Her smile faltered for a second.

A woman in a selfishly clean white suit with a matching wide brimmed hat sat in an elegant chair facing the large, honey-stained windows that ebbed the setting suns' light into the once glamorous penthouse. It was undeniable whoever lived in the old hotel had power, even now as it lay falling apart. It happened to be the only building in the small city that had electricity for a start, and every night as the irradiated citizens lit their brahmin-fat candles and rusted, faulty gas lamps they gazed out their askew windows in awe at the old hotel towering above them. Apart from having electricity, the hotel also boasted a disused swimming pool and spa area, several restored luxury suites for special guests and reinforced windows in case anything were to happen to the ill defended town that had sprung up around the hotel in the years following the war. The name of the city and the hotel had long been forgotten of course, which is strange considering the rarely-seen ruler of this utopia was said to have an insatiable hunger for anything pre-war, from clothes to technology to old phonebooks.

The ruler in question sat up in her chair and lightly drummed her painted nails on the small yellow book on her lap. One of the several men standing opposite her desk looked at the floor at this gesture, which was just what Lady Sinclair wanted. She uncrossed her legs and gently - ever so gently - stood up, laying the small book carefully in the seat behind her before turning around and looking at the men, smiling sarcastically from under her hat.
"I'm not happy, Flin." She said in a sickly sweet voice that would force any grown man to cry. "You promised me this wouldn't happen again. You said you knew what you were doing." Her voice echoed in the high-ceiliinged room but the men remained silent. "I gave you another chance, and you failed." Her smile gently transformed into a face of indifference, and then into a frown. It was diffucult to tell what the rest of her face looked like under the wide brimmed hat she was wearing. "But I'm a generous woman, so I'll give you another chance. Find it, or I'll find someone who will." With that she stepped past the desk and started walking to the double doors at the end of the room. As she brushed past the men they began to raise their heads and shuffle a bit.

"Th... Thank you, m'lady.." they muttered, just loud enough so she could hear.

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Just a taster, I felt bored and I've always wanted to write another Fanfiction. Who knows? I might even finish this one! ^_^

Looks good so far :twirl:

That would be totally awesome!

The first line was great, a nice hook, but then you promptly bored the hell out of me. Generally, I would not go off on a paragraph length description of the house and houses surrounding it in the first paragraph. I like to read, I love to read and when choosing a book I read the first couple paragraphs, if it can't keep my interest, I put it back. This would have gone back.

The problem lies in that you try to fill your readers head with too much detail too fast, you can reveal things about the hotel when you get the readers attention. This remind me of Demon Seed by Dean Koontz, the hotel part that is. His book takes place in a mansion, but he just doesn't start with the description, no, in fact the first two chapters hook you in, and then comes the description. And as times go on, you get little bits and pieces, fortifying this grand structure.

What I'm trying to say is hook us in first, then give us the lengthy descriptions.


When denoting who said what, put a comma instead of period at the end of the quote, like:



Generally, almost exclusively, ellipses have three dots.

Now that I'm done being a grammar Nazi, let me say that the story is promising(and yes, there are some that aren't) and it could turn out to be interesting. She reminded me of Allistar Tenpenny(I don't think I spelled that correctly), but I'm going to have to right to find out more I guess. So, keep it up.


Good Luck.

Yeah I like this, I have never read anything by you, but I want to.

Ohh, I see. Trickle the detail in so the reader isn't bombarded. I was kinda going for the "this is what it looks like, this is why..." feel because she wanted it to be so flashy that people would've automatically wanted to know more about it. Alrighty, thanks for the tips. ^_^

Part 1 up in a sec. I'm feeling creative.

Pretty decent intro. IMO. Got me somewhat interested; which is quiet an achievement. :thumbsup:

Part One - Goodbye leather sandals

The quiet rasping of knuckles on Fiona's bedroom door startled her awake. Instinctively she reached for the large baseball bat beside her bed which was almost as tall as she was and certainly too heavy for her to fight with. "Fiona?" A kind voice inquired from the other side of the door. "Are you awake?"
"Yes dad..." she replied, almost sighing with relief. She let the bat's handle slip out of her fingers and fall on to the bare wooden floor. "Come in."
"Sorry to wake you up so early, but it's a special day and I wanted everything to be perfect," The door creaked open on its' rusty hinges to reveal a short man with a full, toothy (if a little yellow) smile. He wore an ancient bathrobe over an equally old moth eaten suit and carried a rough wooden tray in his old hands. "Eat up dear," He grinned as he laid the tray down at Fiona's side before quickly rushing out of the room.

Fiona scowled at what lay in fornt of her: a chipped white plate; a few slices of half cooked ant meat and a small glass of partially purified water. It was better than her usual breakfast certainly but would still be considered trash by Lady Sinclair.

Lady Sinclair...

Thoughts suddenly flooded into Fiona's head: Lady Sinclair... Birthday... Festival... She bolted upright and ran out of the room, abandoning her makeshift breakfast in her untidy bedroom. She nearly lept down the stairs, which would have been useful considering the step second from the top had crumbled away and now served as a foot trap for unsuspecting visitors. Fiona was lucky and tripped on the edge of the crevasse, tumbling down the stairs and landing in a heap at the bottom. She bolted upright, forgetting the pain and headed straight for the door where her father was waiting.
"Come along dear, the festival has nearly started.. She'll be handing out gifts soon!" He said in an unusually high pitched voice that wouldn't have been uncommon for a girl Fiona's age. Quietly she followed her father through the maze of hallways out of their decaying apartment building and into the busy street below.

It was always diffucult finding a decent view of the balcony where Lady Sinclair gave her speech; it would probably have been easier to view it from the rooftop of any of the buildings in the city but everyone preferred to gather in the plaza. Fiona and her father managed to get a good spot this year on top of the old bus stop in front of the diner. Everybody waited in breathless anticipation for the speech.

There she was, from the large glass doors behind the grand balcony appeared a small honey yellow blob, Fiona could barely see her from the street but she knew that Lady Sinclair was likely wearing some exquisite gold dress and hat. She always wore hats.

"Hello citizens," Her cool voice brought silence upon everyone and every head turned up to meet her gaze. "So kind of you to join me today. How thoughtful of you to attend the celebrations." Some people cheered at this, but the blob shuffled a bit and silence was once again summoned. "On this day, several years ago, a struggling family living in post apocalyptic squalor gave birth to a baby girl in a shack. The little girl never screamed; never cried; always obeyed. That little girl speaks to you now. I want each and every one of you to know that with the right attitude, the right faith, you too can one day be like me. Thank you." Immediately after concluding her speech Lady Sinclair turned around and entered the hotel again, but not before recieving ear-splitting applause from her audience below.

"And now," came a tinny voice from the intercom system dotted around the street, "the gifts!"

The street erupted in activity as several men in perfectly preserved pre-war suits appeared on the same balcony Lady SInclair stood on. Fiona squinted to see them better, but they were just small black and white blobs in her eyes. Below her, people were rushing around and screaming which was evidence that the men had started throwing the gifts down at the people.

The gifts mainly consisted of old and broken Pre-War items that Lady Sinclair didn't care for anymore. Fiona watched as a man roared in delight as a clean bicycle with a front wheel missing fell on his head while the woman next to him let out a shriek of glee as she clutched a patchwork doll to her chest. Several boys ran under Fiona's feet carrying mugs of various sizes and designs while Fiona's father had managed to catch a large dustbin lid.

"This'll come in handy," he smiled, lifting it up to the sun to see the reflection "Maybe we could use it as a pot, or..." But Fiona didn't get a chance to hear what else her father would use the lid for, because at that moment a heavy medium-sized box had hit her square in the head and caused her to fall off the bus stop roof. Immediately Fiona jumped up again, afraid some greedy monster would stop by and retch the gift from her hand. The very thought made her clutch the box tighter to her chest. She started running home, pausing every few seconds to avoid colliding with other people playing with their new gifts. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she reached the shabby apartment doorway and decided it would be worth a peek inside the box.

Breathlessly, Fiona lifted the cardboard lid to reveal a pair of perfectly pristine red Pre-War trainers. This must be a mistake... she thought greedily to herself, Nobody would want to throw these away...

Immediately she threw off her tattered leather sandals and carefully slipped on the shoes, carelessly tucking the laces into the sides before strutting around in her new trainers.

She felt like Lady Sinclair.

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Fiona is the main character. I'll be back on Lady Sinclairs' story tomorrow.

the door. "Are you awake?"
"Yes dad.." she replied, almost sighing with relief. She let the bat's handle slip out of her fingers and fall on to the bare wooden floor. "Come in."

Generally it is better to space out the dialogue, like so:



Not like it's a problem, but if you get into a heavily dialogued segment, then it will be an issue, just keep it in mind. And oh, ellipses, three dots.



Add a comma here



or like this



Other than me being nitpicky, good job. I'm now intrigued, I now want to read, not forcing myself through it. I was reading the throwing of the "junk" and at first I was like "what?" as the man roared with delight when that bicycle hit him. But then it dawned and me and made me smiled, the way you captured it was wonderful. I'm no wondering who this Lady Sinclair is, so keep it up.

Good Luck.

D'oh! Keep forgetting that! >_>

Yeah, I liked the gift bit. It made me laugh so I put it in there. I really wanted to reflect how much Lady Sinclair and pre-war objects affected these people, even if it's something silly like a lid or a broken bicycle.

Woops, sorry. Had a few science exams and stuff. Here we go, the other half should be up soon.

Part Three and a half - Do unto others
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Lady Sinclair smiled at the beaming faces surrounding her. She loved good news, and this was the best since...

Well, since...

It wasn't important. She had business to do. It wasn't a long walk to the new area but she couldn't be seen by the commoners, they'd panic or riot or loot the hotel. Not that I need the hotel anymore, she thought. I'll never need to see that dump again. She swirled the idea around in her head, savouring it as one would a fancy wine or piece of cheese.

Secret underground tunnels were often used by her servants for several purposes, none of them particuarly pleasant. Before the war they were drainage sewers of some sort but all grates had been clogged from years of debris and neglect. Lady Sinclairs' manservant Lenoard was used to the dim light of the tunnels and led her along at a slow pace. Most of her servants had left the hotel shortly after the birthday celebrations, she wanted the new area to be perfect by the time she arrived.

She barely noticed the small group stopping, she was salivating at the thought of what lay just beyond the tunnel. It took a few shots of a gun to snap her into reality.

"Ms Sinclair, I must ask you to come with me. Quickly." Leonard was tugging her sleeve restlessly, his usually indifferent face rigid with fear. She followed silently, ducking occasionally when the bullets sounded particuarly close. Soon they both reached the large door comprised of thick steel shutters to prevent water escaping into the sewer office above. Several men were waiting to permanantly seal the door behind them in case they were being followed.

"What on earth happened back there?" Lady Sinclair snapped at Leonard while he attempted to straighten his sleeves.

"I, uh... I believe the people are rebelling." He replied bluntly, knowing that his mistress wouldn't mind. Everyone she needed was either in the new area or in the process of being transported.

"Forget them. We have work to do."

Yeah! I missed the freshness this unique story provided. I'm getting a little sleepy so I'm going to try and do a review in five minutes.

A riveting chapter once again, my friend.

Your word play actually makes me smile, I just find it some unique and clever that I can't help but grin. I actually have never had a story do that to me before, but there is firsts to everything I suppose.

Other then your brilliant story structure, amazing character development, and delightful dictation...I'd have to say commas are you Achilles heel. There needed her and there, to separate some things, no big deal, just minor flaws. But in a precious gem, in a tiny scratch will mar it's beauty. Don't forget in dialogue that you need a comma to replace the period when dictating who is saying what.

"I see," I said.

Instead of

"I see." I said.

Minor. Tiny. But none the less...

Good Luck.

More, more! I want to see what this self-righteous woman is up to and how the little protagonist will get involved!

I like the creativity you put into the sewers, making them a sort of base if I read that right.

I'm glad you guys like it. ^_^

Part Four - True Colours
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Fiona sat up suddenly and squinted around her room. It was dark, very dark. She reached next to her and turned on the small white lamp that rested on her beside table. Suddenly the room was bright and Fiona could see what she was expecting: A clean, white room with matching furniture in serveral shades of grey.

It was comforting to see her bedroom again after that horrible nightmare. It keeps happening She thought, The same dream over and over, what could it mean?. She rubbed her temples, appreciating how clean her hands and face were compared to the dirt and grease that never seemed to come off in her dreams. It's probably nothing, go back to sleep. She lay her head down on her pillow and was about to switch the lamp off again when she heard a loud bump and a muffled shout coming from the hall.

It didn't take long for Fiona to find the source of the noise; in the hallway beyond her room was a small and very dirty boy dressed in a peculiar outfit of ripped jeans and a filthy hawaiin shirt that was several sizes too big. In one hand he held a candlestick with several glass shards glued to it to form some kind of club, in the other he held a walkie-talkie. He glanced up at Fiona and rested the club against a wall so he could offer one oily hand to shake. "Is this your house? Nice place." He said as he produced a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I, uh, what?" Fiona mumbled, ignoring the gesture. "No, I mean, get out my house!" She said as she rubbed her eyes. She was very tired and very confused. This was the last thing she needed, she had school tomorrow.

"Name's Roger. I just need to do something and then I'll be off. Then you can feel free to stay here or come with me. I'll make this quick." Suddenly Roger darted forwards and jabbed at Fiona's eyes. She shut them but was too slow. It didn't hurt, in fact her eyes felt slightly better than they had before. "You can open your eyes any second now." He said quickly, "We don't have all night."

Slowly, very slowly, Fiona opened her eyes. She wasn't blinded, thankfully, and she could still see properly. But she could see in colour. Bright, vivid colour.

"C... Colour?" The word was alien to her tongue but felt very familiar. Suddenly she realised she'd seen colour before, in her dreams. Before she could respond further Roger patted her hard accross the back.

"Atta' girl!" He said, grinning his strange smile again, "Most kids don't even remember the word, much less what it means." In his palm he held two transparent half-spheres, no doubt what had been in Fiona's eyes a second ago. Before she could enquire Roger picked up his club and cocked his head to the side, his eyes darting like ping-pong balls. "Come on, we don't have long."

"Wait! Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?!" Fiona snapped, all tiredness being replaced by more confusion. Roger turned and spoke as he walked briskly away:

"It's not 2077, it's 2277. There's been a nuclear war and you've been brainwashed by that evil witch. Now hurry up, they'll be here soon!"