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[GiglameshDespair]

After observing the room I sat up in the stretcher. As I began getting up my  head felt lighter and I began to get dizzy. The heart monitor was now steadily beeping once every about second and a half and was getting pretty annoying.

The heart monitor was now beeping? You knew how it was beeping before?
You could could show the monitor was getting irritating rather than just say 'it's annoyin'.'

I swung my legs around to the left side of the bed opposite of the heart rate monitor as to not knock it over. Once I was finally sitting upright I saw a doctor laying

Lying, not laying, in this case.

on the floor.
The doctor seemed to be unconscious but I could hear groaning from his direction but his face was on the ground. I ignored him for now and observed the floor, there was short tan grass growing out of the cracks. I saw a grey drawstring bag on the ground near the door with a crowbar next to it.

So he just dismisses the person on the floor? Rather odd thing to do when you (presumably) wake up in a hospital. How does he know he's a doctor? Is he dressed as one? Say so. A short-haired man in grimy doctor's wear sprawled facedown on the ground, occasionally admitting a groan. Seeing no movement, I continued quickly glancing around in confusion.

The heart rate monitor was still beeping steadily and I was getting really annoyed, so I grabbed the needle that was in my arm, and attached to the monitor, and pulled it out. A sting of pain shot through my arm as I slowly pulled it out of my skin.

You should reword this. Saying you pulled it out of you skin twice is redundant. I grabbed the needle in my arm and slowly pulled it out, a string of pain shooting through my arm. Blood oozed from the puncture and slowly trickled down my arm.

There was a drop of blood that pooled at the hole in my arm and slowly began to flow down my arm only to stop a few inches down and begin to harden.

That's one hell of a short time for blood to congeal.

The doctor began to groan louder and then as the pain stopped I could hear the monitor emitting a loud high pitch noise that was starting to hurt my ears.
I got up to look at the draw string and as I stepped forward with my left foot and when I tried to pull my right foot but there was something holding it back. I looked back and noticed that the doctor had reached out and grabbed my ankle. I fear I kicked his arm releasing his grip and I jumped back against the wall.
The doctor began getting up and I noticed that his whole front was covered in caked dried blood, his skin was a pale white saturated in olive green, his eyes were covered in a greyish white film, his left cheek was cleaved off just hanging on his face with the cheek bone sticking out partly chipped, and his left arm seemed to be fractured in several places. His right arm had been propping his body up while he got his legs under himself. This was one of my more horrified moments in life.

Quite of lot of things in here are oddly worded (I fear I kicked his arm; this is one of my more horrified moments) and you have a run on sentence.  Once again, so the protagonist just ignored the guy face down on the floor groaning until he got up as a zombie? Rather peculiar.

I stood up and

...and what? You've just stopped in a middle of a sentence.

----

Your writing tells, rather than shows, and that's the main problem. It's informative in the way a manual is: it merely says 'things are like this' without adding anything, but it isn't even that informative. How does the protagonist feel about the things he sees? How does he react to events that occur? Think of all the senses, as well. Does he smell the decay of the corpse, sickly sweet like rotten fruit? He observes the room. Well, what does his see? For all we know he might be in R'lyeh rather than a hospital.

[Cryxis, Prince of Doom]

Sorry lots of typos
I'm probably going to re write that while chunk today

Turns out writing a story while taking notes isn't the best idea

[Noel.se]

I'm new to this, and I thought I could write a story. Critique is of course appreciated.

Spoiler: Part 1 (click to show/hide)

Charles's frantic breathing was the only sound cutting through the silence. He stood in a large hall illuminated by a weak, bluish light. Three battered streets led out of it. He vaguely recalled that the rightmost might bring him to one of his factories, so he started running again.
There was no time to be lost.
He was not disappointed. No more than five minutes later the next room came into sight. On each one of the about thirty meters long walls there were one or two metallic doors. A closer examination revealed a sign on the other side reading "37th steel recycling facility, Greenwoods". Charles darted across the room and inserted his ID card into the opening next to the entrance. It opened with a loud rumble, and fell shut after allowing him to enter what might be a safe haven... unless his purser had some way of cutting through metal.
The inside of the building was almost a bit eerie. The factory was currently not running and the dim light made the machinery look strange and distorted. The silence in what would usually be a very loud place gave it the atmosphere of an old  house on an abbandoned planet. A safety reiling separated the entrance hall from a corridor covered by four assembly lines running from one side to the other. He climbed over them and crawled under a large tank, thus blocking the line of sight between him and the door.
Once again he tried and failed to phone his father. He didn't actually expect to succeed: Whoever wanted to see him dead appeared to be very powerful and probably disabled the signal for the whole region. The only thing Charles could do now was wait.
Suddenly he heard to sound of a metal cutter being activated. He gave a nervous look to his clock.
One minute.
A loud screech echoed throught the hall as the device cut its way through steel.
Thirty seconds.
A loud bang occured as the door fell down.
Ten seconds. And the other man must have noticed it to, because Charles could now hear the sound of footsteps getting more and more silent as his pursuer ran away.
Five seconds.
Finally, the whole factory came to life. A bright and golden light hurt Charles's darkness-adjusted eyes and a loud rumble signaled the falling of scrap metal into the furnaces. Most importantly, the security cameras were now running. He came out of his hiding place and prepared himself to meet the factory overseer who should come at any moment.

[Parsely]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I love it when

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

you guys post

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

one paragraph

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

at a time.

_sarcasm

*ahem* Very mysterious, looking forward to the next part. A few spelling errors here and there but overall pretty okay. Nothing really happened yet.

[mastahcheese]

If any of you thought me writing a story meant I'd stop writing poetry...

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Watch them slip away
These dark thoughts
In this masquarade
These weakened shadows
Down the hallways
Are they dreaming
Of the old days

Of wise men, with minds clear
Of heroes, with no fear
Of masters, with no peer

She feels her heart, it's beating
But she swears it feels it's bleeding
When she reaches out, and can't reach
The tortured souls that she'll meet
Their prisons can't break with all the might
Of kind words, and wrongs right
It's just empty hands and lost time
Being soul bound, a sacrifice

Of broken hearts, and cold tears
Of shattered minds, and cruel fears
Of lost souls, with no seer

He smiles bright, as time flies
Heart is ice, he won't cry
As death and war surrounds him
His compassion severed like dead limbs
He wields the blade by nightfall
Watch his breath as the snow falls
But secretly he wonders where
His old self could disappear

Of old blood, and empty pain
She's wondering if he's still the same
He's questioning if she's still sane

All the time in the world won't show
If the aching minds will ever know
The freedom that they once knew
The horrors that they once slew
But still she'll reach her heart out
With no relent and no doubt
That the light that once shone so bright
Is just hiding 'till it can take flight

The truth is peace is so near
And everything they hold dear
Was never closer than right here.

And he stops and drops the blade
Heart's not empty, now full of shame
That he fell down and lost his way
Through ignorance
Through believing it was true bliss
As he looks up, just to see her
Wishing earlier he'd known her
His judgement, his council's will
From his thoughts lost on windmills

Of misgivings, of treason
Of wasting away through seasons
Of voices crying many reasons

But she kneals down just to hold him
Thinking his chance was just so slim
To find his heart was still within
She thought his soul had surely weakened
His mind enslaved to wicked demons
But his light was still inside
And she knew this time it'd never hide

Of old times, forgiving
Of lost ways, misleading
Of new paths, still reaching
They clear the dark that clouds thoughts
And pick up pieces that wrongs wrought
They find the truth that they sought

[Cryxis, Prince of Doom]

Revision

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

After observing the room I sat up in the stretcher. As I began getting up my  head felt lighter and I began to get dizzy. The heart monitor was now steadily beeping once every about second and a half and was getting pretty annoying. I swung my legs around to the left side of the bed opposite of the heart rate monitor as to not knock it over. Once I was finally sitting upright I saw a man with light brown hair in tattered medical garb lying face down one the floor, I assumed he was a doctor. He looked dead or in a coma so I assumed him not a danger.
I ignored him for now and observed the floor, there was short tan grass growing out of the cracks. I saw a grey drawstring bag on the ground near the door with a crowbar next to it.
The heart rate monitor was still beeping steadily and was irritating me , so I grabbed the needle that was in my arm, and attached to the monitor, and pulled it out. A sting of pain shot through my arm as I slowly pulled it out of my skin. There was a slow trickle of blood going down my arm.
The doctor began to groan louder and then as the pain stopped I could hear the monitor emitting a loud high pitch noise that was hurting my ears.
I got up to look at the draw string and as I stepped forward with my left foot and when I tried to pull my right foot but there was something holding it back. I looked back and noticed that the doctor had reached out and grabbed my ankle. In fear I kicked his arm releasing his grip and I jumped back against the wall.
The doctor began getting up and I noticed that his whole front was caked in dried blood, his skin was a pale white saturated in olive green, his eyes were covered in a greyish white film, his left cheek was cleaved apart just hanging on his face with the cheek bone sticking out partly chipped, and his left arm seemed to be fractured in several places. His right arm had been propping his body up while he got his legs under himself. This was one of my more horrified moments in life.
I stood up and grabbed the crowbar, the black metal felt cold to the touch. The doctor was now standing and looking at me, it was chattering its teeth and tilting its head observing me. Seeing my chance I took the crowbar and swung at the doctors left leg attempting to incapacitate him. The back of the hooked end of the crowbar struck him in the left shin with a loud crack. I readied for another strike and noticed that his left shin was fractured and he was barely balanced. He threw himself forward but I dodged and struck his head getting the hooked end stuck in his head close to the base of his neck. The hook tore out of his neck and the body fell with blood splattering on the ground.   

Will continue updates

and yes he had been hearing the heart monitor, this is a continuation of other short posts I've made

[GiglameshDespair]

Then put 'em all together.

[Cryxis, Prince of Doom]

thought it would be easier to critique one paragraph rather a paragraph at the end of a series of writing

[Noel.se]

Thank you for the critique! Here is part two. I'm sorry to post two different chunks in such a short time span, but I just happened to have more time today than I expected. I also included more white spaces, it just seemed a bit messy to me.

Spoiler: Part 2 (click to show/hide)

This day isn't going to well, thought Erin as she walked towards her workplace.

First, the local communication signal provider had declared to be out of order for the whole day. Something like that basically never happened, but then again the northern district of the third city wasn't exactly known for offering high quality services, a fact which limited her surprise. However, since she did not use it much that day, Erin only realized that her tablet ran out of battery when she desperately needed to read her daily schedule.  She almost had forgotten to write an important report, and when she finally returned home to complete it it already was pretty late. An hour of exhausting work later she left her flat again, without eating dinner first,  to go to work. And yet it looked like she couldn't reach the factory in time.
According to her clock, the automatic startup process of the 37th steel recycling facility, Greenwoods, Initiated one minute ago. She was supposed to be there five minutes before it started. As the overseer of the plant it is her job to sit around watching the robots do their work while making sure that no one robs or sabotages the place and to press the emergency shutdown button if something goes terribly wrong.

When the factory finally came into sight she remembered herself that it also is her job to prevent people from demolishing the doors.

Why, just why did someone decide to intrude into the building the very day she was late?

At this point Erin was frightened. Her first impulse was to call the law enforcers, but then she realized that that wouldn't work. She pulled out her small pistol and slowly approached the entrance while keeping to the wall. Her heart was pounding, but her hands were still. When she was right next to the hole she paused and asked herself whether or not she was doing a smart thing. She conclude that she had no other choice.

"OSOF here, Put your hands up! I command you to identify yourself!"

"Understood. I am Charles Greenwoods." It was a male voice.

The lie (and it had to be a lie) was absolutely ludicrous. Erin peeked in. in the middle of the facility stood a man wearing a black coat. His hands were raised.

"Show me your Id card. Move slowly and only use one hand."

The man complied immediately. Erin moved into the factory, while keeping her weapon pointed at the stranger, and slowly came closer until she could read the card. When she read the name and compared the photo to the man's face the shock almost made her drop her gun.
It was Charles Greenwoods. The son of Sandra Greenwoods, the grand plutocrat who employed her and about a billion other people. Why would the heir of a person with such power and prestige be at this place? Sure, such people occasionally visited their factories... as long as they were huge facilities dedicated to nuclear weapon production or similar business. Why this man dedicated his precious time to visit an old steel recycling plant was beyond Erin's understanding.

"Do... do you know what happened here?" She asked him.

"Yes, but i'll explain it later. Lead me to the entrance to the underground path system." As
hard as he tried to sound imposing, she could sense a trace of fear.

"Well, it would be a pleasure, but the broken door..."

"That was an order!"

He technically had no right to give her orders, but the overseer complied anyway. She opened a hatch on the floor. It was not easy: no one opened it for a long time and rust covered the borders.

"Here you go."

"I need you to follow me."

Erin was confused. "Sorry but why would that be necessary?"

"Look, it is complicated. There is no time to talk but I can assure that you will die if you remain here. Now come on!"

They descended into the depths of the city. Erin closed the hatch behind her. She turned her flashlight on, as did Charles

The underground path system was mostly used by maintenance workers to survey and repair cables and pipes. It was very easy to get lost, but Erin, being an overseer, had a map of the network in the northern district. The pathways were very narrow and a stench of lubricant permeated the air. Their flashlights were the only sources of light in the darkness.

"Were to now?" She inquired. "What are we doing down here?"

"Our objective is the northern exit. We will go outside and from there we will decide what to do next."

You will decide what to do next, she thought. "The exit is a four hour walk from here."

"Well, then what are we waiting for? let's go! Oh, and we also shouldn't talk while down here. It will take some time for our pursuer to come here without being recorded on the cameras, but once he succeeds he could hear us."

"Is ‘he‘ the person who tore down the door?"

"Yes. Now be quiet."

Here is the revised version of part 1:

Spoiler: Part 1 (click to show/hide)

Charles's frantic breathing was the only sound cutting through the silence. He stood in a large hall illuminated by a weak, bluish light. Three battered streets led out of it. He vaguely recalled that the rightmost might bring him to one of his factories, so he started running again.

There was no time to be lost.

He was not disappointed. No more than five minutes later the next room came into sight. On each one of the about thirty meters long walls there were one or two metallic doors. A closer examination revealed a sign on the other side reading "37th steel recycling facility, Greenwoods". Charles darted across the room and inserted his ID card into the opening next to the entrance. It opened with a loud rumble, and fell shut after allowing him to enter what might be a safe haven... unless his pursuer had some way of cutting through metal.

The inside of the building was almost a bit eerie. The factory was currently not running and the dim light made the machinery look strange and distorted. The silence in what would usually be a very loud place gave it the atmosphere of an old  house on an abandoned planet. A safety railing separated the entrance hall from a corridor covered by four assembly lines running from one side to the other. He climbed over them and crawled under a large tank, thus blocking the line of sight between him and the door.
 
Once again he tried and failed to phone his father. He didn't actually expect to succeed: Whoever wanted to see him dead appeared to be very powerful and probably disabled the signal for the whole region. The only thing Charles could do now was wait.

Suddenly he heard to sound of a metal cutter being activated. He gave a nervous look to his
clock.

One minute.

A loud screech echoed through the hall as the device cut its way through steel.

Thirty seconds.

A loud bang occurred as the door fell down.

Ten seconds. And the other man must have noticed it to, because Charles could now hear the sound of footsteps getting more and more silent as his pursuer ran away.

Five seconds.

Finally, the whole factory came to life. A bright and golden light hurt Charles's darkness-adjusted eyes and a loud rumble signaled the falling of scrap metal into the furnaces. Most importantly, the security cameras were now running. He came out of his hiding place and prepared himself to meet the factory overseer who should come at any moment.

[TD1]

If any of you thought me writing a story meant I'd stop writing poetry...

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Watch them slip away
These dark thoughts
In this masquarade
These weakened shadows
Down the hallways
Are they dreaming
Of the old days

Of wise men, with minds clear
Of heroes, with no fear
Of masters, with no peer

She feels her heart, it's beating
But she swears it feels it's bleeding
When she reaches out, and can't reach
The tortured souls that she'll meet
Their prisons can't break with all the might
Of kind words, and wrongs right
It's just empty hands and lost time
Being soul bound, a sacrifice

Of broken hearts, and cold tears
Of shattered minds, and cruel fears
Of lost souls, with no seer

He smiles bright, as time flies
Heart is ice, he won't cry
As death and war surrounds him
His compassion severed like dead limbs
He wields the blade by nightfall
Watch his breath as the snow falls
But secretly he wonders where
His old self could disappear

Of old blood, and empty pain
She's wondering if he's still the same
He's questioning if she's still sane

All the time in the world won't show
If the aching minds will ever know
The freedom that they once knew
The horrors that they once slew
But still she'll reach her heart out
With no relent and no doubt
That the light that once shone so bright
Is just hiding 'till it can take flight

The truth is peace is so near
And everything they hold dear
Was never closer than right here.

And he stops and drops the blade
Heart's not empty, now full of shame
That he fell down and lost his way
Through ignorance
Through believing it was true bliss
As he looks up, just to see her
Wishing earlier he'd known her
His judgement, his council's will
From his thoughts lost on windmills

Of misgivings, of treason
Of wasting away through seasons
Of voices crying many reasons

But she kneals down just to hold him
Thinking his chance was just so slim
To find his heart was still within
She thought his soul had surely weakened
His mind enslaved to wicked demons
But his light was still inside
And she knew this time it'd never hide

Of old times, forgiving
Of lost ways, misleading
Of new paths, still reaching
They clear the dark that clouds thoughts
And pick up pieces that wrongs wrought
They find the truth that they sought

I absolutely love this one. In fact, I seem to love all the poems you write.Curse your poetical superiority! 

Also, here's something I'd really like someone to look over. It's my personal statement for UCAS, and I know that's not quite what this thread is about, I'd still appreciate the help. My preferred courses would be English with Creative Writing or English and History, so the Personal Statement had to accomodate both. I have, of course, removed place names

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I am very excited at the prospect of studying in University. I believe that my love for writing, and appreciating the context of such writing, makes this course ideal for me. I am very enthusiastic about poetry in particular, and seeing how it reflects our cultural development through the ages adds, for me, another depth to appreciate. I thoroughly enjoy reading, and have done so from a young age. The works of authors such as Walter de la Mare and Dylan Thomas continue to impress me even to this day, and volunteering in (A library that’s quite old, but which I won’t tell you the name of), only helps to facilitate my love of such works. My intention is that this course will also assist me in a similar way, helping me to work towards a job whilst still being something I can enthuse about.
As part of my work for the Library I handle old texts, most hundreds of years old. The amount of knowledge of past times stored in the records and books astounds me, and I take much pleasure in searching through these manuscripts for information that Library visitors require. Another feature of my work is the greeting of visitors, and showing them areas of interest in the Library on public display. Consequently, I have received much experience with the public and have achieved a sense of confidence when working with others. As well as this I also spoke in the Debating Society, which I believe helped me to air my views in a proficient and relevant manner. I am an ardent contributor to online stories, and have received much positive feedback from the readers, some even going so far as to illustrate favoured scenes with art. Many have commented on the poetry I have written in connection to such stories, expressing their liking for it. As well as this, I am in the process of writing my own book. I believe that in doing so I am learning how to write a cohesive piece of text, and that the skills used may be transferrable into the writing of essays and other works. When in new areas I take much care to visit places of particular interest, amongst them being Wordsworth’s House. This had a guided tour that, whilst being gripping, gave me a feel for the time in which Wordsworth lived and worked. While there, I also visited his nearby grave and gained an insight into the character of the man who planted Yew trees in what was to be his own graveyard. Similarly, I plan on going to Lougharne to see the house of Dylan Thomas, another poet whom I admire. As well as such local places, I have visited the Somme in France. Visiting a relative’s grave who died fighting in that battle drove home to me how tragic the war really was, and leant me extra perspective into works on the war, an example being “In Flanders Fields,” and also any contemporary writing from the time. During my time in the [school name], I was a member of the Journalism club and helped compile information for the BBC school report. In doing so, I had to structure and organise information pertaining to the [Something] Plan.
In my spare time, I enjoy reading and cycling. The latter enables me to enjoy the surrounding country in which I live, while the latter gives me the opportunity to expand my knowledge. Books I have read range from “A Practical Introduction to Phonetics” by J.C. Catford to Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings.”   I have also spent some time rowing with members of the [Town Name] Boat Club. I found this particularly suitable, as not only was it a good form of exercise which I was interested in, but it also involved working with a group in order to maintain balance. A keen interest of mine is genealogy-I love tracing back the family’s roots, usually down the direct line, and seeing how my ancestors lived. It is very interesting seeing what my predecessors did, if such information can be found. Politics also interest me, and I enjoy airing my views on current affairs in a reasoned argument.

I don't think it's quite complete. I have enough characters left over with which to work if I need to add to it. This is my first time writing a personal statement, so I'm a bit nervous about handing it in, even if only as a draft, tomorrow.

[GiglameshDespair]

Seems alright to me.

[hops]

Seems like the thread may have enough attention on it to restart the prompt thing again.

[Arx]

Nice suspense and storyline, but watch your tenses - you're jumping between past and present, which is bad.

[GiglameshDespair]

'More and more silent' seems a very strange way of wording it to me. To me, something is silent or it isn't; maybe it should be 'more and more quiet' or 'quieter and quieter'.

Double-check your 'where's and 'were's.

[Moogie]

Ooh, this looks fun. I've been drafting my first 'serious' attempt at a story this year, and I'm starting to think it's sounding okay. I need your best criticisms to knock me down a peg and remind me I'm still a novice at this! Mind if I throw you guys an excerpt?

Spoiler: Primer: brief summary of events that lead our characters to this scene (click to show/hide)

Dannil and Caelan embarked on a cross-country journey together, hitching a ride with a merchant caravan. On a particularly empty stretch of road, a group of highwaymen sprung from ambush, killing the guards. Our protagonists attempted to flee, but were run down. Dannil suffered a couple of nasty blows to the head and now suffers a powerful headache as he and his friend, now prisoners, await what comes next.

Spoiler: Excerpt proper (click to show/hide)

    “How’s your head?” Caelan asked after a long time, his voice soft. It took an effort to respond.
    “Thundering…”
    A small gap in the door allowed daylight to cut a blazing ribbon of light through the shed. It burned my eyes to look near it. I drew my knees up and lay my aching head on them. Outside, I could hear our captors celebrating their haul, laughing and cheering riotously, no doubt divvying up the spoils of the raid, and I found myself regretting an awful lot of things that day. But mostly, I just wished they’d left us for dead out on the plain.
    Caelan didn’t speak again; either he slept, or just remained quiet, perhaps for my sake. But I couldn’t sleep, and I don’t know how long it was I remained like that. It could have been minutes, hours… But not too long, as it was still daylight outside when the latch on the door slid open again, and I heard the sound of footsteps shuffle into the room.
    When I lifted my gaze, the room was awash in a soft bronze glow. A small travel lantern burned quietly to one side, resting on a stack of crates piled against the wall, and before me knelt an old woman, her hair tied back behind her eyes with a thin piece of cloth. A pail of steaming water and what looked to be medical supplies were set on the ground beside her. The scent of lavender filled the room, an odd reminder of home, replacing the stuffy miasma of sweat and bare earth. The woman waited patiently for me to meet her gaze, and when I did so, offered a warm smile.
    “May I?” She said.
    Had I not spotted the stain of blood soaking my knees as I lowered them, I might have stubbornly refused. But I closed my eyes and nodded. She reached out and gently brushed my hair away from the wound. The touch felt oddly cold, like metal, and I flinched away. The sudden movement must have surprised her.
    “What are you doing?”
    She looked puzzled for a moment. I looked at her hands—  they were empty, recoiled somewhat defensively, but not threatening.
    “I won’t hurt you, I promise. I just need to take a look.” She said calmly, as if to reassure a frightened child. Deciding the effort to remain suspicious was only making my headache worse, I mumbled an apology and allowed her to try again. I watched her this time.
    “It doesn’t look too deep,” She said after a moment. “But you may have cracked your skull. I’ll have to clean and dress it to prevent infection.”
    She wrung out a cloth that had been soaking in the hot water and gently began wiping away the blood from my face and head. I guessed she must have been the camp’s resident medic, or otherwise she’d certainly spent some time as a professional field nurse. Not at all fazed by the wound, at least not visibly; she worked with an air of confident ability. After patting me dry with a cloth, she took a length of gauze and bandaged around my forehead.
    “What about my friend, is he injured?” I asked.
    I looked over to where Caelan had been tied up, realising only at that moment he wasn’t there anymore. A twinge of panic rose in my chest.
    “Where is he?” I said, locking my eyes on hers. I hadn’t heard anyone come for him. Had I slept after all?
    “Where is who?” She replied.
    “Listen—” I urged, straining against my binds. “He just got mixed up in all this. He doesn’t have anything for you, he’s not even really city-born, not truly. What is it that you people want? Money? I can get more. Just—”
    The old woman shook her head, shushing me, and laid her hand on my lips to silence my protest.
    “Calm yourself. You’ve had a nasty knock, you’re going to feel confused and disoriented for a while. It will get clearer soon. For now, just try to rest.”
    As she said this, the door swung open behind her, flooding the room with light and forcing me to avert my eyes. I heard footsteps, a rustling of material, and a familiar creaking of rope. Then a masculine voice.
    “<name> wants him now. Is it done?”
    It too sounded oddly familiar, though I couldn’t guess why. The woman responded.
    “Yes, but I really think you should let him get some rest. He has a severe concussion.”
    “Can he speak?”
    “Yes, but—”
    The man stepped forwards and began unbinding my hands from the post.
    “At least allow him a sip of Laudanum for the pain.”
    “Fine, but hurry it up.” He sighed, but he was already dragging me to my feet and guiding me towards the burning door. My head spun as the world seemed to turn in dizzying circles.
    “Here,” The woman said, and pressed a tiny cup to my lips. Surrendering to instinct, I swallowed the bitter liquid, and as I was forced out of the dark shed into the terrible sunlight, I would be glad I did.

(Edit: Actually spotted a couple of annoying problems as I was reading my own post, hah! Sorry if you caught the 'old' one. I'll leave it alone now.)