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Novel Treatments / The Dream Keepers (Awakenings: Part I)
1
Running.
It seemed that she was always running these days. It wasn’t just the days, either. It was nights, too. She was even running in her dreams, which she knew this was. But the horrors that were pursuing her were relentless. She could not stop. She dared not stop. For if she stopped, she knew that she would never wake up.
The tunnel seemed to stretch on for an eternity, and it probably did. She would keep running, though. She had to. Eventually she would wake up, if she kept ahead of the monsters. Or at least, she hoped she would wake up. She just wasn’t sure what would happen if they caught her. Would she wake up? She did not want to find out. God willing, they never would catch her. Then she wouldn’t have to find out.
But this was a dream. God would not help her here. She had to continue running, for God did not exist in this realm. It was hard for her to accept, but she knew it to be true. God would not allow her to come to harm in the real world. In her dreams, however, God was not present to hear her prayers. Not that she had the time to pray now. She understood that God was not present because she could not feel Him. She could only feel the Darkness. It was trying to penetrate her soul.
She turned to see if the demons had gained on her. They hadn’t. It was almost like they were toying with her. Like a cat plays with it’s recently captured mouse. She was the mouse. Her pursuers were the cats. They were amused, wicked, carnivorous cats. Waiting for her to tire. Waiting for her to stumble. Waiting for all hope to drain from her. Waiting for her to give up. But she wouldn’t. She would run. Forever, if she had to.
2
Frank awoke, feeling the cold sheet sticking to his slick body. He had to peel it off like a candy wrapper that contained a melted chocolate bar. He lay in bed for a moment, trying to compose himself. He could feel his heartbeat slow down, no longer hammering like it was when he first woke up.
It had been a bad one. They always were, but somehow the dreams seemed to be getting worse. There were more Darklings, for one. There had always been a lot of the little bastards, but now, now there were hordes of the creatures. Sick, twisted, deformed monstrosities that pursued Frank endlessly. He would always win the battles that he’d had with them, he was the best, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so recently. He had been waking up without feeling rested at all. He always had awakened weary from the horrible dreams, but now he was damn near exhausted.
He rose from his bed, the stiffness in his back complaining, and looked around his plain studio apartment. There was no real furniture except for the bed, vanity, and desk, but that was fine with him. He really didn’t have a use for anything else. He didn’t even have a television or radio, all they did was depress him. Nothing but blood and gore on the boob tube, which he had enough of in his life, and nothing but sad songs on the radio. Sadness was something that Frank had no use for. There was so much of it in reality, too much in fact, that he couldn’t stand to hear some sappy love song getting airtime. Frank witnessed the sadness everyday. He saw it in the homeless people on Lower Wacker Drive, he saw it in the confused masses of people hogging up the sidewalks, and he saw it at work. Yes, there was far too much sadness in the world.
He walked to the bathroom. After relieving himself of the six-pack that he had drank last night, he turned to the sink and turned on the cold water. In the mirror above the sink, he met his reflection. He studied his face and sighed softly. There were large, puffy bags under his eyes. His face was deeply lined with age, even though he was still five years from forty. He sighed again, splashed the cool water onto his face, rubbed his eyes and stared back into his reflection, studying all of the mental wounds that shone in his eyes. The water had refreshed him somewhat, but his eyes were still bloodshot. The redness was very noticeable. He would have to wear sunglasses today.
Frank turned on the shower and twisted the knob all the way to the left. He let the bathroom become filled with steam, and then stepped under the scalding water without muttering even a word of protest. He welcomed the heat, the temperature was perfect to wake him completely, but he could only stand a few minutes of it. He could feel the skin on his back and shoulders begin to blister. He didn’t even bother to use soap, any germs that were on him had been boiled into submission anyway. The searing water was exactly what he needed to start his day.
After he showered, Frank walked naked back into the open air of the studio. He let the warm summer air dry his body as it crept in through the open balcony doors. He walked to the window next to his bed and stared out at the city. Chicago was such a bustling town, never stopping for even a moment, and Frank enjoyed living here. The rent, the food, the attractions, everything was expensive, but Frank would never want to live anywhere else on earth.
He looked back over his shoulder and saw that it was nearing eight a.m. It was time to prepare for the day.
Frank walked to his bed and checked under the pillow to make sure that the .38 was there. It always was, but he always checked anyway. He knelt beside his bed and pulled the metal case from underneath it. Frank crossed his bedroom and laid the case atop the desk, opened it, and began pulling out his daily arsenal. The chrome Smith and Wesson .380 reflected the sunlight from his apartments bay windows, making the weapon look very much like an instrument of God. Frank smiled at his oldest and dearest friend, knowing all too well that he himself was God’s servant. The gun was just a tool. But it was a very impressive tool. He then removed the twin Beretta .9mm’s from the case. Frank had modified both of these to be fully automatic, which made them very handy. They were good sidearms, but for the real work he would always use the Smith. He closed the case after grabbing two ammunition clips for each of the Berettas and three clips for the .380. He looked at the alarm clock that sat upon the desk. 7:58. He walked over to the phone.
The phone rang at exactly 8:00. He let it ring four times before he answered it. When he picked up, there was a recorded voice asking him if he would like to change his long distance service. He listened to how much he could save with choosing this company over his current provider, wondering what would happen if anyone ever actually tried to call and get the new service from this company. He waited for thirty seconds after the message ended, the standard waiting period to ensure that there wasn’t a wire tap on the phone, and then heard Kevin’s voice. After a few minutes, he had received all of his instructions. He didn’t bother to write anything down, which was one of the things that his employers liked about him. He never left a paper trail. A photographic memory came in very handy in this profession. After receiving his instructions, Frank hung up the phone. He didn’t ask any questions or add anything to the assignment. He hated having his voice on tape, and he knew all too well that Kevin would be recording every word of the conversation. It had sounded like it would be an easy target, but Frank was not one to take chances. The unknown could be the difference between life and death, and Frank was always prepared for the x-factor.
He crossed from the desk to the closet, and began to dress for work. He chose a navy suit from Barney’s and complimented it with a white shirt and a black, tan, and navy patterned tie. Every suit that Frank owned had been specially altered to accommodate the double shoulder harness that he used for the .9mm’s, and this suit was no different from all the rest. He slid the harness on over the dress shirt and glanced in the vanity mirror. He couldn’t help but smile as he recognized every detective on every cop show that ever aired on television. He did look a little like a cop, he realized, but no cop on this planet would ever possess the skills that Frank owned. He shoved the Smith into the holster that was situated in the small of his back, another of his own creations, and slid into the coat. Perfect: very business like. No one would ever see Frank coming. At least, not until it was too late.
3
Pedro frantically gathered everything he needed from his desk drawers and closet. He threw two t-shirts and two pairs of jeans into the suitcase. It was going to be a long trip, but he didn’t have time to pack casually. They were coming. He wasn’t exactly sure who they were, or what they would look like, but he didn’t have time for formalities, they were coming all the same. He had to get out fast. Now. He had to get out of his apartment, probably would have to get out of Texas, and possibly even out of the country. They had found him. He didn’t know how, but that didn’t really matter, did it? Somehow they did find him, and he wouldn’t be waiting to ask them.
He returned to the closet for the most important thing. He sat on the bed and threw all of the contents of “the box” into the suitcase on the floor, along with everything else that he had gathered. Pedro started to close the case, but paused, and reconsidered leaving the gun. He rose to his feet a little too quickly and tripped over a dirty pair of Levi’s that he had decided that he could live without and fell to his knees. He landed on a golf ball with his right knee, and pain hemorrhaged its way through his entire body. The ball squirted out from under him as he landed, and he had to fight a strong urge to find the little white bastard and throw it through the window. He yelped in pain when he tried to stand, but managed to get to his feet, rub his knee, and open his dresser drawer simultaneously. He pulled out the .38 Chief’s Special and stuffed it into his pants pocket, retrieved the case from off the floor, and was out the door before he could decide that he wanted to bring anything else.
Thank God for Jimmy. Pedro didn’t know how the kid had found out the information, but if Jimmy Mason said that someone was on the way to kill you, you’d better leave, and leave fast. The kid had a way of finding things out, and even if he was wrong (which was almost never), it was safer to heed his warnings than to ignore them. Pedro had no intention of checking to see if Jimmy was wrong this time. He could call and question Jimmy later.
Pedro fled down the stairs and into the parking lot. He fished in his pocket for the Ford master key that he’d borrowed from Jimmy, and looked around the lot. There were plenty of cars to choose from. Jack Torre had a mustard yellow Mustang, Sonia Lopez owned a red Bronco, Phil Sanchez had a white Explorer, Trina Lawson had a white Taurus, and Donita Hicks had an old beat up blue Tempo. He didn’t dare to try and escape in his Blazer. Not only would they be looking for him to be in his truck, but the thing was also running on its last legs. He probably wouldn’t even make it out of Houston in the hunk of shit.
He decided on Mrs. Lawson’s Taurus. He hopped into the car and tried the key, praying that it would work. It did. The Taurus’ engine came to life in a wheezing cough (Mrs. Lawson apparently hadn’t been taking care of it so well) and Pedro shifted the transmission into gear. He drove cautiously, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. As he drove out of the parking lot, he looked up and down the street nervously, hoping that he wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He wasn’t exactly sure what to be looking for, after all, it wasn’t every day that someone wanted your head on a pike, but everything appeared to be as usual. He would have to settle.
Pedro drove the Taurus up Allen Parkway until he reached the entrance ramp for Interstate 45 and headed north toward Dallas. He hadn’t had time to consider all of his options beforehand, so he figured that Dallas was as good a start as any. He had a few friends there, so if things got ugly he might be able to find a place to lay low for a while. Maybe after Dallas (God knew he wasn’t staying in Texas) he would head east or west, but none of that really mattered now. Now all that mattered was getting away safely. His final destination would have to remain unknown for the time being.
He had a feeling that it was Garcia that was after him, but Jimmy hadn’t stayed on the phone long enough to disclose that information. Jimmy had only said, “You gotta get out Pete. They’re coming for you. They know about the disk.” And then Jimmy had hung up. There were several people that could have an interest in the information that Pedro had obtained from the National Society of Immigrants, but not too many of them were ballsy enough to actually do anything to prevent that info from getting out. Most of them would rather go back to Mexico or wherever they were from than take any drastic measures.
Pedro had actually been naïve enough to believe that all of the businessmen fell under that category, and that was where he had made the mistake. After downloading all the pertinent information, the really juicy stuff, from the NSI mainframe, he found out just how bad some of those “businessmen” were. There were many things that Pedro had learned during his two-week excursion into NSI’s database. Like the fact that Tomás Sanchez, an architect, was conducting a counterfeiting operation out of his downtown Dallas business office. He was only counterfeiting Mexican currency, but he had made enough fake pesos to make himself a multi-millionaire. Then there was Antonio Ramirez, a fruit farmer. Mr. Ramirez was not only growing fruit, though, he was also operating a nice-sized prostitution ring in Alice, Texas. There were many unsavory people that NSI had been taking kickbacks from, and Pedro had the goods on them all. Not all of them were involved in large operations like Sanchez, and Ramirez, but most of them had some nasty skeletons in their closet. The kind of skeletons that would take a sledgehammer to your skull if you let them out unguarded.
The most notorious of all the people in NSI’s database was Alonzo Garcia. Garcia had made a name for himself as a land developer for most of eastern Texas. He owned Arlington Properties, Inc. and had interests from Fort Worth, Texas to Shreveport, Louisiana. Pedro had discovered while routinely hacking through NSI that Mr. Garcia was also smuggling immigrants across the border in El Paso. Innocent enough, right? Yeah, well, what Pedro hadn’t known was that Garcia was also a member of the Rivera drug cartel, the second largest cartel in Mexico. Jimmy had been the one to find that out. Jimmy had told Pedro time and time again that he should be more careful hacking into a big corporation like NSI, but Pedro hadn’t figured that the business would be involved with anyone really dangerous. Garcia was as dangerous as they get. But during the course of his hack job, Pedro had found out that Garcia was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Garcia had business investments in many companies, to cover his drug connected tracks. The D.E.A. had been after Garcia for years, but had never been able to pin anything on him. But the information that Pedro had obtained could tie all of Garcia’s activities together. Pedro would never be stupid enough to go to the Feds with such information, but apparently Garcia wasn’t so excited about the information being stolen at all.
Pedro would have liked to have gotten the opportunity to try and blackmail some of the people on the disk, but now there was no time. He could have made a pretty penny with some of the stuff he had learned, and if he got out of this mess, maybe he would get the chance later.
There was another problem, too. The people that were after him were one thing, hell the most important thing, but Pedro couldn’t shake the memory of the nightmare that he’d had last night. His dreams had always been bad, at least since Veronica’s death. But they started changing about a year ago. Now they weren’t bad, they were fucking terrifying. He couldn’t count how many times he’d woken up screaming. Most of the time his bed would be soaked with sweat and his body would be shivering with fear. There had been times when he would not sleep for days, just to avoid having to put up with the dreams. He couldn’t even remember when the last time he didn’t dream was. For about a month now, when he did sleep, he’d been having the same dream. But last night’s was the most graphic and detailed nightmare he’d ever had. By far. The images were still dancing around in his head like uninvited guests. Pedro knew that he could run from Garcia, or whoever was after him, but he didn’t think it would be that easy to shake the dreams. He had a feeling that no matter where he ended up, the dreams would be there to welcome him into the darkness.
Just thinking about the dreams made a shiver run up and down his spine. He tried to expel the images of the little devils from his head, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t accomplish the feat. And he kept feeling like he was being driven to go northeast, like there was a magnet out there somewhere and he was a little scrap of iron being drawn to it.
Pedro decided to try a different approach to ease his mind. He tried focusing on the only thing other than demons that he had dreamt about in the last three months: The Warrior. It seemed to work a little bit. Pedro had no idea whether or not the guy really existed, but if he did, Pedro would have to find him. For some reason, Pedro could never remember exactly what the demons from his dreams looked like. All he knew was that their presence alone was terrorizing. He could almost feel the evil emitting from their foul bodies. The Warrior, on the other hand, His image was burned into Pedro’s mind like a branding iron on a Black Angus. The Warrior was a tall, muscular man with a sense of absolute power about him, kind of reminding Pedro of the stories of the Aztec Gods that his grandmother used to tell him. The Warrior was young, or possibly middle-aged, but his face was lined with age, like an old man’s face. Probably the most spectacular thing that Pedro could remember about the God-like man from his dreams was his eyes. God! His eyes were incredible! They were electric blue, the most vibrant blue that Pedro had ever seen. It was almost like God had reached up into the heavens and grabbed two stars, then set them into The Warrior’s face.
Pedro continued to focus on his memory of the awesome presence from his dreams. He had decided that The Warrior was real. And if he was, then maybe he could help Pedro with the dreams. Help understand them, cope with them, hell, maybe even fight them. The Warrior always fought off the dream demons, why couldn’t Pedro? All Pedro had ever done was run away from the little monstrosities, but maybe he could fight them. Maybe The Warrior could teach Pedro their weaknesses. In the dreams, The Warrior would swing his mighty sword and chop down armies of the little devils. Like a killing machine, and the dream creatures were the oil that kept Him running smoothly.
Pedro noticed that the Taurus was moving much faster than he’d intended. He could not draw unnecessary attention upon himself. He had to get out of Texas. He had to get away from this whole mess. Maybe it would all die down after a while. But if he were to get pulled over for speeding, he’d never even make it out of Harris County. He’d be arrested for carrying an unregistered weapon, and whoever was after him would ensure that he didn’t make it to trial.
Pedro slowed the vehicle to a more respectable speed. Northeast. He would find The Warrior northeast. That’s what was going on: The Warrior was summoning him. He just hoped that he could find The Warrior before his pursuers caught up with him. He also hoped that he could find The Warrior before going to sleep, because in sleep, there were dreams. And lately, Pedro always had dreams.
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Lunsford reviewed Version 1 -
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She was even running in her dreams, which she knew this was. . . . . . I had to read this two or three times before I understood it. Maybe you should try something like, – She was even running in her dreams; like the one she was having now.
The story was very interesting. Your writing is excellent and the story held my interest until Pedro got onto 45. I became bored reading about Garcia and was tempted to skip down. I have to deal with this in my writing too. How do you insert information like this and keep the reader’s interest? Well, I try to spread it out somehow and shorten it as much as possible without taking away from the story. Maybe you could incorporate some if it into the scene where Petro is packing up to leave.
This is an interesting story and I’m curious as to how the dreams all link together. I must say that you have talent and the writing is very good with a good flow. Your sentences are not choppy or run-on. Your descriptions are well done without a lot of unnecessary stuff. I hope you post more of your work. Good job.
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WaywardSonRising reviewed Version 1 -
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well the first thing that strikes me is that you held my attentionthe whole time without one singleline of dialouge. i really feel bad reviewing this item becausetheres not much i can say to help you with it. my favorite part was the second section, just because everything fit so smoothly and i really want to know who this guy is, almost has a feel of “Frailty” meets “Mission Impossible”. in a good way. the first section, albeit short, created a great image to build on. really, and i mean this, there is hardly andthing i would change about this piece.
flora reviewed Version 1 -
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i found this to be an interesting read which with some reworking could be a stellar piece. I found a lot of it to be redundant all the way through. It’s as if you’re attempting to clarify to the reader what you’ve just said but it’s not necessary if you explain it well in the fist sentence.
“But this was a dream. God would not help her here. She had to continue running, for God did not exist in this realm.” ... ” In her dreams, however, God was not present to hear her prayers. Not that she had the time to pray now. She understood that God was not present because she could not feel Him”
same paragraph, saying almost the same thing. I think we get the jist of it from the first sentence and you could spend this writing space talking about how it made her feel that God wouldn’t help her here or something like that.
Your redundancy is throughout the whole piece and I think detracts from the story some. Other than that I think it’s a great story.
Vijnana reviewed Version 1 -
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#1: way too much repetition, very short sentences. ”She was the mouse. Her pursuers were the cats” is extremely unnecessary considering you already said this the previous sentence.
#2 and #3 were more interesting than #1. But in all three cases you have characters moving alone. In #2 you start the scene way too early. Do we really need to see him shower?
A scene should begin about the time significant action is beginning. Yet it is paragraph six when you say “It was time to prepare for the day.” In both 2 and 3 we have more than enough detail about particular types of weapons, but can find out little concerning the subject of the story or the motivations of the characters. If you do not have characters acting in a way that will allow the reader to have sympathy with them and their goals, then the reader will not have reason to root for or against a character.
An example of many words of description that lack any detail, so that all those words fail to describe the character at all: ”He couldn’t help but smile as he recognized every detective on every cop show that ever aired on television.”
I would recommend a very good book on the writing craft, like HOW TO WRITE A DAMN GOOD NOVEL, BY James N. Frey. With his help, you could turn your skill at writing clean sentences into stories that might grip readers and be publishable. Good luck.
ccwitkus reviewed Version 1 -
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Hi.
I am intregued. This is an interesting supernatural tale that seems to be populated with well-considered, believable, and sympathetic characters. I think this is a good start and there’s a lot of things that work here, although, as always, I have a few caveats.
First, I like your use of the dreams. All three characters have them, which ties the three narratives together and provides a direct introduction to your story, strengthening its coherence and continuity. At the same time, though, each character has a slightly different read on the dream and a different amount of information, which differentiates the characters and leaves room for them to work together. I also like the parallels between each character’s place in the dream and their place in the world. Both the first unnamed narrator and Pedro are fleeing in the dream and in real life, whereas Frank fights in the dream and is active in real life. I think that creates an interesting parallel.
I also like the sense of fate at the end, with Pedro drawn to the northeast. It adds an element of mystery to the story, even though we already have an idea about the Warrior (Frank?) or at least people that do similar things, and the monsters in the dreams.
Mostly, I think the strength here is that you give away enough of the underlying supernatural stuff to pique the interest of the reader without giving it all away. I want to know more about this dream world and the thread that connects these characters. I also think that a strength is that you have well-developed characters outside of the context of the supernatural, instead of allowing the wooky stuff to determine their personalities. I like that these people have histories and lives outside the weird.
Now for my caveat. I think that this piece is a little bogged down with details. The guns are a good example. While I agree that its relevant to describe the weaponry of a hit man (I presume) in a decent amount of detail, it still seems overwhelming, particularly because it keeps occuring. I also wonder, when you’ve created so many other interesting parallels, why you don’t parallel Frank’s human weaponry with his arsenal in the dream world. There are places where the details work really well (particularly where you describe the information hacker Pedro has), but there are also places where it’s too much (Frank showering, Frank on the phone, etc…. mostly Frank).
I also think that the internal monologues get a little unfocused and overwhelming. I like the use of the close third person narrator and the perspective changes, but there’s almost too much stream of consciousness at work here and not enough clarity. Particularly with the first narrator, it tends to be repetitive. I think you could clip some of the lines and character thoughts without losing the feeling that the reader is in the character’s head. I also think cutting some of the internal thoughts allows you to focus on only the most important details, the things that are really going to matter to the rest of the story.
Overall, a really good job. There are almost no gramatical errors and only a few places where sentences read awkwardly. I think the language could flow a bit better in places, but I think those overlap with where I feel the internal monologue-type narrative is overwhelming.
I’m looking forward to reading more, seeing how you continue to kick this piece off. Hope this helps, and, of course, feel free to leave a comment or send me an email if you have additional questions/comments.
-cc
MeganRenea reviewed Version 1 -
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I enjoyed this composition… somewhat.. I was merely frustrated by the confusion of style. I see you are well read, because your style reflect very many cliches that writers use for dramatic effect.. These are just a few of my criticisms in the first 2 parts.
“She did not want to find out. God willing, they never would catch her. Then she wouldn’t have to find out.” repetition of find out.. use a different phrase… 500,000 words in the enlgish dictionary not including slang terms and scientific mumbo jumbo… Make use of them!
“God would not help her here. She had to continue running, for God did not exist in this realm. It was hard for her to accept, but she knew it to be true. God would not allow her to come to harm in the real world. In her dreams, however, God was not present to hear her prayers. Not that she had the time to pray now. She understood that God was not present because she could not feel Him. She could only feel the Darkness. It was trying to penetrate her soul.” this paragraph contains so much repetition. I understand, God isnt there. The point is made too many times.
“She turned to see if the demons had gained on her. ” did she stop running? show me, dont tell me.
“Like a cat plays with it’s recently captured mouse. She was the mouse. Her pursuers were the cats. ” when u use a simile.. it isnt necessary to explain how the components apply to the situation. You’re giving to much information here and treating your reader like a child. We’re perfectly capable of interpreting a cogent simile! :D
“He had to peel it off like a candy wrapper that contained a melted chocolate bar. ” good simile.. and no explanation! BRILLIANT
“He could feel his heartbeat slow down, no longer hammering like it was when he first woke up. ” explanation. the hammering was inferd, because his heartrate had slowed down… cut the ellaboration.
“There were more Darklings, for one. There had always been a lot of the little bastards, but now, now there were hordes of the creatures.” the use of the ‘now there were hordes…’ is unessesary because of the fact that you declared that three lines above
”He had been waking up without feeling rested at all” uneccessary
“Yes, there was far too much sadness in the world.” too much ellaboration… this is what the reader shoul be thinking, not what you should be writing.
“stepped under the scalding water without muttering even a word of protest. ” seems forced
excessive use of cliches “all to well” “not even a bit”
all and all.. it is quite engaging.. and I will finish it some day…. You have a very solid plot here.. u just need some structure and “how nots” I recommend the book I am reading.. It helped me polish off my style and better my delivery. “the pen commandments” by steven frank
I hope you enjoy it.. It has helped me immensly
peacekeeper87 reviewed Version 1 -
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Writing the review as I read so bear with me.The first part about the dream was a bit cliche and slow. Not like your other works which grab you and suck you into the characters world.
Didn’t like how you felt you needed to expain who was who in your cat and mouse game.It seemed needles and a bit insulting to the intelligence of the reader.I think something like this might work better: ‘It was almost like they were toying with her, playing a sadistic game of cat and mouse. Taunting her, waiting for her to tire. Waiting for her to stumble, make a mistake. Waiting for all hope to drain from her. Waiting for her to give up. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She would run. Forever, if she had to.’
While you got better in the second section with Frank it still bogged down a little. This is nitpicking but is Franks back-up piece a .38 or a .380? Believe it or not there is a difference. One caliber(the .38) is for revolvers and the other(.380) is for automatics. And since I’m on the subject, they are nominally the same caliber as the 9mm’s. I’d go a little lower (like a .32) on the caliber for the back-up. Or keep it the same for logistical reasons, only have to buy on ammo. Like I said, nitpicking but sometimes details like this will take the reader out of the story.
Now onto Pedro. I like this section but you add too many details about his activities. I think if you just mention he has dirt on some bad people and give use more details as he heads to Chicago(at least that’s where I think he’s going)it would flow better.
Overall I will say this is not your best work but I am looking forward to seeing more. It’s got potential. Talk to you soon-B
fourtwenz reviewed Version 1 -
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She was the mouse. Her pursuers were the cats .. I think you could cut this line, you say it before and after just as well
If this was helpful let me know below
This seems like you are building to something big, very good read, interesting story I love a rich bad guy, and it makes me want to know who ‘the warrior’ is, (which make me want to turn the page, so far so good.
LynnFollett reviewed Version 1 -
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Okay this was great. Nothing as far as I know needs to be changed but I’m sure there is. I look forward to reading more and finding out what happens to your characters. The only thing that I would enhance on is the discriptions of the gun that you write about. I only knew they were guns because I had done research on weaponry for my own story but I feel that other people won’t know what you are on about. As for grammar, I couldn’t spot any that needed fixing
bor1 reviewed Version 1 -
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I like this.To be honest I don’t think it needs changing.You had my attention all the way through this.I really enjoyed reading it well done.
All The Best
Rob
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