PDA

View Full Version : The Traveller - Thriller/Horror (895 words)



Butch
June 17th, 2015, 11:39 PM
Hey Guys, just a short piece I wrote to cure my boredom, hope you enjoy.

The Traveller
She had not awoken yet, her beautiful face was peaceful, smooth skin free from frightened lines. That would soon change. He’d injected her with fifty milligrams of chlorpromazine and her eyelids had fluttered like the silky wings of a butterfly. He’d bound and gagged her; necessary arrangements. The cruel acts that would transpire required them. He traced the line of her jaw with the blade of his knife, dark eyes drinking in the calm serenity of her face. Her lips were full and red and shapely. The gag between them parted her mouth, an act she was accustomed to. He brushed a loose strand of lustrous brown hair from the view of her face, placing it with care behind her ear. Her eyes moved rapidly beneath her lids, consciousness nearing. He had stripped her of her clothes, laying her naked on the table. His eyes dropped to the bulge of her breasts as they rose and dipped with the calm tune of her breathing. She groaned suddenly, a thing full of sweetness. That groan forced his eyes lower to the darkness of her groin yet he quickly averted them with a shake of his head. No, remember what she is, filth. He recognized the voice as his own, though it sounded strange and different through its distortion. He hadn’t spoken aloud, yet those words lectured through his mind like something close behind him had whispered in his ear.

He glanced upwards at the humanoid shadow beside the table. There he was, on cue, the thing that voiced his own thoughts and sentiments and talked him through his depraved deeds. He pursed his lips in chastisement, scolding himself silently for being drawn in by her beauty. He looked towards the thing for forgiveness and the shadowed frame responded with a slow, unnerving nod. She stirred, drawing his attention again. Her eyelids quivered, opened and then fell shut once more. Her mouth tasted her gag, fighting to work it out. Her eyes crept open again, watery and brown. At first they moved sluggishly, vacantly and then darted, unsettled and panicked. They fell upon him and widened with confusion and fright. Those eyes spoke for the inability of her mouth. She tried to voice her questions but her words were muffled by the rag jammed between her lips. She attempted to move, fighting against her constraints, trying desperately to loosen them.
“Shhhh,” he soothed her, stroking her hair with gloved hands. He got above her, eyes level with hers and they shifted as though searching his for answers. ‘Why?’ they asked. He answered them.
“You are beautiful,” he acknowledged. His voice was soft and warm.
“But you know how beautiful you are. Very pleasing aren’t you? We could gaze upon your beauty forever. But your soul is black like your heart. Vain, supercilious, condescending; turning your nose up at those you class beneath you,” his voice grew harsher, cold. She sobbed an objection, its coherence lost to the gag.
“I’ve known women like you all my life. All the rejections, the sneers and rebuffs. How dare you refuse me!” he screamed and then calmed suddenly as his shadowed counterpart stirred in disapproval. He licked his lips and straightened from the table.

“You’re not untouchable. You’re not important. You’re not superior. But I am!” He chuckled and the sound of it repeated darkly around the small room as though his gloomy companion favoured his words. He brought the knife deliberately into view and she moaned some small, insignificant plea that he barely heard over the chorus of delight that rose within him. He positioned the knife above her chest, directly opposite her heart. He waited and glanced eagerly up at his dark observer. The shadowy figure moved, slowly. The sound of something sliding through wet grass caught his ear, like silence moving, like wings unfolding; a slither. It reached the other side of the table, a featureless, shadowed face staring back at him. It stretched a dark, formless arm forward, placing cold shadow upon his waiting hand. Together. They always struck together.
It nodded; a thing of complete and frightful control. He smiled and cast his eyes downward, drinking in her confusion, her fright; her imploration. He closed his eyes and breathed in the moment and as the private choir reached their climax he struck. He felt the knife rip through the flesh, splinter the bone and shatter it. He felt her body tighten in quick agony and then slacken. He sensed her anguish and incomprehension. He smelt her fear and tasted her life as death snubbed it out.
A tear glistened in the corner of her eye, clinging to her like life itself. In an ironic finality she drew a last, slow breath to the fall of the tear. She fell still and silent. He reopened his eyes to the waning chorus of joy as silence climbed above it. His amorphous collaborator had vanished. He never did stick around for what was to follow. He grimaced at the thought of it. His indulgence spent, the chore of his survival loomed. It was time for this girl to disappear as surely as his enigmatic friend and to neutralise the room of his presence. In order to subsist, to do what he does without notice or capture, he had to be as every bit as spectral as his dark, outlandish traveller.

Mesafalcon
June 18th, 2015, 06:01 AM
"She had not awoken yet, her beautiful face was peaceful, smooth skin free from frightened lines. That would soon change. He’d injected her with fifty milligrams of chlorpromazine and her eyelids had fluttered like the silky wings of a butterfly. He’d bound and gagged her; necessary arrangements. The cruel acts that would transpire required them. He traced the line of her jaw with the blade of his knife, dark eyes drinking in the calm serenity of her face. Her lips were full and red and shapely. The gag between them parted her mouth, an act she was accustomed to. He brushed a loose strand of lustrous brown hair from the view of her face, placing it with care behind her ear. Her eyes moved rapidly beneath her lids, consciousness nearing. He had stripped her of her clothes, laying her naked on the table. His eyes dropped to the bulge of her breasts as they rose and dipped with the calm tune of her breathing. She groaned suddenly, a thing full of sweetness. That groan forced his eyes lower to the darkness of her groin yet he quickly averted them with a shake of his head. No, remember what she is, filth. He recognized the voice as his own, though it sounded strange and different through its distortion. He hadn’t spoken aloud, yet those words lectured through his mind like something close behind him had whispered in his ear."

This piece has incredibly basic headwords.

And one too many of the same or similar headwords. 7 "he" headers can't create immersion to any eye that is sensitive to them. I also see quite a few sentences starting with "the" and "that" too. Writing like this creates patterns when looked at from a bird's eye view that experienced readers can't ignore.



No offense meant, I am just randomly going through the forums.

apsm
June 30th, 2015, 12:41 PM
First of all, I want to say that this story really did have a dark atmosphere, and you do set a disturbing tone and tension throughout the piece. I also appreciate the man's darker half being represented by the shadow.

Of course, I also do think there was some things you could change. For example, you don't need to repeat “her”, “she”, or “he” all the time. At least try and give them names. In particular in this sentence:


His amorphous collaborator had vanished. He never did stick around for what was to follow. He grimaced at the thought of it. His indulgence spent, the chore of his survival loomed.


It's hard to tell if you're still talking about the murderer or the shadow. Try and at least clarify who you are talking about.


There were also some weird phrases and grammar errors used that I want to point out. For example:

The gag between them parted her mouth, an act she was accustomed to.


Are you implying this woman has a history of being gagged, or is this not the first time he's tortured her like this?



That groan forced his eyes lower to the darkness of her groin yet he quickly averted them with a shake of his head.

I think I know what you were going for (her vaginal canal), but to me this could be interpreted as the groin either being in shadow or covered in dark hair. I think that part could be re-written.



Her mouth tasted her gag, fighting to work it out.

I think “spit it out” could be a better word to use, but that is personal opinion.


But your soul is black like your heart. Vain, supercilious, condescending; turning your nose up at those you class beneath you

I think you mean “those a class beneath you”.


“I’ve known women like you all my life. All the rejections, the sneers and rebuffs. How dare you refuse me!” he screamed

This really was more a grammatical issue with me. I think after a line of dialogue finishes with a full stop, the first word after the talking mark should be in capitals (He screamed).

If you were to re-write this, then I would suggest you elaborate about how this guy got the girl in the first place, or maybe what his history with the shadow is. Otherwise, I think it's a decent short story.

Butch
July 1st, 2015, 12:48 AM
Hi guys,
thanks for taking the time to comment. I appreciate your advice and I'll work on some of the things you've mentioned. I realise i repeat he/she a lot but with it being a short piece, names felt redundant. But i think ill re-work it and throw in a name for the girl. I like how mysterious the guy is and so will probably leave him unnamed for now.
Kind regards,
Butch.

Brian A Seals
July 7th, 2015, 02:06 AM
I think you should be mindful of your paragraph breaks. When you cut down large blocks of text into 4-5 sentence paragraphs, it's much easier to read.

-Brian.

ShadowEyes
July 7th, 2015, 05:37 AM
I'm not sure which emotions you're trying to make me feel. If it's pity for the assaulted, then the third-person limited perspective of the antagonist limits the sensory details. If it's disapproval, then there's reason to believe that the antagonist isn't fully responsible for his actions. The character finds himself in a conflict which: 1, is already won, thus not a conflict; and, 2, not reflective of a trait that makes logical sense, thus not character-revealing. He did this to feel good about himself? Any animal could do that. He did this for some demon-character? It's not explained or explained in the wrong order, cart before the horse.

I would suggest, if you'd like this to be more than practice in writing descriptions, to flesh out the character so that we can see him choose actions which lead him to this path.

...
(: