Grassroots Disc, Mark James, 11-21-04; SDC common queue

[Mark James]

Hello Everyone:
I’ve only recently joined Lit, and you’ve all made me feel so very welcome. Thank you. I’m the author of the novel, “The Iron Hand”, and the short story “Assassins After Dark” is set in the Shadowlands universe in which the novel takes place. Shadowlands is a post apocalyptic world in which men are paired with slaveboys. It is an all male, non-mainstream story that falls into the category of “edge” S&M.

I’ve posted the first 3500 words or so here. You can link to the rest of the story by following the link at the bottom of the excerpt. When you link to the story, pick up the reading at “xi”.

I have the following questions regarding the story:

1. Were there elements of the fantasy world that were difficult to follow?
2. Were the characters given enough motivation for you to understand their actions?
3. If this short story is developed into a novel, which elements/characters of the story would you like to see developed further?

Of course, general comments/questions are invited.

Mark

Five thousand years ago a great rock fell from the skies into the oceans of Earth. Waves the size of mountains crashed down on the shores of civilization, destroying the world men had made. From the ashes of destruction, New Earth arose…a brutal, hostile land…Shadowlands

Assassins After Dark
By
Mark James
i.
The banging on the door worked its way into Haken’s head like a rotten, throbbing tooth.
“Alright!” he bawled out, throwing back the matted, filthy furs he slept in.
Where the hell was the bitch?
“The World ain’t ending is it?” he said, drawing on his trousers.
The banging got louder, like maybe the man on the other side had decided to dance on the door.
“You fucking better have a Gods-cursed good reason for - ”, Haken said, yanking the door open. The words died on his lips when he saw Diogo and Valak.
“Bright morning to you,” Diogo said, smiling cheerily and walking past Haken. Valak followed, tall, silent and deadly.
“Find the bitch,” Diogo said to Valak.
“Right,” he said, disappearing into the darkness beyond the tiny room.
Diogo sat on a chair, tilted it back on two legs and put his black boots up on a rickety wooden table. He looked Haken up and down, a tall thick man whose bloated belly showed the ale he packed away every night. His sleep bleary eyes were squeezed down to tiny points in the bright morning sunlight streaming in from outside. His scent filled the small room, stale liquor, piss and a nearly overpowering odor of sweat. Great oily drops rolled down the sides of his face as he stood looking at Diogo.
There was a thud in the other room, followed by a small, yipping cry, then Valak’s low, grating voice saying, “No you don’t, bitch.”
Haken stood perfectly still as if to say, You’re not here. This is a nightmare and soon I’ll wake up and take a piss. You’re nothing but a full, aching bladder, mister.
“Your payment’s late,” Diogo said, looking at the sack of shit in front of him.
“I been meaning to come by,” Haken said. He licked his dry lips and tried a smile. He didn’t quite make it and ended up bearing his teeth in an idiot grin instead.
“Yeah?” Diogo said, looking him up and down.
His dark brown assassin’s eyes bore into Haken. Diogo’s thickly muscled body always gave him the look of a crouched tiger, poised and ready to strike, even when he was sitting with his feet up and his arms crossed against his chest.
Valak came back into the room, dragging a pale, frightened slaveboy by the arm. He backed the frantically struggling boy into a corner and let him pull away, afraid that if he held his frail arm too tight, he would break his thin bones. The boy cowered in the far corner of the room, and looked from one man to the other with green eyes round with fear. His hair, honey brown in the shaft of sunlight that stabbed into the dank rooms, fell across his pallid face, giving him the wild look of an animal caught in a trap.
“You hear that Valak? He’s been meaning to come by,” Diogo said to his friend. He’d taken out a knife and now he used it to clean his nails.
“Right,” Valak said, looking down at the boy in the corner.
His hard, angular face, nearly lost in dark shadows, showed no emotion. In the small room, he towered over the slaveboy, tall and built hard and compact somehow. He had a deadly air about him, like a cross bow always cocked and ready to deal death at a moment’s notice.
He pulled the boy from the corner, dug his long fingers into his hair and pulled his head back hard. His other hand moved eerily fast, and a knife appeared from nowhere. He pressed the cold, wickedly sharp blade to the pulse in the boy’s throat, and looked at Diogo, waiting.
The slaveboy tried to pull back from the knife, but Valak paid no mind. He pulled the boy’s hair tighter to keep him from cutting his own throat in panic. Unshed tears glistened in the boy’s soft green eyes and hung like gems in his long lashes. Tiny desperate sounds came from the slaveboy, but no words escaped his lips.
“Where’s my fucking tokens?” Diogo said, looking at the tableau of Valak and the boy.

ii.
Diogo wasn’t smiling anymore. His hard eyes had gone a cold shade, the color of freshly turned grave dirt. Haken, a one time farmer, had turned into a veteran gambler and a long term loser. He was a battle hardened veteran of every Poker table in Emyhr and far beyond. He’d spent endless summers in dark corners of shit hole taverns with whores so filthy, a man didn’t know if his cock would rot after he fucked them. And he’d come to know the look in Diogo’s eyes - deadman’s eyes.
He read the message in those inhumanly hard eyes with a kind of perfect clarity that spoke of death and bloody things to come. Pay me or die you fucking shit sack, those eyes said. And they would kill him too, just to make an example. Especially that one holding his boy, who looked like a man itching for a reason to dig his knife into hot, steaming guts. Or maybe he’d do it for no reason at all.
The veteran gambler, turned long term loser, looked from one man to the other and wished mightily that the earth would open and swallow them both.
“My friends,” he said, in his best let’s-be-reasonable voice. He smiled broadly, and this time it lit up his whole face, like sunshine coming out from clouds. He looked like the young man he used to be before he found his true calling at the bottom of a mug of ale. “I can work this out, give me time.”
“Cut the bitch,” Diogo said in a low, irritated voice. He didn’t look up from his work on his nails. “Make him scream.”
Valak increased the pressure on the knife ever so slightly. A drop of blood formed on the boy’s throat. He was used to using knives on men, that’s why what happened next took him completely by surprise.


iii.
The slaveboy went purely crazy, thrashing and screaming, begging Valak not to kill him, to please have mercy on a worthless slaveboy, please. Valak was forced to drop his knife, or the boy’s struggles would have cut his throat from ear to ear. Valak slapped the boy’s face hard, leaving a brilliant red mark on his too pale cheek.
“Quit it, you stupid bitch,” Valak yelled into his face. “Or you’ll fucking kill yourself.”
He grabbed the boy’s too thin arm again, Gods, nothing’s right about this bitch, he had time to think, and bent to get his knife, but the boy kicked out a scrawny leg and the knife went twirling across the warped, wooden floor. Valak looked at the boy. He wasn’t stupid then, just afraid.
Valak gave his arm a rough shake and the feel of the boy’s bones just beneath his skin damped his anger. The boy grimaced in pain and cringed from the blow he expected.
Valak did something he never did. That’s what kept him alive in his line of work. He acted without thinking. Without realizing he was going to do it, he swept the boy up into his arms and slung his impossibly light weight over his shoulder like the world’s lightest sack of potatoes.
The boy immediately beat his tiny fists on Valak’s back, but he was ready for that. The boy’s tunic had pulled up and his naked ass stuck out over Valak’s shoulder. He brought his big calloused hand down on the boy’s naked ass, with not even half the force his hard, muscled arm could have given the boy. But it was enough to make the slaveboy yelp and scream, until his white ass turned beet red.
“Behave bitch, or I’ll lay into you real good,” Valak said in his hoarse voice.

iv.
The boy’s struggles stopped as if a switch had turned off and Diogo saw something that gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his belly. A tiny smile touched the corners of Valak’s mouth. He looked from that hint of a smile on his friend’s face to Haken, who stood with his mouth hanging open like a door that’s come unhinged. Oh Gods, I don’t need this shit, Diogo thought.
Beads of sweat stood out on Haken’s oily forehead. His hair was scattered helter skelter from sleep, like grass grown wild. He brushed at it, as if neatness counted.
“If you got a stash Haken, now’s the time to dig it out of whatever filthy hole you got it in,” Diogo said. “Down your pants, up your ass, I don’t care. Get my fucking tokens. Now.”
“I got half,” Haken said, inching around Valak and the boy. “Half Diogo. I’ll give you the rest come Temple Day. Someone owes me.” Haken’s voice was desperate and somehow whiny at the same time.
“Nobody owes you nothing, you stinking drunk. You owe half the town and you’re in hock to the other half.”
“I swear. This sailor, he’ll be back in town come Temple Day. He owes me.”
Diogo dropped his feet to the floor, and let the chair slam to the ground. The sound was loud in the silence. The only other sound was the slaveboy’s sniveling whimpers.
“I don’t want half you lying shit sack. You got ‘til Temple Day to get me all of it. Any later and I take it out of his ass,” Diogo said, pointing to Haken’s slaveboy. “Bring the bitch, Valak.”
“Hey, wait,” Haken said. “The bitch’s worth five - no - ten times what I owe you.” He started to go after the men and his boy.
Valak put the boy down and pushed him toward Diogo. He headed for Haken and both men met in the middle of the darkly shadowed room.
“No!” Diogo cried out. “Valak, back off him.”
But it was as if Diogo had said nothing. Valak grabbed Haken’s shoulders and jammed his right knee viciously into the other man’s crotch. Haken doubled over, screaming. Valak grabbed his hair and whispered into his ear, “Don’t pay shit sack. I’ll enjoy coming for you.” He let him go and stood back as Haken crumbled to the floor, holding his balls and gasping for breath.
Valak turned to the boy and grabbed his skinny arm. He bent low so he was eye to eye with the boy. “You going to fuck with me?”
The boy shook his head back and forth slowly, watching Valak warily, like a lion that might pounce and eat him. He looked past Valak to his Master, still squirming on the floor, then tore his eyes away and looked at Valak again. The tears in his eyes slipped down his cheeks. Valak wiped the boy’s wet cheeks with the back of his hand.
“Do what I say and I won’t hurt you,” he told the scared boy. He picked up his knife and held it up in front of the boy. “Fuck with me, and I’ll cut on you just for fun. You got me?”
The slaveboy nodded enthusiastically. Valak thought if the boy shook his head any harder, it might fall right off his body.
He held out his hand and after a moment’s thought, the boy took it obediently and went with Valak out into Emyhr’s bright morning sunshine. Diogo marveled at that. He could have never gotten the boy to take his hand. He would have to take him by force.
Just before they left, Valak gave Haken a sidelong look that Diogo knew better than he wanted to – cutter’s eyes. Haken was too busy writhing on the floor, trying to catch his breath, to see his coming fate in Valak’s furious eyes.

v.
“Siri,” the boy had said in a kind of oh Gods, I’m fucked voice when Diogo asked his name. He sat on the floor beside Diogo’s writing table in the back room of the whorehouse. It was a grotto like room, with a low ceiling, carved out of the dark stone behind the whorehouse. Two torches burned on the wall behind Diogo. The dark walls and ceiling had a fine dusting of soot from countless torches.
Besides the massive table, the only other furniture in the room was two cherry wood straight back chairs that matched the table. The dark red wood glowed with a mellow gleam that made the stark black walls look more like a room and less like a stone crypt. Diogo slid a beat up leather pouch from a drawer, pushed aside the papers on his desk, and started rolling a smoke.
“That shit will kill you,” Valak said.
Diogo shrugged. “If you got a point, make it.”
It was an old joke between them.
Valak, who didn’t hurt slaveboys for the sake of it, had bought the boy a plate of sausages, bread cakes and scrambled eggs. Siri shoveled the food down his throat, with hardly a pause in his mouth, with almost alarming speed.
Diogo and Valak exchanged a silent glance.
“For the love of the crops boy, when’s the last time you ate?” Valak said.
The boy paused a moment, a thick bread cake wrapped around a sausage that dripped oil poised at his lips, thinking.
“Yesterday Sir. Master had meat last night,” the boy said. “He gave me bread and gravy.” His face brightened. “All the gravy.”
He popped the sausage and bread into his mouth, making his cheeks bulge comically.
“Well slow down. You’re not worth anything dead, you know,” Valak said with a rough edge in his voice.
His boys were used to Valak’s rough ways. They knew when their Handler was mildly annoyed, and when he was about to whip some serious ass. But Siri wasn’t one of his boys. A shadow of fear crossed the slaveboy’s pale face. The memory of Valak’s cold knife pressed to his throat haunted his eyes.
“Go on boy, eat,” Valak said in a softer voice. “I’ll bring you more if you gobble it all.”
The boy looked at him, unbelieving. “You would do that Sir?”
Valak nodded. “Yeah. So slow down. I mean it.”
Diogo saw a look on his friend’s face that he had come to know and dread.
“No,” Diogo said, making the word two syllables. He shot up his forefinger, ticking it back and forth. “Don’t be thinking of it.”
“What?” Valak said, his eyes wide, his hands spread, palms up.
“Don’t be looking at him like a stray pup. Our stable’s full.”
The soft stray pup look vanished from Valak’s face and that hard, dangerous look that was never far, came into his eyes. Cutter’s eyes, Diogo called them. That’s how Valak looked when he was carving up a screaming man like a Gods- Blessed Feast Day bird.
“Haken’s scum,” Valak said.
Diogo let it go. Countless summers of friendship had taught him not to argue with those cutter’s eyes.
All this seemed to go by the boy, who went on eating without looking up at the men. Outside, seven bells rang.
“Call them in,” Diogo said. “Let’s take care of this. Daylight’s wasting.”
The boy spared Valak no glance when he left. Diogo sat back with the air of a man at a particularly good magic show and watched the boy stuff another tremendous bread wrapped sausage into his mouth.
The moment the boy swallowed the last of the food, he looked afraid again. He wiped the crumbs from his soft lips and knelt between Diogo’s legs looking more scared than ever.
“You going to sell me off, Sir? To Tooth n’ Claw?”
The boy misread the surprise on Diogo’s face and started apologizing.
“I’m sorry Sir. I didn’t mean no disrespect Sir. I know it’s your decision Sir. Please Sir, I - ”
“What makes you say that boy?” Diogo said, studying the boy close.
Siri squirmed under his hard gaze and shrugged and looked down at Diogo’s boots. “Master’s always saying he’d sell me if I was worth anything. Always says a place like Tooth n’ Claw is where a useless slut like me belongs.” Tears slipped from the boy’s big green eyes. “Is that where you’re selling me?”
Diogo was no good at handling slaveboys. Anything he said or did made things worse. He wished like hell Valak would hurry up.
“I’m not selling you anywhere boy. I’m giving you back as soon as your Master pays me.”
The boy’s tears began in earnest. Gods-damn it, Diogo thought, where the fuck’s Valak?
“Softly boy. You’ll be home before - ”
“He won’t pay you,” Siri shouted in a high screechy voice that grated on Diogo’s ears. “He probably left town already. He’ll be on the first ship out.”
“You’re wrong boy,” Diogo said quietly. “No one would do that to me. He’ll pay, and come Temple Day you’ll be back home.”
“Yeah,” the slaveboy said, and sat at Diogo’s feet and cried into his hands.
Valak walked in. The relief on Diogo’s face was ecstasy, salvation.
“They’re coming,” his Handler said. He was about to say more, but he caught the look on Diogo’s face. “What’s up?”
Diogo told him. In a few minutes, by some magic that made Valak the best Handler Diogo knew, he had the boy smiling. It was a small smile, but it was better than anything Diogo could have done.
Siri knelt at Valak’s feet, fiddling with the man’s trousers in a way that would have annoyed Diogo beyond all reason. He didn’t know how Valak did it. Slaveboys all over him all the time, with their petty nonsense – this one took that, he said this, it wasn’t me, he got more cake than me - bawling, laughing, noisy. He cringed inside at the thought.
Valak watched over the whores with a savage passion that was nearly frightening. The boys adored him. They obeyed Diogo out of fear, but they followed Valak’s least command out of gratitude.
With men Valak was a murderer, a torturer and a ruthless enemy. With slaveboys he was a benign God who ruled fairly and whipped ass like the Devil Man himself. Every time Diogo thought he had Valak figured out, he’d see him with some new pretty he’d bought for the whores or a silly scrap of rug they’d begged him for.
Yet it was Valak who had talked him into the Kathara cut. The whorehouse had become rich because of it. Valak didn’t seem to mind the look of fear and suffering that came into whores’ eyes every night when it came time to serve. If anything, he seemed to think the horror in their eyes belonged there, that they would be somehow incomplete without it.
Diogo talked a lot of shit about selling off the whores, but he knew Valak would skin him alive and boil him in oil if he sold even one of the boy whores. In the way of men whose friendship was born in the bloody brotherhood of the battlefield, the men had split the business between them without speaking of it. Diogo managed the money side, Valak managed the whores.
His Handler was a deep one. After nearly half a lifetime of friendship, Diogo was still never sure what dark thoughts went on behind those cutter’s eyes.


vi.
The whores came trooping in, quiet and nervous, as they always were around Diogo. He leaned against his desk, watching them walk in and kneel in front of him in a half moon. He didn’t know why they were so afraid of him. He rarely beat them. He left that to Valak.
In the small room, Tashir came too close to Diogo’s desk and brushed some papers off. The boy tried to save them and an inkwell went toppling to the floor, spilling across Diogo’s trousers. The boy whore looked up at Diogo, horrified. He tried to clean the ink and succeeded only in making bigger stains, leaving handprints all over the trousers.
“I’m sorry Bahari,” the boy kept saying. “Sorry.”
The boys never called Diogo by name. Bahari was from the High Speech and translated roughly to ‘Great Sir’ or ‘Lord’.
Diogo jerked his leg out of Tashir’s reach. “Get off me bitch,” he said through clenched teeth.
The boy paled and shoved his hands behind his back like Diogo’s trousers had caught fire.
“Yes Sir,” Tashir said miserably. “Sorry. I’m real sorry Sir. About your trousers and all.”
Valak watched in silence. This kind of thing always happened to Diogo around the boys. Once, a whore spilled cold soup into Diogo’s lap. It had taken Valak hours to coax the boy out of hiding. He took pity on his friend, who looked ready to slap Tashir into roughly the middle of next week.
“Tashi. To me,” Valak said, snapping his fingers and pointing to the floor beside him, opposite Siri.
The boy hurried to Valak. Anything was better than the look on Diogo’s face. Even the beating Tashir knew was coming.


Assassins After Dark

 

[CharleyH]

Hi Mark. This is going to sound a bit harsh, but please take it as helpful, since that is my intention. I do not separate my comments into three sections specifically answering your questions, but I do believe that I have answered them. It is a fine start, and there are many elements you will have to work out. Good luck.

1. Were there elements of the fantasy world that were difficult to follow?
2. Were the characters given enough motivation for you to understand their actions?
3. If this short story is developed into a novel, which elements/characters of the story would you like to see developed further?

I understand the conventions of the genre, but felt that there were a lot of clichés that you could have happily done without, or perhaps used better to your advantage by making them fresher. Like the beginning for example. Five thousand years ago a great rock fell from the skies into the oceans of Earth. Waves the size of mountains crashed down on the shores of civilization, destroying the world men had made. From the ashes of destruction, New Earth arose…a brutal, hostile land…Shadowlands
I would use this kind of beginning in a satire, or I would create something new because it sounds like the same beginning from just about every B-movie I have watched.

Others:
· giving him the wild look of an animal caught in a trap.
· He’d taken out a knife and now he used it to clean his nails.

“Alright!” he bawled out . . . I think more succinctly he yelled. There is no need to get creative by using bawled.

Where the hell was the bitch? I’d use something here to indicate internal thought. My choice has always been single quotes, but others would say italics.

… dance on the door.
dance on the door gives me an impression of ballroom, and I doubt this is the image you want. You have stated this is a brutal land, so I would use more brutal imagery.

Diogo sat on a chair, tilted it back on two legs and put his black boots up on a rickety wooden table.
I like this description, but would like more. You have not described the room to me, and so I am having a hard time placing it. I think adding a general atmosphere of the environment he lives in would add a great deal to the kind of character he is, and also give the reader a clearer sense of the kind of world he lives in. Perhaps, (as you describe him next as ale drinking) there are cans or bottles or some instruments from which he drinks this ale. If it is packaged, then one has to assume civilization is somewhat similar, or perhaps it is home made? But you draw my attention to the ale, so I do want to know more, and for the same reason I’d like a description.

Note: His sleep bleary eyes
They are practically the same thing. I would discard sleep.

Haken stood perfectly still as if to say, You’re not here. This is a nightmare and soon I’ll wake up and take a piss. You’re nothing but a full, aching bladder, mister.
Again, you need to better indicate this as a thought. I also find it a bit long and distracting.

“Your payment’s late,” Diogo said, looking at the sack of shit in front of him.
Careful of phrasing. Since you use a lot of references to piss and such, it sounds like there is literally a sack of shit in front of him. On this note, I suggest once you have reworked the story to your liking, you should pass it through an editor.

Most of your descriptions of the characters are quite vivid. I like that, but sometimes I think you go overboard:
He pressed the cold, wickedly sharp blade to the pulse in the boy’s throat, and looked at Diogo, waiting.
Wickedly is too much here.

Diogo wasn’t smiling anymore. His hard eyes had gone a cold shade, the color of freshly turned grave dirt.
The description of cold and grave dirt conflict for me. At first I think blue, and then I am thrown. I think: His eyes turned dead like grave dirt would work better.

Haken, a one time farmer, had turned into a veteran gambler and a long term loser.
First off, I think you mean long time loser. Second, this just isn’t enough description for me. I understand that sci-fi often uses conventions of the western genre, but I feel strongly that if you are going to use these conventions, then you need to update them. Is this the 1800’s? What does farming mean? What do they farm? What kind of gambling? Just the same old?

The veteran gambler, turned long term loser, looked from one man to the other…
Redundant – no need to say it again.

“My friends,” he said, in his best let’s-be-reasonable voice. He smiled broadly, and this time it lit up his whole face, like sunshine coming out from clouds.
You have a tendency to inject these sunny, nice world things that remind me of a musical. I’d use a modified version of the same thing that gives it a raw kind of smile that one expects to find in such a harsh environment.

The slaveboy went purely crazy, thrashing and screaming, begging Valak not to kill him, to please have mercy on a worthless slaveboy, please. Valak was forced to drop his knife, or the boy’s struggles would have cut his throat from ear to ear.
You do a lot of telling in this story, and I think it could be better told by showing. Example:

The slave boy went crazy, thrashing and screaming, “Please don’t kill me.”
Valak was forced to drop his knife, or the boy’s struggles would have cut his throat from ear to ear.
“Please have mercy on a worthless slave boy, please,” he begged.

You need to explain the tokens much earlier. I did not understand why they were desperate for them, why they were so valuable, and felt that since this was the root of their violence at the moment, then it needs to be explained. Is it money?

“I swear. This sailor, he’ll be back in town come Temple Day. He owes me.” Diogo dropped his feet to the floor, and let the chair slam to the ground. The sound was loud in the silence. The only other sound was the slaveboy’s snivelling whimpers.

This is one example of where you could better describe your actions, and clean up the grammar a bit. Believe me, I am not a grammatical whiz, but . . .

“I swear, this sailor? He’ll be back in town come Temple Day. He owes me,” Diogo said dropping his feet to the floor. The chair slammed, breaking the snivelling whimpers of the slave boy in the corner.”

Of course it depends on your intention, but there is hardly silence when there is snivelling.

The eating scene is a bit problematic. I do like the description of Diogo, and of what is being eaten (again grammar) but I had a problem picturing him afraid when he was so eagerly and happily eating. I also felt there was a contradiction. One moment the boy is being told not to eat because he might die, and isn’t worth anything dead, and the next moment he is told he will be brought more if he eats it all.

No,” Diogo said, making the word two syllables.
I simply do not understand this.

I think you mixed up Diogo and Vale when the slave boy was saying his Master would not pay. You will have to check Part V again. (I’d point to it, but am doing this in word and already erased that part.)

Note: the Kathara cut. Is this the name of the whorehouse? If so, you need to use Caps Kathara Cut.

Are the whores boys? I immediately think of women. You might want to clarify the first time you use the term whore, and also, you might want to distinguish between a whore and a slave.

You refer to ‘the High Speech.’ I would like to know more about this. What other kinds of languages are there, and why won’t Diogo use it?

 

[Penelope Street]

Well Done; just not my kind of story.

Mark,

Regarding the direct questions:

1. Were there elements of the fantasy world that were difficult to follow?

I didn't have any real trouble with the setting. The story could have been set in a SciFi or Fantasy word and works just as well in either.

2. Were the characters given enough motivation for you to understand their actions?

I was willing to believe these characters. I was also willing to believe someone should do their world a favor and kill them all.

3. If this short story is developed into a novel, which elements/characters of the story would you like to see developed further?

Whose story would this be if expanded? I don't care to know much about what happens to Haken, Diogo, or Valak.

Your characters are well-drawn enough and the dialogue reasonable, even lively at times.

The universe is mysterious enough to be interesting. I thought the setting had the correct, edgy, feel. Your skills as a story teller are indeed impressive, yet I still did not enjoy the tale mostly because I didn't find any of the characters sympathetic.

The character I was most inclined to bond with was Siri. But he's a minor player in this tale and his dilemma is only partially resolved. Even if Valak will take him in, I didn't find that a resolution to stir me in any way.

The three men in the story are all despicable. I realize this was most likely your intention and kudos to you if that is the case, but by the time I realized the story was wrapping up I was thinking the only possible happy ending would be a second meteor strike that finished what the first one started.

In spite of my loathing of the characters, I though the narrative was well done, had a good pace, and was easy enough to follow.

I did have a few questions/issues.

Why does the story start with Haken anyway, to then ignore him?

The scene where Siri proceeds to eat with some haste. Initially he is instructed to slow down, then he is told he can have more. I gathered that the two were for some reason concerned about his rate of consumption, rather than the volume. This seemed an odd worry.

Near the end we learn a bit of the Kathara cut. I took this to be the name of an anus-narrowing modification. Correct? And this is the reason anal sex is so painful for the boys even though they perform the act multiple times on a daily basis? I have a few problems with this, especially since it seems to be an underlying cause of the slaveboy's rebellion.

First, I don't believe any such modification would be necessary. Granted, I'll personally never know what the penetrator's experience is like during anal sex, or any sex for that matter. Given that, all I have read and heard indicates the sphincters of young adults are plenty snug enough as they come- no modification required. Given the apparent technology available, such an operation does seem like it would be expensive, dangerous (to the subject), and above all unnecessary.

Second, I'm not quite buying the slaves's behavior regarding the pain associated with being penetrated, regardless of whether or not they have been surgically altered. So they entertain four men in this fashion. Why would the fifth be so much additional burden so as to warrant rebellion, especially if they think they live well for slaves ? And this fear of being sodomized by Valak at the altar; what is he THAT big? (Didn't seem that big to me, but maybe I've just been lucky with men ;-) Or he just scary?

I believe if any human is subjected to the same pain day after day, their body will adjust. I'm not saying that it would be any less painful, but it ought be more bearable. Just a conjecture, mind you, I've never been in that situation.

Given my disposition and inclinations, gay male stories are not likely to interest me, so I am not your target audience anyway. I do however like a seedy BDSM tale now and then, yet somehow this one never stirred me.

Even given these reservations, I still thought it was an admirable effort- assuming your intention was to create shady characters that are the product of a harsh society.

Take Care,
Penny

 

[Mark James]

Thanks for the comments

The three men in the story are all despicable. I realize this was most likely your intention and kudos to you if that is the case, but by the time I realized the story was wrapping up I was thinking the only possible happy ending would be a second meteor strike that finished what the first one started.

Since it was my intention to create men who were utterly despicable characters, I appreciate that. Thank you.

Why does the story start with Haken anyway, to then ignore him?

I started the story with Haken to use him to introduce the reader to the world, to Diogo and Valak and to show what kind of men they are. At novel length, his scene will not seem as weighty as it does here, because it will comprise significantly less of the narrative. Haken is what I call a "throw away" character.

The scene where Siri proceeds to eat with some haste. Initially he is instructed to slow down, then he is told he can have more. I gathered that the two were for some reason concerned about his rate of consumption, rather than the volume. This seemed an odd worry.

They're concerned about how fast he eats, because, like Valak says, Siri isn't worth anything dead. That is to say, if he chokes, they've lost their investment. Thank you. I'll work on making that aspect more clear.

Near the end we learn a bit of the Kathara cut. I took this to be the name of an anus-narrowing modification. Correct? And this is the reason anal sex is so painful for the boys even though they perform the act multiple times on a daily basis?

Yes. It is an anal modification. Suffice to say about this topic that if you had experienced it directly, (or known someone who has)you would understand why they would find one more man a, ahhh...hardship. No pun intended.

I have it from reliable sources that even two men a day would be enough to make life for them pretty bad.

As to the issue of whether or not it's necessary, no, it's not. However, this is an S&M story, and it's a sadistic thing to do, so...

And this fear of being sodomized by Valak at the altar; what is he THAT big? (Didn't seem that big to me, but maybe I've just been lucky with men ;-) Or he just scary?

He's scary. Or at least he should be. I wrote him to be very scary. And again, Penny, this is an S&M story, so the idea is to make things scary for the slaveboys. If you put together a man who's sadistic, likes rape and has complete and total control over seven slaveboys, you get one scary dude. Or, at least it is my intention that you do.

Even given these reservations, I still thought it was an admirable effort- assuming your intention was to create shady characters that are the product of a harsh society.

Yes, it was my intention. Thank you. Very kind of you to say so.

Thanks for your insightful comments. Much appreciated.

It's always good for me to hear from people whose main interest isn't S&M or male/male stories. People like you tend to focus more on the writing, and on story as story, rather than other elements. So, you 've been a big help.

Thank you

Mark

 

[MLyons]

.

 

[MLyons]

.

 

[hiddenself]

I read the first Lit page (up to vi) and it wasn't too bad.

I disagree with a lot that CharleyH said.

I don't think there's that much telling. But prhaps you could tighten up some descriptions.

The slaveboy went purely crazy, thrashing and screaming, begging Valak not to kill him, to please have mercy on a worthless slaveboy, please. Valak was forced to drop his knife, or the boy's struggles would have cut his throat from ear to ear. Valak slapped the boy's face hard, leaving a brilliant red mark on his too pale cheek.

"Purely" crazy? What does this mean? Is there an "impurely" crazy?
Couldn't you actually give the dialogue, instead of a narrative?

The elements were quite clear to me. No, I don't need more details on tokens and such. It is obvious to me that Haken owes the intruders quite a sum. Perhaps later in the story, we might get more info if that's crucial to the plot. Other details about life in the Shadowlands would be welcome but it might be wise to dole them out as the story unfolds. Otherwise, you risk overwhelming the reader with detail that he/she can't absorb.

My main problem with the story is that it's slow and seems a bit aimless. I suppose you are building characterization and that's fine (by the way, Diogo and especially Valak do not seem terribly offensive to me). But you seem to lack a detailed vision about the world your characters live in. Somehow, I get the impression that you are winging it as you go. And after reading a page and a half, I am lost as to what the story is about. What's the message?

As MLyons said, the story lacks depth and imagery. We are left outside looking at a caricature world -- somehow, we do not get immersed in it and it does not come alive for us.

 

[Mark James]

Target Audience

Charley:

As a general comment on your comments, I find that you lack imagination as a reader. You seem to read stories the way English Professors read papers. That's not a slam, just an observation. That being the case, I found that your comments were just this side of useless for reasons which I will enumerate below.

would use this kind of beginning in a satire, or I would create something new because it sounds like the same beginning from just about every B-movie I have watched.

That may be true. However, I find "B-movies" highly entertaining. I'm a male writer writing male/male erotica, not Hemingway or Fitzgerald writing the great American novel. "B-Movie"? Ok. Thanks I take that as a compliment. I love to be entertained by what I read.

There is no need to get creative by using bawled

At the risk of stating the obvious, writing is a creative activity.

I’d use something here to indicate internal thought. My choice has always been single quotes, but others would use italics.

I dont' know how to use italics in the .txt format. It is formatted in the printed/MS Word version.

dance on the door gives me an impression of ballroom, and I doubt this is the image you want. You have stated this is a brutal land, so I would use more brutal imagery.

There's enough brutal imagery spread throughout the world. You thought of ball room dancing, I'm not sure how many male members of my gay target audience would make that same association. The contrast also serves to heighten the brutality of the world.

I like this description, but would like more description here.

I gave enough of an idea for a reader with imagination to fill in the rest. I've already addressed that problem with you as a reader above. The demands that you make for description are reminiscent of Anne Rice. I don't care to describe the bottles on the floor or anything else. It's dark, dirty, and has rickety furniture. I'm not Anne Rice. I don't need to describe every tiniest detail to my reader. I have enough confidence in my writing to trust my reader.

Careful of phrasing. Since you use a lot of references to piss and such, it sounds like there is literally a sack of shit in front of him.

Again, only the most unimaginative of readers would actually think there's a sack of shit standing there. What possible sense does that make? How have I led the reader to that conclusion? You really ought to check out Stephen King or Charles Dickens, whatever your preference.

Wickedly is too much here.

Perhaps.

You do a lot of telling in this story, and I think it could be better told by showing.

I do a minimal amount of telling. I use interior dialogue instead. I use telling to change the pace of the story. And I use it quite sparingly.

The description of cold and grave dirt conflict for me. At first I think blue, and then I am thrown.

What is the connection between "blue" and "cold"? You lost me.

This is one example of where you could better describe your actions, and clean up the grammar a bit. Believe me, I am not a grammatical whiz, but . . .

Why would a character who's a low life drunk speak well in correct grammar? Now you've really lost me.

I find this comment to be obtuse. This isn't an English essay. Art is never precise.

You have a tendency to inject these sunny, nice world things that remind me of a musical. I’d use a modified version of the same thing that gives it a raw kind of smile that one expects to find in such a harsh environment

For a reader with imagination, the contract between the sunny smile and his desperate dilemma would bring out the harsh brutality of the world. If, by this comment, you mean to say that I didn't make it clear how much of a loser/gambler Haken is, then that's something that can be addressed as another matter.

First off, I think you mean long time loser. Second, this just isn’t enough description for me. I understand that sci-fi often uses conventions of the western genre, but I feel strongly that if you are going to use these conventions, then you need to update them. Is this the 1800’s? What does farming mean? What do they farm? What kind of gambling? Just the same old?

No. I didn't mean that. Not enough description? Did you read the previous pages describing his gambling career? I'm not borrowing from the Western genre. What leads you to believe it's the 1800's? Farming means growing food in the ground. It's always meant that. Gambling has always meant the same thing. What difference does it make if it's dice, feathers or a wheel of fortune?

I simply do not understand this.

I'm not surprised. You took the quotation out of context. Why do you think I'm mixing up characters. Which part don't you understand? Making "no" two syllables? Or saying no to the look on Valak's face? Was the dialogue that followed (in context) too difficult to follow?

Are these whore boys? I immediately thought of women the whole way through the story, even though I know the intention is gay. You might want to clarify the first time you use the term whore, and also, you might want to distinguish between a whore and a slave.

You're kidding right? What? Didn't I use the word "boy" enough?

What makes you think there's a difference between a whore and a slave? I remind you again, creative writing is not an English essay nor does precise use of language make a good writer or a good story or a good narrative. All it does is prove that the writer has a good vocabulary, and probably no talent.

The eating scene is a bit problematic.

I find this to be a valid comment. I thought the dialogue made it clear that Valak wants him to eat as much as he wants, as long as he doesn't choke on it. However, you're the second person to point that out.

Note: the Kathara cut. Is this the name of the whorehouse? If so, you need to use caps: Kathara Cut.

No. It's not the name of the whore house. Capitalization of that sort is a matter of custom/convention. No. I don't have to. It's sci fi. I make my own conventions.

You refer to ‘the High Speech.’ I would like to know more about this. What other kinds of languages are there, and why won’t Diogo use it?

Interesting point. Is the High Speech really that important to you as a reader, or as part of the story?

Your comments did provide one valuable lesson. You have truly taught me the importance of an imaginative reader.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

OK... No need to waste time here.

 

[BlackShanglan]

Re: Target Audience

Charley:

As a general comment on your comments, I find that you lack imagination as a reader. You seem to read stories the way English Professors read papers. That's not a slam, just an observation. That being the case, I found that your comments were just this side of useless for reasons which I will enumerate below.

Just a word to the wise comment here - I was going to read this and give some suggestions, as it had been some time since I gave feedback on a work on the SDC. However, this specific comment made me decide not to. You may not agree with Charley's comments, but I doubt many people wish to put as much time and thought into comments as she did only to be publically insulted. Personally, I also find it pointless to give feedback to someone who spends so much time rebutting every suggestion; it implies to me that the author actually does not seek to improve the piece, only to justify it and/or receive glowing praise. In that case, the Story Feedback thread might be a better location for this work; the "grassroots discussion" list is generally for works in progress whose authors wish to receive feedback aimed at changing and improving the work.

Shanglan

 

[Mark James]

Reply

I wrote what I thought about Charley's comments. It seemed to me that many of the comments made were not about the story, but rather about personal preference without a legitimate basis.

I did not react that way to Penney. I thought her comments were well placed and appropriate.

If Charley doesn't want to risk being publicly insulted, then she shouldn't try to use her skill with words to shred someone's work needlessly.

If I sought "glowing praise" as you put it, I would have posted to a board that only had gay men who enjoy S/M stories. I've already done that. And yes, I did get glowing praise. I don't need reinforcement about my writing skills, as I'm already a published author of a best selling S/M novel, soon to be followed by the sequel, which is a work in progress.

That was not my goal. However, as I said, the comments that I responded to were not aimed at improving the story. They were aimed at displaying verbal skill.

And, you're quite wrong. Penney gave a thoughtful analysis of the story. Charley gave a thoughtful analysis of an English essay, which is not what I'm writing.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Re: Re: Target Audience

Just a word to the wise comment here - I was going to read this and give some suggestions, as it had been some time since I gave feedback on a work on the SDC. However, this specific comment made me decide not to.

I don't know. I quite liked the "why should you as a reader care one way or another" at the end (edited out now).

I have a couple of comments too, but they require an imaginative reader.

 

[BlackShanglan]

Re: Re: Re: Target Audience

I don't know. I quite liked the "why should you as a reader care one way or another" at the end (edited out now).

I have a couple of comments too, but they require an imaginative reader.

I'm imagining

 

[hiddenself]

Perhaps, but...

MJ, perhaps a more politic response might be wiser. I typically find CharleyH's comments and critiques off the mark, so I essentially agree with you on the substance of the feedback you got. But, you have to recognize the effort irrespective of the (perceived) quality of the critique. This is, after all, a feedback forum, and you are asking for a favor from the reader. It is counterproductive for you (to say the least) to respond the way you have.

PS Oh, and do take the time to find out the dynamics in any environment where you're a newbie. No hard feelings, just some friendly criticism.

 

[CharleyH]

Sigh.

Wow.

What can I say?

I usually laugh at ignorance, and I’d have continued to laugh in silence at what you have written here, but a rather fed up smile crosses my lips as I read your rather (edited=) absurd PM and other . . .

You have humiliated yourself beyond your sight.

I fail to see why you bothered naming yourself anonymous, since you quote yourself (edit) verbatim, nonetheless there is humourous irony in anonymity.

(Note: I have deleted a quote from the source, because I was irritable that day, and knee jerky - I have resumed calm.)

Thank you Mark James, but I will not return the favour.

Truly, Femme Incomprise

 

[CharleyH]

Re: Perhaps, but...

Hiddenself
I typically find CharleyH's comments and critiques off the mark, so I essentially agree with you on the substance of the feedback you got.

While I am here, I might as well address this. By agreeing with MLyons, you have agreed with almost everything I said, since MLyons specifically stated that he concurred with practically all of my sentiments.

I respect your review, but not the insult.

 

[BlackShanglan]

Even comments that at first seem off the mark can have their value. When "Letters from the Hesperus" was up for review, I did receive some comments, both publically posted and privately, that I initially resisted and very nearly dismissed. Some of them still appear to me to be off the mark; one person in particular seemed to have a very different idea of what the story should be about, and it was not the first time I thought that that individual had badly misread a story.

With time, however, I learned to see that we simply wanted quite different things out of erotic fiction. Once I'd realized where the author was coming from, I was able to look past our differences in opinion on what the work should accomplish and realize that there were, in fact, useful elements to the critique. It was especially helpful to lay it side-by-side with other comments that had seemed more immediately applicable and to seek out the common threads. Once I did, I found myself surprised but grateful as I ended up incorporating suggestions even from a review that at first, admittedly, I resented and dismissed.

Fortunately, I kept those thoughts to myself. I am very glad now that I did. They would have shown the weakness of my own approach and would have offended a generous and insightful reviewer whose critical skills helped me to improve my work.

Shanglan

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Re: Perhaps, but...

I typically find CharleyH's comments and critiques off the mark, so I essentially agree with you on the substance of the feedback you got.

You know, I wasn't going to say anything else, because it's painfully obvious that Mark doesn't require any critical comments, but I had been reading this thread, both the story and the reviews, for a few days, while trying to formulate my thoughts on it. I always held a great respect for you and your views, in the past, so don't take this the wrong way, but when I reached your first post here, I was perplexed.*

Personally, I don't agree with everything Charley said. I don't think, for example, that it should be necessary to indicate internal thought in any graphical manner. I don't have a problem with 'bawled out' for 'yelled', other than what such choices indicate.

Most of the rest of her comments, though, illustrate my own impressions accurately. Word choices are important, crucial, and any writer who simply disregards all semiotics has little chance of holding my interest. Combine that with structural messiness, redundancy, noise, lack of depth, and what I would call, not to be too harsh, naïveté - how exactly does someone say no as if it were two syllables? - and that little chance evaporates.

The thing that surprised me about your comments, though, was that you specifically demarcated yourself from Charley's post, and then went on to second her views almost word by word. LOL

You say there isn't much telling, but make it clear that Diogo and Valak do not seem all that scary. Mark himself admits in a response to a comment that Valak, being (said to be) a sadist and (being said to) liking rape, makes him scary. That's probably true, if you have an imagination, because otherwise there's no effort to show us how scary he is. Mark also admits to use telling rather than showing to advance the story, although he wants to call it 'interior dialogue' (sic). What is the difference between 'interior dialogue' (sic) telling and narrator telling, one may ask? Beats me.

You say:
"Purely" crazy? What does this mean? Is there an "impurely" crazy? - which, of course, is completely different from what Charley says about the use of the word "wickedly".

You say:
Couldn't you actually give the dialogue, instead of a narrative? - which couldn't possibly be a plea for "Show, Don't Tell". LOL

You say:
You seem to lack a detailed vision about the world your characters live in. - which makes such a contrast to what Charley said about the need for more detail about the environment where the characters move, because it can serve to show a lot about who they are.

You say:
As MLyons said, the story lacks depth and imagery. We are left outside looking at a caricature world -- somehow, we do not get immersed in it and it does not come alive for us. - The basic summary of MLyons' comments was that he agreed and seconded all of Charley's opinions, so I thought this was particularly telling. The caricature world you speak of, couldn't possibly compare to the clichéd B-series movies also mentioned before, could it? LOL


And my point is? Nevermind that. I just thought it was amusing.


*That's an euphemism for laughing out loud.

 

[hiddenself]

Fair enough

I could argue on the specifics but I do get the point. Perhaps my prejudices got the best (worst) of me. I will be more careful in the future.

Oh, and thanks.

 

[BlackShanglan]

Amazingly, the art of the gracious response is not yet dead. That's a lovely thing to see.

Shanglan

 

[Pure]

Hi Mark,

This is a 'grassroots' effort in this forum, with no 'moderating' going on.

I see your anger and various responses to it. Perhaps you were unprepared for any detailed critique. You are a newcomer, and need some time to 'season' and understand the 'customs' of this forum.

I have not yet read the story, so nothing I say has to do with the merits or demerits of your story, or with the accuracy or inaccuracy of criticism.

Two of your comments stand out, though I realize many times you were more gracious:

Charley:

As a general comment on your comments, I find that you lack imagination as a reader. You seem to read stories the way English Professors read papers. That's not a slam, just an observation. That being the case, I found that your comments were just this side of useless for reasons which I will enumerate below.
------

"I did not find your comments on the mechanics of the story to be useful." would have sufficed. It's inappropriate to 'characterize' Charley, whom you don't know.

Further, I think picky readers should be thanked, since word choice, punctuation, even spelling, contribute to the overall impression. EVEN readers who list misplaced commas (hopefully in a PM) have great usefullness.
------

If Charley doesn't want to risk being publicly insulted, then she shouldn't try to use her skill with words to shred someone's work needlessly.

That's a mistake Mark. It makes you sound like the avenging angel. If (hypothetically) she said your story was crap, you are entitled to say the critique was crap. Person-directed insult simply is not called for or appropriate. In fact, of course, she didn't simply apply a label to your story. She made a couple positive comments.

I personally would have like to see more that was positive, but that's her option.

In closing, we all do well to exercize a degree of supportiveness. Everyone needs encouragement. I have felt discouraged at times, in reading certain critiques. YET, no doubt, sometimes I've hurt someone's feelings. These incidents have to be moved past, and apologized for, where necessary. Most criticisms, as Black said, are worth some calm thought, when possible.

Although I'm simply directing traffic here, I think a number of posters will agree with a firm request that

all 'characterization', insults, and negatives(flames) addressed to the *person* are TO BE AVOIDED by both authors and critics.

We are discussing a piece of text. The text, occasionally, may be greatly flawed, though we have high quality here, quite often.

The critiques may, themselves be flawed, or simply presented in an impolitic manner. Authors are free to point out such flaws IN THE CRITIQUE, though 'rebuttals' are probably not all that useful in many cases.

Where a critic, for example, finds the topic or genre to be displeasing, they should state that, as an introduction, and at the extreme, decline to proceed to comment. It's enough, in certain cases simply to say, "That's not my cuppa tea."

I'd like to hear others' comments, since the above is not given as authoritative orders, but as collegial advice.

The aim is maximal benefits for all.

 

[Mark James]

It's a sad day

It's a sad day when intellectual debate sinks to such depths

 

[Mark James]

Don't slander my name

Charley:

Certainly, Mark, you have humiliated yourself beyond your sight.

How dare you slander my name? I never thought that even your insecurity and maliciousness could sink to such depths.

Also, you should know that slander/libel is against the law. As a published writer, my name is my income.

As such, I enter the following for the record:

I Mark James have been accused slanderously by "CharelyH", as shown above, of writing words that I had no part in creating. Let it be known, to all who read this, that I Mark James, had no part in the creation of said comments posted to the internet.


That being said, you may rest assured, that I would never sink to that depth of maliciousness nor do I need to do so.

You are clearly a person who has established a territory here at Lit. You are more than welcome to your turf.

I know that there are others who feel the same as I do, but they lack the courage to tell you things that need to be said.

I am sorry that you are unable to meet on fair grounds in the intellectual arena.

Mark James

 

[Mark James]

Re: Perhaps, but...

MJ, perhaps a more politic response might be wiser. I typically find CharleyH's comments and critiques off the mark, so I essentially agree with you on the substance of the feedback you got. But, you have to recognize the effort irrespective of the (perceived) quality of the critique. This is, after all, a feedback forum, and you are asking for a favor from the reader. It is counterproductive for you (to say the least) to respond the way you have.

PS Oh, and do take the time to find out the dynamics in any environment where you're a newbie. No hard feelings, just some friendly criticism.

A more politic comment would have failed to stir any real response. I don't think that someone should be allowed to get away with the type of "critique" that CharleyH engages in.

A critique is designed to make the writer aware of shortcomings in their writing. I have had many critiques on my writing, believe me. But, I do not have it in me to let someone like CharleyH get away with doing what she does. I've seen her do it to others. What I've done is the right thing to do.

A critique should not rely upon the person's personal bias, although I know in some cases that is unavoidable. I personally do not enjoy heterosexual S&M stories, however, I am able to critique the writings of such stories with impartial fairness. I don't think you can find a more biased person than myself when it comes to heterosexual stories. However, I recognize that my responsibility in a critique is to render an opinion about the writing. It is not my place to use my critique as a way to render judgment on the subject that the writer is writing about.

I think that the only dynamic that any of us should be concerned with is getting honest opinons about the stories that we write.

More politic? Perhaps. I prefer to be more honest.

Mark James

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Re: It's a sad day

It's a sad day when intellectual debate sinks to such depths

Amen to that.

I think that each time you mention Charley's personal bias on her comments to your story, everyone starts wondering what the hell you're talking about.

Would you like to take the time off your busy life to explain to us where you see that bias?


PS: I read what you posted there before the edit. It was a good thing you deleted it, though. Showed your true colours...