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@wingiby-iggiby

WINGIBY!! I missed you so much!! *Bowls you over with a massive hug*

OooOh, I love that story! It’s creepy and hopeful at the same time! I love the concept, and Isaac seems like an interesting character!

Okay, here are a few things I’d change. I’m mostly focusing on paragraph-level.

 

I rested my feet on the pedals and coasted down the hill toward the wharf on my squeaky, derelict bike. The dirt road was smooth, packed down by the passing of many feet now eerily silent. The rickety buildings on either side looked like they might’ve been crying, and in the distance a tower and two windmills rose like twisted fingers against a watery sky.

Okay, Calidris covered that last sentence, and I shall cover the first two!

It seems you’re getting your descriptions slightly out of order, though they’re good in and of themselves.

I rested my feet on the pedals and coasted down the hill toward the wharf on my squeaky, derelict bike.

You can cut “I rested my feet on the pedals” since it doesn’t really add anything to the story. If you just say he’s coasting down a hill, that’s assumed. Also, you might want to show his bike squeaking and rattling, contrasting it against the silence of the street.

The dirt road was smooth, packed down by the passing of many feet now eerily silent.

The eerily silent part feels tacked on, like an afterthought. If you show that earlier, you can cut it out entirely. And you can take out that the road is smooth, so you’d get something like this:

The dirt road had been packed down by the passing of many feet. No more. Now it was just me and my rattling bike.

 

My shirt clung to my back and my tongue was thick — I really regretted speeding past that well of shimmering water. I could, at least, picture the water’s rippling pattern in my head and refresh my weary mind.

Instead of saying he regretted it, you can show him regretting it by thinking something like “I should have stopped by the well of shimmering water.”

Also, the mood in your scene is good, I really like it! But the well of fresh water rather contrasts against it. If it was murky or dull, it would add to the mood of the scene.

Unless you deliberately want that contrast for symbolism! It could be cool!

But in the saggy pockets of my brown trousers, I heard wood rattle against wood — tiny dolls no taller than the length of your hand; dolls with dull black eyes.

Considering what we learn later, you can even expand on their eyes, to add a little more creepiness to it. He could think about how the dull eyes never sparkled and how they seemed to gaze into him reproachfully.

Oh, and you’re filtering! “I heard–”

You could simplify that into: Wood rattled against wood in the sagging pockets of my trousers–

My heart lurched at the thought of them, and I turned and braked in front of an antiqued shop beside the grey sea.

I pushed open the door and a tiny bell tingled. I emptied the dolls onto a table and sniffled as dust tickled my nostrils. All along the walls were shelves; shelves full of more unnerving dolls. There were old men and women, young boys and girls — even tiny babies. And there were also all sorts of animals. Sunlight sifted through a window, filling the room and glinting off of hundreds of dark black eyes.

This is pretty cool! I think the only thing I’d change is to add a little more of Isaac’s internal thoughts and actions. And maybe describe the inside of the shop in a really broad way? Something like: “There was no speck of color, the wood of the dolls blended into the wooden walls, only interrupted by those hundreds of glaring eyes.”

In a far corner, a man bent over a table, gently flicking flakes of wood off a chunk of aspen. I cleared my throat — gruffly. His hair was brown, peppered with gray, and it curled out from under a slouching cap. When he turned toward me, the curls flounced.

I like this description, but you’re describing a few things twice. Like his hair curling. You could cut the italic sentence entirely and simply say: Gray-streaked curls bounced out from beneath a slouching cap as he turned toward me.

“There ya are, Isaac,” he hummed, picking up one of the dolls I had brought and tracing his fingers over its eyes. “Ah, very good, very good. There are more fer ya by the door.”

I gulped warm water from a ragged flask, gagged, and then sighed. “Can’t I be done?”

The carpenter looked up. The stubble on his chin quivered and his blue eyes flashed. “No.”

Okay, this is pretty good, but you can add more of Isaac’s thoughts here. What’s his relationship with the carpenter? Is he scared? Regretful? Uncertain? You say he despised him, but you can expand on that even more.

Also, you can add stakes. What would happen if he stopped? What keeps him coming back?

I stuck out my lower lip and despised the man even while submissively collecting more dolls.

But these were eyeless dolls.

Goosebumps prickled my skin as I held them.

When I stepped outside into the searing sun, I decided to venture down a cooler side street. After a few minutes, I stopped in front of a tall, shaky building full of musty windows. I stared at it for several moments, feeling my muscles tense.

Okay, I’m going to suggest a bit of poetic irony. To enhance the mood of the scene, you could possibly make it overcast, the whole world washed out with gray. And then when he steps outside with his sister, you can have the golden sun come out. This works too, I just think it would be cool!

Then I opened the door and let light tumble into a molding kitchen. In the sun’s glow I could see two bodies lying on the floor, the rise and fall of their chests almost imperceptible.

A tall man with flaxen hair; a woman with emerald eyes; and then, in a crib, was a tiny baby with hair so fine it was nearly invisible. The cradle was carved with a shaky but loving hand: Lora.

I walked over to the man and pushed the hair back from his face; I kissed the woman on the cheek; and I coddled the baby’s tiny fingers in my hand. I glanced about the mournful room and noticed a mouse limp on the floor by the wall.

Now, I’m assuming this is his family, and he seems to love them, but you can expand on his thoughts here. (If it isn’t his family, I’d clarify that) Why are they still asleep? (Also, if they’re asleep, it doesn’t make sense to describe the woman’s eye color as though he’s seeing it.) Have they been dolled already? Is he the only one taking care of the family?

I tiptoed over, and placed a teeny mouse doll next to it. Then I squinted my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and pushed down on the mouse’s body. A small burst of air puffed out of its mouth, and two black eyes appeared on the doll’s face.

It’s life was “dolled” for the carpenter.

I stared at the small body while stinging remorse filled my heart until it throbbed. Then I bit my lip as warm tears slid down my cheeks and I clenched my fists, inhaling sharply.

Okay, it’s interesting that you chose to do a reveal here, I quite like it! Isaac seems quite good-hearted.

No longer. I couldn’t do this any longer. No more would I be his servant! I refused to steal the souls of the people I loved.

Even if that meant he dolled me too.

But in order for that to work, you’ll have to establish stakes earlier. I don’t know what he’s giving up or risking by deciding to go. You’re implying he would be dolled too, but why? Is it a punishment? You could clear up the carpenter’s motivations in the conversation. You don’t need to expand on it too much, just hint at it.

I walked over to the cradle and picked up the baby. She was light in my arms. Then I stepped toward the door.

The sun’s light was golden.

Golden like my sister’s eyes.

Okay, I love the ending! But I’m wondering, is the rest of his family already dolled? Why is he leaving them behind? Where is he going? You could leave that vague, but you could also have him look out at sea and think about a land that isn’t ruled by such an evil man. Or something, I don’t know XD

 

Anyway, loved reading it! And I’m so happy to see you again! How have you been? What have you been up to? How has the writing been?