Rach's eyes flitted open as the morning sun shone through his window. He could tell that his brother hadn't woken up yet because he was still lying in bed, and not on the ground. (I didn't quite get that second sentence the first time I read it but quite liked it when I understood it.) He sat there, contemplating (contemplating seems like the wrong word to me.) how to proceed, but he decided to get up, as per usual (be careful when describing actions in this manner, it usually comes across as a little clunky.). Clothes, check. Teeth, check. Glasses, check. A second pair of glasses, check. Backpack, check. Notepad, che....
Hang on a second. (This feels pretty clunky to me. Always try to make your sentences flow.) Where was his notepad? He rummaged through his desk, under his bed, through his wardrobe. Still nothing. He hesitated, but eventually checked his brother's side of the room, looking through the drawer's (I'm not amazing at grammar but I don't think the apostrophe is needed there) and ruined bookshelves. So much dust ("There was so much dust" might work a little better.). He blew it, to see if it might reveal the whereabouts of his notepad, but it mostly just got in his eyes. When you have 4 eyes, that is twice as painful (I like the idea here, it's good characterisation/imagery, but the implementation is a little rough). He regained his vision, and found his notepad, lying half under a book, which was lying on his brother's desk.
How it got there, he had no idea (this doesn't flow quite right in my opinion), considering his brother had been dead for years. He only played pranks like this when he was alive, nowadays it was all haunting nightmares, or prophetic visions of Rach being bullied, etc. When you're a ghost, you both lose and gain a lot of available pranks. (That was a pretty great paragraph by the way, I enjoyed it.)
Rach finished contemplating (You're falling into recount territory here. Remember that you're telling a story not writing a "What I Did Over the Holidays" report for school) ghost pranks and left his room. His footsteps echoed behind him, or his brother was getting up (This sentence makes sense but is a little weird.). Ate breakfast (Again, I feel as though you're getting into recount territory here.), and headed off into the city to go about his daily business. He made his way past the broken houses and rushed up to the ruined lighthouse by the pier. That view... That view was pretty beautiful. But, that's not what he had came Should that be come or came? I'm not actually sure, but I'm not sure I like its flow at the moment. for. He walked up the stairs in the lighthouse, tracing his finger along the brittle sandstone. At the top, he sat and began working on his project.
Meanwhile... Stilia Good name, actually Rach is a good name too. was just waking up. Whatever waking up meant when you're dead, anyway. He groaned, and floated through the ceiling, to 'sit' on the roof. Luckily, he had been getting better and better at becoming corporeal, and could actually feel the tiles now. They felt rigid, but still slightly pierced his butt. Sitting here, he could see almost everything. The houses where his friends used to live, the shops where he used to go and buy food for his brother, only to come home and find dinner already made. Classic Rach. Always doing things. He only wished he could've done more for him when he was still alive. Not many problems in that paragraph, I liked it.
"Why do you care, anyway? I don't appreciate you broadcasting my thoughts like that."
I uh... erm.... hang on....
"Yeah, you don't have much else to say now, do you? Stupid narrators, thinking they know everything..."
Hey! It's a tough job.
Stilia had stopped listening to the brilliant narrator, and chuckled slightly, for no reason at all (I don't quite get that exchange.). The dusty sandstone ruins crumbled some more, below him. They had been doing that ever since... Well, since they were there. A light flashed. And another. The flashes became brighter and more frequent. It was a constant light now, nearly blinding him.
"Must be Rach's thing... Geez, that kid gets around." Why that smaller font size?
He became incorporeal once more and began flying towards the lighthouse.
Rach had made a brilliant success! (That doesn't seem to be hugely grammatically correct.) Having polished up his invention that he made mostly out of ancient ruins, he had managed to make a basic engine system (I feel as though the "system" is redundant)! This would allow him to fly, given the proper vessel. Which, he had already prepared, and he was now ecstatic with his plan finally coming together. His brother floated through the wall, and waved.
"Hey" (I've been told that you should always have a comma after speech) Stilia pretended to lounge comfortably in mid air.
"Hey! I just finished the engine! I... we can finally get off this planet! Isn't that great?" Rach's face lit up, and ("as" might work better than "and") he smiled, however much someone with mandibles for a mouth can smile. (Again, not sure about flow here)
"Yeah, that sounds pretty neat... But, you know you don't have to take me, right? I don't mind staying."
"What?! Are you kidding? I'd never dream of leaving without you! That wouldn't be very brotherly of me, now would it?" He poked his tongue "out"? at Stilia.
"Heh... Thanks, man..."
After rolling the engine down the steps, and placing it underneath the vessel, their vehicle was ready to go.
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Topic: DigitalDemon's Place Where Writing Goes Thread (Read 2411 times)