that’s a good point i didn’t make. I agree. All the ‘information is there for the story to grow on’. So many writers don’t do that; set the scene; paint the characters.
Action Adventure / Chapter One (Analysis)
Chapter 1
Beirut, Lebanon, Spring 1990
Hamra was one of Beirut’s fashionable districts, its main street lined with designer shops, pavement cafés, cinemas…
Despite the civil unrest, this evening the street was crowded with people and filled with the sound of cars hooting, jukeboxes blaring out Arabic songs, salsa music, rumba… it was packed with the cosmopolitan noises characteristic of Beirut city.
A little distance away from the crowd, at the corner of the street, a certain grey saloon car was parked with its engine running, concealing something alarming in it. Three men in their early twenties were seated in the car, waiting; they had an air of stern determination about them. They were murmuring verses from the Kor’an in the same manner as they had done since they were impressionable young boys.
The driver glanced at his wristwatch, then leaned forward, tilted his head up and looked at the sky through the front windscreen.
The evening was clear and closing in fast. A few bats had taken to the air, beating their fleshy wings, catching moths between the buildings. Neon signs around the street began to turn on one after the other; florescent lights in restaurants, boutiques and jewellery shops also began to flicker and glow in vibrant colours.
One of the men in the car finished reciting a surah from the Kor’an. He ran his palms over his face as if washing it with holy air, rolled his head from side to side and said to one of his companions, “Must get going. May Allah, the most Merciful, grant us strength.”
He got out of the car and adjusted his creased trousers. The second man followed him, leaving the driver alone in the car.
The first man had a gun hidden under his loosely-hanging shirt and the other, a sledge hammer with a sawn-off handle.
“Just hit the button when we give you the signal,” the first man instructed the driver.
“Allah willing.” The driver agreed, still half-submerged in prayer. He was holding a small transmitter with a telescopic aerial under the dashboard, hidden from view of passers by.
The two men entered a glass-fronted building through a revolving door, walking with the kind of discipline drilled into those conditioned to die for a spiritual cause. They did not take the elevator but climbed the internal staircase to the third floor and stood outside one of the apartments. One of the men looked down from the window by the staircase and gave the driver a decisive nod.
The driver pressed the button on the transmitter.
An almighty bomb exploded next to a building not far from the car. The air shattered like a massive pane of invisible glass. The shockwaves that followed caused the bats to tumble in the air and collide into buildings. Violet flames burst out against the night, followed by a plume of smoke. The smoke caressed the building as it went up. People in the street panicked: ‘ya wayyleeee,’ they screamed and scattered in confusion, knocking each other off balance. Sirens sounded. All the while the jukeboxes continued to produce different songs all together.
In synchrony with the explosion one of the men smashed the door of the apartment with his sledge hammer and broke it open. The two men entered a luxurious lounge and faced a slim, European man, in his mid thirties. The man’s blue eyes appeared bright under his black hair which was thrown into disarray across his forehead and over his ears. He was standing motionless in the middle of the lounge, dressed in a modest suit, grasping a large book in his hands and looking utterly stunned.
The leading man, now holding the gun at his side, spoke in a polite and respectful tone: “Good evening,” he said in English in his engaging manner. “Are you Mr David Vernon?” His clipped accent was reminiscent of that of an Arab Prince educated at Oxford. His name was Omar Zaqawi, a monstrous wonder, an exotic creature that many had heard about but very few had glimpsed – an oily, slippery rebel of the highest order.
“No,” the European man replied.
“What is your name?” – Omar Zaqawi asked.
“Thomas Newton-Jones. Who are you? What do you want?”
“I am looking for Mr David Vernon.”
“Well, he is not here,” Thomas Newton-Jones said in a tone that didn’t quite hide his apprehension of the men.
“But this is his apartment, is it not?”
“It is, but he is not here.”
Omar Zaqawi looked at the contemporary and traditional paintings hanging around on the walls lit by miniature spotlights. He looked at a bronze Byzantine figurine that stood on an ornate table beside a silver picture frame containing a photograph of a man who was not Thomas.
“Mr Newton-Jones,” he said in his calm manner, “I do not wish to waste your time, nor do I wish you to waste mine. Just do as I say and I give you my word that I will cause you no harm. Will you comply? Just answer, yes or no.”
“Yes,” Thomas replied, still standing motionless despite a muscle spasm in his left leg visible through his trousers, and still gripping the book firmly in both hands.
“Now, you will walk with us downstairs. You will get into our car without saying a word or indicating any sign of distress. Will you do that?”
“Yes,” Thomas replied. Sweat had begun to break out on his forehead. He remembered the report he had read a week earlier of the headless body of a European man dumped by the roadside.
“If you do not,” Omar Zaqawi warned, “then I will shoot you point blank in the back of your head. You will die before you know you are shot. Now let us walk in the name of Allah, the most Merciful.”
Thomas must have absorbed the full impact of that terrifying statement because the book fell from his hands and landed on the carpet in a muffled thump. He followed the other man out of the apartment. Omar Zaqawi walked behind them. The three men descended the staircase silently and exited the building through the revolving door. The street outside was still in total mayhem. They got into the back seat of the waiting car: Thomas in the middle, Omar Zaqawi on one side and his accomplice on the other.
The car drove off in the opposite direction to where the bomb had just exploded and vanished into the back streets of west Beirut – the Islamic quarters.
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kadiya reviewed Version 1 -
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Senkia reviewed Version 1 -
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“He was holding a small transmitter with a telescopic aerial under the dashboard, hidden from view of passers by.” There is no space between the s and by in passersby.
“The two men entered a glass-fronted building through a revolving door, walking with the kind of discipline drilled into those conditioned to die for a spiritual cause.” What kind of building? While it may seem unneeded it makes it hard for the reader to paint a mental picture, which takes away from the story.
“‘ya wayyleeee,’ they screamed and scattered in confusion, knocking each other off balance.” Since this is something this is a quote you have to make it a separate paragraph. I would suggest changing this to something like the crowd was running around frantically screaming, then make some analogy to help me imagine this scene.
“balance. Sirens sounded.” You should connect these with a ;
“In synchrony with the explosion one of the men smashed the door of the apartment with his sledge hammer and broke it open.” If he smashed the door then we know its open, no need for you to tell us.
“The leading man, now holding the gun at his side, spoke in a polite and respectful tone: “Good evening,” he said in English in his engaging manner. “Are you Mr David Vernon?” His clipped accent was reminiscent of that of an Arab Prince educated at Oxford. His name was Omar Zaqawi, a monstrous wonder, an exotic creature that many had heard about but very few had glimpsed – an oily, slippery rebel of the highest order.” Again quotes get their own paragraphs.
“The car drove off in the opposite direction to where the bomb had just exploded and vanished into the back streets of west Beirut – the Islamic quarters.” You should put “in the opposite direction of where the bomb went off.
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BrokenPoet12 reviewed Version 1 -
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incredibledisc reviewed Version 1 -
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Joel reviewed Version 1 -
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You are doing a bit of telling here. For instance, don’t tell me that the car ‘concealed’ its passengers, show me how they are concealed.
You have a good opportunity to add some action to the still setting with the bats. I think a better description would be more energetic. Also, ‘fleshy wings’ was uncomfortable, it sapped the energy of the moment. I know what the bats are doing, show me them doing it (I know they’re eating bugs). For instance, “With swift dives and impossible turns the bats carved their evening meal from the clouds of insects flittering around the lights.” This way the action of the bats is more important than the objective of the bats.
Have the man finger, fiddle with, caress, or something, the gun, don’t tell me it’s there, make it a part of his character.
Pg 2,
“One of the men.” You precede this by ‘one of the apartments’. I would prefer you show me one of the men, give him some details, swarthy, jittery, hard-eyed.
‘caused the bats’ This is weak. The action should reflect the violence of the event. Smashed, slammed, shattered.
And yet another ‘one of the men’
“You will die before you know you are shot.” Hmm, this actually sounds like the best of two options. Either, get in the car, and have your head slowly sawed off, or die in an instant. I think you need a more fear invoking threat here.
The story starts to pick up a bit on the last two pages. I still think you need to do some technical work on this and add colors to your sketch.
Hope that helps,
Joel.
Owl_Light reviewed Version 1 -
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hate…
civil unrest? That’s a bit of a euphemism for Beirut.
lose ‘certain’ (grey saloon)
commas are frowned upon today. ; is Ok.
caressed is a wrong word to describe the behaviour of the smoke. flames were belching. the blast was being felt. no caressing took place.
not synchrony. synchronisation is correct but horrible. You’ve had exploded already. what about a different word. blast. Or simpler. At the same time as the bomb exploded. Simultaneous.
men burst in yet you use commas in you description. The action is fast. No time for lengthy description. If you want to keep the description, describe it before the bomb. Make a contrast. Thomas Neutron-Jones with the bright blue eyes reading becomes a terrified man with wide eyes dropping his book.
Again, the descriptions and name should come before the action. Omar could be described when he was in the car.
Thoma Neutron-J would not have prefaced his answer with ‘well’. a stammer perhaps.
Recognise how to pace your writing. Commas slow it down. Descriptions slow it down. Clipped speech speeds it up. Think of comic books. POWEE!! BLAM!!
vickiebellew reviewed Version 1 -
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This piece is well written. It carries the reader with it. Without jumping from one to another. It was engaging and easy to read. You have a wonderful start to a good story. The way you set up the story with Beirut Lebanon Spring 1990. puts the reader in the right time and when You added that it was the fashinable district. drew out all the information for the story to grow on. Well done.!!
jtthehunter reviewed Version 1 -
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Great start with an excellent introduction of the characters. Good flow with the scene and nice tight action sequence that moves the reader along with the story as it unfolds. Beautiful description of the characters reaction to the moment including the muscle spasm in the victim. Well thought out and very descriptive in its protrayal. Can’t wait to read the rest.
DragonFire reviewed Version 1 -
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Okay, first, you potential for a great story but there is nothing to grab or keep the readers intrest. You need to find a way to pull the reader in and keep it.
Other then that it was good and I liked it.
Sorry no examples, for its the whole thing.
oneshot92 reviewed Version 1 -
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The story did a good job of pulling me in. The only thing that I can suggest is to add a little more description. About the men in the car for instance, or maybe the appartment. Put the reader in the room. Also, I would try not to give away the characters intensions in their descriptions. Over all I really liked it though. Sounds like something I would normally read.
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