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Alice's Wings > Kat among the pigeons - Chapter 1

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message 1: by Amy (new)

Amy Of Tarth | 129 comments Hi guys. So this is a Divergent fanfic I'm writing at the minute. All credit for the world etc goes to Veronica Roth. Feel free to comment, I'd like to know how to improve it. Thanks, Alice.

message 2: by Amy (last edited Jan 14, 2016 06:11AM) (new)

Amy Of Tarth | 129 comments Chapter 1 - Sticks and Stones

The fact that I'm Divergent seems completely irrelevant , especially in comparison to all my other issues. And I have a lot of issues. They are generally the core of my existence, with other particles just drifting, guided by their force. But the test administrator sends me home early anyway, something that doesn't really enthuse me; why would it?

I trail the city, not wanting to return to the Abnegation sector, to return to my 'home'. Because it's not my home; a home is somewhere you belong, not somewhere you fear. My small feet carry me forward. Nowhere in particular. Just around. Buildings towering over me; wide reflective windows, muddy tracks, cracked pavement. Rain darkens the colours of the city. Makes it drab - dark - pockets of water clinging to glass. Slipping down. Dripping into puddles. I avoid the factionless sector - the Abnegation are sometimes there; I don't want to see them - and the Erudite for that matter. I don't have to visit her anymore. Not unless I choose Erudite; which I won't. But at least staying with my mother is better than staying with him. She works long hours. I barely ever see her. She has less time to inflict pain upon me. But she still fits it into her already crammed schedule, full of sleepless nights and early mornings. Woken from restless slumber again and again.
Scraping the toe of my boot against the floor. Dragging myself through the streets. Brushing my hand against the walls as I walk. I avoid everywhere I'll be seen and recognised; pulled apart and tortured all over again. It's cowardly, I know. But I can't avoid him forever, and the moment of my return will only be worse.

Murky water splashes against my boots, disrupting the puddles left by the morning's rain. The smell of it still on the pavements. I pause. Wait for the water to settle. And try to catch a glimpse of myself against the ripples; a habit of mine since I was little; more innocent that attempting to pry open the sealed compartment hiding our mirror. My face pale and milky, the purple eye from a week ago faded. Mousy hair pulled back tight, into a typical bun. Hated by me. It's never straight, but never curly or wavy or anything else that makes it look half decent. Big eyes. Round. Scared. The walls built up around them crumbling as I near the Abnegation sector. Like the roads, crumbling because we're so selfless and therefore don't need a decent living standard.

The house is still. Silent but not empty. The calm before the storm, as I've come to think of it. The time I'm tensest; waiting for the blow, for the hit. I know it will come, it's just how long I have to expect it to come. He sees me as I pass the defunct living room and beckons. A shiver runs involuntarily down my spine. Goosebumps of ice blue cold.
"Sit. "
I sit. Tentatively; close to the seat edge; easier to get up that way, to escape. Not that I would. He's too strong. Too powerful. He could catch me easily, stop me, bring me back. I would never be able to escape his wrath. His eyes are dark; the end of the darkness unfathomable. Hooked nose; dark, greying hair like a swipe of granite. Harsh, and unfamiliar. Ready to inflict punishment on the unworthy and shamed. The head of our faction and of the council. Maybe it's normal for children to be afraid of their parents. Maybe it's normal for parents to beat their children senseless. Or maybe he's just above everyone else; considering himself God, capable of inflicting punishment as he sees fit. I look somewhere between his thick brows, back straight.
" So,"
His eyes bore deep, looking through the glass that is me. The glass which can't hide me, which will shatter at the slightest touch.
"What was you test result?" His words are clipped, detached; and I remember her words, careful with caution, as she told me my result.
"Abnegation. "
My pulse rate heightens, my mouth dry. I should have been Candor for all I could lie to him for, but then, a Candor wouldn't lie. His expression remains placid. But the eyes flash. It's like rubbing two blades together when I'm near him. Sparks fly, and the pain becomes sharper. The instruments are torture more dangerous.
"I'll ask once more," his voice that facade of patience and polite. But I know it by now. Know I'm on weak ground. Know it will crumble beneath me if I don't escape. But I can't. I won't.
" What was your result?"
I swallow the non-existant saliva stuck in my throat. Black spots flicker on the edge of my peripheral vision, hands tremble.
"Abnegation. "
"Liar. "
The snarl is ripped from his teeth, a beast, uncaged when no eyes are watching. He lunges with vigor. Reactions fast, my arms fly up in protection, but their result is minimal. The first fist crashes through my jaw, the second not far behind. He's not a boxer, knows nothing of the jabs and punches that a Dauntless does. But years of practice have taught him where to hit to cause the most pain. Taught him that I don't fight back. And I don't think the other boy did either. The one who was never supposed to see me. The one my life revolved around avoiding. Because if we'd met properly. If we joined together, we could have rebelled. We could have fought back; because us against him would have meant we had a chance. But I don't have that chance. Not any more. We never had that chance.
Tears sting my lacrimal glands, pooling in the corners of my eyes. Saltwater green and misty. But they don't run. They don't.

Pain streaks my face in the sharp motion, hand shaped imprint left. He has left many a mark on me; these impressions. I cry out unintentionally; the sound leaves my mouth of its own accord. Stiff Abnegation boots strike my calfs, sending me sinking to the floor in submission, curled in a fetal ball of protection, face and chest tucked in, shielded the most. But the anticipated hale-storm of kicks doesn't come.
"Get up. " His voice rough. Chalkboard nails.
I comply, shoulders twitching, facing the wall. Body steeled for the war about to be raged. Except its not a war, not really; a war would have to have two fighting sides. But this does not. This is just him inflicting pain again and again and again.
I wonder how this reflects my test result: Standing here taking it - cowardice. Not thinking of an alternate route - ignorance. Doing something up provoke him - selfishness.

The copper snake against the grey. It strikes, teeth biting into flesh. The pain a torrent of fire; a raging inferno. It comes, again and again, each time more than the last. It relishes in pain, fear, torment; coming back hungry, never receiving enough to quench its thirst. The world rocks through tribulation, black spots everywhere. Maybe the kraken's coming. That would be consolation. Then I could die. It would be quick. The pain would finally end.
"That teaches you to learn from your mistakes. " The sound richots through my ear, disorientated and muddled due to the pounding of the men in my skull. The men trying to get out, to tear me apart from the inside.

His belt hits again, but I'm already halfway to the floor; halfway to darkness; halfway to atataxis.
My world goes black.

message 3: by sucre'd fiend (new)

sucre'd fiend (sucredfiend) | 46 comments - seems completely irrelevant in comparison to all my other problems.

- You set a very good tone, and it seems sort of semi-formal in the way she talks and thinks. But, you've left out quite a bit of detail in terms of her surroundings. Even if she's wandering, she might notice a few things. She might catch herself in the glass window or in a puddle if it rained. Takes chances to describe your character. Because while it may be fun to imagine all sorts of ways the character looks, we still want something to base it on.

- A lot of your sentences could be compounded, or just rewritten. They look to be run-on sentences, or just seem a little badly placed as stand-alones.

- When you have dialogue followed by another thought, separate it from the other sets of dialogue. As it is now, it's very bunched together.

- Watch out for capitalization errors. You missed it several times.

- Who is "he"? You've established some sort of relationship, but not enough of one. What does he look like? Play more on her fear. You can exaggerate his features, and this could be a reflection of her thoughts of him. You then wouldn't have to outright state certain feelings she may have towards him.

- Looking at it again, a lot of your sentences lack detail. "He lunged." Lunged how? Lunged with vigor? Lunged as though he'd been ready for it from the start? Focus on adding more detail to what's going on.

That's all I could think of to comment now, but I may have more feedback later.

message 4: by Amy (new)

Amy Of Tarth | 129 comments Thanks. Ill keep that in mind and edit it. That was really great advice by the way.

message 5: by [deleted user] (new)

Official feedback:

The writing is good enough; it keeps the reader hanging and wondering but that's not always good. For now, it works fine. The few minus points I found are lack of detail which confuses the reader. While there are a few errors, you should focus on the details more; otherwise the story seems plain.

Sorry I offended or bored you, I'm trying to be honest

message 6: by Amy (new)

Amy Of Tarth | 129 comments Thank tinith. I'm not offended or bored, I'm grateful you've taken the time to read it and advise me. Ill take this into account when I edit it thank you.

message 7: by Hallie (new)

Hallie (inkyhallie) Alice, I think you've earned some constructive criticism already , taking in consideration the comments from the rest. Candidly speaking, it reminds me very much of Veronica Roth. However, I echo fiend's opinion on specifying who 'he' is. Certain details are cryptic, and it lacks, no offense, some details about herself. I can find myself asking: Who is she? Why is she here? Why is this enigmatic 'he' not trusting here? Why is she this dubious? If you can sort out that, I'd say you are Veronica Roth in disguise.

message 8: by Amy (new)

Amy Of Tarth | 129 comments Okay, thanks hallie, ill look into that.

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