# Sacrifice, Scene 1



## archer88iv (Jul 2, 2017)

Ok, so I tried posting this in another section and I don't think anyone ever looked at it. Here it is again:

Scene 1:

Grier's body burned, savagely-trained muscle still no match for the desire she felt, for her need to push past her own limits; as the last few seconds ticked by on the clock, she could feel her limbs shutting down. She staggered, her stomach revolting, twisting within her, the urge to vomit rising... She swallowed a deep breath and pushed on. It wasn't easy--the barbell weighed as much as she did!--but she did it anyway, because she could. Because she had to. Even her hands felt weak as she lifted the weight into position again, and her next breath was full of the chalk that mixed with her perspiration to paint her chest white. Could she get in just a few more reps before time was up? Yes. Yes, she could!

Five-- Four-- Three-- Two-- One--

A cry of pain and victory tore from her throat as she threw the weight down, her sweat-clad arms trembling as she collapsed onto the rubber mats. A smile beamed on her lips, overwhelmed as she was by an uncontrollable, unreasonable happiness that she always felt at the end of a workout. The butterflies in her stomach settled down only slowly, but they didn't matter anymore. The only thing that mattered now was that she had got through it--not the workout itself, but through her own trial by fire, beating her personal record on this one.

"Jeez, Matthews, you killed it!" said Megan, the instructor for the afternoon class. Megan offered her a high five and then a hand up as she rose, still shaking, to her feet.

That feeling of elation stayed with her as she congratulated her fellow athletes on their performance, exchanging fist-bumps and high fives--and one sweaty hug--in a familiar ritual. Members of the box were like family, which was something she'd always treasured about this place, particularly since she attended school so far from home. There were some announcements to be made, a few reminders here and there. Athletes were headed for the changing rooms already, seemingly all of them afloat on an endorphin high, but Grier had nowhere to be, so she stayed. 

Maybe she'd knock out a few suicide sets, or work on muscle-ups? Anything to avoid going back to the library to read at this point. It was not at all uncommon for the more devoted athletes to stay late, or turn up early, to put in more time in the gym. Some trained for competitions, or for sports, and others just wanted to be in peak condition for their work--firefighters, police officers, and even soldiers. Grier was none of these; she was merely obsessive, and fitness provided a somewhat less destructive outlet for her flaw. She was not the only one.

His name was Liam, and he stood with his shirt thrown over one shoulder, his powerful chest and perfect abs on display while he slugged water from a gallon jug. She seemed to recall that he was a lawyer of some kind, and possibly just a few years older than her, although she could not remember where she'd heard that. Did it matter? He smiled at her, calling out a few words of congratulation and encouragement, and Grier flashed a smile in return, giving him a thumbs up--but, honestly, the way his eyes touched her, moved across her body, she knew perfectly well that his mind wasn't on the workout anymore. Suddenly she felt the need to get out of there, to head home, to find a private place somewhere and... God. Fuck. 

Maybe just getting to her car would be good enough. She dumped the last dregs of her water bottle over her head and used her tank like a towel, discarding it on the floor after drying off a little. She just needed to grab her ruck and--

Standing at the rack where her stuff waited, she glanced back over one shoulder to see if Liam was still watching, and he was. So maybe it was best to stretch, just a little, after a workout. To work the kinks out of her back, her shoulders... Her thighs... 

Sweat dripped from her chin onto the concrete as put her hands on the floor to loosen up her hamstrings, and Grier knew damn well that same perspiration would glitter on the swell of her breasts as she put her hands against the small of her back and arched, slowly. Toned and tanned and stunningly defined in all the right places, she understood her body and how best to use it against a man like Liam. If she played her cards right, he'd ask for her number. Maybe she could play coy, just to make him want her that much more? ...But probably not, considering how she felt right now. Maybe *his* car was close enough. Grier found an excuse to look away as Liam approached, mostly so that he wouldn't be able to see the smile she couldn't keep off her lips.

"You're hard to keep up with," said Liam, playing at being humble.

"I try," said Grier with a laugh, even though what she wanted to say was, "Don't you want to fuck, God dammit?" He made small talk for another minute or two, even though Grier was fast running out of things she could screw around with--her athletic tape, her wrist wraps, her gym clothes, even her phone--and her disappointment at his hesitation must have been visible somehow, because he finally got to the point.

"So, actually, I wanted to ask you a favor. My buddy has roped me into a double date, and I don't actually have a date."

Grier smiled one of those is-that-your-best-story smiles, shaking her head a little in disbelief.

"No, seriously!" Liam laughed, either because she was smiling or because he couldn't believe his own bullshit. "Anyway, he's got tickets for--"

And of course that's when Grier's mobile started ringing, buzzing angrily in her hand with her advisor's office number on the display. She almost swore, excusing herself with, "I have to take this."

Grier stumbled out the back, out onto the delapidated old basketball court--a place now reserved, usually, for flipping tires and other such creative pursuits. Her stomach filled with butterflies, either out of dread or excitement, and it was impossible to tell the difference as she answered. Her advisor wasted no time hitting her with the bad news.

"Grier? There is no funding. I'm sorry."

Dread. Definitely dread.

The words hit her like a baseball bat in the gut, and she just stood there, unable to reply.

"Are you there?"

"Yes." That's all she could say for now. "Yes, I'm here."

"Next year, you'll be top priority," he promised her. "We can definitely make it happen next year, and this year you can just focus on your writing. Publication is huge. You know that. This field is all about citations, citations, ci--"

"Thank you, Dr. Adrian," she said, because she didn't want to hear any more of his pep talk. He kept talking anyway. "Hey, I have to go--I was just in the middle of dinner, ok? Yeah, we'll talk soon."

Grier stood there, stunned. Even after telling herself over and over for *months* that this might happen, it seemed she had never truly believed there was a chance that her funding request would be denied. Sure, she lacked seniority, but her proposal had been far better than her peers--and far cheaper! It just wasn't--wasn't fair. And yet life didn't need to be fair, did it. Life owed her nothing at all. She sighed, still staring at her phone in disbelief.

"Hey, I really didn't mean to overhear," said Liam from behind her.

The sudden, soft rumble of his voice made her jump at first, before it made her feel other things. She could not hide the anger in her eyes as she spun to look at him, but it didn't stay long; in that moment, she felt too empty inside to be angry.

"I mean it!" he claimed, even though the only reason to follow her would be to overhear her conversation. "I mean, I was worried that might be your boyfriend, so I wanted to scope it out, but I didn't mean to spy on you talking to your doctor. Are you ok?"

"You're a dick," said Grier, and she again found herself laughing and shaking her head. A weak smile crossed her lips even though she tried to stop it, and she drew a deep breath. "That was my advisor--a Ph.D., not a medical doctor. It was... Just about some paperwork for my research."

"Oh, good! You just looked a little down is all." Liam was more perceptive than Grier really wanted him to be just now. "So how about it? Do you like the opera?"

Her eyes met his for a moment, and for just a moment Grier wasn't able to look away, lost in that pale green. She really didn't know him all that well. So what if the sight of those shoulders--those arms!--made her feel a little weak in the knees, so what if she wanted to see what that stubbly beard would feel like when they kissed, and so what if she might have killed someone just to *borrow* his car for a week? Then again, an evening with Liam sounded better than a stupid peanut butter binge.

"I hate the opera," she said, after hesitating just a little too long. "But maybe you're worth it. Why don't you meet me somewhere tonight so I can find out?"


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## Plasticweld (Jul 2, 2017)

The good part is I think you honestly show some real talent as a writer and story teller.  The bad, this reads too much like a dime novel with the muscled guy with long hair on the horse sweeping the well built lass, with her breasts busting out of her dress off her feet.  


If that is what your going for then you found it. Minus the over the top adjectives and descriptions, it does read well  enough for me to continue on.  Keep in mind I am an old guy and I am pretty sure not your intended audience.


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## PsychoSarah (Jul 2, 2017)

I feel out of breath just reading those first few paragraphs. If you wanted that effect, I bet it would be even stronger if you actually left out periods and made them run-on sentences.


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## Jay Greenstein (Jul 2, 2017)

What you're doing is visualizing the scene and telling the reader what they would see were they on the scene, with comments tossed in to clarify. But unlike you, who begins with a mental picture, the reader is given only words _about_ what you see without being given that picture. Look at a few lines from a reader's viewpoint, and notice the questions raised that shouldn't have been:





> Grier's body burned,


Because the reader, at this point, has no idea of who they are, their gender, where they are, or what's going on, you just told the reader that Grier's body is physically covered in flame. Not what you intended, but it is what you said, because your intent for a line never makes it to the page and you haven't provided context. Had you opened with something like, "As she strained to raise the barbell, Grier's body burned," the reader would have had context, so the line, and what followed, would make sense. Without it, though, the reader has only what the words suggest _to them._


> savagely-trained muscle still no match for the desire she felt,


I have no idea of what a savagely trained muscle is. And since you say desire, and asaid "burning," now, I can only assume this is a woman who is burning with sexual desire while doing something strenious. It is what you said, but again, not what you intend the reader to get. The problem is that you've not placed the reader into the scene to give them context. Based on what you said they will believe that some contest is taking place and our protagonist is straining to win.. But in reality, it's just an unknown female of unknown age in an unknown gym working out. 

In all, you used 461 words till we she notices the man. And as an aside, her reactions are not at all feminine, so it reads  lot like a male fantasy. Sorry, but that's how it hit me.

 Were this a standard format submission we would be halfway down the third page when she notices the posturing man. And what's happened? Someone whose age, appearance, social status and location are unknown, finished a workout and then talked about inconsequential matters to people unimportant to the story. All we learned is that she's working out for unknown purpose, but was pleased with how it went. Had you started the story with  "His name was Liam, and he stood with his shirt thrown over one shoulder,..." Nothing would be lost but irrelevant visual detail a reader can't see and doesn't care about. 

Here's the problem: you, the author, are trying to tell the reader a story as if they can hear your voice and see your performance. They can't, and because of the outside in approach, where you talk about what _you_ visualize happening, you leave out things you can see but which the reader needs and doesn't get. 

The really short version: You're explaining your story to the reader instead of entertaining them. But that reader can't hear your voice or see you. So where you get a narrator's voice filled with emotion, they get a monotone. For you, the words call up images, ambiance, and memories stored in your mind. But for the reader, the words call up images, ambiance, and memories stored in *your* mind. And you're not there when it's read, so...

In short, you're trying to write fiction with none of the tools and knowledge the medium requires. You have the desire and the story, but you're missing the tricks of the trade. So in spite of all your work, it reads like a report. Our medium has strengths and limitations that we must know and work within. It's not at all like writing for the screen or storytelling. Nor is it even close to the way they taught us to write our reports and essays in school.

I truly wish I could give you better news, but the medium is what it is. And our own reading teaches us nothing of how to write because we see only the product. Yo create that product we need the process, something not mentioned in our school days.

But those tricks are something you can learn, and are what gives any writing talent you posses its training. So hit your local library's fiction writing section. Lots of help to be had there.


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## Sebald (Jul 3, 2017)

It has a lot going for it, Archer, vivid and well-written. Kept me reading, for sure. Could you give an idea what kind of story we're in?


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## archer88iv (Jul 3, 2017)

Hey, Sebald. It's meant as romantic modern fantasy. Or something like that. I've no experience writing anything like that. So, imagine a book jacket that says something about an ancient evil being and how it's going to destroy the world, and how our heroine is caught in the middle of that in spite of her best efforts.


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## archer88iv (Jul 3, 2017)

Plasticweld, I am not sure what I'm going for, but--based purely on the covers of the books in the Romance section--my prejudice is that it *is* something like what you just described, which... You know. Probably accounts for the result. I should probably actually *read* one of those, but I may just be in over my head.


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## Sebald (Jul 9, 2017)

Hi Archer.

I'm surprised to hear it's fantasy. Seems like an erotic novel, to me. I think you should really go for that, rather than the romance. Especially as you have never read a romance novel ha ha.

You're getting a lot of breathlessness in there, and sensations, and a sort of good-naturedness (Jackie Collins, rather than Fifty Shades).

To be honest, you have a style that could be adapted to most things.

Are you just trying things out? You can definitely write, and I'm interested in why you've chosen this genre?


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## archer88iv (Jul 10, 2017)

Well, thank you. I'm definitely just trying things out; usually I write either good old fashioned sword and sworcery [sic] crap, or sort of steampunk-y alternative history (?) or even space opera; I've never written anything that was intended to titillate, or to appeal to the prurient interest of the American Woman. If I was going to sum up my target here, it would be dark erotic fantasy. Or erotic dark fantasy. I'm not sure if the order of those words is important.

You know how it's possible to have the concept of a story in mind but then you don't necessarily have the details nailed down? I have such a concept in mind, and I thought of basically two ways that I could write it, and this is the one that seems the more challenging of the two, and therefore the more interesting for me. The concept is basically this:

A powerful, evil entity was eliminated not by being destroyed (ostensibly because it cannot be destroyed) but by erasing its memory such that it no longer recalls being a malevolent entity and just kind of stumbles through life as a semi-normal being--except, of course, that it cannot die. Hundreds or thousands of years later, a second evil (similar to the first) arises and the very wise (and very foolhardy?) believe the only way to deal with it is to awaken the first. In this treatment of that concept, Grier is meant to serve as the touchstone that allows our evil entity (the male lead) to remember his past.

The alternative I came up with involved a fantasy setting, Grier was replaced with a genie, and the malevolent entity was a dragon locked in human form. If I'm completely honest, I thought the modern female character concept was more attractive and that's probably why I'm writing that.

Edit: I know that's by a Canadian band, but it's better to have an American singing about American women.


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