# Death Carnival (Chapter One) [YA]



## MisterTribute (Aug 19, 2012)

So here's the first draft of Death Carnival. [Synopsis]
Opinions, criticisms, advises, and comments are all accepted.
Forgive me if my writing is bad. I'm still fourteen. :lemo:

*One*



Panting for life—all three of us are out of breath.

The two of them are now fighting. I quickly hide behind a tree. Across the street was an old man wearing tattered clothes, lying on his back with a middle-aged guy above him, his dagger on the man’s throat.

“Where is it?” The guy asks.

The scene shifts forward, and I hear the man scream. He’s dead. And I sprint away with a sword in my hand.

I jolt my eyes open. Another nightmare. I’ve been having that nightmare for five days now.

But it’s no nightmare. It really did happen. It happened five days ago.

No, no, no, I should not think of it. I should forget about it. But I can’t stop thinking about the murdered man. I was his last chance, his only hope. I could have saved him. But I don’t know how.
_
Forget about it,_ I tell myself.

But every time I pass the street where it happened, memories come rushing back—nightmares that crawl up my mind, clawing it with dread.

Unless . . .

I prop myself up with one elbow and look across the room, the sun almost blinding my eye. Zeith is not on his bed. He must have gotten up early and prepared our breakfast.

“Zuther, breakfast’s ready!” Zeith yells.

“Coming,” I say.

I stand and take a few steps on our room, which is small. It has two small beds, a cabinet, and across is a table, beside the window. The window lets in enough sunlight for me to see a book left open.

I walk toward the table as the floor creaks under my feet. It is Zeith’s history book. He must have read it last night. The moon gives enough moonlight that passes through our window every night. We can’t afford to use electricity. We’re poor.

He’s on the chapter when the Americans in the past era migrated to Russia. It was because NASA (I don’t even know what that means) discovered a meteor approaching the Third Rock (I’m pretty sure they don’t call it Third Rock before), and about to hit the Pacific Ocean, which will cause a huge tsunami that will flood the United States of America. They chose Russia because it was a huge country. Unfortunately, the meteor hit the Pacific before the remaining half of the America was transferred. So many fatalities—the tsunami drowned the left Americans and Asians.

Then all the terrible things happened. Famine all over the world. Countries fighting over each other’s lands. Earthquakes. Floods. And all disasters imaginable. That’s when the world crumbled. And on the ruins of western Russia near Europe—where the Americans took refuge—raised Karsan, our nation.

“You’re going to be late for work, Zuther!” Zeith cries out.

“I said I’m coming,” I close the book and pile it in our mini-bookshelf under the table. As I walk out, I try to remember the image of our room, glancing at every side, like it’s going to be the last time I’ll be in here, in our home.

“Scrambled eggs, huh?” I take a seat on the table and start eating.

“Helen and Sally laid many eggs earlier in the morning,” Zeith smiles. Helen and Sally are his hens, and also his business.

“And you’re going to the market, right?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He chuckles as he takes a basket of eggs and starts pacing out of the house. “Mom left early, by the way. And I’m leaving early too.”

“You have already finished eating?” I swallow the last bite of the egg.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He lets out a laugh and leaves the house.

I place the dish on the sink and barrel out of the house.

I work in a forgery as a blacksmith’s apprentice—or junior blacksmith, I don’t know. I just needed a job when Zeith got really sick. Mom’s salary at the winery was not enough. I applied at the forgery and they accepted me. I work as an assistant to Grubie, an old blacksmith with a goatee, which he doesn’t want to get trimmed. Old but strong. Sometimes when he’s not around, I substitute for him and forge swords, spears, daggers, and other weapons for the Karsan Defense Army.

Thinking of the assassination, I stop abruptly. If I take my usual route to the forgery, I will pass the street of the murder. And the nightmares will go stabbing my head with terror. Again.

The road is just a couple of blocks away. I turn around and take a detour. I run through the woods where I dart away from the street. I keep on going. I keep wiping the horror away. I keep trying to forget about the man. I shake my head. I keep running.

Engrossed in the memory of me, Rhod, Ozrick, and Lorvic, I trip onto something hard, plumetting my self to the grasses.
_
Damn it,_ I think, _I’m already late._

I cough out some dirt.
_
What the hell was that?_ I think. It was hard, like metal. My toes are seriously in pain. I twist around and look hardly on the ground. A figure of a wing is emerging out of the land. I recognize the figure. It’s the crest of the sword—a raven taking flight. It’s the sword which the old man threw at me before the middle-aged guy lunged at him. I remember taking it with me, and buried it here. I still don’t why he tossed me the weapon.

Here I am again, remembering the murder. I hate myself for that. I rapidly stand up and brush off the dirt. I sprint away from the sword—away from the murder. Again, like what happened five days ago. Me, sprinting away. I _need_ to forget about this. I need to get _out_ of here—away from here.

Everywhere I am, I remember the old man, a dagger down his throat. Everywhere, there’s a sign of him, of what happened. I can’t escape this nightmare. I’ll be like this for the rest of my life, rotten to death with the sound of the man’s scream, echoing over and over, while everyone is living their lives, free from these terrible thoughts. Why does it have to be me? Of all the people to witness the slaying, why me?
_
Why are you being so dumb right now?_ I say to myself. _You did not even see the killing. Get rid of the thought and have a life._ It’s right. (I’m right, or he’s right, or I’m right. I don’t know—I’m getting insane.) I did not even see the killing. I did not even see the blood spluttering around the ground. I did not even _see_ the middle-aged guy drive his dagger down the old man’s throat. But I can’t get the scream out of my mind. I can’t get the thought of me being his ticket to freedom. Probably, he pitched me the sword because . . . he knew I could have saved him.

Now, it’s not dread. It’s regret.


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## Cold Twilight (Aug 23, 2012)

Hello Mister Tribute!   I came over here after reading your synopsis and leaving you a bunch of questions.  ^^

I liked your use of action attribution and the internal dialog for Zuther.  ^^  I also liked how you pulled in the history book that tells us some of the background and why things are the way they are now without making it an information dump. You also nicely established how poor his family is, that he has a mother and brother and that they both work--I'm assuming the brother is older than he is?

You kept in Zuther's voice very well, too, without bringing in a narrator.  And he uses words that fit his world and his life.  

Couple of my favorite lines:  "Panting for life--all three of us are out of breath." and "Now, it's not dread.  It's regret." and "...rotten to death with the sound of the man's scream, echoing over and over..."

I'm going to keep reading this, definitely. =)


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## MisterTribute (Aug 25, 2012)

Hey, Cold Twilight! :lemo: (There's a lot of question, but I'll try answering them. :icon_cyclops_ani

Zeith is the younger one. Zuther is four years older than him, which makes him like twelve years old.

Thank you for the feedback. I appreciate it.
I'll try posting the next chapters (I'm still writing the second). I'm kinda busy. Well, writing isn't the only thing I do right now. But I'll try.


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## Cold Twilight (Aug 25, 2012)

Ahhh.  I thought Zuther was younger because Zeith was making breakfast and waking him up ^^;  

More chapters whenever you can.  No worries. ^^ I know how it goes trying to write while being in school and doing a lot of other things too.  I'll look forward to reading them when they come


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## MisterTribute (Aug 26, 2012)

My bad. I did not explain it more in the first chapter.

I'm now on the third chapter. Still a lot to go. :lemo:

And by the way, I already answered your questions on the Synopsis thread.


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## Jeko (Aug 27, 2012)

Hi MisterTribute.

I'll do my usual thing of examining the first line or so.



> Panting for life—all three of us are out of breath.



I found the hyphen unnecessary. It splits the two phrases into fragmetns, and they don't helkp the feeling alone. I would suggest a comma.
_
Panting for life, all three of us are out of breath.
_
Reading that, I feel more out of breath. It's a very good line, overall.



> The two of them are now fighting.



So, they weren't fighting before? Interesting...



> I quickly hide behind a tree. Across  the street was an old man wearing tattered clothes, lying on his back  with a middle-aged guy above him, his dagger on the man’s throat.



I liked the present tense until you lost it. Across the street _is _an old man, unless he's there no longer.

I'm also unsure about how one person is a man, the other is a guy. I feel that your narration lacks a particualr style. Some people sue man, some use guy. Few use both. It's irregular, in my opinion.

I read the whole of the opening nightmare, and I felt one thing overall - it is only a flash. Is itmeant to be so brief, so loosely shown? It doesn't feel that important, with it being sdo short. I would like more description, more emotions exposed, to make this opening more lasting in the reader's mind.

In the end I think your beginning has a good style and direction, and it just needs a few things to perk it up and make it work as well as it can.


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## MisterTribute (Aug 28, 2012)

Cadence said:


> I found the hyphen unnecessary. It splits the two phrases into fragmetns, and they don't helkp the feeling alone. I would suggest a comma.
> _
> Panting for life, all three of us are out of breath.
> _
> Reading that, I feel more out of breath. It's a very good line, overall.



Currently revising it now. After I wrote that line, I read it over and over. My first thought was that it sounded weird. Thanks. 



> So, they weren't fighting before? Interesting...



They weren't, actually. At first, it was a pursuit.



> I liked the present tense until you lost it. Across the street _is _an old man, unless he's there no longer.



Thanks for pointing it out. I always lose my present tense into the past tense.



> I'm also unsure about how one person is a man, the other is a guy. I feel that your narration lacks a particualr style. Some people sue man, some use guy. Few use both. It's irregular, in my opinion.



Before I wrote the nightmare, that was my biggest problem. I was thinking how I can narrate a scene between two likely persons in the point of view of a third person.

Are there any ways?



> I read the whole of the opening nightmare, and I felt one thing overall - it is only a flash. Is itmeant to be so brief, so loosely shown? It doesn't feel that important, with it being sdo short. I would like more description, more emotions exposed, to make this opening more lasting in the reader's mind.
> 
> In the end I think your beginning has a good style and direction, and it just needs a few things to perk it up and make it work as well as it can.



It was supposed to make readers question about what the nightmare really is. It _is_ important. And it's not complete. In the later chapters, the nightmare will be told completely.

Is it a bad idea to not fully narrate the nightmare completely?


Thanks, Cadence, for the critiques. I appreciate it.


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## Jeko (Aug 28, 2012)

Man, my spelling was awful.



> They weren't, actually. At first, it was a pursuit.



It was a positive thing, the realisation of the past without further explanation. I didn't think they were fighting before.



> I always lose my present tense into the past tense.



If I'm writing in 1st, I always lost my present into the past...



> Before I wrote the nightmare, that was my biggest problem. I was  thinking how I can narrate a scene between two likely persons in the  point of view of a third person.
> 
> Are there any ways?



There's the 'first man, second man' technique, or you could use description. The large man, the small man, the short man, the tall man, the man in the white chair, the asian man etc.



> It was supposed to make readers question about what the nightmare really is. It _is_ important. And it's not complete. In the later chapters, the nightmare will be told completely.



I think you need a bit more substance to the nightmare to give it a more lasting element. It does make me question what it's about, but I fear that I'll forget about it by the time it becomes really important again.

You're working with holistics - well done. Doing this right will set your work above others.



> Is it a bad idea to not fully narrate the nightmare completely?



I would never narrate a nightmare completely - it would lose it's hazy, dream-like element.


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## bazz cargo (Sep 8, 2012)

Hi MT,
neat start. I would wait a couple of weeks before you reread and edit this. It will give you a fresh perspective and make it easier to spot the minor technical errors.

The premise is interesting. The characters have appeal. The setting has enough context to make a real feeling background. 

You are a good story teller. Gaining experience in the craft of writing, and writing a novel at the same time can be a long, soul destroying business. You could consider some flash fiction to get your eye in before embarking on an epic.
Bazz


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## Ender27 (Sep 30, 2012)

Hi!
I like your way of action's keeping. Style (?) is quite good - maybe you'd correct the sentence "I stand and take a few steps on our room, which is small."? It's not bad, but this "which" doesn't pass.
Happenings and past are well described. I can easily imaginate places, there is going plot. You're creating interesting Zuther's characteristic.
To sum up - you're on the way to become... no, not bestseller writer, bestsellers are usually not original youth novels (?). You can write a great book - and I'm waiting for this.


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## Gumby (Sep 30, 2012)

Hi MisterTribute, I enjoyed the story, but would like to point out something that jumped out at me. 



> “Helen and Sally laid many eggs earlier in the morning,” Zeith smiles. Helen and Sally are his hens, and also his business.



Unless the world has drastically changed in your story, hens generally only lay one egg per day, occasionally two. I only point this out as it is one of those little details that may take the reader out of the story, if they happen to be familiar with chickens.


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## MisterTribute (Oct 1, 2012)

@Ender27 -- Thanks for pointing that out. You were right.  Gonna post the second and third chapter later.

@Gumby -- Oh, I'm so sorry. That is a big error. Thanks for pointing it out. Helpful, really. Got carried away with other egg-laying animals. That is just a minor detail anyway. I'll start revising it. Thanks.


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