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Peasant Blurs

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Mokrie Dela

i've spotted quite a few errors which suggest a lack of proof reading (i've often skipped that step) but aside from that, this isn't bad. I'm wanting to be given more though, i'm wanting a hook, something that grabs the reader and pulls them in. That's the problem with first chapters, and i suppose that it's hard to write a gripping opening chapter without falling into the cliche of pointless action for the sake of action.


Still, most books i read pose a question in some form, often one the reader says: "Who is this guy" "Why is he doing this" or things like that.


I try to either had a solid discription that puts the reader in the story to a point where they can't put it down, or an action sequence that attracts attention like a punch to the face. This is personal preference, and not everyone will agree with me, but i find that it's this that's missing in this writing. There is no punch that's getting my attention, and i dont feel like im in the story either.


certainly not bad though.

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I like your dialogue. That can be one of the trickiest things to get right, but the way your characters interact feels not only realistic, but revealing. I'm getting so much from the way they phrase their words, the way they react to each other - it's a really good quality.


Unfortunately, the description feels a little more muddled. I'm not sure whether it's the errors or some strange word choices, but the meaning is getting tangled up a little, like it's tripping over itself. Instead of trying to jazz up the prose and make it as detailed and vivid as possible, maybe try stripping it back a little. Just tell us what we need to know - give us the bare essentials of the story, and let your dialogue do the rest of the work. Once that becomes a little more solid, you could try reintroducing some choice words to spice up the prose.


Also, when a character says something, just use "said". Pondered, brushed off, welcomed, assumed - they all distract from it. Just use said. Let the dialogue do the talking, as it has been.

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It was difficult to write this, only because the prologue isn't action packed with explosions and bank robberies. Although, the fighter jets and asthma attack kept the readers alert. Thanks Eminence, it is tricky trying to word out what is going to be said. When I'm writing the dialogue, I try to imagine talking to that real life character and try to get that authentic reply and gesture.


Chapter one is in the process. Trying to work around my cons and pick out the pros to hopefully improve from the prologue. What do you want or expect to see in part one?

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One- Peep


The bed sheets overhang the mattress and a figure stood on his tippy toes who stared out the windows blinds. Not only did Ant wake up to wait for an expected visitor, but his bed sheets were damp. Excitement bubbled in the pit of his stomach every minute he saw a shadow appear at the end of the driveway. Usually, it was a school kid or a morning walker. That was far from the point; he knew how the person was going to arrive.


There was a creek at the doorway, “You’ve been wetting the bed since a child,” his brother said. Anthony turned around with what he saw and heard, “Ross, no need to talk like that,” and there was a quiet sense of awkwardness, Ant continued, “And why aren’t you writing?”

No reply was offered as Ross had disappeared down the hallway and to the front door. Ant looked as his bed with a sense of humiliation before he followed his sibling to the door.


“How do we know if it’s…?” Ant interrupted as he hushed Ross. The door handle shuffled a few times, before a specific knock was followed. They’re eyes lightened with joy. Anthony unlocked the door to see a women standing there who was dressed in a postal uniform.


“Sandra, it’s so good to see you,” Ant said as he welcomed her in.


She handed a loaf of bread and a pile of damper to him, “Good to see you too. It’s great to be working morning shifts,” Sandra heaved her blue jacket off, “Where’s Ross, still writing away,” laughter erupted from the living room. The two hurried into the room to see Ross, cross legged in front of the blissing fireplace.


Ant leaned and whispered, “This morning, he was acting unusual,” Sandra smirked and turned to face him, “He came into my room and insulted me for the first time ever,”


“Isn’t that what normal brothers do?” she asked, “You should be happy for him that he is interacting,”, although it was strangely humorous, it also worried both of them.


“I’ve always taken the fire for granted. When you sit here and watch it, that’s just something different,” said Ross.


“Alright you too, I’m heading off,” she collected her mail bag, “and make sure not to leave the damper in the heat,” she said as her voice mumbled down the hallway. Ant wasn’t completely sure what was going on in Ross’ mind, and he was tempted to take a gaze at what he had been writing. Before he could consider, sounds sky rocketed above the neighbourhood and he couldn’t end his excitement again. He placed the food on the kitchen bench before bouncing down the hallway and locking the house. He slowly breathed and condense oozed from his mouth, into the morning air.


His sneakers pounded again the icy pavement.


“Morning Ant,” said Ringo. The coldness from the wired fence gave him a nasty ice burn which he pulled away in pain. The air seemed dense that morning and everything laid flat. He coughed a few time; he became distracted by the smoke moving by his head from Ringo’s cigar. The man soon noticed.


“Sorry, I didn’t offer you a cigar. Is that why you were coughing, to get my attention,” he exhaled slowly,


“No... Thank you. I’m actually an asthmatic,” Ant said.


He shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out an asthma puffer,


“See,” Anthony said.


It came to Ringo’s attention, “My brother. He’s been smoking ever since whenever. I don’t talk to him much anymore, but he’s also been using one of them puffers after he got a chest infection when he was twenty or something,” he sniffed and offered him a cigar.


Ant said, “If I wanted to drown my sorrows in charcoal, I already would have,” but the elder only chuckled and titled his hat towards his face.


It was to be that he had some way, insulted Ringo. It became more ill at ease when the jets stopped early because of shower. Soon, without noticing, Ringo had folded his chair up and wandered elsewhere. The only aircrafts present were the minute Cessna planes which were unnoticeable to the human eye after seven thousand feet.


Ant soon felt like a prayed animal, and an eagle was the watching eye. That’s what it was like living on enemy lines, being a British lad. Paranoia fuelled him to keep moving his feet, all the way home. Paranoia wanted him to feel uncomfortable and hopeless but once he got to his fireplace, next to his pleased brother, all threaten thoughts vanished.


Ant wasn’t exactly sure why he decided to show up at the airport. Perhaps because the guilt he invested after insulting Ringo, or perhaps he just wanted to have some isolation from his unusual brother.


Ant slowly approached from behind and lightly tapped Ringo on the shoulder.


Frightened, he turned around, “Jeez kid, I almost had just had my second heart attack,”


Anthony laughed, and then hesitated, “Ringo, I need to ask you,”


The elder looked up, “Yes, you ticked me off yesterday,” Ants stomach drooped, “But don’t bother, it wasn’t your fault,” he paused, “If anything, It was my fault,” Ringo revealed a small wooden box from his pocket, “I carry it everywhere I go,” he smiled.


The cap popped open and hidden inside were a few toy soldiers.


“These were… are my sons,” he slightly smiled, “They aren’t much but I take them wherever I go,”


Ant knew what he was saying. He was like a son to Ringo. They had really bonded over the last few months.


A small two seated plane flew overhead and landed, “Have you ever wanted to fly a plane Anthony?”


“No, well, yes but I don’t have the know-how,” said Ant.


“Don’t be stupid,” he leaned in, “You just have to learn the A-B-C and then you can do the X-Y-Z,” he said, “It’s like riding a bike. It comes almost as a second instinct,”


Ant interrupted, “The funny thing is, I’ve never rid a bike,”


Ringos’ eyes widened, “Didn’t the folks teach you?”


“My parents are dead,”


There was a long pause which seemed to last an eternity.


“Sorry to hear son,” he said, “Nevermind, you can learn how to fly a plane before you can ride a bike,”


They both laughed for a while. The conversation shortly ended after he lit a cigar and the airport runway was soon covered by a thick layer of fog. Better get home before my vision is completely disabled, he thought.


Ant scuffled down the hallway to hear scribbling coming from the living room. He peeped around the corner to see Ross furiously writing. It wasn’t normal for him to be writing at that phase.


“You alright Ross,”


He turned around with bloodshot eyes, “I’ve been up all morning,”


“What have you been doing,” he asked, “Straining your brain at early times of the morning,”


“No Anthony, I’ve been listening and writing music,” Ross held a small music player device.


“Where did you get that from?”


He hesitated, “The neighbour,” he continued, “I went through the neighbour’s garbage,”


Ant rolled his eyes, “Damn Ross, you can’t be doing that,”


“No, no, no, I found music,” he said, “It were if I was meant to find it,”


Ant asked, “What type of music,”


“The Doors, of course Anthony,”


He held up a tape cover of The Doors album on cosset.


Ant carried on with a nod into the kitchen thinking about Ross’ behaviour. This writing, his insults, this music, snooping through the neighbours trash, he thought. Sandra’s voice came into mind, ‘You should be proud of him,’ Ant couldn’t handle the stress and head butted the wall, putting a hole through it.


Reality hit home. He suddenly imagined if it were a solid wall, not hollow. Ant collapsed on the floor crying as ‘The End’ by The Doors played throughout the house. At shallow times like these, Ant begged his maker to see his parents.





A portable fan stood beside Ants bed, blowing onto the bed sheets. It happened again. Not only that, but Ross was asleep, and he had been since yesterday afternoon. He moved over and frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Ant touched his bruised forehead and pulled his way hastily and knocked over a glass of water. It loudly shattered; Ross rolled over and muttered.



His sneakers pounded against the icy pavement.



“Kid, what happened to your head,” asked Ringo, who held an acoustic guitar.


Ant touched his forehead, “I had some trouble,” he said, “I tripped and hit my head,” Ant continued.


Ant quickly glanced at the runway but his thoughts weren’t on watching the planes, rather getting in one and taking control.


“You thinking about flying yet?” asked Ringo.


“I’m, I’m not sure if I’m ready,”


“Hey, you told me you’ve admired planes forever,” Ringo’s voice hushed, “When you were in England,”


“I just don’t feel privileged enough,”


Ringo said, “There is always a first step to something,” he plucked a few strings, “How about we start you off with glider courses to get the feel,” he strummed some chords.


“How long have you been playing for?”


“What this?” he said, “Yes, many years,” Ringo continued, “I’m thinking of getting back into the music business,”


“Give me some tunes,”


"This is a song of my own, that I haven't felt true to perform,"


Ringo smiled and started strumming, “I was a highway man, along the coast roads I did ride,”


The song went on and Ant sat in amazement. That’s how Ant felt sometimes in what he described in the song. A man in many lives lost but is known. Known but is watched. Watched but is prayed. A man of many lives.



Click here to read the next chapter - Foreign

Edited by Coat.

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Mokrie Dela

One tip: When you change speaker, have the new dialog start on a new line - i had to read the interchange between ant and ross more than once before i figured it out tounge.gif


“Sorry, I didn’t offer you a cigar. Is that why you were coughing, to get my attention,” he exhaled slowly, “No... Thank you. I’m actually an asthmatic,” Ant said.

I suspect it's happened here.


Also, I dunno whether im having (another!) slow day, but didn't ross walk off down the hallway? Immediately after, ant "hushed" ross. How, if he's already walked off.



“How do we know if it’s…?” Ant interrupted as he hushed Ross.

again, if Ross just "disappeared down the hallway", how can Ant inturrupt, or hush him?



Overall this isn't bad, though i think it does need some editing and proof reading. There's some very minor mistakes (blind’s for example which should be blinds) but i wont highlight them, as every single writer in the world makes those mistakes and i've even see

n published books with them in!


In terms of the story though, I'm not seeing much direction in it. Again, it might be me being slow, but i'm not getting a sense that the story's going anywhere.


But all that said, Dont think i'm knocking it. It's good, but if anything it needs a good proof read and edit, a step that i have to confess to skipping myself in the past.

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Salt Lake City, they say it’s the second best to Vegas, with its shimmering salt desert and the inner city glory


The engine of the car blazed. They told me that he would be here, and he should be here.


What are they kidding themselves?


My target came into sight, standing unknowingly on the street corner. A little on the acceleration will do.


The city is old and brittle and stands on what is left of society today and nothingness of tomorrow.


Quickly, pull off the acceleration. What is he doing. Does he know we are here.


The unknown eye barely recognises the cities existence but let alone anyone living in it. Where is god when the claws of the crow burrow into your flesh while the world continues their lives on ant mode?


Might as well put the car in park, he's standing there without a clue. He's now looking down at his mobile, and I being watched?


Why was he born in the misfit of generations, where mistakes are always found but the miracle crawl away?


Great, he's moving onto the road. Push on the acceleration and wait for the impact.


Our human senses aren’t as stiff as the average canine for example, but we rather ignore what they see, in which what they are seeing is what humans seek, never grasping the concept, of the truth. Dogs live in the present always, while us humans never live a day without remembering the past.


"It's done,"




An axe divided the block of wood as Ant swayed it to and thro. The coldness of the dawn got to him and he quickly scavenged the wood before he entered his house. Inside, seated at the table, hunched over, was his brother writing. He never perturbed asking his younger brother on what he was writing, as he kept his creativity left inside a mug.


“Thanks for fetching the wood,” said Ant as he took his jacket off, “It’s getting colder and colder even living in the middle of the desert. It’s a joke, and these scientists say global warming is an issue,” Ants brother brushed off.


Ant bent down to light the fire and was eager. Soon, the room was lightened with warmth. The disturbance of the light and the powerfulness of the fire reminded Ant of the sun. It was man’s source to live but in random events, it viscously turns on you. Wherever you are, stuck in a barren desert for months or even blinded by its rays on a faraway battlefield.


The forces of gravity turned on Ant as he knocked over the swelling pot of ash. Everything was putting him on, edge including his brother whose emotions were bare,


“Ross, I just tipped over the ash tray,” but ignorance followed.


God only knew what he was writing but it must have been interesting.


He pounced up at the wall clock, trailed by the shuttering of the jets as the house quivered. Ant gripped his coat before he charged out the door onto the sidewalk and cupped his hands. Slowly, he blew to warm himself as his eyes took off into all directions. Whenever the jets were in preparation, Ant would race down to the railing of the airport and watch in amazement. His sneakers pounded against the icy pavement but his sights were set on the timing. Long strides were needed to keep his heart rate at tune. His heart jumped a beat when he beheld the aircraft that powered over the early morning neighbourhood.


A gent sat on a fold out chair, leading the railing, “Anthony, just in time,” the man welcomed, “Ringo, are you here at the crack of dawn to watch these machines?” he assumed.


Ant lunged to the wired fence and prized the roars from the sky in oar. He never distinguished the exact backstory of Ringo he was certainly timeworn enough to have fought in any past wars, but that topic descended from Ant’s mind as the F-18 Hornet lithered onto the runway. Burnt rubber from the landing flogged past the wing of the airstrip into their direction. The smoke triggered his senses to smear and a saliva lump sat in his throat that he swallowed.


“So, how’s Ross been?” Ringo pondered.


Anthony paused, “You know, he’s… he’s been writing,”, “Writing, like scripting a book?” he questioned. Ant turned as he rubbed his eyes to clear vision, “You know what, and I have no clue. Ever since we moved from Cornwall, he’s been real anxious,” but there was no reply.


If there was, it was distorted by the trebles of the aircrafts. They together, out looked to the airdrome until a thought clicked in Ants' mind and he was off. Gone before he had arrived,


“What’s the rush,” Ringo called without turning.


He continued running, out of breath to reply and followed his tracks home. The morning chill pierced his skin and the sweat from his blood slumped towards the ground. Ant’s lungs began to close; he knew that if he was out any longer that he would have had an asthma attack. The rattling of the keys in his pocket faintly distracted him from his mission. Without knowing, the keys vanished from his pocket. Ant regretted leaving the house unlocked with Ross home alone with guilt.


Out the corner of his eye, lay the keys to the house in the middle of the lonesome intersection. Without doubt, he ran towards to retrieve the chain. Fazing himself but forgetting to brace himself as his teeth gripped and his heart stopped, his head turned and the horn of an incoming car warned. Ant dropped onto his knees in which he kneeled only a foot away from an SUV. The luck that the car stopped was a miracle. No, a coincidence. Ant could have died that day, both from asthma attack, a powered SUV and the most relevant... from cowardliness. The fact that he left the homeland to live on enemy lines, was a coincidence.


The car horn beeped again and reality hit Ant,


“Kid, you seriously must have something wrong with you. Move,”


The sports car passed the frightened Anthony.


Just again, that thought had hit him. He got from his knees after he received the loose keychain and dashed back to the residence. Shaken, he worriedly wobbled the keys into the lock before the door busted open.


“Ross!" Ant blubbered, "Are you okay. I left the house unlocked,” He galloped through the house to find his brother where he last saw him. Innocently hunched over the table, writing. Paranoia seeped.


End Prologue


Click Here to read the next chapter - Peeping.

Edited by Coat.

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I've just read them both and, I can say, this is pretty good. There's a few grammar mistakes here and there, like spelling and tenses, but I'm going to assume English isn't your first language, so I'll let it slide.


You're building it up slow, introducing us to the characters and getting their characteristics. Anyway, I really hope you continue this, its got me hooked. Its kind of got me interested whether Ross has a mental illness or something, because he's been acting strange. So, yeah, keep it up and iron out those grammar issues!

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Great feedback again. And yes, English is the only language I speak but I guess I lack showing it when I write.


You totally get what I'm doing. I want to slowly introduce the characters and give you a snapshot of their characteristics. The question about Ross having mental issues, if you're truly hooked, you continue to read it and find out.


If you haven't noticed, I am also introducing the story slowly as well. Next chapter, I'll proof read it several times. I hope I've got some people attracted to the story.

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The question about Ross having mental issues, if you're truly hooked, you continue to read it and find out.

I guess I feel that way because he acts strangely about the fire and Ant seems to be constantly worried about him. He's probably the most interesting character you've got here, imo.

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The question about Ross having mental issues, if you're truly hooked, you continue to read it and find out.

I guess I feel that way because he acts strangely about the fire and Ant seems to be constantly worried about him. He's probably the most interesting character you've got here, imo.

The character that has something to hide, also seems to be the most interesting. I'd tell you my favourite character so far, but that'd distract the reader. I've looked over 'Peep' and have found the errors. I was actually writing that late at night while my Dad had the television on, (listening to sporting commentators' scream) but like I said, I'll proof next time.

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I noticed some gramatical mistakes, but the language you use is good, a good variation and you do paint a decent picture. judging from the flag on your profile english isn't your first language so you've done a great job.

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I noticed some gramatical mistakes, but the language you use is good, a good variation and you do paint a decent picture. judging from the flag on your profile english isn't your first language so you've done a great job.

Thanks, but like I said, I speak English. I just liked the look of that flag so I think I'm going to change it to where I'm from.

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Edited by Coat.

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Edited by Coat.

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The dialogue and interactions between the characters are so well done. It feels authentic.


When you are describing things and what's going on in the story, it almost reads as if you've written them exactly as you thought them out. That means it can range from rhythmic and clever, to confused and jumpy. I'm not saying you should stop your style, but rather just proofread after you've finished. That way, you can keep the great describing parts and fix up the grammatical mistakes and such.



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the airport runway was soon covered by a thick layer of fog.

Maybe they live in Silent Hill. Certainly explains a lot.



“You alright Ross,”

This should clearly be a question. Ant isn't making a statement, asking a question, even though it doesn't start with What, How etc. It should be "You alright Ross?"


Yeah this was pretty good, its slowly paced but that just keeps up the tension up. There's a storyline coming along now with Ant and Ringo and that's making me interested. Can't wait for the next piece

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Two- Foreign



“You can’t talk like that around here,” said Sandra, “Work on your accent,”


Ant shrugged, “I’ve been practising on my accent and I don’t care anymore,”


Ross thought poorly of this, “If you don’t keep it up, you’ll end up in the jail house Ant,” Sandra looked at Ant.


“What’s the point,” he threw his arms in the air, “We shouldn’t even be here in the first place,”


“So you’re telling me you’d rather be over in England were ash falls from the sky and the snow is red,” Sandra yelled.


Ant said, “Perhaps you forgot one thing, the reason I moved here,” Ross looked startled, “I didn’t want to move here in the first place, and you telling me how serve it is over there is wrong,”


“I’d have to agree with Ant,” added Ross, “We don’t even have television. How are we suppose to know what’s happening in the world,”


Sandra began to walk down the hallway towards the door, “It’s both for your own good,” she walked outside to the driveway with her hands on her hips, “You coming Anthony, Ringo will be waiting,”



Ant dazed out the car window up at the telegraph poles and the lined trees along the pleasant streets. He then turned his head into Sandra’s direction; behind her, the airport barbed fence. He wasn’t happy with her attitude, and he wasn’t happy with what his own attitude was. Ant was simply upset with his life.


“You ready for your glider course?” she asked.


“Yeah, I’m pretty positive,” Ant lied. The entire morning was terrible and he was starting to get tired of listening to the same album of The Doors over and over. Better yet, he was anxiously nervous with negative thoughts.


Sandra turned down the street towards the airport gates, “What’s Ringo like?”


Ant had to think, “What do you mean?” he asked.


She looked puzzled, “Like, his personality,”


They quickly approached Gate five, “Quick, stop,” yelled Ant. The car skidded along the cold road to a halt. “This is the place,” he said, “And here comes Ringo,”


Ringo dressed differently that morning. Perhaps it was the orange and blue jumpsuit that gave him that thought. Sandra winded down the window and shook Ringo’s hand, “I’m Ringo, nice to meet you. I’ll be looking after Anthony today as I’m his instructor for his gliding course,”


Sandra smiled, “Yeah, thank you. Look, I’m late for work,”


Ant closed the car door behind him. Before he could close it, she accelerated and the door slammed shut as she sped down the narrow street. Ringo looked over at Ant, standing there motionlessly, “Did you have a bad morning son?” he asked.


Ant slightly grinned, “It was average,”



They had entered the airport gate and began walking across a safe part of the runway adjacent to the fence. Metres down the runway, was a group of people dressed in jumpsuits outside of a hanger. Ant had a feeling that they were heading in that direction.


Ringo gave him a pair of ear muffs, “It gets dangerously loud this close to these planes,”


A jeep was parked in the centre of the runway to pick them up. Inside, sat another youngster who looked about Ants age and the kids instructor. Ringo shook the instructors’ hand, “Nice to see you kicking around John,” said the man. John, a nick name maybe?


“Yeah, I’ll be training this young man here today,” said Ringo.


“Nice to meet you boyo, what’s the name,” the instructor asked, with a strong American accent.


“Anthony,” he said, “But you can just call me Ant,”


The man smiled, “Ant aye. What’s that suppose to mean, you work well with groups?” Ant smiled and looked over at the anxious kid.


“This is Roger, it’s his first time as well,” said the man.


The jeep stopped at the runway intersection waiting for a Cessna 208 to land. Ringo knocked Ant on the arm, “Maybe you can fly one of those one day,” Ant chuckled, only because he couldn’t hear what he was saying with the muffs on. The vehicle stopped outside the hanger and everyone exited. Ant looked at the anxious kid again.


“Roger and his father usually come flying weekends here so he’s familiar with the air space,” the instructor tried to boast, looking at Roger.


“Sir, I’ve been a pilot for 45 years, and have been very familiar with this airport for seven years now,” said Ringo.


“How come I never see you then?” he asked.


Ringo replied, “Simply because I observe from the outside and understand really what matters on the inside,”


The man laughed, “You’re telling me that you sit outside the airport and watch the planes and know the channels and planes which fly in them?” he laughed some more.


“That’s correct,” said Ringo.


Everyone was hushed down and was seated inside the hanger to listen to the leader of this squad. “Welcome everyone. I’m happy to invite everyone on this aviator journey and watch the virgins take their first step into piloting,” the leader went on for a few more minutes before everyone was offered a drink of water and a small snack and then were lead outside the hanger so the instructors could pick the gliders of choice.


“Look at that one, can we get in that one?” Roger said in a British accent.


His instructors face shrunk, “Luckily no one heard that. Speak with our accent, don’t talk like that alright,” he whispered.


Ant didn’t feel so along now. He knew that Ross and he weren’t the only British people living in Salt Lake. Ant trusted Ringo that he’d keep the secret but he wasn’t sure how longer it could hold before the Americans knew their enemy was in their country.


Click here to read the next chapter - Roger That.

Edited by Coat.

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Mokrie Dela

i have to agree with everyone now that the dialog is good. But some of the narration and descirption, i dunno it seems to be missing something, but i've no idea what. As mentioned before, I'm still wanting that big question. I'm not asking myself "whats he want" or anything i want an answer to. I am merely observing and feel slightly detatched.


Also you don't always need to say "he said" especially if only two people are talking. I only use "he said" or other versions of it if i, A - want to express how the character has said something (shouted, whispered, lied etc), or B need to inform the reader who is talking "Bob said."


The dialog itself though, apart from the odd grammatical mistake or typo, is good and i can believe the characters saying it.


I agree with Linki though - parts of the description/narrative are brilliant: i loved the bit about "You just have to learn the A-B-C and then you can do the X-Y-Z,” but at times it does feel a bit clumsy.

Proof reading is still a good idea, but on the whole this is a good piece of work. Keep working on it smile.gif

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I just read a sample of Justice in Flames and I know now, I need a deeper description. Thanks for the feedback as well! Just a quick question, In your Justice in Flames, you have a table layout for your chapters. Is it okay if I replicate that for mine. If so, would you be able to create the chapter table for me. Setting it up looks difficult.

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Mokrie Dela

It can be tricky at first but its quite simple.


firstly you need to have the table tags:




Note that you can have a bordered table (tableb) or a non bordered table (table). Also every tag has an open one and and ending one, much like bold or italic tags ( [XXX][/XXX])


Then you need to have a table row tag.




And a table divider tag.




For every ROW, you need a [t r] tag. Then end it with [ /tr]. Inside each row you need a divider tag - [ td] [ /td]


So if you want a table that's three rows and three dividers (columns):

[tableb]Row 1, Div1.Row 1, Div2.Row 1, Div3.Row 2, Div1.Row 2, Div2.Row 2, Div3.Row 3, Div1.Row 3, Div2.Row 3, Div3.[/tableb][table]Row 1, Div1.Row 1, Div2.Row 1, Div3.Row 2, Div1.Row 2, Div2.Row 2, Div3.Row 3, Div1.Row 3, Div2.Row 3, Div3.[/table]


The above will look like:

Row 1, Div1. Row 1, Div2. Row 1, Div3.
Row 2, Div1. Row 2, Div2. Row 2, Div3.
Row 3, Div1. Row 3, Div2. Row 3, Div3.


Row 1, Div1. Row 1, Div2. Row 1, Div3.
Row 2, Div1. Row 2, Div2. Row 2, Div3.
Row 3, Div1. Row 3, Div2. Row 3, Div3.
When creating tables i like having each "TR" on a new line, to help seperate them, but it doesnt matter.


Finally headers:


[tableb]HEADER 1Row 1, Div1.Row 1, Div2.Row 1, Div3.HEADER 2Row 2, Div1.Row 2, Div2.Row 2, Div3.HEADER 3Row 3, Div1.Row 3, Div2.Row 3, Div3.[/tableb][table]HEADER 1Row 1, Div1.Row 1, Div2.Row 1, Div3.HEADER 2Row 2, Div1.Row 2, Div2.Row 2, Div3.HEADER 3Row 3, Div1.Row 3, Div2.Row 3, Div3.[/table]


HEADER 1 Row 1, Div1. Row 1, Div2. Row 1, Div3.
HEADER 2 Row 2, Div1. Row 2, Div2. Row 2, Div3.
HEADER 3 Row 3, Div1. Row 3, Div2. Row 3, Div3.


HEADER 1 Row 1, Div1. Row 1, Div2. Row 1, Div3.
HEADER 2 Row 2, Div1. Row 2, Div2. Row 2, Div3.
HEADER 3 Row 3, Div1. Row 3, Div2. Row 3, Div3.
the tags [ th] work in the same way as [ td] but offer different colour.


From then on it's like building lego. Row by row, with column dividers inside.



1 2 3 4
You could get creative if you want too:


1 2 3 4

Simple once you get the hang of it.

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Three- Roger That


Ant stared around the cockpit. He looked over his shoulder into the second cockpit were Ringo sat. His face focused onto the runway ahead of them. Ringo had to trust Ant, and vice-versa. They were both first to take off in the gliders. The first to do something is also the climax of the entire experience. Ringo’s hands tightened onto the joystick control.


Ringo muttered into his headset, “Flappers 1... Check, flappers 2... Check... Outburn...Check...”

“B-22 here; is the runway a clear to take off?” asked Ringo.


Ant gazed around the cockpit. Not understanding the controls and felt himself dumbfounded. All the gizmos in the world were placed into this control panel.


“B-22, that’s a negative,” the control tower responded.


“Learn the ABC. I never remembered learning the alphabet being this hard,” said Ant. Ringo rolled his eyes knowing that all the controls in his cockpit were for experienced pilots. He also paused at the fact that Ant hadn’t touched a single control yet.


“Grip the joystick, clear your mind and I’ll give instructions,”


Ant followed the orders. His hands began to quiver. Shake. His palms began to perspire. He leant back, using his entire mite to keep the grip. What if I fail to hold the controls until flight? Ants’ heart raced and jumped out of sync. His adrenal glands released a load of adrenaline into his system. He began to feel light headed. Ringo, sitting behind him couldn’t help, but noticed his students’ abnormal behaviour.


“Hang in there,” he said. Ringo felt worried for Ant. They hadn’t even taken off and he was stressing. Ringo breathed slowly to clear his mind. He shut his eyes for a while, before opening them and staring down the strips of the runway, past the city and out into the barren mountain range. Ringo lost interest in holding the joy, and unravelled his wrist watch so that they would be no distractions what-so-ever.


“B-22, you a clear for takeoff when you’re ready,” voiced through Ringo’s headset.


Ringo looked to his right, and gave the staff outside, a thumbs up. The ground staff hauled a hook towards the front of the glider and attached it. Ant wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he put his faith in Ringo.


“Alright kid. The GFS outside have just attached the hook which will be attached to a car,”


Anthony nodded, “Alright. I just want to get off ground as soon as we can,”


Ringo smiled, “All good things come with patience,” he added, “Okay. We will both pull the joy towards us as we take off. I’ll hold back first and on the count of three, you slowly pull back,”


The car roared and was heard even inside the glider. Ant decided to use the gloves that sat on top of the complex dashboard. He couldn’t help but be angry with Ross and Sandra for ruining his morning. He knew that Sandra was holding something back but hesitated to say it. He knew it. It was the tension. And the thing was, Ross seemed to know what she was thinking. Ant had a feeling that what she was saying about England was not the entire truth.


All these thoughts bubbled over and before he knew it, the car had passed them and began dragging them along the runway. Ringo peered over into Ants’ cockpit to see what he was doing. Ant began pulling back before order.


“Anthony, let go of the joy,” he yelled.


Ant couldn’t help but think about the lie that they were hiding from him. He felt like he was suffocating. The drowsiness was coming along again. He had never been in an aircraft, but was prone to motion sickness.


Ringo called again, “Let go of the joy Ant!”


Ant kept blacking out. His emotions were fuzzy; like moments after you’ve just awoken. He could hear echoing noises and his vision was awkward. He blanked out again and leaned dangerously towards the right. Still in most control of the glider. Ringo felt an enormous pull towards the far right lane were commercial planes land.


“B-22, what’s your situation?” asked the control tower.


Ringo didn’t have time to spare to reply. He didn’t think things could have got worse, but he only realised that the hook hadn’t detached and the control to detach it was in Ants’ cockpit.


“Damn,” Ringo heaved , “Wake up Ant!”


Ant blinked a few times and he was aware of what was happening. The glider was spinning uncontrollably around commercial airspace with a car attached with them. It was total mayhem. The car was airborne meters off the ground. Luckily, they were warned seconds before it was lifted off the ground. The car doors hung wide open, grinding up against the turf.


“Any second now Ant, and that door down there is going to snag against the ground and we’ll be pulled to our deaths,” warned Ringo. Ant almost blacked out for a fourth time but a loud beeping sound inside the cockpit kept him in a stable position. He stared all the way down at the dangling vehicle.


“Yes, I’m here Ringo. Give me the situation,” Ant responded wearily.


“Thank heavens. Listen carefully...” he was interrupted by a loud crush outside the glider. One of the car doors snapped off and was thrown meters down the airstrip. The jolt alerted Ant and his gloves got caught inside a crease, just below the dashboard.


Ringo, unaware of Ants disability gave him orders he couldn’t take, “We only have about a minute before we leave the airport space and glide over the neighbourhood,”


Anthony felt hopeless, useless. Their death was only a few mere minutes, perhaps seconds away.


Click here to read the next chapter - Roger That: Part II (Icebreaker).

Edited by Coat.
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Four - Roger That: Part II


“Land isn’t that long away,” mumbled a voice. They stood on the side ledge of a shipping boat, both knowing that freedom was miles away. It had been hard for them out at sea, for many months. Ant turned his back for one second to view ‘what seemed to him’ to be his God; the boat. It wasn’t much, hell, it was unlicensed but it had spirit. A few shipping containers sat in the centre of the ship while the captains lookout sat at the far back of the boat. He turned again to face the sea, to see the coastline that viewed distant mountain ranges and a docking yard. It didn’t look much like England, but it was his new home.

“Are we going to make it,” whimpered Ross.





He didn’t notice he had fainted again but the scary thing was that he lost track of realisation. Ants’ head lay back, facing out of the cockpits glass emergency exit capsule. Clouds above danced around, in formation and every few seconds of rotation, the suns glare would block this natural performance. If he was lucky, he would see Salt Lake City from a bird’s eye view. They say drowning is the most peaceful death of all, but Ant had to disagree. Floating and dropping… gliding, out of the atmosphere had to be the most soothing; that is, if you’ve lost consciousness. As for Ringo, his forehead was covered in a thick layer of sweat and his wrist watch was rattling aggressively on the dashboard. He knew that Ant wasn’t fully aware of the realism and seriousness of the situation. “Control tower, we have an unconscious student and his hands seem to disabling him to detach the pull car,” Ringo reported.


“Is that a positive on the situation B-22?” the tower responded.


“Positive,” he replied, leaning back and gripping the XGF-joy control. Ringo was becoming more and more light- headed as he pulled all these drastic G’s. At least, now he was in control of the glider but he knew there was no way of detaching the car. Back in Anthony’s cockpit, he began tugging at his gloves viscously. He slowly lost all energy as the blood from his brain was forced to his fingertips and toes and was on the verge of fainting again.



As for the rest of the students on the ground, they watched this glider carry a muscle car around the airports airspace helplessly. “This is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed,” the head leader muttered to himself. Most of the flight students began leaving in terror, and a plan needed to be made before the media arrived.


“Chrissy, get down to the admin a-s-a-p and call paramedics,” he ordered.


Ringo got the message from the tower about the paramedics. Not on my watch, he thought. Both of the trapped pilots could see that they were about to leave airport airspace any second. Ringo could barely keep his eyes open because of the extreme force. Glider wings aren’t made to be used under such forces like they experienced, and there was a huge change of these wings being torn off.

‘Come on John, think!’ Ringo thought to himself, ‘I’ve been in aviation for too long to go down like this. Think of a way to get out of here,’ then it snapped, not the metal cord attached from the glider to the car, but his memory recovered a piece of information.


He muted Ants’ headset and called the tower, “This is B-22, and this is my final request. Do gliders still have emergency detach peddle below the dashboard were the feet are placed?”


There was a short pause, “B-22, you are flying a CRUZ-HKT-202 model, yes, that emergency procedure is available,”

Ringo sighed in relief before un-muting his student, “Ant, listen to me, feel around below the dashboard with your feet now!” he ordered. Ringo looked over to see Ant fiddling around with his feet.


“Yeah, Ringo, I can feel some type of peddle?” Ant said.


“Hold that down, alright, just try to hold it down,”


It seemed as time stopped for a second and all their senses balanced back out. Ants’ head balanced back out and they were dramatically dropping vertically whilst banking. The chaos didn’t seem to stop. Ringo looked out his window to see the car detach and drop before sliding into the centre of the airport. Unexpectedly, Ringo’s joystick locked up, facing the far left. A voice from the dashboard called, “Banking, banking, banking,”. The gliding spun out of control, banking a hard left, descending vertically.


Ant reacted, pulling his joy in the opposite direction, balancing the glider.


“Sweet jesus,” Ringo muttered, putting his hands together as if he were praying, “This is B-22, we have full control and are landing now,”

Ringo pulled off his headgear and knocked on the glass of his cockpit, trying to get Ant’s attention. Ant turned around to see his mentor smiling with a thumbs up then a thumbs down, meaning landing. Ringo could finally relax and laugh, at the fact that they survived that, and also that Ant had the palest face and was positive that he blacked out again.


“What was that?” yelled the chief instructor. Anthony stood outside the CI room, waiting until Ringo was finished the insults and ranting that were thrown at him. He just felt awfully guilty, and he even felt worse when he saw Sandra’s car parked in the parking lot. She works as a post-woman, and that job isn’t the easiest. She was lucky to get it after some past criminal records.


“I can assure you, we weren’t in control of the glider,” Ringo yelled.


The CI sighed, “That just doesn’t cut it, John, it just doesn’t,” and he was correct, the laws the law. Nothings ever going to change. Some saw that rules are meant to be broken, and they try to break those laws, and they end up with dry hands, no shelter and a lack of self respect. You have no money, you have no nothing. There are laws in life, not just physical laws but many others. Expect Ringo and Ant just broke a physical law, and it wasn’t going to pass with ease.


“Look, I can’t do much.” Said the Chief Instructor, “Too many people saw what happened today.”

Ringo’s head dropped and he just shrugged, “I wasn’t in control.”


“You were the instructor at the time, and you were most defiantly in control.”


The CI continued, “We’ll be seeing you in Court in three weeks.” He handed Ringo a documented sheet and was ordered to leave the office with a drooping face. His face sort of reminded Ant of like a pug in a way. That thought soon changed when he gave Ant the news about the court facing. He knew that Ringo was heartbroken, knowing that any possible pilots licence he was able to obtain was impossible from now. From this stupid mistake, this stupid action. Well he suggested it, Ant thought as he tried to cover up the guiltiness.


“Kid, let’s leave before the word gets around.” He said shamefully.


They exited the office and were guarded down a staircase towards the runway. After all, it was an accident and Ant wasn’t in the mind condition at the time. Ringo picked up on that when the passed out.


“There was a reason I asked you if you had a bad morning.” Said Ringo who moved cautiously down the wet staircase.


Ant ignored Ringo. He was too worried to leave the airport without people pointing figures, and then the next obstacle was Sandra. More strangely, Ant had never had motion sickness like that before. He was on the sea for months, and motion sickness was rare. After thinking about it, it didn’t start with motion sickness, but a shortage of breath leading to hyperventilation. He was trying to think back before they got suited for the gliders but was distracted as a bunch of men in a hanger were cursing at them. One of them stood out from the group like a pencil in a crayon box. The man inhaled his cigarette lightly, and exhaled deeply. The smoke covered his face.


“Just ignore them and let’s just get you to the car shall we?” Ringo began to move faster and faster to the exit gate. Ant was still convinced that he had seen that man before; somewhere. He also was positive that the mystery man knew him as well. Anthony looked away, before slowly turning back to see if he was still in eye contact; and he was. It wasn’t much of a death stare, or any normal stare, but it was if as he was staring straight past him... into him. It were as if the rest of the men surrounding him faded out, and the spotlight was on him. They eagerly made it through the parking lot and made it to Sandra.


She smiled, “What trouble did youse fellas get in?”


Ringo asked, “Are you telling me you haven’t heard the news?”


Of course the media had heard the news and arrived as soon as they landed. They could have both denied it, but guilty they were. Ant looked inside the car, to see a guy sitting in the front passengers’ seat. Sandra kept her life personal; all Ant knew that she could have been working with the government. I mean after all, they were illegal immigrants. Even worse, he was an enemy to the Americans; including his brother Ross and the boy he had just met that day. The car horn abruptly honked...


“Come on, we have a party to get to.” The guy in the car called.


Then an idea came to mind. Ross had opened his big mouth and told Sandra valuable information about him and his family. Ross was like doe. You could mould him like doe and he’d give you what you wanted to know. After that fall he had back in the Cornwall schoolyard, and badly hitting his head, extracting information like that would be like bread and butter. The horn beeped again;

“C’mon, it’s five thirty, we should be there now.”


Ringo had wandered off and it was time to go. Time to leave the mayhem behind, but what he didn’t leave behind was the truth. That wasn’t motion sickness he had.


“What’s his problem?” the guy asked.


Sandra looked over her shoulder, and glimpsed at Ant. As if to say, what you did today was incredibly stupid and now the entire town know of your existence. He couldn’t help but over obses about everything.


“He looks like he’s hiding something?” the kid asked as he chewed a tooth pick.


Sandra looked at the guy as if to say, shut up. She had a face for everything, or perhaps we interpreted them in our own way. But it didn’t matter, Ant was hiding something, and so was she.


“Anthony, I’m going to have to drop you off.” She said.


“Don’t go to that trouble. Just drop me off at the party and I’ll walk home.”


The guy turned around, “Tony, is that your name?”


Ant nodded.


“You don’t wanna be at this party. It’s not for kids.”

Ant rolled, “I’m twenty.”


Sandra butted in, “It’s true.”


The guy turned back around without any signs of humiliation.


“He’s right though, it’s a big party. Violence, drugs...”


Ant interrupted, “Drugs?”


The guy joked, “Yeah, drugs, didn’t you learn them in school.”


Sandra knocked him in the arm and continued, “Yes, drugs. Like roofies.”


Ant had to think for a second. He hadn’t heard of it before, so he guessed it was new or was created in America. He then pondered on what effects it had but couldn’t come up with anything. Marijuana had the chilled effect, Speed was true to its name, and magic mushroom gave psychedelic effects.


“What are the effects?”


“It’s known as a date rape type of drug Ant.”


He didn’t reply as she didn’t answer his question.


The guy interrupted, “It basically removes your memory and totally wrecks your system.”


“Shut up Tyler, I was telling the story.” Sandra said as she turned into the street filled with people dancing and music playing. Ant could only comprehend one thought at a time, as he was slow by nature, and his mind was still set on Roofies and the effects it had. They were very similar to the effects Ant had that day.

Edited by Coat.

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I have mixed opinions on the narrative itself, because I both love and hate it. I love that it's got a slow pace, that it's building from character and rising to more excitement, but I hate that it isn't really laying in too many hooks. I want to be asking more questions! In something so slow, the more mysteries you can introduce to draw in our attention, the better... as long as it doesn't become confusing. tounge.gif


Right now, my favourite part of this is the backstory: what's happening with the war, and how did they end up getting to America? The snippet about the boat ride especially has me intrigued. So that's an example of how you're setting up these mysteries perfectly. I just think there needs to be a little more intrigue; something that really drives the story forward, even when it's slow-paced.


I did enjoy the scenario with the plane and the hanging car. Ramps up the adrenaline well and is a perfect moment to offset the earlier character building. It's good to have these set-pieces to help build the flow of the story.


The dialogue, as ever, is good. But the proofreading problems remain. Virtually every other line I'm spotting typos where the wrong word has been used (like saying viscously instead of viciously) - things that a spellchecker won't pick up on, because it's still a legitimate word. Little punctuation errors, other grammatical things. One or two here and there are fine, but they're popping up far too frequently, and it completely takes you out of the story. I really think you need to go over it with a fine toothcomb before considering it finished, because right now it all feels a little rough around the edges.


But that's easily fixed! Keep it up; I'm intrigued by much of the backstory, and that's the most important thing.

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I have to agree that I rarely proof-read my chapters. I usually try to go over them afterwards- long after they are posted. Only because I want to get the next chapter out to read before I loose interest in continuing it. As you spotted, I'm building the characters up slowly with intention. I find myself confussed sometimes when I'm watch a television series and for a few episodes, you have no clue on what's happening; everything happens way too quickly as well. That's why I'm climaxing the story.


I'm happy someone has spotted the backstory (I wasn't entirely sure if anyone was aware). I want the backstory to build as the characters become more vivid. I want the reader to be able to know a characters next move. That's the best part about writing it that way; the reader is thinking ahead on what's going to be the consequence. The backstory plays a massive role; so expect more and more snipets from Ant's memory. Ah, also, instead of focussing most of thinking and viewing on Anthony, you might have realised that Ringo now has his opinion in the dialogue.


Thanks for the feedback and expect more chapters soon!




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Sorry for the double post but I want to inform everyone that AceRay is now taking part in writing Pesant Blurs; next chapter will be up soon.

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Mokrie Dela
Sorry for the double post but I want to inform everyone that AceRay is now taking part in writing Pesant Blurs; next chapter will be up soon.


What exactly is his role? Is he helping you through the editin and proof reading stage or are you both co writing it? Not sure I've seen any cowritten work up here before



To add to what eminence said about raising questions, but nt being too confusing; I think a small amount of confusion may be good. I've read a few books where I've failed to see the connection between story threads (which is later revealed to me) and I've felt a little confused. Reading A Scanner Darkly for the first time, I said to myself 'wtf is going on??' but that confusion kept me reading for an explanation.


Perhaps confusion isn't the right word, perhaps it's too strong, and the technique is very tricy - lay too much and the reader will give up. But even with some confusion going on you new to make sure the readers got something they can follow - Tom clancy's books (the sum of all fears, debt of honour) are examples of this I think - multiple story thread that at first seem random but ultimately come together and make you go 'ah!'

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Sorry for the double post but I want to inform everyone that AceRay is now taking part in writing Pesant Blurs; next chapter will be up soon.


What exactly is his role? Is he helping you through the editin and proof reading stage or are you both co writing it? Not sure I've seen any cowritten work up here before

My boy Coat just PMed me and asked whether I wanted to write some. So, here I am. I just PMed him my latest chapter and I'll post it tomorrow if its okay. I guess its pretty good, although we'll see where it goes.

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Seven: The Overpass


Dark stars dotted the black, dead sky, clouds booming overhead, a subtle fog setting in the cold air. The graffiti-ridden overpass towered above those below it, encasing the shadow figures in its immense girth. There was silence, except for the occasional roar of a big rig overhead and slow crackle of the fires. The figures, hovering around the flames, would whisper subtle curses under their dry lips, light burning in their tired faces and long shaggy beards.


The hooded figure moved to the site, clutching a phone card in his coarse hands, kicking off the sea of plastic bags that littered the rough pavement. He looked up, the overpass just as intimidating as before. In his mind, he heard the crackle of old bones, and a short, loud scream in the distance, just over the horizon or around the dark corner. He took his hanky, ran it over his young face when suddenly the man jumped at the sudden beeping from his watch. Midnight. This was the time.


None of the shadowy figures took notice of the crunching footsteps behind them, instead concentrating on keeping warm in their shaggy, patched clothes. They could tell he wasn’t from around here, as their murmuring indicted. The hooded man looked over at the hobos and pitied their worthless lives, when without warning; a rig flew by above him, noise ringing through his ear. As he leant against a pole to support himself, his eyes lay upon the dark figure resting on the ground, a dark green army jacket covering his broad shoulders, a small mohawk on his head with fuzzy side burns down his sides and thick mouldy lips covering his green teeth.


Their eyes met, just for a second, until the figure on the ground averted his gaze back to the dirt in quiet reflection. He did not move an inch, just thought intensely about his own fate. Not a single motion of panic affected his pulse as the young man walked towards the dirt, threw the phone card on the ground and sat his sorry rear next to him. He knew that this was the guy who had contacted him earlier. They sat there in silence for an hour, just watching the hobos near the fire bustle about their mystic ways as silent ghosts hovered amongst the mist just beyond them. They both knew what they were here for. Finally, the young man removed his hood, revealing his short, black hair and pointy nose.


Slowly rotating his head to older man, he moved his lips in a dry, crusty manner, trying to form appropriate words. The other man wiped his face with his palm, roughing it with his thick stubble, trying to get a tear out. In the end he gave up and slumped back into place, waited anxiously for ten agonizing minutes. Who was this man and why was he here? Furthermore, how did he get that stuff? At last, the young man managed to stumble out a few words.


“I... heard you could help me,” at this, the man got tense at the sudden noise, slowly reaching for his pocket. The young man’s heart started booming as he cowered in fear at the long awaited bullet. But it never came. Instead, when he came to, he saw the man smoking a crummy joint, shaking dirt out of his hair.


“You Ant, I suppose,” spit flew from his mouth as he spoke, followed by a puff of smoke. Ant sheepishly nodded his head as the racing fear inside him subsided. “I guess you want to know how you got blazed, huh?” he let out another puff of smoke. “Name’s Georges, by the way,” Any maintained his silence, simply watching the older guy enjoy the light up. “Well son, I’ll tell ya. It couldn’t have been roofies, no, they don’t have the same effects really.”


“What do you mean?” Ant queried. Georges threw the joint on the ground and pulled an old bottle from the dirt, tossing it to Ant.


“Piss into this.”


“Why do…” Ant started until another vigorous big rig from above shook him off balance, Georges staying still just looking at the kid in a disapproving manner. Ant quietly left the others and tried as hard as he could to get some out behind a bush. Another ten minutes later, he returned like a shameful old mutt, clasping a yellow liquid in his hands.


“Now you see this?” Georges said as he inspected the glass vividly with his left finger. “Too many bubbles, tinted slightly brown and smells a bit funny, like a three day old kebab mixed with egg yolk. This can be only one thing.”


“What’s that?”


“Karva,” and the ground shock as he spoke that forsaken word, a rig once again thundering down the motorway above and making Ant off balance again. Ant was stupefied. “Crazy drug from out east. Pretty rare, although I don’t touch the stuff. And believe me, I’ve done some crazy sh*t in my day,” Georges paused and looked out on the skyline of Salt Lake city for about five minutes until he tossed the piss bottle away into the bushes, turning back to Ant. “There’s a couple of guys who have it, out near Tooele, I suggest you go there if you want to know more,” he took a beer out from his jacket and started drinking. “I wouldn’t bother, unless you’re interested in getting your head blown off, they might not even have it anymore, last I saw of it was a couple of years ago,” Ant heard his words but it didn’t change what he felt. It didn’t change anything. He had his mind focused solely on revenge for whoever did this to him. Ant brushed himself off and stood up, turned to the old guy on the ground again.


“Will this be where I’ll find you again?” Georges nodded slowly, opening his mouth slowly, his blue eyes lazily glaring into empty space.


“Stay safe,” Georges words boomed through Ant’s head as he turned away, leaving almost as quickly as he got there, pushing through the hobos and slowly disappearing into the night.

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Mokrie Dela

That first paragraph doesn't do it for me. I can't put my finger on it, but something feels off.


The rest of the work though, i like. Good job painting the scenes - the bit where he's holding the card and walking toward the overpass was good, i really felt like i was there so good job on that.


The change of style's apparant, and at first it was a bit of a shock (perhaps why i didn't like the first chapter) but over all good work - i could clearly see the world you described.

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