[Columbine]

Originally Posted by manganimefan227

edits in red
She was at the end: an icy hell imprisoned tightly because of her own choice and the life she was born into . . .

But she didn't care.

It was a pure hell but at the same time it wasn't. It was cold as iceweak cliche simile. try and think of something more imaginitive, no, beyond that. A temperature where normal people would be freezing to death by now. In a place where just the atmosphere alone wouldspacemake you shiver and cower to a point of crying but she didn't.

She didn't feel anything at all.

She was blind psychologically and could not see the gray walls splattered with rotting green stuff; spider websdon't use a comma before a hyphen - it's inhabitants on the floors with cockroachesdon't use a hyphen before 'and' and large circles of blood splatters you've used 'splatter' twice. Try and rephrase. everywhere. She could not feel the torture a normal person would feel just sitting here.now you're repeating yourself and you're still telling not showing. What is she actually DOING asides from just sitting there like an empty sock puppet. Don't tell us it's cold and dirty, show us.

What's worse is that she was thrown everythingfragmented sentance; extremely harsh insults, taunts, rub-ins and reminders of just how doomed she and her "class" were. They were also thrown their so-called "basic necessities": hard cold bread and water, (surely polluted from many things since they got it from a nearby river), blood splattered clothing straps"clothing straps"? like strips of cloth? Seatbelts? during the winter so they don't freeze to death. Physically she could hear the logical complaints of the people around her, they never died down, andnew people came everyday and learnedlearned what?. Her former self would raise arms and hell on these people just for that but now she wouldn't, never again would she let down her barrier to try and save others from an inevitable fate.

She herself was tired; she hadn't slept in weeks but felt as far from tired as if she drank a gallon of Starbucks. Mentally she was in an empty hole, not hearing or seeing or smelling or feeling- both physically and emotionally- anything. Her heart was buried deep inside her icy barrier and her snowy tears and the snow-like tears paging the department of redundancy departmentof others she had to let fall . She wanted, deep down wherever her emotions were, to die, she was already pretty much there, but her body, from natural instincts of survival, imprisoned her, with all of her willpower gone to stop it, her body made her keep going. It made her eat the stale crusts and drink the anything-but-life-friendlyawkward phrasing water to survive and her body protected her from the cold nights by forcing her to make a blanket from whatever and put it on and lie there as a continuing empty shell.

She herself just added on to the hellish picture as skeletons and witches do to a haunted house display. Not even in the deep depths of her mind where she still thought did she keep track of things such as age but she was- from looking- about in her early 20's her hair covered with blotches of dirt and sticking out all over from lack of water and brushing, a condition that your stereotypical everyday girl or woman would fall into a coma from havingthat just sounds dumb. sorry, but her life never left room for caring of things like that. Her empty orange eyes showed how long it really was since she last slept with big blobs of purple dragging downfrom that sentence I'm imagining licorice leaking from her eyeballs. If you as the writer don't put the imaginative effort in, your reader certainly won't bother.. She had skin pale as snowyou've used 'snow' as a descriptor twice already. Also, this is a cliche, her whole body was extremely fragile and scrawny. She unconsciously bit her nails from stress/fear/worry? "her body's tension" isn't good english . She wore unfittingly large clothing that sagged. Really, she looked averagethat's not an average appearance by a long shot. even if that's how everyone else looks, you should appreciate that what you're describing is a purely exceptional scenario and blended in with her "class"

Every day she would sit and stare blankly, staying in a black hole.we already know this She knew she was alone and she was completely fine with staying that way, because the only people that have and would ever enter her life are people who needed protection and reassurance that she couldn't give them.

Until he came . . .

She never really paid attention to days passing, really there was no way she could. Neither did she know what time of day it was when he first appeared. He just seemed like one of the soldiers who "took care" of them wearing all green for a uniform.

with a brown pocket for a knife and a black hand gun, waxed along with his black shoes by children and elderly with a filthy rotted false-hope promise of surviving which came undone with the task of delivering these things to their owners but no one complained about it. this sentence doesn't make a scrap of sense. for starters he's somehow using a pocket as a knife/gun and is waxing along (the floor?). I can't even guess what you're trying to describe.

That was their idea of freedom. They truly looked forward to it and no one with that honor truly envied those with it.

I think it's a slightly better premise than your last one, and a much better attempt to set a character in place but still a long way to go. Watch Your Spelling And Grammar! I think it might be worth you picking up a book or two and looking at how the writers introduce protagonists. Even movies can help.

Admittedly this isn't an easy sort of scene to write because there's not a lot of action. It's mostly a portrayal of deprival and silent suffering and there's not a lot to your character because she's so withdrawn. Here you could use the things and people around her as a 'bounce'. Show who she is in contrast to them. Like in Lord of the Flies. We get an impression that Piggy is really smart and adult because when talking about things that they need, he stands upright and Ralph does hand-stands. We can sense that Ralph is lonely and isolated from the boys because he only really talks to SamnEric, the twins. Their closeness underlines his seclusion from the tribe.

There's also an issue of perspective. If the readers are aware of the writer's 'voice' then it had better either be adding something to the story, or directly narrating. Imagine you're the director of a movie. You need to be off-scene, or else giving a commentary at the side. At the moment, you're kind of hovering behind your lead actresses' head muttering HER lines. It's distracting because there's something interesting going on and I'd rather hear it from her.