Of Glory

[Mercury]

Title: Of Glory (Working)

Rating: M15

Rated for: Mature Language, Graphic Violence, Sexual Contents and Drug Use

Critique level: Encouraged

 

Note: Before I begin, I wish it to be known that this is a rewrite of an earlier story (same themes and characters. The setting was altered). Like its predecessor this is a rough draft. Actually, since I altered everything I'm toying with how I want to open my story. This happens to be the opening I like the most so far, but I feel like its lacking something. I'm sure you'll find grammatical and spelling errors. I didn't go over this closely.

 

I'm more interested in content critique and if what I've written has enough worth to read from start to finish.

 

Normally, when I write chapters their at least 50 pages long, which makes me wonder how I'm going to translate that onto here without braking the site.

 

If they're any questions, please don't hesitate to ask them.

 

Now, onto the meat of the matter.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Allen sat in his lawn chair with his elbows on his knees, cradling his head. His head spun, everything seemed foreign. Through slits in his hands, he watched people mill about his backyard. They were here for a celebration. It was his and Evelyne's anniversary. Most ignored him and returned to their beers and drinks. His wife had come and gone; he had not told her what caused his catastrophic shift of mood. He couldn't. The words formed at his lips, but were choked in his throat. It felt to him as if his world had just ended. Years ago, he reflected he would have been elated to hear this news. To have a chance to go to war and prove himself, to play soldier and defend his country, her people and his loved ones. But now? Now all he thought about was his pregnant wife, the deaths that were to come and even his own. Who would care for Eve should he die? She was a strong woman, stubborn and even bullheaded. He didn't deny this. Her strength was derived from him. He grimaced from beneath his hands. He felt foolish for thinking how unfair the world was. He was thirty-four and old and wise enough to know that nothing was fair or equal. And yet he heard himself utter those words.

 

What exactly had ruined his day? To be fair it was a series of events that started early that morning. Allen sat there as mosquitoes and other insects buzzed around his head and thought. The cold beer that he'd grabbed ten minutes ago was warming in the evening sun, but he could not bring himself to drink it. Even though he wanted nothing more than to forget and if alcohol would allow him this escape, he would take it. Not yet. Not yet. He grimaced.

 

 

 

The alarm buzzed incessantly in the darkness. Allen rolled over and away from Evelyne. Still mostly asleep a heavy hand fell upon the electronic clock rendering it silent. The man slowly forced himself to sit up. Groggily, he looked at the time; it read three thirty in the morning. A heavy hand ran through his thin mess of hair, cut short because of regulation. A hair cut he carried for thirteen years. He sighed and pushed himself onto his feet, stretched and then fell to the floor, bracing at the last minute as his hands caught his fall just inches from the ground. He began to knock out a series of pushups. This woke him up in the mornings and also helped to keep him in shape. If he missed a morning he would do more the next morning. Because if he didn't, he knew he would skip more mornings. Eventually, he wouldn't do this anymore. Eventually, he would stop working out altogether. It was a slippery slope for him, but he knew himself well enough to realize that due diligence paid off. Within two minutes he'd pumped out eighty-two and then rolled over onto his back. A slight ring of sweat had formed around the collar of his neck and under his arms.

 

As he spread his legs apart and laced his hands together behind his head, he began to feel that adrenaline rush. A soft smile was all he gave as he began jolting forward and then falling back. Another two minutes passed before he'd stopped at one-hundred-and-four. A few heavy puffs of breath and he sat upright, trying to regulate his breathing. He stood after a moment and walked with heavy feet to the bathroom down the hall. Stepped into the shower and began washing himself. Afterwards, he walked back to his bedroom sopping wet with no towel to find his wife sitting up in the bed. He smiled softly at her.

 

”œGood morning, darling,”

[Tiana Calthye]

Heya, this your first post here in the Library? For some reason I want to think I've seen you around before, but I can't remember for certain. Welcome! I'd like to give you a resounding welcome to the flock and suggest making your posts between 3-7 pages in Word long. Don't worry about chapter breaks, just chose decent scene breaks... I'm sure you'll be able to see ways to split up your scenes to read comfortably.

 

For crit for now I'm going to suggest you turn off Word's grammar auto-correct if you have it on, because some of your errors seem related to the fact that it's actually pretty stupid about certain narrative grammar styles. The big one is that when you end a sentence in quote marks with a question mark or an exclamation point, Word thinks that's a sentence end but the next word, if it's not a proper noun, needs to be non-capitalized still.

 

Like these.

 

”œI don't know. Why would you be mad at me?”

[Mercury]

Yeah, its MSWord, but I don't know how to turn it off. Thanks for pointing that out though, I've dealt with it for so long I've grown used to it. In the coming days or weeks, I'll update this with a new version and hope that I get some solid feedback again. Thanks a bunch, Tiana!

 

Oh, and you've probably seen me before because I am also Evander and Syn. I just forgot their log-on passes and haven't tried to figure it out. I figured a fresh start might be better, anyhow.