Yup.

Read all 3, mediocre fanfiction at best.

I Only liked 2 characters - Ana steele, heroine & her best friend Kate. Everyone else was written poorly.

And it is quite a tame book. Only consensual stuff occurs.

Worth a quick read if you want to pass time. Not a special book by any means.

The plot itself isn't bad. The premise seems a little overdone (What is this, Sound of Music meets Twilight??) with witches and Christianity and all that, but it at least catches the interest immediately.

The dialogue needs polishing (everyone is speaking with the same sort of vocabulary and absolutely nothing like what you would expect from that era) and the formatting is terrible, but it has some promise.

And then the second paragraph happened. Perhaps you should just end the story after the hanging...?

You're telling, telling, telling. Never showing.

>This morning the streets were busy as different species of cats such as ligers, lions, panthers, and tigers came from all across the kingdom. Even a couple of nobles from the capital were here.

Describe striped figures snarling as they violently shove their way through the menagerie. Show me preening fops standing behind their bodyguards, trying for all the world to isolate themselves from a throng they are part of.

My name is Twilight. I’m a female, yellow panther with green eyes that turning two hundred years old.
No. Just no. All of the telling you're doing: work it into a narrative. Have them look in a glass and wonder if there is a little graying, then slip in an average lifespan on the sly. Your details don't feel like a part of the story. They feel like annotated references.

Looking out my window of my two story tree house
Look out FROM THE SECOND STORY WINDOW, or better yet, describe the distance to the ground as you look out. Don't look out the window of a two story tree house. Never look out the window of a two story tree house.

Always ask yourself: are these vivid, living descriptions? Are they part of the story itself, or are they just tacked on? What you have presently is just a detailed skeleton without any meat to it. Add meat.

I thought it was a decent read, probably because I didn't pay for it. #bookz is your friend.

>>16583
you pay for it so you don't have to sit at your computer and read. unless you have a tablet or some other such thing.

as for the book, i liked it. a good mix of horror and comedy. david wong is an asshole though

nominating a classic dystopian short story

http://manybooks.net/titles/forstereother07machine_stops.html

and a classic novel by HG Wells

http://manybooks.net/titles/wellshgetext92timem11.html

Try "At Swim-two-birds"

There is an interesting argument to be made that the Arthurian Legends are post-apocalyptic dystopian narratives. After the Romans pulled out of England, they left behind cities with advanced plumbing, great roads, defensive walls, and up-t0-date naval ports. No people who were left behind, however, knew how to maintain any of this stuff. As the pipes stopped working the bath houses and barbarians overran the roads, the economy collapsed and the land fell into chaos. The plantations which had previously produced cash crops began instead producing their own foodstuffs and training their personnel for self-sufficiency. This was the genesis of feudalism in Middle Age Europe. Since no one could field huge armies anymore, militias became centered around powerful single warriors with the best equipment, knights. Think Mad Max but substituting horses for motorcycles. Many warlords arose who attempted the reunite England under a single authority for several benefits like reduced in-fighting, better defense against invaders, and improved economics. Arthur Pendragon was the first of these warlords who actually achieved this goal.

Seen from this perspective, all of the Arthurian Legends seem quite different. For example, look at Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. As a simple fairy tale, Gawain confronts a knight who turns out to be an incarnation of nature, dying and being reborn every Spring. Gawain learns something about nature and becomes wiser for it. As a post-apocalyptic story, Gawain is idealistically trying to help Arthur rebuild the glory of the civilization that was lost. The Green Knight is really talking about the rise and falls of societies, telling Gawain that Camelot will achieve its goals but only to inevitably crash down again into anarchy. Instead of a story about rebirth, the moral is downright nihilistic.

This decision is a no-brainer to you. There is strength in numbers and for all you know, the farmhouse may well be a weapons trove of the bludgeoning, slicing, and shooting variety. At this thought your hands clench into white-knuckled fists, the emptiness between them unnerving. The flesh rending undead couldn't be far behind, you are certain of it.

You were always a bit neurotic when your nerves became jangled. Whenever an ambulance patient was in dire condition, the steering wheel was a life ring in your hands and the siren your shrieking curse hurled at other drivers crowding the roads. That was the strange comfort of tangibility... Tangibility...Thoughts turn further inward, back to a dry summer day long past. The cool aluminum pressed into a hot and sweaty palm through a gritty tape. The flash of the polished silver blood red to the setting sun. Hollow vibrations echoed through your arms as little Tommy Sawyers screamed for his mommy, for you to stop... that he was sorry. Little was a misnomer of course, Lil' Tommy-boy was the biggest twelve year old in the neighborhood, a veritable neanderthal of a child. Vehemence fills your stomach like hot molten fire, it spills from your lips, scorching Tommy's ears as the pillar in your hands raises to the heavens. It is a pillar of light, of strength, of vengeance. You can almost read the faded sticker on the side, "oe Slugge," the familiar helmeted face grinning wolfishly back at you. "Tommy you scum sucking shit! Don't you ever touch Emily again! Don;t you even look at her! If you do, I swear on your life...!" You trail off, the threat hanging like a blade over his throat choked with rivers of snot and spit. "Okay! Okay! I swear, I promise! Please..!" You picture your twin sister. She had quietly snuck into the house, but wasn't quiet enough to sneak past your door. Her usually radiant face smudged in a vain attempt to hide the tear streaks. Her cheek was the color and shape of an eggplant. Her delicate golden locks filled with stinking mud. And worst, her new overalls (the ones she spent hours sewing delicate and colorful horse designs into ever since Mother showed her how) were torn breast to hip and caked with grime. She wouldn't say a word. But you knew better, you knew who to ask and how to make them squeak. So what if you were younger and smaller than shit brained Tommy? You knew how to even the odds. The bat flashed down in a luminous arc, a dull soft thud culminating your final attack on Tommy's soft, rubbery, "brain." Your thin arms were tired, legs aching from running, but the molten lead in your blood gave you strength hundredfold. Tommy writhed on the ground wheezing desperately, his hands clutched between his legs. "I'll be watching you," you spit. The coppery river oozing from his nose sated your blood lust, filling you with blackened satisfaction. The bat is cool and heavy in your Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Ripped word for word, choice for choice from "Choice of Zombies" on Google Play.
https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.choiceofgames.zombies&feature=search_result#?t=W251bGwsMSwxLDEsImNvbS5jaG9pY2VvZmdhbWVzLnpvbWJpZXMiXQ..

>>16567

not *entirely*

whatcd usually works for me

oh, and googling the name of the book + "pdf" can be surprisingly good

>>16561
>I like the phrase but it doesn't read like you intended to coin it.

I think that's because it's an anomaly. If there were even one more construction like it, it would have that bit of intentionality that's missing now.

OP here, sorry for my laziness. In reality I actually corrected those mistakes, and lengthened the work, but for some bizarre reason I had an urge to jump the gun on trying to get criticism. Needless to say, I realize why that was stupid of me.

Here, have the lengthened, corrected version:
Thank god for the drugs.

The doctor tells me I should feel grateful. A couple decades back, they took people like me (though I still resent his lumping me in with the rest of these subhuman shits) and stuffed them all between four cement walls. They only had their fellow outcasts and nurses and doctors who considered them little more than animals to keep them company, and sometimes they didn’t even have that. Sometimes they would be kept in conditions that the outside world would compare to violent criminals: complete isolation with nothing to do but stare at the walls and occasionally eat and shit. In either case they would rarely give you anything to read or watch, because of the possibility that it would somehow distress you.

And God help you if you rebelled against those conditions. Hell, they only outlawed lobotomies a few decades ago, and that was mostly due to how much of a PR nightmare it resulted in due to the Kennedy family.

So, how did conditions improve? Better question: what forced them to improve?

The development of more drugs. The “therapeutic community” resulted in little more than sustained stability for most, and every last one of them no matter the condition was still a drain on taxpayer resources. So what did they do? Why, they made our sustainment into a fucking business, of course, and used the cement boxes only with those whose wiring had shorted in such a way that even chemical intervention wouldn’t stop them from posing a potential threat to others.

Now, we’re robbed of our distinction on a compulsory basis, so we can participate in “civil society”. I don’t mind this, though, because otherwise I’m haunted by the possibility of demons popping out of the ether to bite my nuts off or the eyes of those that stare at me when I think of such things emitting beams that burrow into my brain and make holes in it.

That, and now I know how to see through the euphuisms in these little history lectures. Thank god for the drugs alright.

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