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Rolling Thunder

Rolling Thunder

A Story by Shadkim

Perry had always grown up without the love of a father. When the war blows a lone mercenary into the village, Perry starts developing a bond with him.... a father and son story.


Clumps of gray clouds gathered above their heads as the sun began to melt below the horizon. The sky was the color of ripe oranges despite the approaching storm; the warm blaze from the sinking sun enveloped two lone men standing in a field of tall grass.  


Hiram stood off to the side with his arms crossed, watching the younger man with mild curiosity. He moved very little, only to offer suggestions, and the grim line of his lips formed a permanent frown. He was in his late thirties but it was hard to tell at first glance. He had a young glow about him, wrinkles absent on his smooth face. He wore an outfit of royal blue that hugged his firm body. His mane of auburn hair, disheveled from exercise, ended at the nape of his neck. Even with his youthful appearance, he held himself like a man wise beyond his years. His eyebrows frequently seemed to meet; this gave Hiram the impression that he was always struggling with thoughts. “Keep your sword lower!” He barked, noticing the young man’s slouching stance.


“But why?” Perry whined, dropping his heavy sword on the ground. It flattened the grass where it landed. He ran a hand through his unruly brown hair and sighed loudly. Perry wore a vibrant red outfit that enhanced his sinewy limbs mottled with fresh bruises. “I really don’t see the difference.”


For the fifth time that hour, Hiram withdrew his sword from its scabbard. The topaz jewel on the hilt glittered brilliantly in the warm light. “Watch,” He ordered, positioning himself the way Perry had done. The sword was at his chin, leaving his chest and stomach open for attack. “If you lower the sword, it makes it harder for an enemy to come up your side and land a good blow,” He explained, his low voice rumbling with practiced patience, “It offers you a bit of protection, if not a few more seconds, to compose yourself and counter attack.”


Perry mumbled under his breath.


“Do you want me to show you?”


Perry pressed a hand to his aching ribs and flinched. “N-No thanks.”


“Don’t act like an old man,” Hiram growled, “Have some dignity.”


Perry bit back a retort and chose instead to wipe the sticky sweat from his forehead. His young bones creaked with effort as he placed his sword back in his scabbard. Before his country declared war, all he did was attend school with the other children of the village and smack things around with pretend weapons. Growing up on the edge of a peaceful era, he was not trained properly in the art of fighting. Where his body failed, however, his spirit made up for it. He would not back down from the inevitable fighting, not when an invasion from the neighboring lands had become more than a rumor. Remembering that vow, he turned back to Hiram. “Look,” He started, “I know I can be a pain. I’m sorry for it. I know you could be doing other things right now instead of dealing with me.”


“That may be,” He answered easily, “but your grandmother paid me to give you lessons. I’m just keeping my end of the deal.”


“Impersonal as always.”


“Is that a problem?” Hiram asked, his lips twitching. He put away his sword, the metal singing as it slid into the scabbard.  


Perry shrugged. “I just find it hard to believe that your only reason for staying is the money.”


Hiram tensed, almost as if his insides frosted over with stiff ice.


Perry, oblivious, flashed a grin at his master. “I think you like me,” he added cheekily.


Hiram’s eyebrows fiercely met, causing premature lines to crease his forehead. His voice was low and dangerous. “Don’t flatter yourself. I am a mercenary through and through. As soon as you’re ready, I’ll be moving on.”


Perry snorted.


“I may even be employed by the other country… you may be fighting me.”


“That’s what you say,” Perry said softly, “but I can’t help but think that there is something else.”


A sound like an explosion broke through the sky, shaking the ground underneath their feet. The clouds were low in the sky, murky and clumpy like bad oatmeal. A streak of white light struck the ground miles away from them and the sky rumbled in pleasure.


Hiram let out the breath he didn’t realize he held, silently thanking the heavens for its perfect interruption. Perry was still staring up at the sky, his mouth gaping with his head tilted back. Hiram wanted to chuckle. That, or smack the boy over the head. Instead, he watched with a mixture of amusement and sudden seriousness, studying Perry’s face like he would never get another chance. He looks like her, He thought, and another flash broke across the sky.


Perry lowered his head, still spinning with the awe of the powerful storm. The wind around them picked up, cooling the sweat on their bodies. “Looks pretty bad,” He murmured.


Hiram agreed. “We had better call it a day.”


“You go ahead,” Perry smiled, nodding behind him in the direction of the village. “I just want a few more minutes, you know? It’s the first time in a while that I can practice without all that heat.”


With the last of the sun covered up by the sticky clouds, all the warmth of the humid, summer day was gone. “Alright,” He said, checking his cloak. It was tied tight around his neck. Perry waved to his retreating form and pulled out his sword again, fighting invisible enemies hidden in the tall grass. Hiram smiled and pulled the hood over his head.


The back of Hiram’s cloak followed him like a blue wave, flying and swirling as the angry wind lapped at it. The cloak did little to protect him from the approaching rain, but it was a comfort. His feet bent the grass in front of him as he trudged towards the wooden houses in the distance. He could smell the smoke from the chimneys and could see the lights of candles floating in windows. A few more paces and he entered the village, kicking up loose dirt as he passed a few people. They were last-minute stragglers or curious folk that wanted to watch the storm. It was rare, after all, for storms to reach this far south. He could see the faces of tiny children pressed against the windows, waiting for the rain to fall. As he came to the Green Inn, he heard shrieks and laughter when the lightening flashed.


A healthy fire was crackling in the lobby of the Green Inn, a quaint place to stay for weary travelers. Though it was behind on many comforts he was used to in bigger villages, Hiram thought highly of the place. The warm hospitality was enough to keep him charmed. A small, wrinkled old woman peeked around the corner, grinning widely when she saw him. Her name was Vivian, owner of the inn and Perry’s grandmother. She did not let him hang up his cloak; she dragged him into the kitchen and made him sit while she grabbed a warm loaf of bread.


“So how was Perry today?” She asked, slicing the bread carefully with her shaky hands. “Has he improved much? I surely hope so; it means so much to him to finally have lessons.”


“He is improving,” Hiram acknowledged. She offered him a slice and he gratefully took it, biting into the fluffy bread. Freshly baked, it almost dissolved like melted cheese in his mouth.


“It’s nice to see him working towards something,” Vivian admitted, seating herself in a chair next to his. She took a piece of bread but did not eat it immediately. She picked at it, peeling the crust as she spoke, “I was worried that he would never find something he was passionate about.”


Hiram nodded, watching the old woman intently.


“You know,” She smiled, “I was so happy the day I found Perry. My husband had died a few years ago and I was awfully lonely.” Her eyes glazed over, and a dreamy smile lit her face. “I took a trip to the nearby city to see what I could learn from other inns. I was overwhelmed by the vast numbers of people and wandered to the outskirts in order to escape the ruckus; I didn’t walk far before discovering Perry.”


A feeling akin to frozen ice traveled up through his throat, locking his words in place. His eyes locked onto her face, and his breathing became forced.


“He was such a little thing, so vulnerable,” Vivian sighed, shaking her head wearily. “When I tried to help him, he couldn’t remember anything but his name. I took him home with me and have been caring for him ever since. He feels like my child but we both know that his parents could still be out there. They were important; I can’t believe that they would abandon their child without a good reason. When I found him, I knew he was loved.”


The bread sat uneaten on the table. Hiram’s fingers dug into the table, tense and strong, “Why are you telling me this?” He asked hoarsely.


“Oh, it could be the jabbering of an old lady,” She said lazily. “But I’ve had my suspicions.”


Hiram had a tough time swallowing. The thunder outside seemed to pound on his brain.


Vivian twirled a finger absently on the table, saying, “I noticed there was something different about you, Mr. Mercenary. Not many of your kind come by here since our village is labeled as unprofitable. If you were a part of a guild you would know that. I offer you so little money and I really am cheating you, even if it’s the best I can do. You stay here without complaining.


“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him. Whenever you think he’s not looking you watch him. You show more interest in him than a swordsmanship teacher would show. You pretend to look away, to be preoccupied, but are aware of everything that Perry says.” She watched him now, her eyes twinkling. She noticed the color drain from his face. She continued, “And most of all, you talk to him a certain way. You talk to him roughly, calling out all his flaws with little hesitation. You want him to learn so many things. You talk to him like a father would.”


“F-Father?” Hiram gulped, breathing hard. His stomach rolled as he watched the withered woman. “What are you trying to say?” he whispered.


“I am saying that I think you are the boy’s father,” Vivian stated, crossing her arms and grinning. “From the way you are acting now, I would assume I am correct.” She tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully, “Now that you found him, what will you do? I think you should tell him, of course. That, and you owe him an explanation.” Her voiced turned a little sour, “I think he needs to know why he was abandoned.”


Hiram gave a shaky sigh. There was no use hiding it now. He closed his eyes, willing himself to breathe carefully, “I-” he started, gathering his shaken and scattered thoughts.


“You owe me no story, Hiram,” She said softly, “The one who has to know is Perry.”


An iron sword strung the wood floor as if it were suddenly dropped; the startling sound caused Vivian and Hiram to turn their heads. Perry stood half-hidden in the doorway, his face as white as Hiram’s. The fire made his wide eyes shine, or was it tears? His voice shook as he murmured, “I… heard everything.” He ignored his fallen sword and stumbled into the room like a stunned solider. Hiram noticed the speckles of rain on his clothes. He could not bring himself to look at the boy’s face.


Vivian attempted to clear the awkwardness, smiling sweetly at Perry and saying, “Well, good to see you got back before the rain. Why don’t you sit down and have some bread?”


Perry ignored his grandmother. His teeth clattered despite the warmth of the fire and his crinkled his nose in an attempt to understand. “Is it true?” he whispered, “Are you my father?”


Hiram finally dared to look at his son. Perry’s young face was distorted by the emotions he easily recognized. Ones he was afraid of. He shivered himself, still gripping the table, and tried to sound calm, “I am.” A flash of lightning lit up the room.


“T-then why did you leave me?” Perry asked; his words soaked with tucked away emotions. Anger quickly rose to the surface, taking over his mind like a heightened disease. Before he could hold back, the words dribbled from his lips like acid, “Why the hell did you come back?”


Hiram twitched as he heard the words. They sliced through his skin like the points of blades, sending waves of dread all along his body. I should have been prepared for this, He thought regrettably.He could not take the fury that erupted from Perry. The sorrow, anger, and pain surrounded Perry like a wave of energy and Hiram felt it all being directed at him. It suffocated him, froze him where he sat. After the words were spoken, Perry actually looked guilty.


Another rumble of thunder exploded and Hiram toppled over his chair. With Perry and Vivian shouting after him, Hiram burst through the other exit and out the back door. He jumped off the back steps and was pelted with heavy rain.


There was no sign of the moon or stars; the clouds had twisted into an ugly, clumpy mass. Hiram heard only the sound of his skipping heartbeat as he ran blindly out of the village. Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum. The heavy beat seemed to thunder through his body and pulse out his ears. He gasped as the cold water soaked his clothing and reached his skin. Another flash and Hiram released fresh tears.


The sky groaned and heaved but it did not stop Hiram from running. His legs shook, bidding him to stop. His lungs burned as he exhaled little clouds. Up ahead, he spotted a large tree; its roots rose from the ground. He ducked and entered the small hollow, wiping at his eyes.


“I’m a coward,” he whimpered, rubbing his hands together. A tear streaked down his cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. “After all I’ve been through… how could I let this scare me?”


The answer was apparent. Hiram was scared of rejection. For the past twelve years, Hiram hoped and prayed that his son was alive. He spent most of those years on the run, hiding from enemies that were off to finish the job they had started. He held the faint hope that his son would accept him. He hoped that he would have been given the chance to explain. The chance to love his son.


As soon as he discovered Perry’s whereabouts, Hiram invented the tale of being a mercenary and planted himself in the Green Inn. He watched his son like a hawk, trying to get to know the boy. He offered to give him lessons and struggled to bond with him. It had been tough, but rewarding. Hiram had reached the point where he wanted to tell Perry the truth. I thought I was ready to tell him, Hiram sighed, but then Vivian had to surprise me. The way he spoke to me – such vehemence – he probably wants nothing to do with me. He hates me. I should have known. It serves me right.       


The rain lightened to a drizzle but the storm did not let up. The thunder seemed to be rumbling more regular and lightning burst through the skin of his eyelids. It was dangerous to be under the tree. “Getting myself killed won’t solve anything,” mumbled Hiram. “I should find Perry. I need to try.”


“… Hiram!”


Squinting his eyes, Hiram saw a figure in the distance.


“…are you?” His voice was smothered by the thunder, but the bold, red clothing was unmistakable.


“Perry,” He breathed, running a shaky hand through his hair. The wind suddenly picked up and a strange, prickly feeling climbed up his arms. His stomach seemed to house an empty void, making his heart pant like an anxious dog. He felt this way only once before. The last time he reacted too late. His Cynthia had died. He would not make the same mistake again.


Hiram charged across the field as if chased by death itself. He had one hand resting on the hilt of his sword and other pumping beside him. His almost lost his footing a few times, slipping on the sleek grass. Mud rose from his boots and clung to his cloak – he untied it and let it fly into the air. Perry was getting close now, only a few more feet. His lungs seemed to groan in his chest; he was too busy gulping oxygen to call out to his son.


Perry stood his ground, his face flickering from relief to confusion. He mouthed the word “Dad,” and the sky lit up like a thousand white fires.


Hiram lunged.


The cloudy mass opened like a veil and a deadly bolt crashed down upon the earth. It fell like an arrow, straight and true, and blinded everything around it with its white hot glow. It burned a hole in the earth, decimating the thriving grass. As fast as it appeared, the lightning bolt was gone. Thunder followed, so loud it tempted to burst Hiram and Perry’s ear drums. The ground shook as Hiram hid Perry under his body. He had his hands over Perry’s ears in an attempt to shake off the blistering sound. Perry had not fought against his father; he had dropped like a stone when Hiram tackled him. As Hiram sent the sky a glare, Perry clung to him and listened to the erratic heart of his heart.


“Thank the gods,” Hiram mumbled. He sighed and helped Perry to his feet. Hiram tried to ignore the fact that Perry has trusted him. Had called him “Dad.” It was too good to be true. They stood facing each other as the sound of thunder grew faint.


“You were scared,” Perry stated, breathing heavily, “I heard your heart. Does it always do that?”


“I suppose,” Hiram laughed, dryly, “Haven’t you ever been frightened?”


“Not often,” He replied proudly, puffing out his chest. His expression became thoughtful, “So that’s why you couldn’t answer me then; why you ran away. If my heart jumped like yours, I’m sure I would have done the same thing.”


Hiram looked away, trying to calm himself. The loud thumping of his heart was back, no thanks to Perry, but he did not want to run away. What kind of person would he be then? He never wanted to be called a coward. His voice was hoarse, still sore from the running, “I’m sorry.”


Perry snapped out of his musings. His face became somber but his eyes revealed sympathy and understanding. He took a moment to answer. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’ve always been taught that yelling at people doesn’t get you answers,” He smiled sadly, “and I should have taken a second to think about what you must have been feeling. Grandmother told me how nervous you were, so I really regret what I did. I ran after you, hoping that I could find you again before you disappeared.”


“It’s understandable,” Hiram said simply.


A few stars peaked out in the holes between clouds. The wild wind cooled down, tossing the locks of both father and son. Perry smiled and asked, “What was my mother like?”


Hiram was glad that his son had figured out she was deceased; it saved the pain of having to say those words to him. The thought of Cynthia made his eyes moist, but he bit it back, focusing instead on the good memories he had. The ones he’d like his son to know. “Your mother’s name was Cynthia,” He started, “You have her hair… her cheerfulness and lazy attitude.”


“You say it so easily.”


Hiram’s mouth split into a grin, “I wouldn’t lie about that. You’re just like her. She was a beautiful woman and she loved you dearly. She died for you.”


His eyes widened.


“Cynthia and I lived in a port city the next country over. We were aware that the government had become corrupt and were planning an attack; it became a dangerous place to live. We were thinking of moving to this country and decided to take a boat over as soon as possible,” Hiram said, as if reporting the news. He could not say it personally; that would take some time. The two of them had begun to walk back towards the village. “Someone had betrayed our plans. When I went out to secure a boat, some soldiers from the army stormed our house with the intent to keep us there.


“Cynthia was alone with you when they attacked. She was able to get out of the house and ran into the woods. At the time, I felt something was wrong, but I was too late. I found your mother dying, with you still her arms.” Hiram growled, “I was in rage; I cut down the soldiers and they died with the leers still on their faces. I took you in my arms and made it to the boat.


“I knew that others soldiers would come looking for me, and you would have been in constant danger. I didn’t know if I could have protected you. When you were sleeping, I left you by the fountain. I stayed until Vivian came and took you away; it was one of the most painful things I had to do.”


Then you didn’t want to leave me” Perry said. He had a smile on his face, his eyes shining. It was not a question he was asking; it was conformation.


“No,” Hiram murmured, looking at him tenderly. “I couldn’t be parted from you; I had to find you again. You are the only family I have left, my only connection to Cynthia. I wanted to raise you, watch you grow up. I wanted to tell you everyday how much of my heart you had.”


They were at the village now, standing just outside the Green Inn. The village was quiet with only candles flickering in the windows. The air tasted musty. Perry hunched over slightly, tears glittering on his cheeks. Hiram laid a hand on his shoulder. The door to the inn creaked open and Vivian stood outside with a candle in her hand. She was smiling.


“Perry?” He whispered, turning the boy to face him.


Perry jumped into his arms, causing Hiram to teeter back a bit. The boy wrapped his arms around Hiram’s neck, burying his wet face in his father’s auburn hair. He gripped Hiram like a life preserver in a hug he never thought he would ever have. He thought he would never see his father, let alone his mother. His father had searched for years for him; his father really loved him. He had a feeling, deep in his heart, that they would work together to make up for the years lost. He looked forward to it.


Hiram patted Perry on the shoulder, a smile on his face. He threaded his fingers through the boy’s messy hair in an attempt to calm him. Perry’s tears gradually ceased. They let go and Hiram suppressed a laugh when he saw Perry’s red face.


“Dad?” He asked, wiping at his eyes. The grin reappeared.




“If I’m so much like Mom… then what did I get from you?”


Hiram ruffled Perry’s hair before turning towards the inn, “To start, you have my eyes.”


© 2009 Shadkim

Author's Note

Heavily Revised!!! Let me know what you think of it now; any improvement? :)

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Featured Review

This was a real good feel good story Shadkim. I like the build up you had in it and you kept the whole father son thing quite until the time was right. I like that you gave a back gound on the old lady too and how she met the boy. Great write!! Thanks for sharing.
Kelley Frost

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

8 of 8 people found this review constructive.


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well I still saw two or more mistakes but I am sure somewhere in your reviews people have already pointed them out to you and you have not found the time to fix them, so I will not bother wasting my and your time. Except I will tell you are a maestro of the written art, you descriptive words are turely to be amired. You completely took me into this story which is a attribute of a great writer. I am sure youmade us all feel for these characters in this beautifully written and original story. I absolutely enjoyed reading it for the way you potrayed he characters alone they were so human I loved it. Thank you for writing this.

Posted 10 Years Ago

Well I am definitely not going to point out any "flaws" because after reading the reviews given I have none left to point out. Plus, the story was too incredible to even really care about the flaws. Your description of the characters was superb as always and you imagery to me was flawless. Everytime I read your work, I feel like I am sitting down to a beautifully written novel. You should really consider publishing your work. ~Liv

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

I'm loving the imagery you portray. Loving the writing style.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Wow, i just read your story and Jacilyn's review. Both are of heroic proportions. I have never seen so many reviews on such a long story and such a long review of one. Wow. I will forgo my usual advice of chopping a story in two.

First off, are you a member of the Fantasy World Creation group? If not, join! lol.

Your story had me gripped from start to finish. Over the last few months i've got back into the fantasy genre in a big way and have begun writing it again. Pieces like yours have really got me going.

I would suggest that you put spaces in between the paragraphs. I know that makes the whole thing longer but it means i wont keep loosing my place.

I think your dialogue and descriptions were superb. It felt very fantasy and epic yet at the end it was quiet, personal and touching.

Dvd Jacket Quote:

"Magnificent" - Wulfstan Crumble.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Though there are some flaws in this story - other people have pointed them out and I have to say I found it incredibely compelling. I hope to find out more about Perry and Hiram.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

3 of 3 people found this review constructive.

Hey Shadkim, this was a very neat write and aside from a few small points that i picked up on, it seems that your writing skills are improving all the time. You have fashioned a believable and well structured world here with strongly drawn characters. I think that, so far, this is the best of yours that I have written and I enjoyed it. I see that Stacylinn has given you a huge critique so I won't bother you with a similar type of review. That said, I just noticed a couple of other points that jarred a little:

'Two lone men stood in the middle of a field of tall grass' - this was fine except that the word 'lone' pertains really to just 1 person. If there are 2 people there, can they be 'lone'?

'the grim line of his lips formed a permanent frown' - again I liked this imagery, however a frown pertains more to the eyes / brow and not so much to the mouth. Perhaps you could try, 'the grim line of his lips drew his face into a deep-seated frown' - or something like that. You can use the shape of the lips to alter the face shape. Just an idea.

And finally:
'He gripped Hiram like a life preserver' - I think this is a bit of an anachronism, that is to say that in this time of swords, life preservers wouldn't exist - perhaps you would use a metaphor that would stand up as something else from this age - 'a shattered raft in a storm' 'the mane of a bolting horse' or somethign of that style.

These were just a few ideas and I don't want you to think that it detracted in anyway from what, I thought, was a very good piece of work. Nice job, old girl - I look forward to reading more. Cheers! All the best - HowiE ;-)

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

3 of 3 people found this review constructive.

A lovely and touching story.I especially love the small details that you snuck into your work. It made it extremely easy for me to picture the setting and characters.You did really well with describing them. However, I would have to agree with Chris. It was a bit tiring reading the story without spaces between the paragraphs.That's hardly a complaint as your story was fantastic. I really enjoyed reading it.Please, do keep up the great work!

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

4 of 4 people found this review constructive.

You show great talent ,there are parts in which the descriptions them selves feel a little raw ,yet the first few lines where brilliant and the story is capturing and does pull you in .I think that you will get far with your writing �..yep�..

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

3 of 3 people found this review constructive.

My one and only small complaint about this story is that you need to put a space or two in between each paragraph. Reading long pieces of text off of the internet is extremely tiring and breaking up the paragraphs with spaces creates the illusion that it's shorter than it really is.

Despite this, I actually turned the TV off during one of my favorite shows (South Park) to read this story all the way through, illustrating just how much this story grabbed me. You descriptions just jump off the page (to use a rather cliche phrase) and your story was tender without being sappy and sentimental. I couldn't exactly figure out the time and area of this (Medieval, Renaissance, Enlightenment, or what), but I was picturing it in a medieval era and that was just attracting me even more to it. Definitely one of my favorites.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

3 of 3 people found this review constructive.

Hey Kim, Great story you've weaved here once again! You're a true Master of Fantasy Fiction!!! :)

Below you'll find some edits I came up with to enhance your story. I hope they won't be overwhelming and that you'll take my suggestions as my opinion and not absolute fact. I seem to be pissing off a lot of people here on Writers Cafe with my edits. I've been receiving some extremely hateful emails from people who are pissed when they come across one of my reviews, even though they're for someone else. I hesitate now to share my opinions with others, but when I come across a story that is such a gem to read but just needs a little help I feel like I should offer my help.

I can only imagine the hate mail I'm going to get when people read your story and then see this review... I almost closed my account yesterday and left Writers Cafe for good after one email in particular that was sent to me. I really don't understand all the hatred... I deal with enough hatred in my everyday life that I don't enjoy getting on WC to have some more thrown at me.

Ok, I'm babbling now... I guess I'm just worried I'll be upsetting you with this review even though you've given me the impression you like a thorough review after the one I left for you on your outstanding story titled The Red String. Or your friends will read my review and blast me for being mean, spiteful, asinine, rude, hateful, amongst some other adjectives. Oh well... I guess we can only be true to ourselves and let the chips fall where they may...

If I've offended you in anyway with the following review, please accept my heartfelt apologies as that was never my intention.

bathed in sweat and sinking sun.

Myself, I'd add "the" between: and sinking.

He was an older man in his late thirties

LOL You brat!!! :) If older is 'late thirties" well then... damn I'm ancient! lol

He thought it was likely it would turn into a bruise the next morning.

Hon, instead of using the second "it" how about trying something like different to break up the repetitiveness:

He thought it was likely the spot would turn into a bruise the next morning.

�Don�t act like an old man,� Hiram growled, �Have some dignity.�

LOL I love it! Nice dialog! :)

Growing up on the edge of a peaceful era, he was not trained properly in the art of fighting.

Just a suggestion here... instead of using the word "fighting" how about trying "war" instead. Many variables to war besides fighting. Hiram is teaching Perry the art of defense as well as offense. Just an idea. Using the word: fighting, you lock yourself into one aspect only, and it appears there's more layers to Hiram than just offensive fighting skills that he'll be mentoring on to his young student, Perry.

Where his body failed, however, his spirit made up for it.

Just an idea here... Instead of using the word however and ending the sentence with it, how about trying something like:

Where his body failed him, his spirit made up for the lack of balance.

Or something along those lines.

�but you grandmother paid me to give you lessons

Just a typo here... your instead of you :)

They looked up at the sky and saw that the clouds were low in the sky, murky and clumpy like bad oatmeal.

Hon, in the sentence preceding this one and the sentence following you use the word "sky" four times. In this sentence alone you use it twice. You want to break that up a bit. In this sentence the first use of the word "sky" can be removed since we know they're looking up at the sky because you tell us they're looking at clouds, so it becomes obvious. Therefore you're not losing anything by removing the first reference to "sky." You could even drop the second reference to "sky" which would be best, because your next sentence will be using the same word again. This way you can break up the repetitiveness and not lose any meaning. :)

So try something like:

They looked up and saw that the clouds were low; murky and clumpy like bad oatmeal.

The boy was still staring up at the sky,

Here you could drop the word sky again as you just used it in the preceding sentence and it's about to come up again, and you won't lose any meaning... :)

He looks like her� He thought, and another flash broke across the sky.

Ok hon, here you'll want to uncap the "He" of He thought. Then remove start a new sentence, but remove "and." Like this:

"He looks like her...," Hiram thought to himself. Another flash broke across the sky.

Perry lowered his head, still spinning with the awe of the powerful storm.

with the awe of the powerful storm

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 13 Years Ago

5 of 5 people found this review constructive.

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12 Reviews
Added on June 14, 2008
Last Updated on January 15, 2009
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Tampa, FL

I'm 21, and I am a senior English Major at FSC. I don't usually write poetry - my passion is prose, specifcially things like fantasy, adventure, romance and mystery. However, I like to try out all dif.. more..

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