We seem to have a theme running on this page, don't we?
The girl undressing in front of Adel was twenty-one, beautiful, talented and would be dead in five minutes. He watched her now in the same fashion he had all week; his eyes grazed over her delicate movements, not in lust, but in study. The general public called it stalking, but in his profession, it was considered reconnaissance.
Not bad, though I wonder if it would have more punch if you put in the use of binoculars or something, to add some extra weight to that last line (which I like, FWIW). As it starts, I'm thinking they're lovers and in the same room. The third sentence comes as too much of a surprise to me.
It had been 2,920 days since Boy 1124562 had been animated. The scrolling sign posted outside of his cube counted each day of his life along with the others in his pod, showing statistics of weight and height almost identical to one another. Only 35 of those days had been spent here at the Career Aptitude Testing Compound.
This doesn't quite work for me because I'm immediately trying to convert the 2,920 days into how many years/months and distracted from what else you have to say. And then I'm wondering if 8ish (am I right?) is old enough to be doing any kind of career aptitude testing.
The mother held a child in one hand, and a knife in the other.
Her body ached as she ran, her legs already sore from the unborn child living within her. Her stomach was large enough to warrant walking only, but she had to protect herself, and her children, unborn and otherwise.
Sorry, but I got confused by your first sentence and it didn't get any better. Maybe it's because I'm literal, but--how big is her hand that she can hold a child in it? Or is the child Thumblina?
I can see you're trying to dramatize the danger they're in, but you might want to rethink how you're doing it.
Like most births, Abigail’s entry into the world was an uncomfortable and prolonged affair. What separated hers from those whose narration does not include such details, was the duration of delivery; a labour whose beginnings preceded conception by a span of months.
OK, that last sentence would keep me reading.
I stumbled down the heavily stained carpeted stairs to rejoin the party, the hip-hop music attacking my ears mercilessly as I waded through the multitude of fraternity brothers and sisters. I scanned the crowded room for someone I recognized but all I found were drunken polo shirts and jeans standing around makeshift tables playing beer pong. What I was doing there, where were my balls, who took them and when?
You have a nice voice in this little bit, though I found the last sentence a bit awkward. Even with that, I'd probably still read a bit more.
[FONT="]Chi was straining, pushing with everything she had. It felt like she was about to be ripped in two. Beside her, three nurse-maids washed the sweat from her forehead, held her hand and waited for the big arrival[/FONT]
Sorry, I have to ask--have you ever had a baby? It really reads like a default that someone who's never experienced it writes. I've had two kids (no drugs) and that's so totally not how it felt. What you have alienates me as a reader, sorry.
(If you really want to know what it feels like to have a baby, it feels like trying to poop a watermelon. Seriously.)
And how big is her forehead that it takes three people to wipe the sweat from it?
