Trick
Auror
This is a tiny excerpt that I need some feedback on. I'd ask that no one brutalize this too viciously but I don't think I need to because I have yet to get that kind of feedback from any here on Mythic Scribes. Both positive and negative reinforcement are welcome along with suggestions and comments.
Basically,I have a long, possibly over-extended metaphor in this scene and I need to know if it works but you can comment on writing mechanics too. I'm definitely not above the help.
~ My feet slapped and banged a hop-scotch beat down the stairs, causing creaks and groans from the rough, worn wood. The corners of my mouth were in danger of touching my ears and I was even humming a tune that Mama sang to Daria at bed time. Once outside, the cool night air soothed my flushed cheeks; or at least it would have if there wasn't suddenly a bag over my head and a fist in my gut. I gasped for breath but got rough canvas between my lips instead. My outcry sounded more like an animal grunt than anything human. My memory cuts off at that point, like I fell asleep while Mama told a story, and when I wake, I just can't remember what the bad guy was doing before I drifted off.
In this case I was reminded without wasted time. What was the bad guy doing when I came to? Well, staring me in the face, that's what. And I knew Mama's bad guys would be afraid of this man. They'd have been shaking in their fictional boots. I still don't feel embarrassed about pissing myself. Shit, I was only nine. ~
Thanks all
Basically,I have a long, possibly over-extended metaphor in this scene and I need to know if it works but you can comment on writing mechanics too. I'm definitely not above the help.
~ My feet slapped and banged a hop-scotch beat down the stairs, causing creaks and groans from the rough, worn wood. The corners of my mouth were in danger of touching my ears and I was even humming a tune that Mama sang to Daria at bed time. Once outside, the cool night air soothed my flushed cheeks; or at least it would have if there wasn't suddenly a bag over my head and a fist in my gut. I gasped for breath but got rough canvas between my lips instead. My outcry sounded more like an animal grunt than anything human. My memory cuts off at that point, like I fell asleep while Mama told a story, and when I wake, I just can't remember what the bad guy was doing before I drifted off.
In this case I was reminded without wasted time. What was the bad guy doing when I came to? Well, staring me in the face, that's what. And I knew Mama's bad guys would be afraid of this man. They'd have been shaking in their fictional boots. I still don't feel embarrassed about pissing myself. Shit, I was only nine. ~
Thanks all
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