Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25148755-20160708052804/@comment-28266772-20160708153717

I swore an oath to myself that never again would I be deprived of modern convenience, that the most daring [not sure you can use daring as a noun like you do here, but I might be wrong] I would undertake would be through new culinary experience, or perhaps seducing the exotic princess of a foreign land [so this is how Bowser got started]. I threw myself into this newly chosen lifestyle with gusto, and can accordingly mark with some significant accuracy when father’s eventual hatred of me took on a more active role in our relationship.

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Just so, I have utterly failed to convince anyone else to the verity [I cannot find records of the word ‘verity’ outside of its use as a feminine name – do you mean veracity?] of such tales, and have subsequently ceased to make the attempt less [I think ‘lest’ works better here] they think me more cracked [the use of the word cracked feels unnecessarily ambiguous] than father was in his final days. No matter. They were not there, they did not see what my eyes beheld then, or since. Indeed, much as my expedition with father first opened my mind to the nature of a privileged life, so too did his death widen my perspective to those ungodly, hidden things with which men share this world, silently walking among us like a ravenous jaguar stalking through the Amazonian canopy [feels like an unnecessarily on-the-nose callback].

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Mr. Giles ordered the foremen to interview the laborers, individually and in small groups, forcefully enough to determine they were being truthful in their ignorance as to the nature of the disappearances [this sentence’s structure feels awkward]. Indeed, all that was ascertained by the inquiry was that the victims had to this point all been young men between the age of sixteen and thirty, and all had vanished sometime during the hours past sundown. Confirming a further lack of knowledge among the general population, Mr. Giles proceeded along a logical line of reasoning. It was not unheard of for a local predator to gain a taste for man-flesh [man-flesh feels awkward but that might just be my own repressed memories – perhaps ‘human-flesh’ would be better], much as in the case of Mr. Casper’s undignified demise. The foremen organized a rotating series of hunting parties to conduct forays into the jungle, searching for some sign of the murderous beast or its victims, to no avail.

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Since an active confrontation with the culprit had proven unsatisfactory, a number of clever devices were rigged near the perimeter of the plantation itself [not sure ‘itself’ does anything but clutter here] as well as outside the small adjoining village in which the majority of the workers lived. Mr. Giles’ overseers were a hard, experienced lot and comprised a broad collective knowledge of fieldcraft and ingenuity, reflected in the nature of their improvised booby traps. Tiger pits from Burma, mancatchers from Malaysia, Punji stakes, dead falls, and a dozen other such deadly workings were employed, their construction taking on a competitive air as each man sought to outdo his compatriots. But despite these herculean efforts, the disappearances continued unabated until almost a tenth of Mr. Giles [missing apostrophe] force had gone missing.

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Now, having departed from New York to the port of Cartagena, I have nothing to do but wait until I make my landing. I wrote ahead to Mr. Giles requesting he provide an escort to meet my ship and guide me to the plantation. With luck I shall avoid the pitfalls of my previous excursion here, and ought to be arrived to the property within [the] month.

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The situation at the plantation has degraded far worse than reported in Mr. Giles letter. Good weather favored my ship’s passage and I was pleasantly surprised to be met upon debarcation [debarkation] by Mr. Lyle McCready within Mr. Giles employ. A veteran of the Indian Wars, Mr. McCready is a strong, capable sort[I think a comma here would help the flow] if in possession of something of a sour disposition.

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The mood of our little party took a discernible [discernible] downturn this morning as we neared our destination, and soon all traces of goodwill had retreated from Mr. McCready’s stony countenance.

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Passing between the fields of rotted [rotten/rotted? Am not sure which would be better] plants, we at last reached the facility proper. It appeared much as I remembered from my youth, a high wire fence surrounding the large drying shacks and mills adjoining a modest administrative building which served as both office and living area for Mr. Giles and the overseers. A bit farther down the road I could just spy the small outcrop of buildings comprising the worker’s [workers’] village.

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<p class="MsoNormal">Placing the idol in my pocket I moved to rouse the men and continue [continued] our pursuit when I discovered that Mr. Buckwald had vanished.

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<p class="MsoNormal">So overall thought this was an awesome story – I think you nailed the character’s voice and I enjoyed it a lot, but the story is severely hamstrung by the ending. It suffers enormously because it essentially fizzles out with no real conclusion. Furthermore, there is an inordinate amount of time spent developing things that aren’t necessary to the core plot including the initial journey there as a young man, the narrator’s relationship with his father, and much more – none of which tie into the themes, character, setting or plot in a meaningful way. Do we really need the details of how a man is murdered by a jaguar when it establishes nothing more than “the jungle is dangerous” – an idea that can be invoked far more economically without the expense of nearly a hundred words. There are plenty of other examples of similar plot points.

<p class="MsoNormal">The story pretty much starts when the narrator arrives at the plantation the second time to begin his hunt for the monster. But by that point too much has been spent telling us that this guy enjoys the comforts of modern life and has daddy issues, so we end up only getting a taster of brutal monster murder (which, let’s not forget, is the real attraction). Adding to this is the fact that the characterization of the narrator doesn’t tie into the themes or plot either. There are numerous instances where this man is shown to be quite unpleasant and unlikeable, but it leads nowhere. It is characterization for the sake of characterization.

<p class="MsoNormal">Overall I would suggest restructuring this story – trimming down the first half of the story, and using the newly acquired space to write a new ending that takes the narrator’s extensive characterization and does something meaningful with it. What was perhaps most disappointing is that you come very close to achieving this by forcing him to have to make a choice between two men, either of which could be the monster. But he shoots them both with no real consequence to the plot. This is a lost opportunity and I think the fundamental premise of his decision and its consequences should be expanded upon, taking all of the disparate pieces currently present in your story (such as the characterization of the narrator, and the sequence of events), and tying them together so that the work as a whole feels more cohesive and meaningful.

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