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05-27-2007, 01:33 PM
He picked up the branch with his right hand, barely able to close his hand around its circumference.
‘What you going to do with that, spank me.’ The boy guffawed.
‘Knock your head off.’ The smaller boy threatened, ‘How does that sound.’
The larger tubby boy looked at the forest floor; his eyes darting here and there searching for a weapon of equal proportions or an even larger one. The tubby boy picked up a branch (that was more like a twig) from the base of a nearby tree.
The smaller boy laughed at his friends puny weapon that he assumed would break under the strain of a strong wind.
‘Shut up.’ The tubby boy futilely instructed.
The smaller boy began slapping the heavy and think but small branch into his open left palm. With each slap the branch made his tubby friends confidence dwindled more and more. ‘Stop that.’ He said.
‘Or what.’ He bravely retorted.
‘I’ll poke your eye out.’ The tubby boy pointed the stick out like a magicians wand.
The slapping of the branch into his open left palm stopped, ’what.’ he spoke in a bemused fashion.
‘I said, I’ll poke your eye out.’ tubby was loath to see the look of fear on his friends face, a look he had not witnessed on those bones, ever.
‘You haven’t got the guts.’
They both stood holding their weapons, staring, glaring at each other waiting for the first move.
‘Stop it you two. This is silly.’ Her chestnut eyes swung back and forth; looking at their faces, motionless, statuesque. ‘We’re lost and all you want to do is handicap each other.’
Both boys looked at the ground in embarrassment. Not daring to look at the girl they both held a small torch for; their first crush.
‘Now drop those things and shake hands.’ They acquiesced, dropping their weapons.
They both were hesitant to move toward one another, and end this dumb dispute. But they did when prompted by the girl with the chestnut eyes. ‘Quickly, I haven’t got all day.’ she had her arms crossed, and her right foot was tapping the patchy grass, mud ground impatiently.
They shook hands limply, as you would have expected; boys were impetuous to the end. They looked over at the girl with doe eyes, but she had walked over to the side of a large tree twenty metres ahead of them. ‘look.’ she said loud enough so they would hear. She was looking wide eyed at a flume of smoke that had risen high in the air; charcoal.
‘What is it Rosemary,’ said the thin and taller boy Thomas as he ran ahead of his heavier counterpart.
‘A fire.’ Rosemary; the girl with the chestnut eyes spoke when they were both standing next to her; Ronald though was bent over catching his breath.
‘The forests on fire.’ The tubby boy Ronald said with alarm.
‘No, it’s not on fire. I think someone has lit a campfire, to keep warm.’
‘But it’s not cold.’ Roland was still catching his breath as he stood with Thomas and Rosemary who too were looking at the smoke that pillared 300 yards ahead of them over the dense trees.
‘Not yet it isn’t, but it will be, when it gets darker.’ said Rosemary.
‘It’s already dark.’ Ronald gulped.
‘I knew I shouldn’t have let you come. You’re scared of your own god damn shadow.’
‘Don’t start again Thomas.’ Rosemary looked at him sternly. ‘Besides the only reason we’re here with you is because you said that we’d be back before nightfall.’
‘I hadn’t planned on getting lost in the woods Rosemary. Forgive my trespasses.’
‘Hey.’ Ronald gasped.
‘It’s alright Ronald.’ Rosemary looked at Thomas with the same stern look. ‘I thought you said you were going to stop making fun of my church attending.’
‘It’s only a joke.’ he feebly replied.
‘How come nobody’s laughing then smarty pants. It may be funny to you but it means a lot to me.’ Rosemary said solemnly, ‘And if you’re my friend you will respect that.’
‘I do. Sorry.’ He winked at Thomas behind Rosemary’s back. Ronald smiled wanly.
‘Let’s go, before I begin to get scared.’ said Rosemary as she walked toward the signalling smoke.
The two boys watched her walking away, looked at each other and shrugged, then began to walk; Rosemary being their guide for the time being. END OF CHAPTER ONE.

‘What if it’s werewolves or something that made that fire.’ Ronald said in earnest.
‘Don’t be so stupid Ron. I’ll bet you my baseball cards that we‘ll find people there, not werewolves.’
‘Not unless there‘s a full-moon anyway.’ Rosemary looked at Tom and smiled.
Ronald turned 360 degrees around, his head turned up at the sky looking for the moon, but he couldn’t see it through the branches and leaves.
Night had fallen quick and hard as they walked through the dense woods, sliding past trees, pushing branches out of their way and kicking dead leaves that were laid to rest on the earthy floor.
They all stopped when they saw the pyre. ‘I can’t see anyone, can you?’ asked Rosemary. They walked into the enclosed circled area; the fire was burning bright in the centre.
‘I don’t like this.’ said Tom worriedly.
‘It certainly strikes one as peculiar.’ said Rosemary, ‘I have a horrible feeling that this fire may have been lit only minutes before we saw it.’
‘Maybe the werewolves got them.’ said Ron.
Tom and Rose ignored him. ‘Perhaps they’ve left footprints.’ said Rose. She walked around the fire searching for footprints while Ron searched the outskirts of the circled enclosure, next to the darkness beyond the trees. Tom watched them from the basking heat coming from the wood piled fire.
‘No footprints here,’ Rose said disappointedly. ‘Any luck, Ron?’
‘Nope. I can tell you something though, I don’t like this.’
‘What’s new.’ said Tom flatly.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Ron.
‘Smoke signalling.’ Tom said with fantastic enthusiasm.
‘Stellar idea,’ Said Rose, ‘we can use an item of clothing to signal Morse code with.’
‘The logical choice would be your jumper Ron.’ said Tom.
‘Why mine?’ Said Ron grumpily.
‘Please Ron, I want to get home, and fast.’ said Rose.
‘Ok.’ Ron took off his large green jumper, and threw it over to Rose, who was standing with Rose beside the fire.
‘Thank you Ron.’ said Rose, who then gave Tom the green jumper. He grabbed the jumper with a quizzical look on his face. Tom Said: ‘Why you giving the jumper to me?’
‘SOS, remember.’ said Rose.
‘I don’t know Morse code, I only suggested it. I thought you knew how to do it.’ Tom replied.
‘Oh.’ said Rose.
‘Yes, oh.’ said Tom.
‘Can I have my shirt back now.’ said Ron; standing beside the trees in his white vest, beginning to feel the cold Rose had spoke of. Lucky we’re near a fire, Ron thought.
Tom balled up Ron’s large green shirt, then threw it like a missile over to him. Ron unfurled his jumper to see creases on it, ‘You didn’t have to crease it.’ Ron chided.
‘That’s the least of our worries.’ said Tom. And just as the words had passed Tom’s lips, a rustling sound came from behind Ron’s back; he was facing the fire where Tom and Rose were standing next to - his back was not five feet from the dark surrounding trees.
Tom and Rose stared over Ron’s shoulder from where they stood, trying to detect who or what was making the rustling sounds they all heard. ‘Ron get over here, now.’ Said Rose panicked. But Ron could not move, no matter how much he tried, his legs would not budge forth. Ron was scared more than he’d ever been in his short life. Even more than the time he was chased by the next door neighbours dog, Frankenstein; that’s what he and Tom had named it.
Another Rustling came from behind Ron, then almost simultaneously a rustling came from the other side of the circled enclosure. Tom and Rose turned immediately to the new location of sound; their whole bodies were now turned away from Ron’s.
Rustle, rustle, rustle. Three. There’s three of them. Werewolves? Ron thought, werewolves have come to get us. He’d never felt so scared and began to cry in fear of the unknown. END OF CHAPTER TWO.

Tom and Rose were transfixed by the leaves that were rustling loudly before them. They stood granite like against the fire, for what must have been 2 minutes; they saw nothing. Maybe it’s the wind, they opined, but they knew that to be a lie.
When the rustling had eventually stopped, their ears echoed; it was like listening to the inside of a shell at the beach. Rose turned around to where Ron had been standing not two minutes before: he was no longer there. ‘Ron?’… ‘Ron!’ bellowed Rose, ‘where are you?’ Rose was in a panic. ‘Tom…’
Tom was still held gaze to the rustling leaves that had since grown silent. ‘Tom, snap out of it, Ron’s gone.’ Tom came to life slowly as though he had been sleeping on his feet: how absurd - rose thought.
‘What.’ Tom spoke groggily, ‘what did you say?’
‘Didn’t you hear me.’ Rose had a mask of confusion on her face, ‘Ron’s missing.’
Tom’s sleepy voice was beginning to subside, ‘Where?’
‘If I knew that he wouldn’t be lost,’ Rose said angrily, ’just as if I knew where we were, we wouldn’t be lost.’ Tom’s eye glazed and he gazed back over past Rose’s shoulder. ‘Tom, are you okay? Because this isn’t the time to be doing this. We have to find Ron!’ she wished she hadn’t shouted at Tom but she couldn’t help it.
Tom replied: ‘They are in there.’ words that could only be understood as a statement.
‘They? Rose’s confusion grew, ‘don’t you mean, he Tom?’ Tom’s face was switching from the one she’d always known to one that was blank, listless, dead even: It was like a T.V that was on the Fritz - One with an internally bad connection - it scared her stiff.
She had to act fast, there was no time for idling by while poor Ron was lost, with-god-knows-what. But Rose was sure of one thing, and that was that Ron would never have walked back into the forest without them. She was more certain about this than she’d ever been certain of anything; she knew that Ron had been taken, by someone or something.
Tom’s eyes were bright, white and blue as they’d always been, but yet they were different at least to Rose’s recollection. They weren’t as deep - rose didn’t know if this even made sense to herself - but they were shallower somehow as though they’d lost substance in these past five minutes of time.
Tom had become completely silent, he wouldn’t respond to anything that Rose was saying to him. So she’d have to do what she knew he professed to hate; kissing. She stood squarely in front of Tom, put her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes and pursed her lips. She moved her lips toward Tom’s glassy eyed, expressionless face. Tom sharply came to just as Rose was about to kiss him. Tom snapped, ‘Hey!’ Rose stepped back setting her eyes on Tom. ‘What do you think you’re doing.’ said Tom confused.
‘I’m sorry Tom, but I didn’t know how else to get you back.’
‘What the hell are you talking about, I’ve been here all along.’ Tom’s confusion continued, ‘Where’s Ron?’
‘He’s gone, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.’ Said rose impatiently, ‘when the sounds from the forest stopped I turned around to where Ron was, and he was gone.’
‘Where is he then?’
‘I don’t know, we have to go find him before he gets too far.’ Said Rose as she tugged at Tom’s black T-shirt, ‘come on.’
Tom’s brain must have flicked onto the blank channel again, because he would not budge, and his face was stone. Oh not again - thought Rose. But he snapped back to life without the threat of a kiss this time. ‘He’s this way.’ Tom pointed to the north of the enclosed circle; the part of the forest Ron’s back was turned to.
Rose bemusedly replied, ‘how do you know he’s that way?’
‘I just do,’ was his reply. END OF CHAPTER THREE.

Reepicheep
05-29-2007, 12:31 PM
I'm interested to read more. Is your story really about werewolves?
Here is some information about punctuation and dialogue with quotes.
http://www.writing-world.com/fiction/dialogue.shtml

Adolescent09
05-29-2007, 04:50 PM
I'm getting a whiff of the dialogue and sporadic sentence structure of Lord of the Flies in this piece. Your use of simple language is effective and can be easily enjoyed by a younger group of readers. Perhaps, though, you should consider the discrepancies in word difficulty present after quotes and in your descriptions. You'll use 'tubby' to childishly suffice for the word 'fat' or 'obese' and then replacement of 'agree or comply' with it's ridiculously hard synonym 'acquiesce' are examples of where your language jumps from basic understanding to complexity.

I've read up on a technique dubbed the 'eight letter maximum' which self-explanitorily means using an average maximum word length of eight letters per sentence. Always know that no matter how appropriate a long word may sound it always makes a sentence look stilted. Keep away from your mental lexicon by using shorter, colorful words to express thought (this doesn't necessarily have to be used for adult fiction/nonfiction writing but for general children's writing it's imperative). Remember that for a prose children fiction's book or child poetry the customer is the parent who is purchasing the book, but it is the childwho decides which book is the subject of appeal. Here you are catering to the child, not the parent. No matter how quirky, gimmicky or outright silly a product appears to a parent, it is the child who will decide the 'appeal factor' of the product and therefore determine whether it will leave it's dusty shelf and be sold or not. Children are easily moved by dialogue because the subject matter of the story tends to move quickly through character intercourse. General discussion is usually based on randomness and therefore can move in abstract and inconsistent directions. Children love inconsistency in writing. They love being bounced drastically from one scene to another not worrying in the least about an explanation to expound the shift. Look at some contemporary young adult books, movies and typical entertainment medium themes that have proved tremendously successful:

Harry Potter: A young black haired boy (this in itself seems nothing special), A young black boy with a lightning scar on his forehead and a confused past where his parents were murdered and the sorceror who took their lives gave him the scar (this is a dramatic shift which is instantly appealing)---but then to keep tone with the current state of Harry Potter's surroundings, his half brother Dudley snaps his glasses so as to make Harry's face a quirky and comedic paradox. On his forehead he bears a legendary mark and on the rim of his nose he wears snapped glasses. Children adore this aberration. (Adults and everyone else have come to love it as well)

Shrek inherits the same quirky type of ingenuity by twisting cliche, proverbial fairy-tales as we know them and switching the prominent characters (a sleeping princess, a beautiful slave of three sisters and magnanimous lion) into something a bit more awkard, if not downright hilarious (well according to kids anyway). An ogre, a donkey, an ogress, a puss in boots, a smug gingerbread man and other characters which deck the story line in anomolous singularity have made the Shrek movie series the success it self-evidently is.

I hope you get my meaning ;).

x-file.
05-30-2007, 06:19 PM
Adolescent09, I do get your meaning. Constructive criticism is undoubtedly the best one from the criticism bag. Thanks for reading and replying, it's greatly appreciated.

Thank you for the Link. I’m going to save it to my favourites. It will help me immensely with writing this type of story.
Thanks for the reply to my post, Reepicheep.

It’s my first attempt at a children’s short story. And I’m having a blast writing it. I was getting bogged down recently with writing - as I imagine a lot of people here do - so I decided to do something different, and I’m glad I did. It’s no Alice in Wonderland, but hey, what is. :thumbs_up

motherhubbard
06-02-2007, 02:21 AM
I can’t really add anything to what Adol said, wonderful advice there. I felt some of the sentences were wordy and I got a little confused about the characters. I would loose track of which was which. Have you thought about what age group you are writing for? I have found that for 10 and under they like kids their own age, but 10 and over they like older kids because they don’t want to read books about little kids anymore. I just wondered who you are talking to. do you have more yet?