THE GHOST OF ME - CHAPTER 1

[shadow]

Hey guys. I have been working on a new novel which I am really excited about. I know there may be some grammatical errors, I am still touching base with grammar, bah! But I really would love to know if you would read on.

My eyes snap open. My room is dark; the stuffed animals on the shelves are creating eerie shadows. They are old, memories of my childhood that I fear too much to loose. I slowly get up and hug my arms around my waist, shivering. One of the glass doors to my balcony is ajar, letting in frosty air that bites my toes. I tip toe forward, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. Something about waking at this time of night scares me. The darkness scares me.

With a sudden thump something falls from the sky and lands on my balcony. It’s black and big but I can’t tell what it is. Suddenly a sharp pain gnaws at my skull and I clutch onto my temples balancing myself and breathing hard. Is this a dream? I pinch myself but the picture doesn’t clear.

Whatever lies on my balcony is completely still and as I advance I shut my mouth, vomit hitting the back of my throat. It’s a man, no, a boy. I crouch close to him. He has longish dark hair and a cleanly shaved face. I don’t even notice the blood that surrounds us as I stare into his eyes that are half-open. His lips are shaking, trying to utter something. His eyes tell me enough. He is scared, so am I.

His cold hand grasps mine and I jump slightly, but I still hold on. The pain in my own skull won’t stop thudding but I manage to ignore it. The palm of his hand is cold against mine and the blood won’t stop coming. The back of his skull is popped open like a melon and as his hand slips out of mine I feel as if I just lost something that mattered.

His hand falls limply into the large pool of blood that had formed. That’s when I noticed the symbol of infinity tattooed onto his wrist. My heart beats wildly. What do I do?

His bright blue eyes are staring at me blankly. I know he is dead but I still can’t force myself to move. I am frozen. The thumping migraine that came on to me is gone and I manage to get up, hold on to the balcony and puke. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and manage my way back into my room. I bump around until I find my light switch and pick up the phone. But who is he? I will never find out. The receiver buzzes in my ear and I let it slip out of my hand.

My heart is beating so loud now that I swear it will bounce out onto the floor. I open the balcony door back up and bite my lip. I have never seen him before. Apart from the metallic scent of blood that fills my nose I smell a faint aroma of cigarettes and aftershave. I reach into the pocket of his black hooded sweater gingerly and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I place it back and reach into the side pocket of his skinny jeans pulling out a shabby leather wallet. I leaf through the wallet. No money, not even a cent. No identity, just a photograph. I take the photograph out and analyze it under the moonlight.

An image of me stares back at myself from the crumpled paper, my high school prom picture. My brown hair hangs loose, my green eyes shine like a cats. My jaw drops and I let the picture fall. Panic takes control, I start to crawl backwards and soon I find that my hands and knees are wet with his blood. The balcony door had somehow closed and I claw at it, trembling, crying and whimpering. Finally I grip the doorknob and manage to open it. I run inside, my feet leaving bloody traces on my white carpet. Tears stream down my face. I run out into the hallway as fast as I can, when I bump into something. No, someone. The pounding in my head starts again and I feel myself go limp in somebody’s arms.

[sarahdee]

My eyes snap open. My room is dark; the stuffed animals on the shelves are creating eerie shadows. They are old, memories of my childhood that I fear fear of the stuffed animals or fear of losing them? too much to loose. I slowly get up and hug my arms around my waist, shivering. One of the glass doors to my balcony is ajar, letting in frosty air that bites my toes. I tip toe forward, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. Something about waking at this time of night scares me. The darkness scares me.

With a sudden thump something falls from the sky and lands on my balcony. It’s black and big how big? perhaps 'It's black and about the size of a dinner plate but I can’t tell what it is make out what it is in the dark?. Suddenly a sharp pain gnaws at my skull and I clutch onto my temples, balancing myself and breathing hard. "Is this a dream?" I pinch myself but the picture doesn’t clear.

Whatever lies on my balcony is completely still and, as I advance, I shut my mouth, vomit hitting the back of my throat. It’s a man, no, a boy. I crouch close to him. He has longish dark hair and a cleanly shaved face. I don’t even notice the blood that surrounds us that sounds to me like blood in the air - do you mean a pool of blood on the balcony. Also, if you don't notice it, why mention it? as I stare into his eyes that are half-open. His lips are shaking, trying to utter something. His eyes tell me enough. He is scared, so am I.

His cold hand grasps mine and I jump slightly, but I still hold on. The pain in my own skull won’t stop thudding but I manage to ignore it. The palm of his hand is cold against mine and the blood won’t stop coming. The back of his skull is popped open like a melon and as his hand slips out of mine I feel as if I just lost something that mattered.

His hand falls limply into the large pool of blood that had formed. That’s when I noticed the symbol of infinity tattooed onto his wrist. My heart beats wildly. What do I do?

His once bright blue eyes are staring at me blankly. I know he is dead but I still can’t force myself to move. I am frozen. The thumping migraine that came on to me is gone and I manage to get up, hold on to the balcony and puke. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and manage my way back into my room. I bump around until I find my light switch and pick up the phone. But who is he? I will never find out. The receiver buzzes in my ear and I let it slip out of my hand.

My heart is beating so loud now that I swear it will bounce out onto the floor. I open the balcony door back up and bite my lip. I have never seen him before. Apart from the metallic scent of blood that fills my nose I smell a faint aroma of cigarettes and aftershave. I reach into the pocket of his black hooded sweater gingerly and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I place it back and reach into the side pocket of his skinny jeans pulling out a shabby leather wallet. I leaf through the wallet. No money, not even a cent. No identity, just a photograph. I take the photograph out and analyze it under the moonlight.

An image of me stares back at myself from the crumpled paper, my high school prom picture. My brown hair hangs loose, my green eyes shine like a cats. My jaw drops and I let the picture fall. Panic takes control, I start to crawl backwards and soon I find that my hands and knees are wet with his blood. The balcony door had somehow closed and I claw at it, trembling, crying and whimpering. Finally I grip the doorknob and manage to open it. I run inside, my feet leaving bloody traces on my white carpet. Tears stream down my face. I run out into the hallway as fast as I can, when I bump into something. No, someone. The pounding in my head starts again and I feel myself go limp in somebody’s arms.

Oooh very creepy indeed. I like the use of the present tense, adds to the atmosphere. Made a few small suggestions but nothing major.

[shadow]

Why thank you Sarah! I was leaning towards creepy with a hint of scary :) Will update with your suggestions soon.

[Emily J]

Hey guys. I have been working on a new novel which I am really excited about. I know there may be some grammatical errors, I am still touching base with grammar, bah! But I really would love to know if you would read on.

My eyes snap open. off the bat, way too many manuscripts start with someone waking up (mine use to, so I understand the appeal) My room is dark; stylistically I don't like the semi-colon after such a short sentence, I would try to rephrase and make the next sentence a dependent clause the stuffed animals on the shelves are creating eerie shadows. They are old, "they" is an pronoun replacing the stuffed animals, stuffed animals do not = memories memories of my childhood that I fear too much to loose. lose not loose I slowly get up and hug my arms around my waist, shivering. One of the glass doors to my balcony is ajar, letting in frosty air that bites my toes. I tip toe forward, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. Something about waking at this time of night scares me. The darkness scares me. i like these sentences, and I don't mind the repetition

With a sudden thump comma something falls from the sky and lands on my balcony. It’s black and big but I can’t tell what it is. Suddenly comma, and you just used "sudden" and now you are using "Suddenly" this repetition does not work a sharp pain gnaws at my skull and I clutch onto clutch onto sounds odd, clutch at? maybe? my temples comma balancing myself and breathing hard. Is this a dream? I pinch myself but the picture doesn’t clear. "picture doesn't clear" is a bit vague, also what is the pain?

Whatever lies on my balcony is completely still I would probably start a new sentence here and as I advance I shut my mouth, vomit hitting the back of my throat. icky It’s a man, no, a boy. I crouch close to him. He has longish dark hair and a cleanly shaved face. it's a boy but he's shaved? sounds like a man to me I don’t even notice the blood that surrounds us agree with other comment, this is first person so don't describe something the narrative voice doesn't notive, POV issue as I stare into his eyes that are half-open. His lips are shaking, trying to utter something. His eyes tell me enough. He is scared, so am I. I like this part, esp. the line "His eyes tell me enough."

His cold hand grasps mine and I jump slightly, but I still "still" doesn't add anything here hold on. The pain in my own skull won’t stop thudding but I manage to ignore it. The palm of his hand is cold against mine and the blood won’t stop coming. The back of his skull is popped open like a melon and as his hand slips out of mine comma I feel as if I just lost something that mattered. not sure this line works for me, someone just died, this comes across as incredibly selfish, unless that is your MC?

His hand falls limply into the large pool of blood that had formed. That’s when I noticed the symbol of infinity tattooed onto his wrist. very interesting detail, i want to know more! My heart beats wildly. What do I do? consider dropping this line, it's all tell, plus it seems implied, standing in a nightgown staring down at a corpse on her balcony

His bright blue eyes are staring at me blankly. I know he is dead but I still can’t force myself to move. I am frozen. The thumping migraine that came on to me "came on to me" is not really the connotation you're looking for here is gone and I manage to get up, hold on to the balcony and puke. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and manage repeating the word manage my way back into my room. I bump around until I find my light switch and pick up the phone. But who is he? I will never find out. this is odd, where does this thought come from, "I will never find out" you are writing in the present tense right? The receiver buzzes in my ear and I let it slip out of my hand.

My heart is beating so loud hmm, shouldn't this be "loudly" if it is describing the beating? now that I swear it will bounce out onto the floor. I open the balcony door cut "back up" back up and bite my lip. I have never seen him before. Apart from the metallic scent of blood that fills my nose comma I smell a faint aroma of cigarettes and aftershave. I reach into the pocket of his black hooded black-hooded sweater not a sweatshirt? I guess some sweater's have hoods gingerly and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I place it back and reach into the side pocket of his skinny jeans pulling out a shabby leather wallet. I leaf through the wallet. No money, not even a cent. No identity, just a photograph. I take the photograph out and analyze it under the moonlight.

An image of me stares back at myself "at myself" feels redundant from the crumpled paper, I might use a colon and not a comma here my high school prom picture. My brown hair hangs loose, my green eyes shine like a cats. like a cat's? My jaw drops and I let the picture fall. Panic takes control, a comma is not enough to join these together, you need to start a new sentence or add a conjunction I start to crawl backwards and soon I find that my hands and knees are wet with his blood. The balcony door had somehow closed "had closed"? be careful of your tenses, I think it should be "The balcony door has somehow closed behind me..." and I claw at it, trembling, crying serial comma and whimpering. Finally I grip the doorknob and manage there's that verb again! to open it. I run inside, my feet leaving bloody traces on my the white carpet? then you wouldn't be repeating "my" white carpet. Tears stream down my face. cliche! I run out into the hallway as fast as I can, when I bump into something. No, someone. The pounding in my head starts again and I feel myself go limp in somebody’s arms. nice ending!

Spooky! You have done a good job of setting the atmosphere.

Be careful how this is framed, however. You are writing in the present tense but at times it feels as though someone is reflecting back on this. If you are writing in the present tense, stay in the present.

[shadow]

Emily, I can't thank you enough for your advice! You are good. I can say that :) Here is another take at this.

I shiver in the darkness of my cold room, unable to sleep. The stuffed animals on the shelves are creating eerie shadows. The stuffed animals are old, and bring back memories. The ones I fear to lose. I slowly get up and hug my arms around my waist. One of the glass doors to my balcony is ajar, letting in frosty air that bites my toes. I tip toe forward, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. Something about being awake at this time of night scares me. The darkness scares me.

With a heavy thump, something falls from the sky and lands on my balcony. It’s black and big but I can’t tell what it is. Suddenly, a sharp pain gnaws at my skull and I clutch at my temples, balancing myself and breathing hard. Is this a dream? I pinch myself but the picture doesn’t clear and the phantom pain won’t go away.

Whatever lies on my balcony is completely still. As I advance I shut my mouth, vomit hitting the back of my throat. It’s a young man. I crouch close to him. He has longish dark hair and a cleanly shaved face. I stare into his eyes that are half-open. His lips are shaking, trying to utter something. His eyes tell me enough. He is scared, so am I.

His cold hand grasps mine and I jump slightly, but I hold on. The pain in my own skull won’t stop thudding but I manage to ignore it. The palm of his hand is cold against mine and his blood is forming a pool around us. The back of his skull is popped open like a melon and as his hand slips out of mine, I feel incredibly lost and scared.

His hand falls limply into the large pool of blood that had formed. That’s when I noticed the symbol of infinity tattooed onto his wrist. His bright blue eyes are staring at me blankly. I know he is dead but I still can’t force myself to move. I am frozen. The thumping migraine is gone and I manage to get up, hold on to the balcony and puke. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and make my way back into my room. I bump around until I find my light switch and pick up the phone. But who is he? If I call the police, I will never know why he is here. The receiver buzzes in my ear and I let it slip out of my hand.

My heart is beating so loudly now that I swear it will bounce out onto the floor. I open the balcony door and bite my lip. I have never seen him before. Apart from the metallic scent of blood that fills my nose, I smell a faint aroma of cigarettes and aftershave. I reach into the pocket of his black-hooded sweatshirt gingerly and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I place it back and reach into the side pocket of his skinny jeans pulling out a shabby leather wallet. I leaf through the wallet. No money, not even a cent. No identity, just a photograph. I take the photograph out and analyze it under the moonlight.

An image of me stares back from the crumpled paper; my high school prom picture. My brown hair hangs loose, my green eyes smiling. My jaw drops and I let the picture fall. Panic takes control. I start to crawl backwards and soon I find that my hands and knees are wet with his blood. The balcony door has somehow closed behind me and I claw at it, trembling, crying , and whimpering. Finally I grip the doorknob and open it. I run inside, my feet leaving bloody traces on the white carpet. I run out into the hallway as fast as I can, when I bump into something. No, someone. The pounding in my head starts again and I feel myself go limp in somebody’s arms.

[Emily J]

Emily, I can't thank you enough for your advice! You are good. I can say that :) Here is another take at this.

I shiver in the darkness of my cold room, unable to sleep. The stuffed animals on the shelves are creating eerie shadows. The stuffed animals are old, and bring back memories. The ones I fear to lose. <-- considering merging this with the previous sentence I slowly get up and hug my arms around my waist. One of the glass doors to my balcony is ajar, letting in frosty air that bites my toes. I tip toe forward, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. Something about being awake at this time of night scares me. The darkness scares me.

With a heavy thump, something falls from the sky and lands on my balcony. It’s black and big but I can’t tell what it is. Suddenly, a sharp pain gnaws at my skull and I clutch at my temples, balancing myself and breathing hard. Is this a dream? I pinch myself but the picture doesn’t clear and the phantom pain won’t go away.

Whatever lies on my balcony is completely still. As I advance I shut my mouth, vomit hitting the back of my throat. It’s a young man. I crouch close to him. He has longish dark hair and a cleanly shaved face. I stare into his eyes that are half-open. His lips are shaking, trying to utter something. His eyes tell me enough. He is scared, so am I.

His cold hand grasps mine and I jump slightly, but I hold on. The pain in my own skull won’t stop thudding but I manage to ignore it. The palm of his hand is cold against mine consider cutting "against mine" leaving it out brings us closer to the main character and his blood is forming a pool around us. The back of his skull is popped open like a melon and as his hand slips out of mine, I feel incredibly lost and scared. <-- this feels like telling not showing

His hand falls limply into the large pool of blood that had formed. <-- tense issue here, shouldn't it be "that has formed" ? That’s when I noticed <-- tense issue and POV issue, since this is first person you can leave out some of the noticing, seeing etc. since everything is filtered through the MC's eyes, instead try "A small black tattoo stands out against the pale skin of the man's wrist: the looping symbol of infinity" <-- suggestion only! the symbol of infinity tattooed onto his wrist. His bright blue eyes are staring at me blankly. I know he is dead <-- again the "I know" feels a bit unnecessay, how about "The eyes are lifeless but I still cannot look away" you get the idea but I still can’t force myself to move. I am frozen. The thumping migraine is gone and I manage to get up, hold on to the balcony and puke. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and make my way back into my room. I bump around until I <-- a bit too many "I"s in this paragraph find my light switch and pick up the phone. But who is he? If I call the police, I will never know why he is here. The receiver buzzes in my ear and I let it slip out of my hand.

My heart is beating so loudly now that I swear it will bounce out onto the floor. I open the balcony door and bite my lip. I have never seen him before. Apart from the metallic scent of blood that fills my nose, I smell a faint aroma of cigarettes and aftershave. I reach into the pocket of his black-hooded sweatshirt gingerly and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I place it back and reach into the side pocket of his skinny jeans pulling out a shabby leather wallet. I leaf through the wallet. No money, not even a cent. No identity, just a photograph. I take the photograph out and analyze it under the moonlight.

An image of me stares back from the crumpled paper; <-- I don't think this makes sense as a semi-colon since the second part isn't a complete sentence, colon? my high school prom picture. My brown hair hangs loose, my green eyes smiling. <-- tense issue, "my green eyes are smiling" ?? My jaw drops and I let the picture fall. Panic takes control. I start to crawl backwards and soon I find that my hands and knees are wet with his blood. <-- "I crawl backwards and soon my hands and knees are wet with his blood." The balcony door has somehow closed behind me and I claw at it, trembling, crying , <-- extra space before the comma and whimpering. Finally I grip the doorknob and open it. I run inside, my feet leaving bloody traces on the white carpet. I run out into the hallway as fast as I can, when I bump into something. No, someone. The pounding in my head starts again and I feel myself go limp in somebody’s arms.

I still like this, but I think it might help emerse the reader in the scene to have a few less "I"s and a few more immediate descriptions of the scene. That way the reader will begin to see through the character's eyes in a way. I hope that makes sense.

[belindasmith]

Hi Shadow I like the pace of your writing, the second rewrite is much clearer and such a big step from the first. Well done.

"I tip toe forward, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. Something about being awake at this time of night scares me. The darkness scares me." Like this repetition it suggests the mind becoming clearer as the person is waking up and becoming alert.

"the phantom pain won’t go away" is it a phantom pain? It seems real to the character, maybe leave the phantom part out, we learn later, as does the character, that it is somehow connected to the dark shape/ person.

I like the way your character feels the cold air and smells the metallic blood and so when you get to the part where the vomit hits the back of the throat, you are starting to tell me what the character is experiencing. For example i.e. my throat starts burning as vomit pushes up the back of my throat is showing us what the character is experiencing. This helps keep us close to the character and shows us what they are feeling rather than telling us. The same thing happens when you use "I know...." Remember show the reader don't tell the reader, as Emily has mentioned, keeping the descriptions immediate helps keep the reader involved with the character and the pace of the story going. Well done keep it up.

[stephmcgee]

I read the first part, where you said "the ones I fear to loose" as the MC being afraid to revisit the memories, in other words, to let them loose into her free thought.

But if that's not what you were aiming for, then it maybe should be "lose" because she's trying to hold on to the memories. I'm not sure. Just my thought. It's an intriguing first page. I do wonder at the instant headache. It confused me at first because I wondered if the falling object was a distraction and someone had struck her from behind.

My two cents, for all the sou they're worth.

[SSB]

First off, I want to let you know that I am not a published author, just a reader, so take what I say with a grain of salt.

I like your story. You have my attention.

My eyes snap open. My room is dark; the stuffed animals on the shelves are creating eerie shadows, but they are old, memories of my childhood, which I can't bear to part with. I fear too much to loose. I slowly get up and hug my arms around my waist, shivering. One of the glass doors to my balcony is ajar, letting in frosty air that bites my toes. I tip toe forward, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. Something about waking at this time of night scares me. The darkness scares me.

With a sudden thump something falls from the sky and lands on my balcony. It’s black and big but I can’t tell what it is. Suddenly, a sharp pain gnaws at my skull, and I clutch onto my temples balancing myself and breathing hard. Is this a dream? I pinch myself but the picture doesn’t clear.

Whatever lies on my balcony is completely still, and as I advance I shut my mouth, vomit hitting the back of my throat. It’s a man, no, a boy. I crouch close to him. He has longish dark hair and a cleanly shaved face. (Would a boy have a cleanly shaven face?)I don’t even notice the blood that surrounds us (If you don't see it, don't mention it)as I stare into his eyes that are half-open. His lips are shaking, trying to utter something. His eyes tell me enough. He is scared, so am I.

His cold hand grasps mine and I jump slightly, but, I still hold on. The pain in my own skull won’t stop thudding,but I manage to ignore it. The palm of his hand is cold against mine and the blood won’t stop coming[/color] Don't need the word coming. The back of his skull is popped open like a melon, and as his hand slips out of mine I feel as if I just lost something that mattered.

His hand falls limply into the large pool of blood that had formed[/color](Do you need that has formed. That’s when I noticed the symbol of infinity tattooed onto his wrist. My heart beats wildly. What do I do?

His bright blue eyes are staring at me blankly. I know he is dead but I still can’t force myself to move. I am frozen. The thumping migraine that came on to me is gone, and I manage to get up, hold on to the balcony and puke. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and manage my way back into my room. I bump around until I find my light switch and pick up the phone. But who is he? I will never find out. The receiver buzzes in my ear and I let it slip out of my hand.

My heart is beating so loud now that that (don't need that I swear it will bounce out onto the floor. I open the balcony door back up and bite my lip. I have never seen him before. Apart from the metallic scent of blood that fills my nose. I smell a faint aroma of cigarettes and aftershave. I reach into the pocket of his black hooded sweater gingerly and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I place it back and reach into the side pocket of his skinny jeans (I like you referred to skinny jeans, lets the reader know the place in time) pulling out a shabby leather wallet. I leaf through the wallet. No money, not even a cent. No identity, just a photograph. I take the photograph out and analyze it under the moonlight.

An image of me stares back at myself change to me? from the crumpled paper, my high school prom picture. My brown hair hangs loose, my green eyes shine like a cats.(Nice description) My jaw drops and I let the picture fall. Panic takes control, I start to crawl backwards and soon I find that my hands and knees are wet with his blood. The balcony door had somehow closed, and I claw at it, trembling, crying and whimpering. Finally I grip the doorknob and manage to open it. I run inside, my feet leaving bloody traces on my white carpet. Tears stream down my face. I run out into the hallway as fast as I can, when I bump into something. No, someone. The pounding in my head starts again and I feel myself go limp in somebody’s arms.
All things writing, visit my blog http://arielemerald.blogspot.com/

[EllieAnn]

This felt more like stream of consciousness than first person. So many details. Because it was first person present (which is SUCH a hard tense to pull off), it was pretty hard to follow what was happening, to weed out the important details and to see the big picture.
Instead of being frightened with the MC, I was confused. Instead of being pulled into the plot, I was pulled out of it by the constant stream of his consciousness. Not sure I could read a whole book like this.
That said, you are a good writer. You obviously have a story you're passionate about and I'd hate to dissuade you from taking a risk-but I do want to warn you that first person present is awfully unforgiving, and all of the writer's flaws in character development, tension, and description are heightened when you use that tense.