November 19, '16 Writer's Log

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narniac101
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November 19, '16 Writer's Log

Post by narniac101 » Wed Nov 23, 2016 1:13 am

~ Writer’s Group Opens ~

Kristi: Hello world
Ariel.of.Narnia: hey!
Ariel.of.Narnia: I have part two of my story, but am working on part three as well. Wanna go first?

[Kristi shares, removed by request]

Kristi: Share yours?
Ariel.of.Narnia: Again, super-rough draft, haven't read it over. Any edits will be done on the fly here

~ Ariel.of.Narnia shares ~

Ariel.of.Narnia: Shells and gunfire wove in and out of Charlie’s consciousness until he finally found himself able to think again. Had he fallen asleep at all? It sure felt like it. If nothing else, he didn’t recall feeling any pain for the last bit. Of course, it flared right up again when he shifted his position. He started again at the sight of his fallen comrade– Butch Campbell, was his name, Charlie recalled now. Butch of the broad shoulders and even broader grin. Butch of the keen eye and steady hand. Butch the strong in body and even stronger in heart. Butch Campbell, the man who saved Charlie’s life, perhaps at the cost of his own.

Charlie remembered being hit, then a shout and a hand pulling him down. He didn’t remember what followed; he must have blacked out. But he did remember that he was in the open at the time, right on the surface. Butch must have dragged him into this hole for a semblance of shelter before he lost his own life.

The quiet was a relief from the constant noise of war, but Charlie found no comfort in it. There was nothing to concentrate on. Three places on his abdomen stuck him with invisible needles when he breathed. Thin wisps of sickly grey blew over head every now and again, fading into the even greyer sky. His broken arm throbbed with every heartbeat. A few yards away, flames licked up what remained of a tree. His right leg was the worst: Charlie was sure that it would have shrieked at him if it had a mouth of its own. The best he could do was moan on its behalf, but that always triggered the needle-pricking in his torso. And then there was Butch. Butch would have broken the silence. The best Charlie could do was give a humourless chuckle on his behalf.

He laughed. Laughed for Butch’s wasted fitness and spirit. Laughed for his own pathetic survival. Laughed for the madness that drove men to end each other.
His aches subsided and even his leg’s voiceless screams quieted. His eyelids drooped. /“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”/ Another dark gurgle released itself from his throat. As a child, he had imagined great, white-winged angels carrying the souls of the dead in their arms to Heaven. /“If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”/
But what would set foot on the unholy ground of Hacksaw Ridge?

(break, part three)
Voices murmured, far, far away. Soft footfalls carried them closer, little by little. The angels had come after all and Charlie was going home, home to Heaven at last. Should he call out to them? No, they would know to collect him. He would wait patiently and simply look upon them until they came for him. But try as he might, Charlie could not pry his eyes open. His eyelids were just too heavy, his will too weak.

The voices were nearly on top of him now, but he could not understand them. Perhaps that was to be expected. Didn’t the Apostle Paul speak of the “tongues of s”? There was a rustle to his right: one of them must have taken up Butch. But no heavenly hand took up Charlie. Their footsteps passed him by.
He tried to call after them, but he could not summon his voice. He tried to reach for them, but his arm protested vehemently.
If he was dead, shouldn’t he no longer feel pain?

Before he could decide, a shout jolted him from his stupor. The sharp rap of gunfire that followed reawakened every stab of pain his body had to offer. Charlie forced his eyes open.

Opposite him, on the rim of his hole, were a few men whose backs were turned to him. Charlie didn’t know what God’s angels looked like, but he was certain they didn’t look like gun-toting Japanese soldiers. The only angels out here were angels of death.

His Sunday school recitation came back to him: /“‘A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.’”/
And just like the children of Israel all those years ago, he’d been passed over. (break, part four not yet written)


Kristi: meep
Kristi: *claps*
Ariel.of.Narnia:]
Kristi: I think there's a little cleanup to do here:
Kristi: He started again at the sight of his fallen comrade– Butch Campbell, was his name, Charlie recalled now. Butch of the broad shoulders and even broader grin. Butch of the keen eye and steady hand. Butch the strong in body and even stronger in heart. Butch Campbell, the man who saved Charlie’s life, perhaps at the cost of his own.
Kristi: you don't need a comma in "Butch Campbell was his name"
Ariel.of.Narnia: whoop
Kristi: And I would consider changing "Butch the strong in body" to "Butch, strong in body"
Ariel.of.Narnia: mmhm
Kristi: very minor things. I like it.
Kristi: Who did come for Butch?
Ariel.of.Narnia: *makes a note to clarify that*
Ariel.of.Narnia: I'll have to put in something about how the Japanese moved his body. flipped him over or something
Kristi: Seems late for his side to get his body out if they were losing.
Kristi: yeah.
Kristi: And if it had been angels, then Charlie should have seen him again after he thought he'd been taken
Ariel.of.Narnia: *grins and keeps quiet*
Ariel.of.Narnia: yeah, I'm gonna have to mention Butch again
Kristi: Was he the hero of the film?
Ariel.of.Narnia: no, they're both OCs
Kristi: Oh, ok
Kristi: Well I think you're doing a great job with them
Ariel.of.Narnia: if you have the time, can you tell me what it is you like about what I'm doing?
Kristi: I felt like I was right there with the character, but it didn't feel too graphic at the same time
Kristi: I liked the verses, they didn't feel forced
Kristi: I was less confused this time that I was by the falling tree
Kristi: ooc and
Ariel.of.Narnia: oh, okay! That makes more sense. Thank you for your comments! I'll go over it again before I write part four.

~ Writer’s dismissified ~
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Thank you, Hobbit!
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