Creative Writing Resource for Budding Authors
Crit: Opening scene
Hi all,
I’m new to creative writing, although have harboured the desire for a long time!
I hope to combine philosophical/psychological problems with fiction, but have found it really hard to get going. I was given some advice to “cut my teeth” on something fun, so here’s my opening scene to a Sci-Fi I’ve fancied writing for the last couple of months.
Any criticism would be much appreciated.
Thanks
Paul
Skin covered in a patchwork mix of sweat, grime, yellow ochre, and animal fat was bathed in a sudden, flickering orange glow as a freshly placed log on the fire-pit caught and burst into flame. Eyes like mini infernos reflected the blaze. Matted hair, forced into dreadlocks, and held back with a leather band, combined with the hissing of the newly taken log, momentarily taking on the visage of darting, withering serpents. Her lithe, heavily pregnant body, cast a monstrous, shadowy form against the jagged cavern wall, eclipsing a half painted field of sunflowers.
Fear, then anger, flashed through Tom as he sat watching her, his previous task of stoking the flames, his sword an improvised poker, forgot. He lashed out at the offending log, pushing it into the centre of the fire with his blade, a shower of protesting sparks, whistles, and pops screamed out as it was enveloped.
Tom awkwardly heaved himself up, sheathing his sword and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. Limping across the rocky floor towards Katie, he tried to push the image out of his mind.
Placing his rifle down next to hers, both within arms reach, he wrapped his arms around her, clasping his hands over her swollen belly. You keep me strong, you keep me sane, he said to himself.
“Well, what do you think?” Asked Katie as she entwined her arms with Tom’s, and squeezing, hugged their unborn child.
“I think we’ll have to request the council excavate a gallery”, replied Tom smiling, “and if they refuse, I’ll dig one out myself.”
“I bet you would too, just to piss them off!” Laughed Katie, “Although, we may have a few problems with moving my paintings there.”
“Hmm, you may have a point” he mumbled as he started kissing the inside of her neck.
“That’s enough of that” she said in mock sternness, “I want to finish this before she’s born” as she prised his arms from her and squatted, picking up the pestle. “Make yourself useful and get me the charcoal before you go, I need to make up some black.”
Chuckling he limped over to a small mound of charcoal pilled close to the fire, and scooped up a handful, “She! How many times do I have to tell you? She will be a he.”
“Lesson number one my sweet child” said Katie as she rubbed her belly, “when daddy thinks he’s right; just smile, nod your head, and look at him pityingly.”
Laughing as he dropped the charcoal in the mortar, Tom kissed his wife, and turned to leave. It was bad luck to say goodbye. Picking up his rifle, he limped towards the cavern’s exit. Drawing back the ragged cover which served as a door, he paused and looked back.
Katie was humming as she ground fat into the charcoal to make a black paste for her sunflowers. The small cavern, a privilege of his rank, was now almost entirely painted in a continuous mural depicting scenes from before; flowers, animals, children playing in parks, cities, and blue, calm skies. She had immersed herself completely during the last three months, only complaining once about the compulsory half duties for those in the final trimester. Even a stubborn hot-head like her wouldn’t risk the chance of increasing the decimated species by another soul.
I’m new to creative writing, although have harboured the desire for a long time!
I hope to combine philosophical/psychological problems with fiction, but have found it really hard to get going. I was given some advice to “cut my teeth” on something fun, so here’s my opening scene to a Sci-Fi I’ve fancied writing for the last couple of months.
Any criticism would be much appreciated.
Thanks
Paul
Skin covered in a patchwork mix of sweat, grime, yellow ochre, and animal fat was bathed in a sudden, flickering orange glow as a freshly placed log on the fire-pit caught and burst into flame. Eyes like mini infernos reflected the blaze. Matted hair, forced into dreadlocks, and held back with a leather band, combined with the hissing of the newly taken log, momentarily taking on the visage of darting, withering serpents. Her lithe, heavily pregnant body, cast a monstrous, shadowy form against the jagged cavern wall, eclipsing a half painted field of sunflowers.
Fear, then anger, flashed through Tom as he sat watching her, his previous task of stoking the flames, his sword an improvised poker, forgot. He lashed out at the offending log, pushing it into the centre of the fire with his blade, a shower of protesting sparks, whistles, and pops screamed out as it was enveloped.
Tom awkwardly heaved himself up, sheathing his sword and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. Limping across the rocky floor towards Katie, he tried to push the image out of his mind.
Placing his rifle down next to hers, both within arms reach, he wrapped his arms around her, clasping his hands over her swollen belly. You keep me strong, you keep me sane, he said to himself.
“Well, what do you think?” Asked Katie as she entwined her arms with Tom’s, and squeezing, hugged their unborn child.
“I think we’ll have to request the council excavate a gallery”, replied Tom smiling, “and if they refuse, I’ll dig one out myself.”
“I bet you would too, just to piss them off!” Laughed Katie, “Although, we may have a few problems with moving my paintings there.”
“Hmm, you may have a point” he mumbled as he started kissing the inside of her neck.
“That’s enough of that” she said in mock sternness, “I want to finish this before she’s born” as she prised his arms from her and squatted, picking up the pestle. “Make yourself useful and get me the charcoal before you go, I need to make up some black.”
Chuckling he limped over to a small mound of charcoal pilled close to the fire, and scooped up a handful, “She! How many times do I have to tell you? She will be a he.”
“Lesson number one my sweet child” said Katie as she rubbed her belly, “when daddy thinks he’s right; just smile, nod your head, and look at him pityingly.”
Laughing as he dropped the charcoal in the mortar, Tom kissed his wife, and turned to leave. It was bad luck to say goodbye. Picking up his rifle, he limped towards the cavern’s exit. Drawing back the ragged cover which served as a door, he paused and looked back.
Katie was humming as she ground fat into the charcoal to make a black paste for her sunflowers. The small cavern, a privilege of his rank, was now almost entirely painted in a continuous mural depicting scenes from before; flowers, animals, children playing in parks, cities, and blue, calm skies. She had immersed herself completely during the last three months, only complaining once about the compulsory half duties for those in the final trimester. Even a stubborn hot-head like her wouldn’t risk the chance of increasing the decimated species by another soul.
Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by AB on -
I like this opening scene and it leaves me wanting to kow more about what situation they are in - is it post apocalyptic? If it leaves the reader wanting to know more that is always a good thing. I was curious about the feelings that Tom has. I was a little confused as to whether he hated his wife or not but am sure this would be explained with further reading. Feel free to post some more.
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