Sci Fi & Fantasy / 12 Days Till Sunset, ch. I (Analysis)
I: How Easily Love Dies
It was nearly dawn now.
Jane Roberts rubbed her eyes sleepily. This was her dream job: editor of Falland’s city newspaper. But that didn’t make it any easier. She spotted mistake after mistake as she scanned the day’s paper, things she should have noticed last night before deadline. In a few hours she would be getting calls from the grammatically correct citizens of Falland, more content to find mistakes than to actually read what the paper offered.
Jane didn’t blame them. Every day was the same: the front page was splashed with the details of murders and robberies and how the police hoped-to-God that luck was on their side and that they would catch this evil perpetrator.
Every other line described the silly street gangs and the equally outlandish names they gave themselves. There were the Hate Assassins of Falland, who were just as imaginative as their name conveyed, and the Legion of Iron. Jane thought that the Legion of Iron was probably the best one out there at the moment, if only they actually committed some reader-grabbing crimes as opposed to vandalizing buildings no one cared about nor bothered to clean up.
At least, Jane thought to herself, give our city some creative criminals.
Despite the low interest in readers, Jane had to thank luck for the fact that Falland was in a state of relative peace. The obituary column was filled with nameless faces of gang-bangers and thieves. For once, the criminals were keeping the murders amongst themselves.
Last year – 2015 – had yielded the worst murder and crime rates in the entire history of Falland. The police force had been powerless. Financial powerhouse leaders were being murdered left and right. Jane supposed such crime was due to the fact that Falland needed more development as a city. It was a bustling metropolis – but that was all it was. The city was lined with office building after office building and the stress was too much for most people. An escape could not be found unless luck had your back and you were amongst Falland’s wealthy.
Jane loved her city, as filthy or gloomy or criminal-infested as it might have been. She smiled to herself as she saw the sun coming up through the large glass window of her office. It was a welcome sight compared to the usual rain and storm clouds that came with both day and night in Falland.
“You look exhausted.” Jim Kimbel announced as he barged into Jane’s office.
“I haven’t gone home.” Jim’s voice made her head throb.
“Working on that column of yours? I hope it’s a success.”
“It will be.” Jane stared dreamily out the window. “It’s what the readers of Falland need right now. Something to take their minds off of this constant gloom.”
Jim nodded. “It’s risky, though. You know that our city only enjoys reading of the bad things that happen to people.”
“I know that. But I’m truly convinced that a wedding column will interest them. Our paper needs something bright and cheery.” Even as she spoke, Jane had doubts about scrapping the food section and replacing it with a wedding column. Sure, it was bright and happy and cheery, but it was also not in Falland’s taste to read about bright and happy and cheery things.
“Maybe you should also write about a couple who’s been together for a while, something like that. Relationships don’t seem to last long here.” Jim echoed Jane’s thoughts.
“You know from personal experience?” Jane showed him a sly smile.
“I wouldn’t want to bore you with my dating stories.” He grinned at her and took his exit.
Jane closed her eyes. She could write about her and Jason. Four years was a long time. But it’s inappropriate for editors to write themselves into a story.
She glanced at her reflection in the long mirror that covered a wall of her office. She hadn’t been to sleep in 24 hours, but her green eyes still sparkled with the eagerness that was always present. Her long, blonde hair was rumpled and plastered to one side of her face, but overall, she didn’t look bad.
Jane thought back to when she was young, sitting in front of her mother’s mirror and trying to imagine herself as an adult. She hadn’t changed much – just blossomed a bit and gained some maturity. Certainly she never imagined she would be sitting here, as editor of the Falland Tribune, her dream job.
“You’re going to be famous one day, Jane,” her mother had told her.
Editor was a fine job, but nothing close to fame.
The ring of a cell phone, her cell phone, jarred her out of the past.
“Jason.” Jane smiled when she answered.
“Editor, huh? Thank you for telling me.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Surprised I was. But congratulations. You’ve been working for this.”
“Thanks,” Jane’s voice revealed her distraction.
“Thinking too much again?” Jason asked.
“How’d you know?”
“You sound sad. And whenever you sound sad, you’ve been thinking too much.”
“You know me well,” Jane quipped.
“I hope I do. After all, four years of not knowing you would be pretty pathetic.”
“I agree,” Jane stared down at her countless drafts of the wedding column. She was getting nowhere. “I think we should go out tonight, to celebrate.”
“We should. I’ll take you to the Ivy, my treat.”
“Oh wow, that’s an incredible place…” Jane grinned.
“I know, you should pay your compliments to the owner.”
“I already do.” She smirked.
“And he appreciates it very much. I’ll come to your place at seven, then?”
They decided on seven and Jane wandered around the top floor of the office building, making sure her writers were working.
“I see mistakes,” said Isabel Glaine, a recently hired writer.
“Good observation.” Jane told her.
Isabel only stared, undoubtedly put off by the fact that her new editor was so unhelpful and careless. Her blue eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something.
“Oh, I do care,” Jane continued. “I care a lot. I’m the editor. But I also make mistakes, too. I wish my writers didn’t make so many.”
“Hey, Jane, don’t scare Ms. Glaine now.” Jim laughed from his seat inside his tiny workspace.
“Mr. Kimbel, I’ve got this covered.” The agitation was clear in her voice.
“I think you should go home and sleep a bit. Come back at deadline. Really, you need it,” Isabel piped up.
“I’m going to do that. I trust that you’ll all get your stories done with, or else we’ll have a lot of blank space to fill. I’ll see you all at four-thirty.” Jane quickly turned, packed up her things, and made her way out of the horridly claustrophobic press building and onto the sidewalks of Falland.
She reveled in the fresh sunshine and the smell of the rain that had come in the night. The skyscrapers and busy streets calmed her mind, anything to be away from work. She considered taking a taxi but knew that walking was good, especially when her condo was a brief two blocks from the office building.
Jane’s tall, curvy figure attracted the glances of most men walking through Jane’s path. She knew her beauty was sometimes intimidating, but she didn’t like to use it to her advantage. Being anything less than modest made her uncomfortable.
The high-rise condos of Williams Apartment Complex loomed in the distance, bright and clean against the dirty city streets and dingy buildings.
Jane pushed through the door and found her way to number 876, falling into bed without a second thought.
*
Jane glanced at herself one last time in the mirror. She was wearing her best for this night: a black strapless dress with her clear heels. Her hair was neatly straightened and cascaded down her shoulders. Her makeup was simple and neat.
At exactly seven, there was a knock on the door of her apartment. On the other side of the door was Jason, dressed in a simple suit jacket and looking handsome, as usual. His dark hair fell constantly into his eyes, something agitating yet cute.
“I’m here to pick up a Miss Jane Roberts,” he grinned at her.
“Well I believe you’ve come to the right place.” She placed her arm in his and they walked through the extravagant halls of Williams Apartments.
“I still don’t believe how a writer could manage to pay rent in a place like this,” Jason observed.
“I have help from my Dad,” Jane blushed as she said it.
“You never told me.” Jason looked at her accusingly.
“It’s not something I really like to talk about. But he cares about me and wants me to be comfortable. Being promoted to editor will help me out, though. I may be able to pay it all on my own soon.”
“Yeah. But you know, since we’ve been dating for four years that’s probably something you should have told me.” Jason’s tone was harsh but he smiled at her.
“It’s a minor detail,” Jane returned his smile. “And you need to meet my Dad sometime.”
“Will he like me?”
“He’ll love you,” Jane reassured him.
The Ivy was the most upscale restaurant found in Falland, with its Roman architecture design and majestic paintings covering the walls.
Jason lead Jane to a private room in the back of the restaurant, complete with white silk curtains to shield diners in the room from those average customers.
“It must be nice to just walk in and do whatever you please.” Jane commented.
They took their seats at the table. “It’s one of the perks of owning the place.”
“So, tell me how this new editor job came about,” Jason said as they scanned their menus.
“You know it’s something I’ve always wanted. Working so long for the city paper got me somewhere, at least. Apparently I’m the youngest person to edit the Falland Tribune.” Jane smiled to herself. “But it’s not a promising job, in my opinion. The previous editors have flawed pasts.”
“What happened to Max Reed?” Jason asked of the most recent editor.
“He was diagnosed with tuberculosis.” The diagnosis of Reed had been a terrible thing – the man had promised to restore interest in Falland City news and to increase the literacy rate amongst the city’s inhabitants.
“So he’s in the sanitarium now?” Jason asked.
“He’ll be there for a long time,” Jane said sadly. She wanted to do something great as editor. She knew it was impossible to increase the literacy rate – now more than ever people were dropping out of school. Education was less and less prevalent and seemed to be frowned upon in their society.
“Don’t get yourself down.” Jason squeezed her hand. “You’ve only edited two issues so far. You can do amazing things.”
Their food was served and they talked of the impending election for city mayor and the most recent medical discovery – a vaccine that promised to stop cancer.
“You’re an amazing woman, Jane.” Jason took her hand and looked into her eyes. “And I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Jane’s heart thudded in her chest. “We’re only 26. We still have quite a few years ahead of us,” she giggled.
“Is that a no?”
“No, it’s an observation.” Jane sighed. “My answer is yes, of course.”
They looked at each other and smiled.
“But I want my ring first,” she laughed.
“Of course. I’ll see to it right away.” He took her hand and they exited the restaurant and entered the dark and rain-soaked streets.
“How late is it?” Jane glanced around. The sidewalks were deserted and the city had a haunting air of gloom.
Jason looked at his watch. “It’s ten. Don’t forget, we’re in a relatively well-off part of Falland, Jane. You won’t see the criminals running around here.”
“Should we wait for a cab?” She looked around nervously. “I don’t want to walk through the city this late.”
They stepped into the flood of brightness provided by a streetlight and waited for a taxi, shivering in the cold November air.
“What is that? Can you hear that?” Jane spun around, squinting into the darkness behind her.
Her heart thumped wildly inside her chest as she saw the figure of men emerge from the darkness and place his hand over Jason’s mouth. He held a pistol and pointed it at Jane.
Another man placed his hand over Jane’s mouth and grabbed her arms, making it near impossible for her to move.
“Hand us your purse, and we’ll let you go,” the man holding the pistol told Jane. He had a thick accent and she placed him to be somewhere from Eastern Europe.
Jane struggled against her captor’s grip, barely able to breath. She made eye contact with Jason and he slowly shook his head.
“What was that?” the man with the pistol spat. “You tell her no? Don’t think I won’t kill you.” He turned the pistol from Jane to Jason.
Jane’s captor reached down and removed her purse from her grip. She struggled against him, biting his hand that covered her mouth.
“The bitch bit me!” The man who held Jane removed his hand and inspected it, looking at it as though the bite were from a dog.
Jane used the opportunity to grab her purse from him and kick her heeled foot into his stomach. He plummeted to the pavement without another word.
Jason struggled away from his captor and attempted to grab the pistol from him. “Run, Jane!” he urged.
“No, I’m not leaving you!” Jane ran back to him and attempted to pull him away from the large man. In the light she saw that he had a terrifying scar covering his right eye. Piercings covered his lips, eyebrows and ears. He raised an arm and smacked Jane hard across the face, knocking her to the cold, wet concrete.
“How cute, I’ve come across a pair of lovers,” the man spat at them.
He had an advantage over Jason in his body size and pushed him to the ground next to Jane.
“All I want is your money,” he growled.
Jason sprang to his feet and punched the man hard across the face, drawing blood.
“Why… you…” the man staggered back, tripping over his own two feet.
“Run, Jane,” Jason looked back at her.
Jane got to her feet unsteadily, but not before she saw the bright flash of light and heard the pistol discharge.
Jason’s figure fell slowly to the ground and the man with the pistol approached Jane, hitting her hard across the face and ripping her purse from her. Jane fell again onto the cold sidewalk and could only watch as the man ran off into the darkness.
No, no, it can’t be…
Jane crawled toward Jason, not wanting to see the damage that had been done.
“Jason.” She stared into his blood-soaked face. “Jason!” she heard her voice echo in the darkness. “You bastard! I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you! Jason, Jason, Jason! No…” She rested her head on his chest as she sobbed, her voice hoarse.
- April Fischer, 2008
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I don’t believe in nitpicking on grammar and spelling. You should be able to look up any manual online or at your local library and take a few self-study classes. I see how you tell the story as the most important factor in reviewing these submissions.
I was going to knock you for your dialogue attribution. He said, she said are always the best forms of dialogue attribution. To add adjects, adverbs, and especially modifiers to it makes it weaker. But the difference here is that you NEVER used the attribution said, and instead kept it the way you have it for the entire story. That’s your style and I can appreciate that – I know several authors who never use the word “said”, and some who only use the word “said.” But what I will knock you on, is that I see the way you approached dialogue was more than just a style, it was a necessity. To me dialogue should read like its unrehearsed, original, engaging, and moving. Here, it read like reading a laundry list of facts and emotions. The reader should be able to gather the emotion and crisis the characters find themselves in. If I did not read each accompanying dialogue attribution, I never would have guessed how the characters were feeling.
The characters themselves seemed pretty mundane and uninspiring. I think I could have replaced Jane with any of her writers and still gotten the same story. Even the climax at the end didn’t do anything for me, because there was no build up and Jason was just as generic. I suggest you try to shy away from those conscious narratives a bit and try putting Jane in more scenes. I felt like everytime you summarized one of her traits and then followed up by dialogue, thatt the dialogue felt stale and unnecessary.
I wish you could have expanded more on the setting – the immediate setting I mean. The descriptions were vague and some were lacking. For example, you rarely describe Jane except in generic terms like her having a beautiful body. I think if you polled 100 men, all 100 men would have a different opinion of what that is. You need to bring your character to life, and telling us what they are wearing isn’t the best way to do so. Read some of your favorite works. The best desccriptions focus on all the five senses and leave out “statistical” descriptions like their height and weight and even their clothing, unless clothing is essential to the plot.
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