about: Spoiler writing this for a scholastic competition, but i'm putting up the first chapter for some CnC if at all possible. based a little bit off of the runawaystuck au but from this chapter on it expands beyond that and becomes very much an original piece. names and such are probably going to change a lot. chapter one: Spoiler There were times when Alexander wanted, above all else, to fly. He wished to spread his wings and feel wind blow through his feathers, sing through his lungs, caress his face as he flew. The iron chains and dirty floors beneath the red-topped tents of the circus were, at times, suffocating. Here he could not breathe, could not taste, touch, smell, see, or hear. There were no bird whistles, no blue-button, doll-stuffing skies, and the only earth that rolled over his tongue was the grime once trampled beneath elephant feet that would cloud his mouth and nose when he finally hit the ground. There was no liberty in wrecking ball cuffs that hurled him night and night again from his high perch above the crowds that would watch him. There was no passion in fearful eyes that would scan these crowds, trying to decide which person would first laugh at his descent. There was no better word to describe the escape from wonder at intangibility to condescension at shame. Alexander was descending. Many days Alexander would tuck himself into a bony, feathery ball against the steel bars of his cage, nestle himself into the folds of a tattered blanket thrown to him with no care. Many evenings Alexander would gasp dust into his throat in place of water or food, lick the sidewalks for any crumb he could gather. Many nights Alexander would stand tall and defiant, tiers higher than any other mutant to walk his path. He would stare at his own reflection in the broken glass glued to twine and hung with cracked light bulbs that lit the big-top as if a golden nightmare. In these mirrors he could clearly see his freckled and scratched face. He could witness red eyes that would spark and blaze and then die into a roar of self-disappointing conformity as Boss would yell out his name and his disgusting malformation for the world to know. If he had a quarter for every time - but no, that would be asking far too much. With pennies and dimes he could buy the whole world as he knew it. This was no special performance. Arriane danced across the floor, winding her hips like clockwork and whispering all the words placed in her head by the monsters she said spoke to her in her dreams. Nia scampered and climbed up smooth poles and tough ropes alike, and was held by Ethan the strongman into the air as if (for she was) his treasure. Sarah spun her whip ‘round her body and lay her head against the tongue of the lion, listening to its wet breaths and letting one hand stroke the rail-thin ribs protruding from its sides. There were other mutants, too, of course. Tanner, the half-crab with hulking claws would be weighed into a glass box and forced to use his lungs to oxidize the water of the tank. Ivy, the half-wolf with soft ears would sniff be forced to sniff out her own food. Alexander would fall. Alexander would leap from his seat, rough talons and oily wings spread for the kill, only to be dragged from any possible heaven back to the ordinary world. The audience, in their stained cloth and scrap metal seats would laugh as the boy with crustacean arms gasped and bubbled and screamed without a splash. They would scream peals as the girl with chopped hair would bite the ground for any last hints of nourishment. Their eyes would tear with amusement as wide wings would crumple in strange arrangement at the feet of Boss who would then raise her stout cane and bring it across his face, yelling in her ever toneless voice, “Did little birdie fall from his nest?†It was nothing special, nothing new. The lights dimmed and the curtains fell. The crowds left, and one little boy stayed. Now, this little boy wasn’t anything special, either. Jonathan was another penniless runaway boy, snuck in to see the circus. Dark hair a mess beneath a ragged cap, hand-me-down clothes just a little too big, eyes blue and bright as a summer sky, he was the epitome of the regular boy. No one noticed him, and he watched everyone. Or, no one noticed him besides the boy who’d fallen (should he say the bird who’d fallen?). Perhaps the glint of his eyeglasses had caught the boy’s attention, or perhaps the amazement on his face? The second of locked attention between them burned the birdboy’s horrific face into Jonathan’s mind. As everyone began to leave the circus, leaving glass mugs and paper bags of peanut shells and popcorn kernels beneath the emptying seats, the little boy stayed and watched as Boss picked up the scrawny halfbreed and shoved him into his showcage as if he were a shirt being shoved into a suitcase at the last moment. These images stuck behind his eyes, Jonathan ran to hide amongst the circus people. He hid below their billowing rags and disguised himself with the convenient piece of felt he kept in his back pocket, just in case he needed a moustache. Not that he, as a runaway, had many occasions to use such a device, but he liked to stay prepared. In fact, just now he had everything he needed to carry out his plan. Except for the plan itself. As a king of japery and last-moment everything, the boy was quite sure that no matter how ill foreshadowed his actions may be he would succeed at whatever it was that he ended up doing about the birdish blond boy. With a determined glare behind his eyes, Jonathan crept closer and closer to where Alexander lay against the floor. Upon reaching where the cage sat, wheels creaking beneath it, Jonathan hid then whispered a quiet, "Hey." Alexander's eyes were shut, his mouth parted. Short breaths fell. Jonathan once more whispered, "Hey!" Then he reached a hand in and poked at Alexander's nearest shoulder. The bird boy's eyes jolted open, his blond lashes scratching at his lids. "Who are you?" He growled, his taloned hand grabbing hold of Jonathan's before the black-haired boy could retract it. "You shouldn't be here. Get out," he warned. "My name's Jonathan! You can call me John, though." "I said get out." "What's your name? And could you let go of my hand?" "Get out." Alexander let go. "I'm here to set you free." For a second only, Alexander's breath stopped. Free? That would mean he could fly. He could fly! He would fly. But the dangers were great. How would they get out unnoticed? The Jonathan boy was small, unassuming. Alexander had wings sprouting from his shoulder blades and his feet were those of a bird. There was no way for them to get out. His heart sunk. Momentarily his hopes had been high. "There's no way out," he explained, I've tried picking out and stuff." John's eyes shone. "I bet I can get you out." In his back pocket was a skeleton key - an old gift from a fellow who'd had a second. Alexander looked at it as the key was pulled out. "Boss will see us, she'll find us!" "No, she won't." Jonathan stuck the key into the lock. With a click he heard the key forming to the lock's shape. One turn, and the door swung open without a sound. Alexander watched this, and also kept his eyes open, watching for anyone to come upon them. Luckily, no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. "I don't know if-" "You can." John stepped forward, reaching out a hand to Alexander. With tentativeness apparent, Alexander slowly stepped out of the cage. The second his feet hit the ground, hope swelled in his chest. He was be free! He had been liberated. Smiling, Jonathan walked backwards, leading Alexander out. Their hands connected, the two boys began to sprint from the awful circus, Alexander hopping more than running to keep from tripping over his own feet. Once they set foot outside, Alexander spread his wings beneath the midnight moon. One, two, three flaps and a hop and he was in the air. Then again, and again until he was really flying. He was there beneath the cosmos, heaving his wings back and forth and he was flying. It was amazing. Jonathan watched, his face lit with happiness. The bird boy was new once more. But then, a strange thing happened. A brilliant flash of fire sparked from the horizon, and a melodic voice from behind whispered, "Things are changing." Jonathan whipped around, and the dancing girl from before was behind him with her eyes hidden beneath a hood. He could tell her by her lips, they were soft and round and red like a hard apple. "What do you mean by that?" He asked her, brows drooping to lay. She smiled, one hand reaching to his shoulder. "I can tell your future. Would you like that?" John didn't doubt her - he'd heard of women like her, resting in the nooks and crannies of society, always balancing as tightrope dancers between sane and slightly less. "What will I owe you in return? If you want the mutant back, you're talking to the wrong guy." "You look at this in all the wrong ways. I owe you a favor for setting my brother free." She lifted her hood, and the same strange eyes stared at him, the same blonde hair framed her face. "Are you not bound as well?" John asked, worry once more clouding him. "I am not bound. I am here, and I am there. I am constant." She smiled, sweeping her hand across the dark landscape. If by his own fault, John grinned. "I'd much rather a kiss, then, my lovely lady," he returned. Arriane sighed, leaning forward and pressing their lips together in a smooth, dry manner. It was only a moment, but Jonathan laughed as they pulled apart. "I will warn you though, boy. There is pain in the future." "I am willing to take it if there is such a beauty behind me. And, really, I haven't much better to be doing." John laughed again, holding his hand against Arriane's cheek for a moment, then letting go as Alex circled down towards. "Was it wonderful?" Jonathan asked, turning to meet Alexander. "I was just talking to," but as he turned to see Arriane she was gone. There was nothing left but the lights of the city beyond and of the circus. "I don't know what is wrong with you. But I'm indebted to you. As long as I am, I guess you better know me. I'm Alexander - and if we're on a nickname basis, Alex. Not bird boy or anything stupid like that. Alexander or Alex. Your choice." Alexander frowned as he talked, but his lips curved at the end.
You've got some good stuff here. Your story is already shaping up, and with a little smithing it'll be a knock-out. Lots of strong, visceral description helps get it started; the first few paragraphs are full of great phrases like "bony, feathery ball against the steel bars" and "gasp dust into his throat." Jonathan is interesting, and the little details about his belongings and his adaptability breathe life into the character. The way he treats Arianne has potential, though see my notes further down on suggestions there. In general the picture being painted makes me want more, which is a good sign when you're working with things like mutant bird-people, which has been done pretty thoroughly. While the story is interesting, the flow is lost at some points due to clerical errors. One thing you want to avoid is rapidly switching point of view; if I were you, I'd stay in Alexander's head for the first chapter and then switch to Jonathan's perspective for the next one, possibly revisiting some of the first chapter through his eyes. Remember your third-person limited. There's also the fact that I'm not 100% on Alexander being a mutant until mid-way through the second paragraph; I'm between that and thinking you're trying to tell a story from an ordinary bird's point of view. Might ought to solidify it earlier on, maybe with description of some explicitly human aspect of him. The story loses its chemistry somewhat in the last half; things are happening fast, jarringly so, and the events seem loosely connected. Arriane shows up pretty suddenly and doesn't really do much. What was the point of that flash of fire? What things are changing? Be careful with cryptic characters; no matter how badly you want to hide things from your readers, you also want to use their time efficiently and really internalize the sense of mystery. Maybe Arriane mentions that Alexander is special (besides being Birdman) or dangerous somehow, or that Jonathan has some kind of mark? I dunno, throwing ideas out there. The mystery has to be substantial, some tangible "something" that makes the reader want to learn more. To put it another way, a murder mystery that doesn't start with a body and a crime scene is going nowhere fast. Think also about dialogue; you have some good lines, but the characters go through some mood whiplash, from short and rough lines to long, flowery ones. I have a hard time thinking of Jonathan as a little boy when he says things like "Are you not bound as well?" and "I'd much rather a kiss, my lovely lady." Keep the charm, lose the fancifulness; gritty, short-spoken characters can still be elegant and captivating if you write them just right. A good rule of thumb, at least for clipping dialogue, is that you can usually lose the first and last words of a sentence; give it a try and see if it doesn't sound more natural. Sorry for the slap-dash C&C, just noticed this had no replies and went wtf TRAVESTY. Will probably edit this post neurotically for a while, and I might put together a document with more precise comments and suggestions later, if I find the time.
