Alright I'm going to post the first chapter here to see if you like it, and I'm going to also post my blog if you want to read the rest of it (only three chapters online right now, more to come every week)



http://www.beeinasylum.blogspot.com



Book:Bee in Asylum



A little girl sat in her cell waiting to die. She had been waiting to die for a very, very long time.



The cell she sat in was very modest containing nothing more than a toilet. She slept her nights on the cold floor with nothing more than a tattered pink dress to keep her warm at night.



The little girl looked no older than any other fifteen year old girl one would see, but she had seen more than any other fifteen year old girl would and ever will. The little girl had experienced almost every horrible thing that could happen to a little girl in a very short amount of time. The sad part being that she herself had never known anything other than this dark foreboding place since before she can remember.



There was a single door stopping her from leaving this terrible place. The door was made of cement and hung on rusted hinges that had seen many a decade. Though time itself had not weakened the door enough for this little girl to escape. There was no light coming into the room except for the very small window on the old cement door, which was barred with old rusted rods, which flaked off rust when ever one would touch them.



As stated before, the little girl had been in this institution for as long as she could remember. She could not recall anything before this point in her life. She even tried to forget everything before now. The memories of this place chilled her to the bone more than any cold draft at night could.



She stood up and walked to the very small window in the door and peered outside. The hallway was no different than inside the cell. The corridor smelled of stagnant water and was filled with the screams of the other maddened inmates. A single light bulb shown out in the hallway barely casting its light on the little girl’s face.



The little girl had to be on her tip toes in order to look out the window. She constantly had to bat her coal black hair out of her eyes, as her hair fell down to her waist. She grabbed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail and tied it off with her pink ribbon, one of the few things the doctors let her keep in the cell with her.



She wished there was something more to look at besides the opposite wall from the window, but she would take this any day than to be shut up in a cold, dark, cell with no light coming in whatsoever. She had been sent to this cell as a reward for good behavior, if one could say this was a reward. Her previous cell had been the one I had just described, as being empty and desolate of any kind of enjoyment. This cell was a huge leap in comfort from the last one.

Her slender ghost white arm reached out through the window and felt the front of the door. She felt the small letter “B” that was synonymous with her name. The letter “B” on the front of the door was one letter that described her entire life. Her past, her future, her name, her dreams, her fears, all could be summed up with one letter. Everything was “B” and everything will always be “B”.



Bee pulled her arm into the cell quickly when she heard the tapping of footsteps coming down the corridor. She backed up into the furthest part of the cell and waited. She hoped they were coming for “A” this time or “C”, but it had been about a week since her last check-up and more than likely her ticket was up.



A large metal key grinded it’s way into the rusty keyhole and turned with a loud terrifying clack. The door opened slowly sending rust falling to the floor and a man stepped into the room.

The man had on a pair of spectacles and a white lab coat. The man was of medium build and there was an aura of cleanliness and sterility about him. He contrasted greatly with his surroundings.



He smiled a large smile at Bee. His smile, however, fitted in with the cell. Crooked, yellowed, and broken teeth lined his mouth. Bee had grown to hate that smile.

“How are we today Bee?” said the man. The tone in his voice was that of a doctor who was doing the annual family check-up. Bee knew this was not going to be an average check-up.



“Good, Doctor” replied Bee, she bowed her head trying to focus on his shoes rather than his unnerving face.



“Good, good” he paused “are we ready for your check-up?”

Bee just sat there. Ready or not she would have to go, and she preferred to give them as much trouble as she could to make this difficult for both of them.



The doctor stood by the door patiently, still smiling. Two other doctors came in through the door and stood next to the first. However, these doctors did not have a cleanly look about them. They were huge, hunched over and resembled more of henchman than doctors, which one could call them, for they did no doctor services. They had large jaws and had dried blood splattered all over their white jumpsuits.



“Bee, if you want to make this difficult, just say so, Mr. Dee and Mr. Dum will be more than happy to hear it.”



Bee continued to just sit in the corner, ignoring everything the doctor said.

“What now Dr. Hearts?” grunted Mr. Dum.



“I think Miss Bee needs some help getting up. Mr. Dee….Mr. Dum if you wouldn’t mind helping her.”



Both of the behemoths walked toward Bee. Bee crawled quickly to the other side of the cell grabbed hold of the toilet. Mr. Dum grabbed Bee by the leg and pulled her legs toward him. She kicked out at him and hit him squarely in the jaw. He lashed out his right hand and smacked her in her face. Bee thought her eye was going to explode from the blow. Mr. Dee then pulled her to her feet and swung her over his shoulder. She kicked and screamed and tried scratching out Mr. Dee’s face but that only rewarded her with another slap to her face. Bee gave up and started to cry as the big Behemoths carried her out of the room into the hallway filled with the mad laughter, shortly followed by Dr. Hearts.



This however, would turn into a good day for Bee…at least for a while.



* * *

Bee strained against the straps holding her down but it was no use, she could not move. The behemoths had dragged her into the white light room. Bee could not describe this room to anyone for the only part of the room she had ever seen was the top of it. Every time she was brought here she was quickly strapped down to a cold metal table facing up so all she saw was a giant bright light.



At first all she saw was the giant light coming from above, which was the least frightening thing in here. It was what blocked the light that frightened her.



She could hear the other people in the room, doctors mostly, cleaning their utensils and washing their hands. Someone was setting instruments to the left of her on a metal tray. The scraping sound of metal tools on a metal plate made Bee cringe. The sound of zippers or a teacher scratching the chalkboard would make most people shudder. However, this sound would make Bee shake with panic and fury.



A face walked by in front of Bee. She could not make out who it was, most likely an assistant. She strained her neck against the head strap on her forehead and saw Mr. Dee and Mr. Dum standing the corner, ready for any problems. Mr. Dum had his dumb ape expression on his face.

“So Mr. Dum isn’t just a clever name after all,” thought Bee.



Bee had to keep her sense of humor; it was the only thing in this insane asylum that was keeping her sane. The doctors had told her that she was 100% mad, but she didn’t believe them. They had told her that they were going to cure her, but how does one cure something that isn’t sick?



“What disease do I have?” Bee had asked them one day.



“You don’t have a disease my dear, your brain is just broken,” replied Dr. Hearts.



“How do you know my brain is broken?”



“We’re doctors Bee, we know these things. We wouldn’t be good doctors now if we couldn’t tell if people’s brains were broken now would we?”



“Can you fix it?”



“We’ll try as hard as we can Bee.”



That’s when the doctor took out the foot powered drill and drilled it into Bee’s forehead.

This was the earliest memory Bee had of the place. Before that point there was no memory, of who she was, who her family was, even her name. The doctors called it amnesia and said it would fade in time and she would regain her memory. That was a long, long time ago. Not one memory had come back to her in that time.



Another person moved to her left and Bee snapped out of her daydream focusing on the problem at hand. They were just about ready to begin.



She saw Dr. Hearts walk by and put on a pair of brown leather gloves. His “operating” gloves as he called them. They helped to keep Bee healthy, or so he told her.



The big light above Bee flickered and dimmed and a scream was heard from down the hall, a mournful frightening scream. The light flickered again and the man screamed louder. This continued for about a minute and Bee heard Dr. Hearts say to a nurse.



“Could you tell the Therapy Department to hold off on the therapy for one hour because we’re giving Bee her check-up?”



“Right away, Doctor,” and the nurses soft footsteps disappeared down the hall.

The lights stopped flickering but the man’s moaning continued. After a while it stopped altogether…at least for an hour.



“Alright, let’s get things started,” said Dr. Hearts. “Miss Ryan can you hear me, alright?”

“Loud and clear sir,” replied Miss Ryan, her fingers flying over her typewriter’s keys in a fury recording everything Dr. Hearts said.



“Excellent, ‘The date is May 28th, 1926. Our patient is Codenamed: Bee. We will begin with the mandatory healing tests.’”



Three assistants stood over Bee with Dr. Hearts and looked over her. She could not tell who the three assistants were because of the brown leather masks covering their mouths and noses. She didn’t want to see the rest of them though, since their apish eyebrows and brain-dead eyes were more than enough to get the picture of what the rest of them would look like.

One of the assistants picked up the bottom of her dress and pulled it over her head exposing her snow white tummy and underwear.



Bee hated this part, not because of the pain, but because she couldn’t see when the pain was going to come.



She heard the scrape of metal on metal as Dr. Hearts picked up an instrument from the tray, and Bee waited…and waited…and waited.



Bee jumped and writhed as the instrument plunged into her soft abdomen tearing away at her skin. This time the instrument was larger than usual. She felt blood running down her side in a torrent pooling on the floor. The assistants could be heard scurrying around the floor mopping it up with damp towels.



As soon as the pain had been there though, it was gone and Bee lay back with a sigh of relief, glad to have this part over with.



“Codenamed: Bee has been punctured with 1 inch scalpel and has healed wound in 3.5 seconds,” said Dr. Hearts to the dictator. The dictator typed away on her keyboard recording everything the Doctor said.



This was something that Bee could not explain. Bee had sort of a super power, if you will. Something no one else she knew had. Not the patients, the doctors, no one. No matter how severe the damage or injury, Bee could heal herself unwillingly in a matter of seconds, if the damage was extremely severe and life threatening, a minute tops. This of course was her curse and gift. The doctors wanted to find out how she healed so fast, so in order to find out, they had to hurt her, and they hurt her badly at times. Bee hoped this time wouldn’t be that way.

The assistants mopped up the rest of her blood from her body and wiped her clean. The doctor continued.



“Alright, now that we have performed the preliminary test, let’s begin with the new experiments.”



A new sound appeared. It was something Bee had never heard before. It squeaked immensely and rattled and was very loud. It emitted a terrible smell and she could smell smoke filling the room. She wished she could see what it was but her dress was still covering her face. Somehow she thought it didn’t really matter what it was…it was going to hurt.

Sweetcheeks wrote:

Alright I'm going to post the first chapter here to see if you like it, and I'm going to also post my blog if you want to read the rest of it (only three chapters online right now, more to come every week)



http://www.beeinasylum.blogspot.com



Book:Bee in Asylum



A little girl sat in her cell waiting to die. She had been waiting to die for a very, very long time.



Passive voice. Read Strunk and White. "had been" is the worst use of the passive "to be" verb because not only is it passive it's history: Swain. Rewrite actively. Who is seeing all this? The writer so it's a tell, not a show. Show, don't tell. A possible rewrite: "Looking at her sparse surroundings, Bee thought of one thing, and one thing only -- to die. It consumed her days for as long as she could remember. Day into night, night into day. The concrete floor never warmed, even when midday sunlight poured through the bars above her head, and at night, with only her torn pink dress, she shivered uncontrollably until sleep finally overtook the fatigue that formed dark circles around her eyes. Sometimes she propped herself against the wall, leaning her frail body against the toilet, but most nights she curled up in the corner where she could see the moon watching her from the tiny window on the wall." Anyways, this is just an example. I'm sure it can be better but that's something to work on here.



The cell she sat in was very modest containing nothing more than a toilet. She slept her nights on the cold floor with nothing more than a tattered pink dress to keep her warm at night.



The little girl looked no older than any other fifteen year old girl one would see, but she had seen more than any other fifteen year old girl would and ever will. The little girl had experienced almost every horrible thing that could happen to a little girl in a very short amount of time. The sad part being that she herself had never known anything other than this dark foreboding place since before she can remember.



There was a single door stopping her from leaving this terrible place. The door was made of cement and hung on rusted hinges that had seen many a decade. Though time itself had not weakened the door enough for this little girl to escape. There was no light coming into the room except for the very small window on the old cement door, which was barred with old rusted rods, which flaked off rust when ever one would touch them.



As stated before, the little girl had been in this institution for as long as she could remember. She could not recall anything before this point in her life. She even tried to forget everything before now. The memories of this place chilled her to the bone more than any cold draft at night could.



She stood up and walked to the very small window in the door and peered outside. The hallway was no different than inside the cell. The corridor smelled of stagnant water and was filled with the screams of the other maddened inmates. A single light bulb shown out in the hallway barely casting its light on the little girl’s face.



The little girl had to be on her tip toes in order to look out the window. She constantly had to bat her coal black hair out of her eyes, as her hair fell down to her waist. She grabbed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail and tied it off with her pink ribbon, one of the few things the doctors let her keep in the cell with her.



She wished there was something more to look at besides the opposite wall from the window, but she would take this any day than to be shut up in a cold, dark, cell with no light coming in whatsoever. She had been sent to this cell as a reward for good behavior, if one could say this was a reward. Her previous cell had been the one I had just described, as being empty and desolate of any kind of enjoyment. This cell was a huge leap in comfort from the last one.

Her slender ghost white arm reached out through the window and felt the front of the door. She felt the small letter “B” that was synonymous with her name. The letter “B” on the front of the door was one letter that described her entire life. Her past, her future, her name, her dreams, her fears, all could be summed up with one letter. Everything was “B” and everything will always be “B”.



Bee pulled her arm into the cell quickly when she heard the tapping of footsteps coming down the corridor. She backed up into the furthest part of the cell and waited. She hoped they were coming for “A” this time or “C”, but it had been about a week since her last check-up and more than likely her ticket was up.



A large metal key grinded it’s way into the rusty keyhole and turned with a loud terrifying clack. The door opened slowly sending rust falling to the floor and a man stepped into the room.

The man had on a pair of spectacles and a white lab coat. The man was of medium build and there was an aura of cleanliness and sterility about him. He contrasted greatly with his surroundings.



He smiled a large smile at Bee. His smile, however, fitted in with the cell. Crooked, yellowed, and broken teeth lined his mouth. Bee had grown to hate that smile.

“How are we today Bee?” said the man. The tone in his voice was that of a doctor who was doing the annual family check-up. Bee knew this was not going to be an average check-up.



“Good, Doctor” replied Bee, she bowed her head trying to focus on his shoes rather than his unnerving face.



“Good, good” he paused “are we ready for your check-up?”

Bee just sat there. Ready or not she would have to go, and she preferred to give them as much trouble as she could to make this difficult for both of them.



The doctor stood by the door patiently, still smiling. Two other doctors came in through the door and stood next to the first. However, these doctors did not have a cleanly look about them. They were huge, hunched over and resembled more of henchman than doctors, which one could call them, for they did no doctor services. They had large jaws and had dried blood splattered all over their white jumpsuits.



“Bee, if you want to make this difficult, just say so, Mr. Dee and Mr. Dum will be more than happy to hear it.”



Bee continued to just sit in the corner, ignoring everything the doctor said.

“What now Dr. Hearts?” grunted Mr. Dum.



“I think Miss Bee needs some help getting up. Mr. Dee….Mr. Dum if you wouldn’t mind helping her.”



Both of the behemoths walked toward Bee. Bee crawled quickly to the other side of the cell grabbed hold of the toilet. Mr. Dum grabbed Bee by the leg and pulled her legs toward him. She kicked out at him and hit him squarely in the jaw. He lashed out his right hand and smacked her in her face. Bee thought her eye was going to explode from the blow. Mr. Dee then pulled her to her feet and swung her over his shoulder. She kicked and screamed and tried scratching out Mr. Dee’s face but that only rewarded her with another slap to her face. Bee gave up and started to cry as the big Behemoths carried her out of the room into the hallway filled with the mad laughter, shortly followed by Dr. Hearts.



This however, would turn into a good day for Bee…at least for a while.



* * *

Bee strained against the straps holding her down but it was no use, she could not move. The behemoths had dragged her into the white light room. Bee could not describe this room to anyone for the only part of the room she had ever seen was the top of it. Every time she was brought here she was quickly strapped down to a cold metal table facing up so all she saw was a giant bright light.



At first all she saw was the giant light coming from above, which was the least frightening thing in here. It was what blocked the light that frightened her.



She could hear the other people in the room, doctors mostly, cleaning their utensils and washing their hands. Someone was setting instruments to the left of her on a metal tray. The scraping sound of metal tools on a metal plate made Bee cringe. The sound of zippers or a teacher scratching the chalkboard would make most people shudder. However, this sound would make Bee shake with panic and fury.



A face walked by in front of Bee. She could not make out who it was, most likely an assistant. She strained her neck against the head strap on her forehead and saw Mr. Dee and Mr. Dum standing the corner, ready for any problems. Mr. Dum had his dumb ape expression on his face.

“So Mr. Dum isn’t just a clever name after all, ” thought Bee.



Bee had to keep her sense of humor; it was the only thing in this insane asylum that was keeping her sane. The doctors had told her that she was 100% mad, but she didn’t believe them. They had told her that they were going to cure her, but how does one cure something that isn’t sick?



“What disease do I have?” Bee had asked them one day.



“You don’t have a disease my dear, your brain is just broken, ” replied Dr. Hearts.



“How do you know my brain is broken?”



“We’re doctors Bee, we know these things. We wouldn’t be good doctors now if we couldn’t tell if people’s brains were broken now would we?”



“Can you fix it?”



“We’ll try as hard as we can Bee.”



That’s when the doctor took out the foot powered drill and drilled it into Bee’s forehead.

This was the earliest memory Bee had of the place. Before that point there was no memory, of who she was, who her family was, even her name. The doctors called it amnesia and said it would fade in time and she would regain her memory. That was a long, long time ago. Not one memory had come back to her in that time.



Another person moved to her left and Bee snapped out of her daydream focusing on the problem at hand. They were just about ready to begin.



She saw Dr. Hearts walk by and put on a pair of brown leather gloves. His “operating” gloves as he called them. They helped to keep Bee healthy, or so he told her.



The big light above Bee flickered and dimmed and a scream was heard from down the hall, a mournful frightening scream. The light flickered again and the man screamed louder. This continued for about a minute and Bee heard Dr. Hearts say to a nurse.



“Could you tell the Therapy Department to hold off on the therapy for one hour because we’re giving Bee her check-up?”



“Right away, Doctor, ” and the nurses soft footsteps disappeared down the hall.

The lights stopped flickering but the man’s moaning continued. After a while it stopped altogether…at least for an hour.



“Alright, let’s get things started, ” said Dr. Hearts. “Miss Ryan can you hear me, alright?”

“Loud and clear sir, ” replied Miss Ryan, her fingers flying over her typewriter’s keys in a fury recording everything Dr. Hearts said.



“Excellent, ‘The date is May 28th, 1926. Our patient is Codenamed: Bee. We will begin with the mandatory healing tests.’”



Three assistants stood over Bee with Dr. Hearts and looked over her. She could not tell who the three assistants were because of the brown leather masks covering their mouths and noses. She didn’t want to see the rest of them though, since their apish eyebrows and brain-dead eyes were more than enough to get the picture of what the rest of them would look like.

One of the assistants picked up the bottom of her dress and pulled it over her head exposing her snow white tummy and underwear.



Bee hated this part, not because of the pain, but because she couldn’t see when the pain was going to come.



She heard the scrape of metal on metal as Dr. Hearts picked up an instrument from the tray, and Bee waited…and waited…and waited.



Bee jumped and writhed as the instrument plunged into her soft abdomen tearing away at her skin. This time the instrument was larger than usual. She felt blood running down her side in a torrent pooling on the floor. The assistants could be heard scurrying around the floor mopping it up with damp towels.



As soon as the pain had been there though, it was gone and Bee lay back with a sigh of relief, glad to have this part over with.



“Codenamed: Bee has been punctured with 1 inch scalpel and has healed wound in 3.5 seconds, ” said Dr. Hearts to the dictator. The dictator typed away on her keyboard recording everything the Doctor said.



This was something that Bee could not explain. Bee had sort of a super power, if you will. Something no one else she knew had. Not the patients, the doctors, no one. No matter how severe the damage or injury, Bee could heal herself unwillingly in a matter of seconds, if the damage was extremely severe and life threatening, a minute tops. This of course was her curse and gift. The doctors wanted to find out how she healed so fast, so in order to find out, they had to hurt her, and they hurt her badly at times. Bee hoped this time wouldn’t be that way.

The assistants mopped up the rest of her blood from her body and wiped her clean. The doctor continued.



“Alright, now that we have performed the preliminary test, let’s begin with the new experiments.”



A new sound appeared. It was something Bee had never heard before. It squeaked immensely and rattled and was very loud. It emitted a terrible smell and she could smell smoke filling the room. She wished she could see what it was but her dress was still covering her face. Somehow she thought it didn’t really matter what it was…it was going to hurt.

Actually that was pretty good. I guess I could go over it a few more times and spice it up more. This is only a rough draft, not a final version. Thanks for the input.

Sweetcheeks wrote:

Actually that was pretty good. I guess I could go over it a few more times and spice it up more. This is only a rough draft, not a final version. Thanks for the input.

No prob. Buy the Bible -- Strunk and White, The Elements of Style. There are excellent books of fiction writing:



Swain: The Techniques of the Selling Writer

Burroway: Writing Fiction

Gardner: The Art of Fiction Writing

King: On Writing

etc.



The most important is active voice. Once you've mastered that you'll be ready to put this novel together.