Bound for Trouble

Triana Orpheus and Sirena Ong are kidnapped as part of a plan against their fathers and bond during their captivity.

Triana blinked as the bag was yanked off her head, the dim light of the room stinging her eyes. She tried to move but felt the rough bite of ropes at her wrists and arms. Her legs, bound at the knees and ankles, barely shifted as she sat awkwardly on the edge of the creaky bed. The cleave gag pressed against her cheeks, muffling the words she desperately wanted to spit out.

Across from her, another girl was revealed as her own bag was removed. She had sleek, dark hair and piercing eyes that immediately locked onto Triana. Her expression twisted with a mix of annoyance and confusion, and she squirmed in her bindings, testing the restraints with no luck.

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, each girl assessing the other. Triana's mind raced: Who is this? Another victim? Why would they grab two people?

Sirena, for her part, narrowed her eyes as if sizing up an opponent. I've never seen her before, but she looks cool. Goth attire, very nice. 

Triana tilted her head, trying to convey a question with her gaze. Sirena raised an eyebrow in response, her look saying loud and clear: What are you staring at?

A muffled grunt from Triana broke the silence, her tone making it clear she was trying to communicate. Sirena gave a half-shrug and made a noise of her own, equally unintelligible. The frustration of their gags quickly became evident as they both let out muffled sighs.

Triana leaned forward slightly, her wrists straining against the ropes. She gestured subtly with her head toward the door as if asking, Do you know where we are?

Sirena rolled her eyes and shook her head. Then she nodded toward their bindings, her expression sharp: Forget that�"how do we get out of this?

For a brief second, they both just glared at each other. Then, as if realizing they were in the same sinking ship, their gazes softened. Triana made another sound, her tone lighter this time, almost like she was laughing�"albeit awkwardly and through the gag. Sirena hesitated, then let out a muffled snort of her own.

They didn't know each other, didn't know why they were here, and couldn't even speak. But in that strange, tense moment, they both understood one thing: they'd better figure it out together.

�"�"�"�"�"�"�"�"�"�"

The door creaked open, and a masked figure stepped in, carrying a tray with two bowls of something vaguely resembling soup. Triana and Sirena both froze, watching as the figure set the tray on a rickety table in the corner. Without a word, they stepped toward Sirena, crouched down, and carefully loosened her gag, sliding it down around her neck.

Sirena coughed slightly, rolling her jaw as she glared at the figure. "About time," she muttered.

The figure ignored her and moved to Triana, repeating the same process. Triana flinched slightly as the fabric slid against her cheeks, leaving her face flushed. She opened her mouth to speak, but the figure held up a hand, cutting her off. "You're only getting a few minutes. Don't make me regret this." 

Once the gags were off, the two girls were fed soup. After that, the masked figure left, the door locking with a heavy clunk behind them.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint sound of the soup sloshing in the bowls. Then Sirena sighed. "Well, this is just fantastic. Kidnapped, tied up, and fed prison slop. Definitely not how I planned my day."

Triana raised an eyebrow. "You think your day was bad? Try getting dragged out of a perfectly good existential crisis for this."

Sirena glanced at her, intrigued despite herself. "Existential crisis? Sounds fun. Let me guess�"daddy issues?"

Triana's mouth twitched. "Bingo. Let me guess�"same?"

Sirena smirked, leaning back slightly despite the ropes. "Oh, definitely. What is it about dads and their obsession with being either the savior of the world or the one trying to burn it down?"

Triana chuckled. "Or, in my dad's case, the overly dramatic necromancer who thinks the world revolves around his magic."

Sirena laughed, a sharp sound that filled the room. "That's rich. My dad? Supervillain. All about the schemes, the monologues, and, of course, the endless guilt trips about not following in his footsteps."

Triana tilted her head. "So... you're a villain kid?"

Sirena shrugged as best she could, her shoulders straining against the ropes. "Technically. Not that I'm interested in the whole 'take over the world' gig. Too much work. Anyway, what's your name?"

"Triana," she replied. "And you?"

"Sirena," she said. "Nice to meet you, I guess. Weird circumstances, though."

Triana nodded. "Understatement of the century."

There was a pause before Sirena's expression softened slightly. "You know, you're not as annoying as I thought you'd be."

Triana smirked. "High praise."

The tension in the room eased just a little as the girls shared a brief smile. Triana sighed. "I guess this is just my luck. I finally decide to hang out somewhere that isn't my room, and somehow I get kidnapped. All because of my dad and his... weird stuff. I mean, seriously, do I look like the kind of person to have enemies like the Ventures?"

Sirena's head snapped up. "Wait. You've met the Ventures?"

Triana blinked. "Uh, yeah. My dad and I lived in their compound for a while. Why?"

Sirena stared at her, wide-eyed, before letting out a short laugh. "Unbelievable. I've met them too. Or, more like... they got all tangled up in my life thanks to my dad's business."

Triana tilted her head, intrigued. "Okay, now you have to tell me that story."

The two girls locked eyes again, the beginnings of a strange camaraderie forming between them.

Reviews

[JayG]

• She tried to move but felt the rough bite of ropes at her wrists and arms.

Seriously? She was bagged and transported and only felt the rope then? Naaa.

One of the hazards of trying to “tell” the reader a story is that you say things to educate reader on the situation, not because the protagonist is reacting as a person would. Readers WILL notice that, and turn away. Remember, they come to live the story in real-time, as the protagonist, not read a report.

The rest of the paragraph isn’t her noticing things and reacting to them. Instead, it’s you explaining. So we’re not with her, we’re being told about the events, secondhand, in the words of a dispassionate external observer. In other words, it IS a report.

Why dispassionate? Because only you know the emotion to place into the narrator's words.

• Across from her, another girl was revealed

To who? And...she was revealed? The watcher couldn’t see that there was a girl there with her head covered? She was invisible till then? Seriously?

• Triana's mind raced: Who is this? Another victim? Why would they grab two people?

Were you in that situation, would your first reaction be to wonder who this other person was, or, would you look around to access the situation and possible ways out? This is another artifact of “making things happen.” The actors have no will of their own, never think and react to the situation based on THEIR analysis and resources. Instead, they speak with your voice, think with your mind, and do as you order. How can that seem real?

So...why are they acting as shadow-puppets instead of acting as living people would in that situation? Because you’re writing as you were taught to write in school, where we learn the writing skills that employers require, like reports, letters, and other nonfiction writing.

Fiction Writing is a career, and like all such, the skills and techniques of it are acquired in addition to those school-day skills because, nothing-else-works. Writers have, after all, been refining those skills for centuries—which is why the pros use them.

So it’s not about talent, but knowledge. And like so many hopeful writers, because those pros make it seem so easy, you assumed that writing-is-writing, and you already have that taken care of.

If only.... But the solution is simple. Grab a good book on the basics of adding wings to your words, like Debra Dixon’s, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict, Jack Bickham’s, Scene and Structure, or Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer (available free on The Internet Archive site).

Any of those books will have you saying, “But that’s obvious. Why did I never notice?”

And once mastered, those skills will make the act of writing a lot more fun.’’

And, for an overview of the traps and gotchas, you might try a few of my articles and YouTube Videos

But whatever you do, don’t let this throw you. Hang in there and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein

Articles: https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/
Videos: https://www.youtube.com/@jaygreenstein3334

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“Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.”
~ E. L. Doctorow

“In sum, if you want to improve your chances of publication, keep your story visible on stage and yourself mum.”
~ Sol Stein

“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”
~ Mark Twain