Mighty Bright Book Lights

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Do you think that I wrote this scene well? The scene takes place way into the book, so you're going to be a little confused. Sorry about that. Basically my main character is being dragged of to jail. A huge fight scene occurs before this. I don't know, this scene was just difficult to write. Well, that's not true. It actually came very naturally but I'm not sure that I captured the right tone. What do you think? Please give me your feedback, this a very important scene. Oh, and I apalogize if there are any spelling or grammar errors. I'm not perfect and neither is spell check. And I haven't had my mom edit this part yet :) Scene She grabbed my hand and began pulling me back in the direction of the forest. We did it! The thought flashed bright and triumphant in my mind. We’re going to get away! The hope fueled my strength just as the anger had. And then something grabbed my ankle and I plummeted downward. “Holly!” I shrieked. Holly spun and grabbed my hand, holding tightly onto hit, trying to drag me towards her. But the vampire was too strong and he was holding both of my ankles, rather than just one of my sweaty hands, and he pulled me back towards him. And then his partner joined him and I knew that there was no hope. The strength drained from me faster than a shooting star streaking across the night sky. My eyes met Holly’s and I knew that she saw something in them. Her eyes widened in panic and tears began to stream from them. “No! Lily, please don’t.” She dug her finger nails into the back of my hand and gave a mighty tug. But it made no difference. Her hair stuck to her cheeks that were coated with sweat and tears and smears of blood. Whether the blood was mine or hers I knew not. “I’m sorry,” I whispered and let my hand slip out of hers. Her scream of shock and rage and betrayal was more painful than anything I had ever felt. It cut me like a knife. It burned me like fire. I buried my head into my chest as the vampire scooped me up and threw me into the back of the metal thing. “Say goodbye to your little friend, witch,” the vampire hissed, his eyes glinting in the semi darkness. I dragged myself across the icy metal floor and put my face as close to his as I dared. “Don’t you dare hurt her,” I growled. The vampire laughed. The moment he stopped his face grew grave and his eyes seemed to glaze over. “We don’t hurt the innocent,” he said. “She has no blood on her hands.” I pulled myself into the corner and watched as the beam of light grew smaller as the door swung shut. I heard the cold laughter of the vampires, heard the screams of triumph from the crowd, and heard something else. A scream that came from Holly’s throat. She was screaming my name. “No! Lily, no! Please! Please, don’t give up!” Her screams grew louder and increasingly frantic as the beam of light grew smaller. “NO! LILY! LILY! FIGHT! FIGHT, DAMN IT! LILY!” The last thing I saw was a flash of her face before the door closed and I was plummeted into complete darkness. I buried my face into my knees and let the hot tears stream down my face. They were taking me away, taking me to a place what I couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. Including Holly. I could still hear her muffled screams even with the door shut. I drew myself close to the door and pressed my ear and palm against it, imagining that my palm was touching hers. I squeezed my fist together, imagining that my fingers were knotting around hers. “I’m so sorry, Holly,” I whispered, knowing that there was no way that she would hear me. “You’ll never know how sorry I am.” There was a loud boom and the wall that I was leaning against shook violently. Holly had thrown herself against the door in a desperate attempt to break it down. “NO!” I screamed, pounding on the door with my fists. “STOP IT, HOLLY! STOP IT! YOU’LL HURT YOURSELF!” “Lily!” she gasped and pounded on the door back to me. “Lily, I’m coming for you, I promise.” “No, Holly, don’t!” “I am! I’m coming, I promise.” “Don’t!” I shouted. “Please, don’t!” “Lily, I love you! I’m not going to let them take you away from me!” “No! If you really love me you’ll let them take me. Promise me that you won’t come.” There was silence on the other side. “Promise!” “I promise.” Holly’s voice was thick with tears. I heard her sob and lean against the wall. I sobbed loudly and leaned against the wall too. “I love you too, Holly,” I whispered. I couldn’t hear anything but Holly’s sobs. There was a soft bumping sound as something small pressed against the metal wall separating us. Her hand. I closed my eyes and pressed my palm to where the sound had come from, to where hers was. I imagined that I could feel her soft skin against mine; that I could curl my fingers down to lock them with hers. The metal cart gave a shutter and I could feel it roll forward. Holly’s sobs ceased and I could hear her screaming again. Something occurred to me in the moments before I passed out cold on the floor of the cart that was dragging me away. That w That was the first time that I had ever told Holly that I loved her, and I wasn’t even sure that she had heard me. Okay, that's the end of it. Thank you for taking the time to read it! Thanks. I agree with what you said about excess, I have always had a huge problm with being consise. Well, they're not actually in love, they just love each other as sisters. But I agree, it should be easier to find a book like that :) thanks for the suggestions! that was intense!
i have a few suggestions:
when you say "hot tears," i imagine like...something other than what i think you're trying to convey. maybe just say tears, or even "burning" tears.. something along those line.
and when it says: “I promise.” Holly’s voice was thick with tears. I heard her sob and lean against the wall. I sobbed loudly and leaned against the wall too.
I think you should say something like...:
“I promise.” Holly’s voice was thick with tears. I heard her sob and lean against the wall. I too sobbed and leaned toward the wall....and then go on to say why... something like: for i knew our future would never be the same. or something (i'm no writer!)
and the last thing:
I couldn’t hear anything but Holly’s sobs.
i think it would sound better if you said:
I could hear nothing but Holly's sobs.
hope it helped a bit (:
i really liked the scene, too!
edit:
p.s. i would love to see the finished product (:

help with poem and rhythm !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!? okay so my teacher told our class to redoe the last section of a poem, in our book. and it has to be about Casey winning the game, by making the homerun thing. we also need to have the exact same rhythm as they used in the section, and 12-15 sylables in each stanza. heres the poem: Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout but there is no joy in mudville: Mighty Casey has struck out btw the first two last words in each sentence have to rhyme like lines 1&2 rhyme lines 3&4 rhyme Hope this is what you want.
Now Casey stands his ground once more, the bat gripped in his hands,
loyal fans spring up to clap, wild cheering from the stands.
The ball is thrown as Casey swings, the ball flies straight and true,
Another game, another win for Casey and his crew.

What are your thoughts on my story? What should I add or delete? Please help Meh!? My story dates back to 486 b.c in the Persian Empire. one night a farmer named Aahil sees a bright light descend on the mountains. He goes to inquire the next morning and finds that a beautiful girl wearing platinum and gold garments adorned with black & white gemstones has fallen down from who knows but most likely from the heavens, Period. He takes her home and after 3 days she gains conscience and blesses Aahil with a power, the power to bring into life anything which Aahil imagines. So, the first thing Aahil does is that he imagines that he is the Shah of the Persian Empire and he becomes one. The only flaw was that once imagined it could not be reversed. So, there is our hero an Emperor of the one of the mightiest Empire in the world. Did I say 480 bc, didn't Rome rise in the 476 b.c. Btw- Her name is Juvhirah Aahil must use his divine power to conquer Greece and Aahil manages to conquer Rome but Aahil has no idea that Greece is the land of the Goddess named "Touzak" enemy to Goddess Juvhirah. War breaks out between the two Goddesses and Aahil helps Juvhirah win the battle. Aahil has to kill million of soldiers and seeing all this he changes his mind. And in the end he tells Juvhirah to take away the power given to him and she also switches back time to 486 b.c. Aahil goes back to farming and suddenly he imagines that he was an Emperor of Persia again and poof he is the Emperor. Did Juvhirah forget to take away his powers or did she intentionally not removed it because she knows that Aahil will take Persian Empire to Glory. It's on Part 2 of the book. @Anonymous- Thanks, I love to write and no matter what you tell me I won't stop writing. It is better than being a Musician which is only done by sons of whores Don't stop writing but change your plot. There have been hundreds of modern epic fantasy and swords and sandals adventures that take place in Europe. You can write one that takes place in the Persian Empire but during another time and under another dynasty. The world is unfamiliar with the Sassanian Dynasty of Persia which was at the end of the classical period and the beginning of the medieval period. They had the mightiest army in the world(again) but this army was much smaller and used elite cavalry called the Savaran, the ancestors of the European knight. The Romans who fought the Persian Empire feared the Savaran greatly. The Persian Empire at the time wasn't just the most powerful in terms of military. It was also the richest empire with the Silk Road under it's control, and the most advanced with universities like Gundishapur. Perhaps you can write a story about a hero who starts out poor and lowly but eventually, throught fortune and clever decisions, becomes a wealthy landowner, a hero, and even a member of the Savaran. Add some mystical or fantastic elements from Persian mythology like the Shahnameh and the Thousand and One Nights (Mistakenly called the Arabian Nights even though the frame story and a large number of other stories are Persian stories or have Persian origins).
You can also have him battling demons, exploring Persia, fighting in wars, exposing corruption, getting into trouble, and so on. The possibilities are endless.

How is my book so far? Its the first chapter. All constrctive critism would be appriciated. A black bird soared past my window, contrasting against the orange and purple sky. I think it was a crow, but it was too swift to be a crow. Its voice wasn’t much of a caw either, more of a masculine chirp. He bird sang me a song off in the distance as he flew away. For the brief glance I saw of it, I assumed it was a mighty bird, big and royal and broad, with wings gliding with the wind like a parasail. I sighed. Boxes outlined my small room; I was all packed to leave Los Angeles tomorrow. The only thing that lay in my room was my mattress, a sheet, and my laptop. I was on the third story of our apartment building, the tallest of the floors. I stared out my window sternly, taking in one of my last looks of the city. Bright lights and tall busy buildings ran through the city. Noisy cars zoomed their way through the streets. The street lights were just turning on, faintly lighting up the dim highways. California was a truly beautiful place. Some people might call L.A ghetto, but their wrong. Sure, there is the Slater-slum part of the county, but for the most part it is suburban houses and apartments. I went to a wealthy school, belonging to a wealthy school district. There were no drug deals or loss of virginity at Spring View Middle School; it’s just a bunch of intelligent kids. Innocent, not ghetto, kids. There sat my laptop in front of me, balancing on the thick, flat, windowsill. I was typing in my Microsoft locked journal, locked meaning secured with a password so no one could read the content. Today, I was expressing my hatred towards my ignorant father for making me move to Colorado. My Diary Entry: Dear Diary, I cannot believe my dad right now. I hate the stupidity of his wanting to move to Colorado. What was wrong with California? Oh yea, nothing. Moving is for his own pleasure, his own needs. I don’t think he even thought of the effects it would have on my life. New home means new school, and new school means new friends. He KNOWS how hard it is for me to make friends, especially for a typical shy 13 year old like me. I just—I’m so confused. I have a perfect life here, and it’s SUMMER! Who would want to spend summer moving, and unpacking?! My goodness, is my life going downhill or what? Goodbye California. Yours Truly, Amelia Rose I exited out of Word and shut my computer down. The sky faded from orange to navy, though it was far from dark outside. Streetlights and car lights and lights from building windows flooded the outdoors. Slowly, I pulled the blinds closed and pulled open my sheet so I could slip into my mattress. I lay down and got comfy, well, as comfy as I could get on a lumpy and scratchy six-year-old mattress. A yawn took over me and suddenly sleepiness fell upon me. Stretching, I fell limp on my pillow, my eyes fluttering shut for the night. Its not real. Its just, my creativity. So far this is all i got, and i want all the help i could get so.. keep answering people, i really REALLY really appriciate it. Just a couple of things:
- "A black bird soared past my window, contrasting against the orange and purple sky". Instead of saying "contrasting against", say "cutting against". You don't need to say contrasting, the audience can understand that black contrasts essentially against any color.
- "I think it was a crow, but it was too swift to be a crow." If you don't think it was a crow, don't say it was a crow. Just call it a bird. Say something like "I wasn't sure if the black bird was a crow or not".
- "For the brief glance I saw of it, I assumed it was a mighty bird, big and royal and broad, with wings gliding with the wind like a parasail." Don't tell us you assume the bird's shape, because while you achieve objectivity in your narrator, you also distance the reader and lose connection. Furthermore, as a narrator, everything in their narrative is subject to (and sometimes often is) their own opinion. So you could just say "it was a mighty bird..." so on and so forth. If the narrator THINKS that's what the bird looks like, then that's what it looks life. If you say "i assume its a mighty bird..." then you begin to hint there's a third party moderating that person's speech, almost correcting them so they're not "wrong". Remember, fiction isn't about what's right and wrong; it's your world, do with it what you want.
- "I was typing in my Microsoft locked journal, locked meaning secured with a password so no one could read the content." Don't come off as condescending to the reader- you'll lose them. And this passage screams condescending. Readers aren't stupid; they can get what you're saying it without having to explain it to them as if they were children. I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just trying to be real with you. Reword this so you don't come off that way, or just say it's a locked journal; I think people will get the point either way.
- Take out the part where you say "My Diary Entry:". If you just put in the diary journal, readers will get it.
Overall, it's not too bad. It's mostly description, and therefore you've got to be a little more flowery with it. Here are my overall notes:
First of all, your timing and paragraph spacing are good; don't change those.
Secondly, watch your grammar. "Some people might call L.A ghetto, but their wrong" utilizes the wrong "their" word. use "they're", as in "They are". Otherwise, this sentence says something like "some people might call LA ghetto, but it is their wrongness." which sounds awful.
Thirdly, try not to write your sentences so they contradict themselves or repeat. "I went to a wealthy school, belonging to a wealthy school district. " Honestly, if you tell me separately that you go to either a wealthy school or live in a wealthy district, I can assume everything else. I don't need ya to tell me everything ;)
Overall, not too bad. Just keep working on it. Always keep writing!

Two Of my poems.... PLEASE ANSWER? The Butterfly I turned around Looked at the ground Saw something small and fat My, my, my, what is that It was fuzzy and lime green With spots & markings, felt like I was in a dream Felt soft and gooey What in the world could it be It jumped in a cloud I heard a slight sound A thing with wings flew out Fluttering all about As I pondered on what it could be Oh, now I see My, my, my It's a butterfly >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> MIGHTY SUN I've never looked right at the sun It's just something i've never done I try and try to look my eyes into that beam of light My eyes are too weak, I loose the fight I bet it's a wonderful ball of colors Hopefully this star is breathtaking, just like the others Maybe if I look from the corner of my eye Not directly at the sun, mostly looking at the sky I tried it for the very first time Ahhh... that sun is fine It's beautiful when it sets That star is unlike the rest >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> When We Were Young..... When we were young... Everyone was together Nobody cared how you dressed or what you wore We thought it would last forever When we were young... We learned our ABC's and 123's We sang a moo! moo! Here and a Moo! moo! There We played house with our little plastic toy keys When we were young... After all the shapes and rhymes We went to the gaint playgroung & played for the rest of the schoolday The ones that got in trouble had to pay their time But now were older... with more rights that come with responsibilities Being brighter and bolder **********************************************************************************And I've made like five more that is that styling of writing. They're kind of ment to be for like kid books or something. Are those good poems or do poems have to be deep to be good? because i can think of those kind of poems in like five minutes, but deep poems.. are just ssomething i cant do. P.S.---- do you know how i can publish these poems into like a book of poems for little kids? by the way im in middle school.. just saying. wow, these are pretty good poems. I wish i could help you with the publishing thing cuz i too have the same problem. Nice job though

Please read and tell me, Is my writing any good? Heres a small exerpt from the book im working on, "Hero of War: Disconsolate Death": As I press my finger against the stiff trigger of the rifle, the world seemingly slows down around me. The trigger clicks out of place and sound of the inner mechanisms slowly whispers into my ears. Swiftly, a loud explosion rings through the world. A flash of lightning escapes my barrel and the metal bullet slams into the back of the soldiers head. Swiftly, it slips through his skull, a splatter of bright red blood and brain matter flings into the air. His limbs go limp and he slowly falls to the ground, like a mighty tree in the forest. I quickly pivot and aim to the man beside him. I fell another mighty tree in the forest. Within a few seconds the first row of soldiers lay in the red dust beneath their feet. The men behind shield themselves from the red mist that sprays into their faces. I shift my focus to behind the men, Tucker’s captive now lay on the hard ground. Tucker slams his pistol muzzle into the back of a man and the film of blood clings to his face. My focus shifts back into my fight as the weapon ‘clicks’ empty. I fling the beautifully engraved weapon to the floor and hurl the light throwing knives concealed in my suit. The blades shimmer in the bright sunlight and slam into the men before me. I quickly grapple my combat knife and rush into the cluster. I rush in between two shocked soldiers and spin quickly in the cool, slick dust. The blade of my knife barely grazes their necks as it passes, but a waterfall of red soon comes out and they drop to the ground, lifeless. Another man to my right rushes me, knife in hand, his face bloodstained with the blood of his friends. I quickly parry his knife with my own and strike his stomach with my fist instantly. As he drops on his knees and begins to cough up blood, I bring my knife down on the top of his skull. A bullet whizzes by my head and a soldier, about to attack me crumples to the ground like a ragdoll. I quickly glance to the shooter and find Spark once again fighting for his life. I struggle to remove my jammed blade from the soldiers lifeless body. One soldier regains his composure; he brings his rifle to his shoulder and starts firing in my direction. I quickly release the grip on my blade. I kick up the long, black rifle beside my victim. With my other foot, I kick flip off his corpse and back flip into the air. I seize the rifle in mid air, the cold metal trigger slips behind my finger. Mid-flip I extend my arm and hit my opponent in the face with the hard muzzle of the rifle. His face flings back from the impact and the guns tip slips into his agape mouth, screaming in pain. I pull the trigger and his body flies back into the ground, a pool of blood quickly stains the sand. I land and aim down the iron sighting of my stolen weapon, cherry picking headshots in the mass grave. The men begin to reclaim their grounds, glaring at me with faces painted with crimson and rifles soaked in blood. P.S. real, thoughtful opinions please I think it's the BEST ever!!!

How can I improve this prologue? I started writing fanfictions for Sonny With a Chance on a site, but I never really tried with those. Then I tried going back to writing a book, and it seriously effected how I write. Whenever I write something, I always think it's aboslutely horrible. So how can I improve this prologue and get back on track with my writing? Prologue: Do you hear the whispers? Can you hear the quiet babbling of water? Or the soft whispers of the wind? Do you listen for the hushed murmur of earth when you sit in a tree? Or the subdued hiss of the fire? Do you hear the small noises in the black of the dark? Or the gentle lullabies from the light? There was a time when everyone could hear them. Everyone listened to what they wanted, and everyone gave them what they asked for. They weren’t always elements. No, long ago, they were four goddesses. Each was beautiful in their own way. Angana was the patron of fire. She had hair the color of fire itself. The bright red color of it was braded many times, creating hundreds of flowing braids that reached her ankles. Many beads of different oranges, yellows, reds, and anything in between were placed in her hair. Her eyes were a bright red, a smirk always plastered on her tanned face. When she was angry, her wings stretched forward, made of fire themselves. Everyone feared her, knowing her harsh wrath. But her twin, Inia, was her complete opposite. As the goddess of water, she kept a calm demeanor, never hurting a single person. Her eyes were always deep and passionate, no matter the dark sapphire blue they were. Her hair flowed around her body, rippling in soft waves, starting blue on top and slowly going to a turquoise in the middle, then finally a white at the bottom, the color of rapids. She let it stay free, trying to be as opposite of her sister as possible. Her skin held a tint of blue in her paleness, giving her sad hopeless look. But her wings fell in splashes, the water always moving. Whenever someone was in her presence, they were calm, not a fear in the world. Avani, the protector of earth was mighty and strong. Her eyes were a startling green color, sparkling in excitement. Avani was one to get herself in trouble, always meddling and messing around. Her hair was a dark brown color, the color of tree bark. She liked to keep it in a single ponytail that fell to the back of her knees. Her dark skin was always radiant, showing her youth. Wherever she went, she carried her bow and arrows, loving the rush hunting gave her. But she was still kind when she was needed to be. Her wings were shaped like leaves, always stretched out to show her happiness. Avani’s older sister was the keeper of air, Anila. She could never be bothered by anything. Her mind was always a million miles away, thinking of things as she traveled with the wind. Very rarely could someone predict where she was going. Startling of all were her eyes. They were silver, always emitting a soft glow. But she was also blind. Her hair flowed, always trailing behind her, white and long. She was always humming a song, going wherever the wind took her. Her wings were wisps of white, like clouds, flowing behind her with her hair. Very rarely did she stop to talk to anyone. Like the wind, she was always on the move, her hummed songs floating behind her. Along with the four goddesses, there were two twin gods: Dipen and Sunil. Sunil was always dark and hidden, liking the shadows more than the light. He was the god of Darkness, just as his brother was the god of Light. Sunil’s eyes were deep and bottomless, black like his heart. He cared for no one and killed without a thought. His black hair reached his shoulders, always scraggly and messy. Wherever he went, darkness followed like a fog, rolling behind him. His wings were feathered and black, stretching out like threatening shadows on either side of him. Anyone in his presence dared not anger him, for fear of their life. Dipen was cheery though, always happy. His hair was as long as his brother’s but blonde and neat. His eyes glowed golden, like his personality. He helped everyone, asking nothing in return. Like his brother’s, Dipen’s wings were feathered, but they were white, not black. He radiated light, helping anyone who was down. Light and life were hand in hand when he was around, making everyone love him more than his brother. It made Sunil jealous. But soon, people started to wonder. What if they were powerful like their gods and goddesses? What if they had the power to control the elements? The shaman of every tribe came together one night, against the gods and goddesses will. They did a spell, taking the elemental powers of the gods and goddesses and putting it in themselves. That was how the Whisperers were born. We weren’t normal. We were considered freaks. The powers were considered diseases as teenagers only got them at the age of thirteen. I was different though. Everyone else got just one element. I had all six. Everyone else got their powers (Grrr, it didn't post the last part, so here's the very last paragraph:) Everyone else got their powers when they were teenagers. I was born with mine. Not to mention I had more powers than that. For one thing, I could hear individual thoughts. And I didn’t need to learn to control my powers. They came naturally. I was born a freak, and that was what I would always be. Arabella Allison Anita would always be considered a freak. (There, now that's all the prologue :P) At the very beginning you ask questions that begin with the word 'Or' and I suggest that you link these to the previous sentence e.g. "Can you hear the quiet babbling water or the soft whispers of the wind?" As a prologue it is very long but the writing is very good and I would make no changes to it at all except possibly to the term "They did a spell" find another word for 'did' such as 'cast.'. I would however suggest that you print it off and read it out loud or get someone to read it to you and you will hear for yourself whether you think that changes should be made. Good luck with your writing.

What companies will send you free things if you complain? I recently sent a complain email to mighty bright (book light company) and they sent me three free lights! Any other companies like this? I think the other poster is right...many larger companies will send you something for your troubles. When complaining always be as detailed as possible and include names of people you have talked to. This lends credibility to you and helps the company fix the issue so that it hopefully doesn't happen to someone else.
I also wanted to mention that giving a compliment may also get you something free. Pick your top 5 favorite things and write a letter to the companies involved telling them why you love them so much. Companies don't want to lose a loyal customer and may send samples or coupons to keep you loyal.

Why do we subconsciously assume the God is a Man? What if God was a Chicken? I was raised Christian so I don't WANT TO HEAR "'COZ IT SAYS SO IN THE BIBLE". THROUGH THE SIN OF PRIDE & VANITY...I BELIEVE WE HAVE CREATED GOD AND JESUS TO BE IN OUR IMAGE, SINCE WE CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING GREATER OR SMARTER THAN OURSELVES. BUT SERIOUSLY NOW, WHAT IF WE DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN, AND ST. PETER WAS A ROOSTER, LOOKING YOU UP IN THE BOOK, AND GIVING YOU THAT EVIL RED ROOSTER EYE, AND SHAKING HIS COXCOMB BACK AND FORTH. THEN HE LET YOU IN AND LET YOU JUMP IN THE HEAVENLY HEATED SWIMMING POOL WITH ALL THE OTHER NEW ARRIVALS. AND WHILE YOU WERE SWIMMING AND HAVING FUN AND GOING DOWN THE GIANT SLIDE, A BRILLIANT WHITE LIGHT APPEARED, SO BRIGHT YOU HAD TO LOOK AWAY, AND IT TURNED OUT TO BE GOD, AND HE WAS A GIANT CHICKEN! AND IT TURNED OUT TO BE THE ANGRY OLD TESTAMENT GOD. AND HE WOULD RAISE A MIGHTY CHICKEN CLAW AND POINT AT THE POOL, AND CLUCK, "AS YE SEW SHALL YE REAP!." AND THAT'S WHEN YOU REALISED ST. PETER THE ROOSTER WAS CUTTING UP CARROTS AND ONIONS, AND THE POOL WAS GETTING HOTTER?!!! I dont believe God is either male or female, nor do I believe that God is of human form, I do believe that there is a much higher energy plane that we exist on in our afterlife, I think people put a male persona on God as majority of people believe that a higher power naturally has a male aspect to it as men are known for their strength, and in past times to be the stronger sex, so naturally people trying to personify this entity would put a male gender to it, however as the times have changed & womens rights & strengths have become more recognised, a shift has also occured as to the possible sex of God.

Please read and give an honest thoughtful answer to if im a good writer? Heres a small exerpt from the book im working on, "Hero of War: Disconsolate Death": As I press my finger against the stiff trigger of the rifle, the world seemingly slows down around me. The trigger clicks out of place and sound of the inner mechanisms slowly whispers into my ears. Swiftly, a loud explosion rings through the world. A flash of lightning escapes my barrel and the metal bullet slams into the back of the soldiers head. Swiftly, it slips through his skull, a splatter of bright red blood and brain matter flings into the air. His limbs go limp and he slowly falls to the ground, like a mighty tree in the forest. I quickly pivot and aim to the man beside him. I fell another mighty tree in the forest. Within a few seconds the first row of soldiers lay in the red dust beneath their feet. The men behind shield themselves from the red mist that sprays into their faces. I shift my focus to behind the men, Tucker’s captive now lay on the hard ground. Tucker slams his pistol muzzle into the back of a man and the film of blood clings to his face. My focus shifts back into my fight as the weapon ‘clicks’ empty. I fling the beautifully engraved weapon to the floor and hurl the light throwing knives concealed in my suit. The blades shimmer in the bright sunlight and slam into the men before me. I quickly grapple my combat knife and rush into the cluster. I rush in between two shocked soldiers and spin quickly in the cool, slick dust. The blade of my knife barely grazes their necks as it passes, but a waterfall of red soon comes out and they drop to the ground, lifeless. Another man to my right rushes me, knife in hand, his face bloodstained with the blood of his friends. I quickly parry his knife with my own and strike his stomach with my fist instantly. As he drops on his knees and begins to cough up blood, I bring my knife down on the top of his skull. A bullet whizzes by my head and a soldier, about to attack me crumples to the ground like a ragdoll. I quickly glance to the shooter and find Spark once again fighting for his life. I struggle to remove my jammed blade from the soldiers lifeless body. One soldier regains his composure; he brings his rifle to his shoulder and starts firing in my direction. I quickly release the grip on my blade. I kick up the long, black rifle beside my victim. With my other foot, I kick flip off his corpse and back flip into the air. I seize the rifle in mid air, the cold metal trigger slips behind my finger. Mid-flip I extend my arm and hit my opponent in the face with the hard muzzle of the rifle. His face flings back from the impact and the guns tip slips into his agape mouth, screaming in pain. I pull the trigger and his body flies back into the ground, a pool of blood quickly stains the sand. I land and aim down the iron sighting of my stolen weapon, cherry picking headshots in the mass grave. The men begin to reclaim their grounds, glaring at me with faces painted with crimson and rifles soaked in blood. There are two things in particular that I think you should work on.
1) Your sense of time is uncertain. You start out by saying, "the world seemingly slows down around me," but many of your descriptions use adjectives that imply speed. When someone is in a situation in which time slows down, NOTHING seems fast for as long as the feeling endures. What are you trying to accomplish in the scene -- showing that the character is "in the zone" such as any master at a moment of perfection, or showing the ugliness of combat, or just describing a fight? Make sure everything flows from that decision. And if you want to show a period of slowness followed by everything moving really quickly, be clear about when the change occurs.
2) I think you're too descriptive. Though I've said that your sense of time is uncertain, the overall impression I have is that you are describing a desperate fight taking place in a short time. When you have so much description, it slows down the feeling of movement in the scene. If you are in fact writing an action story, the pace will be too slow if the entire book is so descriptive. Leave some of the detail to the readers' imagination, so that they can put a little of themselves into the story. Include those details that are essential to the action at hand, or to the overall theme of your story.
A small quibble -- "soaked" implies that the material in question has absorbed the liquid. Rifles can't soak up blood. They can be coated with blood, glazed with blood, slick with blood -- any number of things, but not soaked in blood.

Mighty Bright Book Lights is from category: Flashlights.