The next stop is Croy

[Sanchez]

This is a short story I wrote on the train today. It really isn't very long and rough in a couple of parts so please critique. Thanks.

 

“The next stop is Croy”

“We can’t stop here, this is bat country” I joke to myself and continue to read Fear and Loathing.

“This is Croy”

Well at least it’s only a few stops now. The train jerks and continues on its journey and I continue along mine.

“The next stop is Croy”

Fucking trains, what are we spending on them these days?

“This is Croy”

I throw my book onto the table and watch the doors open for nobody. The sign outside says Croy. I guess the last stop was Brookbriggs. The doors close and the train accelerates again. God what a shithole. Lights litter the landscape. I can faintly make out council houses and some bare trees. I lean on my elbow and stare out into the darkness, the cabin is empty.

“The next stop is Croy”

I roll my eyes and laugh. Mountains roll by. The train grinds to a stop. Outside a sign reads Croy. The doors roll open.

“This is Croy”

Well fuck me. I must be half asleep. I shuffle in my seat, the train gets on its way. A faint chuckle escapes my lips; At this rate I’ll never get home. A woman enters the cabin and sits by the doors. I estimate she’s 30 years old, good figure. Clearly returning from work; she’s dressed formally. I don’t speak to her, I wouldn’t trust myself in this state.

“The next stop is Croy”

I freeze, the woman gets ready to leave.

“This is Croy”

The doors slide open and she steps out. I dumbly stare as she walks along the platform, the doors seal shut. I watch until I lose sight of her. Still staring in her direction I hear a sudden piercing scream and then continued short bursts than ring in my ears until the train is hopefully well away from Croy.

“The next stop is Croy”

I already know this from the familiar bursts of screaming getting louder and closer.

“This is Croy”

The doors open and amplify the noise. I sprint to help but as I reach the doors they mercilessly slam shut. Palms resting against the door and breathing heavily, I watch the woman being violated by three men roll by. I walk to my seat, pick up my bag and throw on my jacket.

“The next stop is Larbert”

Fuck this train, I wait by the door anxiously. No screaming. Good sign. The station rolls into view. The coast is clear. I’m out of the train before the doors finish opening.

“This is Croy”

The doors shut.

[killthenet]

Interesting concept. I think you could have something really good once you've done some more work on it.

[jayseven]

I agree - I like the concept a lot. Back in brighton, the train says "The next station is portslade... We are now approaching portslade... This is portslade" all in about two minutes.

 

The story is contained in itself; but the main problems for me aare...

- Background. You have an 'aim' of getting to some unnamed place a few stops away, but no suggestion of where he's come from. Perhaps he's not come from anywhere - perhaps he's never getting anywhere... But the mention of another station, and the character's fairly upbeat nature at the beginning suggests this is an anomalous situation.

 

For some sort of "off-screen" starting point, maybe some suggestions of some array of paraphenalia to do with something the character's been doing - bagful of unwrapped presents, or a football scarf, or a briefcase - or a new set of stitches on an arm... or something a bit more odd, like a massive stack of books to do with perhaps drugs (or paranoia, or moebus loops, as I think they're called - Phillip K dick, Chuck Palahniuk, Albert Camus, Kafka, and so on) or some mysterious object or something. Do you get me? Some sense of a past will help solidify the craziness of the time loop.

 

- Description of Croy. Shithole and council estates certainly depict a nasty place, but perhaps more sensual, gritty descriptions. Trains wait at platforms for at least 40 seconds, which is a long time to gaze at a landscape. No need to rush it - if anything, the beginning of the story should be slow, spread out. Once the loops begin then the pace can be whipped up

 

- The woman. A story such as this demands each significant object, or in this case person, to be rich and worthy of their role as a symbol. She gets molested, so she wants to represent something you think is being molested in the physical world that this is occuring - maybe you note she keeps looking at a watch. Maybe she can't stop smiling. Some sort of reality perception being molested? Also, the character's reaction to the nose appears to be calmly walking to his seat. The screams are "familiar" already, too, which suggests passivity.

 

I'm sorry if I get too critical, I really just want to help I like how he says he doesn't trust himself in his state, and I want to know more about his state; I want there to be something besides the Croy thing, because if it was me in that situation, talking to someone else whom I presume is also experiencing the loop would be the first thing I'd do. Again, perhaps alienating her, estranging her would support the silence.

 

I Like how the giggle escapes from his lips. There's this thing called deixis, which is about how the narrator positions things; for example, saying "i moved my arm" is different to "my arm itched my face", as it reduces control. I would recommend perhaps shifting the control from "my arm", "my seat", to "the seat", "my jacket urges me to put it on me" and stuff... "I see council flats" is different to "council flats loom into my eyeline".... You wrote "lights litter the landscape" which gives the lights 'power' (compared to "the landscape is littered with lights") which works a treat... and the ending is just ace A real eerie, and certainly disturbing story.

 

... Again, I apologise if I'm getting silly with this. It's early/late and I tend to focus severely on someone's creative pieces and blabber non-stop. If i'm being a ****, just tell me! >_<

[Sanchez]

EDIT: Here's my updated story, please read this before reading my replies to your comments at the bottom.

 

The next stop is Croy”

“We can’t stop here, this is bat country” I joke to myself and continue to read Fear and Loathing.

“This is Croy”

Well at least it’s only a few stops now, civilization, that is. The train jerks and continues on its journey.

“The next stop is Croy”

Fucking trains, what are we spending on them these days?

“This is Croy”

I throw my book onto the table and watch the doors open for nobody. The sign outside says Croy. I guess the last stop was Brookbriggs. God what a shithole. Croy can just be seen in the final stages of dusk, I can faintly make out council houses and some bare trees. An old park with rusted swings centers the city, with no kids in sight. Smog clouds over the faintly lit pubs. The doors close and the train accelerates again. I lean on my elbow and stare out into the city, uninviting lights begin to flicker on in the streets mixing grimly with the deteriorating houses and toppled bins.

“The next stop is Croy”

I roll my eyes and laugh. Mountains roll by now, the peaks do at least, highlighted by whatever light dares to venture over. The train grinds to a stop. Outside a sign reads Croy. The doors roll open.

“This is Croy”

Well fuck me. I must be half asleep. I turn over in my seat and lean my head back, I move my rucksack down onto the floor. The train gets on its way. A faint chuckle escapes my lips; At this rate I’ll never get home. A woman enters the cabin and sits by the doors. I estimate she’s 30 years old, good figure. Clearly returning from work; she’s dressed formally. I shout out to her, if your stop is Croy I think you just missed it. I smile but she doesn’t turn round.

Fine then.

“The next stop is Croy”

I freeze, god, she must think I’m and idiot. The woman gets ready to leave.

“This is Croy”

The doors slide open and she steps out, her suitcase smacks the ground and she pulls it down the platform, she walks elegantly. I watch dumbly as the doors seal shut and the train advances. I lose sight of the platform and still staring in her direction I hear sudden piercing screams. I slam my face against the window and flinch at the pain, pointless, the station is already out of sight. I rub my cheek.

“The next stop is Croy”

I already know this from the screams increasing in volume.

“This is Croy”

The doors open and amplify the noise. I scramble over my seat and to help and trip over my rucksack. My forehead meets the opposite table with a satisfying thump. As I re-align for the floor I thought about how comical this must be for God. The thin, coarse carpet provided a moment of rest. Blood rippled down my face, creating a nice imprint on the carpet. My legacy would go down on for decades in this ridiculous route because of this stupid city. The screams overwhelmed my head again. My legs shook violently as I got up, I forced them into my submission again. I limped up to the doors again, pitilessly closing in front of me. Palms resting against the door and breathing heavily, I watch the woman violated by three men roll by.

I surrender to my seat. Looking in my bag I pull out a damp towel which cleans off most of my face. The towel was white, now it can be used in bull fights. I throw it against the window, it bounces and lumps on the table. Not my problem now.

“The next stop is Larbert”

Fuck this. Larbert isn’t the be all and end all of places to live but I’ll take it. Blood trickles into my eyes again, so I grab a shirt from my rucksack and wrap it round my head like some sort of martial art master. I wish. The rucksack weighs me down. The wall stops me from falling. No screaming. Good sign. The station rolls into view. The coast is clear. I’m out of the train before the doors finish opening.

“This is Croy”

The doors shut.

 

 

I agree - I like the concept a lot. Back in brighton, the train says "The next station is portslade... We are now approaching portslade... This is portslade" all in about two minutes.

 

The story is contained in itself; but the main problems for me aare...

- Background. You have an 'aim' of getting to some unnamed place a few stops away, but no suggestion of where he's come from. Perhaps he's not come from anywhere - perhaps he's never getting anywhere... But the mention of another station, and the character's fairly upbeat nature at the beginning suggests this is an anomalous situation.

Yeah, that's definitely a problem. I'm probably going to flesh this out now and post an updated version. I'll give him a story.

 

For some sort of "off-screen" starting point, maybe some suggestions of some array of paraphenalia to do with something the character's been doing - bagful of unwrapped presents, or a football scarf, or a briefcase - or a new set of stitches on an arm... or something a bit more odd, like a massive stack of books to do with perhaps drugs (or paranoia, or moebus loops, as I think they're called - Phillip K dick, Chuck Palahniuk, Albert Camus, Kafka, and so on) or some mysterious object or something. Do you get me? Some sense of a past will help solidify the craziness of the time loop.

The whole reason I wrote this story was because on the train back from the EITS gig the voice said "The next stop is Croy" twice, and then I joked with my friend about being stuck in a loop where the only destination is croy. I've never been to Croy or know anything about it but the name gives me connotations of a pretty low class, gritty place. A theme that I started to develop was that Croy was a haunted place (like room 1408) and that it had him trapped but in the end it turns out that it was the train that was torturing him (by tricking him at the end). That's the main reason I didn't want to involve hallucinations or anything, I wanted this to be a real event for him.

Which by the way, it isn't. The woman doesn't exist and the ending is actually positive because he gets out of the train but he doesn't really know it yet.

 

FAKE EDIT: That's not very well set out, let's try again.

 

The character thinks that croy is the evil place (which I show by his hate for it) but it turns out the train is actually the one holding him hostage (revealed by tricking him at the end) so the ending is positive because he ends up in troy and outside of the spooky train.

 

I don't know if it shows at all but Palahniuk is a big influence for me and I tried to use his style in this story. I think in the end what I did was mix it with a more traditional style of story telling that didn't work so well.

- Description of Croy. Shithole and council estates certainly depict a nasty place, but perhaps more sensual, gritty descriptions. Trains wait at platforms for at least 40 seconds, which is a long time to gaze at a landscape. No need to rush it - if anything, the beginning of the story should be slow, spread out. Once the loops begin then the pace can be whipped up

Yeah, I think this is a good plan. At the start of the story the pace moves pretty quickly due to the repetition and starting the train pretty quickly. I think i'll insert some description of croy which seem to make it more eerie and villain like.

 

- The woman. A story such as this demands each significant object, or in this case person, to be rich and worthy of their role as a symbol. She gets molested, so she wants to represent something you think is being molested in the physical world that this is occuring - maybe you note she keeps looking at a watch. Maybe she can't stop smiling. Some sort of reality perception being molested? Also, the character's reaction to the nose appears to be calmly walking to his seat. The screams are "familiar" already, too, which suggests passivity.

Good idea, i'll do this.

 

I'm sorry if I get too critical, I really just want to help I like how he says he doesn't trust himself in his state, and I want to know more about his state; I want there to be something besides the Croy thing, because if it was me in that situation, talking to someone else whom I presume is also experiencing the loop would be the first thing I'd do. Again, perhaps alienating her, estranging her would support the silence.

I agree and I thought about talking to her but his problem was that he doesn't know how to approach her about this haunted station and in reality if he had tried speaking to her she would have ignored him (see above), which now that i think about it would have a pretty good effect.

 

I Like how the giggle escapes from his lips. There's this thing called deixis, which is about how the narrator positions things; for example, saying "i moved my arm" is different to "my arm itched my face", as it reduces control. I would recommend perhaps shifting the control from "my arm", "my seat", to "the seat", "my jacket urges me to put it on me" and stuff... "I see council flats" is different to "council flats loom into my eyeline".... You wrote "lights litter the landscape" which gives the lights 'power' (compared to "the landscape is littered with lights") which works a treat... and the ending is just ace A real eerie, and certainly disturbing story.

 

... Again, I apologise if I'm getting silly with this. It's early/late and I tend to focus severely on someone's creative pieces and blabber non-stop. If i'm being a ****, just tell me! >_<

 

Not at all, I really appreciate it infact. I'm not a man who writes frequently, it's nice that someone is criticizing my work when I finally do. Usually i just think about it in my head until I forget.

[jayseven]

I definitely like the updated version of the story, and I like what you say about the train being the cause of the turmoil! Croy does sound haunting; reminds me of the Kryll bat-things from Gears of War, plus it's not a very nice-sounding word! Allusions to "cry" and rhythmic similaries to words like "destroy", and other words that start with "cr" tend to be weird - creak, croak, crack, cripple, crash... Of course these are subconscious ties and I didn't even notice these connotations 'til I thought about the word!

 

It's good that you're not afraid of editing your work; for a lot of people, myself included, short stories like this almost represent the moment I was writing them; how I felt, what was going through my mind, all the factors that made me choose the words I did, the order I did... But the fact is that nobody's ever going to fully get that moment, for it was yours alone to have, so you either have to be completely ambiguous with your meaning and accept all reactions, or work and rework the piece 'til the subtleties really get teh desired affect.

 

And the problem with being the author is that you'll never be able to read the piece as if it were the first time you read it ever. A really good technique to help see if things flow, or to measure pacing and to see if it's missing anything or has too much of something is simply to read it aloud, or even read it out to someone else. You'd be surprised what you might spot, or think of.

 

I love writing, and I love reading other's work, so if you ever have anything else then you really should post it! Only a couple of others have posted stories on here, it's always fun to read them.

[Guest bluey]

aaaahhhh i really like this! having spent a lot of my weekend on a train, it somehow feels more poignant :wink: kind of makes me want to try to visit croy though....just to check... i'm guessing that's not the desired effect? hehe.

do you have anymore writing?

[gARYgREATIE*]

deep. I love trains, but I hate them when I have to sit opposite kids eating smelly egg and tuna sandwiches on a hot day. Damn them to hell