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17th Angel

17th Angel

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Any suggestions to how I could, perfect this opening paragraph? I am stumped for once, and just can't get anything..... Any thoughts?


It was the middle of October, the wind was cold, and chilled to the bone. The sky was grey and angry, a storm was growing. It showed dominance over the entire land. The trees were fruitless and baron. The few remaining leaves fell and scattered randomly and hustled their way through the winds. The ground icy and wet. Yet near a small village named Moorhaven, a group had began to gather this early Sunday morning. The aura that came off them, was like a beam of light, as bright as the sun. They rejoiced and greeted each other warmly. They were preparing for their weekly church service. The small group turned around almost in unison. As another car pulled up. “Morning, preacher!” a voice said from the small crowd. The preacher smiled and shut his car door. Followed by two young choir boys. “Hope you’ve all brought your singing voices today!” He said in a soft humours voice as he walked towards the church with the wind pushing into him. Struggling up the small pathway he placed his key into the door, at this point there was a crack of thunder, and rain began to heavily fall down on them. Rushing the preacher opened the door and encouraged everyone to hurry up and get into the dry. The small group rushed in and took their seats. The priest brushing off the rain walked towards the front of the church followed by the two choirboys and an old lady. The priest stood by a centre stand, the two young boys sat beside an organ and the old lady sat down at the organ. “Let’s start with a song shall we?” The old woman, began to release harsh and dulling notes from within the organ, The people stood and started to sing from their song books. Halfway through this calm and pleasant song, an almighty flash and cracking sound came from the skies. Lightning had struck just outside the church door. The force and sheer power of the lightning bolt thrust the large church door open. Smashing back against a small donations stand, it sent the loose change, bowl and stand flying. Rebounding off the wall it creaked off it’s top hinge. The organ and singing stopped, shocked faces were everywhere. Silence, swarmed over the church, for a moment all that could be heard was a few coins rolling under pews and spinning to the end of their journey.The people within all stood in awe and terror and stared at the doorway. The skies had become darker, the morning now could easily be mistaken for night. Lightning and thunder took over, occasionally a flash of sheet lightning lit the outside of the church up and made the street visible.
 
It seems a little rushed. There are a lot of plot points there, I'd want more detail, which would mean it would need breaking down into more paragraphs.
 
True, but I am trying to make this seem like a rapid moving scene.. Like BAM! it's happening and it ain't stopping to pick no one up... Ugh.. This is like my millionth book losing it ;/ Thanks for the thoughts. I'll ponder it over this coffee.
 
Hi Angel--Maybe it is possible to convey the imminence of the moment with more descriptive devices rather than brevity alone. Also, maybe alternate the sentence lengths and beginning articles some? Many of them start with "the".

Just some thoughts.

InPeace,
InLove
 
InLove said:
Hi Angel--Maybe it is possible to convey the imminence of the moment with more descriptive devices rather than brevity alone. Also, maybe alternate the sentence lengths and beginning articles some? Many of them start with "the".

Just some thoughts.

InPeace,
InLove
Click to expand...

:eek: See!?! I didn't even freaking notice that! I need more coffee and more hours work... ;/
 
... Halfway through this calm and pleasant song, an almighty flash and cracking sound came from the skies. Lightning had struck just outside the church door. The force and sheer power of the lightning bolt thrust the large church door open. Smashing back against a small donations stand, it sent the loose change, bowl and stand flying. Rebounding off the wall it creaked off it’s top hinge. The organ and singing stopped, shocked faces were everywhere. Silence, swarmed over the church, for a moment all that could be heard was a few coins rolling under pews and spinning to the end of their journey.The people within all stood in awe and terror and stared at the doorway. The skies had become darker, the morning now could easily be mistaken for night. Lightning and thunder took over, occasionally a flash of sheet lightning lit the outside of the church up and made the street visible.


From fear, the preacher farted then, a loud, wet rasper. It echoed around the hushed congregation, the fall out from his ass so thick one could almost taste it, ripe and peaty, like Momma's meatloaf, and as he serruptitiously reached down the back of his cassock he realised he had followed through, and his fingers were now tinged with his own excrement.
 
Any better? ;/



It was the middle of October, the wind was cold, and chilled to the bone. The sky was grey and angry, a storm was growing. It showed dominance over the entire land. Trees were fruitless and barren and their few remaining leaves fell and scattered randomly and hustled their way through the winds. Standing out like falling ambers, that crash landed upon the icy and wet coble stone ground. They like others, were on a downward spiral, the end of their path was close and inevitable all they could do was helplessly sit back and watch. Yet near a small village named Moorhaven, a small group had began to gather this early Sunday morning. An unusual aura came off them, it was like a beam of light, as bright as the sun. This was truly alien to it’s surroundings, this aura burst from each and everyone of them and battled to keep the grey and darkness of this dreary winter at bay. Small talk, jokes and friendly smiles the group rejoiced and greeted each other with warm embrace. They were preparing for their weekly church service. The small group turned around almost in unison. As another car pulled up. “Morning, preacher!” a voice said from the small crowd. Opening his car door the preacher smiled and scrambled out, looking upon the small crowd with the same warm bright beacon of aura. Shutting his car door, he tightly wrapped a scarf around his neck and buttoned up the last few remaining buttons on his dark jacket. Then in a very jolly mood began to walk, almost skipping towards the church followed by two young choir boys. “Hope you’ve all brought your singing voices today!” He said in a soft humours voice as he walked towards the church with the wind pushing into him, which was starting to build to quite a force. Struggling up the small pathway, he placed his key into the door, at this point there was a crack of thunder, and the very light sprinkling of rain, inceased its rate and wieght tenfold, it began to heavily descend down upon them. Rushing the preacher opened the door and encouraged everyone to hurry up and get into the dry. They did not have to wait for a second invitation, the flock stampeded like rabid sheep past the preacher and into the shelter of the house of their god.

As the people calmed down and slowed their pace, and began to take their seats. Finally the priest entered the church, and shut the very large dark oak door behind him, brushing off the rain he walked towards the front of the church followed by the two choirboys and an old lady. Standing front and centre, on a very small stage like platform by a centre stand is where the preacher took his place. By the side of this stage the two young boys sat, and just in front of the small oak bench the two boys sat upon was an organ and the old lady sat down at the organ. “Let’s start with a song shall we?” The preacher said in his ever so friendly and comforting, yet a hint of high self importance and authority tone. “If you would turn with me please, to page six… A mighty fortress is our god.” The old woman, began to release harsh and dulling notes from within the organ, everyone stood and started to sing from their song books. Halfway through this calm and pleasant song, an almighty flash and cracking sound came from the skies. Lightning had struck just outside the church door. From the sheer power and force of the lightning bolt thrust the large church door open. Smashing back against a small donations stand, it sent the loose change, bowl and stand flying. Rebounding off the wall it creaked off it’s top hinge. Organ noise and the bland early morning singing stopped, shocked faces were everywhere. Silence, swarmed over the church, for a moment all that could be heard was a few coins rolling under pews and spinning to the end of their journey. Everyone within that had been witness stood in awe and terror and stared at the doorway. Grey unwelcoming skies had become darker, the morning now could easily be mistaken for night. Lightning and thunder took over, occasionally a flash of sheet lightning lit the outside of the church up and made the street visible.
 
It's reading better, Angel. I'm glad you kept the part about the coins rolling in the stunned silence. That's such a vivid image and so symbolic. I might dress up the punctuation a bit, but then I am a punctuation abuser. (My latest addiction is parentheses.) But you know not to bother with that too much until after the writing is done.

Only have minutes at a time today to check in. Still working....

InPeace,
InLove
 
Francis....now if the lightning had lit that fart...


Angel....to me I don't want to hear "Its a dark and stormy night" I want to hear everything that implies its a dark and stormy night....I want the picture to develop in my head from your words...it is awfully fun, but to me if you can pull some of the obvious out and make the narrative allow my brain to fill those words back in...you got me.

You have your train wreck happening, I am sucked in wanting to know more...but I want you to leave a little artisitic license for my neuronet to fill in...
 
wil said:
Francis....now if the lightning had lit that fart...


Angel....to me I don't want to hear "Its a dark and stormy night" I want to hear everything that implies its a dark and stormy night....I want the picture to develop in my head from your words...it is awfully fun, but to me if you can pull some of the obvious out and make the narrative allow my brain to fill those words back in...you got me.

You have your train wreck happening, I am sucked in wanting to know more...but I want you to leave a little artisitic license for my neuronet to fill in...
Click to expand...


Nice advice, thank you. :)
 
It was mid October, the wind was violent, cold, and chilled to the bone. The sky was grey and angry, in the far distance darker clouds slowly drew near, lurking like a predator. Every so often, a rumble came rolling from above the clouds, followed shortly by quick flashes of bright light, that rushed through the holes of the thick blanket. Aggravated, became the winds provoking the mystifying dark ungovernable clouds of brutal force, to march on and begin destruction. They clearly showed dominance over the entire land and skies, placing a dull shadow upon everything within it’s path, consumed into it’s void. Leaving nothing but, a trail of gloom and harder hitting rain, which stormed with pure aggression to oppress. Trees were fruitless and barren, struggling to stand their ground, and their few remaining leaves fell and scattered randomly and hustled their way through the winds. As if perchance, they knew what laid in store, without hesitation beat their retreat and began to flee. Standing out like falling ambers, that crash landed upon the icy and wet cobbled stone ground. These leaves like others, were on a downward spiral, the end of their path was close and inevitable all they could do was helplessly sit back and watch. As their final stop, their awaiting grave, became closer and closer.


Anything?
 
Hi Angel--

I have cobwebs in my head today. Maybe, if you'd be interested, I can get back to you with some comments later on in the week. What do you think?

I am thinking that you shouldn't tone down your style too much, but write the way you write. Ultimately it is you who can make this opening a grabber!

Anyway, if you have time, give me some and I'll come back and say something that hopefully helps.

InPeace,
InLove
 
Time. I know--no one can give me time. My time is my own. Sort of. Right? :)
 
Hi Angel--

Been taking some time ;) to really read your succesive drafts. I am noticing that you seem to be drawing some from your military experience. I think this is probably a writing strongsuit for you, because when we write what we know, we can really paint the picture.

I don't usually engage in rearranging, but I had some ideas that I thought might be helpful. It won't offend me at all if you don't like them or think they are corny. And I'm not trying to re-write what you have. Just throwing something out there for your consideration. You can use it if you want, but I think it's better if you see it as suggestions, because you are a talented writer, and probably more than I. I just thought if you heard your ideas from another perspective and a little different order, it might help energize your muse. :)

Hope it's okay with you that I submit this. :eek:

It was mid-October. Menacing grey clouds dominated the frozen landscape, advancing over the barren countryside, announcing themselves with increasing rhythm like the beating and rolling of a drum. A bone-chilling wind invaded the land near the small village of Moorhaven, ripping the few remaining leaves off the fruitless trees, forcing them from their peaceful rest up into the swirling chaos that suddenly careened around corners of buildings and through the almost empty alleys.

Like I said, just offering a spark from my own feeble thoughts. :)

InPeace,
InLove
 
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