Note: I will not accept any flames, however, comments and criticisms are welcome. I am under the assumption that anyone reading this has a clear understanding of the difference between flames and criticisms so I don't have to explain it. Here are some reason why I don't accept flames: 1) they generally include an attack on the author's character without regard to previous or future works that may or may not be in the same vein, 2) not only are they childish, but they make the writer of them sound immature and not old enough to read the material contained herein, 3) flames help neither the author nor the flamer to improve the work and, therefore, are not constructive, 4) if something is so offensive as to elicit the impulse to flame then it is better forgotten and not dwelled upon, 5) you waste time writing it and I waste time reading and then deleting it, 6) it won't do you any good to point out my lack of scruples, morals, intelligence, sanity, etc., because not only don't I care, but I won't listen.
Due to one reviewer's recommendation that I rewrite the entirety of chapter one, I have rewritten chapter one, maintaining only a single scene from the original. Unfortunately the 'critique' offered no other useful or constructive comments, though a plethora of insults. Therefore, due to my strict no tolerance policy of flames, which this was, I removed it. Suffice it to say the said flame attacked both my credibility and my ability as a writer ("substandard work") based upon a single story.
My request for people to restrain their urge to flame was blatantly disregarded; the justification being that only "substandard" authors dislike flames. The reason cited for even writing a review in the first place was because I used "mature readers only" in my summary and that was "begging" for someone to write a comment. My usage of "mature readers" has nothing to do with age (i.e. no one under 17), but, instead, with the mental maturity of my readers. My serious works, of this story is one, should only be read by psychologically mature people who respect the work and its author whether they like it or not. If it's easier, translate mature readers as OPEN-MINDED readers.
Furthermore the declaration of 'how' ff.net should be used is erroneous and merely one view of its purpose. Personally, I use ff.net as a place to post rough drafts of my works in the hope that I'll receive useful comments. In turn I use reviews to refine my works, correct errors and generally improve the stories in order to reach a finished piece. This is why I make it a point to indicate whether or not grammatical, etc., errors have been corrected (I can't catch them all). My view of ff.net's purpose happens to differ and I don't feel this difference of opinion warrants a paragraph of veiled insults.
All in all, this story took two weeks to complete. One week to write a detailed outline of the story. Another week to write the piece and read it over once. I posted after that so I could receive comments before going back to make further corrections. The implication that I just typed it up and posted it without thought is wrong and unjustified. This piece was carefully thought out before it was written.
A critique should give suggestions on how to improve what is 'bad' in a story. Flames point out what is wrong without giving any suggestions as to how to improve. I had thought that I didn't need to explain the difference between critiques and flames, but there you go.
If you find any of the above comments offensive, then I sincerely apologize. My intention is to clarify my position in this writing community. To the writer of the flame/review I would like to say that I value and respect your opinion. For this reason I took your suggestion to heart and wrote another beginning chapter. I hope you read it and find it a bit more palatable than the first (still posted below). In addition, I would like it if you left an email address or IM so we can talk further. I would enjoy exchanging a dialogue and sharing some of my brewing story ideas with you (Don't be alarmed if I answer an IM with 'moo').
The story below is the faulted original. Read it only if you care to compare it with the improved beginning chapter.
Elend
"No." The shattered creature shuddered horribly with every soft footfall across the carpet. "Not here…Not here…Please?" Crazed, milky eyes swam in the shadowed sockets of a stretched, inhuman face. A crimson slash of a mouth pulled back from perfect teeth in a maniacal grin. "Let me fly! Fly…birds. Give me back my wings…Please?" Clawed hands grasped for the legs of the approaching person.
"And how is my mad little angel doing?"
"So cold. Fire! My wings…why did you take them? I can't fly…" A caramel colored hand slid into the tangled mass of carmine hair that hung lifelessly from creature's withered head. It whined lowly and tried to escape, bony arms knocking uselessly against other's chest. The man chuckled and released his hold upon the creature, once the most angelic and beautiful of all womankind. He couldn't even remember her name, or what she had looked like when he first gazed upon her.
"You weren't strong enough, pure enough, love." It sobbed, curling into itself to escape his derisive voice. Its seemingly endless fount of purity had finally dried up, leaving the former woman an emaciated husk with only shreds of intelligence left to form incoherent riddles. Nothing more to corrupt, no more reason to stay.
"My wings…Not here…"
"Sorry, love. You'll never get them back." He stood up and strode away. The creature cried out and struggled after him, pulling its bony body across the plush carpet.
"No! Let me fly! Please…please!" The man vanished in a well of darkness and an iron door slammed closed. In its heart the creature knew that the man would never return, just as it would never die. It screamed, and gouged out long furrows of bloodless flesh from its breast with twisted, yellowed nails.
"Don't leave me alone!"
* * *
Every two hundred years another pure soul is born, he mused as he leaned back against a wrought iron fence. His vibrant green eyes traveled over the dilapidated castle and lingered thoughtfully upon one darkened window. No one would find it, at least not for many decades to come when the fear of nighttime secrets had faded. A scornful glance scorched the silent village nestled in the womb of a peaceful valley.
The ages burned into his bloodless flesh and left him without scars or marks, but he could feel the changes. He would have to find a new Fount, a new source of purity to defile. He closed his eyes and rolled his mind through the mists of the world. The soulless hunger filled his body and road along, sniffing the ethereal paths of innocence like a bloodhound. Nothing. He would have to wait. Soon another would be born. Another upon which to slack his thirst and perhaps satiate the hunger.
* * *
"My wings…gone…gone…" The creature crawled back and forth across the floor, covered in bits of moldering carpet. It traveled a curved path carved into the stone floor from decades of unending creeping. "Alone…Cold. Fire, please!"
It paused, sightless eyes tilted towards darkened ceiling. Something within it's torn breast stirred. Another, he had found another. The creature whimpered and shuddered and resumed crawling.
"Another. Another bird trapped…Don't take her wings. Fly! Fly! Wings…My wings…Not here…"
* * *
"Stupid Ranma," the petite girl muttered for the thousandth time that day. The swing creaked as she swung back and forth, a dark scowl upon her face. "Stupid Shampoo." Why did she always have to hug him and why didn't he resist harder? A fiancée would think that he actually enjoyed those amorous attacks.
Her hands tightened upon the chains supporting the swing's seat. She wasn't a fiancée by choice. He wasn't a fiancé by choice. But still…He didn't have to…
"Stupid Akane…" Tendo Akane sighed dejectedly. She shouldn't care so much, but she couldn't help it. A sliver of glass ripped into her heart every time she caught him in the arms of one of his other fiancées or miscellaneous admirers. And those insults he always threw her way…Did he really think her un-cute? Un-sexy?
"Deep thoughts, little one?" She started as a warm voice flowed across her body. She twisted her head to find a stranger lounging in the swing to her right. Green eyes regarded her with a knowledge that bellied the youthfulness of the boy's face. Annoyance flittered across her face, banishing the frustrated frown, as she realized that she had let him sneak up on her.
"'Little one'? You don't look more than a year older than me," she replied huffily. Surreptitiously she wiped away the betraying dampness from the corners of her eyes.
"My apologies, miss," he chuckled. "Upon what do you think, if I may be so bold as to ask?" She gave him an odd look as she digested his uncommon speech affectation. He looked like a foreigner and a slight accent confirmed the fact.
"I'm just feeling a little down today. Not that it's any of your concern."
"Perhaps it isn't, perhaps it is. We shall simply have to see." The boy turned to stare at the swiftly darkening sky. His caramel colored skin glowed oddly in the failing light.
"What are you talking about?" He slanted an enigmatic glance in her direction and before turning to smile serenely at the setting sun.
"You should head for home. Dark things stalk the nights." The girl shook her head and laughed derisively.
"I don't believe in monsters, thank you very much."
"Very few people do, sadly."
"Whatever."
"Well, even if you do not need to leave, I must. Goodnight, miss." He inclined his head in a brief bow and slipped off the swing. He walked away with the casual air of one who has already taken the world on and won, several times.
Akane sat there blinking, and suddenly realized she had completely forgotten the reason for her sulk. She rubbed her neck, pressing against the tensed muscles with the pad of her thumb, and wondered who that boy had been.
* * *
The teacher scanned the desks of eager students and wished they would be as excited about his lesson plan as the seemed to be about the prospect of a new student. Heaving a resigned sigh the teacher dutifully announced the name of the student and wrote his name upon the board. Of course he had a small difficulty with both tasks for the student's name was foreign and had one of those pesky 'l' sounds. He struggled with both until the student finally took it upon himself to make the introduction in flawless Japanese.
Akane stared in blatant shock at the boy. She had met him the other day. Elend…Odd boy, she thought with a shake of her head.
The teacher pointed to an empty seat at the other end of the room and the caramel-skinned boy gracefully walked over to it. Everyone watched him with fascination, yet he paid no one any attention. When he sat down he directed his gaze at the teacher with patient attentiveness. When it proved that he would be doing nothing interesting, the rest of the students reluctantly returned their attention to the teacher. Akane continued staring.
He was in her class. He was now her classmate. A sudden, irrational sense of dread slithered down her spine. She didn't trust him, didn't like him. His very presence made her skin crawl.
"Miss Tendo?"
"Y-Yes?" She whirled around to face the teacher. Soft giggles filled the room from the girls, while several boys sent death glares at the oblivious new boy.
"Please pay attention."
"Yes, sir."
* * *
"I saw you looking at the new boy. Do you like him?" Akane cut a miffed glance at her companion and sniffed haughtily.
"Of course not, what give you that idea, Ranma?"
"Just the fact that you couldn't take your eyes off of him." He jumped down from the fence, his usual walking path, to stroll beside her. There was something in his voice that irritated and delighted her. He sounded…jealous? No, that would be too much to hope for. After all he had those 'cute' fiancées eagerly awaiting him. Stupid Ranma.
"So what. He's new. Everybody was staring at him."
"Not like you were." The girl shrugged carelessly and danced a few steps ahead of the boy. She turned to face him, hands on hips and a smile on her face.
"Are you jealous?" Saotome Ranma flushed scarlet then blanched.
"N-no. Who'd be jealous over some uncute tomboy?" The only warning, though experience should have been warning enough, the boy had was the narrowing of her brown eyes before he found himself airborne.
"Jerk," the girl muttered lowering her fist. She stared at her dusty shoes and then at her clenched hand. His words twisted the shard deeper. If he felt that way, then he should leave, and take his crazy admirers with him. What, besides his father, held him back? Her life had been fine, somewhat normal, before his arrival.
"Still brooding?" She whirled around to confront the speaker only to find the strange boy, Elend, standing there with a look of curiosity on his face.
"What do you want?" she huffed.
"You can't even begin to imagine what I want, but that's neither here not there. Or rather there, for it most certainly is here."
"What are you talking about?" He crossed the short distance between them until he stood only a foot away and well within her personal space.
"My, but you do have a lot of questions." He smiled slightly, flashing perfect teeth, and caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Akane's sorrel eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Don't touch me." Her fist flew up to emphasize the command. Only he dodged it, or rather let it pass by him so that he could trap her arm against his body. Cold, his fingers, his whole body leeched the warmth from her skin. She shivered as she felt the chill try to crawl into her own flesh.
"You have a fighter's spirit to support the Fount." His brilliant green eyes scanned her face with religious reverence. "No other has ever had wings like you do, love."
"Love? I'm not your love!" The girl struggled against his cold embrace, using her free hand to push him away.
"They all were. I loved them, in a way." A bemused smile curved his lips and an ancient darkness shimmered behind his eyes.
"What the hell are you talking about? Let me go!"
"For now," he said mildly. Abruptly he released his hold on her. The girl cried out and staggered backwards, clutching the arm he had imprisoned as if it had been injured.
"You need not remember this, little angel. But do be careful of the night." He walked away.
Akane cradled her arm and wondered why. A quick glance around proved that Ranma had disappeared as was his wont. A baffled frown wrinkled her inky brows as she found no reason for the frenetic racing of her heart. What had happened? One minute she was sending Ranma into the stratosphere, the next found her shaking as if she had just been brushed by death. Perhaps she had had some sort of premonition…?
* * *
Cold…She needed heat, warmth, fire. A violent shivering consumed her slight body and goose bumps rose across her exposed flesh. She opened dazed sorrel eyes to find a pale marble face smiling down at her with religious serenity and her nude body draped across the idol's arms. Something thick and crimson began to well up from the statues glazed eyes. The girl watched in mute horror as the liquid dripped down the flawless cheeks like bloody tears. With dawning terror she realized that those were bloody tears. The statue was crying blood.
She cried out and struggled to escape the obscene idol's arms, yet she couldn't find the strength to move body. Panting and whimpering, she managed to roll over onto her side and away from the morbid visage of the crying statue…only to confront a more terrifying sight.
A seething mass of creatures crawled back and forth below her, but what truly brought the bile to her throat was the inescapable fact that they had once been human. Flesh, like dirty parchment, stretched tightly across their bones, pushing tendons into sharp relief. Ragged lacerations covered their bodies and, as she watched, several began to rip at their own flesh.
A gentle murmuring drifted up to her unwilling ears. They were weeping, yet no tears coursed down their sunken cheeks. The statue…the statue cried their tears…in blood.
"My wings…My wings…Gone…Not here…" As one the creatures turned their sightless white eyes upon the quivering girl and crawled towards her. They reached clawed hands out to her in piteous supplication, shriveled tongues lolling about their cavernous mouths. She screamed when one of them brushed against her leg.
"D-don't touch me!"
"You…Your wings shine…Give us…Please? Please!" Several grabbed a hold of her, brittle nails digging into her unprotected flesh.
"No!"
"He'll take them…Can't fly…"
"I said no!"
* * *
Akane jerked awake to find herself covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She scrubbed her arms and legs frantically. She could still feel those creatures' hands upon her.
A dream, only a dream.
* * *
And there it is. A strange Ranma story brought to you by Sarryn the Psychotic. Please review, if you feel so inclined. However, I will not accept any flames on the basis that they do not help the creative writing process. On the other hand, a well thought out critique would be helpful. Yes, there is a difference. I hope we're all mature enough to realize this.
This story is unedited. Corrections (grammatical, etc.) will be made on a later date. Thank you for your patience. Now please REVIEW!