Hope everybody's writing is going well! I haven't been able to write much lately as I've been finishing my final year at Uni but now that's over I can finally relax and work on my novel. It was the subject of my dissertation so I couldn't really post anything about it, and still can't since it hasn't finished being graded yet, but I've written some more since submission passed so I was hoping for some feedback on the writing in general?
It isn't the part I wouldn't chosen to post if I could, but I don't want to risk my dissertation work flagging plagiarism from my own post on here :P I've written three chapters now, working on the fourth at the moment. The two quotes i've posted below are from chapters 2 and 4 respectively.
If anyone likes it and wants to know more about the plot, feel free to ask
The house is bigger. That’s my initial observation. Not a great deal but enough that my bedroom is more spacious, which is good because I don’t bother to unpack anything when we arrive. I dump the boxes in the corner of the room, instead choosing to explore the massive woodland that surrounds Florence.
I slip out without Tom and Abigail noticing; something tells me they’d rather I stay and help unpack boxes but I couldn’t think of anything worse. The sun is beating outside and I’m not about to spend the day indoors.
A few blocks pass before I come across a path leading from the sidewalk into the edge of what looks to be a pretty expansive forest. Climbing over a bunch of overgrown bushes, I break through into the woods and begin to pace the track further into the trees. It’s much more peaceful than the road; since people can’t really drive now, everybody walks everywhere. Work, shopping for groceries, visiting friends or family: it’s all much harder now. The government have started shuttles in some places; that’s how we transferred from the airport. They’re electric-powered buses, but they’re only serving important routes like airports and hospitals.
The path soon turns into a steep incline, and beads of sweat begin to trickle down my forehead. Though it was sweltering, even in the shade of the trees, the steep climb wasn’t wearing me out. Another benefit of this condition, I guess, is that I don’t seem to tire easily.
As I near the top of the path, the ground levels out and the trees begin to break away into a clearing, though it doesn’t stretch far, cut short by a massive drop to a lake below.
“Woah,” I say, to no one in particular. The view is amazing.
“Impressive isn’t it?” a voice behind me agrees.
She’s beautiful. The first thing I notice is her hair, brunette though shining a brilliant red beneath the suns glow. It looks as though she’s come the same way I have from the road.
“Were you following me?” I say, eyeing her clothes. She’s wearing denim shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt with what looks like some kind of band logo on it. I wasn’t much of a music fan. Her legs look like they’ve taken a beating from the thorn bushes that shroud the path.
“Ha,” she says, walking past me to the cliff edge. She spins around energetically. “Well, maybe. Thought I’d see what you’re all about since we’re going to be neighbours now.”
Every street seems equally as quiet as I walk toward the centre of town. Twice I see a lone man or woman, too distant to make out, running. From what, I don't know. They're gone before they can hear my shouts. The sun has virtually disappeared behind the buildings on the western side of the city. The faint rumble of thunder threatens the onset of an evening storm, though there's barely a cloud in the sky. No, not thunder, the sound of a helicopter approaching from the same direction. Though the airport also lies over that way, it's unusual to hear anything leaving the runways anymore; bans on air travel were among the most recent of sanctions, not long after I left Portland. That came after the restrictions on car travel, and people are practically confined to their home towns now, short of walking or cycling on the highways. It was an eerie thought, empty highways stretching across the country with barely a vehicle on them; it sends a chill down my spine.
After walking for a while I reach the vast bridge that carries the Oregon Coast Highway over the Siuslaw River, which encircles the southern and western sides of the city. Weird. I squint ahead, blinded slightly by the setting sun that has broken past the few buildings at the city’s edge and can make out several vehicles sitting stationary at the entrance to the bridge. They’re the same military Humvees that took Rachel earlier, a few soldiers congregating in front of them. Then another engine approaches, this one behind me. I scan quickly for an escape route, some sort of cover, but the road is too wide. I know they've seen me already.
Last edited by beastofburden; 03-06-2012 at 13:28.