OK, here's my second draft, enjoy! I edited the battle scene, and added some more description in various places.

Doug and his family are out on a camping trip in snowy Big Bear. The birds are singing, the cold air is crisp, the sun is shining, the smell of pine fills the air. His Aunt Kathy is in a vicious snowball fight with his little cousin Abashai, his Mom and older cousins Heidi and Jodie are out on a hiking trip, and he and his Uncle Kirk are trying to make a fire.

“Why can’t I pick what we’re going to eat tonight? I’m a great chef,â€� Doug whined at Kirk while trying to figure out how to operate the lighter. “Yes, you are, but we can’t eat meat all the time, we need variety. And I really don’t want to feed my family the meat from an elk you just ‘came across dead on the road, apparently killed by a mountain lion’,â€� Kirk rebutted as Doug finally gets the lighter to light, singeing his fingertips. “Ow!,â€� he screams, and sucks on his hand for a while, while Kirk giggles. 

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from someone who, according to his big sister, my mother, would eat a whole pot of meat for dinner. And that elk was perfectly fine, no maggots, no disease, perfectly fresh meat.� “I need to lower my cholesterol, and I. AM. NOT. EATING. CARRION.� “Fine, eat your low-fat, no-taste hotdogs, I’m going to gather some wood so I can cook real food,� as Doug slings his 12 gauge semi-auto shotgun on his back, grabs a hatchet, and walks off into the forest. “Watch out for Bigfoot,� Kirk calls after him in all seriousness, to which Doug gives him a disgusted glance.

“How can a respected US Attorney believe in such un-scientific nonsense? Sure, I’m a Werecat, but that makes perfect sense…to me,� Doug wonders as he decimates Sequoia pine branches with his hatchet, paying utter disregard to the warning signs. “And it was so much fun killing that elk during that nature walk in the morning. I spied the delicious-looking monarch bull elk midway through the walk. I licked my chops as I imagined the delicious aroma of grilling venison, and using its beautiful antlers as a hood ornament. So I slinked off from the main group, shifted into my majestic feline form of a mahogany-furred mountain lion, and stalked it through the woods. Me and the family pretty much took parallel paths, often coming quite close together. They kept checking behind themselves, aware that they were being followed by a mountain lion. I hope I didn’t scare them…too much, at least; I need to maintain my status as King of these parts, and every creature will fear me. After a few minutes, the elk darted through a clearing. It was fast, but I managed to overtake it, jump on its back, and tear through its C-spine with my teeth. All the stress I had about my immunology research project not being funded just melted away that moment. What I did to that elk I wanted to do to the PI for calling my research “impractical and stupid.� I saw the family walking along an over pass-- I hope they took a picture! This time, I actually managed to get my teeth between the vertebrae, so I didn’t have to crunch through bone. It’s not like my teeth can’t handle it, it’s just that I don’t like having to pick out bone splinters from my tongue. I then picked up its carcass in my jaws, and carried it back to camp. Once again, I saw them walking a few hundred feet besides me. I bet Jodie enjoyed seeing that sight of a 200 lb cougar carrying a 1000 lb elk in its jaws – not dragging it, carrying it. Maybe she took a picture! Once I finally got back to camp, I dropped the elk on one of the back roads, shifted back, and went back to our site. A few minutes later, I cooked up a story about needing to go to the convenience store to get some Coke. So I got my favorite drink, and when I came back, I called the guys over to show them what I “found�. They were revolted that I wanted to eat it. I did some very hard work to get that food for us, and now you’re just going to ignore it. You say you want contribution, yet when I do contribute something of value, you reject it. Well then it’s just more yummy meat for me,� Doug thinks as he walks back to camp, carrying several logs for the fire. He hears a low moaning sound, coming from deeper in the forest. He looks around, but seeing nothing, he carries on. "That was an odd sound I've never heard in my kingdom before...I'm not going to say anything about that sound, because that'll just fuel their crazy ideas about Bigfoot."

Nightfall came within a few hours. The fire was now roaring, melting snow around the perimeter of the pit, the pleasant smell of the burning Sequoia wood embalming throughout the camp. It was snowing hard, and everyone was around the pit trying to keep warm, save for Doug, who was still wearing his T-shirt and jeans, with only a motorcycle jacket to keep the snow off, currently carving up his kill’s thigh into steaks with gleeful abandon, blood splattering onto his face and glasses with every chop of his cleaver. He wipes it off with his hand, and licks the blood off, savoring it. This gets him several dirty looks. “Has anyone told you that you’re not normal? And how on earth can you wear that in this freezing weather? And I don’t care how well you season those elk steaks, I’m still not eating it,� Kirk said. “Oh come on, it looks delicious, give it a try; I thought you loved game meat,� Doug’s Mom cajoled. “Yes, if I hunted it…I’m not eating carrion, especially not carrion that was found on the side of the road.� A few minutes later, Doug finishes butchering and seasoning the steaks with spice mix, and pushes a few hotdogs off the fire pit’s griddle with a stick to place several juicy slabs of meat. “I guess I’m the only one here who’ll be eating the finest meat the mountains have to offer,� he says. “Look at the photos I shot while on our nature walk,� Jodie says has she produces her DSLR from her backpack, opens her file, and passes the camera around. “I took a really cool photo of this tom mountain lion killing an elk, look at its mahogany fur glistening in the light!� Doug smiles, “I really do look impressive, don’t I?� “Odd…that elk looks just like the one Doug found…,� Kirk noticed. A low, deep moan rumbles through the site, louder than it was before. “Maybe we’ll see Bigfoot mommy,� Abashai squeels. “If we do, I’ll give it Hell for trespassing in my domain,� Doug thinks.

Later on, Heidi and Jodie are roasting marshmallows over the fire while the rest of Doug’s steaks are grilling, and Kathy is chasing after Abashai who got a hold of the elk’s antlers and smashing them against a tree. The smell of meat fills the air. “Eat like a human being; you’re not an animal! Use your utensils,â€� Doug’s Mom admonishing him for eating his steak by picking it up with his hand and tearing into it like a dog. “I’m twenty-two, don’t tell me how to eat! And why am I the only one enjoying this, it’s so good.â€� “Well, maybe you could feed the rest to your pet cougar,â€� Kirk interjects. “You know I don’t have the freezer space, and this is too much for even me and Chloe!â€� “Why on earth do you keep a cougar as a pet? You weren’t satisfied with regular kitties,â€� Jodie says. “Mountain lions are some of the most majestic and beautiful cats on this planet. Chloe is so sweet, she cuddles with me at bedtime, greets me with kisses every morning, she loves to go on walks through the mountains, and she’s a great guard.â€� “I don’t think anyone is going to invade the home of someone who keeps a mountain lion,â€� Kirk says. Suddenly, a massive, hairy ape-man crashes through the forest into the site, hollering and throwing rocks. “It’s Bigfoot! This is the day we’ve all been waiting for,â€� Doug’s Mom yells as she and the rest get behind a boulder to save themselves from the attack. “I’ll go get the rangers, catch,â€� Doug runs off into the woods, throwing his shotgun and .50 caliber magnum revolver to the group, dodging rock throws.  Doug’s Mom catches the shotgun, Kathy catches his revolver, and Kirk draws his government-issued .50 caliber Desert Eagle. They take aim at Bigfoot and fire, missing but routing Bigfoot back through the forest. Jodie quickly snaps a few pictures. “Why did he have to cook all that meat? Look what the smell attracted!â€� “But now we have conclusive evidence Bigfoot exists,â€� Doug’s Mom says.

As Doug runs through the icy woods, his eyes turn yellow, and his nails become claws. He discards his glasses, since his vision is now as sharp as his claws, even in the barely lit forest. He scrambles across creeks and boulders, trying to get Bigfoot as far away from the site as possible. He hears Bigfoot closing in on him, and he quickly spins around, and his eyes glow briefly. The snow turns to hail mixed with freezing rain, and the winds howl. The glaze ice and bullet-sized hail wreak havoc on the vegetation. Bigfoot struggles against the wind to advance, and hurls a large boulder. Doug pays no attention to the storm and stands his ground, his hair and clothes blowing in the wind. “Invading my territory is one thing, but attacking my family and stealing my food is quite another. Now face the terror that is a Stormwalker!� Doug fully shifts into an 8.5’ tall were-mountain lion, a head taller than Bigfoot, the shift ripping tears in his jacket, shirt, jeans and boots, his hair becoming long tresses trailing to his shoulders like a mane. His new form looks quite feral and terrifying, but at the same time, quite lithe and graceful, a sharp contrast to Bigfoot's utilitarian frame. He bares his razor-sharp teeth, gives a loud hiss that resounds throughout the woods, unsheathes his claws, leaps over Bigfoot’s attack, and slashes its face, ripping apart one of its eyes. Bigfoot screams in terror and runs back the way it came, the hail cutting it and the glaze ice forming on its limbs and the winds slowing it down somewhat. Doug ties his hunting knife to the end of his tail, and gives chase, snarling, hissing, and spitting, slashing through branches with his ice pick like claws.

The group is hiding behind the safety of the boulder, occasionally peeking over, in case Bigfoot returns. The wind chill is so great that icicles are forming in their hair and on their clothes, nicked by the hail. Tree branches are collapsing under the glaze ice, hail, and gale-force winds. Suddenly, Bigfoot runs through the site, fleeing in terror from the angry werecat in hot pursuit, blood dripping from its wounds, freezing as soon as they hit the air. The group raises their weapons and fire at Bigfoot. Angered by this, Bigfoot roars, picks up the massive boulder they’re hiding behind, and is about to smash them with it. “You’re not getting them this time, monkey-breath,â€� Doug thinks as he leaps onto Bigfoot’s back, digging his claws in, making Bigfoot scream in agony. “Let’s get outta here!â€� Jodie screams. “Where do we run?! The visibility is zero!â€� Heidi says. “Just run somewhere, anywhere,â€� Doug’s Mom says. As they’re running away, Doug’s Mom fires the shotgun behind her, shattering his dominant shoulder into a million pieces, some of which are exposed to the frigid air. The blast knocks Doug off Bigfoot and to the ground. He grabs his shoulder, and screams in pain as he tries to push himself off the ground to stand back up, falling again. “I WAS TRYING TO HELP YOU! WHY DID YOU SHOOT ME?!? At least the wound will regenerate quickly,â€� Doug laments in his mind. 

Bigfoot stomps over, and kicks him in the chest, cracking his ribs, then lifts him up by his cat canine necklace, strangling him. Doug starts coughing up pink froth, but ignores this, and starts slashing at its abdomen with the claws on his feet and his tail blade. Bigfoot screams and drops him back down; Doug’s lower back and tail break upon the impact, eliciting another scream, both from the cracking of the vertebrae and the herniation of the discs into his spinal canal. “If Mom didn’t shoot me, I could’ve been putting this caveman in formalin right now. Why on earth would she fire a gun in a total whiteout,� he thinks. After a terrifying 5 minutes on the ground, paralyzed with burning pain running up and down his back and legs, being soaked by the freezing rain and pelted by the hail, his injuries heal. He gets up, fire in his eyes, and slowly marches over to Bigfoot, tearing off the accumulated glaze ice. Bigfoot is severely, weakened by its injuries, the weight of the glaze ice on it, and the sub-zero temperatures. Meanwhile, the family is watching the battle from a safe distance, through the range-finding scope on his hunting revolver. “He needs to finish Bigfoot off now, or he’s going to die,� Doug’s Mom says. “What do you mean, his injuries healed completely,� Kirk said. “Look closely at the right side of his chest it’s not expanding fully and his neck veins are distended. When he got kicked by Bigfoot, a rib fracture must’ve punctured his lung.� “So? If he can heal from a shotgun blast to the shoulder in five minutes, this should be nothing.� “It doesn’t matter if the lung wound healed, there’s still air trapped in his chest, crushing his pulmonary artery.�

“Now, you will die,� Doug said in his low, raspy, hissy voice, his breathing labored, while walking over to Bigfoot, ripping off more glaze ice. Bigfoot attempts to throw a punch. Doug catches its fist, digs his claws into its wrist, and sharply pulls back, severing its hand. Then he pins Bigfoot to a boulder with one of his arms, and bites through its neck, crushing its vertebrae and severing its spinal cord. Bigfoot slumps to the floor. “Yes! He won!,� the group cheers from their hiding spot. Exhausted from the battle and fighting to breathe, he collapses to the ground and reverts back to human form. The storm clears.

The next morning, Doug wakes up in the trailer. He looks quite worried. “They found out what I am…I hope they don’t disown me and run me out of town,� he thinks as he pours a Coke and timidly walks outside to the campsite, where breakfast is cooking. “Our hero has awoken from his slumber,� Jodie yells out. “Wait…how you knew I was the werecat,� Doug asks. “Because it was wearing your clothes, and come on, it’s not that hard to figure out that if someone runs into the woods, and a few minutes later, a mythical creature wearing their clothes runs out, that the person must be a shape-shifter,� Kirk says. “So, so you’re not scared of me,� Doug asks. “Of course not, we know you’d never hurt us on purpose,� Doug’s Mom says. “So, are we going to have the elk steaks for lunch?� “I really appreciate all the hard work you put into taking down that elk, but I’m still not eating it. Also, you do realize this is a national park, correct,� Kirk says. “Yeah…what are you getting at?� “Well, I could indict you for illegal taking of game.� “As if attempting to file those charges wouldn’t get you disbarred or put in the loony bin; you really think any grand jury is going to believe ‘The defendant shape-shifted into the form of a mountain lion, and took the elk, so therefore the United States would like to indict him for taking game without valid tags’?� “That’s what makes this so difficult."

Any ideas on how I should describe Doug's shift? I'm pretty horrible at that kind of description. Did you like the previous battle scene, or this new one? Our intrepid hero gets tossed around quite a bit more.

Last edited by Protoman2050 (2011-07-15 05:23:57)

Dira wrote:

I'd summarise, his personality being that of a mysterious character, since I don't know too much about his past, but during the fight it shows he is also protective, that he loves eating the rarest meat of all. That this character doesn't like the outdoors unless it goes as he wants it to.  The fight was perfect! I imagine a scene where they smack against the tree, the monster, and then as the big foot dies his head lolls to the one side, the color of the blood staining his shirt and dripping from Doug's shirt.

So, which would you rather meet in a dark alley way, Bigfoot or Doug in werecat form?

What was the best part of the fight? Poor Doug, getting shot at, a pneumothorax, broken spine...

That storm probably caused the weather service to freak out. "Sir, there's a large amount of freezing rain and hail, and 54 mph winds, but the odd thing is that it's limited to a square mile area. The surrounding weather is completely normal. What could this mean?"

Would this make a good movie? If it was movie, and there was background music playing during the fight, what would you suggest?

Maybe I should change the last line to "If I can indict a ham sandwich, I can certainly indict you!", because a good prosecutor is said to be able to indict a ham sandwich.

"What, did you charge your lunch with battery for giving you an upset stomach? Right..."

So, what genre would this be in, action/adventure, or horror?

Where do you think the dividing lines between acts are? And where do you think the climax is? Although, I doubt you could apply Freytag's analysis to this, since this isn't a Greek play :-)

Last edited by Protoman2050 (2011-07-16 03:00:07)

Dira wrote:

Broken spine, vertebra. Action adventure! Horror has more flow to it and more gore and horror, like families dying or friends hung from a tree to die... Something like that, voodoo stuff. Unless big foot was a witch craft spell. The climax is at the fight and then it rolls down into a night where the family knows. Well, describing on subject in one paragraph still in the same line. If your about to change to another point of view or another object you can make a new paragraph.

Glad you liked the broken spine; I was watching this video clip of Superman vs Darkseid, and Superman is getting beat up by Darkseid, including getting a broken back, only for Superman to reveal his true power and smash him through 6 or 7 skyscrapers. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cl_5UwS57X8

Although the effect doesn't quite work in my story, since Doug is simply hoping he survives through the time on the ground for his injuries to regenerate.

What should I title this story? I hope I did a good job with my characters, given the limited space.

Dira wrote:

Nightmare creatures
Hark
Gore Cogar
Panthera
The Cogar link
Rearrangement
Clearing
Big Bear
Temprament
Roads leader
A leach in camp
Camp Burrowgrounds
Big monsters
Blood afoot

So, how would you rate my writing skills? I like "Nightmare Creatures" for the title.

What was the worst (in terms of my writing, not the actual story) pat of the story, and how should I remedy it?

Alot better! I love the fire scene, sound cousy.

Last edited by Dira (2011-07-17 04:15:02)

A Tenner. This was good! now discribe your story in six words? Doug saves family from bigfoot attack? something like that. Very nice!  also it be great if you start out with something like, Big bear discription, would be nice to hear of a place I haven't been to before.

I'm from South Africa.

Don't worry the worst story I've read was a story about a beggar, I didn't understand anything, didn't understand why such a book got published. But yours is great, not too fast, and not too slow. But read it like there is time you should add to it, almost journal like, to see if the story is good, read out loud. And make sure that the story starts at nightfall, or the beginning of nightfall. To add some tension, read some scary dark poems, and see how you edit the final draft of the story. Sometimes you don't have to worry about fragments, because fragments are sometimes accepted in publishing the story, fragments often makes sense too. Yes Afrikaans is my first langauge. If you wish to add some scenery in a story, I'd be happy to let the story sound cousy at first and then became dark and sinister. It isn't usually sinister when someone tells a story. But you can make it ambigouis and scary, by just figuring out what does the story meant to you, what makes your writing skills tick. And what are your strong points. You did not atall fall under the beginners mistakes. But to capture a reader you should have the start of your story-- catch them with six words or two sentences for the reader to continue. Plus I think your sense of humor is quite asharp one to have such intelligent remarks to answer bag to your made up characters. Me I am light with jokes. Often light jokes are made for kids books, but I think you knocked some jokes of your own onto the writer's board. Now don't go getting writers block. Your story's fact-- It's good, oh yea, and don't Capitalize your story character's speach, Your speach of a character should be exclamarked >!!<  One or two, not more than that. You could add some feeling to a story, meaning to add some emotions of your character. like Anguish and fear was his reaction to the bullet fired from his mother, in a trouble he treid to regain his composure.... continue with attack. Like ruthless, or the last resort killing the creature like the deer Doug found.

Alot better beginning!

Yes, go ahead

Dira wrote:

Did I give my characters a good voice? Were they likeable? Also, how would you think a beginning writer would've wrote this? Did you like the interplay between Doug and Kirk? Oh, and glad you liked the jokes. You really think they're intelligent?

They were likeable, but some characters don't have history stuck to their name in the story, if you like add some history of their aswell.  A beginning writer would have told the story in words instead of showing with description. Yes the jokes sound intelligent, this doesn't sound like a teen story joke, but still can be explained easily to people. First off was he born a were cougar, or was he attacked by a cougar. That is my question.

Was my story plot-driven or character-driven?

Honestly the characters are fine, the plot doesn't actaully go anywhere else accept the fight, unless you want to continue with it, with the creature's arm moving again, like its healing, and as doug walks back the creature was gone, only one clue was left and it was its blood.

Should I have described my characters' appearances? In my mind, Doug looks like Dr Oliver from Power Rangers Dino Thunder (aka Jason David Frank)

Sadly I don't watch power rangers anymore, so that description doesn't help imagination. but I take it he's white and beardless? Black hair, as they normally come across. You can describe your characters. By also means of just a noticable thing about them, like the aunt would have an obession of protecting her family or something, while she still wears what looks to be the creases in her eyes showing she had aged since knowing Doug.

Now I really would love to see how a bad writer would've wrote this. It'd be interesting to read your take.

sorry I'm not a bad writer, I've been writing seriously for the past five years, and Been writing since I was nine years old. lol. A bad writer would have just popped the idea down, like words forming but not making any sense. Like an unlinked story. Because if a story starts with a digital future and its not exxplained, the person gets lost and stops reading. So putting the year and date of the time the characters are, would make some good story. Since characters are defined at the age their living in. If it was midieval times, your characters wouldn't talk like their doing now. So yours is at the present time. So no one would get confused.

Oh, and btw, the reason Doug's jeans are soaking in blood after Bigfoot smashes him to the ground on his back, is because when you have kidney trauma, blood starts spilling into the ureters, and eventually exits through the urethra. Very bad thing.

I think that is a good idea you have there. So I'd be happy to write mine down. Min comes across as a midieval voice-- narraration. And I'm not sure you'd like to hear dramatic ideas in your story. Like the history of how he came to be, and why bigfoot existed in this story aswell.

Good advice, though I'm pretty happy how this turned out. Doug was born a werecougar, but a bracelet that he bought at a cat show activated his abilities. I'm going to put that in.

It'd be so funny to read this if Stephanie Meyers of Twilight infamy wrote it. It'd be double the length, with geologic pacing and flawless, boring characters.

Btw, what exactly are the mistakes beginning writers make, and see if you could give me examples based on the story, i.e. turn some of my prose into something cringe-worthy.

Oh, and here's my next draft:

Big Bear is a wonderful winter vacation spot, located high in the mountains of North California. Thousands of people from the beaches come to get away from the bland winter weather in the south. But recently, reports have flooded the local papers of a mysterious creature, thought to be the legendary Bigfoot, attacking those who venture into the forest, and its image as a winter wonderland has been marred. This doesn’t scare one family, though, who still decide to go forth with their annual family vacation.

Doug and his family are out on a camping trip in snowy Big Bear. The birds are singing, the cold air is crisp, the sun is setting, the smell of pine fills the air. His Aunt Kathy is in a vicious snowball fight with his little cousin Abashai, his Mom and older cousins Heidi and Jodie are out on a hiking trip, and he and his Uncle Kirk are trying to make a fire.

“Why can’t I pick what we’re going to eat tonight? I’m a great chef,� Doug whined at Kirk while trying to figure out how to operate the lighter. “Yes, you are, but we can’t eat meat all the time, we need variety. And I really don’t want to feed my family the meat from an elk you just ‘came across dead on the road, apparently killed by a mountain lion’,� Kirk rebutted as Doug finally gets the lighter to light, singeing his fingertips. “Ow!,� he screams, and sucks on his hand for a while, while Kirk giggles. “What are you laughing at, you know I have no depth perception because of my lazy eye.�

“And I can’t believe I’m hearing this from someone who, according to his big sister, my mother, would eat a whole pot of meat for dinner. And that elk was perfectly fine, no maggots, no disease, perfectly fresh meat.� “I need to lower my cholesterol, and I absolutely refuse to eat carrion.� “Fine, eat your low-fat, no-taste hotdogs, I’m going to gather some wood so I can cook real food,� as Doug slings his 12 gauge semi-auto shotgun on his back, grabs a hatchet, and walks off into the forest. “Watch out for Bigfoot, I’ve been hearing some strange sounds, and you’ve read the reports,� Kirk calls after him in all seriousness, to which Doug gives him a disgusted glance. “Maybe those sounds are your stomach begging for some of this delicious elk.�

“Uncle Kirk just got appointed as the US Attorney for the Central District of Illinois. Against all odds, he led the investigation of and convicted a district judge who was being paid off by mafia to dismiss their RICO cases on bizarre technicalities. How on earth can he believe in such un-scientific nonsense?  Guess our dear Uncle Bruce has been filling their minds with his crackpot theories. Why anyone would put faith in a bunch of blurry videos is beyond me. Patterson and Gimlin, you’ve certainly derailed the minds of my friends and family. We used to have so much fun going up here to play in the snow, sled, maybe even ski. But now every trip becomes an episode of “Searching for Bigfoot.â€� I just want to be able to enjoy my vacations, and not be dragged along into searching for a black cat in a dark room that doesn’t exist.â€� Doug wonders as he decimates Sequoia pine branches with his hatchet, paying utter disregard to the warning signs. He admires the silver bracelet on his left wrist, on it a gold cat’s claw holding a ruby, surrounded by diamond ice crystals.

“I bought this bracelet so many years ago. It immediately caught my eye while I was showing one of my grand champion Bengals. The guy who sold it to me told me it was meant for me. I thought he was just being a salesman with that comment, but later that week I found myself in the body of a mountain lion. I was nearly shot by Mom. I leapt on her to disarm her. She fought to get me off her, hitting me on my nose. I got knocked on my back; she picked up the gun, and was about to fire. I was mewing, horrified that my life would end like this. Luckily, she noticed the bracelet on my left paw, realized who I was, and started petting me. I remember Mom saying ‘Well, this puts your cat obsession into perspective. I always wondered if something was up when even the feral neighborhood cats would come up to you, and not scratch and bite you like they did to anyone else. Just use your gift wisely; we still love you.’ But they finagled my cat’s vet to prescribe them an etorphine dart gun to tranquilize me, just in case things went bad. How they got her to do that I will never know. We hoped no-one would end up shooting me while I explored the local woods.

Taking a simple walk became fraught with danger. This summer, I was following some church youth group hiking up to see a waterfall. Part of the trail had a loose gravel path, and my depth perception makes that absolutely terrifying. So I decided to use my feline form so I could use the firmer dirt on the cliffs. I finally got to the waterfall, and was enjoying the spray and the view. The leader of the group spotted me, and started screaming and yelling. I hissed at him to be quiet. He threw a rock at my eye, and aimed his sidearm. As he was about to fire, my fear and instincts took over. I leapt on him and tore his throat out. Blood drenched everything in sight. The kids ran off by then. Once I regained my composure, I realized what happened. I ran away, hoping animal control wouldn’t find me. When the gravel portion of the path ended, I shifted back and walked the trail back to our site, shaking with fear. Mom asked me how my sight-seeing went. I cried and told her what happened. She comforted me as best as she could, but she told me I had to stay at camp for the rest of the trip, since most of the trails had conditions that make it dangerous for someone without depth perception, she didn’t want me or anyone else in danger, and animal control would surely shoot me. My fun trip was essentially cut short at day 1, because some idiot youth leader wouldn’t simply back away…he didn’t have to threaten me like that. I just wanted to see that waterfall everyone talks about, and I never could before because I couldn’t take the trail,� Doug thinks, leaning against a tree, his arm covering his watering eyes. He slumps to the floor.

“Luckily, this trip is going much better,� he says, perking up.�It was so much fun killing that elk during that nature walk in the morning, much more fun than having to put up with Mom saying ‘These may be the tracks of the Sasquatch,� every time they found any large animal footprints, and detouring us to follow them to who knows where. If there’s one thing I detest more than them talking about cryptids with the same tone as my research presentations, it’s going off on snipe hunts, which this walk was quickly becoming.

Luckily, my mood peaked when I spied the delicious-looking monarch bull elk midway through the walk. I licked my chops as I imagined the delicious aroma of grilling venison, and using its beautiful antlers as a hood ornament. So I slinked off from the main group, shifted into my majestic feline form of a mahogany-furred mountain lion, and stalked it through the woods. Me and the family pretty much took parallel paths, often coming quite close together. They kept checking behind themselves, aware that they were being followed by a mountain lion. I hope I didn’t scare them…too much, at least; I need to maintain my status as King of these parts, and every creature will fear me. After a few minutes, the elk darted through a clearing. It was fast, but I managed to overtake it, jump on its back, and tear through its C-spine with my teeth. All the stress I had about my immunology research project not being funded just melted away that moment. What I did to that elk I wanted to do to the PI for calling my research “impractical and stupid.�

I saw the family walking along an over pass-- I hope they took a picture! This time, I actually managed to get my teeth between the vertebrae, so I didn’t have to crunch through bone. It’s not like my teeth can’t handle it, it’s just that I don’t like having to pick out bone splinters from my tongue. I then picked up its carcass in my jaws, and carried it back to camp. Once again, I saw them walking a few hundred feet besides me. I bet Jodie enjoyed seeing that sight of a 200 lb cougar carrying a 1000 lb elk in its jaws – not dragging it, carrying it. Maybe she took a picture! Once I finally got back to camp, I dropped the elk on one of the back roads, shifted back, and went back to our site.

A few minutes later, I cooked up a story about needing to go to the convenience store to get some Coke. So I got my favorite drink, and when I came back, I called the guys over to show them what I “found�. They were revolted that I wanted to eat it. I did some very hard work to get that food for us, and now you’re just going to ignore it. You say you want contribution, yet when I do contribute something of value, you reject it. Well then it’s just more yummy meat for me,� Doug thinks as he walks back to camp, carrying several logs for the fire. He hears a low moaning sound, coming from deeper in the forest. He looks around, but seeing nothing, he carries on. "That was an odd sound I've never heard in my kingdom before...I'm not going to say anything about that sound, because that'll just fuel their crazy ideas about Bigfoot."

Nightfall came within a few hours. The fire was now roaring, melting snow around the perimeter of the pit, the pleasant smell of the burning Sequoia wood embalming throughout the camp. It was snowing hard, and everyone was around the pit trying to keep warm, save for Doug, who was still wearing his T-shirt and jeans, with only a motorcycle jacket to keep the snow off, currently carving up his kill’s thigh into steaks with gleeful abandon, blood splattering onto his face and glasses with every chop of his cleaver. He wipes it off with his hand, and licks the blood off, savoring it. This gets him several dirty looks. “Has anyone told you that you’re not normal; you look like Jeffrey Dahmer. And how on earth can you wear that in this freezing weather? And I don’t care how well you season those elk steaks, I’m still not eating it,� Kirk said. “Oh come on, it looks delicious, give it a try; I thought you loved game meat,� Doug’s Mom cajoled. “Yes, if I hunted it…I’m not eating carrion, especially not carrion that was found on the side of the road.�
A few minutes later, Doug finishes butchering and seasoning the steaks with spice mix, and pushes a few hotdogs off the fire pit’s griddle with a stick to place several juicy slabs of meat. “I guess I’m the only one here who’ll be eating the finest meat the mountains have to offer,� he says. “Why did you just push off our hotdogs into the fire,� Jodie asks. “Because I am apparently the only one here who knows good food, and convenience store hotdogs are an affront to me.� “Road kill prepared by Emeril is still road kill.� “But being prepared by Emeril ennobles the meat, and his output cannot be questioned.� “You really need a Food Network show; I’m sure it’d be quite popular with truckers and hitchhikers. Anyway, look at the photos I shot while on our nature walk,� Jodie says as she produces her DSLR from her backpack, opens her file, and passes the camera around. “I took a really cool photo of this tom mountain lion killing an elk, look at its mahogany fur glistening in the light!� Doug smiles, thinking “I really do look impressive, don’t I?� “Odd…that elk looks just like the one Doug found…,� Kirk said while examining the photo. A low, deep moan rumbles through the site, louder than it was before. “Maybe we’ll see Bigfoot mommy,� Abashai squeels. “If we do, I’ll give it Hell for trespassing in my domain,� Doug thinks.

Later on, Heidi and Jodie are roasting marshmallows over the fire while the rest of Doug’s steaks are grilling, and Kathy is chasing after Abashai who got a hold of the elk’s antlers and smashing them against a tree. The smell of meat fills the air. “Eat like a human being; you’re not an animal! Use your utensils,� Doug’s Mom admonishing him for eating his steak by picking it up with his hand and tearing into it like a dog. The meat was so rare that blood and melted fat were dripping from his mouth. “And even if you are a werecat, it still doesn’t excuse you from being presentable,� she whispered into his ear. “I’m twenty-two, don’t tell me how to eat! And why am I the only one enjoying this, it’s so good.� “Well, maybe you could feed the rest to your pet cougar,� Kirk interjects. “You know I don’t have the freezer space, and this is too much for even me and Chloe!� “Why on earth do you keep a cougar as a pet? You weren’t satisfied with regular kitties anymore,� Jodie says. “Mountain lions are some of the most majestic and beautiful cats on this planet. Chloe is so sweet, she cuddles with me at bedtime, greets me with kisses every morning, she loves to go on walks through the mountains, and she’s a great guard.� “I don’t think anyone is going to invade the home of someone who keeps a mountain lion,� Kirk says.

Suddenly, a massive, hairy ape-man crashes through the forest into the site, hollering and throwing rocks. “It’s Bigfoot! This is the day we’ve all been waiting for,â€� Doug’s Mom yells as she and the rest get behind a boulder to save themselves from the attack. “I’ll go get the rangers, catch,â€� Doug runs off into the woods, throwing his shotgun and .50 caliber magnum revolver to the group, dodging rock throws.  Doug’s Mom catches the shotgun, Kathy catches his revolver, and Kirk draws his government-issued .50 caliber Desert Eagle. They take aim at Bigfoot and fire, missing but routing Bigfoot back through the forest. Jodie quickly snaps a few pictures. “Why did he have to cook all that meat? Look what the smell attracted!â€� “But now we have conclusive evidence Bigfoot exists,â€� Doug’s Mom says.

As Doug runs through the icy woods, his eyes turn yellow, and his nails become claws. The ruby on his bracelet glows. He discards his glasses, since his vision is now as sharp as his claws, even in the barely lit forest. He scrambles across creeks and boulders, trying to get Bigfoot as far away from the site as possible. He hears Bigfoot closing in on him, and he quickly spins around, his eyes glowing briefly. The snow turns to hail mixed with freezing rain, and the winds howl. The glaze ice and bullet-sized hail wreak havoc on the vegetation. A plane is heard falling from the sky somewhere as its deicing system quickly overloads. The weather station issues a blizzard warning. A falling power line shuts down the lights and area cell phone towers.

Bigfoot struggles against the wind to advance, and hurls a large boulder. Doug pays no attention to the storm and stands his ground, his hair and clothes blowing in the wind. “Invading my territory is one thing, but attacking my family and stealing my food is quite another. Now face the terror that is a Stormwalker!� Doug fully shifts into an 8.5’ tall were-mountain lion, a head taller than Bigfoot, the shift ripping tears in his jacket, shirt, jeans and boots, his hair becoming long tresses trailing to his shoulders like a mane. His new form looks quite feral and terrifying, but also lithe and graceful, a sharp contrast to Bigfoot’s utilitarian frame. He bares his razor-sharp teeth, gives a loud hiss that resounds throughout the woods, unsheathes his claws, leaps over Bigfoot’s attack, and slashes its face, ripping apart one of its eyes, the impact knocking it off balance. Bigfoot screams in terror and runs back the way it came, the hail cutting it and the glaze ice forming on its limbs and the winds slowing it down somewhat, occasionally slipping on the ice. “This is going to be as easy as the Russians staving off the Nazis; Chewbacca can’t even maintain traction,� Doug observes as he ties his hunting knife to the end of his tail, and gives chase, snarling, hissing, and spitting, slashing through branches with his ice pick like claws.

The group is hiding behind the safety of the boulder, occasionally peeking over, in case Bigfoot returns. The wind chill is so great that icicles are forming in their hair and on their clothes, nicked by the hail. Tree branches are collapsing under the glaze ice, hail, and gale-force winds. Suddenly, Bigfoot runs through the site, fleeing in terror from the angry werecat in hot pursuit, blood dripping from its wounds, freezing as soon as they hit the air. The group raises their weapons and fire at Bigfoot. Angered by this, Bigfoot roars, picks up the massive boulder they’re hiding behind, and is about to smash them with it. “You’re not getting them this time, Wookie,� Doug thinks as he leaps onto Bigfoot’s back, digging his claws in, making Bigfoot scream in agony. “Let’s get outta here!� Jodie screams. “Where do we run?! The visibility is zero! And my smartphone’s GPS won’t work,� Heidi says. “Just run somewhere, anywhere,� Doug’s Mom says.

As they’re running away, Doug’s Mom fires the shotgun behind her, shattering his dominant shoulder into a million pieces, some of which are exposed to the frigid air. The blast knocks Doug off Bigfoot and to the ground. He grabs his shoulder, and screams in pain as he tries to push himself off the ground to stand back up, falling again. “What on earth would possess you to fire in these conditions? Do you want Bigfoot to eat you just for the chance at a few more photos? Or did you really think a mere shotgun can defeat a Bigfoot? At least the wound will regenerate quickly,â€� Doug laments in his mind, frustration and fear filling his mind as he braces for what Bigfoot could do to him due to his chance at curb-stomping it being harshly taken away by his mother’s rash actions.  “I’m so sorry…the scope was frozen over, and I was aiming for Bigfoot. Here’s to you recovering fast,â€� Doug’s Mom thinks as she runs away with the rest of the group.

Bigfoot stomps over, and kicks him in the chest, cracking his ribs, then lifts him up by his cat canine necklace, strangling him. Doug starts coughing up pink froth, but manages to overcome the pain to slash at its abdomen with the claws on his feet and his tail blade. Bigfoot screams and drops him back down; Doug’s lower back, pelvis, and tail shatter upon the impact, eliciting another scream, both from the cracking of the bones and the herniation of the discs into his spinal canal. Blood from smashed kidneys soaks his jeans. “If Mom didn’t shoot me, I could’ve been putting this caveman in formalin right now. Why on earth would she fire a gun in a total whiteout,� he thinks. After a terrifying 5 minutes on the ground, dizzy from the internal bleeding, paralyzed with burning pain running up and down his back and legs, being soaked by the freezing rain and pelted by the hail, his injuries heal. He gets up, fire in his eyes, and slowly marches over to Bigfoot, tearing off the accumulated glaze ice. Bigfoot is severely, weakened by its injuries, the weight of the glaze ice on it, and the sub-zero temperatures. Meanwhile, the family is watching the battle from a safe distance, through the range-finding scope on his hunting revolver. “Where did that werecat come from? They’re not supposed to exist,� Kathy asks. “You know how Doug has always had a cat obsession,� Doug’s Mom says. “So he’s the…,� Kirk asks. “Yes.� “So our nephew is a semi-immortal mythical creature that makes a Bigfoot look common and weak?� “Anyway, he needs to finish Bigfoot off now, or he’s going to die,� Doug’s Mom says. “What do you mean, his injuries healed completely,� Kirk said. “Look closely at the right side of his chest it’s not expanding fully and his neck veins are distended. When he got kicked by Bigfoot, a rib fracture must’ve punctured his lung.� “So? If he can heal from a shotgun blast to the shoulder in five minutes, this should be nothing.� “It doesn’t matter if the lung wound healed, there’s still air trapped in his chest, crushing his pulmonary artery.�

“Now, you will die, Chewbacca� Doug said in his low, raspy, hissy voice, his breathing labored, while walking over to Bigfoot, ripping off more glaze ice. Bigfoot attempts to throw a punch. Doug catches its fist, digs his claws into its wrist, and sharply pulls back, severing its hand. Then he pins Bigfoot to a boulder with one of his arms, and bites through its neck, crushing its vertebrae and severing its spinal cord. Bigfoot slumps to the floor. “Yes! He won!,� the group cheers from their hiding spot. Exhausted from the battle and fighting to breathe, its blood dripping and freezing on his fangs and shirt, he collapses to the ground and reverts back to human form. The storm clears.

The next morning, Doug wakes up in the trailer. He looks quite worried. “They found out what I am…I hope they don’t disown me and run me out of town,� he thinks as he pours a Coke and timidly walks outside to the campsite, where breakfast is cooking. “Our hero has awoken from his slumber,� Jodie yells out. “Wait…how you knew I was the werecat,� Doug asks. “Your Mom told us,� Kirk says. “So you’re not scared of me,� Doug asks. “Of course not, we know you’d never hurt us on purpose,� Doug’s Mom says. “So, are we going to have the elk steaks for lunch? They’re flash-frozen now, so there’s no danger of them spoiling.� “I really appreciate all the hard work you put into taking down that elk, but I’m still not eating it. Also, you do realize this is a national park, correct,� Kirk says. “Yeah…what are you getting at?� “Well, I could indict you for illegal taking of game.� “As if attempting to file those charges wouldn’t get you disbarred or put in the loony bin; you really think any grand jury is going to believe ‘The defendant shape-shifted into the form of a mountain lion, and took the elk, so therefore the United States would like to indict him for taking game without valid tags’?� “I’ve indicted a ham sandwich before for giving me an upset stomach, so I can certainly indict you.� “I’m sure the food court at the mall lived up to its name. Did you also get an arrest warrant for its co-conspirators in your fridge? And how did the SWAT raid on the pantry go,� Doug says as everyone, save for Kirk, convulses with laughter.

Last edited by Protoman2050 (2011-07-20 07:01:20)

So, anyone want to read my latest version? Comments greatly appreciated!

Dira wrote:

Ok there is a long list of beginner problems.

Ask yourself this: Is there only one main idea in this paragraph,

Does every sentence have a verb?, Does te verb agree with the subject? ,

Which wods are unnecessary?, is this the bet word to use?,

Will the reader be able to see the room in her mind,

are all the words precise?,

Can I suggest more precise ones?

Have I used only neccessary words?

Have I said anything more than once?

Do the prepositions tell the reader precisely where everything is?

Do the prepositions match the nouns?

Here you can use your dictionary(your second asssistant) the make sure. Is the consonant doubled after a short vowel sound?

Spelling is also important. Is the verb before Subject in every question? Does every question end with a question mark? Do/Does.did;is/are, a helping verb;wh-word?

Does the subject follow directly after: Do /does.did, a helping verb; is/are?

Is the  main verb after every helping verb either the unchanged verb or an-ing participle or a past participle?

Think about the topic before writing anything, Jot down many Ideas, Put your main ideas into a mind map, add keywords to each main idea, use your skeleton mindmap to write your essay.

Thanks. If you read Twilight, you'll see all of them. Once, I saw such purple prose that the subject and predicate were lost in a sea of modifiers and subordinate phrases.

Did you read the final version I posted?