bewbs

~Chloe~

Female
UK
Seen November 20th, 2022
Posted September 21st, 2022
484 posts
14.2 Years
Grave's stage
Feel free to give any feedback, tips or whatever you feel like.

Prologue

The land of the dead, was identical to the land of the living, apart from its obvious differences. Earth was filled with clouds and blue skies. The importance of time and words affected the value and privileges such as friendship, work, family and identity.

However in death-land, time had paused, the souls remained how they were when they died. The day and night was replaced by a dark grey atmosphere. The corpses, spirits, vampires and all the deceased spent their time here with eternal marks. All that remained from their lifetime was the memories, which gained the ability to reflect on their life.

Along with many of these homeless souls was a man. The man believed love was power and to his extreme measures, he sliced his skin. He wanted to make sure that he had a powerful death. He had never regretted the suicide and felt after all the heartache through his life as a widowed man, it was worth every last drop of blood. That man was known as Crick.

Crick Gimsparnist followed his wife into the noisy atmosphere inside his local bar. His crisp blonde hair covered in bleach stood out to his dirty raggy clothes. His pale skin dangled around the dark bones on his skin. He was shaking his way to the bar. Crick smirked at the plump landlord, revealing his rotting teeth. “Evening Donald,” Crick croaked in a high pitched croaky voice resembling a strangled frog.

“All right there, Crick?” Donald waved his hand as he patted Crick's bleached locks. “What can I get you for this evening?”

“I shall have a pint of organ splash, please.”

“Coming right up, Crickie!” Donald's thumbs faced the ceiling as he pulled the barrel.

“Can you believe it?” Crick dragged Anna's rags to his side, “I haven't had beer in three hundred years. I always liked mine chilled and freshly brewed. It was the taste of life.”

“I miss the good old days brewing the stuff. Here you go, that will be two coins.”

“Thank you.” Crick passed two bronze coins over to Donald. He could always rely on Donald to reduce the prices, just for him. Every time he held his pint of organ splash, it reminded him of the beer he always loved before he died. The beer always cheered him up after his wife's death. Anna wasn't just a wife; she was Crick's life.

He never did recall how Anna died. He wanted to ask her for quite sometime. He just wished that Anna was more active in conversation. Crick fondled his spouse, his chin rested against her face. Anna Gimsparnist, his precious wife, was better known as Armless Anna, because her arms were sliced off before her death. Crick held his pint in his hands as he stood with a posture to show his pride. His cup was held high above his face and he tangled his spare fingers in Anna's long drained curls, almost like Anna had died in water. “You seem to have had such a wet death I must say.”

“Crick,” Anna sighed, “did you even know how I died?”

“Well,” Crick replied, “I know you arms were sliced off before your afterlife.”

“For your information,” Anna muttered to Crick, “my death bed was in the rocky bed of the canal! You can say your death was a peaceful one, but mine was painful. Sometimes, I wonder do you have any feelings for me?”

“Annie dearest.” Crick petted her shoulder, speaking in compassion. “You know I ended my life to be reunited with you sweetie.”

“I see,” Anna sighed again watching Crick as he drank. She despised his drinking habits with a passion. One thing that Anna had learned in the afterlife was that her husband was never going to leave her alone. “I thought death would separate you from me.”

Crick almost spat his drink out. His hands collapsed onto the bar shaking his head. “Death do us part!” he roared with disgust. “I don't believe in that nonsense. Love lasts forever, even in death.” He moved closer to her ear, “That very day I married you, I was determined to make it last for all time.” Anna gulped as she felt his breath along with his words oozing into her brain. “We're stuck with each other and don't it feel good?”

“Yes,” Anna gulped. Her body was trapped by aggressive fingers. Crick brought his lips onto hers and pressed them against each other. “You sit down,” she requested pulling Crick off her as gently as possible. “I'll be right back.” Anna stormed off to the door trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Where are going?” Crick asked leaping to his feet.

“Just going out for a walk,” Anna said without even facing him. “You go and have your pint.”

Anna nudged the door open with a weak shoulder. Her legs felt as light as a feather. She wiped her eyes with a feeling of defeat. Crick would never be able to understand her emotions. He made that clear from tone of his voice. Even though she was dead, her soul was crying out for the freedom she never received. This was what a life was like without time and air. The emptiness in her heart was overwhelming. She just wished that Crick could just back off. Why should their relationship matter anymore? Nothing about Crick seemed genuine to her at all.

Crick's pure obsession with Anna created embarrassment. She didn't want to be known as the Beer-loving-Crick's wife. She wanted to be known as just Anna or even Armless-Anna was acceptable.

Strolling down the dark alleyway reminded her of her of the darkness that was in her sleeping heart. She wasn't going into a particular location, she just had to go far from her husband. Her steps became faster by the seconds to where the strolling changed into running.

Loud sounds captured her attention. Seizing her feet, she stood outside a wide door. The loud atmosphere could be heard from outside and it was the sort of thing Anna would love to see. She stepped into the building with no expectations of what would be inside.

bewbs

~Chloe~

Female
UK
Seen November 20th, 2022
Posted September 21st, 2022
484 posts
14.2 Years
Chapter one: Style

“Welcome to Satin's theatre, Mrs. Gimsparnist.”

Memories returned. Anna gazed at the shattered chandeliers and glossy walls. She felt like she walked into life again; how could she hate the theatre? She faced the guards, who nodded and smiled. Crick cringed whenever he spotted a theatre house, so she wasn't surprised if he never mentioned it to her. Crick didn't know entertainment, even if was thrown at his falling face; she remembered the time where she was watching a performance and Crick dragged her out of the audience before the finale.

“Thank you,” Anna nodded to the guard, “Anything you would recommend me tonight?”

“I'd recommend the singing show in the left hall,” suggested the guard, “a huge variety. Take the left staircase, and any seat.”

“Okay.” Anna skipped her way to the left staircase. She had to rely on her feet, the closest she had to arms were aching legs. The surface was kind to her feet; best floor she's felt since drowning. Vibrating strings called her to draw closer. Then, a tap on the shoulder alarmed her, what was behind her shrieked out,

“ANNA!” Anna recognized the corpse from her rope-styled necklace: Bella Deca. In all the decades of distance, Anna didn't see a hint of change. “How are you, my dear-friend Bella?” Anna became engulfed by Bella's arms. “I was shocked that I never saw you here. Still with your old man?”

“My old man is still obsessed with me as ever.” Anna grumbled.

“Well, so glad I found ya at last,” Bella grabbed onto Anna's waist. “Afterlife with no arms must be a real pain in the neck.”

“I don't really know what's worse,” admitted Anna, “Trapped with Crick or no arms?”

“You do know about that body repair shop, right?” Bella asked.

“Body repair shop?” Anna gasped. First she knew nothing about the theatres, now a body repair shop. What on earth was Crick hiding from her all this time? “I had no idea about it!”

“Damn that old husband of yours,” Bella mumbled. She led Anna to some seats in the front row. “I take it you don't know about the forest?”

“A forest...” Anna was startled again. “In the land of the dead?”

“Indeed,” Bella nodded. “There's different colored apples. When you eat an apple from one of the trees, you might get chosen to be reincarnated or something like that. We might as well finish up what we tried to do.”

“You mean... reincarnate Crick?” Anna whispered. She leaned closer to Bella on the table to assure no one heard. “I could be free, can't I?”

“If I find a way to steal on of the apples, we could trick Crick into eating one of them.”

“Well, it would be easy, right?” Anna asked. “We just have to take an apple and make Crick eat it!”

“It's not as easy as it sounds, Anna.” Bella informed her. “There's ghosts that guard the forest everyday. The majority are invisible and you'll need a jolly good reason to take an apple out of the forest. Plus, only a hundred a week get chosen.”

“That's a lot though.” Anna said.

“So it seems...” Bella sighed. She patted onto the armless figure's shoulder. “Think about it, there's over a billion dead people, and million die everyday and most of them are children. So there's a small chance it may succeed, but don't fret Anna, we could keep trying until we finally get rid of Crick's soul.”

“I always thought... being dead, my soul would be free.”

“And it will be free,” Bella promised. Her fingers crumbling on Anna's cheek, “I can hide you if you want, and I can buy some arms and sew them on. Change your name if you want.”

“Anything to get me away from Crick will be awesome.”

“Tonight, put him behind ya,” Bella suggested, “the show's about to start.”

The grand lights faded to darkness. All was silent as the spotlight danced around the hall. Up rose the scarlet curtains, revealing a woman dancing around to the humming of pianos. The way she was dancing would have been painful; if she was still alive of course, Anna could see her bones sticking out.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a loud deep voice called upon the audience, “corpses, ghosts, vampires and spirits alike, I welcome you to the stage .... Winnie Agolio!”

“She's good,” Bella nodded, “her songs are hilarious.”

Winne's hips swayed like a flower in vicious wind. Her face looked warm, fragile and excited. She danced inside the rhythm of the music. The pace of the sounds began to speed up and Winnie's black curls were flying on her face. Then the moment arrived, where she opened her mouth:

“Good evening everybody!” Winnie waved her arms out, “This song is my story.” Anna raised an eyebrow, thinking this was going to be interesting. Winnie made an oval shape with her arms and began to float around the stage.

“Stranger than my fans would think,
I used to make a sofa sink.
Impossible to ever shrink,
Cause I was Fatty-Fatty”

Anna, along with the crowd chuckled at Winnie's dry sense of humor. She told Bella, “she's actually quite funny.”

”Compressed by all the bullies' acts.
Depressed by unbearable facts;
Shoving food and drink to escape.
Now I am Greedy-Winnie!

Oh, I can't deny... beef and tomato pie.
Yum yum yum!”


“Some rather strange lyrics,” Anna whispered to Bella, “yet really funny.”

“I told you she had great songs.” Bella chuckled.

”I could never have a groom,
I look pretty much like a balloon.
I'm ready to face my doom.
I was sick of being fatty-fatty!

Oh, I must resist... that juicy burger.
Yum yum yum.... too late.”

The pace of the music slowed down as violin springs vibrated.

“Stranger than my fans would think,
I used to make a sofa sink.
Impossible to ever shrink.
Compressed by all the bullies' acts.
Depressed by unbearable facts.
Shoving food and drink to escape.
I could never have a groom;
I look pretty much like a balloon.
I'm ready to face my doom!”

Winnie held onto her high pitched note on doom, until her pitch got lower to the point where she sounded like an earthquake.

“NO MORE FATTY FATTY!
NO MORE GREDDY WINNIE!

Rolling my way to the brigde,
My escape route my failing me.
Had to dive in the river.
Then I was Fatty-Flatty

Oh I shall miss, the bliss of cake.”

Winnie threw herself on the floor, wiggling like a maggot.

”Now I'm a dead beast,
I am now a maggot's feast.
Got slimmer as they ate.
Now I am Thinny-Winnie!”

A roar of applause and laughter was rewarded by Winnie's song. Anna applauded, not because of the humor - she could relate to the tragic lyrics.

Esper

California
Seen June 30th, 2018
Posted June 30th, 2018
I've taken the liberty of putting my comments and suggestions throughout your story, as well as some word changes I would like to see. I hope it helps.
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The land of the dead, was identical to the land of the living, apart from its obvious differences.
Humorous opening line. If you didn't intent it that way consider keeping it as a way to give your narrator a sense of humor. A jaded, dark humor if you prefer.
Earth was filled with clouds and blue skies. (Maybe you could tell us more about land-of-the-living type things like animals, rain forests and happiness) The importance of time and words affected the value and privileges such as friendship, work, family and identity.

However in death-land, time had paused, the souls (of what?) remained how they were when they died. The day and night was replaced by a dark grey atmosphere.
Reword this so it isn't in the passive voice: "A dark grey atmosphere replaced day and night."
The corpses (of who?), spirits, vampires and all the deceased spent their time here with eternal marks. All that remained from their lifetime was their memories, which gained the ability to reflect on their life. (How do memories reflect one their life?)

Along with many of these homeless souls was a man.
Try "Along with these many homeless souls was a man."
This man believed love was power and because of his extreme convictions, he sliced (sliced open?) his skin. He wanted to make sure that he had a powerful death. He had never regretted the suicide and felt after all the heartache throughout his life as a widowed man, it was worth every last drop of blood. That man was known as Crick.

Crick Gimsparnist (difficult name to swallow) followed his wife (what's her name?) into the noisy atmosphere of his local bar. His crisp blonde hair covered in bleach stood out to his dirty ragged clothes. His pale skin dangled around the dark bones on his skin. He was shaking his way to the bar. Crick smirked at the plump landlord, revealing his rotting teeth. “Evening Donald,” Crick croaked in a high pitched croaky (redundant) voice resembling a strangled frog.

“All right there, Crick?” Donald waved his hand as he patted Crick's bleached locks.
I have a pet peeve for the word "locks" when it's not talking about doors and keys. You don't need to keep reminding the reader about someone's hair, or at least not so soon after first describing it.
“What can I get you for this evening?”

“I shall have a pint of organ splash, please.”

“Coming right up, Crickie!” Donald's thumbs faced (thumbs should probably point rather than face) the ceiling as he pulled out the barrel.

“Can you believe it?” Crick dragged Anna's rags to his side, “I haven't had beer in three hundred years. I always liked mine chilled and freshly brewed. It was the taste of life.”

“I miss the good old days brewing the stuff. Here you go, that will be two coins.”
Since you didn't include a "said Donald" or similar line here I first assumed this line belonged to Anna because she was just mentioned and had to read it again.
“Thank you.” Crick passed two bronze coins over to Donald. He could always rely on Donald to reduce the prices, just for him. Every time he held his pint of organ splash, it reminded him of the beer he always loved before he died. The beer always cheered him up after his wife's death. Anna wasn't just a wife; she was Crick's life.

He never did recall how Anna died. (Ah, good, a mystery) He wanted to ask her for quite sometime. He just wished that Anna was more active in conversation. (Last three sentences started with 'He' - try rewording them) Crick fondled his spouse, (sounds dirty) his chin rested against her face. Anna Gimsparnist, his precious wife, was better known as Armless Anna, because her arms were sliced off before her death. Crick held his pint in his hands as he stood with a posture to show his pride. (Could you describe this posture? I have no image of what it might look like.) His cup was held high above his face and he tangled his spare fingers in Anna's long drained (dry? lifeless? limp?) curls, almost like Anna had died in water. “You seem to have had such a wet death I must say.”

“Crick,” Anna sighed, “do you even know how I died?”

“Well,” Crick replied, “I know you arms were sliced off before your afterlife.”

“For your information,” (This line feels too confrontational for someone who doesn't talk much.) Anna muttered to Crick, “my death bed was in the rocky bed of the canal!
Make it "My death bed was the rocky bed of the canal!" The "in" weakens it.
You can say your death was a peaceful one, but mine was painful. Sometimes, I wonder if you have any feelings for me.

“Annie dearest.” Crick petted her shoulder, speaking in compassion. (Show us his compassion, ie., his cooing voice, etc.) “You know I ended my life to be reunited with you sweetie.”

“I see,” Anna sighed again (You don't need to describe her as sighing too often or you risk giving her a case of Sighing Woman Syndrome.) watching Crick as he drank. She despised his drinking habits with a passion. (a little cliche) One thing that Anna had learned in the afterlife was that her husband was never going to leave her alone. “I thought death would separate you from me.” (nice twist)

Crick almost spat his drink out. His hands collapsed onto the bar shaking his head. “Until Death do us part!” he roared with disgust. “I don't believe in that nonsense. Love lasts forever, even in death.” He moved (leaned?) closer to her ear, “That very day I married you, I was determined to make it last for all time.” Anna gulped as she felt his breath along with his words oozing into her brain. “We're stuck with each other and don't it feel good?”
Anna doesn't need to gulp here. It makes her seem unnecessarily wimpy and fearful, especially after her last line.
“Yes,” Anna gulped. Her body was trapped by aggressive fingers. (What, her whole body? Just her shoulder/head/hair/etc. would be enough to get the image of Crick holding her.) Crick brought his lips onto hers and pressed them against each other. (awkward wording, like he pressed his own lips together) “You sit down,” she requested (suggested? or even a simple 'said'?) pushing Crick off her as gently as possible. “I'll be right back.” Anna stormed off (she's angry now?) to the door trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Where are you going?” Crick asked leaping to his feet.

“Just going out for a walk,” Anna said without even facing him. “You go and have your pint.”

Anna nudged the door open with a weak shoulder. Her legs felt as light as a feather. She wiped her eyes with a feeling of defeat. Crick would never be able to understand her emotions. He made that clear from the tone of his voice. Even though she was dead, her soul was crying out for the freedom she never had. (good line) This was what a life was like without time and air. (maybe "time alone" or "space to breathe" would be in keeping with her frame of mind at the moment) The emptiness in her heart was overwhelming. She just wished that Crick could just back off. (Cut one or both "just" from here... too conversational) Why should their relationship matter anymore? Nothing about Crick seemed genuine to her at all.

Crick's total obsession with Anna created embarrassment. She didn't want to be known as Beer-Loving-Crick's wife. She wanted to be known as just Anna or even Armless-Anna was acceptable.
The wording here a bit jumbled. You could try making two sentences out of it. "She wanted to be known as just Anna. Even Armless-Anna was acceptable." or "She wanted to be known as just Anna or even Armless-Anna. That was acceptable."
Strolling down the dark alleyway reminded her of (removed a typo here) the darkness that was in her sleeping heart. (Try shortening to "the darkness in her sleeping heart") She wasn't going into a particular location, (You go to a location or in a direction, but not into) she just (another 'just' you can do without) had to go far away from her husband. Her steps became faster by the seconds until her strolling changed into running.

Loud sounds (what kind of sounds? a crash? a cry?) captured her attention. Seizing her feet, (??) she stood outside a wide door. The thick atmosphere could be felt from outside and it was the sort of thing Anna would love to see. She stepped into the building with no expectations of what would be inside.
I like where this is heading. I didn't care for Crick since he was pretty 2-dimensional and uninteresting. The second part looks pretty promising, too, continuing to develop the setting and plot with Anna striking out on her own.

I would read more, if there is more or if you plan to write more.