What do you think about my story?
Good Evening. I am A.B.Holt. Though I may seem terrible now, I was once young and carefree like you. There was an event in my youth that scared me so deeply, it turned me into the monster I am today.
In the town of Holtville where I once lived, there was a very quiet, nice and seemingly lonely old man named Dominic whom I would often see. I would see him food shopping alone, slowly and carefully; I would see him at the post office, checking his empty Post Office box for mail; I would see him eating dinner alone at the local diner, without a book or newspaper to keep him company. I would always politely say hello and he'd force a smile. Then, we'd part ways.
The only time the old man had a spark of life in him was when two children, who I assumed to be his grandchildren, would visit every year around the holidays. He would take them around town with him, a young boy holding his right hand and a young girl holding his left. The children looked like twins, beautiful blonde carbon copies of each other, with the saddest smiles I had ever seen. They were reminiscent of the sadness I saw on the old man's face when he was without them.
Despite their melancholy auras, the children were wide-eyed and amazed, always excited about their grandfather's world and touching everything: the silky haired dogs that would stroll by on the street, the rough brick of the old court house on Main Street, and even the grass in the park. These curious, sad children seemed to make the old man's life light up.
I worked for the gas company. It wasn't a glamorous job, but I was good at what I did, and I was able to be out on the town for my work day, reading meters and making house calls. On a particular day in the spring, I drove up to a modest house on Beta Street to do a regular check of the house's meter.
I knocked on the front door of the house, and after a long pause, the cracking, peeling door slowly opened. I saw Dominic standing in the doorway, holding the hands of his two grandchildren as always. I recognized the children immediately, but thought it strange they were visiting during the summer. I smiled brightly and said hello, making a small joke for the sake of the children and asking for access to the man's basement to read his meter.
The old man tensed up when he heard my request. The children just stared at me the entire time, their white blond hair shining and their blue eyes oddly lifeless. I especially noticed the children's Heads, which did not seem normal. The man sternly told me to return the next day to see the meter. He was busy working in the basement and couldn't be bothered to shut down his shop for a simple meter reading. I agreed, and the children continued to stare at me as their grandfather closed the door. I thought I faintly heard the sound of a baby crying as I walked down the front stairs.
To save time, I decided to see if I could view the meter through the basement window in the man's back yard. So as not to bother him, I quickly crept around back and bent down to peer through the basement windows hidden behind bushes. To my surprise, I saw his two grandchildren sitting at a large table, one of them reading from a book, and one pouring blood into A Goblet. How could they be down in the basement absorbed in whatever they were doing, when I’d seen them just seconds before at the front door?
With no meter in sight, I pressed my face against the glass to see deeper into the basement. The entire house smelled like formaldehyde. Just then, Dominic came down the stairs, still holding the hands of his two grandchildren. Now, as I peered horrified into the basement window, I saw two sets of twins who were identical. The man immediately put to work the two twins he had brought down into the basement. It seemed they were doing scientific experiments, and all four children were lifeless and stiff. They didn't seem like normal children.
I pushed open the old basement window a crack so I could see a little further into the dark room, and what I found was decrepit. There were two giant cages, one on each side of the basement, each filled with children. About 20 girls, all identical to the children I had seen before with their wind colored hair and blank eyes, were standing still in a cage on the left. On the right, about 20 blonde, sad boys were standing in a similar cage. Above the girls' cage was a sign that read "Isabelle," above the boys', "Adam." As I stared, horrified, at the caged children, they all perked up slightly at the same time as if they could feel my horrified gaze on their backs.
Then, entirely in unison, all 40 children turned slowly around, raised their little heads, and moved their eyes up towards the window where I was spying. 80 eyes met mine with the same blank, innocent stare in every one of their dark gazes. Dominic, aware of the distraction his children had found, paused. After a long second, he jerked his head and made eye contact with me.
Unfortunately - I stopped at the end of paragraph four - if a questionn extends beyond a single page - I stop reading !
wow....that was quiet capturing. What happens next??
you are an amazing story teller..
Don't think I hate you, but the story is good, but not amazing. You won't get published if it's only good. I mean it gets better, after the first couple of paragraphs but you might want to rethink the start.
The starting isn't the greatest:
"Good Evening. I am A.B.Holt. Though I may seem terrible now, I was once young and carefree like you. There was an event in my youth that scared me so deeply, it turned me into the monster I am today."
Pretend that you aren't the writer. Would you read a book like that? I mean it is doing the rest justice. I can see that the rest is brilliant but the start doesn't grab my attention, and that will affect you later on.
I would rewrite it like this:
"Isn't it weird how a person can change? You think you know yourself, but you change, sometimes. I was once young and carefree like you. When I was younger I wanted to be a dentist. What normal kid wants to be a dentist? I still can't believe it. It seems like eons ago. But, you know, one incident ... one stupid incident, can change everything."
I know it's a little rough but I'm not a writer. I'm sorry if my input is unwanted but I think you have great potential but the start doesn't reflect the rest of your work.
The next paragraph is all right but it still isn't good enough for the publishers who weed out the tiny mistakes:
"In the town of Holtville where I once lived, there was a very quiet, nice and seemingly lonely old man named Dominic whom I would often see. I would see him food shopping alone, slowly and carefully; I would see him at the post office, checking his empty Post Office box for mail; I would see him eating dinner alone at the local diner, without a book or newspaper to keep him company. I would always politely say hello and he'd force a smile. Then, we'd part ways."
I would rewrite it like this:
"I used to be called Andrew Holt. Before the monster within consumed me. I lived in a small town called 'Hooltville'. It wasn't much but it was home. There were many people there but I can remember someone distinctly. He was an old and quiet man; he seemed to be lonely; who detached himself from the rest of the town.
Sometimes, I would see him, taking his food home from the local supermarket. Other times, he would beat the post office." Then, the rest, for me is ok.
SORRY if i was too harsh
If you honestly wrote that yourself, I think it's really good. I would take that to a publisher for an evaluation. At least they can give you advice or an honest opinion.
Is there any more! Love it so far. You are an inspiring author. Some parts were a bit confusing (lol) but I wish you luck in the future.
Wow I was getting so sucked into that. Brilliant writing. I was also sad when it came to the end- I want to read more!
Certainly an interesting idea. It needs a bit of touching up here and there, a bit more novel-style writing, but the plot is intriguing.