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Twisted Fate Part 1, REVISED

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Old 12-08-2011, 09:02 AM
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Default Twisted Fate Part 1, REVISED


The shadows that danced across the stark white walls did nothing to settle her rolling stomach. She closed her eyes, then dug deeper into the feathery soft bed and willed herself to sleep, when fast footsteps outside her door startled her awake. Frightened, she buried her head in the soft fleece covers and trembled. A bright light flooded the room as a scream rose out of her mouth; then she remembered papa was in jail and couldn’t hurt her anymore. Her fifth foster mom, Joanna Coldbath, padded into the overly-large room and kissed her on the forehead. As Joanna tucked her in a little tighter she thought back to the rumors she heard about how Constance’s mama died at the hands of her husband; privately it broke Joanna’s heart. She knew her high society friends would never accept this dear child, but she had her own reasons for taking her in. She lightly caressed Constance's golden blonde hair and whispered “Goodnight Constance, sweet dreams.” A little voice whispered back “thank you, and, please, don’t turn the lights off.” Secure in bed, at least for tonight, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

The soft hues of morning gently aroused Constance from sleep; her eyes swept the room. For a second, she didn’t know where she was, then she remembered she been brought to another foster home yesterday. Not wanting to leave the cocoon of her toasty warm and comfy bed the aroma of bacon and eggs enticed her towards the kitchen. “Good morning, how do you like your eggs, over easy OK?” the cook asked.

She stared at the delicate pink flower plate loaded up with toast points, two eggs and a pile of crispy bacon. She didn’t think she’d ever drank Orange juice from a crystal goblet or had real butter shaped like a flower on a tiny dish. Her eyes widened in anticipation as she began to dig into the food in front of her. Suddenly nauseous, she laid her fork down and let the tears flow. She remembered how her young, pretty mama made this exact breakfast every Sunday when they had plenty of money and before papa lost his job and turned bad. She smiled at the memory of her older brother, and the two younger twins sitting at their table eating, laughing and sharing stories. Propelled on by the memory she wiped away the tears then plowed through the rest of the meal until she ate her fill and couldn’t breathe.
After she finished eating, dutifully, Constance picked up her dishes and carried them into the kitchen, thanked the cook for the best breakfast she’d had in a long time, then she put her dishes into the dishwasher, like her mama taught her. The cook gently put her rough hand on the girl’s shoulder and told her “it’s my job to clean up after the family, so just leave them on the table, OK?”

A rap on the solid oak door sent a shot through Constance’s nerves. Millie her maid, informed her Mrs. requested a tea at 10:00 a.m. precisely, and she shouldn’t be late. She remembered, clearly, how her last foster mom kicked her out after only one night and prayed she'd get to stay here, at least another night, anyway. Sadly, she dug out her paper bag from the back of the closet still packed with her meager belongings; she took Peaches, the rag doll her mama made and gently cuddled with her as she waited.

At precisely 10a.m she trudged down stairs, Peaches still cradled in her arms, and then made her way to the library while Mimi, the downstairs maid, announced her. “Constance” Mrs. began. ”I wanted to talk with you about your schooling. Your sister Leigh goes to the most prestigious school in the county, unfortunately, you’ll attend public school in Appleton. “Joseph, your driver, will take you at promptly at 8 a.m. and pick you up at exactly 3p.m. is that understood?” Constance nervously nodded. They wear polyester uniforms and I received yours today.” She held up the brown plaid, pleated skirt, a dull beige button down shirt and a brown blazer, pinched between two fingers like its ugliness would taint her. “Lovely aren’t they?” she smirked.
Constance’s stared at her new foster mom, “What’s wrong with it?” she asked “I think it’s kinda cute.” Joanna, stunned by the girl’s reaction, stood up tall with her hands on her hips, looked down at her and in a clipped tone replied “Well, I can see we don’t have the same taste in clothing” she stalked out of the room, shaking her head. Constance grinned while she caressed the fabric with her fingers. It was brand new, she couldn’t believe her luck; in her short life she couldn’t remember ever wearing anything brand new.


Last edited by CCStorywriter; 12-09-2011 at 08:09 AM..
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Old 12-08-2011, 09:44 AM
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The first line is somewhat confusing, as you have "The shadows that danced against across the stark white walls did nothing to settle her rolling stomach."
Is this the beginning of the the story? It kind of just throws you in, without much reference to who the many characters you introduce are, and there are a lot of ideas at once. What is the perspective you are writing from? Are you following Constance only or everyone's thoughts?
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Old 12-08-2011, 09:52 AM
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To begin please enter a empty line between paragraphs, this greatly aids readability in online formats as it spaces out the text and thus does not result in a wall of text.



The shadows that danced against across the stark white walls did nothing to settle her rolling stomach. She closed her eyes, then dug deeper into the feathery soft bed and willed herself to sleep, when fast footsteps outside her door startled her awake. Frightened, she buried her head in the soft fleece covers and trembled. A bright light flooded the room as a scream rose out of her mouth; then she remembered papa was in jail and couldn’t hurt her anymore. Her fifth foster mom, Joanna Coldbath, padded into the overly-large room and kissed her on the forehead. As she Joanna (To make it easier to follow who is who as the usage of she and her are confusing as it stands.) tucked her in a little tighter she thought back to the rumors she had heard about how Constance’s poor mama died at the hands of her husband; privately it broke Joanna’s heart. She knew her high society friends would never accept this dear child, but she had her own reasons for taking her in. She lightly caressed her Constance (Same reason as before) golden blonde hair and whispered “Goodnight Constance, sweet dreams.” A little voice whispered back “thank you, and, please, don’t turn the lights off.” Secure in bed, at least for tonight, she Constance (Same reason as before) fell into a dreamless sleep.

The soft hues of morning gently aroused Constance from sleep; her eyes swept the room. For a second, she didn’t know where she was, then she remembered that she been brought to another foster home yesterday. Not wanting to leave the cocoon of her toasty warm and comfy bed the aroma of bacon and eggs enticed her towards the kitchen.(It feels like you are missing a bit here, as right now you have two opposing statements.) “Good morning, how do you like your eggs, over easy OK?” the cook asked.

She stared at the delicate pink flower plate loaded up with toast points, two eggs and a pile of crispy bacon. She didn’t think she’d ever drank Orange juice from a crystal goblet or had real butter shaped like a flower on a tiny dish. Her eyes widened in anticipation as she began to dig through in to the food in front of her. Suddenly nauseous, she laid her fork down and let the tears flow. She remembered how her young, pretty mama made this exact breakfast every Sunday when they had plenty of money and before papa lost his job and turned bad. She smiled at the memory of her older brother, and the two younger twins sitting at their table eating, laughing and sharing stories. Propelled on by the memory she wiped away the tears then plowed through the rest of the meal until she ate her fill and couldn’t breathe.

After she finished eating, dutifully, Constance picked up her dishes and carried them into the kitchen, thanked the cook for the best breakfast she’d had in a long time, then she put her dishes into the dishwasher, like her mama taught her. The cook gently put her rough hand on the girl’s shoulder and told her “iIt’s my job to clean up after the family, so just leave them on the table, OK?”

A rap on the solid oak door sent a shot through Constance’s nerves. Millie her maid, informed her Mrs. requested a tea at 10:00 a.m. precisely, and she shouldn’t be late. She remembered, clearly, how her last foster mom kicked her out after only one night and prayed she'd get to stay here, at least another night, anyway. Sadly, she dug out her paper bag from the back of the closet still packed with her meager belongings; she took Peaches, the rag doll her mama made and gently cuddled with her as she waited.

At precisely 10a.m she trudged down stairs, Peaches still cradled in her arms, and then made her way to the library while Mimi, the downstairs maid, announced her. “Constance” Mrs. began. ”I wanted to talk with you about your schooling. Your sister Leigh goes to the most prestigious school in the county, unfortunately, you’ll attend public school in Appleton.Joseph, your driver, will take you at promptly at 8 a.m. and pick you up at exactly 3p.m. is that understood?” Constance nervously nodded. They wear polyester uniforms and I received yours today.” She held up the brown plaid, pleated skirt, a dull beige button down shirt and a brown blazer, pinched between two fingers like its ugliness would taint her. “Lovely aren’t they?” she smirked.

Constance’s stared at her new foster mom, “wWhat’s wrong with it?” she asked “I think it’s kinda cute” Joanna, stunned by the girl’s reaction, stood up tall with her hands on her hips, looked down at her and in a clipped tone replied “Well, I can see we don’t have the same taste in clothing” she stalked out of the room, shaking her head. Constance grinned while she caressed the fabric with her fingers. It was brand new, she couldn’t believe her luck; in her short life she couldn’t remember ever wearing anything brand new.
You have a short change in point of view from Constance to Joan at the beginning which is sudden and disorientating. I also have to question the tea at 10 am as there was no tea mentioned when the scene arrived. The set up of an apparently poor foster child in an very rich household without explanation is a little jarring, a personal maid and driver on the day she arrives, no apparent time to settle in and adjust? Or so it seemed to me at least.

The reference to the sister Leigh (I assume Joanna daughter), and the way it is said feels badly done, like a line added in after the fact to make Joanna seem more rude, prudish, I-am-better-than-you-attitude to paint her as a character to despise, it is also rather cliché.


I think you can do a lot better than this to convey the same material, the conversations in particualr seem blunt and short.
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