# Universal Imbalance - a work-in-progress novel (language)



## Micholeon (Aug 31, 2013)

Hey everybody! I'm new to the boards, and I have recently begun working on a novel that I'd like to share. I have it all (generally) plotted out from chapter to chapter, now I just gotta flesh it out into a full story. Although there's not strong language in this prologue, there will be later on. Anyway, here's the prologue. More to come.



Local Psychic Boy Reads Minds

            Kevin rolled his eyes when he read the newspaper headline. He hated reading about himself, especially since no one could get his story right. Kevin thought that papers would sell just as well if the journalists stuck to the truth, but they loved to blow things out of proportion. Oh well, screw them. He tore off the front page, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the trash bag he was carrying. He swept the long brown bangs out from his eyes, tied the bag closed, and continued onward to the garage.

            The light switch in the garage failed to work, but Kevin could see well enough to know where he was going. He made his way to the trash bin, lifted the lid, and tossed the bag in. When he turned around to go back inside, what he saw made him stop in his tracks. His eyes struggled to adjust in the darkness. What they were seeing could not be right.

            A figure of a man stood in the doorway. Although the garage was dark, the light from the kitchen illuminated the figure well enough for Kevin to know it didn't make sense. The man looked to be about six feet tall, with a medium build. He wore a black hooded robe with sleeves so long they covered his hands, and his feet were hidden under the ruffles of the robe as well. Essentially the figure looked like a robe standing on its own, but logic told Kevin there had to be a man underneath. That’s not what didn't make sense. 

            What didn't make sense was the lighting. The light behind the figure didn't just illuminate him, it went through him. The man looked like he was there and not there at the same time, like a shadow standing upright. When he spoke, Kevin was surprised at his voice; he expected the figure’s voice to sound threatening, but it sounded like that of an average man.

            “Kevin Beneke…” 

            Kevin broke his gaze away from the figure at last and looked all around himself. He looked for something – anything – else to focus his attention on, but found nothing of interest. At least, nothing more interesting than the shadow currently speaking to him. He looked back at the figure and finally spoke.

            “…Yes?” 

            “I’m sorry.” The figure’s apology sounded somber and genuine. 

            Before Kevin could ask what he was sorry for, the shadow man burst into a full-speed sprint, running at Kevin and through him. Kevin turned around to see where he went, but the figure was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly his feelings of fear and anxiety were gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of calm. Kevin didn’t know why, but he knew everything was going to be alright. That's when Kevin collapsed to the floor, as if his knees could no longer support his weight. The shadowy figure reappeared over Kevin’s corpse. 

            “Just following orders,” said the figure. He sounded unsure of himself.


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## Sara Haasis (Aug 31, 2013)

You have an interesting scene, what with Death (I'm guessing) showing up and Kevin possibly having some kind of supernatural ability. I'm definitely curious about those elements and I like the way you opened it with Kevin's reaction to the paper. 

I think the part where Kevin actually sees the figure could be a little leaner and that would make it more exciting. We're looking at the world through Kevin's eyes, right? If so it seems odd that he would first register all the figure's other features, then finally notice that it's translucent. It seems like a contrived method of building suspense to me. I'm also not sure why he's looking for something more interesting in the garage. If you're just trying to say he couldn't quite handle the sight of Death, that makes sense but could probably use a rewrite.


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## Micholeon (Sep 1, 2013)

Thanks for the feedback. No, we're not looking at the world through Kevin's eyes; it's third person omniscient, not first person. He looked away because he couldn't handle it, but you're right, it was a little vague. I'll change that. I'll just be posting rough drafts of things here, and I'll save my final edits for when I try to maybe make it an actual novel. 

Anyway, here's chapter one. Paul will actually be the man character, the thing with Kevin was just a hook.

*Chapter One – The End*
            An enormous green scaly dragon roared a breath of fire into the panicked crowd fleeing down 42[SUP]nd[/SUP] Street. Some dropped dead, and those lucky to survive began dropping to the ground and rolling, simultaneously thinking “thank you grade school for this once-thought-useless skill” and “holy shit dragons are fucking real.” One lanky man made it around the corner and hid safely behind a building. He breathed a sigh of relief before a gigantic pale white snake erupted forth from the ground beneath his feet, swallowing him whole before landing on the ground. It slithered, satisfied, down the alley and past a pack of three-headed dogs chasing a homeless man. 

            Three friends stood on a lonely hill overlooking the scene, about three miles west of the carnage.

            “Jesus…” said Paul, the average-looking red haired man in the middle, as he watched the all-too-familiar white snake slither through the streets of the once calm city.

            “Yeah?” said Jesus, to Paul’s left.

            Paul jumped. “I’m never gonna get used to that,” he said, wearily eyeing the messiah.

            “Man, we sure screwed up this time, huh guys?” said Brendon, the sickly looking young man to Paul’s right.

            Paul’s eyes, previously heavy with melancholy, narrowed as his eyebrows furrowed. “’We sure screwed up’?! How can you say that, like we’re in some shitty sitcom? God damn, dude, thousands of people are dying! Earth is swarming with monsters, we’re hanging out with fucking Jesus Christ himself, and all you got is ‘we sure screwed up’?!”

            “I was just trying to lighten the mood, man.”

            “This mood cannot be lightened. We’re responsible for this.”    

            “If I may,” butted in Jesus. “I think I have a plan.”

            “Yeah?” asked Paul.

            “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

            “I’ve been meaning to say this since we met, Jesus; you are not what I expected,” said Brendon. “Like, at all.”

            “It’s been two thousand years. People change.”

            “Just…how did…how did all this happen?” Paul asked to himself.

            “You should know, you were there,” said Jesus.

            “I know that, but I mean…a couple months ago, I did not see things ending up like this.”

            “…duh-doy,” offered Brendon. Paul glared at him.

* FIVE MONTHS AGO.
*
A large vulture soared aimlessly over the desert, dominating the clear blue sky. As she stretched out her long tattered wings, some feathers threatened to fall off. The vulture appeared unhealthy and unhappy, but this was her home, and she made the most of it. She tried to take in her surroundings, but there was not much to take in. The desert seemed both endless and empty; its only features were sand and sky, as far as her beady eyes could see. Occasionally a dune would rise over the horizon, but besides that the scenery remained the same. Then she spotted something new. A corpse, lying on the ground. The vulture grew excited and began descending, but soon disappointment overcame her. The body moved. Dammit. The miserable bird rose once more and flew away. 

As soon as Paul Truman opened his eyes, he realized something wasn’t right. His first sign of this was that instead of staring up at his bedroom ceiling, he was looking up at the sky. His second sign was that although the sky was bright, the sun was missing. In fact, the sky seemed entirely empty. He lifted up his right arm and watched as sand fell off his skin. His lips formed the words “what the fuck,” but he was too shocked to make any actual sound. Paul planted his palms on the ground, pushed himself up to his feet, and surveyed his surroundings. 

Nothing.

Well, no use wasting time, Paul thought. He brushed the sand off his body and began walking.

            Far away elsewhere, Charles Poole got ready for work, 250 miles above Earth’s surface. He was overjoyed to have been selected for the International Space Station, but he had to admit that it was a bit of a let-down to get stuck doing repairs while his colleagues did actual research. When he opened the pod bay door, the infinite vastness of space made him freeze. Instead of looking down at Earth, Charles looked the other way. He looked at nothing and everything at the same time. 

He came down from his high, grasped onto a handle on the structure’s exterior, and began climbing. Where’s Lydia? Charles was told his partner would be right behind him, but there was no sign of her. He knew that it was unsafe to be out here without back-up, but he couldn’t help but enjoy it. Being alone. On top of a space station – _the _space station – having the entirety of space to himself. He struggled to his feet and held on tight to a pole to sturdy himself. He enjoyed the view for a few minutes.

If sound could be heard in space, his thoughts would have been interrupted by the sound of an explosion. The blast knocked him off his feet, and his hand let go of the pole. Charles was now on his way into the vast emptiness that he once so admired. That admiration, however, was quickly replaced with fear and desperation. 

Back in the desert, Paul decided to sit down after about an hour of walking. His scenery hadn't changed. Although he felt frightened and disheartened, he did not feel tired, which surprised him. A rumbling sound from beneath the ground made him jump back up his feet. He looked all around him but saw no source of the sound. Suddenly, a patch of sand in front of him began swirling, much like a toilet bowl after being flushed. The ground opened up, and sand poured down into the resulting hole as the rumbling sound grew tremendously louder. Paul stood still, paralyzed by fear.

A gigantic beat of a snake erupted forth from the hole, its body almost perpendicular to the ground. The creature was a pale white, but its eyes were a deep black. Paul gazed in awe as the snake soared into the air, then turned and ran in panic as it fell back to the ground. It slammed against the desert floor with a terrifying thud, but Paul didn't even bother to turn and look. He kept sprinting. He heard the unbelievable monster slithering closely behind him, and felt that his life was about to end; that is, until an arrow flew down from above Paul’s head and he heard the snake let out a painful moan. His curiosity got the best of him. He stopped, spun on his heel, and looked.  Two more arrows soared brilliantly from behind Paul, and sunk into the snake’s face. It stopped its rampage and began burrowing back into the ground to safety.

“And that’s what we call the worst welcome party ever,” said a voice from behind Paul.

Paul turned and saw a short, stocky man with dirty blonde hair down to his shoulders and a face that looked as if it took regular beatings from a shovel. The man sat perched on top a tall stool on the back of a motorcycle. 

“The name’s Todd,” said the stranger. He lowered his crossbow and climbed down from his strange vehicle. “Looks like I found you just in time."

Paul tried to speak, but he had a million questions and didn’t want them to all come out at once. He finally figured out how to prioritize them. “What was that?” 

“Dunno if they have a scientific name, but I’ve always just known them as snakes. Big ugly snakes.” Todd backed up to get a good look at Paul. “First time to the afterlife, eh?” He looked as if he was holding back a grin as he said this, but he failed. His smile looked almost as ridiculous as his bike.

“Eh-excuse me?” muttered Paul. “The afterlife?”

“Well yeah. Naturally.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Okay, to be specific, this is the Torrid Desert, in the southern region of Kranuk. To be honest, we were all pretty stumped as to how ya ended up all the way out here.”

“And here is…the afterlife?” Paul sat down on the ground, his legs unable to bear how crazy this man sounded.

“Sure is. The afterlife…as in after life. Sorry about dying, kid.” Todd tried to sound facetious, but the sound of concern in his voice was clear. 

“But I didn’t die. Is this a dream?”

“Ya know, I was once told that, in dreams, you can’t focus on anything for too long. So if you ever think you’re in a dream, you just stare at your hand. I guess if nothing happens that means you’re in reality.”

Paul raised his hand in front of his face and stared at it. He picked a line, and followed it as slowly and carefully as he could. He kept waiting, no, hoping, for something to happen. Maybe it’d disappear, or maybe his fingers would turn into worms. Or maybe he’d just wake up.

Nothing happened.

           “I don’t think I’m dreaming,” said Paul.

           “You aren’t,” agreed Todd.

           “…Fuck”

           “’Fuck’ is right,” agreed Todd again.


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## Sara Haasis (Sep 2, 2013)

Yeah I didn't phrase that well, I just meant the reader's attention is usually directed at whatever Kevin is paying attention to. Not sure if there is a word for that.


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## Otkuda (Sep 2, 2013)

Interesting. I've read both the prologue and the first chapter. I like how the title of the novel gives a clue about not only the story but the structure as well. The fractured episodes, the inversions such as '*Chapter One – The End*', all place the reader in a slightly disjointed space. New characters, monsters and holy men are introduced in quick succession, to a dizzying effect. Reading it feels disjointed -- I'm guessing that's your aim and it works. 

* I can't give much in the way of critique, except these details I've encountered, others perhaps won't agree with me.
I firstly wonder about Kevin. You say he's only a hook, but will he return in the story? I hope so, because as a reader I've invested in him already and he's already provoked quite a few questions. I also got the impression he was going to play an integral part in the story because of details like 'He swept the long brown bangs out from his eyes'. But then again, the story's title is Universal Imbalance, so if you're wanting to unbalance your reader, this is already working well. 
A few pesky details that bug me: why not throw the whole paper away? How did he rip a page out if he was holding a litter bag simultaneously? 

* This fragment: 'A figure of a man stood in the doorway. [...] but it sounded like that of an average man.'   to me suggests a fairly long time period in which no action occurs and a dark figure just stands in the corner, doing nothing - it could use some compression. 

* Furthermore, you could try and condense: 'When he spoke, Kevin was surprised at his voice; he expected the figure’s voice to sound threatening, but it sounded like that of an average man. “Kevin Beneke…” ' 

into something like: 'When he called out his name, Kevin was surprised at his voice; he expected it to sound threatening, but it sounded like that of an average man.' 
or even: When he called out his name, Kevin was surprised at his voice; it sounded like that of an average man.

* '“Just following orders,” said the figure. He sounded unsure of himself.'  -- very nice.

* 'An enormous green scaly dragon roared a breath of fire into the panicked crowd fleeing down 42[SUP]nd[/SUP] Street. Some dropped dead, and those lucky to survive began dropping to the ground and rolling, simultaneously thinking “thank you grade school for this once-thought-useless skill” and “holy shit dragons are fucking real.”  '
-- I found those thoughts unconvincing. Funny, but very cartoonish, making the whole situation very distant; I didn't feel emotionally involved at all. Perhaps that's what you're aiming for. 

* On the section with the three friends on the hill: as a reader I already had to contend with a psychic with brown hair, Death who is unsure, monsters, and now Jesus is there as well, all within the space of a few paragraphs. He's introduced very casually, and that made the succession of events a little gratuitous for me.

* This sentence: 'Far away elsewhere, Charles Poole got ready for work, 250 miles above Earth’s surface.' 
-- If you already provide a location, 'elsewhere' seems a little redundant. 

* Though I understand you're creating a dizzying explosion of events in quick succession, to convey the universality of all the imbalances, the space station section feels hastily written. A new character gets introduced and almost immediately an explosion happens. Seems it all went over a little too quickly, and again, I have no emotional connection with this character. But maybe I will further on in the story.  

I'm very curious...


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## Micholeon (Sep 2, 2013)

-Kevin won't be a major character, but yeah I plan on bringing him up again in the future. Although, you're right about the paper, I should change that.

-It's good that you think the opening sounded cartoonish, because that is what I was aiming for. I know I'm not there yet, but I'm trying to go for a Douglas Adams feel - silly yet interesting.  

-Maybe a spoiler, but the whole Charles Poole thing is going to end up being more of a plot device than an actual character. is that bad?


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## Otkuda (Sep 2, 2013)

-Maybe a spoiler, but the whole Charles Poole thing is going to end up being more of a plot device than an actual character.

Aha -- sounds interesting.


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## Micholeon (Sep 7, 2013)

I was told that I shouldn't post full chapters if I want to publish this someday, so from now on I'll just post some excerpts. Here's an excerpt from Chapter Two - The Beginning

Although Hank would never admit it, he was not an average man. He was looked up to by almost everyone who knew him, yet he never did and never could understand why. As a police officer in Detroit, Hank had seen a lot. He had confronted abusive husbands, chased down violent criminals and drug dealers, and had been shot at on more than one occasion. In fact, the action he’d seen earned him a nickname. A nickname he hated but could not shake, despite his efforts to do so. Yet even after all Hank had been through, he was not ready for today. 

He stumbled into the bathroom at the back of the church and quickly glanced down the row of stalls to make sure he was alone. He went to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked into the mirror. His rugged face stared back at him, drops of water running down his coarse cheeks and through his bushy mustache. His mouth hung slightly agape, and his eyes sank softly in his face, forming an expression of deep anxiety and exhaustion. Suddenly the door swung open and in walked Tom Reynolds, needlessly adjusting his suit. Hank suddenly lifted his head up, turned to face Tom, and slammed his fist down on the sink, splintering its marble surface.

"Not now, Tom!" barked Hank. 

"Good to see you too, Hank. Looking sharp!" said Tom. “You should relax, this is a great day."

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this," said Hank matter-of-factly.

“Well, maybe you aren’t."

“You’re a terrible best man."

“I know it sounds bad, Hank, but look at you. Look at who you are. The man they call ‘The Blood Spiller.’ What are you doing getting married? Does Lindsay even know who you really are?" Tom sounded a little nervous as he said this, something very uncharacteristic for him.

“Yes, of course she knows who I am. Do you? Cause if you did you’d know I hate that nickname. I don’t want to be The Blood Spiller anymore, Tom. I want to be a husband." As he said this, his shoulders straightened and his voice began to sound more calm and confident. “I want to be a husband," Hank proudly repeated, surprised at his newfound assurance. 

“There’s the man I know. Now go get ‘er.” Tom smirked at Hank as he walked out of the bathroom. Once he was gone, Tom’s smile quickly turned into a frown.


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## WackedWes (Sep 8, 2013)

This sounds like an awesome story. The first piece you wrote felt more edited, prepared, than the second piece. I absolutely loved the first half, but the second half could go for some condensing. It's clear that they're both rough drafts, however they're pretty good ones. I think your diction could use some revising, and I'm not complaining-- I thought it was hilarious-- but I think you should be careful with your usage of Jesus, his presence in a work of fiction will undoubtedly draw over-attention to the story and some heavy criticism as well. I'd love to read more, keep posting!


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## Micholeon (Sep 8, 2013)

So I have the first three chapters done now, and I've realized that thus far it's pretty dialogue heavy. I like having characters talk to each other a lot, but I'm wondering - is that a bad thing, to be dialogue heavy?


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## WackedWes (Sep 8, 2013)

It's not necessarily bad as long as you have some sort of plot in there as well. If they are talking and you find a lot is missed, like scenery or actions not entirely said, then you should probably fit in more narrative. It may be hard to filter what's in your head versus what an outside reader may see. By this I mean that their mannerisms aren't necessarily as apparent as you think when they are speaking. That's not to say you have any of these issues in your writing, just be careful of them.


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## martinCHwriter (Apr 24, 2014)

Micholeon,
I saw your post and thought you might be interested in it:
I'm looking for someone to co-write a book with me: a novel involving modern life encounter with superpower, ghost, vampire, hell, kungfu, etc. It’s more interesting than Harry Potter as first, you can get a feeling that everything it says is true, and second it’s for adults as well.  -I’m a Chinese and going to translate this book into English, but since I’m not a native English speaker I’d like to find a writer who are interested in this kind of book and willing to co-write the book with me.  If you do have interest in this idea then pls. contact me.


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