Here's the first chapter to a little side project I'm doing in my Creative Writing Class.
I'm midway through the second chapter so far.
Feel free to comment/compliment/advise/flame/proofread/critique/whatever
[quote]
[B]Chapter One: Keep my insanity in check[/B]
Animalistic and frantic footsteps echoed through the dark parking garage. Two legs it sounded like, and at the rate they were running, they were flooded with acid, from the ankles all the way up to the thighs.
At the same time, a suited man emerged from the door to a maintenance room, shivering in a cold sweat as he held a hammer in a paranoid death grip. The footsteps were getting louder. And they were pissed.
The suit approached the nearest luxury sedan and went at the driver's side window with the hammer. The car let out a pained alarm like an infant interrupted from it's nap.
The footsteps were now accompanied by a distant blue-gray figure. The suited man opened the door, slumped into the driver's seat, grabbed a card from his pocket, and presented it in front of the steering wheel. The alarm ceased, and a pre-recorded female voice emitted from the dashboard.
“Federal auth flags accepted. Please stand by for ignition.”
The feral footsteps no longer echoed off concrete. They came to a stop on the hood of the car. The suited man looked up and saw a masked man in a custodian's jumpsuit wielding a rifle. The firearm bobbed up and down as he panted.
“Sign the Goddamn paper, Womach.”
Two seconds later, the car's engine whirred to life. As the suited man shifted into drive and slammed on the accelerator, the rifle bucked backwards in a stuttered bark.
The last thoughts were about jackhammers. Particularly the sound they make and what he thought it'd feel like to have one rip through his torso.
***
As the dying suited man regained consciousness, he found himself in the same car, but slammed against a concrete pillar. He couldn't feel his legs, and he was afraid to look and see what condition they were in. Without seeing the car's interior, he wouldn't have though it was a nice German-made luxury sedan he tried to escape in earlier. The car's body was as maimed and mutilated as he was. The hood was bent, buckled, and distorted. He was no car technician, but whatever was sticking out oh the exposed engine block probably wasn't supposed to be sticking out of the exposed engine block. Even if his legs were still attached to him and he could make them hold down the brake pedal, and if he could raise his arms to the steering column, he would be able to shift the car in reverse, maybe escape. And to what good end, he wondered? What if the bumper was snagged on the concrete? What if the engine just sputtered and died? What if it turns out one of the wheels broke off the front axle in the crash? The car would get nowhere, the gunman would be even angrier.
Speaking of which, as he weakly turned his head to the left, he could make out the gunman fiddling with something on the car door. The gunman saw him and gestured at the object he attached to the inside of the car door.
"This is what we'd use in Cuba to breach doors. There's evidence. Ejected shells. Fingerprints. Blood. Here. Here. A little of my own blood over there. Police arrive. Car explodes. Lawmen and Forensic examiners die. For doing their job, I suppose. In any case, evidence is gone.”
The gunman pushed off from the door and leaned on the hood of the crumpled sedan.
“I rolled my ankle when I fell. Your torso's practically disconnected from your legs. You're a regular Pez dispenser. You'll die. Probably blood loss.”
The gunman stepped back from the door, and limped away into the darkness.
***
Detective David Fiedel deeply inhaled the cigarette vapor. Nicotine entered his bloodstream, and he was calm again. He turned around and faced the luxury sedan, being probed by men in yellow Hazmats, then turned back to Tom Sandusky.
“Sandusky, is there something they don't understand about 'don't touch the car that's rigged with chemical explosives'?” His raspy, cigarette-afflicted voice resonated in the parking garage.
“It's procedure, Dave.”
“The hell it is. People are still in the building, and this car has door breaches rigged on either door with god knows how many packets of sarin nerve agent in the back seat. Fortunately, the half-witted forensic novice who likes to open abandoned car doors at unsecured crimes scene died in the last explosion.”
“The door breaches won’t even blow up the car. This is an amateur’s work.”
“Amateur, huh?”
Fiedel glared at Sandusky and pointed to an abandoned rifle on the ground.
“See that? That's a Romulus LMG. It's a machine gun that fires magnetically accelerated bullets. Makes a distinct sound like a jackhammer against concrete.”
Fiedel inhaled another fruitless cloud of nicotine before finishing his thought.
“Back in '92 we'd mount them on these small, unarmored M151 jeeps, and we'd go up against T-80's. Know what those are? Beastly Russian-made tanks. Terrifying. And we'd zip around in these little jeeps, and tear the tanks to shreds. Like they were made of tissue paper.”
“What's your point?”
Fiedel deeply inhaled nicotine vapor.
“My point is, amateurs don’t carry state-of-the-art, military-grade light machine guns that are powerful enough to shred apart light armor.”
Sandusky gestured toward the maimed corpse in the car. "Professionals use those on light armor. Not people.”
“Alright, well how about the sarin nerve gas, and the car bomb? Remember when that Japanese terrorist group, Aum Shinrikyo, that attacked the Los Angeles Subway with Sarin nerve gas in 1995?”
Sandusky nodded as Fiedel paced back and forth.
“They had the sarin in liquid form, in these little bags that they’d puncture, and then it’d evaporate, giving them time to make it to the getaway vehicle. What they didn’t take into account is that sarin evaporates slower than water, and on a cold day much less. Only two people were killed by the Sarin attack.”
Fiedel turned back to Sandusky, and continued his little lecture.
“…But this man. He knew what he was doing. You see, the clever part is that it looks like an intended car bomb. But like you said, the most those door breaches would do is blow the doors off of an otherwise nice car.”
Fiedel paused to inhale more nicotine. “The explosion would also not only puncture the bags of sarin, but also heat up the sarin to the point of evaporation. Everyone in this building, and eventually this entire block, would just drop dead.”
“Or maybe it's a wannabe terrorist who doesn't know how to set up a proper car bomb. Making this the third failed chemical bombing this year. And it's January.”
Fiedel chuckled and patted Sandusky on the shoulder. “That's why you're here, Tom. To argue with me and keep my insanity in check.
[/quote]
Some of the last thoughts to go through his head were about jackhammers. Particularly the sound they make and what he thought it'd feel like to have one rip through his torso.
wow. that line. i love it.
though you should take out "to go through his head". thats kinda redundant and heavy-handed
also it should probably be "regained his composure", not "regained his posture". i think.
and one more thing: “The explosion would also not only puncture the bags of sarin, but also heat up the sarin to the point of evaporation. Everyone in this building, and eventually this entire block, would just drop dead.”
having two alsos right in such close proximity is no good.
its not often i read something actually good on here, but this is pretty good
Thanks. Actually, I meant to change "posture' to 'composure' in an earlier draft, thanks.
To rival Stephen King.
[quote]The footsteps were getting louder. And they were pissed.[/quote]
I understand what you're trying to do here but it just doesn't quite take. If it was a longer passage, where you introduced the metaphor more clearly at the outset (like "the footsteps were frantic, unsteady. Dangerous, like a wild animal" or something), it'd work better. As it is, it's kind of an isolated moment of weirdness.
[quote]The car let out a pained alarm like an infant interrupted from it's nap. [/quote]
Its, not it's. Also the "like" sort of splits the metaphor. If you replace "like" with a comma and "an infant interrupted from" with something like "a terrified infant awakened from its nap" or something (you can be interrupted by something, or be interrupted while you do something, but you can't be interrupted [i]from[/i] something).
[quote]The car automatically changed gears.[/quote]
You should mention the car starting before you mention it changing gears. Also, what gears? I'm not sure what time period this is supposed to be, but if it's present or near-future this is problematic--most cars are automatic, so the only thing it could do would be to go from "park" to "drive" (which isn't what you want if you're parked in a garage) or from "park" to "reverse"--but how would it know which? How does it even know he wants to go somewhere and not just listen to the radio or get something out of the back seat? Now we're getting into seriously sci-fi territory without establishing a context for it. It leaves me wondering things like "what year is it?" and "why would you need a car that does that anyway?"
[quote]The firearm bobbed up and down as he panted, but he kept it trained on the suited man's neck.[/quote]
Isn't that kind of contradictory?
[quote]Not two seconds after the gunman finished his statement, the car's engine whirred to life. As the suited man slammed on the accelerator, the rifle let out a burst.[/quote]
Try to trim down unnecessary language. "Not two seconds after the gunman finished his statement" could easily be condensed to "two seconds later." Also, "not two seconds" is a somewhat archaic construction and doesn't fit with the gritty modern-or-future mood you're cultivating.
And now the car starts up? Why was it changing gears before? In a manual, you have to engage the clutch before you start the engine. In an automatic, that happens when you turn the key. But there's no gear-changing that happens before that point. It's a minor problem, but things like that can distract the reader.
"The rifle let out a burst" is another example of too many words conveying too little information. There's a number of words and phrases to describe gunfire--"the rifle fired" is one, although that's too generic. "The rifle barked" is good, but sounds like it means one shot. Something like "the rifle bucked backward with a stuttering bark." It's still about as long as the original, but there's a lot more informational meat inside.
[quote]The last thoughts were about jackhammers. Particularly the sound they make and what he thought it'd feel like to have one rip through his torso.[/quote]
This is clever, but the second half of the second sentence suffers from the same problem. "what he thought it'd feel like to have one rip through his torso" might be better as "how they might feel when they rip through your torso."
[quote]As the dying suited man regained consciousness, he could make out the gunman fiddling with something on the door.[/quote]
What door? The car door? When you have a character regain consciousness it's good to make a point of telling us where they are, because unconsciousness it usually used as a device to immediately move the character from one place to another. This engenders an understandable paranoia on the part of the reader.
[quote]“You fucking politicians just won't die, will you? No. You exist just to make others suffer. Like this.”[/quote]
This isn't a bad line but it's slightly odd in that it implies that politicians have a reputation for being difficult to kill, which they don't. That in turn means it's probably a personal bias on the part of the speaker, but without context it's a bit of a mental snag.
[quote]“Your vision is probably blurred as you cling to life,[/quote]
I have to take serious issue with this. This would be melodramatic and cliched even if it was a part of the narration--to have a character say it out loud is just silly. "Your vision is probably blurred" and "cling to life" make it sound like he knows he's in a story, and is breaking the fourth wall with a joke.
[quote]The gunman almost started sobbing as he ran his hand along the back of his neck.[/quote]
[quote]The gunman stopped crying and regained his composure.[/quote]
Inconsistent. Is he crying or not?
[quote]“But no. Thought you could beat me. Now there's evidence. Ejected shells. Fingerprints. Blood. Here. Luxury sedan explodes. Lawmen and Forensic examiners will die for doing their job.”[/quote]
This is good. I like this.
[quote]The gunman grabbed the suited man by his hair and glared at him intensely. The suited man was screaming at him with rage, but he only heard muffled, indistinct noise. He had lost his hearing again.[/quote]
One thing to keep in mind is that authors almost always write from the perspective of one character. Even if it's written in the third person, the actions of one character, as well as their thoughts and emotions, are predominant. You started this scene from the perspective of the politician, but switched to that of the gunman in the middle. It's like switching tenses--jarring.
[quote]“I see your mouth move, but I hear nothing. I can grab your neck and I could feel your vocal cords and I could choke you! ...But, I wouldn't hear you struggle. Where's the fun in that?” The gunman giggled. “Your torso's practically disconnected from your legs. You're a regular Pez dispenser. You'll die. Probably blood loss.”[/quote]
That's not how you use ellipses. Generally, you should avoid using ellipses at all. Also, the first half of dialogue is overplayed and corny. The giggle makes the gunman sound insane, which is confusing because up till now he just sounded angry and desperate. If he's crazy you should go back and characterize him as such a lot earlier on. The "your torso" line is good, though. It's more nihilistic and uncaring, as opposed to the first part's cartoonish psychosis.
[quote]The gunman stepped back from the door, and limped away into the darkness, leaving the suited man to die in agony.[/quote]
"Leaving the suited man to die in agony" should be cut right out--you just spent the whole scene establishing how badly maimed the suited man is, and the fact that the gunman is limping away means he is clearly leaving the guy behind. Restating what just happened is like explaining a joke after telling it. It detracts from the impact.
and now I have to do homework but I can bitch about the rest tomorrow or something if you remind me
Thanks for the epic critique, TH89, but that should be enough for now :D
The setting is intentionally ambiguous for now. Partially because I wanted to hint at the alternate universe (1992 Cuban War, Sarin attacks in LA subway instead of Tokyo) and let the reader find out for themselves as the story progresses. While I want to keep readers hooked by keeping them guessing, the setting of the story isn't something the reader should have to piece together.
Really though, the main reason is because I don't want anything to be set in stone where part of the setting might conflict with an event I decide on later in the story, then gfo back in and rewrite it with a clearly established setting at the beginning. So more than anything, it was a cheap cop-out.
I really do enjoy writing, and in the back of my mind I'm considering a writing-related career, so this really does help, and I appreciate it.
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