₦airaland Forum

Faita:
Actual writers? Do you mean people with degrees in English and Creative Writing? Or just people with a commitment to writing? Because you can't mean people who have talent or skill. You happen to have both, in my opinion.

You're welcome.

People committed to writing. But thanks

So eventually turned out to be today. Second draft (?) is up now and I took your suggestions into consideration with a few exceptions.
One, I think saying "Feast" is explanation enough without having to spell it out. Lol @hair eating btw
So I adjusted the penultimate paragraph. I'd initially assumed that using the ellipses in the "why" would account for the difficulty in speech associated with the object in his throat. But on second thought, you are kinda right. A man choking on his own blood shouldn't be able to talk at all.


Anything else need straightening out?


Thanks again.

Faita hah thanks for the observations (?) they're duly noted.
I'll leave writing fiction to actual writers abeg, this one na play I dey and to be honest I'm way too lazy to even shift those sentences. But I will give it a look... eventually. And I like that you touched on some aspects I've been moving about in my head all day

Thanks again.

Hi. I'd say nice attempt but to be honest I'm still trying to wrap my head around the story.
This is what I got: A deaf and dumb girl was raped-- she seemed to want it. Her mother is cripple.

That said, I happen to have a very sensitive palette. I love my literature simple and fluid so perhaps I'm not your desired audience here (?)
You're verbose; some of the words you use can be substituted with less brain-racking ones. Makes your writing cleaner
You use too many breaks (full stops I mean.) Try playing around sentence length. Two long. On short. Use your commas.

Of course that's just my opinion.

The story has potential so I'll keep an eye on it.

Carry on.

Divepen1:
Ujsizzle, I duff my hat for you.

KingTom looool

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
.

Aww why did you edit?

She smiled, turned and left.

Mack lay frozen on the spot trying and failing to understand how he’d fallen into those eyes as the darkness enveloped him.

**********************

He was sitting on a low-hanging branch of a cashew tree the first time he’d spotted her. Skin the shade of Irish potatoes, hair the colour of gutted Tuna and hips swaying in tandem to the song bellowing from her headset. Her body could inspire music.

He jumped down from his perch as she approached.

"Mack. You new around here?"

"Kinda." She cocked her head, giving him a cursory look. "Piper. The name's Piper."

"I could teach you a number of things if you let me," he said.

"Show me."

He schooled her in the art.

Years and scores of carved epidermis later they hooked up for drinks in his loft. He watched her chatter over glasses of wine, eyes lit like a strobe. Her fingers sliced the air like a make-shift knife, ripping through flesh as she talked.

My creation. He thought to himself. Mine. Mack knew potential when it came and she had been potential. She'd lapped his lessons like a starving kitten.
Use your looks. Flirt with your body. Play with their mind. Give them what they want. Always. And when they're ripe, gut them.

He watched as she rose from her perch, eyes on him, she approached like a feline. Fire leaped in his groins. She straddled him, letting his hands run up and down the length of her torso just as he liked. He grabbed a fistful of that flaming hair, jerked and began to feast. She. Belonged. To. Him.

Then he sputtered, hands flailing as he struggled for air. She stood and watched silently as his body convulsed.

His mouth opened and snapped shut again as he grabbed hold of the slender hairpin poking through his windpipe. She read the question in his eyes, why?

She cocked her head and stared at him with mild curiosity, "I am Piper."

Divepen1 any more?

Beautiful cultural insight

Tell me, is this tradition of killing the Abobaku along with the deceased king still in practice today?