Rip me to shreds!

[Portly_Penguin]

@Lumiere_Amie I don't think there's much I can say here that hasn't already been said and I agree with a lot of the points already made. This opening section does feel very exposition-heavy and the exposition doesn't necessarily fit with that opening scene of her in the museum. Why is she thinking all those things at the museum? What sparked those thoughts in the first place? If there was a connection there I might be a little invested.

Much like the others have said, she also isn't a likable character. There is nothing within the exposition or narrative that gives me reason to like her or to root for her as the story progresses. She just comes across as very spoiled and stuck-up, though it does set up the potential for a redemption arc which would be a good way of going about her character progression.

I feel like I just echoed what other people said there so sorry for that.

------------------------------

Guess I'll bite the bullet. This was something I started but, might not finish so I don't really care how mean you get with this. It's my usual style so the feedback would help across the board regardless of whether I write this specific story. Enjoy.

Having never been much of a camper, I left the directions to Jason who knew the area like the back of his hand. We scrambled over dirt tracks, jagged rocks, and through trees that blocked out most of the sunlight. The light breeze took away some of the heat, but by the time we reached the lake both of us were drenched in sweat.

I looked out over the lake, breathing in the crisp, clean air. Jason stretched his arms out behind him and tilted his head back to feel the sun on his face. After weeks stuck in classrooms studying for finals, it was a relief to be outside.

“Are we gonna stand here, or are we going swimming?” Jason grinned, pulling his shirt off and launching it onto a nearby rock. I tried not to stare at his chest. All those years of high school soccer had worked in his favor. “Like what you see, Aiden?” He raised an eyebrow with his fingers hooked around the top of his shorts.

“You are such a dick.” I took my shirt off and threw it at him.

“Hey, you like what you like. I’m flattered, really. You’re just going to have to try to keep your hands off me.”

Jason pulled off his cargo shorts and threw them over with his shirt, standing in front of me with nothing but his navy-blue underwear. My cock twitched in my shorts and I forced myself to look away. I’d been out as gay since I was twelve and had had a small crush on Jason since Sophomore year — not that he knew that. Jason was the only one I let make comments like that, anyone else would have been punched. Usually by him.

“God, you move slowly. Can’t blame you, you’ve got to take in the goods.”

 

[Erozetta]

I can't effectively cut this down to 250, it's roughly 300 words but gives enough context to set the scene, hopefully. It's a snippet from around the bottom of page 1 of the story.

“Motherfucker… if, and that is a big fucking if, I do this… you are going to tell me everything right now. None of this coy talking around it bullshit. What. Did. You. Do?”

He sighed and for a moment I thought he might do the right thing and change his mind. Tell his wife the truth, talk to his wife, sort their shit out. But, no. He dragged in a ragged breath and said, “I was posting personals ads, looking for girls in the 18-22 range… not for modeling. I wanted sex, was desperate for it, Gi.”

“Publicly?”

His non-committal grunt told me what I needed to know.

I laughed, then shook my head. “You DM that shit, genius. So, I guess end of the day you can't contact me anymore, right? Since I'm a manipulative and conniving bitch and all?”

Sad grunt.

“Yeah. Got it. Is she definitely going to contact me?”

“Probably.”

With perfect timing, my email dinged. I had wanted to meet his wife for so long. I had been hopeful of building a friendship openly with both of them early on, but he was a chickenshit who only actually admitted to having this longtime female friend when he needed to throw her under the bus to get out of a bind of his own making. Instead of over a luncheon or good movie, I met her with an email that bluntly said, ‘Is this the bitch smearing my husband's name online?’

My brow raised. Apparently I was. “Yeah, she just sent it. Alright, I've got this.”

“WAIT! What did she say?”

“Hi, is this Gina?” I'd send him the email chain later. But there was no need to push him further into a meltdown. “Just relax and let me do this.”

“Gina…”

“Stop. I will ask questions as needed. You don’t speak or I will do this fully my way, and you won’t enjoy my way, hun. So, sit there and shut up while I talk to your wife. K?”

Worried grunt.

Edit: I just realized two words were missing, heh.

 

[Devinter]

I can't effectively cut this down to 250, it's roughly 300 words but gives enough context to set the scene, hopefully. It's a snippet from around the bottom of page 1 of the story.

I get that you did it intentionally, but too many grunts for my liking. Otherwise, quite engaging. Would have preferred fewer grunts and more other, varied ways of displaying the emotions from the male character. A look described. A fidgety move. He's also very unlikable but I assume that's fully on purpose. I like how the dialogue drives the story forward in a way that feels quite natural though, and that only some of the details of what has transpired are being provided openly and the rest sprinkled between the lines.

 

[Erozetta]

I get that you did it intentionally, but too many grunts for my liking. Otherwise, quite engaging. Would have preferred fewer grunts and more other, varied ways of displaying the emotions from the male character. A look described. A fidgety move. He's also very unlikable but I assume that's fully on purpose. I like how the dialogue drives the story forward in a way that feels quite natural though, and that only some of the details of what has transpired are being provided openly and the rest sprinkled between the lines.

I was super pissed at him when I wrote this (like two weeks ago, lol) and grunts were all he was gonna get.

But, yeah, on revision I will probably give him a few more things to do, but movements won't work because they are on the phone during this conversation.

 

[Lumiere_Amie]

So based on the feedback, I created the exact character I intended!

 

[Devinter]

I was super pissed at him when I wrote this (like two weeks ago, lol) and grunts were all he was gonna get.

But, yeah, on revision I will probably give him a few more things to do, but movements won't work because they are on the phone during this conversation.

Understandable, although some movements can still make noise. Nervous tapping of the fingers on top of his desk. The creaking of his office chair as he rocks back and forth in an attempt to ground himself somewhat. Or maybe he's pacing back and forth. But I don't think including something along those lines is necessary; the grunts just seemed rather frequent for my liking.

So based on the feedback, I created the exact character I intended!

I am really glad to hear that. Making a character come to life in your own head is one thing, but conveying that image to your readers is something that I personally struggle with at times. You've had multiple fellow authors draw the same conclusion regarding Miranda which certainly seems to suggest you nailed it.

 

[Devinter]

Guess I'll bite the bullet. This was something I started but, might not finish so I don't really care how mean you get with this. It's my usual style so the feedback would help across the board regardless of whether I write this specific story. Enjoy.

The text you've written does quite a lot in few words. It sets the scenery, explains the relationship between the two characters, and highlights several of their personality traits - all whilst leading towards an action, with potential erotic undertones, taking place.

One of the characters does significantly more talking than the other though. Sometimes, that's not too unrealistic - perhaps Aiden is the quiet sort, whilst Jason is more outgoing. However, with only the two of them present, having Jason refer to the other character by name - "Like what you see, Aiden?" - feels very forced. I do this myself at times when I need to name a character to the reader, or to highlight who's speaking to who, but how often do we actually use our friend's names in casual conversation when it's not necessary? Rarely, I'd say. Just something to keep in mind if you do this often in your writing. Perhaps best to keep it to a minimum.

 

[Erozetta]

Understandable, although some movements can still make noise. Nervous tapping of the fingers on top of his desk. The creaking of his office chair as he rocks back and forth in an attempt to ground himself somewhat. Or maybe he's pacing back and forth. But I don't think including something along those lines is necessary; the grunts just seemed rather frequent for my liking.

Yoink.

Seriously, though, I didn't consider sounds for movement. Dunno why, it just didn't occur to me while writing this. Good call. Those are the only non-sexual grunts he makes in the story, though, lol.

 

[StillStunned]

It was another sexless Friday night and Miranda Douglas was wandering the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She could have been out with friends, probably should have been out with friends, but she wasn’t. She was tired of the hunt, regardless of whether she was the hunter or the hunted, and when she went out with them they always turned it into the hunt. For some reason, she could not get them to understand that she did not want another man, that she was happy with her life without one. Well, mostly happy.

It hadn’t always been that way, but her ex-husband Rick had put her off relationships. They had been great together. Rick worked in finance, she owned a private investigation firm, and New York was their playground. They were “living the high life” as her parents back in Iowa would say. A penthouse apartment, parties where they rubbed elbows with the New York elite, they were loving life. Everywhere they went, Rick was attentive and gracious, treating her as if she was a trophy wife. And the men flirted with her, they offered to take her away for long weekends in Paris, or Madrid, or wherever she wanted. It seemed every powerful man in New York was looking for a mistress, and a lot of them seemed to want Miranda. Their attention always gave her a rush, her heart would beat fast and she would feel flushed. She never took them seriously, but sometimes she’d think of the latest proposition as she touched herself at night.

The sex was good, but not great. Rick pleased her and brought her to orgasm, but he was not very imaginative or open to exploration of their sexuality, he always seemed preoccupied with something. Turns out that something had been money. She yearned for a man who would take her and use her for his pleasure. She wanted to be dominated, not in a BDSM context, but just thrown down on the bed and fucked like a whore. Rick was not capable of that, though she repeatedly hinted at her desire. One would think that with the number of empty rooms in the mansions they frequented that he would have fulfilled her desires.

Taking the exposition here as a feature and not a bug...

I can see a connection between wanting to be dominated and being tired of looking for a man: Miranda is passive. But I think the text would flow better if you moved the final section up: describe her being tired of hunting for men, then how she wants to be dominated, then explain how her husband couldn't satisfy her. Follow this by the description of their lives together.

I'd also chop up some of your sentences. Sometimes you have more information packed together than is necessary, or logical. This ties in with your paragraphs: I like to see a logical progression through sentences and paragraphs, like a camera panning across a scene. The more you keep your reader's mind moving forward, the easier it is to keep them reading.

 

[lovecraft68]

Something random from a work in progress, its longer than 250 words, but I couldn't whittle it down much more to still make sense. The "Duality" on display here is an interest of mine...because I'm weird.

“See that candle?” The priest pointed to the last one in the top row. “I light that for Melanie Carter. I light it every Tuesday because that’s the day we first met, and you taught me to believe in things beyond what I could see and touch. In a way, you restored my stagnant faith.”

“Glad I could help. Candles are lit for the dead, so you’re admitting she is.” Abigail's black painted lips curled into a smile. "A point for me?”

“No, for me. This represents a light that’s still somewhere within you. You keep denying it, so I keep her alive for you. Melanie never died, Abigail. A still heartbeat for a moment on a table is not death. Only one has ever truly risen from the dead.

“I believe Melanie being alive and well beneath that harsh exterior is what will enable you to survive. The merciless ultimately meet their end because they have nothing to temper that cruelty, and it will consume their life. However, those that care enough to risk themselves for others? They’re the ones that survive. A woman as outwardly hateful as Abigail would have never risked her life for four helpless girls."

"I enjoyed killing their captors. Abigail Lefey," she tapped her chest. "Does those things."

“Wrong, Melanie is the part of you that does that. The love she had in her heart that you think was wasted, resides within you. At times it shakes hands with that anger and uses it to help others that you would never let suffer the fate those animals planned for her. She is your ticket to redemption and why you only take the lives of those who would take others if allowed to."

Father Tomaso stepped to the side. “But if you are so certain she’s dead, then put it out.”

When she scowled, he pointed once more. “You can control fire. Go ahead and do it. Prove to me you truly think there’s nothing left of that girl.”

“This is ridiculous,”

“You’re supposed to be heartless. Snuff her out.”

Her ebony eyes narrowed, her will focused on the flame. So small, so fragile, so much like Melanie herself had been. Trying to shine, to be noticed, but continuously extinguished by cruelty. She could end the sad little flame with a mere thought but wouldn't doing so would make her as callous as everyone had been to Melanie during her sad life?

“Well?”

“I’ll let it burn.” Abigail faced him. “But only for you to keep your hope that she exists alive.”

Father Tomaso nodded solemnly. “Just for me.”

“Only for you.”

 

[Erozetta]

but wouldn't doing so would make her as callous as everyone had been to Melanie during her sad life?

Literally the only mistake I saw.

 

[lovecraft68]

Literally the only mistake I saw.

Damn it, there's always one. That's the unsure of the wording, changing it and not deleting I do it a lot grrr.

 

[Erozetta]

Damn it, there's always one. That's the unsure of the wording, changing it and not deleting I do it a lot grrr.

Usually happens to me when I change thought mid-sentence.

 

[Otto26]

My behavior when reading tends toward that of Bamagan, I'll generally skim over a passage like this. HOWEVER, I did write a story for the Romance category that included many descriptive passages that attempted to evoke emotion. Like you, I find writing this way to be very challenging. I'll write a 3,000-word sex scene with barely a pause, but struggle to describe the events leading up to it, and the motivation of the characters.

My input on yours is that my mind cannot reconcile some of what you wrote. In the beginning, I envision a very desolate place, almost desert-like; but then the character spent the night at a farm, with fields and a stream. Without some description of him coming across this "oasis", the transition is very jarring to me.

The scene with the farmer's wife seems to be a throw-away, a gratuitous bit of cleavage that leads to nothing. Does the MC come back and ravage her later in the story? Is it the start of a progression that leads up to the MC becoming sexually frustrated? Without more of the story, I can't tell.


Anyway, here's my snippet, from "The Museum Piece", my Romance story.

It was another sexless Friday night and Miranda Douglas was wandering the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She could have been out with friends, probably should have been out with friends, but she wasn’t. She was tired of the hunt, regardless of whether she was the hunter or the hunted, and when she went out with them they always turned it into the hunt. For some reason, she could not get them to understand that she did not want another man, that she was happy with her life without one. Well, mostly happy.

It hadn’t always been that way, but her ex-husband Rick had put her off relationships. They had been great together. Rick worked in finance, she owned a private investigation firm, and New York was their playground. They were “living the high life” as her parents back in Iowa would say. A penthouse apartment, parties where they rubbed elbows with the New York elite, they were loving life. Everywhere they went, Rick was attentive and gracious, treating her as if she was a trophy wife. And the men flirted with her, they offered to take her away for long weekends in Paris, or Madrid, or wherever she wanted. It seemed every powerful man in New York was looking for a mistress, and a lot of them seemed to want Miranda. Their attention always gave her a rush, her heart would beat fast and she would feel flushed. She never took them seriously, but sometimes she’d think of the latest proposition as she touched herself at night.

The sex was good, but not great. Rick pleased her and brought her to orgasm, but he was not very imaginative or open to exploration of their sexuality, he always seemed preoccupied with something. Turns out that something had been money. She yearned for a man who would take her and use her for his pleasure. She wanted to be dominated, not in a BDSM context, but just thrown down on the bed and fucked like a whore. Rick was not capable of that, though she repeatedly hinted at her desire. One would think that with the number of empty rooms in the mansions they frequented that he would have fulfilled her desires.

I'm game to play but take my criticism for what it's worth, which is very little.

If this is a stroker story then this is excellent narrative exposition introducing the character. In three paragraphs you have introduced the character, established that she's attractive, used to moving among wealth, and looking for a particular type of excitement in her sex life which is sufficiently important to her that it ended her marriage. You've avoided the 44-32-36 trap that so many stroke-writers fall into and I am expecting that the story that follows will be an actual story and will contain elements of the main character being thrown on a bed and fucked like a whore.

If this is a longer story with sex (rather than shorter form sex with a story) then I feel you could have introduced this character better by having her actually go out on the town with her friends and then leaving them to go to the museum. This would have allowed the other characters to function as the Greek Chorus, providing us with this information through conversation rather than narrative exposition.

In both cases the writing and the subject matter are sufficient to hold my interest and make me read further. I want to know a little more about why her hints were not expressly stated needs and I want to see her thrown to a bed and fucked like a whore to her immense satisfaction.

 

[Comshaw]

Rip me to shreds!​

Hmmmm...puts me in mind of this:




Comshaw

 

[shelleycat1]

From something I'm working on, about 300w.

"I've just discovered my parents had programmed me. Did you know?" Anne looked carefully at his face, since she had known him for five years she expected she would catch a reaction.

He looked like a codfish this time. He stuttered and looked shocked for thirty seconds. Either he was a great actor, which he wasn't, or he had not known. Deep inside, she felt glad. She sighed and relaxed.

"I think you didn't know." He wasn't one of the demons. "Have you been programmed?"

He continued to look shocked, and then angry. She hadn't seen him angry before. She felt excited by it.

He shut his mouth and looked intensely at her, leaning forward. "Two questions. How do you know? Are you sure? And how would I know?"

"That's three questions. I was always better at maths than you." That got a quick smile from him, erased immediately by the intense look. She looked at his dark eyes; it was the first time she had seen them with real emotion.

She continued, "After my accident the hospital monitored my brain using a programming set. It told me I'd been done before. I didn't remember it, but that got me suspecting something. Then my father freaked out over the programming set being in the room with me. And then I got myself a headset and found out for sure. Then I erased the fucking lot. I'm very fucking sure."

That really surprised him. "You never swear."

"Programming."

He thought for a while. "Why talk to me? I mean, if you thought..."

"Easier to talk to than my father. Or my mother. I think it was both of them. I'm glad it's not you. I did like you before but that could have been fake. I think you didn't know, so you aren't against me. I will take the high road with you – you are a blank to me. Hi, I'm Anne."

Mark paused for a second before catching on. "Hi Anne, I'm Mark. Not Annie any more?"

 

[AllenWoody]

You made, in my opinion, one unforgivable mistake.

It’s “She’s so dull, rip her to shreds.”

Not ‘dumb’.

[walks away shaking head]

 

[Otto26]

shelleycat1 wrote and Otto26 mutilated:

"I've just discovered my parents had programmed me. Did you know?" Anne looked carefully at his face. , since she had known him for five years she expected she would catch a reaction.​

​

He looked like a codfish this time. He stuttered and looked shocked for thirty seconds. Either he was a great actor, which he wasn't, or he had not known. Deep inside, she felt glad. She sighed and relaxed.​

​

"I think you didn't know." He wasn't one of the demons. "Have you been programmed?"​

​

He continued to look shocked, and then angry. She hadn't seen him angry before. S and she felt excited by it.​

​

He shut his mouth and leaned forward, looked intensely at her, leaning forward. "Two questions. How do you know? Are you sure? And how would I know?"​

​

"That's three questions. I was always remember I was always was better at maths than you." That got a quick smile from him, erased immediately by the intense look. She looked at his dark eyes; it was the first time she had seen them with real emotion.​

​

His intense gaze was briefly interrupted by a fleeting smile.​

​

She continued, "After my accident," she continued, "the hospital monitored my brain using with a programming set. It told me I'd been done before. The hospital staff asked about the last time one had been used on me. I didn't remember it, but that got me suspecting something. anything about that. Then my father freaked out over the programming set being in the room with me. And then So I got myself a headset and found out for sure. Then I erased the fucking lot. I'm vVery fucking sure."​

​

That really surprised him. He blinked in surprise. "You never swear."​

​

"Programming." "I do now. I had every fucking trace of the programming erased."​

​

"Why talk to me?" he asked after a few moments of thought. "I mean, if you thought..."​

​

"Easier to talk to than my father. Or my mother. I think it was both of them. I'm glad it's not you. I did like you before but that could have been fake. I think you didn't know, so you aren't against me. I will take the high road with you – you are a blank to me. Hi, I'm Anne."​

"I needed to know if you knew. I'm questioning every aspect of my life. Did I like you because I was programmed to like you? Was I programmed to like men like you? I have to approach every memory, every desire, and every relationship with distrust and start over." She extended her hand to him. "Hi, I'm Anne."​

​

Mark paused for a second before catching on. It took him a second to process and then he took her hand in his. "Hi Anne, I'm Mark. Not Annie any more?"​

I've made some suggested edits in your writing. You should remember that these are my opinion and nothing more; I'm not using some guidebook to making writing more effective. I've trimmed some extraneous description. I feel that dialog should reveal emotion and description should supplement that rather than being the other way around. And I feel your dialog does reveal the emotion you want the reader to understand.

You're making the case that she can't trust her memories anymore, so I changed the wording on 'better at maths' to reflect this. I broke up some of her explanation of how she came to know she was programmed and re-phrased some of it. The only alteration I consider really important is having the hospital staff tell her she'd been programmed rather than doing it herself. Which is also why I had her say she had the programming erased. If she's a medical professional who could do these things then I've made a big mistake. I also got rid of "not Annie anymore?" because the male character didn't come across as being particularly slow.

This was readable as you posted it and before I mutilated it. I think this works a little better but you should work with a real editor (use the find an editor tool in your Lit dashboard) to get better advice.

 

[Otto26]

lovecraft68 wrote and Otto26 mutilated

​

“See that candle?” The priest pointed to the last one in the top row. “I light that for Melanie Carter. I light it every Tuesday because that’s the day we first met, and you taught me to believe in things beyond what I could see and touch. In a way, you restored my stagnant faith.”​

​

“Glad I could help. Candles are lit for the dead, so you’re admitting she is.” Abigail's black painted lips curled into a smile. "A point for me?”​

​

“No, for me. This represents a light that’s still somewhere within you. You keep denying it, so I keep her alive for you. Melanie never died, Abigail. A still heartbeat for a moment on a table is not death. Only one has ever truly risen from the dead.​

​

“I believe Melanie being alive and well beneath that harsh exterior is what will enable you to survive. The merciless ultimately meet their end because they have nothing to temper that cruelty, and it will consume their life. However, those that care enough to risk themselves for others? They’re the ones that survive. A woman as outwardly hateful as Abigail would have never risked her life for four helpless girls."​

​

"I enjoyed killing their captors. Abigail Lefey," she tapped her chest, "does those things."​

​

“Wrong. Melanie is the part of you that does that. The love she had in her heart that you think was wasted, resides within you. At times it shakes hands with that anger and uses it to help others that you would never let suffer the fate those animals planned for her. She is your ticket to redemption and why you only take the lives of those who would take others if allowed to."​

​

Father Tomaso stepped to the side. “But, if you are so certain she’s dead, then put it out.”​

​

When she scowled, he pointed once more. “You can control fire. Go ahead and do it. Prove to me you truly think there’s nothing left of that girl.”​

​

“This is ridiculous,”​

​

“You’re supposed to be heartless. Snuff her out.”​

​

Her ebony eyes narrowed, her will focused on the flame. So small, so fragile, so much like Melanie herself had been. Trying to shine, to be noticed, but continuously extinguished by cruelty. She could end the sad little flame with a mere thought but wouldn't doing so would make her as callous as everyone had been to Melanie during her sad life?​

​

“Well?”​

​

“I’ll let it burn.” Abigail faced him. “But only for you to keep your hope that she exists alive.”​

​

Father Tomaso nodded solemnly. “Just for me.”​

​

“Only for you.”​

​

I made really minor edits. Good luck finding them.

It seems like a readable story. I like the idea of someone building a new identity in order to survive and I've explored that idea a few times myself.

 

[Portly_Penguin]

The text you've written does quite a lot in few words. It sets the scenery, explains the relationship between the two characters, and highlights several of their personality traits - all whilst leading towards an action, with potential erotic undertones, taking place.

One of the characters does significantly more talking than the other though. Sometimes, that's not too unrealistic - perhaps Aiden is the quiet sort, whilst Jason is more outgoing. However, with only the two of them present, having Jason refer to the other character by name - "Like what you see, Aiden?" - feels very forced. I do this myself at times when I need to name a character to the reader, or to highlight who's speaking to who, but how often do we actually use our friend's names in casual conversation when it's not necessary? Rarely, I'd say. Just something to keep in mind if you do this often in your writing. Perhaps best to keep it to a minimum.

I see what you mean xD Always throwing in a character name when it's not needed; it's a curse Thanks for the feedback!

 

[shelleycat1]

shelleycat1 wrote and Otto26 mutilated:


I've made some suggested edits in your writing. You should remember that these are my opinion and nothing more; I'm not using some guidebook to making writing more effective. I've trimmed some extraneous description. I feel that dialog should reveal emotion and description should supplement that rather than being the other way around. And I feel your dialog does reveal the emotion you want the reader to understand.

You're making the case that she can't trust her memories anymore, so I changed the wording on 'better at maths' to reflect this. I broke up some of her explanation of how she came to know she was programmed and re-phrased some of it. The only alteration I consider really important is having the hospital staff tell her she'd been programmed rather than doing it herself. Which is also why I had her say she had the programming erased. If she's a medical professional who could do these things then I've made a big mistake. I also got rid of "not Annie anymore?" because the male character didn't come across as being particularly slow.

This was readable as you posted it and before I mutilated it. I think this works a little better but you should work with a real editor (use the find an editor tool in your Lit dashboard) to get better advice.

Thank you. That was useful, and I wll use the ideas. It makes it flow faster and I thimk I need to do that to keep the story interesting.

 

[StillStunned]

Guess I'll bite the bullet. This was something I started but, might not finish so I don't really care how mean you get with this. It's my usual style so the feedback would help across the board regardless of whether I write this specific story. Enjoy.

The editor in me is itching to take a red pen to a few of your sentences. For instance:

I left the directions to Jason COMMA who knew the area like the back of his hand. We scrambled over dirt tracks AND jagged rocks, and through trees that blocked out most of the sunlight.

For the rest, there's a bit of head-hopping going on when they reach the lake. The narrator can only infer that Jason wants to feel the sun on his face and feels "relief to be outside" - if that relief is supposed to be the narrator's, it needs to be described closer to his own action of breathing in the crisp air.

In fact, you should break up your paragraphs more to separate speech and action. In the "Like what you see, Aiden?" bit, you go from Jason's speech to Jason's actions to Aiden's thoughts to Jason's speech and Jason's actions.

Overall, Jason's words and actions seem incongruous with his attitude. If he isn't interested in Aiden sexually, he's at least flaunting himself in a way that borders on overt flirtation. I'd expect Aiden to reflect on this - either being resigned to is as Jason's habitual teasing (his actions, not his words) or else wondering if there's something more going on.

 

[StillStunned]

I can't effectively cut this down to 250, it's roughly 300 words but gives enough context to set the scene, hopefully. It's a snippet from around the bottom of page 1 of the story.

Apart from this being confusing, from a lack of context, my main gripe (perhaps my only gripe) is the inconsistent use of contractions.

 

[StillStunned]

Something random from a work in progress, its longer than 250 words, but I couldn't whittle it down much more to still make sense. The "Duality" on display here is an interest of mine...because I'm weird.

You could use some copyediting. You have commas where they don't belong, and your use of contractions is inconsistent. Some sentences would read better if they were chopped up.

A bigger issue is POV. Presumably this is being told from Abigail's perspective, so why do you say "Abigail's black painted lips curled into a smile"? This is describing it from the outside, not the inside. You could reinforce her POV by changing it to "Abigail felt her lips curl into a smile, noticing the black paint crack at the unfamiliar movement" (or simply: "Abigail smiled").

Then you have separate paragraphs of Father Tomaso's speech that would be clearer if there was a line of action to connect them, so that it's clearer that it's still him talking. And when you do include action, it feels odd to call him by his name, instead of just saying "he". It makes it seem like it's a different person.

 

[StillStunned]

From something I'm working on, about 300w.

Your use of contractions isn't consistent (I seem to say this about everyone's snippet). You could probably also do without stating that the narrator "feels" things: you're in her POV, so it's a given that her reactions are her feelings.

I also think you've taken some shortcuts. "He looked like a codfish" would be more effective as "He gaped at her like a codfish". For a start, you avoid implying that this is his habitual expression, or that his skin is silvery and he has gills, and secondly the reference to shutting his mouth works better this way. When he goes from surprise to anger, there should be some visible shift: the narrator should see the process behind his eyes. And what's an "intense look"? Is he squinting? Is this in some way different from being angry?

Overall I think there's more going on inside your head than you've managed to put onto the page.