ctg
weaver of the unseen
- Joined
- Aug 21, 2007
- Messages
- 9,749
The most important question in my mind is does the prose at below hook you enough, or am I again treading down a well worn road?
I know that I need to shape the narrator's voice before it really strikes the nerve, but as a man, writing female thoughts is something that I haven't done before.
Does she comes across as a man or as a woman?
(~1050 words)
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. The interrogation or as they said it the interview room was one of those standard governmental types that would see in the movies: concrete walls, a one-way mirror, aluminium table and the chairs that were bolted on the floor. But the interviewer was nothing like from the movies, he was one of those balding types with big square classes and bad mouth hygiene.
I guess it wasn’t his fault as he was just born that way. The God had made him his image. Then again, the world was full of his images … or at least used to be. He gestured with his hand for me to take a chair, while he meticulously pulled folders, pens and whatnots from his leather briefcase and set them all in order at the desk before he said, “Would you state your name, age, and occupation for the record?”
Of course love , I smiled as I composed my thoughts. “My name is Jane McGriffin. I’ve lost the count over the years on how old I really am, but I was sired in the year seventeen thirty six and my current occupation is a vampire.”
The man checked the information against the thin file that he’d opened at front of him and crossed over the few details before he composed himself again and said, “The record indicate that you were married before the war began—“
“Yes,” I said nervously. “That’s correct.”
“Is he…”
I leaned my head on right, and asked as I watched him curiously, “Do you mind if I smoke?”
He glanced hastily the one-way mirror as if he were asking a permission from his superiors and then said, “Well, it’s against the regulations—“
“You don’t want me to step out and go to have one with the Zoe’s, do you?”
“Zoe’s?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Zack’s, Z-heads, the walking dead, the freaking Zombie’s…” Then I leaned forward and slapped a hand over his file as I said, “Look Mister, you want to go over my details, fine, but you have to understand that there are things that make this girl nervous, okay?”
He nodded nervously as he flashed me his stained teeth.
“Good,” I said as I pushed my fingers between the chain mail shirt and the padded leather to pull out a silver cigarette case. “I knew you would come to your senses.” I opened the case at front of him, took out one of the hand rolled smokes and asked, “Do you have a light mister?”
As his hands went to his pockets, he gave me a reason to smile. “I did wonder if you were a smoker, but now that we established that fact, would you like to share one with me?”
As he again flicked his eyes towards the mirror, I snapped my fingers and stated, “I didn’t ask their permission, but offered you a one. So what is it, do you want one or not?”
“If you don’t mind,” he answered.
“Of course I don’t,” I said and pushed the case towards him. “Now, you wanted to know if I was still married to Damien, didn’t you?”
He nodded at the same moment as he took out one of the smokes and scratched a light at the end of it. I took a drag, held the smoke in my lungs and then expelled it through my nostrils. “Yes I am, and have been almost as long as I have been one that Damned ones.”
“So, he is still alive?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“I see,” the man lifted his gaze from the papers and said, “Look Miss, we understand if you are unsure of his current whereabouts. We estimate that there are a little bit over forty million zombies wandering the landscape, and we only want know, for the record, if you know his location or not.”
“If that’s the case,” I said and took another drag. “Then the answer is yes.”
“Thank you,” he said. He went down his list, checking items and turning papers while I tried to peer into his soul and really get down to understand the reason why he were asking these sort of questions. It was obvious that he understood that he, like I, was one of the undeads, one of the enemies, but in husband case, he had been loyal government agent for a very long time. They had always looked away for things that he’d done to the populace, while he’d provided them God knows what sort of information through his activities. So, as a loving woman I couldn’t understand the reason, but as a logical person, I understood exactly their unspoken reasoning behind the questioning.
They needed something from him. So the question was, would I be his Judas?
“Thirteen silvers,” I said quietly.
The man raised his gaze, and said, “Pardon?”
“Oh nothing…” I shook my head.
“Right,” he said, “In that case, should we start from the first question then?”
“Which is?”
“Where and when did you encounter the plague of death first time?”
“Well,” I stumped my roll up and lit up another one. “Now, that’s a real question…”
He raised his brows and crossed his fingers, “But you want something before that?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if a girl could get a drink, or is that too demanding?”
“And is there some so—“
I licked my lips and smiled. “I prefer something red…”
“Mmm,” I licked my lips as I laid down the wineglass. “Now, that’s very nice.”
The old gentleman, at other side of the table smiled slyly as he whisked his hand to send the waiter away. Even though he was old, there was nothing in his physical appearance that would had told to the casual observer that in this table sat nothing more than a very young looking couple. Maybe even a married couple. But to those, who knew us better, knew not bring in the m-word related matter at front of him if they wanted to keep their heads sitting on their shoulders. Especially not the one that was forged at front of the God, or at that time, at front of a sea captain.
I know that I need to shape the narrator's voice before it really strikes the nerve, but as a man, writing female thoughts is something that I haven't done before.
Does she comes across as a man or as a woman?
(~1050 words)
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. The interrogation or as they said it the interview room was one of those standard governmental types that would see in the movies: concrete walls, a one-way mirror, aluminium table and the chairs that were bolted on the floor. But the interviewer was nothing like from the movies, he was one of those balding types with big square classes and bad mouth hygiene.
I guess it wasn’t his fault as he was just born that way. The God had made him his image. Then again, the world was full of his images … or at least used to be. He gestured with his hand for me to take a chair, while he meticulously pulled folders, pens and whatnots from his leather briefcase and set them all in order at the desk before he said, “Would you state your name, age, and occupation for the record?”
Of course love , I smiled as I composed my thoughts. “My name is Jane McGriffin. I’ve lost the count over the years on how old I really am, but I was sired in the year seventeen thirty six and my current occupation is a vampire.”
The man checked the information against the thin file that he’d opened at front of him and crossed over the few details before he composed himself again and said, “The record indicate that you were married before the war began—“
“Yes,” I said nervously. “That’s correct.”
“Is he…”
I leaned my head on right, and asked as I watched him curiously, “Do you mind if I smoke?”
He glanced hastily the one-way mirror as if he were asking a permission from his superiors and then said, “Well, it’s against the regulations—“
“You don’t want me to step out and go to have one with the Zoe’s, do you?”
“Zoe’s?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Zack’s, Z-heads, the walking dead, the freaking Zombie’s…” Then I leaned forward and slapped a hand over his file as I said, “Look Mister, you want to go over my details, fine, but you have to understand that there are things that make this girl nervous, okay?”
He nodded nervously as he flashed me his stained teeth.
“Good,” I said as I pushed my fingers between the chain mail shirt and the padded leather to pull out a silver cigarette case. “I knew you would come to your senses.” I opened the case at front of him, took out one of the hand rolled smokes and asked, “Do you have a light mister?”
As his hands went to his pockets, he gave me a reason to smile. “I did wonder if you were a smoker, but now that we established that fact, would you like to share one with me?”
As he again flicked his eyes towards the mirror, I snapped my fingers and stated, “I didn’t ask their permission, but offered you a one. So what is it, do you want one or not?”
“If you don’t mind,” he answered.
“Of course I don’t,” I said and pushed the case towards him. “Now, you wanted to know if I was still married to Damien, didn’t you?”
He nodded at the same moment as he took out one of the smokes and scratched a light at the end of it. I took a drag, held the smoke in my lungs and then expelled it through my nostrils. “Yes I am, and have been almost as long as I have been one that Damned ones.”
“So, he is still alive?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“I see,” the man lifted his gaze from the papers and said, “Look Miss, we understand if you are unsure of his current whereabouts. We estimate that there are a little bit over forty million zombies wandering the landscape, and we only want know, for the record, if you know his location or not.”
“If that’s the case,” I said and took another drag. “Then the answer is yes.”
“Thank you,” he said. He went down his list, checking items and turning papers while I tried to peer into his soul and really get down to understand the reason why he were asking these sort of questions. It was obvious that he understood that he, like I, was one of the undeads, one of the enemies, but in husband case, he had been loyal government agent for a very long time. They had always looked away for things that he’d done to the populace, while he’d provided them God knows what sort of information through his activities. So, as a loving woman I couldn’t understand the reason, but as a logical person, I understood exactly their unspoken reasoning behind the questioning.
They needed something from him. So the question was, would I be his Judas?
“Thirteen silvers,” I said quietly.
The man raised his gaze, and said, “Pardon?”
“Oh nothing…” I shook my head.
“Right,” he said, “In that case, should we start from the first question then?”
“Which is?”
“Where and when did you encounter the plague of death first time?”
“Well,” I stumped my roll up and lit up another one. “Now, that’s a real question…”
He raised his brows and crossed his fingers, “But you want something before that?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if a girl could get a drink, or is that too demanding?”
“And is there some so—“
I licked my lips and smiled. “I prefer something red…”
***
“Mmm,” I licked my lips as I laid down the wineglass. “Now, that’s very nice.”
The old gentleman, at other side of the table smiled slyly as he whisked his hand to send the waiter away. Even though he was old, there was nothing in his physical appearance that would had told to the casual observer that in this table sat nothing more than a very young looking couple. Maybe even a married couple. But to those, who knew us better, knew not bring in the m-word related matter at front of him if they wanted to keep their heads sitting on their shoulders. Especially not the one that was forged at front of the God, or at that time, at front of a sea captain.
