They will consume us

[Volya]

I heard them coming before I saw them. The sound of soft steps on the pavement behind me, matching my pace almost perfectly. I could hear at least two of them, but there could be more. I looked ahead for my car, hoping I would reach it before night fell. If I was still out on the streets at night with nothing to defend myself, then I would not see the light of day.

And then I saw it, my car. Still where I left it, luckily it hadn’t been stolen or vandalized. Then I saw what was coming towards me, and I felt my blood run cold. Walking towards me from the direction of my car, were three more of them. They said nothing, approaching almost silently, like ghosts. An ordinary person would see them as a group of teenagers, seemingly innocent. But they did not share my Vision. I saw what nobody else could see; I knew what nobody could know. Looking past their outer façade, I see their true form. And it hurts. Their eyes burn with the eternal fires of hell, their gaze seems to pierce my body and look into my soul. I feel my vision blur as they come closer, the heat radiating from them makes me break out into a sweat. I have to make it to my car before it becomes too much. I break into a shaky run, and manage to make it to my car before the demons are upon me. They are hungry. Although the flesh of any human can satsify their hunger, my Vision gives me a unique ‘flavour’, and this combined with the thrill of hunting me means I draw them to me like moths to a flame.

I pull the keys out from my jacket pocket, fumbling for the right one. They begin running towards me, they are fast even when in their human shells. But they are unable to unleash their true power without breaking free of their mortal constraints. For this, I am thankful. If they were free, then there would be Hell. I jerk the car door open and jump in. Slamming the doors behind me, I try to start up the engine, nervously hoping it will work first time. For once, fate is on my side, and the car rumbles to life. I slam my foot down, and drive. I smash into one of the demons, leaving a crack on the windsreen, but no major damage. Despite the heavy hit it took from my car, look at it through my wing mirrors I see it get back up and start running after the car.

But I know that for now, while the sun is up, they cannot catch me. I make my way through the winding narrow streets, before eventually arriving back at my garage. I park the car inside and lock up. Then I begin the walk back to the apartment, taking a very indirect route to get there. I’ve learnt from the past to never drive straight back to my apartment, if I do, they can follow me there. As long as they don’t find out where I live I’m at no more risk than anyone else in the city.

~~~~~~~~~~~End of Part One~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is the first part of a story about demons I'm writing, If I get good feedback I'll write some more :)

Volya

[Delta40]

Volya the main thing I will point out in this story is the change from past tense to present tense. The beginning starts in the past tense:

I heard them coming before I saw them. The sound of soft steps on the pavement behind me, matching my pace almost perfectly. I could hear at least two of them, but there could be more. I looked ahead for my car, hoping I would reach it before night fell. If I was still out on the streets at night with nothing to defend myself, then I would not see the light of day. And then I saw it, my car. Still where I left it, luckily it hadn’t been stolen or vandalized. Then I saw what was coming towards me, and I felt my blood run cold. Walking towards me from the direction of my car, were three more of them. They said nothing, approaching almost silently, like ghosts. An ordinary person would see them as a group of teenagers, seemingly innocent. But they did not share my Vision. I saw what nobody else could see; I knew what nobody could know.

From here, you leap into the present as if it is happening right this moment.

Looking past their outer façade, I see their true form. And it hurts. Their eyes burn with the eternal fires of hell, their gaze seems to pierce my body and look into my soul. I feel my vision blur as they come closer, the heat radiating from them makes me break out into a sweat. I have to make it to my car before it becomes too much. I break into a shaky run, and manage to make it to my car before the demons are upon me. They are hungry. Although the flesh of any human can satsify their hunger, my Vision gives me a unique ‘flavour’, and this combined with the thrill of hunting me means I draw them to me like moths to a flame.

Can you appreciate the difference here? Had you stayed in the past tense it would have read as follows:

Looking past their outer façade, I saw their true form. And it hurt. Their eyes burned with the eternal fires of hell, their gaze seemed to pierce my body and look into my soul. I felt my vision blur as they came closer, the heat radiating from them made me break out into a sweat. I had to make it to my car before it became too much. I broke into a shaky run, and managed to make it to my car before the demons came upon me. They were hungry. Although the flesh of any human could satsify their hunger, my Vision had given me a unique ‘flavour’, and this combined with the thrill of hunting me meant I drew them to me like moths to a flame.

Be mindful of this because it really disrupts the flow of a story that is simply narrating an event that happened. You can choose to write in either tense but stick to one or the other in this case.

Good luck.

[Volya]

Oops. For that specific part you quoted, I think I intended it to be in the present tense, because when It was talking about how he could see them in general, not just that specific moment (does that make sense? I'm not really sure how to phrase it). I forgot to change back to past tense when I finished though :s
Anyway, I've written some more of it, hope you enjoy.

~~~~~Part 2~~~~~~~

I walked through the doors of my apartment building, and began the long trek up to the 24th floor. There were lifts, but they’d broken down years ago and the owners had never bothered to get them fixed. The stairs were steep and narrow, and they were almost permanently shrouded in dust and darkness. Like the lifts, the windows were broken, but instead of getting them repaired they were simply boarded up.

After what seemed like ages of walking – nervously checking behind me every so often – I reached my floor. There were 20 apartments on each floor, despite the building only being designed for fewer. You could tell that it wasn’t meant for 20 rooms because of the size of them. Each room only managed to squeeze in a bed (it was more like a mattress than a bed), a wardrobe and a small fridge and microwave in the corner. There was only one bathroom for every two rooms, but luckily the room I was meant to share it with was vacant. The entire room was a dirty mess, the most valuable thing in was probably my laptop and my gun. Of course, I did have some…odder…items, but they wouldn’t sell for much despite their true value.

Looking out my grimy window (the ones in the rooms were still intact, if not dirty) I could see that the sun would be setting in a few minutes. I got to work quickly. I took out two bags from my wardrobe. One was filled with salt, the other with iron filings. Taking a handful from each, I laid them in a line across my door and the window. Although nothing on Earth can truly hold back or destroy a demon, they do have some weaknesses. If a demon did happen to choose my room as its next hunting spot the salt and iron would at least cause it some minor pain, and it would hopefully move on to easier prey.
The encounter with the pack in the street had drained me of my energy, and I was exhausted. I fell down in my bed, and despite the itchiness of the blankets I managed to fall asleep quickly, just as the sun disappeared.

And then the voices began.

We know who you are……..we’re coming for you….for your blood….

I tossed and turned under the blankets, trying to escape the voices in my head.

Rip the flesh off your body…crack open your skull and drink from it…

I knew the voices weren’t directed at me, but I was scared nonetheless.

You think you can hide…… Nothing escapes our gaze… we see all………………

The voices continued all night, plaguing my dreams and turning them to nightmares. There was no way I could block it out, the sound wasn’t in the physical world, it was in theirs. The world I could see into. I was the only human who even knew of their existence. Ever since I was a kid I had seen them, right back to while I was in my mother’s womb.

At first I hadn’t realized what they were, or even been scared of them. I wish I could go back to those days, before it all happened. Back then, I didn’t know what they were which meant they weren’t drawn to me. I used to tell my parents and friends about them, but when I realized they couldn’t see them I shut up. I was clever, even back then, I knew that if I kept talking about it they would send me to a doctor, or think I was crazy. But then again, maybe I am crazy? How do I know I’m not? Maybe these demons are just delusions, figments of my imagination. But if I think like that, I don’t know what I’ll do. I know there must be others in the past who could see them, even after the powerful ones been imprisoned, why else would people today still fear the darkness, and tell horror stories about them?

But for now, I was alone.

At first, when I found out what they were, all I knew was that they were scary, and they were trying to kill me. But I did research, found out more about them. Then I got really scared. See, I thought the ones I faced were bad, but then I found out they get a lot worse. The ones I see are the weak ones, the bottom of the pack, lowest of the low. The real ones, they can do anything. Breathe fire, level mountains, summon plagues of locusts, they could even bend your mind to their will, leaving you powerless. If they were released on the world, there wouldn’t even BE a world anymore…

[Volya]

~~~~~~~~Part 3~~~~~~~~

After what seemed like an eternity, I was woken from my endless nightmares by an urgent beeping coming from the floor. I looked down and saw my phone. It was 6am – time to get up. Despite the dangers I faced from my demonic friends, I still had to earn money just like any other person. Of course, although I did occasionally earn money doing ‘special’ cases, my main source of income was fixing cars and other vehicles. It wasn’t the best-paying job in the world, but it earned enough money to pay for the room and food, and that was all that mattered. Plus, it meant If my car broke down and I had to get away quick, then I would usually have a few spare at the garage.

Before having breakfast (AKA some left-over Pot Noodle) I said my morning prayers to God. Ever since I found out about Them, I’ve been a devout Christian, despite rarely going to Church. I pray to God pretty much daily, but there’s been no response from Him so far. Even though I guess He must have a reason for letting all this bad **** happen, I’m still pretty pissed about the whole situation.

After I’d had breakfast and gotten ready it was still only 6:45 – the garage didn’t open ‘til 8 and it only took me about half an hour to get there – but I figured there was no point wasting time moping around in my room, so I headed on out. This time I took my gun with me. A .45 magnum revolver; reliable, and it packed a punch. Usually I didn’t carry it around with me, but after last nights incident I had to be on my guard, because the chances were that those five demons were still prowling around the area. Of course, I couldn’t actually kill them or even cause them serious damage with an ordinary gun, but it sure could slow them down. If I got ‘em at close range then it would tear a pretty big hole in them and they’d take some time to reassemble.

I had some more… useful… equipment in a lock-up across town, but it would be too risky to keep them with me, since they would attract demons and…other…organizations.

The sun was still fairly low in the sky, so the streets weren’t too bright. However I knew that the ones I met yesterday would probably be distracted by whatever prey they had moved on to. Although they did enjoy hunting difficult targets, they were still bound by an insatiable hunger, and since they hadn’t managed to catch me, they would be looking for an easy meal. I used to wonder how they fed so much, yet the deaths remained unnoticed by the world. Then I realized, there are a lot of people that nobody ever goes looking for; vagrants, criminals, all the washed-up failures that life had produced, with no friends or family to report them missing. So in a city like this, they never go hungry.

When I arrived at the garage, as I’d expected, it was still closed. I decided to wait in the coffee shop across the street, a small, dingy little place, not part of any big chain of stores like Starbucks, or Costa. There was a faded poster in the window, advertising some new drink they were serving. That poster had been in the window for as long as I could remember, and so far, I had neither seen nor heard any sign of the drink in question being sold. Not that it really mattered. The quality of the food or drink wasn’t good, but it was cheap, and there was nobody there who would take unwanted interest in me.

I went in, hearing the little tinkle of the bell ringing as I opened the door. Inside I was greeted by a familiar sight. A bored teenager sitting behind the dusty wooden counter – probably the son of the owners of the place – and a few tables scattered around the room, all of them empty. I wasn’t hungry or thirsty, but I bought a coffee anyway just to keep the owners happy. I took a seat by the window as I waited for my drink to arrive. Normally I don’t sit near windows, too much chance of getting seen, but not many people usually walked around in this area of town unless they had to. They call it No-Man’s Land, or the NML, a joking reference to the fact that the city is defined by the violent gang-war that goes on, each gang having claimed their own territory where they deal drugs, jack cars, and (when they were feeling bold) go out and vandalize police stations. They violently opposed anyone who tried to come in and steal their business. Newcomers to the town quickly learnt what streets were safe to walk at night. This area of town was the only place no gang had claimed, and as a result the majority of gang fights took here, since nobody wanted to stray onto enemy turf.
That was one of the reasons I chose the job here in the first place, because although most people tried to stay away from NML, for me this is one of the safest places in the city. All the gang war means if I ever have to fight my way out, the shots will go unnoticed, and it also means that there are less innocent lives at risk if I have to confront Them.

[hillwalker]

I'm not a fan of zombie stories because they're almost all identical. Unfortunately, this one is very formulaic and your main character is a bore.

Part 1 - Good opening paragraph - I'm already sensing some conflict to come. The line about 'looking ahead for my car' might better be left out because in the next paragraph we hear about the car again anyway.

The second paragraph is a little clunky. Two 'and then I saw's for one thing. And the cliché about your blood running cold. You need to remove the filler from it so it reads more smoothly.

My car was where I'd left it - neither stolen nor vandalised luckily. But then I saw what was coming towards me. Three more of them...

An ordinary person would see them as a group of teenagers, seemingly innocent. But they did not share my Vision. I saw what nobody else could see; I knew what nobody could know. Looking past their outer façade, I see their true form.

Who's they? It's not clear. And you actually jump from past tense to present tense within the same paragraph.

You seem to be fixated upon the car for some reason - Has it been stolen or vandalised? Luckily not. Will it start first time? For once fate allows it to. It left me wondering why you wouldn't expect it to be where you left it, unvandalised, and why you wouldn't expect it to start when you turned the key.

Perhaps you thought it would add to the tension, but it has the opposite effect. The reader is more concerned about your car than the demons.
I also thought the final paragraph of part 1 was a little long-winded. You're telling us what you do then as an afterthought telling us why you do it. It would be better if you explained the reasons for your behaviour as you drive home then walk to your apartment.
And I'm not sure why they can follow you if you drive straight home but can't follow you if you take a different route.

Part 2 - Because nothing has really happened so far I'm no longer feeling the paranoia I should. Your description of the apartment block is a little flat (no pun intended) - some of it reads more like a letter of complaint to the local council than horror story.

There were 20 apartments on each floor, despite the building only being designed for fewer. You could tell that it wasn’t meant for 20 rooms because of the size of them. Each room only managed to squeeze in a bed (it was more like a mattress than a bed), a wardrobe and a small fridge and microwave in the corner. There was only one bathroom for every two rooms, but luckily the room I was meant to share it with was vacant.

This bit was especially boring and added nothing to the story - we don't need such ephemeral info. And again you tell us how lucky you are- this time because the neighbouring room is vacant. Where does luck come into it??

And The entire room was a dirty mess, the most valuable thing in was probably my laptop and my gun. Of course, I did have some…odder…items, but they wouldn’t sell for much despite their true value.

An 'entire room' is the same as a 'room' I assume - and telling us the saleable value of what you have in your room seems an odd thing to share. Where's the story disappeared to?

Looking out my grimy window (the ones in the rooms were still intact, if not dirty) I could see that the sun would be setting in a few minutes.

Again - silly little details like this pull the reader right out of the plot. Is it 'grimy' or 'not dirty'? It can't be both. You have to tighten up the writing in this kind of story otherwise it doesn't work.

One was filled with salt, the other with iron filings. Taking a handful from each, I laid them in a line across my door and the window. - Did you sprinkle them in a line? Or did you lay out each bag after taking a handful from each?

If a demon did happen to choose my room as its next hunting spot the salt and iron would at least cause it some minor pain, and it would hopefully move on to easier prey.

Another awkward sentence - 'hunting spot'?

The encounter with the pack in the street had drained me of my energy, and I was exhausted.
Here you're saying the same thing twice, and here
I fell down in my bed, and despite the itchiness of the blankets I managed to fall asleep quickly, just as the sun disappeared. you're throwing in more pointlessly mundane info.

Ever since I was a kid I had seen them, right back to while I was in my mother’s womb.
At first I hadn’t realized what they were, or even been scared of them. I wish I could go back to those days, before it all happened. Back then, I didn’t know what they were which meant they weren’t drawn to me.

The plot is now getting too convoluted - before what happened? There's some backtracking to your childhood that could have been interesting but you make it all sound rather boring. And it quickly becomes imponderable.
I know there must be others in the past who could see them... But for now, I was alone... But I did research, found out more about them.

How? What was there to research if no one else knows about them?

I was woken from my endless nightmares by an urgent beeping coming from the floor. I looked down and saw my phone. It was 6am – time to get up. Despite the dangers I faced from my demonic friends, I still had to earn money just like any other person. Of course, although I did occasionally earn money doing ‘special’ cases, my main source of income was fixing cars and other vehicles. It wasn’t the best-paying job in the world, but it earned enough money to pay for the room and food, and that was all that mattered. Plus, it meant If my car broke down and I had to get away quick, then I would usually have a few spare at the garage.

Good grief. You couldn't make the story more uneventful if you tried. Readers don't want to know all this guff. They want some action... some conflict that was promised at the start of Part 1 and is still sadly lacking. And if the nightmares are endless then it implies you didn't wake up.

Before having breakfast (AKA some left-over Pot Noodle) I said my morning prayers to God. Ever since I found out about Them, I’ve been a devout Christian, despite rarely going to Church. I pray to God pretty much daily, but there’s been no response from Him so far. Even though I guess He must have a reason for letting all this bad **** happen, I’m still pretty pissed about the whole situation.
After I’d had breakfast and gotten ready it was still only 6:45 – the garage didn’t open ‘til 8 and it only took me about half an hour to get there – but I figured there was no point wasting time moping around in my room, so I headed on out.

Argh!!!! If you're writing this purely for your own enjoyment fair enough, but the more of this I read the more I'm losing the will to live. It's pretty dire.

And look at the next bit and ask yourself why the reader needs to know any of this:

When I arrived at the garage, as I’d expected, it was still closed. I decided to wait in the coffee shop across the street, a small, dingy little place, not part of any big chain of stores like Starbucks, or Costa. There was a faded poster in the window, advertising some new drink they were serving. That poster had been in the window for as long as I could remember, and so far, I had neither seen nor heard any sign of the drink in question being sold. Not that it really mattered. The quality of the food or drink wasn’t good, but it was cheap, and there was nobody there who would take unwanted interest in me.
I went in, hearing the little tinkle of the bell ringing as I opened the door.

Or this bit - I wasn’t hungry or thirsty, but I bought a coffee anyway just to keep the owners happy.
Uh?

Then we are suddenly given another dollop of almost pointless info - NML and gang wars. And that horrendously long explanation of why you choose to work where you do. Oo-er.

I'm guessing there's a lot more to come because so far all you've actually told us is you're a mechanic who has visions of demons - and you're taking forever to do so.
The main problem is that it reads very much as if you're writing everything down as it comes into your head. No editing. No polishing. No plot arc in view - hardly any plot to be honest. Most of your time is spent describing the MC's boringly ordinary daily routine and then explaining why he does certain things as if you've suddenly realised every single thing he does has to have a reason.

Not a particularly rewarding read I'm afraid.

H

[Volya]

It's not a zombie story.

'Who's 'they' ', 'they' = an ordinary person.

The car, will it be vandalized/will it start? When you're in a troublesome situation, you always imagine everything that could go wrong.

'Why take a different route?' So it's harder for them to follow, I would've thought that obvious.

I was always taught that you are meant to describe the surroundings, so the reader can visualize the position the character is in, etc. You can hardly expect somebody to tell a story without setting the scene.

Where does luck come into it? Erm, where does it not? It's not as though he can choose if somebody is in the room next to him

Is the window grimy or not? It is grimy, but it's not broken. Was that not clear?

Salt+iron in bags, or sprinkled I don't see why you need to ask that, is it not obvious he sprinkled it?

Hunting spot How is that an awkward sentence... Perhaps you would prefer if i said 'hunting ground' instead? But that wouldn't work, since it implies a much larger area.

Just as the sun disappeared The demons are strongest at night, hence why he has the nightmares.

Before what happened Before he realized what the demons were.

What was there to research? Is it not possible for somebody to research by studying something first-hand?

They want some action Good god, its been more than half a page without action, this is dreadful!

It implies he wouldn't wake up Yeah, if you are taking every single thing he says literally.

To keep them happy I don't know about you, but it's generally considered rude to sit in a cafe and not buy anything.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

I think most of hillwalker's critiques are pretty spot on. It isn't that there isn't any action (and note that action doesn't really mean explosions and car chases . . . just something happening), it's just that there isn't really anything interesting here. We assume this is a short story--almost every piece of prose fiction posted here is, and if it isn't the reader is usually told so (i.e., "This is the first chapter of a novel I'm working on."). We're not told this isn't a short story, so it's being changed by those merits. With a short story, you want to jump right in with the story--there's no room for all this exposition. And, even if it was for a longer work, it still is uninteresting prose--I think you're trying to build tension and a mysterious atmosphere by being so vague in what's going on, but it frustrates this reader more than intrigues.

All that being said, considering your age, it isn't horrible. You have a good grasp of language, and your voice isn't bad (though it still needs to be developed, of course). It's tough taking criticism, especially when it tears your work apart like hill does, and especially at your age (and, trust me, despite what your signature says, not many here are going to soften their words in hopes to not hurt your feelings), but you're going to have to learn to take it into consideration if you're going to grow as a writer. I think you definitely have inherent skill.

[Volya]

I guess it would've helped if I said at the start that this isn't meant to be a short story. I plan on writing a lot more, and the next part I upload (haven't finished writing it though) should hopefully put some more action into the plot.

And in regards to taking criticism, it's cool, I have a thick skin :)

[hillwalker]

It's not a zombie story.

I know - take a chill pill!



'Who's 'they' ', 'they' = an ordinary person.

But in the previous sentence you mention teenagers so the 'they' could just as easily refer to them the way it's worded.



The car, will it be vandalized/will it start? When you're in a troublesome situation, you always imagine everything that could go wrong.

But he seemed more worried about the car than the demons.


'Why take a different route?' So it's harder for them to follow, I would've thought that obvious.

But you don't explain why it would be harder. And logically it would only be harder to follow a car going indirectly from A to B if the driver makes several attempts to shake off his pursuers.
You wrote that they can follow you if you drive straight home as if it's a given fact - so presumably the opposite is also true.


I was always taught that you are meant to describe the surroundings, so the reader can visualize the position the character is in, etc. You can hardly expect somebody to tell a story without setting the scene.

Whoever taught you that was wrong. We don't expect an inventory of someone's apartment and an architectural report on the state of the building he lives in.
By all means, if the surroundings are relevant to the plot then go ahead and set the scene - but try to make it more interesting.


Where does luck come into it? Erm, where does it not? It's not as though he can choose if somebody is in the room next to him

So everything that happens to him - his car functioning and his home arrangements - is down to good or bad luck?


Is the window grimy or not? It is grimy, but it's not broken. Was that not clear?

No. READ WHAT YOU WROTE - Looking out my grimy window (the ones in the rooms were still intact, if not dirty) - it can't be grimy and not dirty


Salt+iron in bags, or sprinkled I don't see why you need to ask that, is it not obvious he sprinkled it?

What's obvious or not obvious is no excuse for sloppy writing. 'Lay' is the wrong verb for what he's doing.


Hunting spot How is that an awkward sentence... Perhaps you would prefer if i said 'hunting ground' instead? But that wouldn't work, since it implies a much larger area.

I think you need to choose a better phrase - if you can't come up with one think of a better way of expressing the entire concept of demons targetting people in their homes.


Just as the sun disappeared The demons are strongest at night, hence why he has the nightmares.

The term 'mundane' was in reference to the underlined part - his itchy blankets.


Before what happened Before he realized what the demons were.

So that's what you need to say.


What was there to research? Is it not possible for somebody to research by studying something first-hand?

Yes - so tell the reader this. Don't throw out statements and expect us to be able to read the character's mind.


They want some action Good god, its been more than half a page without action, this is dreadful!

Having a smart attitude doesn't necessarily make you a smart writer, although it does help. So far you have posted 3 parts of your story and there's no action worth getting excited about. Over 2000 words to tell us he sees some demons in the street. Oh, and I forgot. You ran over one in your car.


It implies he wouldn't wake up Yeah, if you are taking every single thing he says literally.

So now we're meant to understand that when you write 'endless' you don't actually mean 'without end'. Readers will take what you write literally until they realise what you write isn't quite correct - then they will distrust you as a writer and it's all downhill from there.


To keep them happy I don't know about you, but it's generally considered rude to sit in a cafe and not buy anything.

But I usually go into a cafe because I want to buy a drink, not because I want to make the proprietor happy. That's the point. Your character is behaving in an unrealistic way unless he has a reason to sit in that particular cafe. And if he does, tell us about it.

Good luck with the rest of this. Just try and see beyond some of the criticisms and put yourself in the shoes of the reader who has to work through this without knowing what went through your mind while writing it.

H

[AuntShecky]

Allow me to have the last word on that scintillating subject-- pronouns!

Generally and grammatically thinking, pronouns, such as "he" "she," "it," and the infamous "they," are all substitutes or stand-ins for nouns. That means that a pronoun requires an antecedent, a noun or a proper noun, which has appeared before the pronoun shows up. This is just basic English grammar. A writer just can't throw a pronoun without an identifiable antecedent up there and expect his or her readers to know what it refers to.

At the risk of offending the young writer, I'd also like to state that after five years of looking at fiction posted by my fellow LitNutters (as well as additional years of experience in the academic world several Presidential administrations ago) I have discovered that the main problem beginning writers have is not that they don't write enough, but that they don't read enough!

At this point in the process you should be spending more time reading than attempting to write your own material. This isn't to say that you shouldn't do both but rather to build your own mental database in order to acquire a working knowledge of how to practice the craft. Read a variety of short stories, especially from the twentieth and current centuries. As you read each story, ask yourself not only what the story is about but how the particular author puts his or her point across. Take notice of what works and what doesn't, how to present plot and character in subtle ways, and how the author follows (or breaks) the Cardinal Rule of Fiction Writing: "Show, Don't Tell."

You also might benefit by reading books and articles about the craft of fiction writing, but these self-help tools should be secondary to reading quality fiction itself.

Here are some links containing some more cheap advice, if you're interested:

You"ll Know I'll Stop Reading Your Short Stories When. . . (http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=41000&highlight=Stop+Reading+Short+Stories)

Show Don’t Tell (Redux) (http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=67728)


Down and Dirty Guide to Punctuation (http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=56601&highlight=Dirty+Guide+Punctuation)

[Volya]

Thank you for the feedback and the links :)