[Maud]

Synopsis: After a tragic death, Tristian is presented with a second chance.



Cold sweat ran down Tristan's searing face. He began to slow down, his body struggling against the voice of his mind urging him to run faster. Sounds of heavy footsteps came from down the hallway, growing louder with each moment's lapse. Tristan moved towards the endless rooms quickly checking to make sure they were all locked. He had always been able to out run what was behind him, so he slowed down to a moderate walk. His head still persued the idea of running; fear crept into his body, in the place tiredness once fulfilled. Fear is a powerful motivator and rejuvenator, so his feet moved one more. His fear became depression and a door awaited him ajar, at the place where the hall turned. Tristan pushed his last bit of spirit into his feet and nearly dove into the room, slamming the door behind him. His index finger pressed the lock down and he moved over to the wall. Sometimes the predator attempted to enter, and others it did not. The back of Tristan lay against the wall in a heap on the floor.

The ever present moonlight seeped in through the open window, curtains dancing in tune with the warm breeze. The curtains were black as was the tone of most of the room. Furniture: a chest of drawers and bed were made of a dark undefined wood, the pieces simple and utilitarian. The door he had closed shook with an inhuman manner, and a hateful ferocity. It was the cold chill he had faced so many times before. It seemed as if it would twist the door, and it flowed into the rooms through the crack underneath the door and into the chamber. The chill slammed the window shut, and turned Tristan's heart to a block of ice. His eyes stared into the fear of his own heart and the reality of his own mortality.

His body was motionless, and one could see the shadows underneath the crack in the door. He inched back into the wall, into a false sense of protection. Then as quickly as the chill had come it had gone, shaking the door once more on its way out. He sat there motionless for a while before he realized how long he had been in here. He jumped up and waited in the middle of the room. The wall he had once leaned on turned into darkness, to the infinity of nothingness. Slowly this darkness crept its way towards Tristan. He walked out of the room with nothing on his mind. As he strolled out back into the hallway, in a way in which he was forced by the darkness, he met with the depravity of life he had lived with for the longest time.

This silence reminded him of the life he had led before he was here and then down the hall another door opened creaking into nothingness. He moved into the room, not knowing why, but an unforgettable instinct always drove him to do so. The room had white walls, a single twin bed, and toys spread across the floor. Moonlight shone its way, shadows of clouds on the floor. Tristan picked up an action figure in hand looked at it fondly and placed it back down. His eyes transformed into burdens as the need for sleep reached him. He rested his head on the pillow and slept on a bed that was much too small for his body.

When he awoke he still had memories of childhood on his mind. The door stayed closed but not locked, and the moon still stood when he got up. His memories went on to his adolescence and with a blink of his eye the room had changed. Posters appeared on the wall, with faces white washed. A stereo played loud static, the room still in disarray but not with toys but with clothes. His television played the same white snow as it did when it received no signal. He sat there for a moment and remembered the last thing he could before he arrived at the manor.

Tristan walked out into the dark. The bustle of the city was ever present, and a man played a violin on the corner for change. As he walked back to his car he passed the man playing a bad tune and threw some change into the case. A woman walked by her shoulders colliding with his and she fell onto the pavement. She threw a curse on him, shook off the dirt of the city, and walked towards something that meant nothing to Tristian. He had darker skin back then and a thick Italian accent.

He had been at work too long but they had a big merger coming up, and there was always overtime. There was a grin on his face and perhaps even a little spring in his step. He turned the corner, into an alley so he would not have to go all the way down the block, around another when he could just cut through. The tall man stepped over bags of garbage, and ducked under the ladder of a rusted fire escape. He was about to step out of the near total darkness into the full moon's light when a man stood blocking his path. Tristan breathed deeply now his heart a drum, the percussion of this city's symphony.

"Give me your fucking wallet man!" The mugger had deep set red eyes. His body was scrawny his skull pressing up against the skin. His hair was raggedy, his face tired. Tristan reached for his wallet and presented it to the man.

The other took it, but behind someone yelled, "Police stop!" The one who had robbed Tristian reached inside his cheap black coat, drew out a gun and shot the officer dead. He turned the gun to Tristan, and with an expressionless face shot himdead in the chest. tristan did not fall down on my own accord he pushed Tristan to the ground, and stepped on my suit. He lay there staring at the sky, starless, and let his eyes close.

The room collapsed into the darkness, quickly and violently, and Tristan was forced out. Across the hall was another room. He ran into there, the door shutting behind him. This room had walls of scarlet red. There was no bed here. On the walls were trophies of brilliant hunts, and weapons that required deadly skill. A bearskin rug lay on the floor, no windows here. Tristan thought of the hate of that mugger, the addict. This feeling of loathing turned into his situation in general. He pounded on the walls yelling words no one could hear. The walls turned redder now, the animals seemed to glare at him. After tiring himself out new feelings set in. Depression and remorse began as he remembered his wife, his infant child he had abandoned. The room slowly turned into darkness, but Tristan was quick he jumped over a puddle of darkness and went for a rifle. He held it in his hands thinking. Slowly the darkness stopped, he held the gun in his hand. Tristan was not a man who could commit the deed he was considering, too weak willed, and he placed it down. The darkness flew at him and surrounded him.
Out of the darkness arose a figure, it had no features but had a human shape. It was as if a sheet of black had been placed on the floor, and a person rose up, the sheet shaping itself into his figure. Tristan had seen this thing before, he had run from it, hid from it, and nearly fell into its grasp. It extended its hand flew at him and Tristan was sure to duck. He leaped over the darkness, his left foot on the brink of the darkness, and it seemed as if it was a pit and the floor of this room was falling. The thing walked, nay slid, over towards his body growing ever larger. He jolted to the right, and used the wall as footing to jump over him, he whipped around but Tristan was in the hallway.

The hallway turned into darkness as more fear gripped him. The darkness transformed like the other had, into beings of fright. They reached for Tristian as he dove through more of the hallway. Slowly fear turned into anger, then anger into weariness; not weariness from weakness but from this life in this house as he had lived it. That is when at the end of the hallway, what would usually be an infinite passage transformed into a flight of stairs. Tristian slid down the banister and flew down the stairs. When he arrived down at the landing of the stairs he saw the foyer as it was. The stairs were of oak with an elaborate rug cascading down them. There were two staircases; the one he had come from was on the left. The two merged into one, which led to a heavy looking door. The darkness evaporated from the hallway when he stepped onto the stairs. He moved up to the other staircase and saw another hallway. At the end of the hallway, he saw himself. Tristian was laying down in an operating room (He knew this only because of the movies he watched) and a doctor stood standing frozen over him. The scene was frozen.

Tristian moved into the hallway and saw that this sight was behind a doorway with the door open. For a long time now he had lived in the other hall running away from the dark. This here was a passage to his old life, another chance. Out of curiosity he went back down the stairs, and into the foyer. There were the set of large doors in front of him closed. Inscribed over the door was "Nex exsisto per is ianua." a phrase he knew to be Latin but beyond that nothing. Tristian moved forward towards it and before he could reach it a puddle of darkness appeared.

Arising from it a figure spoke from a booming voice, "I am Fear." He spoke with strength. "Three paths lay before you. You have come from two and can return to either. This one has no end, and therefore is one way. I the darkness could lay behind it, this you do not know. You do know what lay beyond that others since you have lived them. Go through this door with the words 'Death is behind this door' in Latin and meet with it as it promises you. But know that I am blocking you and will not let you pass."

Tristan looked behind him at his old life, paying no attention to the hallway where once he had dwelled, he thought for a moment and looked at he who called himself Fear. At this moment he hated the Fear in one, and new that the other was just a lease. He was about to begin his ascension to the second staircase when he stopped. That door is fate; it will be eventually as it is now.

"I will face my fate without fear." He spoke out loud. Tristian stepped through Fear and into Death.
______________________________ ______________________________ ___________________

POE,
Muad'Dib

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[Arnklit]

Hi Muad, sorry this took so long.

I had to use a lot of energy to peal of the layers of bad grammar and illogical descriptions, to get down to the crux of this story and afterwards I wasn't really sure that it was worth it.

You have a lot of descriptions of Tristan running around in the mansion, fearing this and that. You start out like this and we don't really get what is going on and we actually don't really care yet. You either need to give us some foothold in the story from the beginning or make the descriptions so beautiful and fascinating that you'll grab the reader.

You also have a scene in the mansion that's almost described like an action movie scene (the one where the dark figure appears and he flees). This really doesn't fit in and doesn't do anything for the story.

The entire story is chunky as you tell us that, Tristan did that and Tristan felt this. Show us instead and give us a more logical chain of events.

You're information flow and sentence construction is illogical:
The ever present moonlight seeped in through the open window, curtains dancing in tune with the warm breeze. The curtains were black as was the tone of most of the room.
It gives no logic to mention that the curtains are dancing in the window sentence and then making a new sentence to tell us that they are black and mention there that the rest of the room is that too. The first thing you would mention if you stepped into that room was that everything was black. "The entire room was black, even the curtains dancing in the warm breeze, around the ray of moonlight" would make more sense to me (I know I cut a lot in my sentence, but it was just to show the order).

And right after that you do this:
Furniture: a chest of drawers and bed were made of a dark undefined wood, the pieces simple and utilitarian.
What the heck is this? This totally wrecks the flow of the piece, don't use colons.

and turned Tristan’s heart to a block of ice.
Why a block of ice? Why not simply ice, you might have some obscure reason for this, but if you don't then cut stuff like this when it takes you nowhere.

His body was motionless, and one could see the shadows underneath the crack in the door.
Who is "one"? Tristan is the only one in the room, say Tristan or he.

He jumped up and waited in the middle of the room.
Why should you jump up (implying that you are in a rush) to stand and wait?

Slowly this darkness crept its way towards Tristan.
Slowly is an unnecessary adverb as crept already implies slowness.

As he strolled out back into the hallway,
Strolled implies relaxation and at ease and it doesn't seem like feelings for the house of fear, doors and death.

His television played the same white snow as it did when it received no signal.
People know what you mean if you mention white snow on the screen, this is unnecessary and tiresome.

Tristan did not fall down on my own accord he pushed Tristan to the ground,
This should be self-explanatory.

The room collapsed into the darkness, quickly and violently,
Two pretty excessive adverbs - most collapses are quick and violent.

There was no bed here.
You make this mistake a couple of times, "here" belongs in first-person POV.

Out of the darkness arose a figure, it had no features but had a human shape. It was as if a sheet of black had been placed on the floor, and a person rose up, the sheet shaping itself into his figure.
This is a very long and repetitive description to tell us that a dark featureless human figure rises.

The thing walked, nay slid,
This undecided voice does not fit in with the rest of the stories voice.

, he whipped around but Tristan was in the hallway.
he is the dark featureless creature in this sentence, which is a bit confusing, because you might think it is Tristan, it also takes the eeriness away from the creature to just call it "he" all of a sudden.

Tristan slid down the banister and flew down the stairs.
Sliding down the banister may be the fastest way to descend the stairs, but it sounds boyish and does not fit in, in this dark piece.

Go through this door with the words ‘Death is behind this door’ in Latin and meet with it as it promises you.
I don't know why you wanted this passage to be Latin in the first place, I doubt they speak Latin in heaven and hell even though it is a cool old language, but never mind that. What is really silly is that this god/monster mentions that it is in Latin and that just sounds so stupid.

I know I didn't go much into the meaning of your story, but I really think you need to work a lot on this stuff first.

Good luck with your writing Muad.

[Maud]

I admit there are lots of plot issues, so let me say this, I wrote it for the meaning not for theme, my first theme driven story. It didnt work out well here as I can see, but it was meant more as an expirement then anything else.

[BookWhale***]

Ok - here are a few things I found that needs tweaking (possibly??? your call...)

Tristan moved towards the endless rooms quickly checking to make sure they were all locked.

- Maybe you should say, "torwards the endless rooms, making sure the doors where all locked," apposed to just rooms.

Fear is a powerful motivator and rejuvenator, so his feet moved one more.

- Maybe you should say "once" instead?

His fear became depression and a door awaited him ajar, at the place where the hall turned.

- I don't know about you, but I think this would sound better if you made this two sentances instead of on. Maybe make "His fear became depression," one sentance. I think it would sound better, and it would build more intensity as well.

Sometimes the predator attempted to enter, and others it did not.

- Sorry, but this sentance just does not make sense to me. Maybe reword it?

This silence reminded him of the life he had led before he was here and then down the hall another door opened creaking into nothingness.

- I think this needs to be split in half. The sentance does not have the same idea. Take out the "and" and replace it with a period, is what I suggest.

did not fall down on my own accord he pushed Tristan to the ground, and stepped on my suit. He lay there staring at the sky, starless, and let his eyes close.

- Muad, periods are you friends! Use them more often, so you don't have run on sentances.

He ran into there, the door shutting behind him.

- Take out the "into!"

Ok Muad, I found some other places where perhaps you needed to take out the commas, and replace with a period. But, maybe you should find these places yourself, for practice.

The story was pretty good, although I don't really think this falls in the horror category. This seems to be more of a phisilogical peice to me.

[Peppy]

I wasn't going to respond but...

I like this story. One of your best... I guess. Anyways, I enjoyed some of the symbolism(the way I interpretted it).

Such a cheap comment eh?

[seebaruk]

Hey Muad, an interesting and different story, with some sound ideas. I agree with a lot of what Arnklit said, good advice for tightening it up. The sentence that I really stumbled with was 'tristan did not fall down on my own accord he pushed Tristan to the ground, and stepped on my suit.' But overall, a good piece of writing there.

[Syrah]

His head still persued the idea of running; fear crept into his body, in the place tiredness once fulfilled.

Pursued.

Sometimes the predator attempted to enter, and others it did not.

Doesn't sound right. Like you're watching a narration of the wild kingdom instead of reading a story.

The back of Tristan lay against the wall in a heap on the floor.

Sounds like his back is a heap on the floor. hmm.

There's a lot of Tristian typos. Typed Tristan many times.

His hair was raggedy, his face tired.

I think it sounds better just as ragged. With your style of word use, raggedy seems out of place.

The one who had robbed Tristian reached inside his cheap black coat, drew out a gun and shot the officer dead. He turned the gun to Tristan, and with an expressionless face shot himdead in the chest. tristan did not fall down on my own accord he pushed Tristan to the ground, and stepped on my suit.

Obviously---Tristian. And himdead needs a space in between.

For the most part, any editing was already mentioned by BookWhale and Arnklit. However, this is what was going through my mind while reading it...

You keep the audience interested (if they're not too picky about all the typos and grammar mistakes---arnklit) but it almost seemed like the end didn't justify the rest of the story. Mind you, I like this, but I think you need more information in the climax/conclusion so the reader gets a sense of what's actually happening. It almost seems pointless. Good beginning, but more development would really help this story along.

And I admit. I was half tempted to just say Great Job! lol. jk

O and oops on the rating. I keep forgetting about that dang thing.

[RENA HANDS]

What about

…Tristan picked up an action figure looked(looking) at it fondly then placed back down.?

(Just because one assumes that when you pick something up, you are using one’s own hand(s).

What about

…His eyes weighed down with the heaviness of sleep.?

What about

…As he awoke memories of his childhood still plagued his mind.?

I wouldn’t say…He had darker skin back then and a thick Italian accent. Just say…His skin was darker then and he had a stronger Italian accent.?

Why not say

…The mugger accepted it, but behind him someone yelled, “Police stop!” The assailant or robber reached deep inside his cheap black coat…?

You need a space between “him dead.” Then capitalize Tristan. Say…Tristan didn’t fall on his own accord…Actually that sentence is a bit awkward.

What about

…He ran in there shutting the door behind him.?

Would weapons require “deadly skill?” Wouldn’t be precise skill or handling?

What about

…Tristan thought of the hatred he had for that mugger, the (something) addict.?

What about…The walls of crimson smeared/washed/dripped of dark blood as the animals seemed to glare at him.?

Wouldn’t a comma be warranted here because you are separating two thoughts? After tiring himself out, new feelings set in. (The sentence itself still seems awkward.)

What about

…Depression and remorse washed over him/drowned him as he remembered his abandoned wife and infant child.?

There should be a space between that paragraph and the following…and surrounded him.Out of the darkness…

Other words for darkness, dimness, dusk, murkiness possibly vagueness.

What about

…it had no definite features but a human contour.?

Wouldn’t it be

…the sheet shaping itself into this figure.?

What about

…It(As) it extended its hand this creature lashed out at him, Tristan ducked to avoid contact.?

What about

…He leaped over this fiend, his left foot brushing the brink of its darkness. A bottomless pit swirled/formed under its feet sucking the floor of this room in.?

As one is running from “fear” or “darkness” would the description of a rug be relevant?

…this sight was behind a doorway with the door open.?

This seems a bit awkward.

It should be…

A phrase he…

A Latin phrase with no meaning/significance to him.?

That's a very long sentence of (for me personally) awkward speech.

A bit vague and rushed for me, but with an interesting underline plot.

[Durlabh Singh]

The story started with a good atmospheric description but then got stuck and did not move due to lack of plot. With its dark undertone it could be turn into a dtetective thriller.The writer has the talent and should move forward.

Good luck.

Durlabh.