Jared: a comparison

Story written by Dnavarre on Friday 28, November 2008

Member Avatar
Description
A comparison of the original and the newly rewritten first few pages.

Overall Rating: 84%

This writing has been rated by 1 members, resulting in a rating of 84% overall. Below is a breakdown of these results:

Concept/Plot:85%
Imagery:88%
Spelling & Grammar:80%
Flow/Rhythm:87%
Vocabulary:80%
I have re-written the first bit of Jared. Could anyone care to read the original/new and say if it's much better, if I need to keep working, or get better altogether and then come back to it? ==ORIGINAL== My name is Jared. I am fifteen. My father disappeared long ago, along with half a thousand soldiers in an army attack on the Geko. My mother started complaining a few days later and she seemed to dull. She died exactly three weeks after my father disappeared. Half of the soldiers that returned from the attack had no memory of who they were. The only thing they knew was the way back. Ten of them knew everything and stated that there had been no battle at all. One day 500 of them disappeared and one-thousand lost their memory. Those ten were killed later, when the Geko attacked the village of Oleif. The Geko are an evil force made of demons, creatures, bandits, and anyone that was no longer accepted in society. Their villages are never inhabited long. They stay for a few weeks, two months tops, then they pack up and leave the land. They burn the villages they set up, houses and all, and march away. "Kelicah," I whispered, my hands held out in front of me, palms facing out, my thumbs touching, just as I was taught. There was a golden light that illuminated the dark of the midnight shadows extending from my hands. The light, the shape of my hands, floated forward. I relaxed my extended fingers and the light stayed just as it was supposed to. The light was slender and free moving. My thumbs were the basis for it, like a head. The fingers flapped like the skeleton of wings. A light resembling a butterfly, a light summon, as it was called. It was one of the simplest spells, used to illuminate and, in beginners, to test if they had the ability to perform. There were several types of people in my world. We had Geko, warriors, mages, summoners, battle-mages, Vortans and commoners. Warriors were fighters. Mages used magic in battle, usually these were the people who couldn't use summoning spells. Summoners used created fighters to aid in battle. Battle-mages are the warriors that used magic to enhance their powers. Commoners were the people who had either never learned magic or never used it. Vortans were the people who had no ability to use magic. I was lucky enough to be one of the 1000 people born a year with the ability to summon. The butterfly floated around the room. I smiled as it left a dim trail of light in its path. I was glad I could summon, but there was always that nagging thought that there were thousands of others that only wished they could. I was sitting on my bed, a simple wooden frame with a stuffed mattress and covered with a sheet. It was midnight. I should have been asleep hours ago, resting for training tomorrow. I couldn't, I wasn't tired. There was a shadow, light enough to be seen in the darkness. The butterfly faded into air, the trail it left failed as well. The shadow was human and on the wall. It was thin and faced towards me. There was a flash of light, from its eyes, and I fell to my bed. My mind went blank and the darkness got even darker as I passed out. I awoke and was late for training. It was almost ten. I did a quick check around my room for anything unusual. There was only the bed, my wooden dresser, a few books scattered on the floor, and a...bloody scimitar sticking out of the wooden floor. ==NEW== It all started with a sword. I can't really say it's an adventure or quest, because that would be an immense understatement. It's near impossible for me to believe it's been so many years since it began. To start my story, I'll begin...well, when it started. My name is Jared. I am fifteen. My father disappeared long ago, along with half a thousand soldiers in an attack on a group called the Geko. My mother started complaining of pain a few days later and she seemed to dull, became gray in appearance and black in emotional state. She passed away about three weeks after my father disappeared. Her eyes had turned black and there were no eyelids to close. Half of the soldiers that returned from the attack had no memory of which they were, not a thing. Four hundred and ninety could recall basics about their lives. Ten of them knew everything and babbled something about there being no battle at all-that one night, near five hundred soldiers had disappeared from reality and all their possessions went with them. The ten who could remember it all were followed by a group of Geko. The group tried to sneak into the town-Olief-and assassinate them, but they were stopped. Still, the ten fell victim to the same strange happening that killed my mother. The Geko are an evil force made of creatures, bandits, and anyone that was no longer accepted in a humane society. They did not settle anywhere-whenever they were monitored and whenever they built a town it would be attacked and burned to keep them weak. Instead, they were nomads, using tents. They would stay in a place for a few weeks, the move with herds. Anyway, we should move on to the beginning of my story. "Kelicah," I whispered, my hands held out in front of me, palms out, thumbs touching, just as I was taught in school a long time ago. A golden light extended from my hands that destroyed the dark of midnight. The light, focused in the shape of my hands, floated forwards, pulling itself from my hands like a bubble, stretching then snapping into place. I relaxed my extended fingers and the light swayed drunkenly as it was supposed to and had before. The light, slender, lost it's drafted movements and became a free moving shining object. My thumbs were the basis for it, like a head. The fingers flapped like the skeleton of wings. It was a light resembling a butterfly, a light summon, as it was called in school. It was one of the simplest spells, used to illuminate and to help beginners focus their mana. There were several types of people in my world. We had Geko, warriors, mages, summoners, battle-mages, Vortans and commoners. Warriors were fighters, of course. Mages used magic in battle; usually they had more trouble summoning than others. Summoners used their own creations to aid in battle in many ways. Battle-mages were the warriors that used magic to enhance their powers; sometimes they were warriors with another's magic on them. Commoners were the people who had either never learned magic or almost never used it. Vortans were the people who had no ability to use magic-they were rare in many parts of the land. I was lucky enough to have magic easily come to me. I let my eyes adjust to the light. The butterfly floated around the room like a leaf in wind. I smiled as it left a dim trail of light in its path that soon faded. I was glad I could summon, but there was always that nagging thought that there were people who wished they could or more easily could. I was sitting on my bed, cross legged. It was a simple wooden frame, a stuffed-feather mattress and covered with a white sheet that had been cleaned a day before. It was just after midnight, on a Monday, I think. I should have been asleep hours ago, resting for tomorrow's training and schoolwork, but I couldn't, I wasn't tired for some reason. Although the summon put some light in the room, darkness still surrounded me, hiding in the corners, on the farthest wall, and out the window. But there was a strange shadow. Wait, where did that shadow come from? It shouldn't be there... was what I thought at first. Then I saw it completely-it was a human shadow that looked to be leaning on the wall, with a hand on it. And it was facing me. It was a thin thing, and its black eyes were had a small circle of white around them and also around where the pupils would have been. There was hair, but it was too hard to tell it apart, since it was all black. Its eyes burned into my soul, into my mind, replacing my vision with a bright light that hurt like staring at the sun or keeping your eyes open as you approached a fire at less than an arms length. I started to stand, but found my body much too heavy, like if I was underwater and wearing full armor. I fell back to my bed, my eyes locked on its. My mind blanked, the light faded, my butterfly with it, and the darkness seemed even darker than a new moon with no stars. I didn't think for several hours, only seeing the eyes.
   

Post Comment

Please Login to Post a Comment.

Comments

    The rewritten portion is much better. Don't be afraid to change and rearrange to make a better tail. To my knowledge, only Mozart was able to create beauty without a revision of some sort.