"Wh- Where are you going?"

[ZeeAk]

"Where are you going?" Marcus' voice struggled to burst through swollen, bloodied lips. A trickle of crimson reached down from his eye to his chin. Swollen, dark purple bruises peppered his face and he seemed to stumble as he walked. His words were slurred, as he found himself unable to properly form sounds and letters through his injuries. A knee that was a source of constant, shooting pain gave way as he feebly chased his brother.
"Ben!" Marcus cried out once more, deathly afraid that his words were explosively loud in his head, yet inaudibly quiet in actuality. "Where are you going?" He felt a hot liquid build up in his bloodshot eyes. Inadvertently, in a natural effort to fight back the tears, he bit down on his lower lip. His mind seemed to explode with the pain as his teeth dug into an open cut. He swore, the ugly word bursting through the darkened sky.
"Ben!" He called once more, in a vain attempt to grab his brother's attention. Marcus collapsed to the ground, one of his legs too damaged to fully support his weight. The tears flowed now, as a faint crack in the sky foreshadowed a storm. Even in the darkness, through his facial injuries, he managed to make out some basic shapes. He saw elongated rectangles, and a quiet clicking. He thought he felt the ground begin to softly vibrate. Awkwardly struggling to his feet, Marcus tried to focus on the distance where he'd watched his brother vanish into the dark. The clicking grew louder now, as a sharp whistle shattered the sombre silence. The crack in the sky was louder now; far more violent, far more proximate. A viscerality can't be generally ascribed to nature seemed to grip the blackened clouds, as they ripped open. Rain instantly began cascading down. Marcus, standing on his wobbling feet, felt the rain slam into him like a vertical wall of water. He nearly collapsed again under the torrential downpour, instead dropping unceremoniously to his knees. Tiny missile-like pricks of rain stung at his numerous wounds, as the blood washed away into the softening dirty. Marcus kneeled, feeling completely defeated. His mind was an absolute mess, barely able to comprehend the reasons how or why someone would inflict such pain and devastation upon him and his family. The tears, a rarity for him, were evidence enough that his spirits had been broken. Physically, his skin was split and bleeding. He was a wreck, inside and out. The rain was plastering his bloodied clothes and matted hair to his skin and scalp. Now indistinguishable in the rain, his tears flowed freely. Chest heaving as he cried, the vibrating began a metallic thrashing. The whistle resounded again, this time unable to split the air that was already filled with audio violence. Fleetingly, the sounds triggered an impulse of recognition. Lost in the act of simply trying to monitor his breathing, Marcus didn't hear the footsteps as they squelched in the now muddy ground.

"Get up, Marcus." The voice instantly restored him to reality, as the fresh pains of his wounds - inside and out - slammed back into him almost as hard as the rain had.
"Ben?" The word was feeble, barely escaping Marcus' ragged lips.
"I'm back." The older man lifted his younger, weaker brother to his feet. Both men stood facing each other in the freezing dark of the raging storm. Thunder exploded around them, and lightning shattered the horizon. The sky erupted in a flash of searing white, illuminating both men's faces. The injuries were brutally obvious. The blood streamed from open gashes that stung from the cleansing on the rain. Their weariness was almost palpable.
"Ben," Marcus desperately began, "I can't feel my hands." He was shivering, unsure whether it was simply the cold of the rain, or the lack of blood in his body.
"Neither can I." Ben wasn't in the mood for conversation. The constant clattering grew ever closer. There was a noticeable lack of focused lighting emitting from the horizon. Ben's brain, somehow still capable of logical function, realised that the object speeding towards them was not expecting any interference. It simply expected a free, careless ride. Ben slowly began shaking his head.
"Life's not free," he muttered to himself. Half-naked in the lashing rain, Ben slowly strode over to the shapes Marcus had noticed but failed to recognise. Marcus' eyes widened as he began focusing less on his also battered brother and more on the terribly illuminated world around him. His hazy vision slowly becoming accustomed to the darkened world around him, Marcus began to realise where he was.
"Ben!" He called out, his arm physically reaching out for something to lean on as he struggled to understand what was occurring.
"What?" His brother snapped back. Marcus ignored his brother's attitude.
"How'd we get here?"
Ben seemed to shatter, what little calm and collectiveness he had been trying to retain slipping out of his control. He became enraged almost instantly, spinning so violently that he threw his battered body off balance.
"Are you kidding?!" He screamed. Marcus physically reeled back. Ben drew closer. "Do you seriously not remember?"
"Should I?" Marcus yelled back, even as he stumbled back away from his violently disposed brother. "I got beaten, Ben! So did you! No wonder I can't remember!"
"You never remember!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Ben lunged forward, burying a hypervelocity fist into Marcus' gut. The younger of the two brothers felt blood spurt from his mouth as he doubled-over. Ben placed the same hand against his brother's chest. With an almighty heave and a terrible groan, he threw Marcus backwards. Marcus landed shoulder-first on the gravel. The tiny stones ripped at his skin at shirt, the nerves just beneath the skin relaying more messages of pain to his already overworked cerebral core. A cry he couldn't contain slipped through clenched teeth. Ben kneeled over him.
"You don't know who did this to you, do you?"
Marcus shook his head, eyes tightly shut as he fought back ghostly apparitions of memories he refused to recognise and believe. He bit his lip once more, no longer fearing the pain.
"Are they flooding back, Marcus?"
They were; memories of encounters he wished long forgotten. In the sheeting downpour, Marcus fought every demon he'd ever believed in. His own screams from the past reverberated in his ears as the horror of many a situation became undeniably vivid. Writhing around on the gravel, completely ignoring his reality, Marcus clutched at his head. Every nerve and synapse he had fought the memories, battling them like a caged dog that had broken free. His mouth opened and he cried out unwittingly. Ben stepped back, the defeat on his features evident even in the darkness. An incredible crack of thunder seemed to split the world in two. The very same apocalyptic noise broke into Marcus' mind, too. In that instant, his head seemed to explode as the aural and visual overload pushed him closer and closer to the edge of destruction. He started to sob, unable to help himself. Ben simply had to stand back and watch. He'd endured the same pains in isolation and emerged stronger. But sometimes, he knew, people break. Ben recognised that he'd broken. He was grateful that his brother was here to see the terrible repercussions of the life they'd been cursed with. He was glad that Marcus would know what it was to break and to suffer. More than that, he saw himself as a prophet for hope.

Marcus' thrashing slowly grew less and less intense, as if he was carefully returning himself to reality. Tears were flowing, nothing holding them back now. He suddenly went completely still, his lip quivering, chest rising and falling. He looked, aside from the tiny natural movements, dead. Ben carefully approached, his love for his brother overwhelming his unnatural urge to simply stare.
"Marcus," he rasped. "Can you hear me?"

[ZeeAk]

"Dad!" The word exploded from Marcus' lips. Ben felt himself get thrown back by the force of the simple syllable. He knew that Marcus now remembered. The clacking and rattling was growing closer and closer, and would be upon them in a minute. In the pouring rain, Ben simply slid down beside his brother. With the same hands he'd used to thrown Marcus down, he picked him up and embraced him. Their age difference, however slight, was negated. Marcus' arms wrapped around Ben as well, and both brothers wept in the freezing cold, knowing full well the true meaning of love and pain.
"Marcus," Ben whispered again, "I have to do something."
An almost inaudible whimper was his only reply.
"I have to go away now." Ben felt as if he was speaking to a young child. Marcus felt as if he were a young child. Tears beginning to well in his own reddened, strained eyes, Ben carefully released his embrace.
"I don't want to let you go," he continued, careful to keep his quiet, but also loud enough that his brother could hear him over the terrifyingly heavy rain. Already water was pooling on the muddied ground. He didn't have a lot of time left. The train was nearly there. Marcus slumped back, still able to see his brother. His mind was an absolute shambles. He found himself incapable of expressing thought and creating words. Gravity seemed to be the only force that could move his body. He felt the tears, though; he felt the tears because he knew that they were the same tears he'd shed the last time he'd been cruelly subjected to the vicious end of a parental fist. And the time before. And the time before that. And before that, t- He stopped himself. He had no intention of reliving every moment of savage abuse.

Ben was slowly backing away, walking backwards toward the electric train-tracks. He spun now, finding himself unable to face Marcus with the flood of tears that cascaded unnoticeably down his face. The dim travelling lights on the monstrous front of the train grew closer and closer. Half a minute, Ben promised himself. He would only have to wait half a minute. Marcus, somehow, managed to lean himself forward awkwardly, his back bent dangerously. He reached out for his brother; the only action he was capable of. He could summon no words, but his mind was frantically searching for any noises to string together. It battled to regain suppressed knowledge of letters and syllables, of words and speech. He cried, helplessly, as Ben stepped up onto the tracks, his body seeming to go limp.
Ben had surrendered. Too many times, he'd been pushed to the edge and witnessed oblivion. He'd felt its cold touch and now the temptation had won. He'd lost. The ferocious rattling on the tracks grew more and more powerful, and Ben felt the kinetic energy surge through his feet and into his legs. He fought to stay stock still. He shut his eyes. The train seemed to have a presence; he could feel it better than he could hear it. The clacks grew more and more defined as the metallic behemoth sped towards its destination. The conductor was unaware of his fleshy obstacle.
Marcus watched helplessly, time seeming to slow, as Ben turned his head. For the final time that he could recall, lightning tore the heavens open. Light flooded the vision of both men. Ben opened his eyes for a split second, and for that last visible moment of his life, he saw Marcus' tears. Ben saw the desperation. He saw the terror that his brother could not act on.
Marcus saw Ben's tears. In a state of mental hysterics, Marcus fought bitterly with himself. He tried to wake up, tried to do anything to fight the reality that unfolded horrifyingly in front of him. His lips finally managed to create a B, the sound barely escaping his lips as the train filled his field of vision and the light died away. The steel monstrosity carried on into the rain-soaked night, and Ben simply vanished.

[tinytim12]

Time to return the favour.

At 1/15/11 10:02 AM, ZeeAk wrote: "Ben!" Marcus cried out once more, deathly afraid that his words were explosively loud in his head, yet inaudibly quiet in actuality. "Where are you going?"

Why was he afraid? I don't get it.

"Ben!" He called once more, in a vain attempt to grab his brother's attention. Marcus collapsed to the ground, one of his legs too damaged to fully support his weight. The tears flowed now, as a faint crack in the sky foreshadowed a storm. Even in the darkness, through his facial injuries, he managed to make out some basic shapes. He saw elongated rectangles, and a quiet clicking. He thought he felt the ground begin to softly vibrate. Awkwardly struggling to his feet, Marcus tried to focus on the distance where he'd watched his brother vanish into the dark. The clicking grew louder now, as a sharp whistle shattered the sombre silence. The crack in the sky was louder now; far more violent, far more proximate. A viscerality can't be generally ascribed to nature seemed to grip the blackened clouds, as they ripped open. Rain instantly began cascading down. Marcus, standing on his wobbling feet, felt the rain slam into him like a vertical wall of water. He nearly collapsed again under the torrential downpour, instead dropping unceremoniously to his knees. Tiny missile-like pricks of rain stung at his numerous wounds, as the blood washed away into the softening dirty. Marcus kneeled, feeling completely defeated. His mind was an absolute mess, barely able to comprehend the reasons how or why someone would inflict such pain and devastation upon him and his family. The tears, a rarity for him, were evidence enough that his spirits had been broken. Physically, his skin was split and bleeding. He was a wreck, inside and out. The rain was plastering his bloodied clothes and matted hair to his skin and scalp. Now indistinguishable in the rain, his tears flowed freely. Chest heaving as he cried, the vibrating began a metallic thrashing. The whistle resounded again, this time unable to split the air that was already filled with audio violence. Fleetingly, the sounds triggered an impulse of recognition. Lost in the act of simply trying to monitor his breathing, Marcus didn't hear the footsteps as they squelched in the now muddy ground.

My eyes. I would advise separating this into a simpler paragraphs, so that some of your more shocking descriptions can get more attention.

A viscerality can't be generally ascribed to nature seemed to grip the blackened clouds, as they ripped open.

Sorry, but I don't really understand what you're saying. Anyway the phrase 'can't be generally ascribed' seems out of place in this apocalyptic description.

Ben carefully approached, his love for his brother overwhelming his unnatural urge to simply stare.

Then why did he punch his brother to the ground?

I have to confess that I didn't get what was going on. Did their dad beat up both of them? Why did the big bro suddenly try to commit suicide? Maybe it's just me, but unless you're planing to continue this, the story wasn't really clear.

[ZeeAk]

At 1/16/11 05:10 AM, tinytim12 wrote: Time to return the favour.

Thanks heaps, mate.

Why was he afraid? I don't get it.

Most likely an issue with the way I articulated the sentence, but he's scared that what he thinks he's saying isn't actually being verbalised. Basically, he's afraid that he's not actually getting the sound through his lips, and that Ben can't hear him.

My eyes. I would advise separating this into a simpler paragraphs, so that some of your more shocking descriptions can get more attention.

Definitely a fair call. I do tend to have a problem separating my paragraphs, mostly because I try to keep everything connected in a way.

Sorry, but I don't really understand what you're saying. Anyway the phrase 'can't be generally ascribed' seems out of place in this apocalyptic description.

Again, a problem with my late night articulation. I probably should change that, because I was just trying to convey how violently the skies opened up and began to rain.

Then why did he punch his brother to the ground?

This was an effort to show that Ben wasn't perfect, and prone to bouts of violence. Really, it was just him reciprocating what he'd experienced.

I have to confess that I didn't get what was going on. Did their dad beat up both of them? Why did the big bro suddenly try to commit suicide? Maybe it's just me, but unless you're planing to continue this, the story wasn't really clear.

Whether or not it's just you, thanks for the feedback. If you don't understand it, someone else surely won't. It's actually part of a novel I'm currently writing; it's a flashback, so if it doesn't work as a standalone, then it most likely won't work in context. However, it's also meant to foreshadow future events somewhat.

[SirCannabisClock]

At 1/15/11 10:02 AM, ZeeAk wrote: "Where are you going?" Marcus' voice struggled to burst through swollen, bloodied lips. A trickle of crimson reached down from his eye to his chin. Swollen, dark purple bruises peppered his face and he seemed to stumble as he walked. His words were slurred, as he found himself unable to properly form sounds and letters through his injuries. A knee that was a source of constant, shooting pain gave way as he feebly chased his brother.

Dislike your use of peppered, it seems more of a present tense word.
"I watched in horror as he was peppered by gunshots."

I'd try something like "His battered face bore large purple smudges, and he seemed to stumble as he walked."

"Ben!" Marcus cried out once more, deathly afraid that his words were explosively loud in his head, yet inaudibly quiet in actuality.

Unnecessary detail

"Where are you going?" He felt a hot liquid build up in his bloodshot eyes. Inadvertently, in a natural effort to fight back the tears, he bit down on his lower lip. His mind seemed to explode with the pain as his teeth dug into an open cut. He swore, the ugly word bursting through the darkened sky.
"Ben!" He called once more, in a vain attempt to grab his brother's attention. Marcus collapsed to the ground, one of his legs too damaged to fully support his weight. The tears flowed now, as a faint crack in the sky foreshadowed a storm.

So'k. There's very little things that I'd say should be reworded but I'll leave that to your interpretation. I will point out that this response is interrupting a run-on paragraph.

Even in the darkness, through his facial injuries, he managed to make out some basic shapes. He saw elongated rectangles, and a quiet clicking. He thought he felt the ground begin to softly vibrate. Awkwardly struggling to his feet, Marcus tried to focus on the distance where he'd watched his brother vanish into the dark. The clicking grew louder now, as a sharp whistle shattered the sombre...

I believe you meant somber. It would have been a better word even if you didn't.

silence. The crack in the sky was louder now; far more violent, far more proximate.

"The crack in the sky grew louder as it became more violent and proximate."

A viscerality can't be generally ascribed to nature seemed to grip the blackened clouds, as they ripped open. Rain instantly began cascading down. Marcus, standing on his wobbling feet, felt the rain slam into him like a vertical wall of water. He nearly collapsed again under the torrential downpour, instead dropping unceremoniously to his knees.

:Tiny missile-like pricks of rain stung at his numerous wounds, as the blood washed away into the softening dirty.

Wat?

Marcus kneeled, feeling completely defeated. His mind was an absolute mess, barely able to comprehend the reasons how or why someone would inflict such pain and devastation upon him and his family. The tears, a rarity for him, were evidence enough that his spirits had been broken. Physically, his skin was split and bleeding. He was a wreck, inside and out. The rain was plastering his bloodied clothes and matted hair to his skin and scalp. Now indistinguishable in the rain, his tears flowed freely. Chest heaving as he cried, the vibrating began a metallic thrashing. The whistle resounded again, this time unable to split the air that was already filled with audio violence.

I just feel replacing whistle with siren might make it seem more ominous.

Fleetingly, the sounds triggered an impulse of recognition. Lost in the act of simply trying to monitor his breathing, Marcus didn't hear the footsteps as they squelched in the now muddy ground.

Overall- try to use more common words unless you have clear context clues.

[ZeeAk]

At 1/16/11 02:13 PM, SirCannabisClock wrote: Overall- try to use more common words unless you have clear context clues.

Thanks for the feedback. I've gone and changed what really needed to be changed, like that typo, and taken a few of your recommendations.