"something i wrote"

[ѕнα∂σω]

Before I begin the next instalment in "Guyver's Last War", I feel the need to point out that I am, in fact, the writer of it. At this current moment in time, I am unsure whether to be pleased or annoyed at the fact that my recent thread, containing the first instalment, is locked. I have reason to be annoyed, for both the members "Rinne" and "Dealer Umbra" denied that this piece was mine, claiming I did not have the intelligence needed to compose such work. Alas, they are not to be blamed, for I did post as an image, and this is the clear mark of a plagiarist, a person whom steals work and claims it as their own.

However, I feel pleased from their comments, as Rinne had hid a compliment within his post. He stated that the grammar and spelling was perfect. I thank you, Rinne, as I worked hard to ensure that it was so.

There was a reason behind me posting it as an image, that reason being presentation. Some call me a perfectionist, and who am I to contradict them. I constantly find myself straightening books on the bookshelf in my room, which of course is a trait of perfectionism. Nonetheless, I am not ashamed of my perfectionist ways, nor will I ever change them.

Now I feel in the mood to create another chapter. It is 2:54pm, which gives me just over an hour, then I must leave for reasons I do not wish to share through the internet.

Forgive me, but I have forgotten something. I am not usually one to forget, however some rather... unexpected things have happened today, and perhaps I feel a little shaken from them. What I forgot to tell you is the story behind "Guyver's Last War". The tale is wrote from a slave at the Guyver mansion. He is in court, giving a speech about Mr. Cornelius Guyver, a rich, stubborn man who was murdered. At times he pays tribute, at times he reveals a much more darker side to him. Hopefully, you shall enjoy my work. I rest my trust on you, Rinne, to comment first.

(First Chapter: http://forum.yugiohcardmaker.net/thread-131603.html)

I apologise it is not as long as I would have hoped it to be.

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[align=center]Guyver's Last War

Such happiness was shortlived, however.

You can never hide something from a man in his own house, especially in the house of Guyver. True, his house was large, however Master Guyver sensed that I had done something wrong the moment he set eyes on me. I had burnt Rhames' letter in the fire, and I had hid the money in a mattress my room.

May I just use this moment to explain my room, if you could call it that. I would much rather call it a "space", for all it was was a mattress in a hallway. I dared not complain to Master Guyver however. The older slaves in the household talked of a rather arrogant slave who demanded a better room. Apparently, Master Guyver threw this young boy out of the window, killing him. Of course, looking back on it, it was just a slaves tale, however back then I was much younger, and much more gullible. I never complained about my hard, cold mattress.

As I entered the Master's quarters to serve the evening tea, I saw him look at me. Those eyes, judge. They attracted the women towards him, and repelled the men away. Never will I forget that stare he gave me, with those piercing green eyes. I felt naked when he did so. I quickly served the tea to him and the mistress, and darted out of the room. However, not quick enough.

He called me into the room. I couldn't run from him, the other servants would only catch me, hoping for a reward. I slowly stepped back into the room. Now he was snarling at me, glimpsing his perfect teeth. I was confused as whether to smile as well. Then, he took something out of his jacket pocket, and let it drop to the carpet. I knew exactly what it was, only a few days ago it had brought me happiness. Now, I would pay the price for it. There was Rhames' winnings. His snarl had faded, and I could hear him exhale heavily. He questioned me where I got it from. I said nothing, staring at the money on the floor. Then, he picked it up and walked to me. When he had, he smacked me across the face with the thick wad of money. The pain was excruciating, and soon I was screaming, begging him not to do it again. The mistress stared at me, shocked. But she had no intention of defending me, she merely sat where she was, watching.

He waved his hand briskly, signalling for me to leave. I ran out of the room, into the servants lavatory. I looked into a mirror there. My cheek had turned a deep red, and had swollen greatly. Another servant was already in the bathroom, and did not looked shocked when he saw me in this state. He gave me a look of sympathy, before exiting the lavatory. I had no plans of leaving, however, and for the whole night, I sat in the lavatory weeping quietly, so not to wake anyone.

The next few days passed as if nothing had ever happened between the Master and I. I resumed my work, and he kept quiet. I was glad that it had passed without too much of a fuss, and worked particularly hard. It was a Wednesday, and therefore I had the errand of cleaning the Mistress' room. I knocked politely, duster in hand, awaiting the reply. When nobody answered, I opened the door, and caught sight of something that still haunts me to this very day.

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[bury the year]

Well, if this is your own, I apologize in advance. The only reason why I was so doubtful was that you posted it as a picture, which would prevent people from Googling the text, and that the spelling and grammar was top-notch, something I didn't see evident in your previous posts and title. However, I did Google this part, and nothing came up, so it seems like you did in fact write this by yourself. Also, your maturity in dealing with it impressed me. (Have an apology rep. ;D)

 

Now, onto the writing itself. The way that you introduce description into the story seems rather forced, which is compounded on by the fact that you're writing it in first-person. Also, your verb choice seems off at parts. ("Glimpsing?" Shouldn't it be "letting me glimpse?") Finally, although I don't have personal experience, the reaction to the money-slap seems exaggerated at best. It's just a lot of paper, and how much does paper honestly hurt? Otherwise, it's a bit short, but excellent in its current form. I await your next chapter.

[ѕнα∂σω]

Well' date=' if this is your own, I apologize in advance. The only reason why I was so doubtful was that you posted it as a picture, which would prevent people from Googling the text, and that the spelling and grammar was top-notch, something I didn't see evident in your previous posts and title. However, I did Google this part, and nothing came up, so it seems like you did in fact write this by yourself. Also, your maturity in dealing with it impressed me. (Have an apology rep. ;D)

 

Now, onto the writing itself. The way that you introduce description into the story seems rather forced, which is compounded on by the fact that you're writing it in first-person. Also, your verb choice seems off at parts. ("Glimpsing?" Shouldn't it be "letting me glimpse?") Finally, although I don't have personal experience, the reaction to the money-slap seems exaggerated at best. It's just a lot of paper, and how much does paper honestly hurt? Otherwise, it's a bit short, but excellent in its current form. I await your next chapter.

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Rinne, my dear friend, I thank you for your in-depth review. Of course, I had to be somewhere, so I rushed this, and I apologise. One other issue I must point out is that it is unlikely you will see another chapter any time soon, as I am extremely busy with life's many problems. Nonetheless, I thank you for your time, Rinne, and I hope to write another chapter some time in the near future.