Fiction Writing!

I actually want to know how to make it better, any criticism is absolutely fine and I won't get even the least bit angry about it... unless you just say it sucks.



Sota Tulipalon


The War of Fire


Scott Tiedman












Ensimmäinen Luku
Chapter 1
Kultainen Pilari

I laid in bed, fingering the pendant my father had given me. A small statue of a bird, its wings open about to take flight, the metal string threaded through the wing tips. I sat, waiting for my alarm clock to go off. I looked, bending backwards, to see how long I had to wait. Half an hour. I sighed, the last time I checked the clock it had read only a minute before. It felt like I had been waiting hours. I rolled out of bed with a grunt and stumbled down the stairs. I made myself breakfast and ate in a cold stupor; I picked up my stuff and walked out the door, headed for the stop. I sat on the bench and fumbled with my father’s pendant in the cold mist of the morning.

The bird was as dark as the ground beneath it and my hands. I could still see it, envisioning the small figurine as it tossed and turned between my fingers. The first talon on the left foot had fallen off; the string had worn down on my neck and snapped. The right wing had a ship on the shoulder, I was playing with it and the figurine landed on the corner of the desk. And the face was scarred; some jerks stole the statue and tossed it on the roof where it stuck just barely in reach, if I used the wall as a spring board. It slid as I snatched it from the roof. The bus could be seen at the far end of the road. I stood and stepped to the edge of the road.

The bus stopped and I stepped into the musty warmth, drawn cold by the pitiful faces of the ones inside. The passing scenery brought little relief, signifying the leaving of the comfortable and coming of mind splitting horrors.

Once off the bus I walked through the menacing doors and stepped into the large room of gaping light. All my classes were too cold or the teacher tried to correct something about me which was uncorrectable. The day finally ended, I shoved my stuff in my backpack and turned for the door.

“Eli,” I turned to look at Mr. Ricks “I need to talk to you.”

“And I need to get to the bus.” I returned, Mr. Ricks had a very degrading way of talking.

“You’re getting behind on you work, you need to do something.” He was simply too blunt, and didn’t take any pressure off the students shoulders, he actually managed to put more on by being discrete.

“I’ll do some homework.” I said, being just as discrete as he was.

“What homework will you do?” he asked, Mr. Ricks always gave an abstract answer, and he always expected a straight one from the students.

“Why do I have to give you a straight answer when you never give me a straight answer?” I returned

Mr. Ricks was not expecting me to retaliate, he was obviously surprised. He thought while he looked at me, standing brick still. “Come here,” he motioned me over “look at this.” He pointed to my grade, I was failing, “These are all the assignments you’re missing.” I looked and of course it was all the homework, I hate homework, I despise it. “You need to do work outside my class if you want to pass.” I could’ve said something but I didn’t. Mr. Ricks sighed, it sounded like he was trying to say he was disappointed but of course said nothing to fix it.

“Can I go now?” I asked, I might still make it to the buses.

Mr. Ricks paused just a little too long; he finally said “Yes, you can go.” I raced out the door, down the stairs, and blasted through the nearest set of doors to freedom, I wasn’t about to have my day messed up even worse just because I missed the bus. I got to the buses just as the last one pulled out; I kicked the nearby hand railing in frustration. My mom would still be at work; since dad died she was never where she was needed.

I began my long and arduous walk home, I let my mind wander the empty space of information I had been given over my past life time. I thought of ways to stop storms, how to build a bridge to the moon and finally my mind wandered to the fact that I wouldn’t have this problem if Mr. Ricks hadn’t kept me in class for so long.

He always gave me assignments which I didn’t care about. Not that I didn’t care about my grade, I do, I just don’t care for the subject of the assignment, it was simply too broad. Every time I tried to think about how to write it I would always think of everything which I could write about, I wasn’t given enough time to put it all down, much less interview someone who would know enough information on that topic. Ricks was always saying that we should always be conscious of our work and never use any words in the graveyard like that made any sense. Even being in his class makes me angry, and that’s saying something; I’m never angry, and that’s an understatement. I sighed, trying to think of something else.

I wouldn’t complain so much if I only had a good way to release my anger, or overcome it. If only I could fly. As soon as I finished my last thought a yellow column of light shot from the ground in front of me. I stared in awe as it hummed with power, my anger had disappeared, I felt like all my problems had been solved. I slowly reached out my hand, I touched the light, it tingled, it held my finger with loving embrace, something blown from my life. I stepped inside and closed my eyes with the marvelous feeling. I felt weightless, free; I opened my eyes and saw I was weightless. All I could see was the golden light. No, I saw objects passing by, they looked like, stones. The scenery gradually turned red, then turned to liquid. The scenery stayed liquid till the golden light rebounded off a menacing purple one, I continued to follow the gold tube out of the ground.