sleep alludes me. I keep hearing that ear piercing scream, it gets louder and louder every time I hear it. I keep seeing that poor woman laying there so helpless, covered with blood, every time I close my eyes. I search the woods, calling his name, for what seems like an eternity. He doesn't want to be found. I cannot eat, I cannot sit still. I can do nothing but wait by the phone watching the door. It gets dark out, I lay down but again sleep will not find me. I try to read a book, the words are a blur. I flick on the T.V. dog food commericals seem to be on every channel then I find the news. "Still no sign of the animal, believed to be a large dog or cat, which attacked and injured 30 year old wife and mother Toni Smith yesterday morning leaving her in critical condition..." I turn it off and give an unwilling shudder.

The night has turned into daylight and I hear the phone ring. I look at it uncertainly, it may be the hospital. Slowly I bring the receiver to my ear, it's my boss. She asks after my health and I assure her I'll be better in a few days. She asks about Midnight and I lie "He's asleep right now but he's doing just fine." I hope I sounded convincing, I cannot bear the thought of her coming here. When I get off the phone I put my head in my hands and cry. It has been many years since I have wept so stormily. When my tears are all dried up and I cannot cry anymore I fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion. I find myself immediately back in those woods staring at Toni Smith trying to fight him off. I try to run to her but I realize that I cannot move. He is bending over her like a lion after the kill, suddenly he turns and looks directly at me. "I did it!" he laughs, something evil in his voice. "I did it Lizzy, I tried to kill her."

"You're not my dog!" I shout at him. "You're not Midnight!" I come back to reality with a jolt. Sweat is dripping down my face and pooling in my cleavage. I try to stand but my knees give way. My whole body trembles with a combination of hunger and fright. I have not eaten a bite since that morning, every time I try a lump comes into my throat and I put the food down. As soon as I find the strength, I search the woods again. Part of me hopes I will find Midnight safe, part of me hopes I will not find him at all.

I don't know what to do when I see Midnight come in with the dawn. I want to cry or laugh or something but I just sit there. His injuries match my memory of them. The part of me which has been fighting for his innocence gives in as I read the collar he's still wearing. "Midnight; owner Elizabeth Parker 125 South River Ln." He just curls on the porch and falls asleep. I am so glad to have him back but my conscience won't let me rejoice. You know what has to be done! The voice hisses without compassion.

Midnight seems distant, perhaps because of his injuries, perhaps because of his guilt. I get out the phone book and look up animal control. I stare at the page for a long time. Can I even do this? This woman could die if I don't, Midnight could hurt someone else. I close my eyes and pray. Lord give me strength, help me to do the right thing.

I pick up the phone but my tears blur the numbers on the page. The phone seems to come alive as it vibrates in my hand. Rinnggg, it's shrill cry makes me jump. "May I please speak with Elizabeth Parker?" the voice seems to come from another world.

"This is she, how may I help you?" I respond woodenly, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

"This is Maryville Public Hospital." I close my eyes mentally preparing myself for the worst. "Your friend, Mrs. Smith is conscious..." tears come to my eyes and I almost don't hear the rest "....must speak with you!" I need to see her, maybe it's selfish of me. If I can be sure that she's okay I won't have to tell anyone. Suddenly I realize that even if I don't tell anyone, she might. My heart sinks into oblivion once again.

I secure Midnight with a chain, something I have never done before. I will never forget the look he gave me, as of one betrayed by a close friend. The whole way to the hospital I pray that she doesn't remember. When I see the big H with the arrow I panic and almost miss my turn. What if she knows? Maybe she's seen me jogging with Midnight before.

I walk to the front desk but there's no one there. Critical condition, the news report had said. I navigate my way to ICU. "Toni Smith?" I ask a passing nurse.

"Victim of an animal attack?" she questions. I flinch, hoping she doesn't notice, and nod. The nurse brings me up to date as she leads me to Mrs. Smith’s room. "Toni needs her rest so try not to excite her too much. Her husband hasn't left her bedside since he found out. He told me he reported Toni missing when she didn't come back from her bird watching trip that morning. That’s how she was identified so quickly." I picture Mr. Smith getting the call. My dog did this, it was my fault.

We arrive at her bedside and I am relieved to find that she is alone. It seems Mr. Smith had taken the nurse's advice to "go home and rest" when he found out his wife would live. The nurse introduces us and I get my first good look at the woman my dog mauled.

Toni's face is almost hidden in bandages but I can still tell she is glad to see me. At least that means she doesn't know, for now. "Nice to meet you," she mumbles "I wanted to thank the woman who saved my life." My cheeks grow hot with shame. She thinks I saved her life when it was my fault she was attacked in the first place. I wonder what she would think of me if she knew. Would she hate me? Her words are white noise in my ears until I hear something unusual which makes me wake up and take notice.

"If it hadn't been for you and that dog... I would have been killed."

"W-What dog?" I stammer. Maybe she's delusional, maybe she saw Midnight bring me to her. A million things go through my mind in the course of two seconds as she musters the strength to explain it to me.

"Big black one . . . came just in time too... That panther... would have killed me ... I found this big stick ... tried to protect myself ... just made him madder. All of a sudden... big black dog ... came out of nowhere... he attacks the panther. Fainted... woke up here...," I can tell it's hard for her to get the words out but she continues with resolve "Poor dog . . . probably dead. Wish I could thank him..." Her voice trails off... With each phrase she awakens a memory of that morning. Midnight brought me to her, the stick covered in dark fur and skin, the theory that the attack was done by a large cat or dog.

"You can thank him," I say aloud even though she's drifted off to sleep. I feel ashamed of myself for the way I've thought, the dreams I've had but especially for the way I've treated him. "But not until I apologize." I rush home to Midnight, to unchain him, to treat his wounds and most of all, to ask his forgiveness.

babeonownbike · 04-17-2008, 01:22 PM

I haven't read your original, but this is well done. I saw one typo but now I can't find it!

"Then it rang and I answered it." is bland. If I were contemplating making a phone call and it rang I'd be startled or feel guilty or something. Need some emotion there.

Also, you need to start a new paragraph with each speaker. The example that jumped out (not sure if there are others) is the telephone call I referenced above.

Raging_Hopeful · 04-18-2008, 01:08 AM

Hey gr8writer,

Thanks for the read! It was well written but it was much too passive. It definitely needed more dialogue and it felt a lot like "telling a story" instead of "showing the story." I hope Midnight is okay

Keep writing!

Cheers,
Linz

smilinghelps · 04-19-2008, 10:36 AM

gr8writer,

Good story, needs some tightening up but you've done a good job so far.

The first two or three paragraphs are very passive and you change verb tense a lot. Keep it in the present and try to eliminate as much of the "sure", "I was" and replace them with "expecting" and what you're doing--like "Jogging down the path that I've..."

You've got a nice story with a great twist, with a little more ooomph you'll have a great story.

Industrial · 04-19-2008, 11:03 AM

This kind of let me down. I thought it would be much better from how it starts off. Someone already mentioned that the story seems like your telling it instead of painting the details, I think that would be fine if you kept up with the same pace at it started at, unfortunately the pace slows down and it turns into the opposite of what I thought.

I honestly thought this would be a great horror piece but it ended up being an attempt at an emotional string puller. It turned into something corny for me, in my opinion you overdid the emotional aspect.

I also thought the ending was not a "story with a great twist" but a cliche corny ending that ruined what I thought would be something better.

There are a couple grammar and tense issues.

Not bad though.

smilinghelps · 04-19-2008, 12:04 PM

I guess that's the major difference in a nutshell between men and women. Women like and go for the emotional twists, men think they're corny.

There's a huge market for this so don't fret over someone who doesn't like that it's not horror. That's why there are many genres, stick with what you know.

gr8writer · 04-19-2008, 12:09 PM

thank you for the comments. I wasn't planning on changing the ending to fit Industrial I like the twist. I might want to make it a little stronger. I didn't change the ending as much as I changed to rest of it. So you think I should write the whole story in the present tense? That makes sense. Thank you for your imput, Sam knows what he's talking about.

gr8writer · 04-19-2008, 03:44 PM

I redid it from past tense to present tense now, tell me what you think.

smilinghelps · 04-19-2008, 08:15 PM

I did some work on the beginning of this, they are only suggestions on tightening up some areas. You don't have to do any of what I've changed but it'll show you a little more about making each sentence count, which is really important for a short story.

Quote:

Originally Posted by gr8writer

Jogging down the path, worn from many early morning jaunts, I reach down and shut off my phone. The music usually helps but I don't need it this morning. I concentrate instead(remove this word) on the sensations of the early twilight. A crisp wind winds(wraps) it's fingers through my short hair as my nostrils take in it's icy freshness. Maybe I should've woken Midnight up, I think absently (not necessary). My dog dearly loves these outings, the woods are such a wonderful place to explore. I hardly slow as I hear the scream, sure it's only a screech owl giving his last cry before calling it a night. It is the bark which gives me pause. Is that Midnight's voice in the distance? Sure that he has awoken without me, and decided to follow me this morning, I stop to rest. I walk back past the curve in the path to see if Midnight is on the trail but I see nothing. Sure my ears have deceived me, I continue my jog. (this is still passive—The scream in the distance doesn't even catch my attention, it must be the screech owls getting ready for sleep. It is the barking which gives me pause. Is that Midnight's bark I hear in the distance? Perhaps he had woken to find I wasn't home and decided to follow me this morning. I stop to rest. Retracing my steps I look back around the bend expecting to see Midnight on the trail but he's not there. My mind must be playing tricks on me, I think as I continue to jog.There is an insistence in the bark so unusual for Midnight. I turn to greet him sure he is yards away but again I see nothing. It's only after I confusedly decide to continue my jog that I see him. He stands in front of me blocking my path and staring me down. Blood mats his black fur down around the deep wounds which rip into his flesh. I can't resign myself that this is Midnight. Again I hear the barking right behind me, this time it's more insistent with low growling. I turn expecting to see him but again he's not there. Laughing at myself, I begin on my jog again and look up and see Midnight standing in front of me blocking my path and staring me down. His fir is matted and wet and I notice deep wounds which rip into his flesh. My heart races as I try to determine if this is my dog that I'm looking at or a wild dog who happens to look like him. He is the same breed as Midnight, the same size, even has the same collar. "Midnight?" I question looking into his eyes. His response is a single bark.

Something inside me tells me this dog is Midnight, I need to dress his wounds. "What's happened to you boy?" I question as I reach for his collar. "Let's get you home and clean you up." The dog does not attempt to follow me, instead he bares his bloody teeth and growls. Then, without warning, he starts off into the woods. Something in that growl sent a chill down my spine. Still, I am overcome with a powerful urge to follow him. I will always attribute that decision to women's intuition. This dog was not acting like Midnight even though, apart from his wounds, he appeared to be the same dog which I had known for the past 7(write out your numbers) years.

Midnight has been gentle and kind, in 7 (all our years together) you don't need to repeat 7 he's never growled at me. He only raised (s) his voice when he got (gets) excited from (while) playing a game. He sat at my feet at work and jogged with me most mornings since he was 2. Even though he was big enough to knock down a grown man I've never seen him jump up on anyone. We live alone, our house bordered by the woods on one side and a small paved road on the other. Most evenings we sit on our porch swing and watch the sunset together. It's not an exciting life, but I like it. (not necessary, weak sentence)

The dog leads me to a small clearing deep into the woods. A woman lay face down on the ground in a pool of blood, gashes in her left arm and leg. A few feet from her right arm I see it, a dried mesquite branch it's thorns covered in blood and tufts of black fur. There is a bloody handprint at it's base. I look around the clearing for Midnight but I do not see him. It wasn't him, I tell myself. It couldn't have been! I bend down to the woman and check her pulse, a week throbbing meets my finger. Thank God, I wasn't too late.

I don't want to move her too much but I have to get her help. I unclip my multi-function cell phone from my belt and tried to dial 911. The call will not go through, no signal here in the woods. I take off my jacket and tear it into strips. A few of them I use to bandage the woman's wounds, the rest I use to mark a trail back to the road.(place the call again) The operator asks where I am and I give her the street (name of the park/woods/area). "Just send someone I'll flag him down." I instruct frantically. It couldn't be more than 5 minutes before I hear the siren in the distance. I will it to travel faster. (this is an awkward sentence) I have no way of knowing if she is still alive. That dog, what if he comes back? (what if that dog comes back?)

gr8writer · 04-20-2008, 12:12 AM

"If at first you don't succeed..." let me know what you think.

smilinghelps · 04-21-2008, 12:26 PM

I read your post regarding "too many adjectives'. You have done some nice work with your rewrites, although I'd still like more showing instead of telling.

For example, when the paramedics come to the woods, you can use dialogue to show us what happens.

This whole paragraph can be stronger

Quote:

Something inside me tells me this dog is Midnight, I need to dress his wounds. "What's happened to you boy?" I ask as I reach for his collar. "Let's get you home and clean you up." The dog does not attempt to follow me, instead he bares his bloody teeth and growls. Then without warning, he starts off into the woods. Something in that growl sent a chill down my spine. Still, I am overcome with a powerful urge to follow him. I will always attribute that decision to women's intuition. This dog was not acting like Midnight even though, apart from his wounds, he appeared to be the same dog which I had known for the past seven years.

My intuition tells me this is my Midnight, he looks hurt, "What happened boy? Are you OK?" Panic starts to flood my brain and my pulse begins to race, I'm afraid to go near my own pet but simulteously want to care for him. Reaching for his collar I ask him to come with me but he bares his teeth and growls a low warning growl that keeps me from pursuing him further. Without warning he turns and dashes into the woods, his urgency prods me to chase after him, unsure of what to expect. Midnight is acting very strangely and I'm suddenly filled with dread when I come upon a woman lying....

When the boss calls, give us dialogue there too.

I don't know if it's adjectives or not, but it definitely tells us more than shows us.

Try reading it backwards, paragraph by paragraph--sentence by sentence if you have to, that might help you be more objective.

You're doing a really nice job. Keep going.

No Brakes · 04-21-2008, 01:02 PM

I followed the link from the adjectives thread to get here. I don't think you have overdone it in terms of the adjectives at all. I enjoyed the story and I think it has potential. The others have made some wonderful suggestions and all I have are a couple of nits:

Quote:

abulance (ambulance)

Quote:

desparately (desperately)

Quote:

sleep alludes (eludes) me.

Quote:

I flick on the T.V. dog food commericals (sp) seem to be on every channel then I find the news.

This sentence is rather awkward. How about something along the lines of "I flick on the T.V. - dog food commercials seem to be on every channel. I eventually find the news channel.

Keep fine-tuning this!

CodeRed · 04-22-2008, 08:56 AM

I've also read the post about too many adjectives, but this is the only version of the story I've read so I can't make any comparisons. I think I can see where your friend is coming from regarding too many adjectives. It's most notable in the first couple of paragraphs, but the writing smooths out quite a bit after those. Just as an example:

Quote:

I unclip my multi-function cell phone from my belt

'Multi-function' isn't absolutely necessary here because most phones are these days, but particularly because the only use it has in the story is as a phone, so it's not especially relevant to point out to the reader.

I would also second smilinghelps regarding the inclusion of some dialogue, it can give the story a little more 'action', as first person, present-tense narratives can be a little monotonous to some readers. (Please note, however, that I don't find this monotonous at all!)

Just one other niggle. It's evident that the character has a deep attachment to Midnight, so I'm wondering if she would really chain him up and leave his wounds untreated in favour of visiting his supposed victim? I mean, I understand restraining him and visiting the woman, but the only reason I can think of that she wouldn't treat the wounds is that maybe she fears him, still believeing that he was the attacker.

It's an enjoyable read. The tension and suspense is well done, and I felt the emotion of the character regarding the turmoil over whether to admit the 'truth' or keep her dog safe. It was a nice relief at the end, well done!

phurst · 04-22-2008, 12:20 PM

I made it half way. The sentences feel clipped and dictated. I see above had adressed many issues already. I reall hate the multi-function phone too(mentioned above). It needs flow like some of the re-writes above. I didn't see anyone complain of too many adj.

needmoneyforcollege · 04-24-2008, 07:55 AM

show don't tell