Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28266772-20160729155428/@comment-25226524-20160730204839

I'm trying out your method of inserting thought into the actual story. It's a good system. I used parentheses for mine. Some are actual advice while others are my reactions. I think it will be obvious. I'm going to do "The Fatso" in a bit. Here is "The Witch":

Andrew calmly entered through the door and stepped upon the cracked and uneven linoleum floor that lined the kitchen entrance of the outwardly innocuous flat. The entire tower block belonged to his employer and the top floor flat was occupied by one Mrs. Wyttick. The extremely old and senile woman was cared for by a trio of deaf orderlies who were also paid for by his employer. Andrew squeezed his way through the corridor until he saw the woman staring at a blank wall; he quickly concluded that the woman was probably not mentally present.

“Good evening,” Andrew said as he sat down. Mrs. Wyttick gave no response; she just wheezed, rhythmically, with an oxygen tank uncomfortably attached to her nose. “Good evening Mrs. Wyttick,” Andrew said. “I am working with the company that pays for your accommodation, and I have been asked to visit you to ask a few questions, and also to pass a message on.”

The woman remained silent, and so Andrew looked towards the orderly who was busily rushing around in the kitchen, and who had failed to pay him any attention aside from a quick smile as he passed her by in the kitchen. ("in the kitchen" is used twice in one sentence. The second one could easily be removed)  He decided to try the old woman one more time. “Mrs. Wyttick,” he said. “I’ve been asked to inquire about your relationship with one Annabelle.” (needs to be a comma after "said" and I also feel like "one Annabelle" hits me wrong. When "one" is used, it seems as though it needs to either precede a Mr/Ms and last name or a first and last name.  I think it requires more specificity.) There was no response from the sunken grey eyes. “Okay,” he added before taking out the note from his jacket pocket. “I won’t get much out of you,” he chuckled. “But I can at least pass this on. Right,” he cleared his throat. (is "Right" a question there?) “To the woman who taught the pompous Charles the first humility, and the price of divinity; to the woman who took from Cromwell his eldest son; to the woman who robbed Washington of his teeth, and tasted Lincoln’s flesh…”

“Well fuck me,” the old woman snapped causing Andrew to jump with fright. He looked up to see the decrepit and frail woman snatching the tubes from her nose with a shocking level of energy. “I have not had a gentlemen visitor in so so so so so sooooo long!” she cried, rubbing her hands together and laughing. “Ohhhhh,” she shuddered. “It’s so unfair they don’t let me play much anymore.”

Andrew, still in shock, did not respond, so the old woman leant forward; her eyes narrowed to a slit as she approached the anxious Andrew until she was so close he could smell her foul and putrid breath. And he could see the whiskers on her face twitch with anticipation. “Well!” she shouted. “What is it you want!? Let me guess a little ‘lurv potion’”, she said derisively, before sitting back down. “Bloody hell I hope you didn’t go digging that full title up just for some fucking love potion! It was all just rohypnol for a start. Surely you realize that? All that bloody love people whine on about – witches don’t love love, they love rape for crying out loud you silly boy!” Awkwardly she stood up and tossed her blankets aside. “Look,” she said with a wink, before poking her tongue out, “Do it like this. ("Do" to "do" or a period after "out") Grab the silly fucker and pin her down and eurgh,” the old woman began to thrust violently into the air. “Make ‘em bleeeeeeed!” she screamed at a piercing volume. (Well this is already getting fun. Dipping your toe into my end of the filth pool I see)

Suddenly, she became still, and silent. The energy that had bubbled up explosively fell away in an instant. Andrew, unexpectedly afraid of the old woman for reasons he wasn’t fully aware of, heard only the sound of her piss cascading against the floor (yes!) and the sound of a slow shuddering groan rising from her throat that grew into a frightful, and quivering, climax. Her eyes rolled and her body shook until she quickly sat back down again, and addressed Andrew once more.

“Oh sorry about that,” she said. “I had a flashback to my ninth birthday. Ha!” (well then) the old woman slapped her leg and cackled furiously. “Well,” she barked with a stony expression. “What is it? I don’t do love potions. My kind never have. What is it that you want?”

“I’ve been told to ask you about Annabelle,” Andrew answered, visibly shaken.

“Fattie?” the old woman asked. (lol)

“I…I…I don’t know,” Andrew stuttered. The old woman sighed, and crossed her arms.

“Yeah it’s fattie they want,” she said. “Oh that… that… that fucking sausage roll of a girl. I don’t know why they’d want her back. She came to me fair and square and I… well I admittedly,” the old woman smiled. “I might have taken an eency weency ever so wee,” and she held up her fingers to just an inch apart. “Oh alright! I took advantage of her. Well… I didn’t. The uh… God I can’t remember they’re (their) names. The men did it, really. They took advantage of her. And, ya know, fair play to those lads they paid me more than was due because, I mean, who wants to fuck a fatso? You?” (stylistically, when she doesn't finish her sentences it needs either an ellipsis or an em dash unless the sentence is continued in the next quote)

The old woman’s eyes pried away at Andrew furiously. “Well do you? Would you fuck a fattie?” she added.

“I, um… I don’t under…” Andrew stuttered before the motor-mouthed hag started up once more.

“No!” she shouted loudly. “No one wants to fuck a fatty. That girl should have, as far as I’m concerned, said thank you. I told her, ‘mop up the blood, push it back in like a sock, and say thank you.’” (well shit) The old woman stopped and pressed her hand against her chest, only to flutter her eyelids innocently. “It was the only way she was ever going to lose her virginity. Best thing ever happened to her were those two or three days. Or were they months? Oh, I can’t remember. But after that I just gave her what she wanted. You can guess what that is can’t you?” she laughed.

There was a pause. Andrew didn’t know what to say. “She wanted food,” the old woman told him. “So I… well I gave her food. Lots and lots and lots of food. I mean at first she wouldn’t eat cause she was uh… well not really all there in the head any more. But then I spoke to him and he gave me my voice in turn for the girl. After that she started chowing down like the little fatty that she was and… well I’d never had a daughter—least not one I didn’t debone or sell—and for a while I actually kind of liked being good to the lard bucket. But I… well you know what it’s like, don’t you?” she asked. “You have something in your hands and you can’t resist so I…” there was a long and pregnant pause as Andrew waited for her to continue. “I pushed her limits,” the old woman finished. (you have my attention)

By now Andrew had lost all sense of why he had come, and could not resist asking,

“How?”

“Well,” the old woman said. “It started with tacks. Then some nails. Then I had barbed wire and passed it through her and started yanking on one end. Then I thought that she clearly handled the pain quite well so I started up with gross things then. Carrion, uh, diseased flesh… I mean shit is the obvious one but God, I eat shit all the time it's hardly that bad.” (starting to think you need to read my monologues) (either capitalize this "t" > or use comma on last sentence <) the old woman smacked her lips together and chuckled. “So I got inventive. I tried stuffing animals in animals, miscarried children, liquefied fat, fermented blood, ummm… oh God let me think… there were a couple that really set me off. That was it!” she cried. “The syphilitic whore. Oooooh,” she cackled. “That one had me a good ‘un. I mean for fuck’s sake lad it was one big flappy boil. Size of a fuckin’ cricket ball it was! To think it started out as some poor slapper’s cli…” (you've been officially accepted into the darkside. Welcome!)

Andrew audibly swallowed, trying to keep his stomach from emptying itself on the floor. The old woman caught sight of this, and she smiled from ear to ear. She leant forward and whispered, “You know boy, she gobbled it up like a fucking dog. It’s cause when I put something on someone it doesn’t stop. It’s all in the words. Everything, the whole universe, it’s just someone else’s words—didn't you know? Ha… Can I ask?” she said, sitting back once more. “Haven’t you wondered why that ugly cunt is deaf?” The old woman jabbed her thumb back towards the kitchen where the orderly worked. “You must be expendable.” (lol)

“What...” Andrew paused. “Why is she deaf?”

“It’s in the words!” the old woman cried. “My voice was given to me by my dearest lover and it’s not theirs to take. It’s mine and it's the most powerful force anyone can ever feel in their hearts and minds. And I would normally take this opportunity to give you the worst day of your life. But,” she smiled knowingly at Andrew. “Why don’t you go back and tell them what I’ve told you. It’s not the first story I’ve told them. For all they know it’s true. I’ll let you off this time. It’s been a while since I’ve smelled a man.”

“Mrs. Wyttick,” Andrew said, standing up, preparing himself to leave. “I… I wasn’t just sent here to get a story. I was sent here to tell you something.”

“Oh I remember,” she said. “Spit it out! Spit it out out out out!”

“They told me to tell you that they’ve found her,” he said confidently. “And that you should prepare for what happens when direct evidence of your behaviour comes to light.”

“Fucking sluts,” the old woman hissed, waving her arm towards Andrew dismissively. “Wasting it they are. They’re wasting it hiding away like children. But not me! Well… go on then,” she added; her animated vigour growing muted, and dull. “Go away and tell them nothing, or everything. Just... Just shoo.”

Andrew began to walk away, feeling somehow vindicated by the sight of the old woman’s quiet and tempered reaction to the news that Annabelle had been found. He neglected to mention that they, in truth, only had a rough idea of where she might be. But it was pleasing nonetheless to see the vile old witch have to slow down, and recognize her coming fate at the hands of his employer.

“Good bye Mrs. Wyttick,” Andrew smiled, just before he left.

“Oh Andrew,” the old woman shouted as he approached the door. “About my gift… I made that fat little fucking sausage eat her own foot, and a million times worse have I wrought all across the Earth. Old worlds and new, I have shaped the destiny of wretched little cocks like you since the dawn of time. My first fuck toy was carved from mammoth tusk (incredible), boy. Even your employers are little more than whores who’ve cost me some time but not much. So you just bear in mind the next time you close your eyes and know that I'm still there in your head; I wouldn’t have a daughter if I was you.” The old woman roared with an unbelievable furore that seemed to shake the walls, “You wouldn’t be able to stop yourself!” (nice)

Andrew felt his heart sink as he left the door before he heard the woman bellow out a foul and piercing laugh. He wondered if anything she had said was true. He had put the entire experience down to dementia--he didn’t really believe her—but some part of him genuinely found her frightening. Her words seemed to have a tinny quality that sent them reflecting away inside his head until they sank into some unknown part of his mind, out of his reach and out of his grasp. He could barely recall the specifics of what she said, instead he only knew what she wanted. Or perhaps, he wondered, was it what he wanted? For a second he struggled to understand if there was a difference.

Not that it mattered, he thought, it was not like she could actually change how people behaved, and it was clearly just a coincidence that she mentioned a daughter. There was no way she could have known that he already had two. (fucking spot on. Jay wants more)

I really like this one, my friend. I feel like you occasional use commas when it's not really necessary, but I didn't want to point them out as it is a style choice and they aren't technically incorrect. I just wanted to mention that. I really don't have any other feedback except I want it to be longer : )