Hey yall,

Just wanted to put up some of my other writings for you guys to read.

These are from multiple works and ideas ive had over time.

Please comment and criticize as you feel.

I will not get offended and am really trying to improve.

The First is an opening to a series i am planning on writing one day.

Ascension:

I wake to the pop and crackle of flames. The heat grows on my skin. I open my eyes and the world begins to spin. My first sight is a sky of endless black. I turn more and i see a camp fire underneath me. The pain comes next. The steel rod screwed into my spine aches everytime i hang towards the fire. The flames lick lightly at my flesh. My body roasts like a pig on a spit. I scream and nothing answers back but the hiss beneath me. I turn from the starless night and notice coals writhing in the flames. More screams fill my ears. They are not stones but serpents made of stone. Living from the magma pulsing along their scales they coil and strike at random. The first hits me in the cheek, its crystal fangs tearing a chunk from my flesh. Next my thigh and wrist. Their bites burn upon contact as the spit drops another inch closer to the flames. The venom of the serpents cause my blood to boil and my body to swell at an alarming rate. As the torture continues i burn inside and out. The only thing i can hear is the flames and my own dwindling screams. All i can taste is the metal flavor of blood in my mouth.

I scream until i my throat dries from the heat. All i want is an end.

Guess thats the worst thing about hell. There is no reprieve. You cannot pass out. You can not sleep. All that greets you at the end of one torment is just a new flavor of pain. Its a buffet of all you can take agony. And they never run out of new dishes for you to try. They attack mind body and spirit. Not a single particle of your being goes untouched. In the end i was burned, beaten, eaten, and more. And out of the pieces of a shattered soul they crafted a new me.

f***ed up that i chose this place?

But its a choice i would make again and again. For the road paved with good intentions can go both ways.

Heaven is a one way ticket.

This is the story of a Demon gone good. Of a man chosen for paradise who chooses punishment. It will start on earth and goes to hell and back again. It tests the limits of a stubborn attitude and free will. Above all it shows the power of a mortal and the meaning of sacrifice.

This is my ascension.

This one is an intro or back cover to the Novel I am currently working on. As of now the novel has no title.

But if i had to give this next passage one it would be this

The Safest Prison of All:

When you look into the eyes of a man, one should see more than pupil and iris, than wrinkles and red veins. Hidden beyond the physical limitations of your sight there lies a wealth of information that is still fully detectable by the view of your soul. Through a brief glance one should see specks of hopes and dreams, of hardship and despair, a kaleidoscope view of their life in general. This view, constantly confusing and twisting, shows no specifics, not one true fact. But still, through the eyes you learn the essence of a man, what he truly is and what he ever will be.


The eyes of the resident in room nine held little to view. They were grey and hollow, devoid of life. Not a single emotion or word came from this thoughtless, robotic body. It is hard to call such a thing a man but in truth that’s what it was. Here was a man who lived everyday the same way, a routine of awful simplicity and silence. Day after day, Mr. Oroveski was hand fed his pills with his meals. He was talked to gently by his nurses, most of whom had given up on any thought of a recovery, and the others remained hopeful only through pure blind faith.

Mr. Oroveski’s waking world was white. His clothes were white, his sheets and pillows. The paint on the walls were white, the pills were white, hell even a majority of the staff was white. The colors of the mental ward were as blank and dull as his mind. When they were done and had fed him, bathed him, whispered slowly into his ears, let him bask in his white world, they all took the path of a modern parent when they no longer know what to do to entertain a child. At least thrice a day, some caregiver or another would wheel this man in front of a television or next to a radio, in hopes that this would provide some solace to someone in such a frightening condition. After all, what does one say to a person who cannot, or in fact will not, respond? For in reality, it was not the pills that made this patient near catatonic, but the patient himself. Beyond the balancing medications, through the lifeless eyes of Dimitri Oroveski, lay the man himself. Dimitri was trapped beyond normal recognition, and not by the locked doors of this institution, but within the massive vault of his own mind.


This changed at night, at least for him. As soon as the lights went out in room nine, and its resident’s mind finally succumbed to inevitable sleep, he went from one hell to another. From a world of eternal nothingness to dreams filled with bright colorful images and information that was too painful to bear. It is from this nocturnal world that the true story begins. While not a thing changed that night according to the graveyard workers at Tragare Mental Hospital, in the carefully constructed prison of Ed’s psyche a revolution was about to take place and a journey was set to unfold. Without a witness in the waking world, a war would soon begin.

So, I was reading over your second piece and there are a few things I'd be careful with. While it can be really interesting to have the opening ideas of the eyes, maybe rewording it a little could bring the reader in more. Rather than saying "one should see", perhaps "one may see". Reader's often recoil from someone telling them what they 'should' thing or see, especially in the beginning of a story before any real established relationship happens with the author.

The second paragraph has a nice way of introducing the character while transitioning from the first paragraph's ideas. A few ways to maybe make this paragraph stronger are to either add a bit more detail in it, or maybe some shorter sentences. For instance, in your 'white' paragraph, you use parallelism to build the idea of his world and the monotony it has. Maybe start building that feeling of repetition earlier. The advantage of having a few shorter sentences is it will reflect the character's mental view of the world, and the thoughless-ness he should have.

Second to last paragraph: " For in reality," is a little awkward."patient himself." ends one sentence then "man himself" ends the other, and that could also be something to consider revising because it doesn't come across as intentional repetition, just accidental.


Overall, interesting read and you are building a strong voice.