Infection

this is an intro to the book i'm currently writing

The sky above the city was the colour of skin,

drained of blood. 

Bent street lights and buckled railings wept molten metal into scorched and fractured concrete, creating a mosaic of silver trees in darkest night. 

Ash fell like snow and formed drifts in the gutter.

And the bodies, So many bodies

Charred, Rotten and Infected. 

Piled in doorways, caught on broken glass crawling through windows, or just face down on the road encircled by their own blood. 

The smell, oh that smell of decaying jaundice yellowed flesh is enough to turn the strongest of stomachs. You could literally smell that stench drifting mournfully in the breeze for miles.

Thick black smoke bellowed out from still burning abandoned shops, yellowy orange flames lapped the charcoal window frames, whilst shadowy figures danced against the orange red lit background 

Shufflers moved with an awkward gait looking for their next meal.

Cars lay upturned in the desolate parking lots some ablaze, the occupants locked inside a fiery grave. 

Bloody burnt hands bang frantically against their window, skin peeled painfully from their hands as they pulled away from the hot glass like opening a piece of ketchup filled cheese on toast. The agonizing pain filtered from their screwed up faces and showed in their eyes as tears slipped from their corners, only to evaporate seconds later under the intense heat. That wasn’t the worst of it, the haunting screams ripped me to me core, it was like a chorus of banshees screaming all at once, those screams will haunt me forever.

Bright red eyes shone back against blackest night, and mattered furry bodies scurried from the sanctity of the storm drains looking for scraps, down the street two were playing tug of war with a recently deceased intestines, it was comical to watch.       

Gas mains ruptured and blew out the glass on nearby shop windows sending razor shards in all directions. People fleeing for their lives were caught in the cross fire and frantically place their hands in front of their face to block the incoming projectiles. Their flesh offered little or no protection, the razor shards cut their skin like a hot knife through butter, one person lie on the floor, he looked as though he had been tortured his skin covered in tiny like paper cuts, death by a thousand cuts sprang to mind.

People walk the streets aimlessly, confused to their surroundings, some drag their skin behind them, it hung like a second coat dragging across the tarmac road, they didn’t scream. The shock must have ambushed their bodies, they were unaware of their surroundings and the impending doom closing in on them, shufflers snapped wildly with manky yellowed teeth and tore their flesh from bone which glistened under the pale moon light. Blood gushed from their wounds and trickled down the street like hot black tar and snaked between the cobbles, like a river navigating the rocks making  its way to the red sea.

Then there is me, what am i? I am no longer human that’s for sure, yet neither am I dead. I still have a pulse and my heart still beats in my chest yet my body is no longer warm. It’s freezing cold and my skin and hair are drained of all pigmentation. What the hell am I? and where has all my picturesque ink gone from my body? Its disappeared, leaving a pale barren landscape in its wake.  

Reviews

[Jeff Overton]

Hello Silt. i have read your review and have took onboard what you have suggested. This had not been edited as you say complete edit re-write. thank you so much for an in depth review.

[Silt]

Hello

I believe your descriptions overwhelm the story - this is not to say they are bad descriptions, only that they overwhelm and float about with no possession. Try not to talk to the reader, rather than using terms like 'You could smell......' let me sense how this effects the character in that story, in that setting, and at that time.

I'm going to critique your first paragraph as I would normally. Please keep in mind that critiques; no matter how strongly worded, are mere suggestions of opinions by the reviewer(guided by their own experiences) You don't have to agree/change your writing to suit. A writer's story should always be in their own words. Reviews are only showing you another way to see.

[quote]The sky above the city was the colour of skin,
drained of blood. [/quote]

Try to use your descriptions to build a scene. Don't overwhelm the reader so much that the descriptions hide the story. When this happens, flow is interrupted, focus is mis-placed.

An example:

The sky above the city was the colour of dead/Death's skin. - dead/Death's

You want to give the reader an image to set quickly, and then move your story forward.

[quote]Bent street lights and buckled railings wept molten metal into scorched and fractured concrete, creating a mosaic of silver trees in darkest night.
Ash fell like snow and formed drifts in the gutter.[/quote]

You go overboard here. The story hasn't started yet but you pause it again to describe something that could be pictured in fewer words. ie:

The city lay in ruins.

Use the readers' imaginations to get an image across, whenever possible. Their brains can fill in details far better than any words. That's why they say 'A picture says a thousand words' Again. Try not to halt the flow forward. All these descriptions and I have no one to place them from. If you want to throw in descriptions - and I like your descriptions - give them directly from the mc - attach to their 'now' in the story. I have to care about this city and it's destruction.



[quote]And the bodies, So many bodies
Charred, Rotten and Infected.
Piled in doorways, caught on broken glass crawling through windows, or just face down on the road encircled by their own blood. [/quote]

No need to capitalise 'R' in rotten or 'C' in charred. The second sentence is fragmented. Fragmented means that it begins midway with no reference to attachment. Without the full stop after the first sentence, this would solve that issue.

encircled in their own blood. - how does the mc know this? Why is there a need to show possession of that blood? This is where focus is important. What do you wish to show the readers? Is it the possession of that blood, or is it that they are outlined in blood?

Focus is very important. It is like fireworks. You want their eyes on that brilliant colour, not at the cloud passing by.

All this can be looked at when you go through editing. If the story is not complete - don't stop to edit what was written. A story should be written in one voice throughout. Finish first, edit, re-write, edit, re-write, etc.

Best writing to you

Silt