Exhaustion finally hit, so Ash laid down. As he stared at the ceiling of the prison cell he thought, the confine of the prison is actually kind of nice. It's safe here, less noise to shut out. No clouds. Maybe I'll like prison. Then the dust that so often followed others started seeping into the cell and swirling around him until darkness overtook him.
Brightness stung his eyes as he came back to the world of the living. He rolled over but pulled back suddenly when his skin touched the edge of the wall. The cold surface shocked him further awake, was it metal?
Ash's vision refused to return properly at first, but as he adjusted he found himself in a white-permeated room. After further examination, the walls were made of a hard metal, painted in high-gloss white, with no seams anywhere to be seen. A soft hissing sound came from overhead. He tried to see where it was coming from but the thousand tiny lights were too bright to see past, maybe the air conditioner. A white cardboard box sat on a thin snow-white metallic table in a small space covered in white painted titanium walls. The monochromatic nature of the room, combined with the hissing and brightness were a disorienting combination.
"How did I get here?” Ash said out loud. The slight echo of his voice his only reply.
Looking down he noticed for the first time he wearing a white form-fitting uniform. A single thick black stripe ran down the side of both arms and legs. It was like spandex, full body style. His pale southern sunburn looked worse against the white fabric. Despite years in hot arid climates, he could never hold a tan. Disorientation started to settle down and he found his bearings to stand. He walked the ten by ten room, feeling the wall for a seam or any indication that there was an opening.
Finding no escape, thoughts move to business, take stock. Name/Rank: "Captain Therun Ashland, USAF”, he said out loud again. He waited for some kind of movement or someone to address him through a speaker system, but he received no such response. Taking inventory of his body, every part was accounted for, legs, arms, toes, fingers, the scar on his neck under his left ear. No pains, other than the usual.
Ash tried to recall his last memory before finding himself in this room, but he couldn't seem place a specific memory. His mind was empty of anything more relevant than Name/Rank. Obviously he'd been handled before arriving here and must be under surveillance this very moment. There were no apparent doors or windows and no way to defend against attack without knowing where the openings are. Then again if he were going to be killed he would be in some dank dark prison cell not this whitewashed room in some overly tailored biking suit. Still, better to be defensive and keep himself against a wall ready to react.“Bring it in Ash, bring yourself together… What is the last thing you recall? The last solid memory was opening an invitation to meet with General Akbar and walking down the hall to his office. There was no other memory. He woke up here.
The box on the table was the only thing in the room with him, besides the table itself, which seemed to be built into the floor. He approached the table cautiously. The legs and table appeared to be built of high strength metal, not breakable by hand. He gave the table a shove putting his weight behind it, not even a budge. The package seemed like any US Post Office shipping box-minus the labels. It was sealed in white duct tape end to end.
Ash peeled at the tape slowly, ready to react to its contents. This box was obviously here for him, it was the only thing in the room, and no-one had reacted to his being awake. Laying the tape aside he opened the lid and found an iPhone, neatly wrapped in plastic. He opened the bag and turned on the phone.
It booted silently- then he heard the sound of metal scraping.
Voices
Keys in a gate, or latch... the sound seemed to come from everywhere...Then Ash woke up, silently. As though he'd been awake for hours. He took a deep breath which completed the transition to morning. He was sweating slightly, but not drenched. He could hear voices down the hall but couldn't make our the words. Two sets of shoes approached, one heavy footed male, Bobby if he wasn't mistaken. The other clicked and clacked, high heels if he wasn't mistaken.
"He's right through here. I can't let you in, but there's a chair by the door." It was Bobby, that one for two.
"Thanks, Bobby," the voice was female and familiar. "I really appreciate your letting me see him." Grace rounded the corner first, followed by Bobby in Uniform. Gone was the jogging outfit and red hoodie, replaced by a red blazer, black pencil skirt, and red high heels. Two for two.
Bobby brought the chair over and set it by the door of the cell, then tipped his Ashland PD Ball Cap and left. Grace took a seat and pulled a yellow legal pad and pen from her bag. He hair was pulled back in a pony tail still, but the loose strand from yesterday was now fully tucked away. She glanced over her shoulder and watched Bobby shut the outer hallway door, then turned back and gave Ash a weak and somewhat pathetic smile.
"Do I look that bad?" Ash asked and sat up on the edge of the bed to face her.
"I'd say you looked a fair bit better yesterday," Grace replied. "I hope you don't mind. They let me in when I said I was a friend, and flashed my reporter 'get anywhere you want' credentials."
"No," Ash said and started to chuckle at the absurdity of this second meeting. "I'd like some company to keep me in the land of the sane for just a little longer." He liked this person. Something about her was disarming and he felt the walls he'd spent so many years building crumble to the ground like old burned newspaper.
"So..." She hesitated. Her nose wrinkled and she bit her lip. Then she started again. "Have they told you what's going on yet?"
"Well," he started to say then shook his head. Where do I start? "I was attacked by a crazy homeless man, Frank, the day before yesterday. I had a horrible night that night, took several meds and drank until I passed out. The next morning my Glock 9mm was missing and Frank was dead. George confirmed the bullets were a match the gun registered in my name, the one that was missing but when I took George back to my house the Glock was suddenly back again. That's when George arrested me. Someone could have broken into my house last night, but all the possibilities around that make no sense. Who would have known I'd pulled the gun out that night, I usually keep them locked up. So now I'm starting to think I went sleep walking, half way across town to another hillside, and killed a homeless man... in my sleep? That doesn't make any sense either. I must sound nuts... huh?" Ash couldn't tell if she was reacting to any of this, her expression looked worried before he started talking. She didn't seem any more surprised, so that's was a consolation.
"I don't think you did it," She said. "I have reason to believe that something else is happening here, I just haven't put my finger on it yet. You, my friend, are at the epicenter of it. Congratulations," Grace said and put her notebook down. "You just got a living shadow. I'm not leaving your side until we figure this out." She forced a smile, and tilted her head back in a show of confidence.
"I hate to waste your time," Ash replied. The tiny window, high on the wall, revealed a few clouds rolling over the hills. It's getting darker by the second. He turned back to Grace and replied, "...I really am a messed up guy, lots of psychiatric history, it really is possible, however unlikely, that I killed that guy. I guess you can at least get the exclusive interview, but I don't think I'm going anywhere."
"Maybe-" She started. "Let me ask you something, have you ever seen this man?" Grace pulled out a photo of a pudgy man with bald head and graying hair around the sides.
"Yes, actually, I think I have," Ash took the photo through the bars of the cell door and stared at it a moment. The picture caused the hair on the back of his neck and head to stand on end. "I met this guy yesterday, a doctor something."
"His name is Dr. Richard T. Briar PhD, author of a book entitled 'Unlocking the Paranormal Mind. A study of how the human mind’s unlocked potential', and he is a very bad man. What if I told you that it was he, and not you, who was responsible for the missing gun showing up again, and the death of the old homeless man?" Grace's eyes portrayed a stronger confidence in this statement than anything he'd seen from her yet, which encouraged him slightly.
"How is that possible?" He asked. "What would a scientist want with an old man, and why use my gun--" The revelation slowly dawned on him as plausible, the pieces fit better than anything he'd conjured so far. The easiest way to get away with killing someone was to frame it on someone else. "Oh... But... why kill an old homeless man?"
"Honestly," She said with a shrug, "I don't know. I haven't put that piece of the puzzle together. But I've actually been following this guy for several years. I believe he's been systematically assassinating random people around the country, and Frank was one of many more to come."
"That's an odd thing for a scientist to be involved in." Ash almost lost track of the fact he was sitting in a cell.
"That hulking guy in the turtleneck that follows Dr. Briar around..." Grace said and pulled out another photo, "... he's been with tagging along on these adventures for a few years now too. His name is Sven, I still can't get a last name. He usually shows up in town a few days after the doctor. Then, mysteriously, one or more people die within 48 hours."
"Hm..." Ash couldn't put his finger on it, but the story had a certain ring to it.
"So you can say 'thank you' now." Grace said, with a broad smile.
"Thank you for..." Ash felt puzzled by the statement.
"For saving your life," She said.
"Saving my life? I think you're jumping the gun a little, I'm still locked up."
"Not that. I mean," She mimed the action of a jogger knocking into him with her shoulder. "For knocking the coffee out of your hand yesterday. Sven bumped into you just outside the door of the coffee shop and dropped something that looked like white pills into your drink. I bumped into you to prevent you from drinking it...." She squirmed a bit in her chair. "And this is where I make a confession... My car didn't break down. I was at your house to see if you were still alive."
"Really?" Ash cocked his head and took a deep breath, trying to process this revelation.
"I've followed this guy around the country, but I usually ended up arriving after he'd made the kill. This is the first time I made it to a place before anyone died. This is my big breakthrough." Grace started to smile, then made a frown. "Now we just need to get you out of here."
"I can help with that." George walked up behind her without either of them noticing. "Turns out there are no prints on the gun or bullets, but we managed find a few prints in the house that were not yours. They came up with no hits, which is odd. They aren't yours or mine or Grace's here. I checked everywhere in and around the house, and there are signs that someone climbed down your roof and rappelled onto your balcony. The DA and I talked it over and he sent his own people out to confirm. You're blood tests came back with way too much sedative still in the system to have allowed you to make the trek out to the kill site yourself. The house has been sealed for evidence. He's asked for you not to leave town, but he says you are free to go for now. You'll need to get a hotel."
"George," Ash said. "You are a God-send. What would I do without you?"
"Don't thank me yet," George held up one hand as a warning. "This is enough to cast doubt on you being the killer, but not to remove you from the suspect list. You keep your head down and I'll let you know what I'm allowed to tell you when I'm allowed to tell you it. For now, stay low."
After a quick processing, Grace and Ash ere back on the sidewalk in front of the police station breathing the clean mountain air. The little hippy-town wasn't much to some, but it never felt more like home.
"Come on," She said. "Let's get another Ice Cream and I'll tell you more about my research. Then I can drive you back to your place." She held out her keys, pressed a round button, and a red BMW parked across the street beeped twice. "I really am sorry for lying to you yesterday. But it's kind-of part of the job for a reporter. I didn't know if you were trustworthy until now." She gave him a look that said she wasn't moving until he did.
"I understand," He didn't really totally understand, but it sounded like the right thing to say. Still, there was something about her he liked. Only George had managed to break that barrier before now, and she was better looking that George.
"I'll take you up on that Ice Cream," Ash said and led the way across the street."... and I'll raise you a coffee."
Read more ...
Brightness stung his eyes as he came back to the world of the living. He rolled over but pulled back suddenly when his skin touched the edge of the wall. The cold surface shocked him further awake, was it metal?
Ash's vision refused to return properly at first, but as he adjusted he found himself in a white-permeated room. After further examination, the walls were made of a hard metal, painted in high-gloss white, with no seams anywhere to be seen. A soft hissing sound came from overhead. He tried to see where it was coming from but the thousand tiny lights were too bright to see past, maybe the air conditioner. A white cardboard box sat on a thin snow-white metallic table in a small space covered in white painted titanium walls. The monochromatic nature of the room, combined with the hissing and brightness were a disorienting combination.
"How did I get here?” Ash said out loud. The slight echo of his voice his only reply.
Looking down he noticed for the first time he wearing a white form-fitting uniform. A single thick black stripe ran down the side of both arms and legs. It was like spandex, full body style. His pale southern sunburn looked worse against the white fabric. Despite years in hot arid climates, he could never hold a tan. Disorientation started to settle down and he found his bearings to stand. He walked the ten by ten room, feeling the wall for a seam or any indication that there was an opening.
Finding no escape, thoughts move to business, take stock. Name/Rank: "Captain Therun Ashland, USAF”, he said out loud again. He waited for some kind of movement or someone to address him through a speaker system, but he received no such response. Taking inventory of his body, every part was accounted for, legs, arms, toes, fingers, the scar on his neck under his left ear. No pains, other than the usual.
Ash tried to recall his last memory before finding himself in this room, but he couldn't seem place a specific memory. His mind was empty of anything more relevant than Name/Rank. Obviously he'd been handled before arriving here and must be under surveillance this very moment. There were no apparent doors or windows and no way to defend against attack without knowing where the openings are. Then again if he were going to be killed he would be in some dank dark prison cell not this whitewashed room in some overly tailored biking suit. Still, better to be defensive and keep himself against a wall ready to react.“Bring it in Ash, bring yourself together… What is the last thing you recall? The last solid memory was opening an invitation to meet with General Akbar and walking down the hall to his office. There was no other memory. He woke up here.
The box on the table was the only thing in the room with him, besides the table itself, which seemed to be built into the floor. He approached the table cautiously. The legs and table appeared to be built of high strength metal, not breakable by hand. He gave the table a shove putting his weight behind it, not even a budge. The package seemed like any US Post Office shipping box-minus the labels. It was sealed in white duct tape end to end.
Ash peeled at the tape slowly, ready to react to its contents. This box was obviously here for him, it was the only thing in the room, and no-one had reacted to his being awake. Laying the tape aside he opened the lid and found an iPhone, neatly wrapped in plastic. He opened the bag and turned on the phone.
It booted silently- then he heard the sound of metal scraping.
Voices
Keys in a gate, or latch... the sound seemed to come from everywhere...Then Ash woke up, silently. As though he'd been awake for hours. He took a deep breath which completed the transition to morning. He was sweating slightly, but not drenched. He could hear voices down the hall but couldn't make our the words. Two sets of shoes approached, one heavy footed male, Bobby if he wasn't mistaken. The other clicked and clacked, high heels if he wasn't mistaken.
"He's right through here. I can't let you in, but there's a chair by the door." It was Bobby, that one for two.
"Thanks, Bobby," the voice was female and familiar. "I really appreciate your letting me see him." Grace rounded the corner first, followed by Bobby in Uniform. Gone was the jogging outfit and red hoodie, replaced by a red blazer, black pencil skirt, and red high heels. Two for two.
Bobby brought the chair over and set it by the door of the cell, then tipped his Ashland PD Ball Cap and left. Grace took a seat and pulled a yellow legal pad and pen from her bag. He hair was pulled back in a pony tail still, but the loose strand from yesterday was now fully tucked away. She glanced over her shoulder and watched Bobby shut the outer hallway door, then turned back and gave Ash a weak and somewhat pathetic smile.
"Do I look that bad?" Ash asked and sat up on the edge of the bed to face her.
"I'd say you looked a fair bit better yesterday," Grace replied. "I hope you don't mind. They let me in when I said I was a friend, and flashed my reporter 'get anywhere you want' credentials."
"No," Ash said and started to chuckle at the absurdity of this second meeting. "I'd like some company to keep me in the land of the sane for just a little longer." He liked this person. Something about her was disarming and he felt the walls he'd spent so many years building crumble to the ground like old burned newspaper.
"So..." She hesitated. Her nose wrinkled and she bit her lip. Then she started again. "Have they told you what's going on yet?"
"Well," he started to say then shook his head. Where do I start? "I was attacked by a crazy homeless man, Frank, the day before yesterday. I had a horrible night that night, took several meds and drank until I passed out. The next morning my Glock 9mm was missing and Frank was dead. George confirmed the bullets were a match the gun registered in my name, the one that was missing but when I took George back to my house the Glock was suddenly back again. That's when George arrested me. Someone could have broken into my house last night, but all the possibilities around that make no sense. Who would have known I'd pulled the gun out that night, I usually keep them locked up. So now I'm starting to think I went sleep walking, half way across town to another hillside, and killed a homeless man... in my sleep? That doesn't make any sense either. I must sound nuts... huh?" Ash couldn't tell if she was reacting to any of this, her expression looked worried before he started talking. She didn't seem any more surprised, so that's was a consolation.
"I don't think you did it," She said. "I have reason to believe that something else is happening here, I just haven't put my finger on it yet. You, my friend, are at the epicenter of it. Congratulations," Grace said and put her notebook down. "You just got a living shadow. I'm not leaving your side until we figure this out." She forced a smile, and tilted her head back in a show of confidence.
"I hate to waste your time," Ash replied. The tiny window, high on the wall, revealed a few clouds rolling over the hills. It's getting darker by the second. He turned back to Grace and replied, "...I really am a messed up guy, lots of psychiatric history, it really is possible, however unlikely, that I killed that guy. I guess you can at least get the exclusive interview, but I don't think I'm going anywhere."
"Maybe-" She started. "Let me ask you something, have you ever seen this man?" Grace pulled out a photo of a pudgy man with bald head and graying hair around the sides.
"Yes, actually, I think I have," Ash took the photo through the bars of the cell door and stared at it a moment. The picture caused the hair on the back of his neck and head to stand on end. "I met this guy yesterday, a doctor something."
"His name is Dr. Richard T. Briar PhD, author of a book entitled 'Unlocking the Paranormal Mind. A study of how the human mind’s unlocked potential', and he is a very bad man. What if I told you that it was he, and not you, who was responsible for the missing gun showing up again, and the death of the old homeless man?" Grace's eyes portrayed a stronger confidence in this statement than anything he'd seen from her yet, which encouraged him slightly.
"How is that possible?" He asked. "What would a scientist want with an old man, and why use my gun--" The revelation slowly dawned on him as plausible, the pieces fit better than anything he'd conjured so far. The easiest way to get away with killing someone was to frame it on someone else. "Oh... But... why kill an old homeless man?"
"Honestly," She said with a shrug, "I don't know. I haven't put that piece of the puzzle together. But I've actually been following this guy for several years. I believe he's been systematically assassinating random people around the country, and Frank was one of many more to come."
"That's an odd thing for a scientist to be involved in." Ash almost lost track of the fact he was sitting in a cell.
"That hulking guy in the turtleneck that follows Dr. Briar around..." Grace said and pulled out another photo, "... he's been with tagging along on these adventures for a few years now too. His name is Sven, I still can't get a last name. He usually shows up in town a few days after the doctor. Then, mysteriously, one or more people die within 48 hours."
"Hm..." Ash couldn't put his finger on it, but the story had a certain ring to it.
"So you can say 'thank you' now." Grace said, with a broad smile.
"Thank you for..." Ash felt puzzled by the statement.
"For saving your life," She said.
"Saving my life? I think you're jumping the gun a little, I'm still locked up."
"Not that. I mean," She mimed the action of a jogger knocking into him with her shoulder. "For knocking the coffee out of your hand yesterday. Sven bumped into you just outside the door of the coffee shop and dropped something that looked like white pills into your drink. I bumped into you to prevent you from drinking it...." She squirmed a bit in her chair. "And this is where I make a confession... My car didn't break down. I was at your house to see if you were still alive."
"Really?" Ash cocked his head and took a deep breath, trying to process this revelation.
"I've followed this guy around the country, but I usually ended up arriving after he'd made the kill. This is the first time I made it to a place before anyone died. This is my big breakthrough." Grace started to smile, then made a frown. "Now we just need to get you out of here."
"I can help with that." George walked up behind her without either of them noticing. "Turns out there are no prints on the gun or bullets, but we managed find a few prints in the house that were not yours. They came up with no hits, which is odd. They aren't yours or mine or Grace's here. I checked everywhere in and around the house, and there are signs that someone climbed down your roof and rappelled onto your balcony. The DA and I talked it over and he sent his own people out to confirm. You're blood tests came back with way too much sedative still in the system to have allowed you to make the trek out to the kill site yourself. The house has been sealed for evidence. He's asked for you not to leave town, but he says you are free to go for now. You'll need to get a hotel."
"George," Ash said. "You are a God-send. What would I do without you?"
"Don't thank me yet," George held up one hand as a warning. "This is enough to cast doubt on you being the killer, but not to remove you from the suspect list. You keep your head down and I'll let you know what I'm allowed to tell you when I'm allowed to tell you it. For now, stay low."
After a quick processing, Grace and Ash ere back on the sidewalk in front of the police station breathing the clean mountain air. The little hippy-town wasn't much to some, but it never felt more like home.
"Come on," She said. "Let's get another Ice Cream and I'll tell you more about my research. Then I can drive you back to your place." She held out her keys, pressed a round button, and a red BMW parked across the street beeped twice. "I really am sorry for lying to you yesterday. But it's kind-of part of the job for a reporter. I didn't know if you were trustworthy until now." She gave him a look that said she wasn't moving until he did.
"I understand," He didn't really totally understand, but it sounded like the right thing to say. Still, there was something about her he liked. Only George had managed to break that barrier before now, and she was better looking that George.
"I'll take you up on that Ice Cream," Ash said and led the way across the street."... and I'll raise you a coffee."
By Darrell Wolfe
Storyteller | Creative | INFJ | Intellection | Ideation | Input | Learner | Achiever | Multipotentialite
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Opening Comments
Okay, I am back, and as promised, the first of my list of critiques to do! I try to be as detailed as possible, leaving comments wherever I have a thought - some may be irrelevant to what you're trying to achieve, but I will offer all my thoughts and feel free to use what you see fit!Inline Critique
This opening doesn't really draw me in. It might sound better if you open with 'Two men dressed in black ducked behind a car. Ash spotted them through the window of Thw Grounded Cafe and could have sworn they wore the black combat gear of [?]' Just a suggestion. I'm sure we all know this, but the first sentence and paragraph and page is always the most important!
Coolness
A chill? A shiver? He shivered?rushed down his spine, and his muscles tensed.
He reached for his sidearm
I'm having a bit of a hard time picturing what this means. Do you mean a weapon of some kind, or literally his arm?.
He shook his head, and looked again
,;they were gone.I think the transition between this and the paragraph above could be expanded upon. Or even combined.
Ash relaxed
show us this insteadand sank back into the leather bound chair; alone, in the corner of his favorite coffee shop.
Always keep your back to the wall, be near the most exits, but never too visible.
This sounds like somebody is speaking to him, or he's remembering what somebody said to himIt was like breathing, it never stopped..
what is 'it' in this instance?. even in civilian life. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD. That was the diagnosis they’d assigned him.
As Dean of Military Science, Ash's job primarily lay in administrative work and policy these days, plus a few sessions counseling the younger cadets, and would-be trouble makers. He was quite overqualified for the position, but he ran a tight unit.
This is probably more of a personal preference, but I always find it more interesting if you work information like this into the story rather than an info drop. It's not a huge paragraph so it probably doesn't matter too much, but could he have a flashback that addresses his title, or somebody speaks to him about it? Just a suggestion to 'bump it up'.
He stared at the faces of the pedestrians as they passed by the window. Hurried. Busy. Buried in their smartphones. So oblivious to the world around them, or the little clouds that float around their shoulders.
You could maybe give more detail about this rather than simple statements. 'He watched the hurried pedestrians through the window...'
The leaves began to fall, most turning shades of orange and yellow,
this kind of feels as if it is all happening in this very momentmatching perfectly the Pumpkins that were dotting porches and windows through the city the past few weeks.
Some commotion outside broke his train of thought... Everyone was stopping, turning, and staring in the same direction, a few moving toward the distraction.
you could give more detail about this. Does Ash feel curious? Does he wonder? Does he talk to himself about what it could be?
Ash stepped outside to see what was happening, turned a corner, and nearly ran into a bystander. A brisk evening breeze broke past his collar.
This reads out of place for what his happening at the moment and seems to come along suddenly. You could expand on Ash leaving and I'd imagine he'd notice the breeze the moment he left the cafe
A man in a tattered and dirty suit with a graying beard was standing on top of a pickup truck screaming at nobody in particular.
"You always did love Mother best... I know... That's why... You couldn't keep your mouth shut..." On he went, incoherently.
I'm not sure this is necessary
Just as Ash took a step closer, the man turned to stare him directly in the eye
This may very well be a region thing in language, so if it is, please ignore, but stare him reads a bit awkward and I desperately want to add an 'at' in between, but considering I know you use 'write you' and we use 'write to you' I am thinking it may be another regional thing so I'll leave it.
In a deeper, gravelly voice: "You... What do you want with us?"
who is saying this? the man or Ash?
Ash took a step back.
Then
I know at times it can't be helped, but I was always taught not to begin a sentence with 'then'. You could scrap it altogether and begin with 'the'the man turned back to his one-sided conversation.
Ash could see a large creature behind the man. The bottom half was more mist than form, as though it were made of smoke. The top half was like a man, with the head of a bull. It was charcoal
as in made of charcoal or the colour of?, and streaks of white painted across the chest.
Ash could feel his palms turn cold, and he felt as though he couldn't move his legs.
I think you could work these two together in a way of using the show don't tell method. 'Ash's palms went cold. It was as if his legs were glued to the [concrete pavement]...'
A smaller creature was on the homeless man's shoulders, screaming into his ears. He couldn't hear the conversation, but Ash could tell that the homeless man was responding and that he had only been hearing one-half of the conversation. Ash looked around and nobody else seemed too surprised, as usual.
you could definitely expand on this
The large creature stared directly at Ash, cocked his head to one side and disappeared along with the smaller one. The homeless man was by himself again, then his eyes narrowed. He leapt off the truck and ran at Ash.
It took all his training to keep from being pinned down. The old man was wiry but stronger than he looked.
definitely need to build upon this by including emotions and reactions for Ash and the people around
Ash let out a cry, "Jesus!"
"Jesus!" Ash cried as he attempted to step out of the way/run/etc
The wiry man stepped back
,.hHis eyes darted around, as though;helookedappearedconfused.That was all Ash needed. In 30 seconds he hog-tied the man with his own belt.
show this scene rather than telling us
The police were just arriving. "Charlie's at it again... Let's take him in."
This has all happened really fast and it definitely needs expanding upon
Three big men in uniform put cuffs and a muzzle
really?on the old man, and threw him, rather harshly, into the back of the squad car.
Ash heard someone behind him, "Those were some moves, Marine."
so they know him? Or he's in uniform? I think this might need to be established at the beginning of the scene to paint that picture in the reader's head
"Airman
so he is in uniform and they misunderstood? I think it's good that the general population could gt it wrong - I definitely would. It makes them more human. Uh... Thanks. No harm done." Ash noticed his cup crushed beneath him, the ice, coffee, and cream covered the sidewalk, and his jeans.
rework this"Well... Almost no harm anyway."
"Why don't you let me get you another… on me."
I think you need to establish who is speaking first up to give that initial picture rather than in the next paragraph. That was actually something that was pointed out to me while ago, as I did it as well
Ash looked up to see a balding man in blue slacks, yellow polo, and a pile of papers in his arms. A logo with two E’s overlapping bore prominently on his chest.
"The least I could do for a man who'd be willing to step into a situation like that, protect all these people. What's your name son
so Ash is relatively young??"
"Ash. I need to get some new clothes. I don't think I need any more caffeine right now. But thanks for the offer.
For a moment I thought he was asking the man to buy him new clothes instead of a coffee and was like... that's a big ask :O" With a wave, he set off toward home.
Ash headed down the sidewalk, past the shops and restaurants. There is a girl crying, typing away on the phone
show this by her appearance and the way she was sitting/standing. A little red frog on her shoulder was yelling into her ear. Ash could only imagine what it must be saying.
A little old lady is
wassitting inside a window
do you mean 'by a window'?at the
this indicates there is only one, which will mean you need to expand upon itnursing home. She
iswas (the tense has just suddenly changed here which makes it a little awkward to read)knitting something, probably a blanket. A large man in all white, stands behind her, smiling. He looks up at Ash, his smile fades slightly, and then returnsto what? to the woman? Include that in the same sentence. He looks down to her again.
Ash could not see the figure accompanying each person, only certain ones, here and there. Most were just clouds or mist.
I'm a bit confused by this sentence
"Don't worry so much." His doctor told him, "These may be after effects of the war. We’re just beginning to understand PTSD.
Although grammatically correct this reads awkward the way you've used it. The 'don't worry so much' now reads as a stand alone without the dialogue tags and is rather confusing. I'd attach the tag to the first part not the second. It'll flow better that wayThe mind is a marvelous adapter to stress. As long as these phantoms do not interrupt your daily work, or cause you to want to harm yourself or others, you should be fine. Consider yourself lucky. Just think of them as a construct of your active imagination, an amusing distraction from the mundane realities of life."
He sounds like a great doctor (sarcasm)
He turned off the street into an alley between two old buildings, and up a well-worn path into the woods
,;his refuge from the masses.Ash opened the door of his cabin.
expand upon his journey to the cabin. What are the woods like? Dense? Quiet? What kind of animals live there? Also, what does the cabin look like on the outside?
It wasn't a mansion by any means
that's a big jump. The word cabin instantly means small, so I don't think this is necessary, but it was more than sufficient for him. 900 sq. ft.
Not sure you need to specify exactly. Try and describe its size through more description, one large open room, a loft, and a balcony.
Yes sir, he owned one fine cabin in the woods. All to himself. How he'd managed to live here eight years and still not have a single friend invited over was a mystery, even to himself. Then again, you'd
he'd might be better herehave to have a friend to invite one.
He liked things just so.He liked the solitude.At least that's
might just be me, but I feel that was might work better for this sentencewhat he told himself.
Ash took a seat on his balcony
a balcony generally indicates it's two storeys., overlooking the hills and lake. He stared at the expansive forests, lost in time. The clock read: 6:00pm, he laid down in his hammock, bundled in the overpriced winter resistant sleeping bag, and watched the stars from the balcony until he drifted off.
Re work this sentence
As sleep overtook him, he thought to himself
,"Yes sir, this is one fine cabin."
would that really be what his thoughts were about? After the incident earlier he hasn't really thought much of it since. Did it scare him? Or is he used to it. We don't get to see much of his inner thoughts or feelings at the moment
***
An explosion knocks him against a wall. He barely sees, through the smoke, troops running about, hauling rubble off of bodies, checking pulses. Some are screaming in pain. Others shouting to one another. Half the mess hall is completely gone, all that is left is fire and rubble.
I really like this description
Ash can feel the beat of his heart in his neck, his forehead rushed with sweat. He sees them all running around, but all he hears is intense ringing.
As the numbness subsides from his brain, shock waves hit his chest as more buildings are getting hit nearby.
'crumble around him' maybe?
Ash uses the wall to steady himself and works to stand on his feet.
Others will tend to the wounded. This band of Jihadist miscreants found upgraded weapons; Russian no doubt
is that the truth?.
Ash shoots out the building
I was under the impression he was outside. His location may need to be established more,
anddown the road to the artillery unit. He grabs his rifle
so this has just happened then? He wouldn't already have a weapon on him? (I know nothing about modern war or battle, so forgive my ignorance here)and heads for the highest structure
,-a radio tower toward the side of the camp.He can see the launch area where the rockets are being fired from. He takes a few quick breaths, hyperventilating
that generally means a struggle to breathefloods the lungs with oxygen, one last deep breath in and hold, steadies his body.
reads awkward
Through the scope, he can see about 10 of them.
of what? Rockets?
They only have two missile launchers. They have very little cover, firing from open desert, mostly hiding behind their Jeep and a few large outcroppings of fallen mountainside.
He fires two rounds back to back, taking out both missile launchers, one exploding in the handler
's face. Ash then begins
He startsfiring one round after another as the attackers fall like Coke cans on a fence post. The rounds hit their targets with extreme prejudice.
Three remain, cowering behind the Jeep. Jeeps are great vehicles for driving through tough terrain quickly, but they are built light, not armored. He sees one peek through the glass,
and then he'sgone.
The other two attempt to climb in the vehicle
,keeping their heads down and
thendrive away. The problem with that is that both seats are occupied. He doesn't need to see them. Two. One.
The Jeep speeds up as it drives erratically,
This sounds like the jeep is driving itselfthen crashes into a mound of rocks.
***
Ash woke up... another nightmare, if you can call a memory a nightmare.
He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his wrist.
Red numbers flooded his vision
,.3:00 am.He rolled over and went back to sleep.
I'd like to see more reaction from Ash here. He's obviously having a nightmare. Does he wake up in a sweat? Heart pounding? Show us how he feels so we can feel it too!
Closing Comments
I think you already know what you need to work on as an over all, and I can't really add much to the email you sent me. These are just my thoughts and opinions, so hopefully you can find something useful from it. All the best, and I will look out for anything else you post :)