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"Bathory and the State Chapter One" by Redd

This work was my second book and it was a complex who dunit horror. This seems to be more what other people expect from me, it was deliberatly toned down to find a publisher and obeys most rules.The book I have almost finished is experimental again, but after comments of excerpts from my first book of this kind is now due a major revision.I have learnt a lot from posting on here from the obvious to the sublime.

Category: Book: 1st Chapter

Tags: Horror, thriller, who dunnit,

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Bathory and the State

Rosa walked past the grey faces in the street, so self interested, the weather did nothing to improve their disposition, only caused an uncomfortable hot frustration, she smiled in defiance, almost laughing at the architecture with its breasts and nipples like the builders had only had one thing on their mind ‘why don’t they house people in buildings like that’.

The damp patches under her arms were spreading their contagion, threatening her nostrils, with a perfume, that would, to a dog anyway, give away the information that she was over weight, female and in her prime.

Yes it was a hot day so no doubt it would rain and rain heavily. She stopped and adjusted damp band of her knickers under her red dress. The Sun shone like a gleaming shower head, pouring her sweat in big drips. She lifted her arm up to shield her eyes and her other hand went out to shun the Sun or turn it away. Then the shower head really did pour, rinsing off her hard earned sweat.

‘So the Sun was a socialist invention and worked about as well as other socialist inventions’. Or then again ‘If the Hungarian Workers Party is so omnipresent why can’t they control the weather’.

She thought about her new job. All she knew was that she would be cleaning the flat of some old party dear. It had to be a party member and she had to be old, they were all old and all ugly, it was a party for old ugly people to deal with old ugly people’s problems, God knows they did nothing for anyone else. Another reason she knew she would be old, they had asked lots of questions about her sex life or lack of it in the interviews and had asked for references to establish her character and that she was, oh my God, a virgin.

She passed a flower stall on her way, ‘red roses from Rosa’ she thought, ‘get off to a good start. That will crack the carbolic soap in her wrinkles when she smiles’. She got out her purse and dropped a handful of tarnished old heads into an old woman’s hand and made off with the flowers, she held them up to her face as she walked, their little red centres opening up to the rain, like love.

She got to the flats some minutes later, it was on the far side of town, it was an old but unremarkable building that had been converted for peoples use in the growing housing shortage. She climbed worn stone steps to get to the top, she wasn’t sure if the top had been converted from several flats into one big one or was of ordinary size which would be four rooms, it mattered from the point of view of how much extra cleaning there would be to do.

At the top a wooden door labelled number twenty three. She knocked and held up the flowers hopefully. The door opened and she was about three feet away and level height with a bird mask of blue feathers and a long beak, she could just make out a human mouth with silent moving lips, then the eyes with the owl’s brow took her in hypnotically, the eyes messaging a contemptuous hate as if she knew her intimately. A hand shaking with excitement, small and pink, a woman’s hand, cloaked in a quilted golden gown, held a stazer gun, Rosa whistled shocked, and the stazer fired into her chest, the roses dropped to the floor and Rosa on top of them, crumpling them. A thorn in her breast.

The bird woman turned Rosa over. Rosa’s body was too weak to resist. She put a hand up with great effort and grabbed at the golden gown, a young breast was revealed; her breathless mouth almost nuzzled it. The bird woman sat up straight, her body posture registering alarm, magnified by the look of the bird mask, she lifted the stazer and fired again the shock travelling down the wire like telegrammed hate.

The bird thing in the gown put her face up to Rosa’s “Stop resisting” it screamed its bird chatter, the feathers around the mouth blowing.

Rosa looked around the room, there were mirrors reflecting mirrors and silk scarves of yellows, reds and gold’s, parakeets and parrots flew in circles, chattering louder and louder, as they raised their voices the bird mask joined them with an elongated scream as she raised her arms high as if calling them in, a parrot landed, gave a sideways glance and pecked Rosas cheek, the scream came to an end as the bird woman brought her hands down and put a scalpel in Rosa’s neck , a new red of flowing blood filled the room, but the blow was not fatal, the woman looked around at the mirrors to see herself at every angle, glancing from one to another, it was obviously important she looked exactly right.

The bird woman put her hand on Rosa’s throat and squeazed, was she strangling her, no, “Don’t loose too much blood.” The woman said with self concern.

Rosa closed her eyes tight. “I’m afraid you’ve got to see.” said the bird woman. She took the scalpel and carefully sliced off Rosa’s eye lids, Rosa rolled back her eyes which were exposed white orbs, they came back into focus and she saw herself mutilated in the mirror above, at first not recognising her face, then she gave a gasp. “Ahh” she said “Ahh” the bird woman mimicked shaking her head in parody. Then she put the small pieces of flesh in her mouth and stuck her tongue out with the eye lashes on them, put her tongue back in her mouth and gave an exaggerated swallow. “You won’t be seeing them again will you?” She put her head back and laughed, then looking at her feathered accomplices, twittered like a bird, the parrots and parakeets twittered back.

“Thanks for the rose’s” said the bird woman. She picked up the crushed flowers and started pulling off their petals swinging around and casting them in the air. She led a trail into the bathroom and put the stalks in the bath tub. “Pick up all the petals and I may let you live.” She cried out joyously. Rosa still connected to the stazer crawled along with a panting effort and rapidly picked up the petals till she was over the bath tub. The last red petals there washed with her blood down to the plug hole as she looked on amazed. “Just where I wanted you.” Said the bird woman. She carefully put the plug in the bath tub and stood behind Rosa. Then she lifted Rosa’s head and slit her throat right across. The blood gushed into the bath “Do fat pigs bleed more? We will see!” Rosa died.

The bird woman took off her gown and slid into the bath. She felt the mask around her face and started to remove it…


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Category Name: My Thoughts

I did not enjoy the chapter. The chapter was okay. I really enjoyed the chapter.

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Category Name: Character Development

The characters were not credible, interesting or unique. I don’t care about or understand the characters because they were poorly developed. The characters where somewhat credible, interesting and unique. I partially understand their thoughts, feelings, and actions. I somewhat connected with and care about the characters. The characters where credible, interesting and unique. I thoroughly understand their thoughts, feelings and actions. I felt connected with and started to care about the characters.

This is act of bringing a character to life on the page. It is a combination of the author’s description of the character and the character’s dialog, action, and thoughts. Though all characters should be believable, the protagonist and antagonist are usually the most developed characters.

Category Name: The Beginning

The chapter did not introduce a problem. I really don’t want to read the next chapter. The chapter introduces a problem for the protagonist, but I don’t know why it’s important and/or it does not feel like an immediate resolution is needed. I might read the next chapter. The chapter introduced an immediate and important problem for the protagonist. I really want to know what happens in the next chapter.

The first chapter, especially the first sentence, needs to pull a reader into the story and make them crave more.

Category Name: Setting

I don’t know when or where this chapter takes place. The setting was inadequately described or inappropriately used. I know when and where the chapter takes place but I can only vaguely picture it in my mind. The setting did not add to or distract from the chapter. I know when and where the chapter takes place. The setting enhanced the chapter and helped me better understand the characters or plot.

The setting is where a story takes place. The choice of setting and its description helps the story come alive in the mind of the reader. Appropriate setting contributes to the plot and mood of the story.

Category Name: Mechanics

The story contained so many mechanical errors that it was hard to follow the plot or understand certain sentences or paragraphs. Occasional mechanical errors were distracting, but these errors did not inhibit me from being able to understand the plot or connect with characters in the story. I rarely if ever noticed mechanical errors. As far as I could tell, the writing was clear and correct.

Mechanics includes sentence structure, verb agreement, grammar, spelling, voice, punctuation and aspects of basic style.

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Category Name: Dialog

The dialog caused more confusion than clarification about the characters. It was almost impossible to follow. Some of the dialog helped me learn about the characters and revealed new facets of their personalities. I could follow the dialog when paying close attention. The dialog helped me learn about the characters and revealed new facets of their personalities. The dialog flowed well and was easy to follow.

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1. Bathory and the State

2. Rosa walked past the grey faces in the street, so self interested, the weather did nothing to improve their disposition, only caused an uncomfortable hot frustration, she smiled in defiance, almost laughing at the architecture with its breasts and nipples like the builders had only had one thing on their mind ‘why don’t they house people in buildings like that’.

3. The damp patches under her arms were spreading their contagion, threatening her nostrils, with a perfume, that would, to a dog anyway, give away the information that she was over weight, female and in her prime.

4. Yes it was a hot day so no doubt it would rain and rain heavily. She stopped and adjusted damp band of her knickers under her red dress. The Sun shone like a gleaming shower head, pouring her sweat in big drips. She lifted her arm up to shield her eyes and her other hand went out to shun the Sun or turn it away. Then the shower head really did pour, rinsing off her hard earned sweat.

5. ‘So the Sun was a socialist invention and worked about as well as other socialist inventions’. Or then again ‘If the Hungarian Workers Party is so omnipresent why can’t they control the weather’.

6. She thought about her new job. All she knew was that she would be cleaning the flat of some old party dear. It had to be a party member and she had to be old, they were all old and all ugly, it was a party for old ugly people to deal with old ugly people’s problems, God knows they did nothing for anyone else. Another reason she knew she would be old, they had asked lots of questions about her sex life or lack of it in the interviews and had asked for references to establish her character and that she was, oh my God, a virgin.

7. She passed a flower stall on her way, ‘red roses from Rosa’ she thought, ‘get off to a good start. That will crack the carbolic soap in her wrinkles when she smiles’. She got out her purse and dropped a handful of tarnished old heads into an old woman’s hand and made off with the flowers, she held them up to her face as she walked, their little red centres opening up to the rain, like love.

8. She got to the flats some minutes later, it was on the far side of town, it was an old but unremarkable building that had been converted for peoples use in the growing housing shortage. She climbed worn stone steps to get to the top, she wasn’t sure if the top had been converted from several flats into one big one or was of ordinary size which would be four rooms, it mattered from the point of view of how much extra cleaning there would be to do.

9. At the top a wooden door labelled number twenty three. She knocked and held up the flowers hopefully. The door opened and she was about three feet away and level height with a bird mask of blue feathers and a long beak, she could just make out a human mouth with silent moving lips, then the eyes with the owl’s brow took her in hypnotically, the eyes messaging a contemptuous hate as if she knew her intimately. A hand shaking with excitement, small and pink, a woman’s hand, cloaked in a quilted golden gown, held a stazer gun, Rosa whistled shocked, and the stazer fired into her chest, the roses dropped to the floor and Rosa on top of them, crumpling them. A thorn in her breast.

10. The bird woman turned Rosa over. Rosa’s body was too weak to resist. She put a hand up with great effort and grabbed at the golden gown, a young breast was revealed; her breathless mouth almost nuzzled it. The bird woman sat up straight, her body posture registering alarm, magnified by the look of the bird mask, she lifted the stazer and fired again the shock travelling down the wire like telegrammed hate.

11. The bird thing in the gown put her face up to Rosa’s “Stop resisting” it screamed its bird chatter, the feathers around the mouth blowing.

12. Rosa looked around the room, there were mirrors reflecting mirrors and silk scarves of yellows, reds and gold’s, parakeets and parrots flew in circles, chattering louder and louder, as they raised their voices the bird mask joined them with an elongated scream as she raised her arms high as if calling them in, a parrot landed, gave a sideways glance and pecked Rosas cheek, the scream came to an end as the bird woman brought her hands down and put a scalpel in Rosa’s neck , a new red of flowing blood filled the room, but the blow was not fatal, the woman looked around at the mirrors to see herself at every angle, glancing from one to another, it was obviously important she looked exactly right.

13. The bird woman put her hand on Rosa’s throat and squeazed, was she strangling her, no, “Don’t loose too much blood.” The woman said with self concern.

14. Rosa closed her eyes tight. “I’m afraid you’ve got to see.” said the bird woman. She took the scalpel and carefully sliced off Rosa’s eye lids, Rosa rolled back her eyes which were exposed white orbs, they came back into focus and she saw herself mutilated in the mirror above, at first not recognising her face, then she gave a gasp. “Ahh” she said “Ahh” the bird woman mimicked shaking her head in parody. Then she put the small pieces of flesh in her mouth and stuck her tongue out with the eye lashes on them, put her tongue back in her mouth and gave an exaggerated swallow. “You won’t be seeing them again will you?” She put her head back and laughed, then looking at her feathered accomplices, twittered like a bird, the parrots and parakeets twittered back.

15. “Thanks for the rose’s” said the bird woman. She picked up the crushed flowers and started pulling off their petals swinging around and casting them in the air. She led a trail into the bathroom and put the stalks in the bath tub. “Pick up all the petals and I may let you live.” She cried out joyously. Rosa still connected to the stazer crawled along with a panting effort and rapidly picked up the petals till she was over the bath tub. The last red petals there washed with her blood down to the plug hole as she looked on amazed. “Just where I wanted you.” Said the bird woman. She carefully put the plug in the bath tub and stood behind Rosa. Then she lifted Rosa’s head and slit her throat right across. The blood gushed into the bath “Do fat pigs bleed more? We will see!” Rosa died.

16. The bird woman took off her gown and slid into the bath. She felt the mask around her face and started to remove it…

17.

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