----- Original Message -----
From: Alan Harnum <harnums@thekeep.org>
To: <ffml@fanfic.com>
Sent: Thursday, February 24, 2000 12:37 AM
Subject: [FFML] [El-Hazard][Fanfic] Mortal Engines - Chapter Eleven
Everyone had to be okay, of course. The plan couldn't have
failed that badly. Could it? Things weren't supposed to work
this way. Terrible thoughts ran through his head as he struggled
his way to the surface, avoiding currents that threatened to snag
and drag him down into the immeasurable depths below.
While I think the internal rhyme is cute, I think it interrupts the flow
of the sentence.
Not a moment too soon, his head broke the waters, and he
gulped grateful gasps of air while frantically scanning the flat
canvas of the ocean. Nothing except the distant form of the
ship.
"Shayla? Afura? Fujisawa-sensei? Miz?"
His voice echoed back to him, over and over again. He
waited, called out again--nothing. They're all dead, he thought;
Katsuhiko hates me so much, he had it kill them all, but leave me
alive, because he knew that would hurt me more than my own death.
Eyes already irritated by exposure to salt water began to itch
with imminent tears. Afloat on the ocean, convinced his friends
were gone, Makoto considered his options. He could swim back to
the cutter--Alielle would be waiting, Alielle had to be waiting--
or he could swim to the island; nearly equal distance to either
one. The island had a pleasant beach overhung by cliffs of dark
basalt that threw their shadow lazily across the sand; his eyes
found green forests and traced the dip and rise of mountain peaks
barely visible that called out come to us,
Moving, but I'd put qoutation marks around "come to us." It doesn't
quite stand out as it should.
and then something
wrapped itself around his water-kicking ankles tight as a noose.
Also, considering my previous statement., make this a who new
sentence.
Panic set in; he thrashed and cried out. Cold, slippery
tentacles of water caught his wrists; another intertwined thick
and violating about his thighs and groin; a final one looped
about his neck and filled his nostrils with a dead-fish-sea-salt
smell. Helplessly struggling, he could do nothing to resist
being lifted out of the water and high into the air.
Get rid of "Helplessly;" it's redundant.
Ahead of him, a narrow ripple ran the length of the ocean as
far as he could see. Shayla and Afura and Miz and Fujisawa-
sensei emerged from the ocean, pale and waterlogged, held in
bonds identical to his. The tentacles slowly shifted and
wavered, hung with his friends like baited hooks.
Despite his state, exuberance filled him. He momentarily
forgot his predicament, and called out their names, one by one.
No answers; so pale they were.
Yodaesque, and I think awkward, as well.
How long had they been under?
How much time had he floated alone, drawing easy breaths, while
they lay drowning beneath the waves?
Shayla coughed. The thin, weak sound reached out across the
still waters and reached Makoto's ears like a note of joy.
Shayla lived, and that meant the others probably did, they had to
have lived.
Run-on
Flat voice: "They live." And Lethiaphan rose into the space
between Makoto and his friends.
Uh... well, for one thing, get rid of that "and." For another, can you
explain the reasoning behind the scriptish "Flat voice:" ?
They had damaged it; the bladed
arm was held protectively over the pale green flesh of the chest,
as though to hold in the thin and very dark plumes of smoke that
spiralled up from beneath the cover of the arm.
This close, Lethiaphan's bonded presence felt almost like a
second mind within his, cold and steely like a blade, filled with
memories of old killing and an obedience reaching beyond
fanaticism into something purer, deadly and simple and
relentless.
On the flip side, I think this use of "and, and, and" to be very
nice. It helps the paragraph.
How could human hands have designed something so
alien?
As though in answer, Lethiaphan spoke:
"Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secrecy the human dress.
The human dress is forged iron,
The human form a fiery forge,
The human face a furnace seal'd,
The human heart its hungry gorge."
A fanfic writer and poet. I'm impressed.
Finished its monotone recitation, Lethiaphan bowed, one arm
Agreement is off. "Finishing... Lethiaphan bowed" "Having Finished...."
or something along those lines.
still pressed against its dark-smoking chest. Makoto struggled
to reconcile this inconsistency with his previous experience of
Lethiaphan, failed to achieve that, and simply gave up.
"What... how..."
Water-tentacles swayed in unison, as though in the act of
hypnosis. He thought he saw Miz raise her head a little, but it
might just have been a motion caused by the movements of her
bonds.
"I," Lethiaphan said, "require that you bleed for me." The
trident flew towards him, spinning like a drill, tines
glittering cruelly. Makoto screamed and closed his eyes; when
there was no pain after a few seconds, he opened them again, to
see the trident hanging in the air before him. Like a twirled
baton, it slowly rotated upon the central point of its shaft; in
the depths of the opalesque green sphere below the head, black
and crackling sylphs of electricity danced seductively.
Abruptly, the cold manacles upon his wrists fell away, and
his hands were free. They flopped limply, full of the pins and
needles of pinched nerves; as the feeling slowly came back to
them, he chafed one wrist and then the other in an attempt to
recover sensation quicker.
"Prick your finger, Makoto Mizuhara," Lethiaphan ordered.
"Upon the tines. Bleed for me."
Cryogenic coldness of Lethiaphan's xenolithic presence in
Nice use of consonance! I like the rythm it provides.
his mind bringing back childhood night-terrors, the creak of a
closet door opening due to a faulty latch sending him scurrying
under the covers, unable to stare through the darkness of his
room at the gaping maw within the wall that wanted to swallow
him down... his hand came up as though in rebellion against his
After ellipses, the first word should be capitalized. In this case,
it would be "His."
own will, stretched out, and the black dancers in the shining orb
flared somehow hungrily for blood warmth light for an opening of
the veins for an opening--
"They're rusty."
His hand stopped.
"I might get tetanus." Play for time...
"Bleed."
"Don't you have something cleaner?" A wheedling note in his
voice would do it, yes, all those days in the Shakespeare Society
of Shinanome were paying off, he'd seen Jinnai do Caliban two
years ago, he knew how to whine...
Run-on.
"Bleed."
The tentacle holding Shayla lifted high, higher than the
others, and seemed to stiffen; the threat was implicit in the
singling-out: bleed for me or watch her die. The thespis mask
slipped, and could not be recovered; had he done it?
"Okay, I'll do it."
Voluntarily this time, he raised his hand. And snapped his
fingers.
Sentence fragment.
A cannon-shell, glowing red-hot, smashed into
Lethiaphan and exploded thunderously, engulfing it in a cloud of
smoke and roaring flame.
Alielle's voice sang out from across the waters. "You
forget about me..."
Backup plans were always good, Makoto thought. As the
water-tentacles began to loosen and dissolve, the obscuring smoke
vanished. Suddenly exhausted, Makoto splashed down into the
water as his bonds released; before he did, though, he saw that
nothing was left of Lethiaphan but a smoking patch of ink-dark
fluid upon the surface of the sea, and he felt the merciful
retreat of its haunting presence from his mind.
Check this, seems way too drawn out.
* * *
For nearly three seconds, Ifurita stared at the head
growing out of the boy's back which had just greeted her by name.
Then she said, calmly, "Hello, Osilis."
Comma splice, "Then she said calmly," is fine.
The head of Osilis smiled; dark eyes twinkled in the
perpetually-bronzed face, beneath bushy eyebrows. "How long
since we last met, Ifurita?"
"At the siege of Zalambar," she replied. "You escaped
before I could destroy you."
"As you did poor Mardruk." Osilis's voice was full of mock
sadness.
"Yes." She could not allow herself to dwell upon things she
had done in the past, while a hierodule; to do that would be to
"To do so" might sound better.
risk the loss of this new and fragile self, the Ifurita with an
existence beyond killing. But neither could she deny what she
had been in the past; to do so was to risk becoming it again.
Haha, like you did right here. Using it in the first place might set
a nice rythm.
"You seem different, Ifurita."
"I am."
Nasalasalanasala and
Nasablablahblah, whatyhoo?
the boy's attendants moved back from
them, rejoining the circle of their tribe; the blue-skinned men,
Oh, Tizarin. (Let's see someone get this joke.)
women and children watched the conversation with fascination.
"Then I need not fear my destruction?"
Ifurita stared at the head flatly. "You do not seem to at
this moment. And you are, after all, only a head; hardly in a
position to be any kind of threat to me."
LOL That's hilarious.
"Alas, yes," Osilis sighed. "My body was damaged. The only
way to preserve myself was this." His eyes turned scornfully
upon the mindless expression of his host, narrowed; the boy's
hand lifted tremblingly, then dropped slackly back to dangle at
his side. "The processes of the nervous system are extremely
complex, as you can see; I am quite helpless to do anything
physical."
"How many bodies have you used up?" Ifurita asked softly.
Osilis pursed his lips. "It is a great strain upon them,"
he admitted. "Perhaps fifty, over these last ten years." As
though to lend credence to his words, the boy suddenly coughed
savagely, involuntary motions rocking Osilis back and forth, to
his extreme displeasure.
Nice imagery. I can really see this scene.
"Na."
Fade...
Although I cut it out, the "Na" scene totally kicked ass.
Almost did take them, success of the backup plan or not,
some part of him murmured... almost took them, and what happened
to Lethiaphan, why did it want me to bleed for it, why did I have
to _choose_ to bleed for it?
I see the need for the total disparity of that paragraph, but I don't
have to like it. :P
"Ma...koto."
Consider "Ma...ko...to" ?
Shayla's voice, weak and water-logged, dragged him away from
his dark thoughts. He hurried over to her side, trailed by
Alielle; nearby, Fujisawa-sensei had already began to sit up.
"Shayla, how do you feel?"
"Like a drowned rat." Shayla grimaced, and sat up with some
effort. "What happened? Last thing I remember is getting
dragged under."
"The backup plan worked," said Makoto, shakily grinning.
"Alielle blew Lethiaphan to pieces."
Fujisawa looked up from where he knelt at Miz's side. "And
you're sure it's destroyed?"
Makoto nodded. "I can't feel its presence any more."
Fujisawa stroked his stubbled chin, and peered at the deck
in seeming thought. With a sigh, Shayla ran her hands through
her damp hair, and looked at Alielle.
Comma splice.
"Alielle..." she began, almost apologetically.
Uuuuuuuh, hmmmm, might be a comma splice. *scratches chin*
"Yes?" Alielle still sounded distant when she talked to
Shayla; the fight, the harsh words of the morning, had obviously
not been forgotten.
Screw the commas and use an "and."
"Good job," Shayla said, forcing down seeming reluctance.
"Thanks, kiddo."
Kiddo should be capitalized, seeing how it is used as a name.
"Sister Shayla..." Alielle clasped her hands tightly
together. "I... I..."
"Hey--"
"Oh, Shayla!"
"Aughh! GET--okay, look, _just_ this once, because you
saved my life and everybody else's, and HEY! there are limits, I
didn't mean you could put your hands there--"
Makoto turned away, leaving Shayla and Alielle to their own
particular brand of reconciliation. "How's Miz, sensei?"
Sensei should be capitalized, seeing how it is being used as a name.
"She'll be fine," Fujisawa murmured, as he almost reverently
touched Miz's brow. "She's the least likely person to be harmed
by a little water. Afura?"
"Breathing," Makoto said. "Not much more than that, right
now. She wasn't in any condition to fight again, but we didn't
have much of a choice..."
"Listen, Makoto." The teacher's voice dropped to a low
whisper. "Are you sure Lethiaphan's gone?"
"I saw the shell hit," Makoto softly declared. "Dead on.
And it's gone from my mind; I can't feel any sort of link at all,
any more."
I think that comma is not needed, though I may be wrong.
Fujisawa frowned. "But what if Lethiaphan had some way to
hide from you? I was awake while it was talking to you, Makoto;
I didn't move because I didn't want to risk it hurting Miz, or
anyone else. Why did it act like that? I doubt it did all that
at Jinnai's orders."
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Makoto replied; it
came out harsher than he meant it, almost snapped.
"Makoto replied more harshly than he had meant to, almost
snapping." I think would work.
Fujisawa held up his hands defensively. "I'm just saying
better safe than sorry. Can't you... search, or something?
Exert yourself?"
"Fine." Trying and failing to keep a calm veil over his
Trying a failing doesn't sound right, and I can't find a way to fix it.
inexplicable agitation, Makoto walked to the edge of the boat and
stared at out the featureless spot of see
sea
that he thought was
where Lethiaphan had gone down. He closed his eyes; focused
Comma, not semincolon. No new sentence has been formed.
down, imagined his consciousness receding into a concentration
the size of a pinpoint, transmuting, and then _opening_ in an
outward radarbeam sweep encompassing all creation--
His eyes snapped open. "What!"
"Makoto?" Fujisawa crossed the deck to him in two long
strides. "What is it?"
"Mardruk."
Blink. "Who's Mardruk?"
Makoto pointed to the vapour trail just becoming visible in
the western sky. "He is."
Fujisawa scratched his head. "I think you've got some
explaining to do, kid."
Capitalization </broken record>
Makoto was only halfthrough
halfway
through his explanation to
Fujisawa and the others--those conscious, at least, which by that
point was everyone but Afura--at the point where he had awakened
Mardruk in the catacombs below the Royal Library, when the reason
for his explanation arrived in a stream of vapour and a booming
of jets.
Your love of dashes gets worse. Awkward, I say, awkward. :P
The Demon-God stopped on a dime above the boat, and
Try to avoid cliches like the plague. :P
dropped down to land upon the deck, stumbling on his twisted leg
as he did. The mangled shoulder-stump appeared to have
have been
cauterized; at the very least, it no longer leaked the red fluid
it had before.
Everyone stared warily at the new arrival, as Makoto stepped
Comma splice.
forward. "Why are you here? You..."
"In my dreams, I heard you cry out in fear," the Demon-God
replied. His voice was soft, hard to understand because of
static; in the full sunlight, the four red eyes within the depths
of the white visor covering eyes and nose were nearly invisible.
"By the tremblings of the cord that binds our souls, I felt
Lethiaphan, but he was... changed."
"Changed? What..."
"Look at my memories and see," Mardruk said, grievingly.
"He was my... what I would call my brother."
And the memories came in a flash.
An understandable fragment, but a fragment, none-the-less.
A beautiful youth with
sea-green locks (it had the face of a man), a whirling blade in
the place of one hand, a trident in the other, skin of pale jade,
leaping diving laughing
Leaping, diving, and laughing. If you're portraying the jumbles
of memories, ignore me. I have used this method as well.
through the ocean (the face of a man)
except when ordered he must kill he cannot disobey he is
hierodule, and overhead I fly (in the distance I can sense the
presence of my other brothers)
(the face of a man)
(these images cannot be reconciled. This is not my/your
brother)
(then what is he/it?)
Dark guillotine fell, severing the connection.
Fragment.
All around him, the others, Miz Shayla Fujisawa Alielle,
clamouring voices, question after question which he cannot
willnot answer,
Unlike the option of cannot, will not cannot be written willnot.
and, "SHUT UP! Shut up! Let me think! Leave me
alone!"
They shrink back; they have never heard him yell like that
before.
Why the tense changes?
His fists clenched at his sides, he whirls from one to
the other, shouting: "I don't know! I don't have all the
answers! I can't say! I don't--"
A gentle inhuman hand fell upon his shoulder.
"Makoto." And he heard Ifurita's voice amid the tones,
"And" is not needed.
Ifurita Mardruk's destroyer whom he has come to love in the hope
destroyer, whom
that Makoto will find it pleasing. "Be calm."
Ifurita. It all broke from him in a rush, in a towering
wave of suppressed grief. He'd pushed it all down in the face of
these new things, the pursuit of Jinnai, the mystery of
Lethiaphan, but now it hammered at him with all the stored
strength repression imparts.
I am going so that I can meet you.
And she went, into the darkness.
Wailing, sobbing like a child, Makoto shoved someone (he
didn't know who) out of the way and scrambled across the deck to
where the Power-Key Staff lay. He grabbed it up and clung to it
like a spar on the ocean, hugged it to his chest until its sprues
and projections dug painfully into his flesh.
Ifurita might meet his past self, but there was no
guarantee, none at all, that _he_ would meet her again. What if
what Gallus had done to the Eye of God had permanently damaged
it? What if the secret of dimensional travel did not lie hidden
within some ancient text? What if he never saw her again? How
could he endure that? How could he live? His soul was cleaved
to hers deeper than flesh to bone. Without her there was no
life.
It's getting harder to read. Certainly it's more emotional, but I'm
getting lost easily.
He didn't have any conscious perception of events outside
his grief; didn't know who reached him first, to touch him, or
how hard he slapped their hand back. Nothing mattered.
Agreement. One hand, one person, no their. Try his or her.
They stood around him in a circle, without questions; an
almost palpable love radiated from them, uncompromising, and it
was that which eventually allowed him to look up through red eyes
at all of them.
"I'm sorry, everyone," he murmured, cheeks reddening with
shame and humiliation. "I'm sorry, it's just... it won't happen
Capitalization. Play it again, Sam.
again, I won't break down ever again." Control; control.
Breathe deep.
None of them, to his surprise, looked especially shocked by
his outburst. Fujisawa knelt and touched his shoulder; this
time, Makoto allowed the contact.
"I was waiting for something like this," the teacher said
sagely. "I was worried about you, kid; you've been pushing it
Kid should be capitalized.
all down inside, ever since Ifurita left.
Comma splice.
Good to see you let it
out."
Shayla smiled down at him ruefully, almost sadly. "Feels
kind of good, doesn't it? Good to have some company in the
hysterical breakdown department."
"A good cry is very healthy," Miz observed.
Makoto looked from face to smiling face; Afura had gotten
up sometime during his time of separation, and even she looked
down at him beneficiently. Mardruk sent love across the cord
that bound their souls, love love love.
Suddenly, cleansingly, Makoto began to laugh. He let
Fujisawa help him to his feet; the others crowded around, giving
him small embraces, brief touches, gentle words. He felt safe
and protected. Loved.
And, then, to cut into and destroy the safety of the moment,
....I'll allow that "and."
a voice made up of static feedback, broken mechanisms: "How
touching; how very, very touching."
They turned as one, to see a shape standing upon the waves:
vaguely like a man, but covered in bottom muck, tangled seaweed,
the bloody skins of fish; not all was covered, though, and in
patches could be seen torn artificial flesh and microscopically
complex mechanism covered in what looked like thick black oil--an
Oh, yeah, that Tar Dude that killed Tasha Yar is making an appearance.
oil that bled black smoke wherever the sunlight touched it. Atop
it all, the gleaming faceless head; all the hair had burned away
in the explosion that had nearly destroyed the body. Would have,
except for whatever it was that rode Lethiaphan and drove it
darkly onwards.
"But I must still require that you bleed for me."
Mardruk stepped into the air as easily as a man ascends a
flight of steps, and walked off the boat. "Head for shore," he
said quietly. "I shall deal with what is left of my brother."
Summary: I liked it. You told a well developed story. I liked the
characters. It was emotionally powerful, if a bit grammatically
inept. :P While I have only paid attention to two or three of
the Mortal Engines chapters, I will continue in a more standard
capacity now. Good job, may there be more where this comes
from, and good luck on fixing what I commented on.
Kevin Callahan