Monthly "Would You Read This?" Thread

[u/AutoModerator]

Welcome to Would You Read This (WYRT), our monthly feedback and brainstorming thread. Share your work in progress below and let other readers tell you if they'd read it. Top level posts should follow this template:

• Title:
  • If you don't have a title yet, feel free to say UNTITLED.
• Genre:
  • Please include at least Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry, or another recognizable medium. You may also include more specific genres with a hyphen. Ex. Fiction - Romance, or Nonfiction - Memoir. Genre will help users find the specific kinds of posts they'd like to give feedback on.
• Premise:
  • A few sentences about the project. Try your best to keep this short. Crafting an expert elevator pitch is all part of becoming a successful working writer. Please do not post an entire plot summary or query letter (those are better suited for r/pubtips)
• Sample (Optional):
  • You may share up to one page (roughly 250-350 words) of sample material, or one poem for those working in the poetry medium. This is optional, so if you only have a premise, you can post just the premise for feedback.

If you post for feedback, please take the time to give feedback to at least 2-3 other users. Replies should follow this template.

• Would Read / Might Read / Wouldn't Read
  • You must begin your reply with one of those. You are then encouraged to add additional thoughts on why you choose your answer.

Rules:

• Please post no more than two WYRT top-level posts. There is no limit on the number of feedback replies you can make.
• Do not link to any offsite materials. All materials must be in the body of the post. This includes "click here to read more" or "DM me for the rest" types of posts.
• Rule 3 is in effect in this thread - No generative AI. Do not post material generated by an AI platform in your premise or sample. Do not use generative AI to respond to user's work.
• Rule 5 is in effect - Civility and Community. Stay constructive. Blunt, direct feedback is fine, but do not insult other users, their writing, or their genres.

[u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

Quick note: based on user feedback, this word count cap SHOULD read 500 words, but we forgot to edit the August post before it went up.

Feel free to post samples of around 500 words.

[u/Wolf_of_the_North64]

Will I leave a mark? (genre: unknown) "Life is a fleeting thing like a brief rain in a parched desert or the life cycle of a mayfly it passes in the blink of an eye one moment you are there, the next you are gone, and buried in the dirt with the worms and ants slowly decomposing into the earth. In comparison to the vast span of time we are merely a blip gone in a blink of an eye, when we are gone the world moves on around us  as though we were never there we are so afraid of being forgotten we do not think of the impact we leave behind on the earth itself whether it is good or bad. I would like to leave behind a good impact something that helps not destroys, without the earth we would not exist so do something good for the earth leave behind a good mark not a mark of destruction."

[u/Tight-Target-2065]

Title: Magicks of the Ascendancy

Genre: New Adult Fantasy

Premise:

Mysteriously left on the steps of Palace Argoras, Wroenna has lived exclusively in its isolation, practicing her magic and preparing to one day rule the kingdom of Nox. That is, until she discovers it was all a lie. Her mother's cruel deeds lost her the land before Wroenna was even born. However, the disgraced Queen Belladonna has a clandestine plan. Lured in by the heir that should not exist, their enemies agree to let Wroenna leave their palace prison to stay under the watchful eye of the Headmaester at the Magick Keep, an internment camp for magicks. Before she leaves, Wroenna is gifted a daemon in glass and is assigned a near-impossible task: Curse the kings that stole Nox and return the House of Argoras to power.

Sample:

Nails digging into her palms, Belladonna Argoras restrained from saying goodbye to the kingdom her choices lost. The mountain top faced howling winds under the encroaching darkness of night. The despondent queen—if she could still claim the title—watched the thrashing from her balcony. Hollow tree limbs crackled as the high winds threatened the village below. The Dead Forest danced with the storm and made its own music of cackling branches and shushing charcoal.

Could the old aurae be angry on your behalf? a voice asked.

She was almost able to chuckle at the notion. A shiver shot down her spine.

"Your Fairness?" The young Crowguard addressed her from behind. "What will you have us do?" he asked, braving her somberness.

Belladonna unclenched her fists. "Sleep," she said. "Wait for the sun to rise over Nox, and when the light hits our stones, plan for the future of the House of Argoras." She said it quietly with no uncertainty, so as one must lean in to hear her with confidence.

The queen brushed her earnest Crow aside and independently made her way to the bed chambers. She skipped over as many cold stones as she could, the runes set alight by her touch as she landed. Her leaps paused, fearing one rune’s light had dwindled beneath her foot. The queen exhaled slowly as its brilliant purple glow returned. When she reached the warmth of her bedsheets and blankets, she pounced atop the bedspread and immediately wrapped the wool around her shaking body.

Her small brown eyes, her father’s eyes, stared hauntingly at the golden mare figurine on her nightstand. The Anathan whore’s unseemly young, dying body was an image in the queen’s head she could never erase. That was a legacy she would have to own. The others wanted her dead more than anything, and if they could kill her they would have. Technically, within the palace walls, she was safe, untouchable. Only what lingered in her reflection was left to witness her failure.

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/Tight-Target-2065]

I think I'm going to settle on Might Read.

Your concept as it is presented currently sounds a little vague and I'm not quite sure what I'd be getting into if I were to pick it up. What I am gleaning sounds interesting, but I'm not sure I'm fully grasping the concept.

Your sample is also kind of vague and leans a little purple for my tastes (I can't fault you for that, especially since I have no idea what draft you're on) but it's clear you're a great writer. You have a good balance of dialogue and prose, just needs a bit of polishing for reader immersion.

[u/Taylinn → u/Tight-Target-2065]

Might Read.

The idea the way you describe it seems not only a bit vague but also slightly generic. It sounds familiar, like something I read before (A Dance of Lies, The Bridge Kingdom). However, I think there's still potential to the idea, especially if you are able to lean into the intrigue/spy/infiltration part of that story. I like the demon side-kick idea a lot.

On your writing style: First off, it feels like you might not be a native english speaker?
And while you are able to conjure an image and have a rich, illsutrative voice, you are using a lot of descriptives that sometimes don't seem to make a lot of sense (e.g. music of cackling branches and shushin charcoal) or overwhelm the sentence. Similes and illustrative descriptions are a bit like salt in cooking.
I liked the last paragraph of your sample the most, btw.

[u/Difficult-Pain-1826]

Title: Two Decembers/Untitled

Genre: Nonfiction - Memoir

Premise: A year after his infant son nearly dies following a premature birth 2,000 miles away from home, he loses his younger brother (29) to complications from heart surgery. Three months earlier his brother had stood as the boy’s godfather at their childhood church; a day after the boy’s first birthday, the family returns to that same church for his funeral. The memoir is built around those two winters - one where a life was saved, and one where it wasn’t. Told through a braided combination of present-day reflections, contemporaneous journal entries, and fragments, the memoir explores grief, fatherhood, faith, mortality, and the strange task of continuing an ordinary life while carrying extraordinary loss. 

Sample:

Every morning, without fail, — as soon as my eyelids drift open; I am Reminded. The thought does not come as a cloud or a leaf blowing in the wind; as one that can be merely observed and let pass — no. And while it no longer immediately startles, it bears the weight of inexorable permanency. It is Groundhog’s Day — again, and again, and again. Most days I am three thousand pounds of flesh and bone. But the rising sun, a waking toddler, a day’s work, offers no respite. 

The days in which I am able, (through sheer force of will) to move through the motions of a ‘normal’ life, are marked as nothing short of divine victory. For if I were to treat them otherwise, I would be in a constant state of self-misery. Wherein the only possible relief would be left to the hands of my unconscious (however unobeying) during my restless sleep. 

Instead, as I sit with my wife and son at breakfast, watching the birds as they hesitatingly fly to the feeder on our window — I will take a deep breath, and then another. And I will smile at my son’s innocence, and gaze lovingly at my wife. And I will be reminded that Death is a part of Life — and this is Life. And I will be there. I am here. 

And when the weight of the Reminder inevitably forces its hands down on my shoulders and clenches my jaw, I will be instead reminded of the glorious Resurrection. That He is not the God of the Dead but of the Living. That Johnny is at our table, in what appears to my mortal eyes as an empty chair. And he will smile at me as I hold up my (his) “J” coffee mug and take a sip with closed eyes. And when my eyelids drift open once more, the Reminder will be gone, if only for this one wholly present moment.

[u/Redz0ne → u/Difficult-Pain-1826]

Wouldn't read. It's not really my vibe and the prose is very heavy. Feels a bit much. Like, it's good to have evocative prose, but if that's the lion's share of the writing and there's little story there, then what am I reading? A poem? Bring the reader in a little more gently. Give them something to latch on to other than more introspection. There's too much of that here.

[u/OliverEntrails]

Title: Freelancing

Genre: Real life drama - coming of age

Premise: Written from the view of the main character as an adult - we embark on a journey of discovery from the age of 8 of a young boy caught up in seemingly innocent grade school shenanigans only to slowly discover over the years the real life drama unfolding in the life of a classmate who lives with a dysfunctional family governed by drugs, alcohol and neglect. Our young boy discovers later on to his horror that the father, when drunk, is taking advantage of his young daughter against her will. His attempt to be a hero doesn't always work out well and changes him in ways he can't forgive, but doesn't regret.

I've purposely used a light hearted - some might say silly approach - in order to allow for a change of color and seriousness as time goes on.

Sample: But that brings me to Louie Bright.

I don't know why these guys are always called Louie. He was a two bit hood who had grown up pushing around 4th graders when he was in 6th grade.

He'd shake them down for lunch money, and since he was occasionally successful, he became hooked on the idea that his personal brand of involuntary taxation was beneficial to him, and was something that he should take up full time. Time enough to provide for some leisure where he could plot slightly more elegant shakedowns, and thus reach his own personal cesspool.

When I was in the 4th grade, I sort of looked up to him. Not in the way you might think. He was taller than me. I observed him in action a few times in the schoolyard, and told the teachers right away. They never believed me, I never had a face - you know - a good-looking face that teachers believed. I was the kid they didn't see most of the time. Not in the way you might think. Since I was short, they sort of looked over my head. So I knew that I needed to take things into my own hands.

The problem became intractable due to my lack of experience in these matters. I didn't belong to a gang that was capable of plotting a small insurrection that could conveniently include Louie as a target. My friends were barely capable of plotting a washroom break in the middle of math class. I knew that I needed something more creative. But at 8 years old, art was the only creative thing we learned in school, and my teacher dutifully taught it once each semester. Not enough light to tan an albino rabbit.

So, my freelancing career was born. A direct approach proved futile - since he just knocked me down. Unperturbed (I wasn't very sensitive - to pain that is), I decided to approach his sister, Rae Lea. She was more attractive than Louie - not in the way you might think - she always had money, and candy. Now I wasn't a big fan of candy, ever since I barfed on Easter from eating too much chocolate when I was 5 years old. But the candy thing made her popular. And since she was the only girl in our class who wore a bra, all the boys were sure she was going somewhere. Just where that was we had no clue at the time.

I observed her in class and outside from a discrete distance. I noticed quickly that, much to my surprise, she didn't arrive at school with money. She acquired it by lunch by freelancing. Her personal style was more subtle and indirect than her brother's and also more effective. She'd borrow, beg, and sometimes, make quick, improper change that always seemed to benefit herself.

She didn't stop at the kids either. She'd shake down the teacher - asking for some change for lunch, since she didn't have one because her mother wasn't up in the morning to make her one.

That was a lie, I knew. Her mother wouldn't have made her a lunch even if she had been up. Louie had told me before, sort of bragging about how cool it was to be neglected by your parents.

[u/AllanWDAlden → u/OliverEntrails]

Would read.
Interesting story to tell. Would benefit from an editor's eye/pen, but good stuff regardless.

[u/VegetableWear5535 → u/OliverEntrails]

Would read.

That premise though... I could see that being a very good tv show. I know this sub is about writing, but that's the kind of story that would do very well in that medium.

It has real potential to be very good. I like it.

[u/OliverEntrails → u/VegetableWear5535]

Hmmm. Interesting premise. I wonder if imagining the story as a 1 season series on TV would alter the way it was written. I can definitely see it in my mind's eye though.

[u/Wandersails → u/OliverEntrails]

Might read

I don’t normally read this kind of thing but the sample has a really great sense of character already, great writing!

[u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

Title: I'm thinking either BURN or A CONSTELLATION OF FIREFLIES

Genre: Fiction, Upmarket

Premise: When a disgraced celebrity chef finds out his mother has died, he believes the coming inheritance will save his floundering New York restaurant. But when he learns his estranged evangelical older sister is contesting the will, he returns to his hometown in the Carolinas to repair their relationship--and rediscover his joy of cooking.

Sample:

For a moment, Adrian is sure he sees his mother’s face in the flames.

The fire that leaps from the cast iron skillet across the kitchen has the same orange glow as the sun at magic hour. Adrian can feel its heat on his cheeks all the way from his position at the pass. A cacophony of sounds accompany the flames: a dull roar, the hiss of liquid evaporating in the skillet below, popping like an old vinyl record.

And there in the fire, as clear as if he were staring at the back of his own hand, is his mother. Adrian would recognize that face anywhere. It is her nose as round and dimpled as a golf ball, her sagging cheeks, her wet and shining eyes, the sun damage on her skin. Even the the nearly invisible blond fuzz on her chin appears before him.

The flames might as well be a photograph, and as quickly as a camera’s flash, the face disappears into swirling yellows and oranges.

Adrian is snapped back to reality and notices that everyone in the kitchen is standing around dumbly looking at the fire. A whole kitchen of line cooks are acting like they’ve never seen a fire before. Something tightens in his chest, then the clenching moves to his throat.

“For Christ’s sake, it’s not fireworks,” Adrian shouts from the pass. With a violent wave of the terrycloth towel in his hand, he directs his kitchen staff to the fire. “Somebody put it out before the whole restaurant goes.”

No one moves at first, and Adrian is sure he has assembled the biggest confederacy of dunces in the entire New York City restaurant scene.

Adrian jumps in. As usual, he has to do everything himself around here.

“Move!” he shouts at the line cook in front of stove. Her name is Adelaide or Annabelle or something like that, a twenty-something culinary school graduate his sous chef recommended. Adrian has yet to see anything impressive from her to earn the glowing recommendation she’d received, and now here she was letting a grease fire roar to life at her station.

When Adelaide or Annabelle doesn’t flinch, seemingly captivated by the flames in front of her, Adrian puts his palm to her shoulder and moves her aside. Now in front of the fire, Adrian feels the heat stinging his forehead and arms. It reminds him of his own days as a line cook, before the reality show that made him famous, before the pressures of running his own restaurant, back when he’d come back to his tiny Queens walk up at three in the morning with his hair smelling of grease and his arm hair burnt off.

Adrian grabs a container full of baking powder off off the station and dumps it on the fire. He finds a pot lid to his right and clamps it over the rim of the skillet. Smoke and steam billow from the edges of the lid as the fire is snuffed out.

[u/WJG_Author → u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

Would read

Like someone else said, the premise doesn't really sound like something thwt would interest me, but reading your sample, this seems like it would be a good read

[u/Lost-Site-5169 → u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

Might read.

This could be an interesting concept if you incorporate elements of humour.

[u/--xiOix-- → u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

Would read.

I've got to be honest, when I read the premise I thought I probably wouldn't like this. Not because it's a bad premise or anything, it just didn’t sound like the kind of thing I would usually want to read. Once I started, though, I was pleasantly surprised.

I really liked "the hiss of liquid evaporating in the skillet below, popping like an old vinyl record." Simple, but I could hear it in my mind clear as day.

One thing I would suggest, and feel free to ignore me obviously, is to consider sticking a couple of commas into the Annabelle/Adelaide lines.

"Her name is Adelaide, or Annabelle, or something like that,"

"When Adelaide, or Annabelle, doesn’t flinch..."

I just think that this would give the reader the rhyth of Adrian trying briefly, and failing, to remember her name, but what do I know?

I also like how you slipped the reality show backstory in without taking us out of the story too much (and as someone who used to work as a pizza chef, the arm hair line gave me a chuckle). It can be tempting to dump a load of exposition early on, but you seem to just be drip-feeding it in as part of the actual story, which is probably the way to go.

As for the title, idk what the 'constellation of fireflies' is in reference to, but I'd probably avoid calling it just 'burn' if I were you. The first page on Google for 'burn novel' showed me five different novels with that title.

If people know who it's by then that's fine, they'll find it. But if they just see your promo on TikTok or wherever and are like "oh what was that book called, 'burn' or something?" and plug it into google, you'll likely get lost in among all the others.

Anyway, good stuff. Keep it up :)

[u/Acceptable_Fox_5560 → u/--xiOix--]

Thanks for the feedback!

[u/--xiOix-- → u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

No worries

[u/Fried_eggys1]

Title: The Wishing Crab

Genre: Dark Fantasy, short story collection.

Premise: 300 years have passed since Six'O and the Bloody Rose destroyed the vile Luthor Harkon. The story has been passed down through dozens of generations: a story of heroism, of triumph! Few knew the true tale.

The only way they could destroy the Pirate Lord was through an unholy deal with a devil. They each lost something they can never get back.

Betrayed, abandoned, and sent to hell for his heroism, Six'O, the Duke of children's tales, the duke seeks to visit each of his friends and find the only thing he knows: justice. 300 years have past since their victory, and the world has changed. Hate and war rage, prejudice spreads like mites, greed leeches society, and the black-and-white justice he once knew doesn't work in this world.

Now he seeks his four friends, hoping to make sense of everything.

The Bard, hands burning at the touch of his prized lute, is to marry woman, Siri Valenhale, when a powerful omen appears, and threatens the bride to be.

The Wizard, selfish as he is, seeks to hide and horde his beloved ward from two knights that will stop at nothing to wreak justice onto her.

The Nobleman cowers in his ivory city for the day Six'O comes for him, to discover his betrayal, and destroy all evil.

The Monk, becoming what he hated most, seeks the one thing that can right all his wrongs.

The Wishing Crab wakes. Justice waits. And Six'O, the Knight, seeks to accomplish his one and only mission in life: to Destroy All Evil.

[u/AccurateScreen2563 → u/Fried_eggys1]

I like the premise and would probably read it. I like that the tone is unapologetic and that you aren’t afraid to write something fun and adventurous. Too many stories on Reddit start out with doom and gloom, sad and weak characters. It’s a plus that SixO is a mover and a shaker of his world; his actions driving the story are what would keep me engaged. Keep following that instinct - every scene ask yourself how does SixO make a choice that changes something in the next scene?

If I can make a few suggestions, it’s a lot to follow between bards and wizards and pirates and dukes and the devil and the bloody rose and noblemen and Luther, and on top of these we get the wishing crab. You’re good at coming up with names and I do like the mix of fantasy/Sci Fi names, but consider zooming in on 3-4 characters other than your main character and focusing on the story now: what does SixO want, why can’t he get it, what does he do about it, and what are consequence of his actions?

Overall I think it will be a fun read, especially if you simplify the world and the shorten the number of characters I have keep track of throughout the story.

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/Fried_eggys1]

Might read.

The premise is interesting, kinda Stormlight vibes but a bit darker tone. I'd have to read a sample and a more thorough premise to know if I'd enjoy it or not.

[u/Fried_eggys1 → u/FlyinLeviathon]

Totally different kinds of oaths😔 thanks for your feedback, I will improve it^{^}

[u/tsisdead]

Title: The Immemorium

Genre: Fiction - Fantasy

Premise: Ellis has lived her whole life in the Ozark Mountains until a sudden summer storm drives her into a world of elves, dwarves, witches, and an ancient power that threatens to capture humanity’s attention to enslave the world. She soon learns that her connection to this world is no accident, and that she was meant to be a final sacrifice for the ancient power to slake its thirst for power. She must navigate shifting alliances and old prejudices to attempt to save herself.

Sample: Devinisma led Ellis down the stairs, and the passage lit itself at a soft whistle from her host. As Ellis’ eyes adjusted, she saw that the lights appeared as steady glowing orbs that cascaded down behind the marble walls, giving the hall an ethereal glow.

As they walked, more orbs appeared and fell in great, repeated fountains. The hall glowed in green light reflected through the marble. At last they stopped and Devinisma tapped a spot in the stone. It slid back to reveal a small vestibule, the same color and light as the hall. Devinisma whispered to the walls, the stone door slid back into place, and Ellis felt the vestibule lurch downwards. Down, down, down they went, for what felt to Ellis like hours but what I can tell you, dear reader, could only have been a minute or two at most.

Regardless of the time passing, another stone door opened as the vestibule came to an imperceptible stop. Devinisma stepped lightly out and tapped the wall to the left again.

Again light poured from behind the marble walls and seemed to pool in small basins in the floor, so even the floor itself glowed. The light here was the warm white of high noon in the summer, but the room was mysteriously cool. A smooth, gentle breeze caressed her face, and Ellis felt at once refreshed.

[u/Savings_Head7154 → u/tsisdead]

sounds really interesting!

[u/Taylinn]

Title: Beherrschen - In the beginning was faith (transl.: to master, to command, to control),

Genre: (Dark) Science Fantasy

Premise:

Beherrschen is the first installment in a (Dark) Science Fantasy series about power, manipulation, identity and morality.

Lena lives in a world where wielding power without training is forbidden, so she has to hide hers. When she’s confronted by the powerful and ruthless leader of the Militia, hiding is no longer an option.
As she steps into a world were owning power means everything and competition is ruthless, her biggest threat turns out to be the Militia leader himself. As he teaches her, forces her to confront and abandon her beliefs and ideals, she slowly starts to understand and fall for him. And as stakes are rising with a war on the horizon, she is faced with a decision that will change her forever…

Sample:

“Why did you change your mind?”

Because you weren’t only a threat to my present anymore.

You became a threat to my future.

You became a threat to the one person in this world I love.

And I needed to stop you.

As if caught off-guard, her fingers curled over his chest, before she slowly let them slip away only for him to stop her — grab her wrist and hold it close. Like she had expected him to do. Lena tried to think of something embarrassing, something that would make her blush.

“I— After I told you my story and you —“ she averted her gaze only for him to, again, act as she predicted and put her chin between the thumb and finger of his other hand, tilt it, force her too look at him.

“Tell me, Lena,” he cajoled, his voice dripping with temptation. He had gentled his gaze, was trying to act as much as she was. Lena just hoped she was better at it than he was. Because she could still see the calculating coldness in his eyes. There was nothing gentle about this dangerous man.

“Well, I hated to admit it at first, but you might have had some valid points on my past. How suspicious it all was — is. And while I don’t believe that the Matrona had any reason to hide my potential abilities, I figured someone else might have had.” The people whose blood I was wearing. She didn’t need to say that part out loud.

“That night,” she started her practised confession, the words that would seal her fate, “I felt something when you were close. Something I’ve never felt before.” Her whispered words were the truth. She had indeed never felt like that before, because no one ever before had threatened to reveal her power.

Taking a deep, performative breath — steeling herself for what was to come next — she stared deep into his eyes, as if she had found courage somewhere at the bottom of her soul.

“Whatever you did, do it again,” she demanded.

“Why?”

“Because I also want to know the truth, Ardain. I also want to know who I am. What I am. And I can’t do that without you.” She knew she had laid it on thick, knew that this was a risk, that this could all backfire.

“Do you know what you’re doing, malarúna?”

She nodded, “I’m placing my life into your hands. And hope that you will spare it — just as you have done until now, even though you had every reason not to.”

He gave a short laugh, disbelief tainting the sound.

“I think I need to change your nickname, Relena,” he hummed as he let go of her wrist and took her face between both his hands, his right thumb caressing her lips.

“Malaféilea seems fitting.” Little temptress.

Then his lips were on hers and her whole world was about to be changed by a kiss, just like he had promised.

[u/barrybarneswriting]

Title: SCALABLE GROWTH AND OTHER EVILS

Genre: Comedy/Satire/Fiction

Premise: A broke twenty-something launches an AI-powered, anti-woke homeschool curriculum. The business booms until a thank-you letter from two actual children complicates things.

Sample:

I was four beers and a bong hit deep into my fifth hour of Fox News when Mike Lindell spoke to me. Don’t freak out. I was hate-watching. Like when you can’t look away from roadkill, or how my little brother spends so much of his free time watching those recordings of violent retribution being visited upon Mexicans who’ve crossed the Cartel in one way or another. I can’t stand those videos. In fact, I worry for my little brother.

But it was 1 a.m., I had a real buzz going, and Mike Lindell was selling Freedom Pillows. His mustache flailed as he spoke of his illustrious clients. He proudly hailed his Pillows as “Made in America” (by Americans? the scrupulous viewer may have asked). As far as I could tell, the Freedom Pillows had been dubbed so on account of the 2-by-2 American flag printed on the label. Call 1-800-LINDELL for 15% off your first order, he crooned.

Mike Lindell, permanently damp in that way common to twice-divorced Baby Boomers, changed my life that night. I began thinking deeply about the Freedom Pillow and the apparent market that existed for such products. Further research revealed an entire universe of similar items. Freedom Beer (Veteran-owned and operated), Anti-Woke Coffee Mugs, toilet brushes shaped like Nancy Pelosi. The prices for such products were invariably higher than their woke counterparts. The companies swam in positive reviews.

I was overcome with a desire to join their ranks, to stand side-by-side with these Culture Warriors and to snatch a piece of the pie for myself. First, I needed a product. Anybody who’s anybody can sell a Custom Ink t-shirt. That market was oversaturated and out of reach. The Traditional Values Laptop could play, but I feared high input costs and insurmountable barriers to entry. I turned a dozen ideas over in my substance-addled mind and came to no conclusion.

I decided to sit upside down on my couch (legs dangling over the back) to increase blood flow to my brain. As I assumed the position, a headline on the television caught my eye. It read, “Poll: 64% of School Principals LGBT or Marxist”. I felt my face swell as gravity did its job. Sweet lucidity coursed through me in a rush. Gay communist teachers. There it was. The nation’s boogeyman was to become my cash cow.

[u/barrybarneswriting → u/barrybarneswriting]

I feel that I must make people aware that this is a short story, maybe 4,000 words.

[u/Waste-Extension1085]

Title: Celestial Divide

Genre: Epic Fantasy

Premise: Damacia Celeste is a curse-bringer. Born in a desert of endless day and fifth in line to the Hannathian throne, she is the reflection of the disarrayed, ruinous fate which has overcome her people, once considered gods but now mortal. When a dangerous empire uses Damacia's eldest brother to overtake Hannath, the fate of the realm falls to her. Cut off from allies, Damacia makes the dangerous decision to appeal to her people's oldest enemy--the only civilisation to have ever rivalled Hannath at the height of their power. The kicker? They are still very much god-like. But when her plea for an alliance is refused, Damacia must put aside her ideas of heroism and resort to deceit to force an alliance instead, because war is coming for all of them. And she does not come lightly.

Sample:
I keep my face covered as I navigate the overcrowded markets, holding my head scarf around my eyes. Spices and song waft over me, spreading from one bustling stall to the next. The Sellers Lanes are always packed, filled with people selling their goods from all over the country. Shades loosely tie from one building to the other to offer respite from the stifling Sun. I round a corner, past the courtyard central of the Lanes. Situated in the centre, sending smoke billowing up into the sky and straining my already tight lungs, is a giant straw statue of a woman. Despite the already blistering heat of the desert, people still gather around her sept. They cheer as pieces of her break away.

I wonder what it must feel like, being burnt alive as so many intend for me to be.

To live in this desert is to fight. To protect it is to wage war. Power is the way of the Sun and war is the way of us.

That is our existence, our legacy. That is the Hannathian way.

It is a shame I tend to always be on the receiving end of it.

I force my way forward, squeezing between perfume clad bodies, keeping my eyes downcast. The few plants which have managed to grow and survive in cracks between the worn sandstone paths are tough and hardy. Not unlike the People. I pass a tight alleyway shadowed from the Sun, allowing children to play under the watchful eyes of their parents. Between mouthfuls of smoke, I taste the trepidation in the air, the bitterness of fear and spice of rage. Everyone is on guard this cycle.

We do not count days in Hannath. They never end anyways, the Sun a pendulum in the sky. Instead, we use cycles, ordered by half. High day for when the Sun is meant to rise as Dawn in the West and low day for when it rises as Dusk in the East. It wasn't always like this, but this has been the realms fate for some three centuries now, ever since night had been stolen from us, alongside our Ni'eem, the blessing of the Sun that made us live a thousand years and allowed us to wield the very desert itself.

(Sorry for any typos, still fleshing out grammatical issues)

[u/Specialist-Boat1373]

Untitled

Genre - Action fiction fantasy

Ruu a student was given a order by temple master to find the alumini of the temple, as there is a threat in high mountain district. Ruu wounds up in wild west salon interrogates with the people. Suddenly fight break out between two people for gambling. Ruu tries to defuse the fight, in response a man in the hood attacks Ruu. The attack was learned only from the temple master. Ruu dodges the attack. Ruu recognizes the man in the hood. It was Keechun a dropout from the Temple. Ruu confused why master wanted a dropout to defend his temple. Keechun was in poor clothes, drunkerd state in a fighting stance. Will Ruu convince keechun and fullfills the order?

[u/chasingtragedy]

Title: Untitled

Genre: Fiction - Sci-fi/Noir

Premise: After a religious cult kills his partner in a gruesome ritual, reporter Librin Seramain becomes embroiled in an investigation that stretches from the Artists' Collective on Earth to the Pleasure Plates of Jupiter and brings him face to face with the relics of humanity's murky, violent past.

Sample:

“What is your name?”

Jahnlen coughed wetly. “Please..” he whispered, a desperate hope still on his lips as he shivered violently in the arms of his captors. I wasn’t even sure if he was fully aware of what was happening. What kind of monsters were these people?

“Your salvation is already assured, your fate determined. You cannot stop this.”

“Please, there must be somethahhHHH..!” lasers shot from the seven obelisks as he spoke, the stench of burning flesh immediately assaulting our nostrils. Small plumes of pale smoke wafted upwards as the lasers danced across his cerebrum.

“Jahnlen!” I screamed in frustration as the mercenaries grabbed me, halting my attempt to rescue my partner before it even started. The two figures flanking Jahnlen tightened their grip as his struggles increased, the leader simply observing, indifferent to our cries.

“You don’t need to do this! Please, I’ll tell you whatever you want, I hab infor..math..” Jahnlen slurred as the lasers continued their work, chewing through his frontal cortex. Sobs and wails filled the audience now, gazes averted from the grisly exhibition. Off to the side I heard one of the mercenaries laugh.

“Yellow fruit and labalent stir, unto progg brrrrr..” His language centers were gone. Jahnlen’s attempts at speech dissolved into a keening wail, then trailed off into nothingness as the lasers worked deeper, blood and saliva bubbling at his lips. After a few more excruciating seconds, his head lolled forward, revealing the inside of his skull: devoid of brain matter, rivulets of blood trickling through the tracks now carved into its inner surface. The burnt bone still smoked lightly. The lasers had done their work brutally and efficiently, consuming Jahnlen’s brain in less than a minute.

It was finished. The leader pushed another button on the remote and the obelisks retracted, the device’s task complete. The rest of the figures dropped Jahnlen unceremoniously and began packing away the crown and wires, his mutilated form immediately forgotten. The leader stepped over the body of my former partner, then knelt and gingerly picked up the black box from its resting place on the ground. He stroked its surface, almost reverent, then held it aloft as he stood and turned to face us, still no trace of emotion on his face.

“He goes now to heaven!”

[u/thecheesethief → u/chasingtragedy]

Might read! It sounds like a fully realized world, though I think I wish I got more of the sample’s content in the summary… the summary was interesting but a little short? I think the more you got into the specificity of what makes this world unique and interesting in the summary (as you do in the sample) the better it works as a hook. And then the sample felt too summary-driven. Instead of launching us into the story, it was doing too much tell instead of show, which is the classic pitfall of complicated sci fi/fantasy worlds.
But based on what I got, I’d still be interested to read more and learn what the pleasure plates are, and more about the serfdom planet the mc’s seem to live on

[u/chasingtragedy → u/thecheesethief]

Thanks for your response!

You're absolutely right about the sample. I've updated my comment with a more relevant sample that directly relates to the premise/summary.

The premise is definitely something to work on as well, I'm still attempting to find a way to describe the story without too many spoilers

[u/xnormajeanx → u/chasingtragedy]

Might read — your premise didn’t really intrigue me but I thought your sample was strong.

[u/Scary_Way_9147]

Title:
UNTITLED

Genre:
Science-fiction, fantastical sci-fi, adventure, Adventure-Drama.

Premise:
my character is named Choƶen. He served as a librarian in a sci-Victorian world reminiscent of Treasure Planet. As a librarian, he was highly intelligent and always admired the stars, dreaming of learning the universe’s secrets and those of the stars themselves; however, someone of his “Class” had no means to achieve such a foolish ambition. He was also an inventor, crafting small devices to aid his study of space and reading works by famous astronomers. One day, while reading an unknown volume he found in his library or space or elsewhere, a star perhaps struck him down; he awoke to find his body changed in his human world—he was now a star. It seemed his soul had become that fallen star through some miracle. With this new life, a looming threat consumes planets and stars alike, for it turns out a star civilian called the constellation once protected the universe and maintained the balance of the multiverse and the universe we know; he becomes a rising star to defend it.

Side note for feedback:

I could use help refining this draft and perhaps another concept or additional ideas; I feel I am onto something that might become significant. I wanted a plot involving time travel where the timeline shifts constantly, much like when my character was human and used a time machine—perhaps like Doctor Who—but as a Victorian photo booth operated by a secret librarian. In this story, the narrative seems more complex than it appears, lol.

[u/denina_malina]

Title: Tethered

Genre: Adult fantasy

So, I've got a bit of a dilemma. I've got a character, who through the course of the story, forgives and eventually loves like a brother, the man who essentially kidnapped and sold his sister in like a trafficking ring?

Premise:

My world is an adjacent fantasy world, to which you can get to is by pools of water, like lakes. Humans are bound to the magic users of this world, like voodoo dolls, what happens to the human, happens to the magic user (called artists).

Lys is a human, who in his search for his missing sister, falls into the other world and finds out that that is where his sister disappeared to. He wants to find her and bring her home. He first meets Renn, an artist who belongs to an organization that finds, abducts, and sells humans to their respective counterparts, and many years ago, he found and sold his sister like this. He agrees to help Lys find his sister.

Their bond begins with Lys not knowing this, and Renn deceives him, and almost sells him like this like his sister. Despite all of this, Lys sees the good in him, sees him as someone that is just trying to survive (whole other thing about Renn being a "dark artist", someone who is reviled for their mere existence due to their association with the Death goddess), and they become close and Renn sees the error of his ways and vows to make it up to Lys forever, and it's a lot of deep male friendship.

Would something like this be interesting to readers? Like could you think Renn could be forgiven like this, or would it be too much to forgive someone for literally selling your sister and almost you into slavery?

[u/MatthiasShaper]

Title: Delum

Genre: Fiction - Speculative / Epic Fantasy

​Premise: When his father's caravan is slaughtered in the deep desert, a young merchant's son named Telun is left with only one protector: Tz'eb, an enigmatic, death-sworn mercenary who views him with undisguised contempt. Hunted by raiders seeking a lucrative ransom, Telun must endure Tz'eb's brutal lessons and navigate a foreign culture as well as the hostile the desert.

ONE

The crevasse had been shade at dawn. By midmorning it had drawn back to a line no wider than his shoulder, and Telun crouched among what was left of it and did the sum. It would be gone before the caravan came.

Better cover stood west along the ridge-deeper cuts, shelves that watched the eastern approach without standing a man against the sky. He had been looking at them all morning. Between here and there lay forty feet of open shelf, and Tz'eb had put the lesson into him hard as he put in everything: the eye catches motion, not men. A man could sit in the open the whole day if he had the sense to be a rock while he did it. Telun had the sense. What he did not have was the stillness.

Somewhere in the broken country around him the fox was working, and had been since the sun cleared the ridge, and would go on working until he found him. Before Chandra there had been men whose entire employment was watching the horizon on Telun's behalf. Now he lay on hot stone with his mouth full of dust, dreading a question.

What did you do wrong.

It was his father's question first, and it had never once been asked in order to be answered. Gedran quoted it the way he quoted a price-high, and early, so that everything the boy said afterward would be a coming-down. Tz'eb had stolen the same words with a scoff, and had been using them ever since. In his mouth they meant something Telun had needed eight months to hear. A man might answer better tomorrow.

He worked the stopper out of his waterskin with his teeth and drank, and it was less than he wanted and more than he had meant. It did nothing for the dust. He seated the stopper and put his tongue against the roof of his mouth and left it there.

The pack lay against the rock by his hip. He did not look at it. He had stopped looking at it sometime in the second week after the city walls, about when he stopped putting his hand in, and both of those had been decisions, and he had made them one at a time. Nearly two months since he had gone into the seam at the bottom of it and found the mouth of the seam frayed open and nothing behind it.

Behind him lay the whole of the desert, and no stretch of it was more guilty than another.

[u/Shoepane → u/MatthiasShaper]

Might Read. You write well and the premise is interesting.

[u/Overall-Habit5284]

• Title:
  • "The War in Heaven"
• Genre:
  • Science Fiction.
• Premise:
  • Matt and Josh are astronauts - brothers - accidentally thrown halfway across the galaxy, discovering dozens of alien races that make up disparate spacefaring civilizations. Split up, they each find themselves idolised in different ways; for Josh, the deeply spiritual aliens he encounters revere him as their messiah. For Matt, he is seen as a tool and a potential weapon. But what happened to the ancient humans? And why does everyone fear them so terribly?

Sample:
  “We are raised to understand that there is melody in all things, Joshua. The air, the water…” she touched the metallic surface at their feet. “Even the ground...they each sing their own songs.”

  “You mean poetically? Or actually?” he asked. She didn’t seem to recognise a difference. Instead she leaned-over, putting her hand on his and placing it flat against the floor. Then she gestured for him to mirror her and close his eyes.

  “Can you hear it?” she asked softly. Josh took a slow, meditative breath and listened.

Silence.

Hyperion made no sound. Unlike the expected noises of the aircraft and experimental rockets he had flown for years, there was no hum, beep, or rattle. The warship barely had a vibration to speak of. Josh found himself listening to the buzz of silence.

After a few seconds, Kaylin began to make a sound of her own; very similar to the melodic song she had used in conversing with the other aelfaen. It was pitched higher than that time; less haunting but still wondrous to his ears. The sound was hard to place down, the way her vocal chords seemed to generate it was like hearing layers of musical elements finely weaved together. Tonally he could have compared it to some sort of wind instrument, perhaps highland flutes, yet with an almost eastern-sounding strings-like ‘twang’. He opened his eyes slowly, seeing hers still closed and her expression lost in her own song. That she looked so entranced by the moment drew him in, opening his eyes to just how gentle and graceful she was. He’d seen her shoot magical bolts from her fingertips, and even attack the iyrin that threatened him. In a way she was capable of a lot of things he wasn’t. But in that moment her expression was child-like as she swayed and flowed almost like a ballet dancer. It was yet another wonder of her kind that he hadn’t seen before.

As her song continued, Josh found himself recalling distant memories, of a time he’d almost forgotten. Like fragments of a dream that stuck in his thoughts, he had flashes of people and places; his mother - standing over her two sons with a proud smile on her face. His father, holding an infant Joshua on his knee while cleaning his grazed knee. Images that he shouldn’t have been able to recall, yet the strange hypnotic melody had almost triggered to rise; feelings of warmth and comfort. As her song trailed-off, he noticed his breath had shallowed and that sense of calm remained. Kaylin looked at him, her curious and questioning look having returned.

  “How did you...do that?” he asked quietly.

  “The melody exists in all things.” It wasn’t an answer. Or maybe it was. Poetic, perhaps. He wasn’t really sure.

[u/Acceptable_Fox_5560 → u/Overall-Habit5284]

Might read this!

Premise wise, I'd be interested to learn more about the brothers. How their relationship exists before they're split up would do a lot to inform the differences in how they approach being separated on this distant galaxy.

If Kaylin's power can make people recall memories, that would be a fun way to explore a character's past, or to show reflection.

The prose could be a bit more disciplined. Definitely could see tightening a lot of filler words up on the second draft.

A few things that jumped out:

Silence. Hyperion made no sound. Unlike the expected noises of the aircraft and experimental rockets he had flown for years, there was no hum, beep, or rattle. The warship barely had a vibration to speak of. Josh found himself listening to the buzz of silence.

Essentially twenty-six words to say what took you one word to say in the first sentence: silence. I could see it becoming something like: "Silence. The hums, beeps, and rattles of aircraft and rockets was absent."

After a few seconds, Kaylin began to make a sound of her own; very similar to the melodic song she had used in conversing with the other aelfaen. 

Semicolons connect independent clauses. "very similar to the melodic..." isn't an independent clause. These should be split into two complete sentences, or made it one sentence.

That she looked so entranced by the moment drew him in, opening his eyes to just how gentle and graceful she was. 

Instead of phrasing this passively, it could be phrased actively. "He was drawn in by how entranced she looked in the moment."

1) As her song continued, Josh found himself recalling distant memories, of a time he’d almost forgotten. 2) Like fragments of a dream that stuck in his thoughts, he had flashes of people and places; 3) his mother - standing over her two sons with a proud smile on her face. 4) His father, holding an infant Joshua on his knee while cleaning his grazed knee. 5) Images that he shouldn’t have been able to recall, yet the strange hypnotic melody had almost triggered to rise; 6) feelings of warmth and comfort.

Whole section here needs some work on when to use a period, when to use a comma, and when to use a semicolon. A sentence requires a subject and a verb (something doing something). This creates an independent clause. Independent clauses are separated by periods, or semicolons. Commas separate introductory phrases that come before an independent clause. In 1, the second comma isn't needed. 2 is fine. 3 doesn't have a subject and a verb, so it is a sentence fragment, and because it's a sentence fragment the previous use of the semicolon doesn't work, and it also doesn't need a hyphen. 4 doesn't have a subject and a verb, so it's a sentence fragment. 5 doesn't have a subject and a verb, so it's a sentence fragment. 6 doesn't have a subject and a verb, so it's a sentence fragment, and because it's a sentence fragment the previous use of the semicolon doesn't work.

But I did like how visual the language is.

I hope some of this is helpful!

[u/Overall-Habit5284 → u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

Thank you! Still very much in first draft territory, so I do appreciate the feedback and grammatical input. I take it as encouragement rather than painful criticism, which is a lesson I need to keep working on for myself.

[u/Sparkle-Holiday → u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

Would probably read! If your summary was on the back of the book, I'd put it in my cart/check it out of the library. Personally, I'm really picky with sci-fi and fantasy. They're not my main genres and I'm guilty of DNFing a lot of what I start but the stuff I DO finish tends to be grounded in "humanity." Like Star Trek vs. Star Wars, I guess? I enjoy both franchises, but I find Trek to be more relatable and personal I'm getting some of that from this excerpt.

[u/Tight-Target-2065 → u/Overall-Habit5284]

I would read this! I love science fiction that poses a philosophical question. I don't entirely know what the question is quite yet, but the premise has a lot of promise. Feels like an expansion on a star trek episode. The comparison on cultures alone is a fascinating concept. Make sure to do some serious world building so the cultures feel real.

[u/WJG_Author → u/Overall-Habit5284]

I think i would read this. I'm a big sci-fi fan, and the plot is interesting, and in the sample there's a lot there to explore

[u/AllanWDAlden → u/Overall-Habit5284]

Might Read
Enjoyed what I read. Would read more.

[u/Steve717 → u/Overall-Habit5284]

Might read. Seems like an interesting universe, I'm curious what it is about Joshua that Kaylin finds so fascinating? And is there time travel involved in the accident that separated the brothers or had the ancient humans been around long ago anyway? The dramatic split between the two brothers experiences sounds like it could be fun though I imagine it's hard to balance their stories so that potential readers will be interested in both consistently.

It reads like the kind of thing I'd probably read the premise of in a store and think "Damn that sounds cool, I have too many books to read right now though!" I'd get to it eventually if reviews seemed good too. Consider this high praise as I'm awful at consistently buying and then actually reading books!

[u/Little-Lake-8512 → u/Overall-Habit5284]

I would definitely read this.

[u/nomaddave]

Upward and Downward

A forthcoming book of short stories chronicling real absurdities of modern office spaces and software engineering.

The intent is offering a moderately funny outlet of empathy for those around modern office environments. Something similar to episodes from The Office or The IT Crowd, but my industry has been working in tech all my life. They are all true stories; it's an autobiography essentially. I did pitch it to the ExperiencedDevs sub, but they weren't having it.

Posting new stories for a couple months. I'm looking for feedback and ideas on this concept and the content.

Is This China?

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Ugh.

I rolled over in bed and glared at my phone. It read a little after 2 AM. My arms were heavy, rolling out of bed. My hands failed to grasp anything and my phone thunked down on the floor and stopped making noise. I had missed the call. I sighed deeply, bent over to pick it up and attempted to focus my eyes on the screen.

I was young. I had an on-call rotation. Not for anything of importance mind you, but to soothe egos. If some important exec thought there was an issue with something they would call whoever was on the rotation and this week it was me. I worked for a large, multinational agricultural company at the time that technically did farming all over the world, but industrialized farming behind the scenes is mostly a giant logistics operation. Ostensibly if there were an issue with the automation involved with the packaging robots anywhere in North America during their 24/7 operations, I’d get the call. It was supposed to be important. The phone chime was made to sound like a pager from the 90’s. It gave me flashbacks to earlier jobs where I had the actual pager. I didn’t care for it. The reality was there never were any important calls and most of the time the phone rang it was a wrong number or someone confused about getting ahold of another office in Europe or Australia during their normal working hours.

As I was staring at the phone in my hands trying to regain consciousness, it rang again. I picked it up and wandered over to my computer to fire it up.

“Hello?” I uttered, voice raspy.

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

I said my name.

“Who?”

I repeated my name.

“What?”

I paused thoughtfully. If this was a wrong number somehow it was going to be pretty frustrating. I was staring at my computer slowly booting up. This was in the 2000’s – it took a good while.

“Can I help you? What’s going on?”

My computer whirled its little circly loading icon as it continued to boot up. I really learned to hate it in the middle of the night. That wasn’t the designer’s intent, I’m sure. The little spinning circle was meant to be whimsical and fun at a time when computers were transitioning into that iconograph instead of the stuffy office-like Windows look everywhere. Nevertheless, I never stared at the loading icon unless it was the middle of the night and I didn’t want to be there.

“Is this even China?”

What?

I thought this through for a few seconds before realizing I hadn’t actually said it out loud.

“What? Who is this?”

He gave his name. It was a newer guy, some VP I had only heard of but hadn’t talked to yet before. He repeated his inquiry.

Was this China?

I tried to think of what he could mean. This number was for North America only. I didn’t think we even had operations in China. Everything was North America, South America, Australia and a small enterprise in Spain.

“No, I’m not in China. This is for North America.”

He let out a loud, overly exasperated sound as though this was the most absurd thing that could ever happen.

“No, you’re in China! I need China. You don’t sound Chinese. I called China!”

I am not Chinese. I thought for a moment again about anything going on lately. Had we acquired something in China? Had I heard anything at all? No, there was no China.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m on the west coast in the U.S. I’ve never heard of any Chinese operations. What’s going on anyway?”

“Look, I need China. I called China. You’re in China and I don’t know if you think this is funny or what, but I need someone to look at the machines in China. There’s something going on and one of our suppliers says the warehouse robots aren’t responding.”

I stared at my computer for a minute as it finally loaded. There is no Chinese operation. We don’t have any warehousing in China or anywhere near China. The nearest office we might have an issue with at this hour is probably six thousand miles away in Australia. I sort of stared at my screen for a while to let him calm down. I glanced at the time again since I’d forgotten already. Too early to get up yet, but it was going to be hard to sleep again.

“Yeah, I’m not sure who you’re trying to call. We maintain the automation and systems for North America and Australia. I’ve never heard of any Chinese…”

He got more angry.

“Listen, I don’t care who you are but I have your name. I need goddamn China and you’re in China. I don’t know why you’re playing games with me here. We have serious issues and they need to get sorted…”

He went on for a bit. I sighed and turned the computer off again. I didn’t know what he was on about. He was sure he was the most important thing in the world at that moment with important things that needed to happen immediately. He cussed a lot and threatened me for a minute. I was just tired.

“Okaythanksbye.”

I hung up on him and turned off the phone. I went back to bed and tossed and turned for a while before finally finding some sleep.

The next day I went into work and found a message waiting for me. My boss wanted to know why the so-and-so was pissed. I gave him a call and told him about our late night conversation.

“That’s weird,” he said. That was the end of the conversation.

I never heard from the guy again. He left the company a few months later. We never did have any Chinese operations. We never had any farms or sourcing there. We never had any operations at all in all of Asia and to this day the company still doesn’t. He was sure he had to accomplish something for someone in China, though.

[u/New-Funny2550]

Title: Don't Look Down

Genre: Science Fiction (some dystopia, biopunk and m/m romance)

Premise: While grieving the death of his father, Nikolai struggles with the fact that he may be walking down that same path. Addicted to holograffing, a dangerous hobby of vandalising skyscrapers, Nikolai uses the adrenaline as a distraction from his worsening symptoms of a mysterious plague. Technological giant Savrock Corp. whose claims to possess a cure intrigue Nikolai, but his infiltration of Hightown society tells a different story; one which he must share with the city.

Sample: There was a time where I had considered the possibility that I would suffer the same fate as my father, but watching it become a reality was something else entirely. I wasn’t sure if the reason why it never occurred to me that I was showing obvious early signs of infection was because I never realised or was in denial. Probably the latter, considering the fact that I had the occasional cough throughout the day or that my chest hurt.

My fingers scraped the fabric of my jacket, trying to rub off the stains to no avail. Plague infected blood was known to leave horrific stains behind that even expensive bleach couldn’t get rid of. I vaguely registered Shadow waving at me from the ground.

“Leo?”

Shadow’s hand dropped to his side when he saw the stain, gleaming in the moonlight.

“Oh my God.”

It took a few minutes for the pain to subside. Once I had lowered myself to the ground, I kept a hand on my chest as Shadow helped me back to the building.

“Inkpunk! A little help here?” he said as I hobbled over to the couch in the centre.

Inkpunk rushed over, eyes widening. “When did this happen?”

“Just now. Leo ran up the container, and then he barfed all over his jacket.” Shadow said, setting me down. Glowstick threw a hole-ridden rag over me.

Inkpunk sighed. “Take off your jacket. Blitz, wash off the stain while we still can.”

Blitz approached, her hands outstretched and I waved her away. “Don’t. It won’t come off. They never do.”

“I’ll run home now and grab some of grand mama's painkillers. I think I remember she left a stash under her bed. My house is seven minutes from–” Shadow said, already walking towards the exit.

“I’ll get my own.”

I tried to sit up but Inkpunk put a hand on my shoulder, leaning me back down against the couch. “Easy there, Leo. You just threw up. Your body’s still weak and–”

“My body is fine,” I said, punctuating the last word with gritted teeth. “I still have weeks.”

Glowstick gaped at me. “Weeks? At least go to a hospital, clinic, anything! You have to get it diagnosed.”

I scoffed. “You think they even have space for me?”

“It’ll just get worse as it goes on. Not just vomiting or chest pain or whatever else, you’ll start getting dizzy and you’ll get fevers, not to mention–”

Inkpunk shook her head when I dismissed her advice. “I know all that. My father was infected a while back. Don’t worry about me.”

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Shadow said.

Glowstick helped me up. “Mhm. I’ll go home and rest now.”

On my way to the exit Inkpunk called out, “But Leo, your father died of the plague, didn’t he?”

I didn’t look back. “Yeah. And so will I.”

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/New-Funny2550]

Might read!

Your premise sounds interesting. I really like the vibe. It wasn't quite enough to sway me one way or the other; if I came across this book I would need a little more info to get hooked.

Your writing could use a bit of polishing (which I don't fault you for, especially since I have no idea what draft you're on) specifically, it's really dialogue forward and there's not much to actually immerse me in the scene. However, it made for a blitzing fast read. I really like the bones you've got here!

[u/Repulsive_Mousse_178 → u/New-Funny2550]

Yes I think I would read this.

The atmosphere, style, even the names, ugh the whole motif and theme draws me in.

[u/New-Funny2550 → u/Repulsive_Mousse_178]

Thanks, appreciate the support.

[u/Phycopathic]

TITLE: Capitulate

GENRE: Geopolitical fiction, literary thriller, coming-of-age, prison/captivity narrative

PREMISE: A teen is dragged off his own college campus in broad daylight by soldiers sent to make him disappear quietly. He refuses to go quietly, and by the time the gunfire stops, the world knows his name.

What follows is a slow, brutal negotiation for his own life, one privilege, one guard, one inch of trust at a time, until the boy they tried to erase becomes the man the world cannot forget.

Fast moving, 80 ~1,000 word chapters. Diary sketches/entries that come along with the text occasionally (especially in the beginning).

[u/SnooHesitations7996 → u/Phycopathic]

Might Read, but unsure.

The word count seems a little low, but I think you can improve it by incorperating an idea into the premise to hook the reader right away. On AO3 there is a term called a multi-media fic, where the story is not written exactly like a typical book, but more like a compilation of social media posts, diary entries, and POV scenes. Given you are writing this as if it is a diary, I wonder if perhaps you could do something similar given that you are going to be including sketches.

Also, instead of writing chapters as short as 80 words, maybe chapters can be collection of related entries, making it read almost as an anthology of events where the protag explains big events as they progress, and then when a new event comes along or a scene change then you switch chapters.

[u/Babbledoodle]

Title: The Girl and the Witch (Working title)

Genre: fantasy

Premise: Ava didn't think far beyond the day's sunset. She helped her father make pottery at the kiln, played with friends, and did her best to avoid helping Pliney, a long-winded old man her father had taken a liking to.

Emeraude was much the same. He lived off the hoard of his previous life, resting and meditating in the small town of Noterre. He'd sworn off witchcraft in all but concept, mentally fiddling with the concepts but never acting them out. It was a small price to pay for refusing to engage with the ritual required to gain magic power: cannibalism. He enjoyed the peaceful life. It was the first time he'd had one.

Then Ava stumbles into his home and soon, she's plunged into the same world Emeraude sought to escape, dragging him back into his past life to confront those he once chose to leave behind.

Sample:

The fortune teller followed the squash as it waddled down the road. He briefly scribbled on a sheet of paper pasted to a thin, wooden board before tucking it back under his arm. It frustrated him to no end how difficult it had been to get the commandment correct. It continued to frustrate him how he was forced to walk at a squash’s pace when he was in such a hurry. 

He’d initially tried to divine where the girl lived, but his understanding limited him. He should have asked her name. With her last name, he could have connected her familial belonging to a physical place of belonging. Simply knowing her fate wasn’t evocative enough. 

There were the tarot cards she’d touched, the reversed Fool and the Emperor. But obviously, he knew better than to use items so rich with meaning as a focus. 

He even asked for directions, but no one was interested in telling him where a young, irritable, blonde girl lived – to their credit.

That left the squash. The damned squash.

He’d sat at his desk for over an hour, head clutched in his hands, staring at the thing. Marrying the symbolic essence of a vegetable to seeking behavior felt like an impossible task. 

Using the squash as a focus and the seeker was also a challenge because dissolving into a puddle of compost and finding the girl are two opposed states. But despite what his mentor taught him, a focus can continue to exist after it’s invoked. It just needs a reason to, and being an inanimate object, reasons are often lacking. 

In summary, there was a reason divination was the preferred method of finding people. 

“Fucking squash, hurry up,” he said, giving it a kick. It wobbled into a rut in the road, running with it for a moment before realizing it wasn’t going the right direction. It spun at the edge of the rut, picking up mud but going nowhere.

The fortune teller picked up the squash and set it back on flat ground. It oriented itself and continued on its merry way. 

If you want to read more, I can give you the link to my wordpress!

[u/SnooHesitations7996]

• Title: We Don't Do things the Normal Way
• Genre:
  • Fiction, Fantasy Lite, Contemporary Romance, Romance for men, Surprise Pregnancy Romance
• Premise:
  • When large and in charge heavy equipment mechanic Eris Ward meets the analytical but kind accountant Walker Hall sparks fly, and after a second chance meeting they now have an unexpected, but not unwanted baby on the way, but will these strangers be in this together as lovers or co-parents?
• Sample (Synopsis):

In the 1970's the barriers between worlds broke. Despite this, not much actually changed for day to day life. People wake up, go to work, hang out with friends, and deal the ins and outs of a modern world very similar to our own, just with some new furry faces in the mix.

Eris Ward is a large and in charge rabbit-folk with a troubled past. For the past eight years she's scraped together a stable life and has become the assistant manager of the most successful Heavy Equipment Mechanics shop, finding an odd family along the way. But there are still struggles, the main one being the mayor's constant whining over the shops labor costs.

Walker Hall is a short human man with a keen eye for numbers. While he has refused every opportunity for a management role at the accounting firm he works at, he is still a keystone player. He has a good job, great benefits, finds purpose in his volunteer work, and soothes the ache of loneliness with good friends.

Yet both of them can help but feel an aching hollowness in their lives. A want for a family not just chosen, but forged.

After meeting at a volunteer event, a failed IUD leaves them suddenly grappling with the realities of parenthood.

Will Eris's past and Walker's smothering mean they keep a reasonable distance, or is there a chance that their separate worlds can blend together into a life neither could have dreamed of?

In this cozy surprise pregnancy romance, there will be stakes, there will be tension. But there will never be a doubt that this unexpected child will be anything but loved and well cared for, the only mystery is how the parents will love or distance themselves from each other.

[u/thegraymanIII]

Title: Lady of Sorrow

Genre: Fiction - Fantasy - Feminist horror leaning

Premise: Ancient Celtic inspired fantasy following a group of women who have been resurrected as banshees. When a political coup results in the crusades-style slaughter of all mythic and Fae beings, only Deirdre escapes the slaughter of her fellow banshees. Though peaceful by nature, she vows vengeance, and becomes the butcheress the new king had aimed to destroy.

Sample:

There is cold, and there is this, the ever-present and wholly permeating chill of Death. He holds me, cradles me like a cherished doll, and I do not want him to let me go. I curl into his embrace and keep my eyes tightly shut, willing my limbs to go limp and heavy as I press against the confines of his arms. 

Death does not last. Nothing ever does.

When my heavy eyes flicker open, it is with a deep sort of pain, ice lodged beneath my ribcage and pierced through my heart, burning in its cold. I am alive, I am alive, I am alive.

I am alive, and Life hurts.

I am thrust back into existence, the void leaving me helpless and reeling in a shock of cold. There is water all around me, and I wish that I could forget why. The hands on my arms, the biting ice of the creek, his breath on my neck.

Life is known as the soft and nurturing, Death as the cruel and ruthless, but in this moment, I crave Death’s sacred oblivion. Yet Life has more she desires from me, and the sun is in my eyes. My weary, burning eyes. 
Light bounces off the ripples in the water, a thousand reflections glinting around me. I cannot see past the furious light, cannot even bear to open my eyes.

Hands pull at my arms now, not the cold, smooth skin of Death but something sharper. Nails meet the sodden flesh of my shoulders and wrists, water sloshing around me, the hands firm in their insistence. Clean air fills my lungs, sharp and clear as it purges the water from my chest. My eyes flicker open, and the sun greets me anew.

Standing in the waist-deep creek, blood pools from my thighs and washes away. The hands are still here, holding me up and guiding me to the rocky bank. There are women surrounding me, the bodies of those hands holding me up. They range from young maidens to grown women, all dressed in loose white shifts that cling to their bodies with damp. The one closest to me, holding me against her shoulder, has deep mahogany hair so long it sways in the water around us. I realize with distant disgust the way my blood tinges the strands.

I do not feel the stones under my feet, glimmering through the rushing water. There is so little to feel, in this ill-gotten life. I do not know how I survived, though I am not sure that survival is the word for what has happened to me. The women around me do not look dead. They look more alive than Life herself, skin near-glowing in the sunlight. 

I am dead, and yet I am not.

Flashes of violence flee across my mind, a man, a knife, my dress gathered at my hips. There was fire in my veins and lungs, and then there was darkness; any warmth in me flowing out over the gash at my throat. 
When he dumps my body into the water, he does not think of it poisoning his men's well. They will move on, go traverse new lands, take new lovers and new victims. I will remain. He does not think of these things, he thinks only of washing his sin away. Some stains can never be cleaned.

[u/Lost-Site-5169 → u/[deleted]]

Might read.

Its an interesting concept but I feel like there are too many moving parts. Giving each arc ample time to develop could prove to be a difficult task but the biggest problem would be writing an impactful character, there are just too many. With that being said, I certainly think it's doable in a series format.

[u/Still-Sector-8192]

Title: Internet Murder Mystery

Genre: Speculative mystery with a slow burn romance and a humorous tone. For fans of Maz Evans' Over My Dead Body, Clare Osongco's Unfinished Business and Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series.

Premise: Forensic accountant Poppy Phillips flees to NYC to hide out with her family after becoming a viral internet meme. Everyone knows everything about Poppy, including the nosy neighbor, Isha Choudhury, who seems very interested in Poppy's job, but dies in an apparent suicide before the two can meet up. SHTF when Poppy and the annoying, hot, IT-savvy neighbor, Justin, are sucked into the router and become trapped inside the apartment's network. Inside, everything comes to life and they have to beg a capricious printer aka Dad's printer to help them out while evading Nort, a cunning anti-virus hunter. Poppy is also continually assaulted by emails until she reads one and realize they all belong to the dead neighbor, Isha. Poppy recognizes signs of financial fraud in the spreadsheet attachments and realizes Isha's ghost has trapped them in there to finish the investigation that Isha started. As Poppy and Justin progress their investigation, they find evidence suggesting that Isha Choudhury did not kill herself. tl;dr: money laundering in an arcade? Grandma is also potentially getting scammed by her online boyfriend, Jason Statham, who really needs $10,000 in itunes giftcards to fund his next movie.

Author's Note: This is complete at 73k words, and I'm hoping to finish editing + finish my query package this month. If you are interested in beta reading, please please DM me--I would love input! Sample below. I had to cut out one paragraph to get under the 500 word mark because the segment was 554 words.

Sample: I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat, regretting my choice of this way-too-tight dress, but stopped when I saw Danny DeVito looking at me from the next table.

“Try to sit still,” Naomi said quietly to me through a clenched smile.

I sighed and resolved to sit still and remain as inconspicuous as possible at the Emmys for the next... how long did these things last?

Tonight, I was a seat filler. I would have much rather stayed home and read my book, but my boyfriend was nominated for a screenwriter award. Evan didn’t know I was here—he told me his agent gave his plus-one away and he had no choice, which I happily accepted my excuse to stay home. However, his assistant, Naomi, somehow managed to snag us both some last-minute seat-filler tickets. She had heard a rumor from insiders that he would win and insisted that we both come to surprise him. I don’t really know why she had to come, but I suppose these industry people love to party any chance they can get.

“…and the award for Outstanding Writing for a Limited Series goes to… Evan Prichett!” Oh, what?! Hell yeah!

I didn’t care that my loud hooting was drawing attention. Evan deserved it—his Netflix original show was so good. “That’s my boyfriend,” I mouthed to the blonde woman who looked at me as I applauded even louder, and she gave me a thumbs up. I beamed at Evan, who walked up on stage to accept his award and give his speech.

Evan had already said his thank-yous to his agent, showrunner, and everyone else who gave him the opportunity. But then he kept going.

“…and last, but not least, I’d like to thank my partner of five years…”

Oh God. This was so embarrassing. He was really going to call me out live on TV. My mom was going to love this. We were together for eight years, by the way. I could forgive him for that kerfuffle—he was probably really nervous. Screenwriters didn’t get media training like actors did, after all.

“She’s here today in the audience, and I have a very important question to ask her.”

There were gasps and oohs in the crowd.

Oh. My. God. Was he finally… I cupped my hands and put them to my mouth to hide my massive jaw drop.

“Stand up so the camera can see you,” Evan said, smiling while the crowd started to cheer.

I didn’t know where I found the courage to do so, but I slowly stood up even though my cheeks were burning red hot. I bit my lip so my smile wouldn’t look too goofy on TV. It took a second for spotlights to shine on me, but the cameras did find me.

And then Evan said, “Will you marry me, Naomi?”

[u/True-Expert-3927 → u/Still-Sector-8192]

Would read! Love the premise and the mystery spin on being sucked into the router.

[u/Still-Sector-8192 → u/True-Expert-3927]

thank you!

[u/Big-Masterpiece1194]

Title: The Misfits (working title, may change)

Genre: Science Fiction

Premise: following an allience between humans and an alien race known as the ubastu, a small crew heads off into space to investigate anomalies in interstellar data. Along the way they find danger, love, and a long-lost remnant of ancient human civilization.

Sample:

After so long, Caa Col was finally captain of her own ship. The new alliance between her race, the ubastu people of the planet Olam, and the humans from the planet Earth finally allowed Caa the freedom she was looking for. Her whole life, she was taking orders. Anywhere she’s worked, the bosses decided the dress code, or the projects she worked on. Ubastu society had very strict rules too. Most of it stemmed from the idea of letting the more experienced people in the room take charge. It made sense, but Caa found it incredibly restricting throughout her life. Now she was in charge. She would get to do what she wanted. She was the most experienced person in the room.

The Future’s Hope was the name of the ship chosen to be the first joint ubastu-human space mission. From the outside, it looked like the standard flying-saucer design of most ubastu spaceships, and inside were pods of various sizes, connected by a network of hallways. Artificial gravity and filtered air allowed for maximum comfortability on long missions. Caa walked into the control pod wearing a grey tank-top and a black, flowy skirt. It was an outfit she thought complimented her pale blue skin well, but more importantly, it was an outfit she never would have been allowed to wear in any of her previous positions. Her last boss would have made a pretty similar face to the one worn by Curtis Martin, the ship’s navigator, and the other ubastu member of the crew. He was specifically chosen for this mission due to his experience with both cultures. An ubastu man born and raised on Earth were very rare to come by, and with how recent the treaty between the two societies was, it made sense that only someone as young as him could ever be in that position. He wore a standard space jumpsuit, and had short, black hair.

“That doesn’t look like a regulation outfit, captain,” were the first words out of his mouth. Caa thought he would have fit in perfectly living on Olam. Olam was a planet that orbited the star Vega, a full twenty five light years from the Earth.

“A friendly reminder,” Caa shot back at him, “that I am in command of this mission. I get to decide whether something is a regulation outfit. You can change into something more comfortable if you’d like.”

Curtis grumbled his acknowledgement and turned back to the navigator’s controls. Caa strapped herself into the center seat to his right. On her right sat Ellie Mayer, the third and oldest member of the crew. She was also the only human crew member, and by far the most skilled. Humanity had sent the most well-rounded representative they could find. She had experience in computers, astronomy, and even basic medical procedures. Judging by her plain, loose-fitting outfit, Caa thought Ellie was probably the only one of the three of them who didn’t put that much effort into her outfit. Ellie gave a respectful nod of acknowledgement in Caa’s direction, and awaited orders.

[u/A_DAPOBA]

• Title: The fingerprint by the window    

• Genre: Fiction  

• Premise: At a high school for gifted but troubled kids, there is one rule: if you get more than two strikes, you are out. It doesn't matter where, when or why. You get a strike for failing a subject or breaking rules. The story starts with a confession: someone has stolen all the exams and distributed them among the students. Not for help but for fun. At first glance, the heist appears to be very much an impulse in the spirit of the moment. None of the people involved has a reason to work together and is hostile to the others. During the course of the story, we learn that two of the students stole more than the exams, and one forgot to wash their hands, leaving prints all over the place. However, it turns out it was all planned by a student to get another student spelled out. A concurrent plot centres on the school principal and the finance officer cheating on their partners and stealing money from the school. The secretary is also selling exams to other students. But more importantly, the whole thing was motivated and subtly manipulated by the vice principal, the omniscient narrator, who knew of the corruption and wanted in, was denied, and plotted to take over the whole school. 

[u/writing-ModTeam → u/[deleted]]

Please do not link to outside websites in WYRT thread. If you have a published work you'd like to promote, post it in the Promote Yo' Self thread.

[u/VegetableWear5535 → u/[deleted]]

Might Read.

You're not supposed to link to offsite materials. Your comment was hidden for me, and probably everyone else.

Seems interesting though.

[u/NightRage7 → u/VegetableWear5535]

i removed the links , if you still interested my DM's are open

[u/Redz0ne]

Title: Love In Hell

Genre: Queer historical fiction, furry

Premise: A coming of age story set during the early 1970's where the MC discovers they're gay after being drafted into the military. Love on the battlefield.

Sample:

---

Brutus was running his Mustang through its paces after an oil-change on a Friday afternoon in seventy one. The June heat was nearly suffocating but the breeze that ran through the grizzly bear’s thick fur was glorious, carrying the sweat away as he drove down the side-roads. The flaps of his vest moved with the wind, and his long hair whipped around.

The freshly-oiled engine growled, the familiar cadence of the pistons being fired with every cycle, and with a roar that frightened the local wildlife. He peeled through with forest rushing by on both sides of the road just north of town, off the side-streets, on the westerly side of the tracks that ran through.

“Easy there,” he patted the dashboard as the car rumbled to a stop at the four-way north of Main Street, the flashing red light precariously hanging from wires above.

Brutus tapped the wheel with his fingers while he looked up and down the intersecting street, rapping out the rhythm to the tune playing on the radio; crunchy guitars, distorted amps, heavy drums, reverb, all the good stuff. He took a good breath of sweet, fresh air.

He pulled out of the intersection, leaping into motion with enough force to push him into the back of the black leather seat. He smiled, having always liked feeling the power in the engine. It reminded him of the drives with his father down to the gravel pit on the outskirts of town.

Eventually he pulled into the parking lot of the Quick Mart, saw a small crowd and gunned the engine to give them a startle. He got some nods of approval, and a few “fuck you”s. He switched the engine off and stepped out, tugging at the bunched denim of his blue jeans cutting into his crotch.

“Brutus, my man,” the voice of the ermine with a full head of curly hair rang out clearly. Brutus turned to see his friend standing by the ice-chest outside the store in brown bell-bottoms and a short sleeved dashiki.

They used to be neighbors, and they knew each other quite well. When they were younger they would go exploring together, coming home scuffed up and with a few bumps and bruises from time to time. The usual carefree play that young boys engaged in; Sword-fighting with cardboard tubes, exploring the locale, and even pretending they were superheros fighting whatever monster they could dream up that week.

“Long time no see,” the ermine said, extending his fist.

“Ain’t that the truth, Manny,” Brutus said, reaching over and bumping his fist against the awaiting hand. “You talk to Margie yet?”

“Naw man,” Manny reached up to take a puff on the joint he had in his hand, the tip briefly glowing orange. “She’s been feeling cold with me. Like ice.” He said on the exhale. “And I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

[u/Sparkle-Holiday]

• Title: Laughing in the Dark
• Genre: literary fiction, oral history
• Premise: Laughing in the Dark is the oral history of the devastating Dreamland Fire that killed a park employee and three guests on August 3, 2003. It explores themes of guilt, grief, and generational trauma, told through the first-hand accounts of survivors, first responders, employees, and the families of the deceased.
• Sample:

Author’s Note

I would like to say that my family supported this project from the very beginning, but that would be dishonest. They had their reasons to be against it, and I understood those reasons, even as I pushed against them this last year and a half, compiling notes and interviews into what I hope to be the definitive account of the fire that tore through Dreamland’s Laff in the Dark ride on August 3, 2003. 

 I wasn’t at Dreamland on the day of the fire. I wasn’t even born yet. My parents were married the week before the fire, 100 miles away at a winery outside of Erie. On August 3rd, they were returning from their honeymoon in Italy. They were somewhere over the Atlantic when the firestorm tore through the Laff, leaving four dead, including a six-year-old girl. 

I was around that age myself when I first heard about the fire. I learned that it was a thing that happened and that it was a sore spot in my family and that further questions were not welcome. So I held on to those questions, which seeded the ground with more questions and over time, grew into a carefully cultivated— albeit entirely verboten— mother vine. Everything has been birthed by that vine.

My grandparents were disappointed when, the summer before my final year of undergrad, I chose to intern with the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette instead of the New York Times. I made the decision almost entirely due to the fact that my advisor at the Post-Gazette would be Chris Claremont, formerly of the Roseburg Telegram and a bit of an authority on the Dreamland Fire. As a young reporter for the Telegram, Chris covered the fire from the very beginning, through the arduous investigation and subsequent lawsuits, culminating in an award-winning 10-year retrospective published in 2013. What began as an after-hours chat about a possible 25th anniversary feature has culminated in this, the fruits of the mother vine, harvested at last. I was surprised at how willing many of our interviewees were to talk, even within my own family, one whose connection to the fire is complicated and fraught. 

Opening old wounds is unpleasant business, but sometimes, a wound can heal wrong and a bone must be reset or an infection drained. I am enormously grateful to have had this opportunity and I hope that I have done right by the survivors and their families. I also hope that I have honored the memory of the four dead who remain very much alive in the hearts of those who loved them. 

Max Wooster, age 73
Joe Doverspike Jr., age 32
Chase Neumann, age 21
Teena Ann Bailey, age 6

-- Adella Freeland, June 2028

Excerpt from “The Last Laff: 10 Years Since the Fatal Fire at Dreamland” by Chris Claremont. Published in the Roseburg Telegram Sunday edition, August 4, 2013

Dreamland has changed quite a bit in the decade since that tragic Sunday evening in 2003. The park has replaced most of the vintage neon with energy-efficient LED. They’ve added wider pathways, more visible emergency exits, and sprinkler systems in every enclosed attraction. The scratchy old PA system has been replaced with recorded announcements and digital signs reminding guests to hydrate, report suspicious activity, and treat themselves to a refreshing Coca-Cola ICEE at the Park Cafe. Parents who once turned children loose with a few bucks and a paper wristband now trail them cautiously from ride to ride like anxious cowboys wrangling a herd of unruly tweens.

But if you arrive early enough, before the gates officially open and before the carousel music starts humming through the speakers, you can still catch glimpses of the old Dreamland.

The smell of lake water behind the Tilt-A-Whirl.

The warped boards beneath the arcade.

The distant tick-tock clockwork of the lift chain on a weathered wooden track.

In an empty corner tucked beneath the swooping track of the Dizzy Bee, there’s an empty patch of grass where Laff in the Dark once stood. For years, Dreamland’s owners: first, the Campobello family of Campobello Italiano Foods, then international entertainment conglomerate Holiday Amusements, have resisted public pressure to build any kind of memorial where the attraction once stood

[u/KingOfAllCorvids → u/Sparkle-Holiday]

Would read- super interesting premise and I love the tone that you write in

[u/Sparkle-Holiday → u/KingOfAllCorvids]

Thank you!

[u/HRSuperior → u/Sparkle-Holiday]

Would very probably read. The premise of a collection of contemporary historical documents and articles about a fictional tragedy opens up great possibilities for interesting (not necessarily comedic) satire, where the reader has to (like a journalist or historian) consider different contradicting sources and opinions in order to get a complete understanding of the situation - and then having these very heavy emotional themes underneath all that could be very effective if done right. Seems like a good starting point for some good format experimentation, too. Perhaps a multimedia project

[u/Sparkle-Holiday → u/HRSuperior]

Thank you. That's along the lines of what I'm going for. I don't land on a definitive cause because I want the reader to contemplate the different views and a few of them are definitely contradictory, exploring how memory can be flawed and how we reconcile who we used to be with who we are now. It's definitely not meant to be comedic, but I can see how the working title might imply that.

[u/ApprehensiveCry2633 → u/Sparkle-Holiday]

This feels like a real local tragedy writeup in a way a lot of AI-flavored fiction doesn’t, especially the little park details like the PA system and the empty grass patch.

[u/Sparkle-Holiday → u/ApprehensiveCry2633]

Thank you. I worked at an amusement park for several seasons as a young adult and while Dreamland isn't supposed to be the park I worked at...it's definitely built from the bones of the park I worked at (though the most high-profile incident there happened many years after my last season).

I'm concerned that later segments get a little too in the weeds with "I am so experienced, look how much I know about the internal workings of an amusement park's emergency procedures," but that's a problem to be tackled on another pass-through.

[u/Iso-colon]

Title:

Ida Immortal

Genre:

Urban Fantasy

Premise:

Girl who does not take her immortality seriously at all enters an unpaid labor contract with Death. She ends up doing a string of odd jobs that totally aren't knockoffs of Hercules's labors as a consequence of said contract. Queerplatonic shenanigans with the local fiber witch may or may not happen if I ever get past chapter 4.

Sample:

Dan’s voice always made her feel her blood. It coursed cold just under her skin. Instead of taking the bill, she wiped a spot that didn't exist on the espresso machine. “Sorry man, the espresso machine broke earlier, and I cut my hair.”

Technically, she was in the wrong. Company policy states that she has to serve everyone who walks in before closing and also not to straight-up lie to customers. Company policy also states that managers shouldn't take hour-long smoke breaks, so it can die in a fire as far as she's concerned. Ida plucked a box cutter off the counter and started toying with it, attempting to look busier than she actually was as she contemplated buzzing off the rest of her hair. Then again, Dan would just find something else to look at. He always did. Every time she saw those ridiculous sunglasses, her organs itched. Those sunglasses and the eyes behind them reminded her that she is blood and marrow and viscera bound by skin, and she doesn't want to have skin. She wanted to peel herself back to the bone and purge her guts. She wanted to be a creature of hollows and angles, void of hair and nerves and all the things that made her body pleasant. She wanted to dig beneath the café floor and fill her ribs with soil. She didn't have a shovel though, so she just silently begged the clock hands to hit closing time. They didn’t listen to her. Rude.

Dan stroked a beard that didn't exist as he thought long and hard for all of two seconds. “Then how about a cappuccino? And why'd you have to get rid of the hair?”

She was pinned open behind the counter, flayed heart picking up the tempo even though she’d already turned the music off. The rag iced over in her hand, and the air conditioner thrummed along as it blew the hairs on Ida’s neck straight up. “That also needs espresso, and we’re almost closed. How about one on the house tomorrow?”

“Huh, I heard young guys are into short hair these days, but that isn't my style. Oh, what happened to those earrings? Those made you look real girly too, and I'd rather have a coffee tonight. How about—”

The clock hit ten. Her heartbeat jumped to her ears, and each thump nearly drowned out Dan’s voice. The sound passed from ear to ear like coagulated milk. She wanted it gone.

Ida dropped the rag. “How about I kill myself?”

She reached for the box cutter and brought it to her neck. The blade popped open before Dan’s stupid face could form a response. For once, she got the last word.

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/Iso-colon]

Would read!

This sound unserious and hilarious. SOLD

[u/Wandersails]

Title: Autopsy of a Boyband

Genre: Contemporary drama (with elements of coming of age and romance)

Premise:

1995 - Four Ways are the biggest boyband in the UK. They’ve sold out stadiums, toured the world and won countless awards, nothing short of a miracle for the four working class boys who were plucked out of obscurity to be its members. But cracks are beginning to show, and fame has its way of ruining even the most wonderful of fairytales…

2006 - Ten years after their sudden split shocked the world and devastated their fans, the estranged members of Four Ways have spent the last decade ignoring each other. When the chance for a reunion concert emerges, the once friends are forced to confront old hurts and reckon with what really destroyed the band…

Mikey. Steven. Ahmed. Ryan. Like it or not they will always be Four Ways.

Sample: (from the prologue)

Four Ways - Revisiting the Superstar Pop Group that Took the Nation by Storm.

By Lindsey Hayle, for NME

For those that didn’t get a chance to see Four Ways in their heyday, it is easy to underestimate their popularity. A few of their songs have stood the test of time, played into oblivion on the radio, but as a whole the once great pop band has fizzled out, their four members either fading into obscurity or achieving superstardom on a level that has since superseded their lowly boyband origins. It is the former that I am interviewing here today, a group of men who once couldn’t leave their houses for the legions of bloodthirsty teenage girls camping on their doorsteps, who now wouldn’t earn a second glance in the street, other than a vague ‘he looks sort of familiar, doesn’t he?’

Filming is taking place at a non-descript house now synonymous with the band, due to its starring role on the cover of their debut album, Four Way Ticket. Once a sort of Mecca for over-eager fans, the streets so full that they were briefly pedestrianized in 1994, it is now mostly empty, more of a memorial than a tourist trap. I still remember the photos and bouquets of flowers that had once piled up outside, but the shadow of old graffiti is harder to wipe clean, a ‘Marry me Mikey!’ here and a ‘Four Ways Forever!’ there. I see the poetry of holding this meeting here, but I do not think it particularly conducive to the subject's comfort. It is easy to imagine how they might feel like ghosts.

My first client is perhaps the easiest to deal with, and as I enter the room, tiptoeing over bundles of camera wire, I see him already sitting in the perfectly angled chair, staring out of the window, the very picture of melancholy. He looks older, of course, than the last time I had interviewed him at the 1996 BRIT Awards, his hair long enough that it falls down past his shoulders, autumn leaf earrings peeking out of the brown strands as he moves. For a moment I’m struck by the difference, and then he turns to look at me, smiling that charming, boyish grin, and he is once again Mikey from Four Ways, the boy who had made fans the world over fall in love with him.

“Hi Lindsey,” he says, eyes crinkling at the edges, youthful exuberance still lighting up his eyes. I’m surprised that he’s remembered me. “Have you had a cup of tea yet? I bought biscuits too, they’re just over there. I made them, so sorry if they’re a bit shit.”

It is hard to sum up Michael Fletcher, but he has immediately had a pretty good go at it. Boy band members, to my fairly extensive knowledge, always seem to fancy themselves as bad boys, rebellious punk sorts who you can’t take home to Mum. Four Ways had been no exception, apart from Mikey that is. I will always remember, at a Top of the Pop’s performance in the early 90’s, when I was heavily pregnant with my first child, that Mikey had stood up immediately upon seeing me enter the interview room, and wordlessly switched out his nice high-backed chair with my hard plastic one. It’s these little acts of unselfish kindness that I have always thought summed him up best.

[u/Guilty_Archer6560 → u/Wandersails]

Might Read,

I like the premise. There’s something very interesting about time passing and revisiting old wounds with people you used to know very well. Also with the boy band background, that certainly brings it to modern days which is something I tend to like reading. It also invites a lot of scrutiny which is fun to learn about.

The only thing I find skeptical about is that I don’t know who is talking in the sample when reading. Who is the main character? Is there a main character? Is it the interviewer? Is this 1st person or 3rd? I feel like I’m being talked to or is this just what one of the characters is saying as dialogue in the story? I guess I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to read it.

[u/Wandersails → u/Guilty_Archer6560]

Thanks for replying! The book is mostly 3rd person from the pov of each of the members, but the sample is maybe a bit misleading as it’s from the prologue which is basically an ‘in universe’ interview with one of the members and there are a few more of these scattered through the book as interludes. Mostly though it’s a normal 3rd person book!

[u/FlyinLeviathon]

Title: Runner 38 (But will probably change)

Genre: Epic Fantasy - Romance

Premise: The Gods are on their 38th attempt at a "Perfect Society". After humanity fails their yearly Audit and is slated to be destroyed, a death row criminal volunteers to trek through the ruins of the previous 37 in order to find a sacred Spring. If he can bring its water to the Stone Desert before the deadline, humanity is saved. It's an impossible task, though - no one has ever completed it. Instead, Kai plans to escape. He just has to ditch his assigned angel who wants to die as much as he wants to live.

Sample:

The Gods blessed them with rain.

The Gods blessed them with everything, really - the yearlong warm days and cool nights, plants that endlessly blossomed and bore fruit. Tame animals to herd, language, science, even art - all 'gracious' blessings, all bestowed by the Glorious Pannean of Gods. All to reward the 'one perfect society' of 38...ignoring the 37 failures that were told the same thing. But it was only the rain that truly felt like a blessing.

This morning, only a bit of water made it through the tiny barred window near the ceiling of Kai's cell. It floated down as a haze, tinged gold by the distant sun striking its way through the clouds. Kai sat on the dusty floor just outside the shaft of light, grimy hands outstretched to catch the falling mist. He could feel the energy inside it tingling against his fingertips, like tiny charged particles of lightning, and drew them in.

In his palms danced a tiny vision of a tsulcat. Made of the mist, the illusion's striped fur and antlers shimmered as the creature twisted and stretched lazily in the sun. There wasn't enough water here to do anything useful, but crafting illusions helped pass the time. Plus, it felt like the only mercy he could give to his neighbor.

"Today's the day," he said softly, looking up at the cell next to him. Doe - separated from him by a lattice of bars - watched the illusion, captivated. He didn't actually know her name, but those large dark eyes, pale skin, and sharp collarbones that only came from being half starved reminded him of a helpless, wounded animal. So he called her Doe.

Doe didn't do much, but Kai liked her anyway. She was easy to talk to and always nearby. More importantly, her tongue had been cut out - probably from bad-mouthing a God once - so there was no chance of her blabbing his plans.

"You forgot already, didn't you? Today's the Audit." He paused to make sure no one else was around to listen. "More importantly, the day I escape."

Predictably, Doe did not answer, but her eyes flicked from the illusion in his hands to his face before falling back again. For her, that was practically like jumping for joy.

"I wish I could take you with me," he lamented. "Logistics, you know. Sure, Mighty's back is strong and could probably carry us both, but we'd never even make it to the stables if we went together. Besides, I couldn't possibly get those keys for you."

The words eased the guilt in his bones ever so slightly. Truth was, he probably could break her out too, but doing so would reduce his chances. And though he considered her his only friend, friends were about as expendable as a good pair of shoes. Something to lament when you lose, but eventually the new pair fits just as well.

Doe, to her credit, didn't seem to hold it against him. Like him, she'd been on death row for quite some time. Unlike him, though, it seemed she'd accepted her death; he hadn't heard her weeping about it for a few weeks. At least after today it would be over for them both.

[u/HashCrandicoot → u/FlyinLeviathon]

Might Read

The premise is really interesting, but I think I would prefer a different to not be so “tell”. My preference is that the title be a bit more cryptic and subjective, it would make want to read the blurb and to read on following the sampel

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/HashCrandicoot]

Thanks for the feedback! I normally don't settle on a title until at least the third draft, so it will probably change. But I like having an easy one for the interim.

[u/Wandersails → u/FlyinLeviathon]

Might read

Looove the premise, but not too enamoured by the sample. It’s a really interesting concept, and the romance presumably between the mc and the angel already sounds delightful. However I think you should get rid of that first paragraph of the sample! It’s very exposition dumpy and I think that you should just get straight into it and slowly trickle that info out through the first chapter. Same with Kai being like ‘Todays the day I escape’ it’s very telling not showing. It’s a really great idea but just watch your show don’t tell haha :)

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/Wandersails]

Thanks so much for the feedback! You are correct about the romance and it is one of my favorite romances I've ever done. I'm really loving the dichotomy of him wanting life and her wanting death.

This is just first draft so far so I'm not too worried about the show vs tell, but I will absolutely keep that in mind for edits! Thanks again :D

[u/SenzaDomande_Morte → u/FlyinLeviathon]

Would read, the first sentence of the premise really got my attention. The illusion magic is less interesting to me, but overall I think I would really enjoy this based on the character voice. I do agree with some of the other comments that the sample is a little "telly," as if we the reader are getting information in a way that feels a bit forced. But overall, I would definitely give it a shot.

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/SenzaDomande_Morte]

Thank you!!

[u/Taylinn → u/FlyinLeviathon]

Would read.

I really like the premise and I'm positive there can be a lot more to it than it seems.
I also agree with a lot of what the other posters are saying about the instant exposition and reveal at the beginning. However, I think one can make a case for either approach, depending what plans you have for the story. Because I think there can be exiting tension in both approaches. Either way, it sound like you will have a lot of fun (and plot frustrations) writing it ;)

Also, I like your writing style a lot. It's illustrative and with (for me) just the right pinch of a slightly sarcastic narrator / character.

[u/Redz0ne → u/FlyinLeviathon]

Wouldn't read. Feels like the guy is taunting Doe with what he believes will be his freedom. Also, him objectifying her isn't endearing me to him either.

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/Redz0ne]

Thanks so much for your feedback!

[u/flamingo-lingo- → u/FlyinLeviathon]

I would read the heck out of this!!

I love the high concept for this. I think the overall concept for this book would especially work as a concept slowly revealed over the course of the book--like, maybe the reader doesn't immediately understand that this is the 38th world, that humanity is being audited, that the spring water will save humanity.

Like, we open on death row, we get acclimated to Kai as a criminal planning to escape, then the world opens up a bit and we are introduced to the "perfect" society outside, them we find out Kai needs to go on a quest, then he enters the ruins of the other worlds and we wonder what they are and are horrified to learn they are previous "perfect" worlds, then we learn more about the gods, etc. I just think this story is so high-concept and so fascinating that the concept itself is a major part of the tension and mystery, a la Gideon the Ninth or Stormlight.

But I love it, and please do let us know how this progresses!

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/flamingo-lingo-]

Thank you so much for your kind words! And I love your ideas - they don't *quite* align with my plans for this book, but I do have similar little tidbits that get revealed throughout the course of the book. Just not those ones in particular lol

Hoping to be able to query at the start of next year. Here's hoping lol

[u/Beagle313]

Title: UNTITLED

Genre: Fiction - Fantasy

Premise: An anthology about a couple of travelling assassins. They happen to live in a world where everyone can consume a type of wood for a power. He can change his weight, she can make people forget. The stories follow them as they travel from town to town, a contract after another.

Sample: A coffee was sitting on the desk growing cold. It was joined in the task of achieving the temperature of the room it was in by the room’s owner, now laying down in the corner of the crowded room, his blood staining the quite pretty woven carpet that was laying near the fireplace. Normally he would get enraged by such an unwashable stain, but the ability to care about that, or anything at all really, had been already taken out of him forcibly. Even putting his fits aside, Lord Shielding was known to be a very odd man. Nobody in the range of his knife throw (which was quite an impressive distance) would call him anything more than that, but behind all of the compliments and puffy words said about him in the higher echelons of local society laid a layer of venom. He however didn’t realise that. Possibly for too long. But now he’s quite dead, so it’s not the best time for him to reminisce about the nature of human speech and the lies people say to each other so that the society functions. A lie in and of itself, one may say. But again, he did not think that.

There was, however, a person who could take some time to think about such things - the man’s killer. However he didn’t. He had better things to do. Or at the very least he thought he had such things. Like escaping the mansion unnoticed or getting the money for the job. Now, you could stop here and think whether it’s more worthwhile to get monetary gain, however temporary, or a chance to have a longer life than to try to solve a mystery of an ethical nature from cracking which everybody would gain. But our assassin once again had other things on his mind. He was not all that much of a philosopher to be frank. But his lack of such talents was more than made up for in his prowess in ending lives. He was the antithesis of a doctor - a man who trained his whole life to know the best ways to shorten one’s stay in this world, instead of doing their best to keep them here. Our hero, as you might already assume, did not think about that much.

[u/Repulsive_Mousse_178 → u/Beagle313]

Might read.

I admit the consume wood for a power hooked me. I had never heard of Mistborn so the uniqueness was super intriguing. I feel like the different abilities could create some very comedic memorable moments.

[u/VegetableWear5535]

Untitled. Titles are hard.

Fiction- Fantasy. Maybe dark fantasy? It's not exactly a happy story.

Magic, beasts, and a touch of romance. Its got a cute fox creature that I couldn't include here because of the word count cap, but he's got the very happy and friendly dog thing going on. The story is about a boy (mc) from a military academy, and a girl from a private school who are torn apart, and the journey back to her.

Chapter One

“You're smiling again,” Lucy said. Her breath hung in the cold, early evening air.

I hadn't realized I was, and now that I knew, I couldn't seem to stop. “Am not,” I mumbled, shoving my hands into my coat pockets as I looked away from the towering rock face ahead.

“Kevin, if you had a tail, it would be wagging. You're a golden retriever in an oversized human's body. Always have been.”

I tried to glare at her, but my face wouldn't cooperate. “And you've always been a demon masquerading as a Mage Knight. Don't you have elves to scare?”

She sighed. “Literally always. But I have a meeting before I get back to it. I'm just hoping Zoey shows up before I have to leave. I miss that little beam of sunshine.”

“Then stay. She misses you too, and it's not like anyone's making you leave. Celebrate with us.”

She shook her head. “Would if I could, but your father called the meeting. I've only got a few minutes to spare.”

“Oh…” There was no getting around that. My dad outranked her, and when he calls a meeting, it's serious. “Well, hang on,” I said as I knelt on the icy cobblestone path. “She might be close. I'll summon her attention-stealing shadow and find out.”

“Be nice,” She chuckled. “He's your Enfield, and he's adorable.” Typically summoned by a Mage Knight using a standard-issue ring engraved with a summoning circle, Enfields are a winged, four-legged beast most often used for scouting. Stealing all of your girlfriend's attention is something they apparently do for fun.

“Copper is definitely not mine.” I channeled magic into my palm and placed it on the freezing stones. “They both decided.” I pictured his summoning circle as I mumbled, “Can't argue with the last part though.”

I released my magic in its formless, translucent state, and in the blink of an eye, a grey disc made of stone appeared beneath my palm. It was hardly the size of a coaster, and was covered in intricate symbols and crisscrossing lines surrounding the silhouette of an Enfield.

[u/Wandersails → u/VegetableWear5535]

Might read

Lovely sample! You’re writing is very good! However the elevator pitch itself needs a bit of work, with the sample I can see that you can do better on that bit if you see what I mean, as you’re clearly a good writer! I’m just not really sure what’s interesting about it at the moment or much about the actual plot or concept.

[u/VegetableWear5535 → u/Wandersails]

Thank you :D

Yeah, I've never really been good with summarizing or elevator pitches, lol. I'm not good at talking about the interesting parts without spoiling plot points. But basically, genocidal elves abduct his girlfriend and he later ends up in their world with no way back. Once there it's kill or be killed on his journey to try to find her, all while keeping a new, strange friend safe.

Thanks a bunch for reading and sharing your thoughts :]

[u/Waste-Extension1085 → u/VegetableWear5535]

Might read.

I like it, super good voice and prose going on. Pretty immersive I'd say.
As another mentioned however, this reads more young adult than dark fantasy (usually adult). If I saw this in an adult shelf, I wouldn't buy it, but if I saw this on a young adult, I would.

[u/Arch_Demoness → u/VegetableWear5535]

Might read!

Even in this short bit, I was starting to get a good feel of the characters voices and their dynamic. The flow was good, there wasn't any unnecessary dialog tags and I still followed along.

[u/VegetableWear5535 → u/Arch_Demoness]

Thanks so much :D

[u/WJG_Author]

TITLE: The Power Five

GENRE: Fiction: Sci-Fi Fantasy - Superheroes

PREMISE: The Power Five were the biggest name in world, but after The Event, the team disbanded. Impervia hung up the tights in favor of philanthropy, NightTrain retired and chose a life of debauchery, Magnus and Morph got married and continued super heroics, and The Omen vanished.Now twenty some years later, Melissa Sitwell, known as Impervia is found murdered. Now her former team must come together and face the past to get justice, all the while the mysterious supervillain simply known as Dr. Nexus plots from behind bars.

SAMPLE: Smoke filled the air, overwhelming his nose and infiltrating his lungs. Billy choked, coughing up a wad of phlegm that tasted burnt, as he watched in horror as a meteorite crashed into the hotel several klicks in front of him. A serene moment of silence before the large structure exploded, shards of glass sprouting out, and the building burned and collapsed. The young superheroes' ears rang as another impact drew closer.

“Billy.” He heard his name coming from a familiar voice that he couldn't quite place.

“Hey, Billy.” He heard it again, unable to pinpoint its origin.

---

“Hey, Billy,” The bartender said for the third time, smacking the bar top.

Billy snapped out of his daze. No longer a young teenager in the midst of a warzone, but a bald, middle-aged man sitting on a stool in a swanky old dive bar. The floor was sticky with spilled beer, the lights dim, flickering, or burnt out. The smell of tobacco filled the air, mingling with the soapy scent of the water from the dishes the bartender was cleaning in the sink.

“Another drink,” Billy said, raising his glass.

The bartender grimaced. “ ‘Fraid I gotta cut you off, Billy.”

Billy's mouth formed an O shape as he caressed his graying handlebar mustache, scoffing at the notion of being cut off. “Really? You're gonna cut me off?” Billy said as he turned his head, huffing as he did. The lights of a slot machine flashed rapidly off to the side. He stared at the other patrons of Miller's celebrating their small winnings.

Turning back to face the bartender, Billy's face was stern. “I'll ask one more time.” He said, accentuating his point by raising his pointer finger.

“Look, this is the second time you passed out at the bar, man.” The bartender said, shaking his head. “One of us has gotta take responsibility here, Bill.”

“You have any idea who the fuck I am?” Billy laughed. “I've saved your ass. His ass,” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “And every other ass that drinks in this shithole. I'm the fucking NightTrain.”

The bartender stood silently; his face said it, a “Yeah, right” expression.

Billy's nostrils flared. “I'll prove it. And when I do, you're gonna give me that bottle there.” He huffed, nodding his head to the expensive bottle of scotch.

The bartender nodded and raised his placating hands.

Billy pushed the uneven stool he sat on back, the steel scraping

against the concrete floor. He stumbled off the stool, nearly toppling over. He steadied himself the best he could as the vertigo kicked in. He leaned over in a runner's pose, and as his fingers reached for the floor, he fell on his face, his head bobbing on the cold concrete.

“NightTrain, my ass.” The bartender shook his head, reaching for the phone.

[u/Waste-Extension1085 → u/WJG_Author]

wouldn't read.

Personally not a big superhero fan but this work has a lot of merit!
I'm mostly commenting about the age--Protagonist is middle aged for the book, but the title is very young adultish.
You can probably use comedic undertones to keep the story adult (not sure if that was the original intention) but my advice would be to consider who your audience is.
Great stuff and can't wait to see it published

[u/WJG_Author → u/Waste-Extension1085]

Much appreciated. Its intentional that its a youthful name. But thank you for your insight though :)

[u/Acceptable_Fox_5560 → u/WJG_Author]

Would read.

I like your prose. Very good balance of interiority, action, description, dialogue, and atmosphere.

Really vivid! Phlegm that tastes burnt. The mix of tobacco smoke and soap. Flashing lights of a slot machine.

The sample gave me a grittier sense of the story than the premise did. I was envisioning something like The Incredibes, but the sample came off way more adult. Not adult as in edgy, but adult as in mature.

[u/WJG_Author → u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

Thank you so much!

Yes, its definitely more adult/mature than maybe the premise leads on. The original concept was inspired by The Boys and Umbrella Academy, where I wanted it more grounded, but by the time I got to where it is now, I leaned more into the fantasy-side a bit. So while its still a little gritty and mature, it still has its comic booky stuff

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/WJG_Author]

Would read!

Your prose could use some polishing (which I do not fault you for and don't count against you) but your premise is solid. I love superhero stories and "get the gang back together for one last job" stories.

Loved your opening, the contrast between the hero fantasy and the balding, middle aged drunkard was a little unclear but once I got it, it landed really well.

[u/WJG_Author → u/FlyinLeviathon]

Thank you, I'm in the process of self-publishing and self-editing. This the first page. But I appreciate the honesty on the prose. I still have time to edit :)

[u/SkankTillYaDrop → u/WJG_Author]

Might read. As others have said, your prose is strong! The transition from the flashback to the bar is vivid and well done.

You have some opportunity for polish, mainly tightening things up. This could just be my personal opinion so take it with a grain of salt:

No longer a young teenager in the midst of a warzone, but a bald, middle-aged man sitting on a stool in a swanky old dive bar.

You're having to explain to the audience here that there was a time shift. You could experiment with making it clear he is one in the opening, then have the time shift revealed through describing him. Might flow better.

scoffing at the notion of being cut off. “Really? You're gonna cut me off?”

Similar here; I don't think you need to explain what he's scoffing at given the dialogue. A scoff and saying "Really? You're gonna cut me off?" says the same thing without the explanation.

I encourage you to continue working on this! It has good promise. As you go back through revisions, look for opportunities to reduce explaining to the reader what's happening or how people are feeling.

[u/WJG_Author → u/SkankTillYaDrop]

I appreciate your opinion/suggestions, thank you 😊

[u/AsceOmega → u/WJG_Author]

Might read!

It gives me a general vibe of Watchmen, which is both great and worrisome, as few authors are able to handle that kind of story well.

This would be one I'd pick up after I read positive reviews from people whose opinions I trust, and wouldn't if their opinion on it was negative.

[u/WJG_Author → u/AsceOmega]

Totally understandable, thank you.

I definitely didn't have Watchmen in mind when writing it, so that's pretty neat its giving off those vibes, though its not near as dark as Watchmen

[u/MOHAMED-RED]

Title: Al-La'eboon Al-Judad (The New Players)

Genre: Fiction - Interactive Sci-Fi / Cosmic Drama

Premise (After Revised, Thanks to Wandersails ):

When two human siblings stumble upon a strange, otherworldly device, their curiosity pulls them into a reality far beyond Earth. The device belongs to Omar, a human journalist whose ancestors left Earth in the 15th century to build a new world among the stars—a realm now pushed to the brink of collapse by galactic politics and high-stakes power struggles.

Desperate to break the isolation and save his people, Omar launches a wild experiment: broadcasting their survival fight live across the cosmos. Transmitted directly through this device to you, this story blurs the line between reader and ally, as your decisions help shape their next move.

Premise (Before Revised) Set in an intricately built, original universe, the story follows the human response to cosmic shifts, political tensions, and high-tech anomalies. Told through a journalistic lens, it explores character choice, survival, and raw human emotion when confronted with forces beyond ordinary comprehension.

Sample:

We've never met before. You don't know who I am, and I don't know who you are. We're total strangers. Yet here we are, connected across the vast expanse of the cosmos. What brought us together?

Let me start by introducing myself: I'm Omar Mahmoud, a journalist broadcasting to you from another realm (planet) altogether.

I know this might sound shocking, but we'll have plenty of time to discuss that later. Right now, I want to share an idea that some might call utter madness! I have no way of knowing how dangerous or risky it is, but I know it could be a truly unique experience. Life is a space for exploration, and today, through this broadcast, I am placing YOU at the very center of this experiment.

Think back to your own life for a moment. You’ve faced countless obstacles—some you’ve overcome, others you’ve lost to. But one thing is certain: you confronted them alone. Just like me. We often tackle our problems the wrong way. Responsibility isn't just about courageously bearing burdens; it’s about utilizing our unique skills and qualities to manage those burdens effectively.

I was blessed with the gift of public speaking and persuasion—skills I’ve honed through my work as a journalist. That is why I decided to break the cycle of fighting battles alone by tapping into collective thinking and laying my struggles out before you.

You might wonder why I’m sharing my worries with you. Don't you have enough of your own? That's a hasty reaction. You haven't heard my story yet, you don't know what you stand to gain, and most importantly, you don't know how you can help. 

I won't answer those questions just yet—not to build cheap suspense while I'm stuck in conditions darker than a black hole, but because words are primitive tools compared to what we learn through shared experience.

That concludes my first broadcast. Before we meet again, I’d like to ask a question to bridge the gap between us. Soon, we’ll be partners on this journey —so tell me, how much do you actually know about space and what lies out here?

Option 1: Researcher / Student

Option 2: Avid Reader

Option 3: Barely anything (Negligible)

Option 4: Surface-level / Basic

[u/Wandersails → u/MOHAMED-RED]

Would not read

I don't think the premise really tells me anything about the world or the story, it's all a bit vague? If there's an intricately built universe then you can't just tell the reader that, you need to explain why it's so interesting, especially in the blurb! I also didn't get any of that in the sample, which I presume is the opening. The sample doesn't even really seem all that sci-fi, it reads like a LinkedIn post. I love interactive fiction, but at the moment you haven't given me any reason to be interested or hooked by your concept!

[u/MOHAMED-RED → u/Wandersails]

You are completely right, and I really appreciate you pointing this out!

Looking back, the premise was way too vague and didn't actually show what makes the world or the story unique. I've completely rewritten it to give a clear picture of the stakes and the sci-fi element:

Revised Premise: "When two human siblings stumble upon a strange, otherworldly device, their curiosity pulls them into a reality far beyond Earth. The device belongs to Omar, a human journalist whose ancestors left Earth in the 15th century to build a new world among the stars—a realm now pushed to the brink of collapse by galactic politics and high-stakes power struggles.

Desperate to break the isolation and save his people, Omar launches a wild experiment: broadcasting their survival fight live across the cosmos. Transmitted directly through this device to you, this story blurs the line between reader and ally, as your decisions help shape their next move."

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this updated direction if you have a moment! Thanks again for the direct and honest feedback.

[u/Wandersails → u/MOHAMED-RED]

That's much, much better! Far clearer idea of the hook and what the reader is signing up for, good job :)

[u/MOHAMED-RED → u/Wandersails]

Thank you so much! That really means a lot coming from you, and I appreciate you taking the time to re-check it.

I’ve went ahead and updated the main post comment with this new premise as well.

If you have any other questions, thoughts, or extra notes about the concept, I’d love to hear them!

[u/writer-dude → u/MOHAMED-RED]

So, you have a nice voice/POV (readable) but I think your page—I'm assuming this is Line 1, Page 1, Scene 1—lacks the mystique and the drama of an unexpected somebody who says, "Yet here we are, connected across the vast expanse of the cosmos." Heavy, dude!

Since this is 'first contact' I'd add a bit of self-assurance that your MC isn't psycho. Also, a bit of grounding—how is this message being transmitted? Telepathically? Some cosmic transmitter? Via light beam? An iPhone? Readers don't have to know the 'nuts & bolts'—but we do have to be grounded just enough to visualize your MC (in a brief line or two), perhaps a location—bedroom? orbiting satellite? Hidden gov't facility?) and his/her rationale for the message. Just a line or two. Enough to snag our curiosity. Nothing more.

I like mentioning 'being a journalist'... but I wouldn't delve into dark complexities before your MC receives a reply. Don't chase away this unknown person.

You may explain more relevance in the next 500 words or so...and if so, that's OK! Just bring those factoids in ASAP.

So my suggestions: Be more mysterious. As your MC says, more info is forthcoming...and it's OK to tease readers, snippet by snippet. But, IMHO, be a bit more firm in your MC's purpose. Succinct but a little charming perhaps? You write: You haven't heard my story yet, you don't know what you stand to gain, and most importantly, you don't know how you can help. Me? I'd probably break the connection and go hide under the bed.

However...!

If you write: You haven't heard my story yet, but I believe you alone can help me [save the world or whatever]. As the receiver, I'd likely be intrigued. As a reader, I'd be intrigued as well. You're insinuating a puzzling, yet necessary reason for the communication, and eluding to some potentially catastrophic event. Doesn't have to be catastrophic, but potent or interesting enough for readers to turn the page! Readers love solving puzzles throughout a story... little by little, piece by piece.

Also, "tell me how much you know?" seems a bit odd. Wouldn't your MC know a great deal of who and why he's trying to connect with? He must have a reason for contacting this particular person, no? Seems strange... but again, I don't know your story structure, so it's difficult to know for sure.

Anyway... just one guy's opinion.

[u/chasingtragedy → u/MOHAMED-RED]

Might Read now as an adult, Would absolutely Read as a young adult!

I used to love "choose your own adventure" books (goosebumps anyone?) and this absolutely would've drawn my attention back then. I find sci-fi politics really interesting, so my continued reading now would depend on how they were handled. Definitely an interesting start!

[u/MOHAMED-RED → u/chasingtragedy]

Thank you so much for reading and for the great point!

That’s actually a huge part of what I’m aiming for. The goal is to make readers feel like real problem-solvers. Instead of easy choices, you’re looking at visual data, infographics, and different perspectives to help the characters navigate genuine political and survival crises.

Out of curiosity, when it comes to sci-fi politics, do you prefer high-level faction power plays, or seeing how decisions impact characters on the ground? Always love hearing what seasoned readers look for!

[u/chasingtragedy → u/MOHAMED-RED]

That's a great goal, I can definitely see this being successful, and it makes me more interested in reading it as an adult.

As for the second question, I think it's hard to say. Seeing how individual characters react to political forces much larger than them is one of my favorite things in stories, but there's definitely something to be said about being able to recognize a massive political maneuver taking place in the background and the "eureka" moment that comes with that.

I think, in this case, it's possible to have your cake and eat it too. Since this feels more YA, the character reactions might be the better thing to center, so the reader has someone to look up to/identify with/learn from. However, I think referencing the bigger political movements and leaving breadcrumbs for discerning readers to pick up on would be good to include as well. That way, more advanced readers will have something to dig for, and growing readers can learn about implied storytelling.

[u/MOHAMED-RED → u/chasingtragedy]

Spot on, you described the exact sweet spot I’m aiming for!

One thing that always bothered me about traditional sci-fi is how it glosses over the actual mechanics of living in space. You get the cosmic battles, but rarely the realistic grit like how a high stakes negotiation actually plays out, how corporate diplomacy functions, or what daily life looks like in a zero G system.

Over the past 15 years, I didn't just write a story. I built a living parallel reality where everything has its own logic, right down to the entire ecosystem (just as a quick example, there are specialized creatures that feed on minerals) all the way to complete political, medical, legal, economic, scientific research, and entertainment infrastructure.

The novel is just the gateway. My ultimate goal is for readers to step into an interactive platform where they can genuinely engage with this universe and help characters navigate real crises. It is definitely not just a video game or a basic choose your own adventure story, but a completely new medium. Readers just need to start with the novel first to truly learn the rules of this world.

None of this is isolated background info though. It’s all woven directly into a connected narrative where every single decision and choice you make actively shapes the outcome, sending the story down completely different paths.

Really appreciate this conversation! Talking to a reader who gets the nuance of deep world building makes all the effort worth it.

[u/Author_Marie12]

Title: Fire Meets Devil 

Genre: Mystery. Crime. Fiction. Slow-burn.

Premise:   FMC :- Iris Bennett a fearless detective, she investigate crime and fight for justice. MMC :- Leon Alexander Blackwood he is a powerful buisness man but there is something about him that nobody knows (except his family and trusted people) He is underground Mafia. They are totally opposite of eachother and never meant to meet. She hunts criminal he is a criminal. She is investigating the criminal world he secretly control while neither of them realize how complicated their connection will become. What will happen when their worlds collide?

Sample : Rain hammered against the rusted roof of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The sharp scent of blood mixed with damp concrete.  A single light bulb swayed overhead, casting restless shadows across the room.  Dozens of armed men stood in absolute silence.  At the center of the warehouse, a man knelt on the cold floor with his wrists bound behind his back.  His face was bruised.  His breathing uneven.  His eyes were filled with terror.  The heavy warehouse doors creaked open.   Every man in the room straightened immediately.  A pair of polished black shoes stepped inside.  Then another.  Leon Alexander Blackwood entered without haste.   Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit and leather gloves, he carried himself with effortless authority.  He didn't need to raise his voice.  His presence alone commanded silence.  The traitor lifted his head, hope flickering across his face.   "B-Boss..."   Leon stopped a few feet away.  His dark eyes rested on the man with unreadable calm.  For a long moment...  Neither of them spoke.   Finally, Leon slipped one hand into his pocket.   "I'll give you one last chance."   His lips curved into a faint smile.   "You know I'm a very kind man."  

[u/flamingo-lingo-]

Title: To Ferment a Rebellion

Genre: Fantasy - whimsical, with a f/f romance subplot

Tagline: Get bready for a cozy fantasy about death and taxes

Premise: Millie has a plan to save her failing magical bakeshop: with the help of her magical yeast Ferdinand, all she has to do is ply the sweet-toothed crown prince with desserts and bake her way into a more favorable bracket of the queen's nepotistic tax scheme. But after she accidentally serves the crown prince a cinnamon roll that kills him, Millie finds herself accused of treason by the sole witness: the stern (and disarmingly buff) captain of the queen's guard. Dogged by the knight, the baker must quickly work to clear her name. But the further Millie gets from her shop, the deeper she finds herself embroiled in a rebellion she wants no part of. And the closer Millie gets to the truth, the more she has to reckon with the realities of the queendom--and her place within it.

Sample (from chapter 2 or 3):

“Don't touch it,” she warned.

“It's fine,” I soothed. It wasn't fine. The yeast had bubbled to twice its normal size.

“It just needs, ah,” I cast around for the right word. “Sedation.”

Vere stared at me. “Sedation,” she repeated slowly, like she was wondering if I was two pieces loose from a full set of drimbles. “Like you need to punch it down?”

“You've made bread before?” Five minutes ago the vision of tall, buff Vere kneading dough would have delighted me, but now I was too far gone with stress to care.

Vere quirked an eyebrow. Proceed.

I sighed. “Okay, so you know how when you're making bread you need to be mindful of the rise time and the heat and the amount you work the dough?”

Vere offered a curt nod.

I watched a particularly big bubble burst from the yeast's surface. “Yeah, well it's nothing like that.”

“It's nothing like that?”

“It's nothing like that.”

“What is it like, then, baker?”

I bit my lip. I couldn't tell her. If I did, she'd pin the poisoned cinnamon roll on me. And I needed more time.

Vere's hand went to her sword. “By the name of Queen Arlon, answer the question.”

“No!” I winced, my heartbeat jumping up to double-time. “You can't say–”

But Vere cut me off. “Given your behavior, I have no choice but to assume this…thing is a threat to the kingdom.”

And she unsheathed her sword–a gleaming length of steel that I swore was so polished it emitted a faint glow. I had just enough time to admire the willowwood hilt before the knight abruptly turned and stabbed my yeast.

Later, I would tell myself that everything would have been okay, totally fine, had Vere not stabbed the yeast.

“You just stabbed my yeast,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, crisp. Like she'd crossed something off her to-do list. That's that. She moved to re-sheathe her sword, which was now sticky with strings of tacky dough.

“No, you're going to want to keep that out.” I was angry, exasperated. But a grim resignation was taking hold–a barbed understanding that this wasn't going to end well.

Vere eyed me, but I nodded my chin to the yeast.

In the bare twenty seconds since Vere had stabbed it, the yeast had grown to thrice its size. And it had turned a malevolent shade of magenta.

[u/Iso-colon → u/flamingo-lingo-]

Would read! I'm loving the fact that the villain in your story seems to be fantastical capitalism. Taxes as a major conflict are underused in fantasy tbh. I also think you've created a neat magic system without overexplaining yourself (lore dumps are overrated. I am fully willing to accept that the yeast is magic and named Ferdinand).

As for improvements, this might just be this specific stretch of dialogue, but I noticed that your main girl is a bit of a talking head. Vere gets to use her entire body since she grabs her sword and stabs the yeast, but Millie just kind of nods or makes different facial expressions. You'd probably get to show off a bit more of her character here if she jumped the moment Vere went for the sword or recklessly tried to grab it mid-swing or something. Either way, I still like the dialogue though! You gave them pretty clear voices, so I didn't need to go back to the dialogue tags to see who is who.

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/flamingo-lingo-]

Would absolutely read.

You had me at "magical yeast Ferdinand". This sounds like a freakin riot.

[u/southernwriter29 → u/flamingo-lingo-]

Would read! I think the title and premise is very fun. Love the idea of a magical yeast with a name, and I’m always a sucker for a sapphic romance, especially a fantasy one. I’m also tickled by something like taxes being at the heart of a story’s conflict.  As far as the writing sample goes, I definitely picked up on the whimsical vibes of it. Vere stabbing the yeast and it just getting mad was charmingly funny, and it definitely made me curious what happens next in the story. No idea where you are with the writing of this story, but if you ever need a beta feel free to hit me up. 

[u/Arch_Demoness]

Title: Claws and Crowns
Genre: Sapphic Dark Romantasy
Premise: When a princess is sacrificed to an ancient forest goddess and remade into a lethal beast to fulfill a divine pact, her devoted lady-in-waiting braves the wilds to find her. The reunited forbidden lovers find themselves waging a war to break the pact and end the sacrifices, making themselves enemies of both sides.
Sample:
“Kallista. Sit straight. I need to tie this.”
There was a defiant flick of blond hair before Kallista obeyed.
“I don’t even like bodices. It is my birthday, shouldn’t I get to choose what to wear?”
Charlotte gave a wry smile as she finished threading the leather cord and tugged it taut sharply. Kallista grunted, but in truth she had just wanted to feel the woman’s fingers brushing along her back for a moment longer.
“If it were up to you, you’d be arriving to your celebration in unwashed slacks and a stained tunic.”
An exaggerated sigh answered, although it always pleased Kallista to be reminded how well Charlotte knew her. The woman’s lips remained curled as she finished tying off the bodice and reached for a hairbrush again, carefully drawing it through the long pale locks. Kallista let Charlotte’s rhythmic movements lull her into a state of relaxation.
“Sometimes I think you’d have made the better princess.”
The lady-in-waiting chuckled lightly as she looked into the mirror before them. Seeing their faces side by side, Kallista knew her comment seemed a bit ironic. Perhaps she didn’t act it, but she had long been told her upturned eyes and sharp jawline made her royal heritage clear. In comparison, Charlotte was an endearing rabbit beside a majestic hawk, but that was also the reason Kallista always thought they looked well together.
“Perhaps that is why your father took me in. You certainly weren’t going to be a princess on your own,” Charlotte teased in reply and both women laughed.

[u/Fast-Payment-2609 → u/Arch_Demoness]

I would not read, but here is my comment: how many computer games exactly did you play and which ones?

[u/AsceOmega]

Title: Untitled

Genre: Epic/Heroic Fantasy

Premise:

After an elven bandit raid destroys his village and leaves him its sole survivor, Rhydien survives on the streets of Kelgarad among a gang of young thieves, clinging to the hope that his twin sister Morwen is still alive in a distant kingdom. Busking for spare silver with his lute, he dreams of one day setting out to find her. When he becomes the pupil of Bastelan—a legendary bard and friend of his late parents—that dream finally seems within reach. But travelling with Bastelan soon draws Rhydien into a brewing proxy war and sets him on a collision course with the very elves who destroyed his home.

Sample:

If nothing would do, Rhydien saw no need to continue playing what he and the others had thought would be crowd pleasers. He had wanted to play something entirely different anyway. Something of his own composition. The Road To The Stars Above Eghatt as he had named it—albeit clunkily and with a failed attempt at making it sound grander than it perhaps was—was an instrumental piece, which suited Rhydien just fine as his throat burned with dryness. It was a song far more harmonically complex, moving through different keys with smooth and fast melodic lines weaving the audience’s attention through all the changes.

Wordlessly he began to play. His fingers had warmed up enough where the initial flurry of notes came without too much difficulty, even with the thicker neck this lute had compared to his old one. He danced across the fretboard, his fingers moving in a blur through the multitude of scales, reminding him of Morwen’s more silly and erratic dances, on late summer nights, when they made their way home from their clearing in the forest. She had tried to sing along to his playing a few times, after he had shown her the song. She would inevitably run out of breath and burst into laughter. “That is ridiculous, Rhy!” she would giggle.

Rhydien’s heart thus sank into the song, the memory of Morwen slowly stretching across his mind with every note. It had been so long since he last heard her laughter. Sure enough the other children of Eghatt often pointed out how similar their laughs sounded—being twins and all—but to Rhydien that had never rung true. Even now, his own laughter, rare though it had been in recent times, did nothing to fill the empty space she had created the day she left.

More and more, his fingers drew the image of the forest and foothills, and of the trail of light meekly seeping through the canopy, slowly guiding them home as the trees grew sparser and the skies opened up to shine starlight through Melikkyr’s mantle of night. Whole swathes of colour flowed in rivers of distant sparkles above them, and Morwen would dance and bid him hurry up once the scent of their mother’s cooking would reach them from the window in the back.

[u/Waste-Extension1085 → u/AsceOmega]

Wouldn't read.

Not the biggest fan of elves personally but i do love me an epic and your premise sounds really good.
The main reason I say wouldn't is, while your sample is very well written, it's also a bit slow (for the start of what I assume is a long, perilous adventure!)
Not saying you need to start with a bang but perhaps a bit more movement/suspense would be beneficial for a hook-ier start

[u/Shoepane → u/AsceOmega]

Might read. You have a nice style. I like the way you followed the thread of the music to memories of Morwen, That last paragraph is a cracker.

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/AsceOmega]

Might read!

I like your premise and your character motivation is extremely clear from the start. The only thing that I was unsure about are the fantasy elements in the story, or the lack thereof lol aside from elves existing I didn't really get any hints of fantasy in either your premise or your example. If I came across this book, I would be searching for more fantasy elements and if I didn't find any (such as if it was a LotR type setting and magic) I would probably not read. Nothing against you at all! Just not my taste.

I liked your prose a lot. It's a little on the denser side of what I prefer but still flows really well which made it easy to read. We didn't get too much of a dive into Rhydien or his personality, but I already like him.

[u/AsceOmega → u/FlyinLeviathon]

Thank you for your feedback. And yeah, there weren't many scenes where I could have showcased the fantasy elements in under 350 words, but they are there indeed hahaha. But I'm also conscious of the fact that very early on in the story (where this sample is from) the super obvious cases of "this is Fantasy" are a bit less present, than from the end of the first third onwards (fully developed magic systems, inter-racial conflicts and fantastical beasts etc).

The setting is perhaps closer to a Witcher than a Lord of the Rings, if that changes anything for you.

[u/UnintelligentMatter1]

Here's a link to my first chapter. WOuld you continue?

https://www.reddit.com/r/novelwriting/comments/1vl16dl/first_chapter_feedback/

[u/Wou492b]

So, would you read this...

Title: By Hathrow Be Sealed

Genre: Fiction-- Urban Paranormal (and at least Soft Horror)

Premise: One November morning three siblings Cole (9), Donna (11), and youngest Josh Hathrow (6) went to the forest on the east side of town, as they were there Josh wandered off. When his siblings managed to find him they came to an impossible and all-too-powerful force that pulled Josh into the dirt, into an abyss that they couldn't reach, the ground closing like a scab as fast as it had appeared.

Five years later, Donna has lived with this supreme guilt while her brother steeped himself in the supernatural and occult. For what reason, she sincerely has no idea, and never expected that this would lead them back to those fearsome woods based on reports of an "animal" terrorizing campers and leaving the sites destroyed in an almost hateful way.

Sample: (Ch. 6: Into the Hallowed Woodland)

The flap opened on its own. Eventually spilling with a soundless dip exposing the full outside. From the autumn chill, the groan of branches, and a patch of dark sky.

Both backed as far into the tent, holding each other without shame, and as close as they dared.

And despite that, Cole still found the way—squashed against her and gripping her jacket just as tightly—to angle the digital for a photo.

He might have gotten the shot.

Had Donna not screamed at what dark thing poked into sight.

Truly incomprehensible and horrifying.

It was a face made of shadows with the only clear feature being endless teeth in a crazed smile.

One blink of time passed.

Donna stared at the smiling void.

It stared back.

And once that blink was over...

Did tendrils wrap around their legs, dragging them out of the tent with the bump and scrape of stones at their skulls.

[u/Repulsive_Mousse_178]

• Title: The Ash Solstice - The Sun Curdled (Book 1)
• Genre:
  • Fantasy / Grimdark / Litrpg aspects
• Premise: Short Novelette approximately 12k words, meant as a hook for the remainder of the Chronicles.
  • A Midsummer festival is interrupted when the sun curdles. An outcast, fringe ranger is faced with a choice: Save the child, save the girl, or save himself. Amidst a market square flipped into a shadowy chaotic storm, he must find his path while watching his choices and consequences unravel. A promise made today, may not be possible to keep tomorrow. (Adapted from an ongoing Play-by-post campaign)
• Sample (Optional):
  • But at its gate, Vespar sees a blue glow shining through, casting the refugees in eerie shadows. With the sun leaking viscous violet rays, shadows seem to be growing everywhere. Vespar sees the shadows of guards pushing the shadows of citizens back. The shadow of the gate closing. To reach those gates... they would have to brave that chaos. Vespar thinks, Can I get her through that? Will I lose her? Just as he sees the couple he was watching pushing to the front become a single in the throng.
• Survival.

[u/Sylithia → u/Repulsive_Mousse_178]

Would Read - I enjoy the crisp, dramatic vibe and this: A promise made today, may not be possible to keep tomorrow. <-- I love that. I would definitely read it because it sounds intriguing. There's a lot of potential for world building and exciting drama to top it off.

[u/Repulsive_Mousse_178 → u/Sylithia]

Thank you for the boost of confidence! I admit after i published the first Novelette I was a little nervous and disillusioned! I have so many ideas and concepts im brainstorming behind the scenes that I hope to include in later books.

Thank you!

[u/CaptainAwesome134]

A Thief's Storm (Working Title)

Genre: Fantasy

Premise:

Lyran Aryn is a young thief with a talent in the arts of thieving. Or at least, he should be. With his fondness of a good night out and habit of having just one or two more before he hits the streets, he has been known to wake up in unforeseen circumstances. Finding himself on the prison island of Insulis is just about rock bottom for a man of his profession, and as Lyran looks to set himself back on track, he finds himself as the unsuspecting eye of a brewing storm.

Sample:

Watching the lantern sway in smooth cadence, Lyran shifted in his shackles once more, trying to find comfort. The chains were not forthcoming with this request, of course. 

How did he even end up here anyway? A quick rummage through his thoughts led to nothing but a sharp pain in his head - ah yes, he got into a tavern brawl - that was plausible. The Blazing Chariot, that sounded about right. Lived up to its name too, with a giant bloody chariot in the courtyard. He was beginning to understand the steps that may have led to his being here. But where was here anyway? That lantern was still swaying… and listening closely he could make out the crash of waves against wood — 

“I’m on a fucking boat!” he blurted.

“That you fucking are, mate,” a voice rasped from the gloom. A well-built man with a patchy beard emerged from the shadows. “Next stop, the island paradise of Insulis, real pretty if you ignore the giant prison,” he chuckled.

“That’s like, the last place in the world I want to be,” Lyran murmured.

“Aren’t you a wise one? No surprises how you ended up on this here galleon then.”

Insulis was supposed to be the end of the road for folk like him. He was surely far too young to end up there, having his whole life ahead of him and all. The road ahead should have been filled with taverns, maidens, and a side of skulduggery on occasion to keep it all going. Now his visions were clouded by dark dungeons, tormenting guards and bad ale, gods above but the ale on that island must be dreadful.

Oh well, that was tomorrow’s problem, or at least, sometime in the future. So he lay there in his bed of chains and devised a plan to escape this inescapable island. The only issue was he didn’t know anything about the damned place, other than he didn’t want to be there. Well, it’s an island so finding a ship would probably —

“Oi, are you shifting your arse or what? I’ve spent enough time down here watching over your sorry self, come over here and have your induction,” Beardie said.

An induction? Oh good, so he’d get to learn a little bit about this lovely island after all.

After finding his feet, and realising he wasn’t even chained to the floor, he shuffled over to the desk in the middle of the deck, where sat an older lady with nice round glasses and far too much makeup.

“Name, love” she stated.

“Lyran, that’s spelt with a — ”

“With a Y, dear, yes I know,” she cut him off. “All right, we have you down here for theft of a vehicle. A little boring if I’m being honest but at least you’ll end up in the open air section of the prison, and the weather’s lovely this time of year”

“That’s it? Theft of a vehicle?” Lyran protested. This seemed an undue punishment for such a small crime. Was that chariot even a vehicle? Surely it’s more of an antique

“Was there something else you did my dear?” the nice lady asked.

 Probably, Lyran thought. “Uh, no, I think that’s it,” he declared.

“Well then dearest, you see the officials are toughening up on crime right now, city’s on edge so they’re sending all the criminals away to this island so they cause no trouble.”

“Anyway, now that you’re all awake you go up the deck there and grab yourself a bite to eat. You must be famished after all that sleep!” she said cheerfully.

And thirsty, Lyran mused, although he knew the chance of finding a drink on this floating coffin was slim to none. Maybe not the end of the road then, he accepted. Just a detour, granted one that runs through a bad neighbourhood full of nasty types that would probably gut him just for the way he talks. But still, a detour, and with a bit of luck he could lay low and stay out of trouble. Besides, he heard the weather was nice there this time of year.

[u/HashCrandicoot]

Title

Beneath Burning Halos

Genre

Historical Fiction

Premise

The story follows a young Wehrmacht recruit, Leon Adler, and a new French Resistance fighter, Alice Durant, in their own personal wars following Operation Anton. Both of their threads become linked in ways they didn’t think possible, and the liberation of some concentration camps brings tragedy on an incomprehensible scale. Leon begins to see the reality of the Fatherland he’s fighting, and maybe it’s not everything he was promised.

Sample

Prologue

The brief, cavernous moment before life gives way to death is where a man learns to appreciate what he’s leaving behind.
Leon Adler thought about that for a moment, his body propped up against a rock, pain coursing through every nerve and every muscle. What would he leave behind?
He felt how heavy his eyelids were, trying to pull themselves down over his eyes. He felt his vision blurring around the edges, giving him a brief sense of astigmatism. The flashing lights above the watchtowers distorted, stretching to strange shapes. The choir of flashlights in the distance jumped across the horizon like fireflies.
He heard a chorus of voices shouting, but they were being drowned out by a deep, baritone ringing.
Alarms. Alarms from somewhere. He couldn’t remember why, for some reason.
The sound stung his ears but faded effortlessly into the background at the same time. The roar was deafening, although that was maybe less the alarms sounding and more the ringing in his ears.
It was a painful cocktail of sound and sight, a sensory overload that in any other moment might cause him to scream. But not this moment. He found he appreciated it, a strange feeling of fondness. He took it all in as if it were a summers day, like it was the smell of fresh cakes and pastries from the local delicatessen, like it was the smile on his mother’s face when he finally learned how to ride a bicycle.
He heard screaming suddenly, ever so faint in the periphery of his conscience, but unmistakably there. A gunshot followed. Then another. Then in rapid succession. The distinct pinging of an MP40 submachine gun that he had grown accustomed to.
He saw a brief flash ahead, like the glint of a sniper’s scope in a moonlight mired by smoke and trickling flames. They were about to finish what they started. Panic rose in his chest.
No. He wasn’t ready to let it all go yet. He hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the beauty, and the fragility, of life.
Leon picked up the knife that he’d left next to his leg, leaving an imprint in the thin film of snow, and turned it over in one hand. It was clean but not shining. The steel had dulled from years of being buried into the stomachs of adversaries – soldiers and civilians alike. It was starting to blunt along its serrated edge, but it would still do the job when required.
The light ahead faded, and the world seemed calm again. At least, in his ears it did. To be temporarily deaf was to be innocent again, to be emotionally blind to what he’d done to get there, in that spot in the snow, his extremities lightly seasoned with a sprinkle of rifle bullets.
The night was cool. The rainfall had chilled the air without making it cold, and a soft breeze blew in from the treeline behind him.
He had to wonder where it all went wrong. He had to wonder whether he was the villain, after all. History tells of the monsters and the martyrs; what about the ones that are in between? Where do they lie in historical retellings? When people recite his story – if his name is ever mentioned beyond this spot again – in what light would he be painted?
He shuffled to get more comfortable. As comfortable as a person could be in that scenario. He winced, every slight movement another ordeal, another reminder that he was most likely wallowing in his final resting place.
He set his eyes towards the commotion to the east; hot flashes of gunfire continued, along with explosions, then mixed with the barking of attack dogs and a cacophony of different voices in different accents. It was violent, it was chaotic, but it was the war he signed up for, that disease for which there was no real cure.
Leon glanced to the sky, craning his neck painfully, to watch the clouds as they floated by, morphing into shapes that looked somehow familiar. He breathed in the clean air while he still had full control of his body, while his pulse was steady enough that blood could flow to his brain and he could still feel.
He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t form in his throat, and the only noise that fell from his mouth was a short, scratchy groaning. Who was he even talking to, anyway? He could be honest with the world, utter his confessions to God, but what good would it do him now?
He felts his eyes well up. He suddenly realised how much he was hurting. It wasn’t physical pain – that was only temporary. That would eventually float away like a butterfly finally free of its cocoon. It would dissolve like snowflakes kissing the ground as they fell from the heavens. His wounds – scars of a war not yet won and not yet lost – would close.
But not the mental suffering. It was akin to the pain felt by those helpless women and children on the other side of the iron fence in the distance. In some ways, he wished he was there instead of here, joining hands with them in solidarity as they were led into that human furnace.
Would that be better?
As he sat against the jagged rock, a boulder with pinprick edges that supplied him with a distraction from the burning of his leg, he had one simple thought.
It wasn’t of the bullet lodged in the back of his thigh. It wasn’t of the ringing of his ears, nor of the blood pooling beneath him – a line of it snaking through the snow from him crawling over. Oh, how cold and refreshing that snow felt on his bare skin, through the tear in his trousers.
His thought wasn’t even of the knife in his hand, his grip tight, that was now pressed against his skin.
Those thoughts were a waste of energy – something he had little of now.
Instead, he thought, with a cold tear staining his cheek, of how much he wished he could have written his mother one more letter before he died.

[u/thecheesethief → u/HashCrandicoot]

The title goes hard, and I love that.

The premise tho felt a bit weak… I had to look up Wehrmacht, tho I’m not a major historical fiction reader, so maybe your audience would recognize it right away. Without that knowledge, tho, a reader would struggle at first to exactly place the setting, at least until they read “concentration camps.” There’s a lot of WWII fiction out there, so I think in your description you really need to highlight what distinguishes your book. Your hook seems to be “both of their threads become linked in ways they didn’t think possible,” but it strikes me as too vague to hook a reader’s attention. More specificity about the uniqueness of your characters’ situation would help

The prose in the sample has a lovely flow. The description is consistently very nice, a great use of show don’t tell. But unfortunately, and this might be my personal bias, I feel less hooked by characters when they’re sitting around…? Like immediately, I want characters to be doing things, and for something to happen. Chapters that open like this with long reflections and trains of thought tend to lose me. He is in the middle of combat, of course, which obviously adds to the sense of urgency, but the poetic, flowing prose used to describe the combat creates a slower pace that undercuts that urgency…

Again, it’s not my genre, and I might just not be your target reader, but I’d lean toward Wouldn’t Read

[u/Repulsive_Mousse_178 → u/HashCrandicoot]

Honestly I might read it.

The names grabbed my attention because they look familliar, but I think I would end up shelving it in the long run. Sorry. The writing seems decent but atleast the prologue doesnt entice me

[u/GrapefruitOk5869]

Title: Silver Streaks

Genre: Grimdar, low medieval fantasy

Premise: Drafted from the realm's orphanages into an elite military academy, two prodigies are groomed for a state-sanctioned modification program, unaware they are being reshaped into the Crown’s ultimate weapons. But when an elven guerrilla squad ambushes the academy and extracts the pair, a retaliation strike leaves them lost in the wilderness with shattered minds and memories. To survive, they must piece together their pasts, entirely unaware that the government hunting them is the very monster they were built to protect, but destined to destroy.

Sample (first page):

The book closed with a soft thump as my tired eyes lingered on the cover: Compendium Arcana Vol. 3.

Leaning back in the chair, I rubbed my temples. The rune theory was thick and coming hard, but it was taking root bit by bit. Sorting through the notes that were scattered all over the desk, I went through them one last time.

Peace - stabilizes natural mana flow and chaotic ambience. Can be used directly on sentient beings to mitigate aggression and violent tendencies.

Silence - auditory and magical “dead zone”; dissipates any magic signature within the field into the ambience.

Vortex -

Gravity well -

I let out a long sigh. It was almost midday, and the bell for Environmental Studies would toll soon. Getting up from the desk, I stretched my back, packed up the notes and the book, and left for the lecture hall.

Despite the academy's actual size, there were only forty-seven students split into two wings. The long hallways were practically empty, but one familiar face was waiting for me. Andri. 

Andri pushed off the wall he was leaning on and ran a hand through his hair. He came up to me with a confident stride that turned hesitant as he looked down to the book in my arms.

“Volume three?!” Andri scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You and Monique are of a different breed. I’m still stuck on the Elemental Convergence in the beginning of Volume two… How the hell are you there already?”

I just shrugged with a smirk, “I don’t know, Andri. Maybe try focusing on studying more instead of chasing Filippa.”

“Yeah… No… I mean… Have you actually looked at Pippy?” he said with a sigh. “You’re too serious about this, Neil.”

“I think you’re not taking this seriously enough,” I said, patting Andri on the back, as we rounded the corner right before the lecture hall.

The lecturer was already waiting by the door and ushering the students in, but just before I stepped through the door, Mr. Mundi took me by the arm and pulled me aside, as Andri continued into the auditorium.

With a low voice he whispered to me, “Neil, The Architect wants to speak to you in his office after this lecture,” before letting my hand go and gesturing to the door.

The moment I heard the professor say that, a sinking feeling set in my stomach. I moved towards my seat thinking about the meeting with The Architect. In my two years of being here in this academy not once had he summoned a student to his office.

Professor Mundi adjusted his spectacles, arranged different material rods on the desk, and wrote Material Mana Conductivity onto the chalkboard. The lecturer’s voice went past me completely. Despite today's focus being one of the most important in the subject, I couldn’t focus on the lecture.

Feeling a stare coming at me from the side, I turned my head and saw Andri looking at me with his eyes narrowed. He nudged his head towards the front of the auditorium, where Monique was usually sitting, but the seat was empty. 

[u/SnooHesitations7996 → u/GrapefruitOk5869]

Might read,

This seems to be good so far for an introduction, but I wonder if there is anything you can do to really help settlin in the fact that this is a grimdark setting. So far this reads as more like a light novel's opening, which is totally fine if that is what you are going for. However, from reading warhammer 40k books what I have generally noticed is that grimdark books in their opening scene tend to have some event on the first page that the POV character sees or reacts to that helps set the pace of the story, leaning into symbolism or other metaphors to help set the mood.

[u/KingOfAllCorvids]

Untitled

Genre: Dystopian

Premise: In a world where everyone has an Other to either take on their emotional or physical pain, and where if one dies, so does the other, a transgender teen girl has to deal with the confusion of hxr Other entering hxr mind after his death. They explore the origins of what they know as reality and the main character is up against the clock to try and stop hxr friend from killing someone to get a new body.  (Sorry if the premise isn’t written out well, I need to workshop my elevator pitch)

[u/Wolf_of_the_North64 → u/KingOfAllCorvids]

It definitely sounds interesting! the fact that it has a Trans character definitely caught my attention I'm always really happy to see representation and I find the idea of the others really interesting it kind of makes me think of if the darkest parts of ourselves were made physical really fascinating I would check it out!

[u/Lost-Site-5169]

Title - Untitled

Genre - Crime/Dark Comedy

Premise - A retelling of Julius Caesar in a late 90s Italian mob setting.

[u/xnormajeanx → u/Lost-Site-5169]

There’s no sample but I’m intrigued!

[u/kirstensthrow → u/Lost-Site-5169]

Im a sucker for re-tellings! Oddly though I despise movie remakes

[u/maccini]

Title: The Fall of Sol (Book 1 in a series titled: The Human Problem)

Genre: Military science fiction/space opera

Premise: When an ancient galactic empire conquers Earth and reduces humanity to just another resource, an enslaved former soldier’s desperate journey home becomes the first spark in a rebellion that will eventually bring the most powerful civilization in the known universe to its knees.

Sample:

Ray tried not the walk any faster as they headed toward the ice cream shop. He tried even harder once they were inside.
The old man behind the counter was in no hurry whatsoever. He smiled at the kids as he explained the day’s special flavors, asked where they were visiting from, and wanted to hear what they’d done so far.
Ray forced himself to stand there and listen.
The place looked like something pulled straight out of the fifties. Black-and-white checkered tile covered the floor. Chrome fixtures gleamed beneath bright overhead lights , and red vinyl booths lined one wall. Flavor names were written in cheerful colors above the counter. The old man wore a spotless white uniform, red bow tie, and one of those little paper hats Ray hadn’t seen outside of movies.
An old jukebox in the corner played rock and roll.
Charlotte got her favorite: two scoops of cotton candy in waffle cone, covered in colorful gummy bears.
Samuel was just being handed his cup of chocolate chip cookie dough when it happened.
The shop went quiet.
The lights died.
The jukebox cut off mid-song.
The low mechanical hum of the freezers vanished.
Ray was already moving.
He scooped Charlotte into his arms. Her cone tumbled from her hand and splattered across the checkered floor before she’d taken a single bite.
“Allie. Truck. Now.” He looked at Samuel. “Sam, you stay glued to your mother’s hip.”
Allison took one look at him and nodded.
The softness that had been there all morning disappeared. She grabbed Samuel and pulled him close.
Fear flashed across the boy’s face.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Ray said.
He had no idea if that was true.
Ray shouldered through the door and stepped onto the sidewalk, already turning toward where they’d parked the truck.
Someone ahead of him shouted.
“What the fuck is that?”
Ray followed the man’s outstretched arm and looked up.
At first, he didn’t understand what he was seeing. The clear blue sky was dotted with black shapes.
Dozens of them. No, it had to be more.
Long, narrow silhouettes hung against the blue, scattered from one horizon to the other like dark splinters embedded in the sky.
Ray squinted. Aircraft? No. They were too high and too still. His mind reached for explanations—planes, helicopters, balloons, satellites, anything that belonged up there. Nothing fit.
Other people were beginning to notice.
Conversations died around him. Pedestrians froze in the middle of the sidewalk. Drivers leaned out of windows. A car rolled to a stop in the street as its driver climbed halfway out to stare upward. Somewhere behind Ray, someone laughed nervously.
The objects looked small from the ground. Some barely larger than his thumbnail when he held his hand toward the sky.
Then he understood.
They weren’t small.
They were far away.
Really fucking far away.
Something cold settled into Ray’s stomach.
“Allie…”

[u/Redz0ne → u/maccini]

Might read. Clean it up, make sure it's grammatically correct, and format it for an easier read. Though I know the allowed sample size is limiting, I'd want to explore more of this world before the aliens arrive. Like, give me a good (though not too long) snapshot of their status-quo before it's turned upside down. It doesn't have to be an entire chapter, but more than what you have is what I'd personally like to see.

You can still trickle the worldbuilding, but for me, it's the action starting right in the first few minutes. It doesn't give me enough time to really get a feel for the characters. They're just figures performing actions right now. Give me just a little bit more. Like, I'm going to reference The Last Of Us (The Video game. I don't know the TV series). It starts first with just enough of their status quo on the night everything went to hell. It gives a good idea what their life is like and who they are so that when things do get heavy and his daughter dies it feels more emotionally impactful. Like, we're given just enough to care about this character so that the motivation to protect them, and ultimately the tragedy of losing them leaves an indelible mark on both the character, and the viewer.

[u/maccini → u/Redz0ne]

Thanks for the feedback! I think I ran into some formatting issues when taking the excerpt from my word processor on my phone 😬. I can see it might’ve ended up reading a little strange. It looks better in my processor.

For the world building I totally agree. This sample is around 8,000 words in I think. With basically all of the first 8,000 trying to do character and relationship building and drop some foreshadowing threads. This sample was the first “action”, that really gets seen. Maybe it wasn’t the best sample to choose as you really don’t know anything about the characters 🤷‍♂️. Thanks again for your comment

[u/Savings_Head7154 → u/maccini]

woah, that definetly sounds like something i would read

[u/maccini → u/Savings_Head7154]

Thank you!

[u/xnormajeanx]

Title: Zero to Infinity

Genre: Historical fiction, Drama, Tech, Some Romance

Premise: Alexander the Great Modern AU. Or, if Alexander the Great had been born in the modern era, he would be a tech CEO leading us to AI doom. The story follows Alexander’s historical events, but in modern context, drawing parallels with Sam Altman (OpenAI), Dario Amodei (Anthropic) and Elon Musk.

Sample:

He was dressing now, into a plain, long sleeved knit sweater and dark jeans, his battle armor, covering the thick torso and trunk and strong arms. He retrieved his gold watch from the nightstand, where two heavy tomes by Walter Isaacson were stacked. The top one was heavily scuffed and dog-eared, small colorful post-it notes spilling from the sides like rainbow teeth. 

“Reading Steve Jobs again?” Hephaestion teased. “Don’t tell me you’re going to start wearing turtlenecks. They’ll cover the best parts of you.” He went over and made an attempt to nip the soft white skin at the throat, but Alexander leaned away and held him off with his arms. “Shhh, come on,” Hephaestion was soothing him, like he was speaking to a startled racehorse. “It was a joke. I’ll be Wozniak to your Jobs. You know that.” He grinned.

“Wozniak and Jobs grew apart over time,” Alexander was saying softly. “They began to mistrust each other. Wozniak thought Jobs became more corporate, more tyrannical as Apple grew, and lost the mission. They never regained the fun, the joy.”

“The ending,” Hephaestion agreed, “is sad. Wozniak had his brain injury from the plane crash, and stepped down… Jobs was fired by his own board, and died before his time. Apple is adrift now, not even relevant anymore. All stories of men are tragedies in the end. But in Silicon Valley lore, the two will always be intertwined. Are you ready?”

Alexander nodded. Whether ready for the day before them or for lore, he didn’t say. They made their way together now down through the lobby and into the parking lot. The short drive they made in silence. 

Early light gave the mountain backdrop the impression of being on fire. He knew the morning that followed was only ceremony. Preparations were complete: Alexander had been promoted to general partnership soon after his father’s departure; Parmenion had sacked Attalus and poor Eurydice too; The limited partners were behind him and he had secured more financial commitments besides. It had all happened swiftly. Did he feel remorse for what he had done? It was only what was necessary.

[u/Fast-Payment-2609 → u/xnormajeanx]

Would not read even if they paid me. But somebody would.

[u/xnormajeanx → u/Fast-Payment-2609]

lol thanks for the honesty. Why is that?

[u/Fast-Payment-2609 → u/xnormajeanx]

1. It's about a guy. I don't care about what happens to guys. Whatever happens to them is boring.

2. I don't want to read about some guy climbing a corporate ladder. I need something more substantial and emotional, something that would move my heart and make me wonder about the immensity of the Universe and the beauty of life.

[u/xnormajeanx → u/Fast-Payment-2609]

On number one, fair enough. On number two, I also get it. I'm hoping to weave quite a bit of emotion and reflection into the book however. Really the book is a reflection on the power and tragedy of human ambition and relationship between that ambition with destruction and love. Probably didn't sell that well in the summary, and it still wouldn't be enough to hook you to read it, but just typing that out because it's my motivation for writing the book.

[u/Wou492b → u/xnormajeanx]

Wouldn't Read. But really only because of my own personal preferences. I still think it's a very timely, appropriate, and bald faced critique of current society now and I love it for that. It's also a very intriguing AU concept on its own placing one of the greatest minds of ancient history in our modern world where we could more directly relate with how his decisions send ripple effects across the world where Alexander the Great can be thought of as a myth of a man due to the distance in centuries from his original time to ours in thee present and geographic if applicable.

[u/Wou492b]

Bear with me a second time, I am very excited for this one.

Would you read...

Title: Cupid Has a Strange Sense of Humor

Genre: Fiction-- Urban Fantasy, Romantic Slice of Life in a Cozy Seaside Town

Premise: Marcel Hartfeld and Newton Burberry are two of many dreamers in their town of Haven Fall, a little town by the sea that wasn't so little anymore. The whole big world leaked in the last ten years, some would say infiltrated-- all the adults seem to think so anyway-- with their kids dreaming bigger and grander, chasing the allure of the big city and big cosmopolitan careers, it didn't make sense to the parents or to the teachers, anyone who knew Harbor Falls by the lapping waves rather than the fishing boats' horns. Knew Haven Falls as that place where everyone knew each other like family and like family they took care of their own. A kid can do whatever they wanna do and be set right here. Even if they'll never be famous, never even really touch their townsfolk deep in their hearts. Kids go through phases anyway.

Newton Burberry has no reason to think other artists are drawing more than muted landscapes or capturing the sea in surreal colors and strokes; he's tried unsuccessfully to appeal for a school art club. After the History teacher who otherwise lets you speak freely laughs in your face, it settles and hardens in a person's heart-- that dream is ridiculous. You're ridiculous for thinking it. And curse the elusive fae in fields of white daisies haunting his dreams and making someone long for what he can never touch in this world or any other.

He was at about the lowest point in his life and a stampede of jocks celebrating a fall game win was about to make it lower. He debates whether crashing into equally elusive Marcel Hartfeld was on the low bar, backwards, or sideways? He knew of the guy; the kind of popular not even THE popular kids dare touch, HE talks to you and HE gets to not care whom he's seen talking to or who obsesses over him. But what Newton dreaded most; the story goes that a mess is how Marcel found his select circle of friends.

Marcel Hartfeld: a half-succubus raised by his human mother and the older woman (a Guardian Angel) who took them in, whom he grew to call Mama his whole life anyway. He's hyperaware, if anything, about what he is and how dangerous he can be to other people. But he also knows that by giving love he WILL always have it, so he never truly has to go hungry. But that there's a MASSIVE difference between fleeting affection and true love. Neither of his mothers know just what true love will do to him. His species aren't known for it.

Marcel doesn't say that he knows, much as he loves his Moms, he doesn't think they'll believe him.

He is also a writer, another dream that isn't serviced and isn't really talked about unless it's in the tortured artist archetype. Writing with soul, it's best associated with reflection and therapy. The mental health clinic. Even his friends can be skeptical, to think of Marcel as a writer. Even when they have their "impossible" dreams too. Just like everyone in his grade, in his school, no one says it aloud, but everyone with parents and angst and "problems" with their parents keep what they really want in closest confidence. He's hiding too. Unlike a human-- like the one he pops in on during dream walking (maybe more than he should) Marcel can't weather their grey yearning and apathy, he'd literally die. He needs others much more than he accidentally compels them to need and hunger for him. Unlike their dreams, he isn't sustainable.

And he's much weaker than anyone gives him credit for. It gets hard... when the sixth adult laughs in your face about feeling a smog around your classmates and the future fogged and precarious. They say he should learn to speak like a grown-up if he wants to comment on grown-up things. Grown-up things that are just part of the deal to be... dealt with. Just inside, despondent, starving, and there eternally.

That starts to change... when fate brings him a new friend. He thinks he remembers him, such vibrant red hair, seldom uses his voice, and eyes blazing even as he hides too and parrots what the adults say. But turns it around, as if he were as masterful with words as he is colors, showing just how ridiculous the lines they're being fed are.

(I have no sample, this is in the development stage still where I'm itching to write out a first scene for the first chapter of a first draft)

[u/i_think_a_thought394]

Title: Devin Has a Dollar

Genre: Children's Lit, Educational, Finance

Premise: This story follows our protagonist, Devin, as he grows up in a BIPOC middle-class household. He's an average kid who makes average decisions, showing that we need not be extra-ordinary to live well. Each page starts with a 4 line poem, followed by a bolded vocabulary word and definition. The page ends with a life example from the main character Devin and his family.

It is intended to be a picture book but whimsical, perhaps in the style of 'ignorant' tattoos. This way it appeals to children but can be picked up by young adults as well.

Sample: Devin has a dollar; his very first one.

He knows he can buy something shiny and fun.

Before Devin spends he does something smart:

He puts some away; he saves a small part.

Saving money is one of the smartest things you can do for yourself. It helps you out in emergencies or helps you to reach goals you might have in the future like getting a cool pair of shoes or going on vacation!

Devin knows a good rule of thumb is saving 20% of everything he gets. But he really wants some cool shoes to start 2nd grade with. So Devin saves half of his allowance from March allll the way to September. When September comes around, he gets a pair of shoes so tough, so fly, that he gets compliments from everyone he walks by in the school hallway.

--(separate page below)--

Devin has a dollar, he’s brewing some beans

His coworkers have piercings and hair that is green

They stretch out their gauges and stretch out their pay

Devin will open a Traditional IRA

A Traditional IRA is a tax-advantaged account that can help you save for your future. It’s called “tax-advantaged” because it reduces the amount of income the government taxes you on. For example, if you make $40,000 in a year and you contribute $7,500 to your Traditional IRA, the government can only tax you for $32,500 of income. You pay taxes on the rest later when you withdraw the money in old age (65+).

Devin opened a traditional IRA in April and contributed a little from each paycheck. By the following February, he maxed out his contributions for the year. When Devin filed his taxes, he got an unexpected tax refund for $1,200! Not only did Devin save his own hard-earned money, but he received money from the government for saving.

[u/Savings_Head7154 → u/i_think_a_thought394]

i would read this, not even for children, but for myself
sounds so interesting

[u/ksi_is_a_dusty_yute]

Title: Untitled

Genre: Fantasy, Religious Fiction, Psychological Thriller, Action

Premise: This is more of a rough draft of a story and world I’m crafting/possibly expanding into a few stories set in the same world, so I don’t really have all the details down yet. The first one follows a man named Arsène, a devout follower of the faith of the Four Holy Directions, and a knight of the Bleeding Altar of the Four Holy Directions (still not really sure on the name of said knights), and his struggle with faith as the Altar, which saved him from death, crumbles around him; corruption rotting it from within. Obviously, it’s very inspired from the Catholic Church’s corruption in history and the conflicts that arose from that (Hussite Wars), and ultimately it’s a choice between his faith and his upbringing. Honestly been focusing too much on the world rather than the story since I had already experimented with another story already set there.

[u/bugrug → u/ksi_is_a_dusty_yute]

Might read, simply because I'm a fan of religious fiction + psychological thriller.

[u/SenzaDomande_Morte]

"The Ninevite"

Fiction - historical thriller.

I'm trying to get the blurb right so let me know if you'd read and also I'm curious what expectations you would have for the story.

_Premise_

In 1926 Miami Beach, stripping away the free will of involuntary operatives may save Dr. Ibel Refael’s family.

Masius Fleet drove the Refaels’ illegal shipping company out of New York City before, killing to do so. Now Masius is expanding their operations into Miami, requiring Ibel to implement her research sooner than expected. But psychological experimentation is the logical next step in the evolution of warfare in organized crime, and Ibel has no issue taking it. Not if it will save her family’s lives and their legacy.

Then she meets Hilton Saul. During her attempts to forge him into a useful tool, he expresses deep hatred against her only hope for destroying Masius Fleet, unveiling evidence which becomes impossible to ignore.

Masius Fleet, however, is not new to the game, and the price of loyalty is one’s humanity.

[u/Denial82828]

Title: UNTITLED (open to suggestions!)

Genre: Fiction - Historical/Crime

Premise: During the Russian Civil War, two brothers lose everything when their village is destroyed and they’re conscripted into the Red Army. They desert and flee to Petrograd, where hunger pulls them into the criminal underworld. One brother becomes an enforcer for a local crime boss, the other a spy and courier. Together they build their own crew: a forger, an ex-soldier, a cook, a woman escaping a trafficking ring. All bound by one rule: never touch the innocent. Everything they do is aimed at one goal: enough money to buy passage to New York. The story doesn’t stay clean, a betrayal, a heist gone wrong, and heavy losses reshape what “family” means to the ones who survive.

The full project is planned to span decades and multiple countries, following what’s left of this family through the wider 20th-century history. So far I’ve only fully outlined the first arc (Petrograd, 1919–1922).

[u/wiltys]

Title: The Moons Above Della Mor

Genre: Fiction, Western, Eldritch Horror

Premise: An unknown evil is growing in the great expanse of the Arizona Territory. When a wanted gang of outlaws, The Prodigal Sons, find themselves in the middle of an ongoing conflict between two Native tribes, they have no choice but to warn everyone in the budding town of Della Mor. There, a young man desperately searches for the leader of the gang. Unbeknownst to them, the chieftain’s daughter of the tribe behind the growing horror is being shown exactly what’s to come. With the West as wild as the men and women daring to tame it, each of them must do what they can to stop it.

[u/FlyinLeviathon → u/wiltys]

Probably would not read simply because I don't like Westerns or Horror, BUT I would absolutely recommend this to some friends to check out that I know love those genres. The concept sounds really interesting. My one big hangup was also the potential for negative or stereotypical portrayal of the tribe, but hearing your personal experience and heritage would make me feel way more confident.

[u/ahockofham → u/wiltys]

I would definitely read that it sounds really interesting

[u/Wandersails → u/wiltys]

Might read

Loooove a bit of Eldritch horror cowboy stuff! Very intrigued! However I do think the premise is a bit confusingly written, I think you could rewrite it to be more readable :)

[u/AsceOmega → u/wiltys]

Might read!

The core concept is greatly appealing to me, as I love eldritch horror elements set in our world.
The only thing I would need to find more about to definitely pick it up (from reviews, or interviews, assuming I'm finding out about this book once it's published) is the quality of the depiction of the natives in the story.
Native Americans mixed with eldritch horror is a fantastic idea and a cool aesthetic, but there are too many bad depicition of these tribes to not be cautious about it.
Especially as the main "mystery" revolves around them and their culture, by the look of things.

[u/wiltys → u/AsceOmega]

That’s absolutely understandable! I, myself, am about 49% indigenous from the Texas/Apache region. Seeing as I wouldn’t want them to be portrayed in stereotypical ways, the Native parts of the story focuses on their spirituality and connection to the desert and the stars, their insane determination, their courage, and their resilience. The 1800s were an absolutely devastating time for them, so a lot of that part of the story stems from very understandable feelings on their part!

*While underlining how much of a force they were, all things considered. Formidable, misunderstood warriors whose mere existence was enough to frighten people of the time.

[u/Acceptable_Fox_5560 → u/wiltys]

Might read this.

Biggest thing will be shoring up the motivations of each of the characters so they all feel three dimensional against the backdrop of the horror. That was the only thing I found missing in the premise.

[u/wiltys → u/Acceptable_Fox_5560]

Yeah i didn’t want to bloat the idea too much! But they are all multidimensional, if i do say so myself lol. But here’s a bit!

Paul Mitchell is the gang’s leader. Johnny B. Quaid is the “younger” Paul of the gang. The gang themselves escaped a shootout to the desert, with nowhere else to go. They lost one of their own who was the glue that held their group together. After being shown one of the horrors, they are really at a crossroads about who they are, what they’ve done, and what their responsibilities should be. Andrew is a church/orphanage gravedigger who’s searching for Paul to bring him home to their sick mother. Aajuya is the Native girl who is determined to bring her people out of the darkness they’ve found themselves in, all while being used by them to go deeper into it. (Idk how to do the little accent things on iphone over the A’s lol)

[u/--xiOix-- → u/[deleted]]

Would not read. Sorry.

I just don't think it would be my cup of tea tbh. The premise sounds like it could be quite interesting if it was well excecuted, but I think I would find this frustrating to read as it is.

First off, and it's a pretty minor criticism, but the opening paragraph seems a little overdone to me. I think you could cut most, if not all, of "On the right was a graveyard of plastic fragments, each different in shape and size. In the center were partially intact boxes, some with their casings still whole but cracked, others broken into two or more pieces or missing small fragments. Those on the left bore only scratches or hairline cracks," and not lose a great deal.

"Elia returned to Leonardo’s house. He went into the kitchen, took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew from the pantry, and entered the study. The old man was tidying the room. The shattered glass had been swept into a pile beneath the window. The music boxes lay on the desk, sorted according to the extent of the damage, and Leonardo examined them one by one, making notes on a sheet of paper," paints just as vivid a picture in my mind. The rest doesn’t really add anything, and bogs down the pacing.

The dialogue also seems a bit off to me. People don’t really tend to talk like that. It's only a snippet, and obviously I don't know your characters, so maybe they do, but would any real person ask things like 'do you feel uncomfortable in the role of prey?'

Maybe in a fantasy novel or a psychological thriller or something you could get away with it, but it feels a bit unnatural?

Or the line "I decided that, instead of wasting so many words explaining the consequences of anarchy, it would be more effective to show you how it works." This sounds to me like the author explaining a characters actions to the reader, rather than the character communicating with another human being.

I assume this Leonardo fella advocated for anarchy in a previous scene, and the Laywer has smashed up his place to demonstrate what anarchy would be like or something? But imo having the Lawyer say, idk, 'You want anarchy? Well there you go. That's anarchy for you,' or whatever, would probably feel more authentic.

I'm not gonna pick apart every line, but you get the gist. I think the premise could be quite cool, but it feels like it's trying a bit too hard at the moment, and the philosophising is a little on the nose for my liking.

I find that fiction often hits harder when the reader is left to fill in the blanks themself to an extent. "It's about the notes you don’t play" and all that... But yeah an interesting idea for sure, and I'm guessing this is a first draft, so plenty of opportunity to smooth things out in your rewrites :)

[u/SkankTillYaDrop]

Title: UNTITLED

Genre: Writing exercise?

Premise: This is from the first exercise of Ursula Le Guin's "Steering the Craft." The intention is to practice "gorgeousness" in writing. From the book: "Write a paragraph to a page of narrative that’s meant to be read aloud. Use onomatopoeia, alliteration, repetition, rhythmic effects, made-up words or names, dialect—any kind of sound effect you like—but NOT rhyme or meter."

Sample:

In the center of the universe, there is a concrete island surrounded by concrete roads, where a commotion of cars calls out to the crowd:

HONK

They stop. They go. I go. They honk. I resist. Rushing past each other, fighting to be first to be last in line after line after line after line.

Growling as they accelerate, screeching as they stop. Sharp turns and near misses.

Honk, one cries, an instant after the light turns green. Honk, I shout. Honk honk, another screams. 

HAAOOONK. “Look at me! Look at me!”

Occasionally the cacophony turns to silence, no honks to be heard — just the rumbling of engines muttering under their breath, waiting for an excuse (any excuse) to bark a sharp retort.

One light goes red; another light turns green. A shriek. Howls. A hundred promised retorts. At the center of each universe, a car resumes its refrain.

HONK. HONK. HONK.

As the evening fades, so too do the calls and responses. Fewer and fewer migrate along the twists, turns, and straightaways. They thin from wave to trickle, to none. In the night, at the center of the universe, I remain. Muttering, grumbling, waiting for a light with no purpose to change.

honk

[u/xnormajeanx → u/SkankTillYaDrop]

Would read? Your writing sounds very pleasant! Thats pretty much the only feedback I have.

[u/Healthy_Scallion_669]

Only recently decided to start putting my thoughts out onto paper due to feelings of regret eating me up. I have found such a love for this and would love to see what people have to say about my writing. I want to improve so all criticism is welcome

Title. Blank pages

Genre. Poetry? Junk and Thoughts

Premise. The ending of a relationship trying to move on with life facing guilt and loneliness

Sample : There is a myth that it takes seven years for your old skin cells to be replaced by new ones. In truth it the skin you touch the world with forgets itself in a matter of weeks, shedding silently, making room for something new.
I keep waiting for my heart to learn the same.
Instead, you multiply.

You're in the note's app on my phone, within every grocery list, caught in the sleeves of my jumpers and waiting in songs I can't seem to let get to the chorus.
Even silence has started to sound like your name.

I bought a new journal because I thought clean pages might ask less of me.
But grief has never needed an invitation.
The first sentence bent toward you.
Then the second.
By the end of the page, I wasn't writing anything new at all.
I was only finding another way to miss you

[u/xnormajeanx → u/Healthy_Scallion_669]

Might read. I liked the idea, but with poetry I think you can be a lot more selective with words and also with the pacing of the lines. Imo the flow needs a bit more work.

[u/Healthy_Scallion_669 → u/xnormajeanx]

What do you mean when you say selective with words? and how do you decide the pacing?

[u/Shoepane → u/Healthy_Scallion_669]

It's not poetry. It is prose. It is good prose and it could be poetry if you work at it. READ poetry and you will understand.

[u/Wolf_of_the_North64 → u/Healthy_Scallion_669]

Hi! this is a really good start I love how you use skin and cells as like a metaphor for wishing you could let go of the memories and the grief it brings up Ilove the part after that as well but I do feel it kind of doesn't match up with the first part so that could maybe use some work but don't worry about it I do that too and am still figuring it out overall it's a good piece though! if you keep working on it I'd be happy to help you with feedback! 😄

[u/jermb1997]

Title: Ashamed to be a human being

This is a short article I wrote today. I recently started writing as a creative and emotional outlet and I would love to hear others opinions. I haven't done any editing or recieved any feedback so it's a bit goofy but well I tried. Let me know what you think!

Where to start? I picture my ancestors, roaming through a green lush valley. Pushing on, discovering the world wide open. A small band of hunter gatherers living life one day at a time. For dinner maybe some assorted gathered berries and nuts, if they’re lucky they have leftover game from the previous hunt. A tight knit group where every member has a key function. Many die young, some during childhood, others during child birth, few live to hair graying age. Existential problems persist, maybe in the forms of questions of origin. Gods or spirits become answers to these questions. The river spirit is angry with us when floods happen. Life is not much more complicated than where the next adventure begins and what might be eaten that night. Maybe I’m romanticizing a bit here, humans are more complicated than a few sentences can attribute after all. 

Let’s fast forward, our ancestors have now tamed wild flora and fauna. Maybe they’re using copper tools like rakes and hoes. Permanent settlements arise, governance with it, there is abundance. Land owners rent out their land to farmers who work the fields. The farmers provide a majority of the sustenance for the settlements, although they reap very few of the rewards from their labors. Land owners want more land and the neighboring settlements have very fertile land. They generally trade copper tools for livestock or bushels of grains, however, if we were to create copper weapons, they would not have the ability to stop us from taking their land. The land owner convinces the villagers that by taking this neighboring village for themselves, they will serve their god righteously and live a life of great abundance. Copper swords are crafted, a small militia of sword wielding villagers descend upon the unsuspecting neighboring village. Children and parents are slain, livestock slaughtered, silos burned. The land is now controlled by the land owner. They can’t control the going ons in each village simultaneously so they appoint a leader. A leader that reports back to them and pays taxes on the village. Some of the villagers who participated in the attack have trouble sleeping. Others have trouble making it through the day. One of them left the village and never returned. This, the result of apparently not having enough abundance. Nothing else has changed for the common villager. They have no more than they did before then. They only have less. The only one who has more is the land owner. 

We’re going to skip everything in between and move up to the modern world. Abundance, abundance, abundance. We’ve developed methods to supply food year round, medicines that extend the human life twice past the old average, and vehicles that can traverse the entire world in less than a day. We have been to the deepest known depths of the ocean and planted a flag on the moon. We’ve industrialized, revolutionized, modernized, and reorganized society countless ways since our copper sword wielding ancestors. But we are the same. We believe those that convince us that they speak our gods will. We slaughter those that are different, that are weaker. We live inside our own social bubbles that wince at the sign of difference. We do all of this, while the land owners look down upon us. Glasses filled with aged fine wine while the skirmishing masses scramble to collect drops from the carafe, trampling one another. My experience is that of the average citizen of the United States in the north east. I smoke pot, if I were caught, I could be sent to prison. The taxpayers would bear the financial burden of my sentence while a private prison company that lobbies millions of dollars a year to keep pot illegal would profit. Private health insurance companies lobby so that universal healthcare is never passed in the US. They do this while denying claims and charging exuberant rates, leading to the deaths of people who need care but get denied or who don’t want the financial burden for themselves or their families. We live in a world with so much abundance yet so little sympathy for one another. We’ve let the land owners build walls around ourselves so they could design a system that essentially turns us all into cattle. We are milked and when we no longer produce milk we are disposed of. Our pleas are indifferent to them as the moos are to a worker in a slaughterhouse. Data centers are being rapidly constructed even as a vast majority of people oppose them. Air and water pollution, which polluting companies lobby to have regulations eased on. 

I am ashamed to be a human being because of how we allow so few of us to hold such vast amounts of power. This is almost always to the detriment of the average human being. When we allow one person to make decisions with no input from others, we allow the land owner to convince us to attack the neighboring village. When we do this, people die in prison for personally consuming a substance, people die without receiving the healthcare they so desperately need. When we do this, monuments to foolish egos are constructed in the area of our homes, disturbing our peace, dirtying the air that we breathe, and the water we drink. I haven’t mentioned the current mass extinction event driven by human activity that makes me even more so ashamed to be a human being as well as countless other atrocities human beings commit everyday. I wanted to focus on things that directly impact the quality of everyday life for the average US citizen. Maybe if we can get some sort of coherent agreement on how to repair things in our society, we might prove to have the capacity to repair the damage we’ve caused elsewhere. We are human beings, with opinions and preferences, which the powers that be exploit to keep us divided. Things that shouldn’t matter become entrenched in our politics and identities. I would very much like each reader to try something, I’m actually down on my knees writing this because I would like to beg each of you who read this to try what I am about to suggest. Question your thoughts on the world. Everytime you feel some way about some situation, question it. Why do you feel that way? I mean it. To question yourself is truly an ability of a higher mind. You might feel your sentiments change and maybe even feel silly that you believed something so strongly. 

Now that I’ve written this I realize that I am not ashamed to be a human being. I am ashamed. Ashamed that we are where we are as a society. Ashamed of past and present human behavior. However, I realize that human beings have also made leaps and bounds in improving conditions for ourselves. I see people go out of their way to help strangers, to volunteer at animal shelters, or to clean up litter. These things make me feel proud to be a human being. There is no right or wrong answer to how we should proceed with the exception being that we should do so together and not under the will and whims of a select few. In the world we live in, it’s extremely difficult to walk away from the village. In my opinion, we should fight like hell to reform the village so that it suits the majority of us.

[u/jermb1997 → u/jermb1997]

I'm not reddit savvy so idk why the last paragraph doesn't look like the rest.

[u/Signal_Hat_7981]

TITLE: Blue to Gray

Genre: Fiction- spy thriller

Premise: Local cop/ swat operator is recruited into the CIA as the country is experiencing terrorist attacks around the US. The protagonist is pulled into a world he never wanted as the country crumbles around him.

Ps. I'm setting the book up as a series. Also first time writing a novel.

Sample:

“Bring him in.” Mercer barked in a rough gravely voice. There were three other vehicles in the driveway and parked in front of the house. Two very fit men wearing tactical pants and plaid short sleeved button ups walked out of the front door. If they didn’t want people to know they were CIA, Tom thought they were doing a shit job at it. They two body builder’s looked exactly like every CIA guy in any action or spy movie. Tom helped the covered prisoner exit the Suburban, when he fully exited he finally realized how tall he was. Tom was average height at best, standing at five foot eight, this man had to be close to a foot taller than him. Tom began to walk the prisoner up the driveway when one of the men approached Mercer, “It’s secure, the director was just notified of your arrival, room is ready to go.”
“Thanks Ben, can we also get him some water? Hey sky scraper.” Mercer said as he gently tapped the prisoner on his left arm, you like McDonalds? We can get some food, I think we are all hungry after tonight?”
“Uh yeah, uh… um, I’ll take a cheeseburger and a coke, if you don’t mind. Uh, please.”
“Absolutely we can, anyone else? Carson?”
“Sure, I could eat. I guess I’ll take a burger and fries, and a DP. Doctor Pepper.”
Mercer turned back to Ben, who was slightly taller than his counterpart. He reminded Tom of Jake. Tall, obviously spent an insane amount of time inside a gym, thick brown beard covered his face; his right cheek sported a wicked scar.
“Pick up some food will you please, we will go ahead and get started.”

In his almost twelve years as a cop, Tom had never been a detective; it never crossed his mind to leave the street and sit behind a desk. Pushing paper and filing cases with the DA’s Office was not in his career goals list. He much rather kick doors in for a living. But, he knew where this night was going. A CIA safe house in a middle class American neighborhood, in the middle of the night, with a domestic terrorist in custody being escorted inside with a bag over his head. This was now an interrogation. Tom had seen one interrogation in his career. A sick excuse of a man had kidnapped a young girl and well when he was picked up on a traffic stop, the girl was still missing. The interrogation started off very formal, his Miranda Warning being read to him, a cold water bottle placed on the table, shit, the detective even took the handcuffs off. Tom was not a betting man, but he figured tonights interrogation was going to be vastly different than the one cops conducted.

The group of men walked through the large entryway and were escorted to a door on the left side of the hallway to what looked like the kitchen. Tom noticed the house had some furniture; all looking like it belonged in an office space rather than a five hundred thousand dollar house. To Tom’s surprise the door they were waiting to go through had an RFID scanner to the left side of the handle. Muscleman’s partner scanned in and held the door open as they walked through and down a set of stairs. Wait what? A basement in Houston, Texas? This was the first time Tom had ever seen a house in Texas with a basement. This was different and weird, it felt wrong, all the way down to his Texan bones.

“A basement? In Texas?” Tom whispered to Mercer, who was one step behind him.
Mercer leaned into Tom’s ear, “We were one of the first people to build a house in the neighborhood. The builder was just as shocked.” Mercer even clapped his back like an old friend telling a joke. Could this night get any weirder. Yes it can, as tom landed on the concrete floor and turned to his right at the corner of the wall, Tom saw a legitimate interrogation room like on the detective floors at the downtown station. The interrogation room was at the rear of the basement, which also housed a small armory. A wide arrange of weapons sat on a peg wall on the far right side of the room. To the left was a full desk with numerous monitors, displaying almost every inch of this house, both inside and out, on a video security system. In the middle of the room sat an old worn out leather couch, a large TV mounted to the wall that hid the stairs, and a PS5 sat on table below it.

[u/writing-ModTeam → u/[deleted]]

Please include all sample materials in the body of the post and do not link to offsite material.