Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26241873-20160906031124/@comment-28266772-20160907140435

A note before I start – I’m sorry I never got around to reviewing your last story (Deal with a devil was it?) I’m pretty busy with collabs/competitions and uni work – it might be worth messaging a specific user to see if they can offer advice.

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My Travi$ Scott record! How could I fucking forget about Rodeo? I brought all of my favorite albums, and somehow I managed to forget one of the best LPs in my collection.

Ah, oh well. My Mark Lawrence novels always have always kept me entertained, so I’m not that worried. Plus I’m only going to be stranded here for about a week. I can keep myself pretty busy during my free time.

But shit, it’s been a minute since I even picked up this notebook. Thank God I spotted that bitch right before I left my house. I found it lying behind my cabinets with a thin blanket of dust on top of the leather binding. I flipped through the pages and found diary entries back from 2014! Jesus, what an idiot I was back then. That one section about how much I thought I loved Sharon’s sister made me shit myself. I dodged a bullet breaking up with that bitch. '[there’s a massive tonal/content break here that feels weird. Goes from Sharon’s sister to feel isolated and scared – think you need a more natural way to move between these two places] 'I feel isolated and abandoned here, but in a way a bit excited. At the same time, however, this place gives me the goddamn creeps. Santiago gave me some articles and notes about this specific nuclear power plant. I skimmed through them bitches, and discovered some interesting facts about Hope Creek Nuclear Generating Station. Holy shit that’s a mouthful.

I glanced at some of the pictures taken here before the nuclear spill, and it looks [looked] beautiful compared to the [this] wasteland the government stationed me in [some of this wording feels vague at times]. Shit is just scattered everywhere. The explosion removed huge chunks off some of the steam turbines and factories. As I flew over the landscape inside a helicopter, I spotted smoke and gas still hissing out of all the generators.

I ask myself, “What it [in] God’s name made me think it’d be a great idea to accept this job?” I guess the money proved to be a very persuasive incentive, but the danger that’s involved here intimidates me. I wish to tell my futures kids this insane story in order to teach them a valuable lesson: Fuck student loans. Screw college. The education sucked, and my bachelor’s degree in English just sits on my desk, collecting dust and serving no useful purpose.

But hey, thanks to this job, I now own half a million in my bank account! '[I feel like the order of ideas here is a bit odd – it’s “why did I accept this job? Money. But there’s danger. But I’ll have a story. And half a million” – I think the amount of cash should be put up there with the money so it’s all one big, obvious incentive, then followed by the secondary incentive of a good story. As it is it feels like it’s just pinging from idea to idea to cover as much exposition as possible. He says there’s danger, but then immediately talks about how cool it’ll be to tell his kids the story – those two things don’t feel related]' I may not even pursue a job in teaching high school students anymore. This money gives me a myriad number [myriad is a noun so it doesn’t need to be followed by ‘number’] of opportunities to follow new goals, and a chance to travel the world as I always dreamt of doing. I can [I don’t know why but this sentence just reads better with ‘could’] even start my career as a novelist if I wanted to.



At first the work seemed complicated, but Santiago helped me and explained everything better. But during these last few weeks at training, I developed a rather insane—but completely legitimate—theory of how the State of New Jersey, and maybe even the federal government, operates.

So this nuclear explosion occurs just a month ago in June, and this entire place goes ape-shit. Dozens of people die, some manage to escape with both minor and serious injuries, and a few unfortunate individuals go missing. New Jersey orders the entire Salem County to evacuate, sending thousands of southern NJ residents up north. I wonder how those bitches plan on surviving in some place like Jersey City.

Anyways, calamity takes place, and it leaves South Jersey in a shit-storm. We all know after Chernobyl the results of a disastrous nuclear spill. I know very little about radiation isotopes and all that business, but apparently everyone seemed shock [shocked] to discover how hostile the land became [became –> feels clunky in its use here]. It wasn’t as dramatic as what happened in Ukraine, but people did raise their eyebrows at the statistics.

News about this event circulates all over the internet and media, from Twitter to the New York Times. I remember overhearing a report about it on television, but paid little attention since it involved South Jersey. But damn, in a few weeks, who would’ve thought that this would be something of my interest.

Santiago informs me about a huge job opportunity working with the State of New Jersey. I guess he noticed my financial crisis, and wanted to help me out in my need of salvation. We suffered through some tough shit together as kids. Pedro still wears that scar on his cheek from that time Santiago tried to stab him when he almost hit Camila. I never liked my uncle much either. Santiago was the first to defend our aunt, and I’ll always look up to him for that.

But here I begin my speculation. It just so happens to be that around the time the power plant went haywire, the government were in the midst of developing brand new equipment meant for exploring areas with tremendous ranges of radioactivity. These bastards went above and beyond in designing their gear. The first time I glimpsed at the shit they made I thought I entered a Sci-Fi [not sure sci-fi should be capitalized] movie.

'[So far we’ve had a lot of exposition only to cover a really basic and simple set of ideas. There’s a main character who used to be a teacher, hit a roadblock financially, and volunteered to work at a powerplant that caused a Chernobyl-style disaster in South Jersey. It’s dangerous, but he wants the money and was introduced to the job by his friend Santiago. You really don’t need 800 words of exposition to cover such a basic premise.]'

<p class="MsoNormal">The suit caught my attention right away. I fell in love with it at first sight. Its thick, [this comma feels awkward] grey material reminds me of the armor worn by Zer0 in Borderlands 2. The helmet that accompanies the suit makes me want to gag, barf, and shoot myself all in one motion. It looks like an astronaut’s helmet, but with a smaller mirror, and a huge hump at the back that makes it seem as if there’s a tumor growing out of my head. Ugliest thing in the world.

<p class="MsoNormal">The best invention, however, is the igloo that serves as my home for the week here. The giant dome provides enough space for me to live comfortably. I managed to settle in all of my stuff without everything being cramped together. Not only that, but this igloo comes with AC, so I can sleep at night without my balls dripping sweat.

<p class="MsoNormal">And here you find me, a young man straight out of college, still in his prime of age [awkward wording i.e. prime will do on its own just fine], and with enough ambition to travel new lengths '[travel new lengths – this is also worded weirdly. People say “Travel great distances; go to great lengths” – they don’t really merge the two]'. Let’s not forget my debt, however, because clearly the banks weren’t fond of allowing that to slip through their minds. These mother fuckers crawled up my ass every week to remind me of my atrocious situation. My table began piling up so many bills I got a goddamn migraine every time the mailman came by. '[Again we already know why he’s doing this. This is a redundant couple of sentences]'

<p class="MsoNormal">Santiago tells me they need someone to do something very special and unique. He starts filling me in with details. I hear everything he says with minor concentration '[can you really ‘hear’ with concentration? Or do you ‘listen with concentration’ instead?]'. At that time, I lost all hope of escaping out of '[escaping out of – redundant wording. Escaping will do on its own] the grave I dug myself in [same here – dug myself on its own is fine]'. Plus the government promised me funds and support before I accumulated so much debt, and when shit hit the fan, they turned their backs at me. So I stopped trusting them. [this line doesn’t make a whole load of sense]

<p class="MsoNormal">But then Santiago mentions half a million dollars, and my ears tingle with curiosity. [you change tense too much for me to make not of it so I’ll point it out here – you change tense all the fucking time and you need to keep it consistent]

<p class="MsoNormal">I accepted his offer without hesitation, even though I rarely had a clue of what I just signed up for. That night I took a good look at my apartment. I saw my fridge empty except some water bottles and a few apples. The cabinets remained vacant. The bills stacked as tall as Mount Everest. Even if this job involved sacrificing my soul, I think I’d still comply.

<p class="MsoNormal">In retrospect, I know these bastards took advantage of me. Of course Santiago was just looking out for me, but everyone else realized my deranged state, and decided to use me as their little lab rat to test their equipment. I mean I can’t complain, really. I’m half a mill richer than I was a week ago, plus I get to use top-notch technology hidden from the public. '[Can I just say that we have taken over 1200 words to arrive at the start of the damned story. More than this you recap some basic ideas like three times just to reach here]'

<p class="MsoNormal">So at this very moment, life seems pretty awesome. Tomorrow I begin my short career as a Nuclear Investigator. (Yeah, I just made that up!) The State also requested for me to snoop around the area, and gather any evidence or artifacts that may benefit further experiments, and prevent future power plants from collapsing and blah, blah, blah. I [I’d] rather not step a foot outside, however.

<p class="MsoNormal">The alienation [alienation requires other people; think you mean isolation] bothers me a bit. I like socializing, but this small period of time in solitary confinement may do me some well. I just wish someone camped with me here. Oh well.

<p class="MsoNormal">My CDs are calling me, as well are my novels. Plus my wrist hurts from all this scribbling. Until next time.

<p class="MsoNormal">Day 2: J.E. Number 99

<p class="MsoNormal">I left my igloo this morning without the slightest clue of what awaited me outside. Even now my fingers shake by how anxious I feel. Shit, man…

<p class="MsoNormal">I went outside around the break of dawn. I gathered all of my necessities, which included my armor, of course, some disposable bags, a compass in case I got lost, and a few [some/‘few bits of’] other equipment.

<p class="MsoNormal">I took a good look around the area, and decided to start my expedition towards the east side where a lot of the broken steam turbines stood. During my walk there I collected a few things lying on the ground. The most common things included pieces of clothing ripped into shreds, and a flutter [flutter can only describe an act not a specific object] of papers torn off of books.

<p class="MsoNormal">The white cloth resembled the material used in lab coats. I picked up some of the papers, and read through the words that I understood. They talked a lot about the machinery involved in nuclear power plants, and displayed in-depth blueprints of how to construct and disassemble those machines. It all looked like ancient writing to me, so I just stuffed the papers in my bags and moved along.

<p class="MsoNormal">Once I reached the steam turbines, I began observing them and jotting down notes of what I saw different [awkward wording]. As I circled around the giant towers, I noticed something peculiar about a specific turbine.

<p class="MsoNormal">I spotted a blotch of red stuff smeared on the surface of the tower. The closer I came to it, the more details unfolded [think about this sentence and how stupidly obvious it is]. At first I thought that red shit was just rust or something, but a better look at it revealed to me that it was dry blood.

<p class="MsoNormal">I halted the minute I noticed it. Shit, who am I kidding? I almost pissed my pants. I ran closer, and stood inches away from the dry blood. Not only was there blood, but also several scratch marks engraved deep inside the steel surface. Pieces of chipped off nails stuck in between the narrow lines. I removed a piece of the nail for closer observation. [this piece of a story is called the hook – it needs to be put out there much faster than it has been here]

<p class="MsoNormal">I tried to decode from what animal did this nail belonged to [super awkward way of saying a simple idea]. At first I assumed it came from a wolf or some other canine specie [canine species]. Santiago told me a story in Chernobyl where a pack of wolves inhabited the area a couple of years after everyone evacuated the place. He said that some animals tend to claim land abandoned by humans since the radioactivity doesn’t affect them the way it affects us [it affects them exactly how it affects us – it’s just that humans are way more lethal to animals than radiation so they thrive in abandoned places like Fukushima and Chernobyl].

<p class="MsoNormal">But a more thorough analysis exposed an unsettling truth. It looked similar to my own nail. The one I picked up, however, was way sharper than my well-groomed nails, but only an idiot can [would] say they didn’t look the same. This was when I began panicking.

<p class="MsoNormal">I grew tensed [tense], and decided to move along in order to rid my mind of the terrors creeping up my spine. I spent the rest of the day and evening walking new distances [this just doesn’t sound right], scavenging more artifacts, and admiring the view this place offers.

<p class="MsoNormal">I gotta say, despite my animosity towards South Jersey, it’s a pretty place. H.P.N.G.S was built right next to the Atlantic Ocean, so towards the end of the afternoon I made a small trip near the shore. I overlooked the ocean beyond. I may go there during the next few days just to capture the view better. The government never said anything about not exploring that area, so I see no problem.

<p class="MsoNormal">I wish my day ended like that, but that wasn’t the case. Night was taking over the sky, and the State ordered me to be inside my igloo right when it hits twilight. I rushed towards my dome in a hurry. Running inside that armor proved to be challenging, however. Especially with that goddamn helmet. Jesus, I wanted to rip that shit off my head already.

<p class="MsoNormal">I made it close to my small hut, but then noticed the steam turbines again. My fucking curiosity got the best of me, and I took the risk of approaching them. At this point the sky was painted a dark blue, and the temperature dropped around the mid-sixties.

<p class="MsoNormal">I made a lot of mistakes in my life. I chose an expensive college. I cheated on some of my best girlfriends. I once thought I could climb up a building all the way to the roof without falling and getting hurt. I ended up breaking two of my bones, and fracturing my elbow. So yeah, I can be pretty fucking reckless. But the shit I managed here tops all of those stupid moments.

<p class="MsoNormal">I approached the steam turbine with the scratch marks and blood. The second I glanced at that specific area again, I fell backwards and yelped.

<p class="MsoNormal">Someone or something spilled new blood over the already dry mark. Some of it still dripped down and made a small puddle on the ground below. New engravings also emerged. This time the creature dug deeper inside, and formed larger slants than the previous ones.

<p class="MsoNormal">That wasn’t even the worst part. Thinking about it now as I write this, I can’t help but to feel scared for my life. This fear feels new to me. I sense it close to my conscious [consciousness/conscience] and heart. Every second I spend pondering about it puts me in a hostile state. I try to avoid being paranoid, but my isolation worries me the most.

<p class="MsoNormal">Raw meat was mixed in with the blood and nails. Huge chunks of flesh covered in blood joined the leaves on the ground. I almost vomited the moment I spotted the mess. It smelled of something vile and disgruntling. Black craters decorated most of the meat. [I thought this guy was in a giant hazmat suit that protected against radiation?]

<p class="MsoNormal">I reached down to retrieve the piece of flesh, but stopped when I noticed something else. A line of newly wedded blood ran across the steam turbine. It looked painted on purpose, as if the artist wanted me to follow the trail. I grabbed a flashlight from my pouch, and sparked a small yellow light.

<p class="MsoNormal">And at that same moment I dropped my flashlight.

<p class="MsoNormal">Two letters were written in cursive. R and u. It looked like the user tried to scribble down a third letter, but dashed away, leaving a print of blood right next to the other two letters.

<p class="MsoNormal">I try to deny what my mind assumes, but now I stand correct when I say the person or whoever did that fucking massacre tried to write an n. I took that sign literal [literally], grabbed my stuff, and sprinted out of that bitch with my heart stuck in my throat.

<p class="MsoNormal">I felt exhausted from all the walking I did that evening, but used fear as a force to push me forward. I grew paranoid. The feeling of someone stalking me amplified when I heard the crunching of leaves a couple of inches behind me. I ran so fucking fast I could’ve competed against Usain Bolt.

<p class="MsoNormal">Before I entered my igloo and trapped myself inside, I saw one last thing that topped every other shit I witnessed from then. Those same pieces of clothing I discovered earlier in the day returned to litter the ground. This time, however, the cloth was flooded with blood.

<p class="MsoNormal">I wanted nothing more but to return home and cry in my bed. What the fuck is happened [has happened/is happening]? Shit like this ain’t ordinary. I tried contacting Santiago and the State to inform them of what’s going on, but the reception here sucks. I could find better connection in Uganda stuck inside a fucking mud house!

<p class="MsoNormal">I need to maintain my composure. Panicking and squealing like a little bitch won’t do shit to help me. Right now I’m just trying to find things to distract myself. Writing this entire episode of madness helped. So far nothing bizarre has happened yet. The government made this igloo out of titanium steel and a bunch of other impervious metals, so I feel well-secured.

<p class="MsoNormal">Still, now I know what type of horrors await me outside. I don’t even know if I can muster up the guts to leave this dome again.

<p class="MsoNormal">Imma wait until I can contact my people again. Afterwards I’ll decide what my next step will be.

<p class="MsoNormal">For now…well I guess I should sleep. I need to rest, and rid myself from all this stressing.

<p class="MsoNormal">Paulo Coelho, please drift me away into one of your adventures…

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Day 3: Entry 10

<p class="MsoNormal">Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Oh my freaking God! Somebody please help me.

<p class="MsoNormal">I saw them. I saw those fucking beasts. I don’t even know what the hell to call them. Jesus they looked hideous…

<p class="MsoNormal">I left my igloo this morning. Same routine. I walked around. Picked up some things. I tried contacting the State all night yesterday and early this morning, but something keeps on fucking malfunctioning. These damn bastards leave me with state-of-the-art technology able to withstand radioactivity, yet they fail to deliver me a proper set of antennas to talk with them! What the shit!

<p class="MsoNormal">Anyways, towards the end of the day I visited the shore as I planned on doing. I trudged through the sand and across the horizon. I retrieved some shells and other objects I found lying around. I stayed near the ocean until the sun starting setting. I wanted to see the early glimmers of sunlight as the ocean swallowed it whole and drowned away its light. [I find it hard to believe this guy would do this when he is 100% certain he is not alone, and is appropriately scared shitless]

<p class="MsoNormal">It was a beautiful moment, one that I won’t forget. It began getting dark. I learned my mistake from yesterday. I jogged out of the shore and towards my igloo. I needed to pass through a large field of crops, however, in order to make it to the other side. I dove inside the wheat field, and cut through all the leaves and vines whipping my face.

<p class="MsoNormal">Halfway through the field I heard the rustling of leaves behind me. I paused, and almost stumbled to the ground. I stood still, and kept my ears perked. The crops towered over me, so they blocked out most of the moonlight above. Shadows crisscrossed all over my face and body. I was a bit lost.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">I picked up my pacing one by one. I took small and quiet footsteps. My feet barely left a footprint on the soil. I concentrated on my breathing, and made sure to steady the beating of my heart. Even though the air grew thin, the humidity suffocated me, and my fears chocked me from the inside, I focused on only leaving this maze and arriving back to base. I blew away any other worry or problem.

<p class="MsoNormal">Something snapped behind me. It sounded like bones breaking.

<p class="MsoNormal">I shriek [shrieked], and this time I fell. Vines and crops wrapped around my feet and legs. I was unable to move.

<p class="MsoNormal">I sat up, and tried untangling the vines from my limbs. It was impossible. I spent a good five minutes just trying to free myself. At this point my vision [was] impaired, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. My insides felt weird.

<p class="MsoNormal">Another snap rang through the night. Before I even had time to react, I felt someone or something breathe down my neck. The air felt warm and moist, yet it sent chills running down my spine all the way to the bones in my legs. The hairs on my arms prickled up. Every ounce of terror seized my body, and crumbled me from the inside.

<p class="MsoNormal">Something gripped my shoulder. I turned to look, and saw something I can only guess was a hand. A human hand, yet it appeared far from that. The first layer of skin was removed, exposing muscle and raw meat. The hand looked dipped in an ocean of blood. Little black moles covered most of the knuckles and palms.

<p class="MsoNormal">And then the fingers…The fingers freaked me out the most. They had no nails. Every last inch [of what?] was removed. The places where the nails were supposed to be were replaced with blood and pudgy fat. I just baby barfed thinking about it.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Run,” a deep voice whispered right next to me. A wave of burning breath entombed my ear in heat.

<p class="MsoNormal">I fucking ran.

<p class="MsoNormal">The vines caught around my ankles broke free with the amount of speed I picked up in such a short amount of time. I don’t even know what occurred next. My world transformed to a void of blurriness and distortion. I only remember short frames of time. Before I knew it, I managed to sprint all the way from the field to the front of my dome without stopping to rest. I barged inside, swiped the locks in place, and dropped dead on the floor.

<p class="MsoNormal">I don’t know what to do now. I think someone damaged the antennas. I’m not picking up a single signal anywhere. I tried everything. Hell, I even shouted for help, but it was all pointless. I’m stuck in the middle of a deserted wasteland, intoxicated with radioactivity that can poison me from the inside and dissolve my organs and all kinds of sick shit.

<p class="MsoNormal">I skimmed through the files I found yesterday, and discovered something very suspicious. I didn’t take a good look at all the papers before, but now I’m skeptical about what’s going on. Most of the sheets contained information about the generators, which were the machines that malfunctioned and caused the nuclear spill in the first place. Every paragraph went in heavy detail about what goes on, and what chemicals react and all that stuff.

<p class="MsoNormal">The blueprints bring up the most speculation. Some of them contain hand-written notes from other scientists. I see a bunch of arrows and symbols, but nothing I understand completely. But I’m starting to think that this was an inside job. I know that sounds insane and all, but

<p class="MsoNormal">Oh fuck! I hear them! Oh my fucking god! They’re outside right now. They’re screaming. They’re knocking on the doors. This entire igloo is shaking!

<p class="MsoNormal">I don’t know what to do. Oh god please someone help me. I can’t think straight right now I don’t know what to do or what’s going on I need help and I can’t stop feeling scared. What the hell do I do!

<p class="MsoNormal">Why can’t I receive reception! C’mon dammit!

<p class="MsoNormal">They’re screaming help. I hear two distinct voices. They both sound in deep agony. They keep on bumping their fists and yelling at the top of their lungs. I’m crying right now. I never felt this scared before. I never want to feel this way again. It hurts so much. I want to go home. I miss my friends. I miss my parents. [would he really be writing during this all?]

<p class="MsoNormal">The shouting cease to an end [redundant – it either ceases, or it ends]. Silence takes over. I don’t know what’s going on outside. One second I hear the shrilling voices of some wild animal going berserk. The next second I hear nothing.

<p class="MsoNormal">What the fuck! They’re screaming again, but this time it’s worst [worse]. Someone or something else arrived. I hear a third voice. This one sounds deeper. It growls the closer it runs. The other two voices are shouting help again, and continue their banging. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who they are or what they are. All I know is that something followed me home.

<p class="MsoNormal">I tried calling out to the other two voices, but they don’t seem to comprehend what I’m saying. They keep yelling help and to open the door. I tell them to calm down and to communicate with me, but they don’t listen. The other voice grows louder. The ground rumbles.

<p class="MsoNormal">I received a signal! Oh thank god. I need to-

<p class="MsoNormal">Part of the door broke free! Oh my fucking god what is that thing? It looks huge! It’s bleeding everywhere. I see no skin or flesh. Just bones and all these black marks.

<p class="MsoNormal">I can’t do anything but write. Oh my god he’s stomping on them! He’s butchering them alive. He pulled out their limbs. Stop! I’m yelling stop! What the hell is go

<p class="MsoNormal">[So this is where the diary format completely breaks down – the image of this guy scrawling out what happens in real time is hilarious, and not at all believable]

<p class="MsoNormal">Day:??? Journal Entry ???

<p class="MsoNormal">No time to put on armor. Receiving heavy doses of radioactivity. Only took notebook and pen before I escaped igloo. Feel nauseous. My skin…It’s peeling off. I can’t think straight.

<p class="MsoNormal">I ran towards the ocean. It’s my paradise. I see hope and bliss on the other side. I try walking towards the sand, but my feet began hurting. The skin on my heels and toes started bleeding and molding. I tried crawling, but my arms began bleeding. The sand burns. Everything burns. I feel trapped inside an oven. Everything scorches my flesh.

<p class="MsoNormal">I wish I BROUght '[is this meant to be messed? I get it if it is] 'my books. that’d be nice. i want to read. I wish i could listen to my music. i think I hear J. Cole singing…

<p class="MsoNormal">He’s coming again. i Can’t escape him. he was too focus on the other two, but he will arrive for me soon. i saw his eyes. They looked human…I saw sorrow in hIs gaze.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">I want to die. Go to hell God! Fuck. Fuck. I want my sister! Where does heaven exist? The waves push the sand. I want to die. I want to die. I want

<p class="MsoNormal">I hear him now. He sneaks through the crops. I hear his voice. He calls my presence. A shadow casts over M

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">When the search party, the State of New Jersey, the Federal government, and Santiago all discovered what happened to Thomas Francisco, dismay and shock struck all of their hearts. But despite the guilt, resentment, and pain they carried after what occurred, the one thing that terrified and shocked them the most was the message inscribed on Thomas’s stomach. The whereabouts of who eviscerated Thomas and the two other missing scientist is still undiscovered.

<p class="MsoNormal">The message read: You’re next

<p class="MsoNormal">[Thuper cheesy ending]

<p class="MsoNormal">-

<p class="MsoNormal">Mechanical issues – plenty. Strange wording, redundancies, tense changes etc. Beyond that though I notice a general trend towards a high quality of writing.

<p class="MsoNormal">Style issues – So I haven’t drawn direct attention to it (aside from somewhere near the start) but your ideas don’t always flow naturally from one to the other. Also you make very little effort to build mood or atmosphere. Perhaps the biggest problem is that you have a lot of tonal dissonance. This is meant to be a scary story about isolation and fear but the narrator is all over the place with the way he speaks. Sometimes he sounds formal, sometimes he sounds relaxed and chill, other times he sounds like an idiot.

<p class="MsoNormal">Plot issues – so once again there’s redundancy all over the place. 1500 words to start the story is ridiculous when it’s a pretty clichéd premise. You need to learn to trust your audience – they don’t need a lot of information to guess what’s happening. Each paragraph should state one simple idea, and then the next one should state a different idea, and in an order that makes sense. You seem to flitter back and forth between a lot of different ideas and end up repeating a load of them. This means that it takes nearly 2000 words to get to the first hook of the story and that’s just simply too long for an amateur short story on the internet. Similarly the plot structure doesn’t make a whole load of sense – you need to find a more natural, and logical reason, for this guy to write a diary while people get eaten in front of him. Also the events of the story don’t seem to line up with the setting in a meaningful way – it’s just a nuclear powerplant so I guess we’re meant to assume these are the mutated remains of the population? If so why is one so dangerous, and the others not?

<p class="MsoNormal">Also the ending is very clichéd.