Thanks for the feedback. Sorry it took me so long.
Crime, Thrillers & Mystery / Prologue from novel, North To Disaster
PROLOGUE
I’ve never really liked the taste of a Smith & Wesson. Especially when it was a forty-five caliber handgun jammed between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. It had a gritty metallic flavor with a touch of sea salt and sweat.
It didn’t matter much that I was located in one of the most beautiful places in the world. In that moment I couldn’t see any of the scenery. I was face down on the concrete floor and under a table in a corner of a dark hangar in Seward, Alaska. Within a couple miles of the blood stain spreading under my face stood majestic mountains, blue white glaciers, and brilliant white icefields. Wilderness spread in all directions where eagles soared, sea otters chortled, and humpback whales breached in the nearby Gulf of Alaska.
But like I said—none of that mattered at the moment. I couldn’t see a lick of it. And none of it could see me. That was the whole point. Why else would I be huddled in the dark next to a pile of smelly airplane tires?
This wasn’t a very heavily populated area. In fact there were only three people within shouting distance at the moment. They weren’t interested in the scenery either. They were looking for me. They were trying to kill me. One of them was stretched out on the pavement just a few feet away. He was trussed up like a turkey dinner, and he wasn’t saying much. Just a groan once in a while. Especially when I kicked him. The sonofabitch.
It hadn’t been my idea to taste a high-powered handgun. It was his. Although it’s true that it rains a lot in this part of Alaska, I wasn’t suicidal just yet. Not on that night anyhow. No, suicide wasn’t on my mind; homicide was.
The other two people were outside somewhere. And they were headed my way. One had a hunting rifle suitable for killing grizzly bears, moose, or an unlucky bush pilot. The other carried a twelve-gauge shotgun. Like the local scenery, she too was beautiful. And deadly. My ears were still ringing from the shot she’d taken at me. She’d missed but the blast tore a huge hole in the side of the metal building where I was hiding. I was starting to regret sleeping with her.
I hunched deeper into the corner when I heard footsteps outside and pulled a rusted-out muffler over me to cover my feet. The hangar was a mess. Boxes of greasy airplane parts and paper cups were strewn everywhere. The cups that weren’t half full of old coffee were filled with nuts and bolts and sheet metal screws.
But for once I wasn’t cursing the mess in the maintenance shop. Old Hubert McCormick was the mechanic that ran this disaster. All of us pilots on the field spent hours helping Hubert search for parts and tools to fix our planes. It’s a good thing we all liked the guy. Otherwise, he’d have been found floating face down in the bay a long time ago. That night I fell in love with the old bastard. I was counting on his mess to save my life.
The huge body lying next to my hiding place groaned again. I thought about shooting him. After all, I was holding his forty-five caliber cannon now, quietly spitting out the tiny chips of teeth and dental work he had recently rearranged. I knew it was only luck that I’d been able to turn the tables on him. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be telling this story. I’d be pushing up blue lupines and Alaskan forget-me-nots in the Seward cemetery.
The cold concrete felt good against my cheek. It cooled the bleeding divot he’d left there with the gun barrel, trying to force me to give up the prize. My face would have felt much better if it hadn’t been for the sand and the gas and the oil and the sheet metal screws I was lying on. Damn that Hubert.
The rest of me felt terrible. My hands were cramped and sore. More blood seeped from matching wounds on the front of both shins, and my feet cried out from multiple open blisters. My neck muscles protested the effort it took just to hold my head off the floor. I think I was in a bad mood too.
But I’m getting way ahead of myself. I wasn’t lying there by accident. As much as I hate to admit this, it was my own damn fault. And I need to tell this story from the beginning.
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jkazimer reviewed Version 1 -
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General impressions:
I’d read this if I saw it in a bookstore. It felt gritty, and had a definite noir feel.
Feedback about the word flow:
This might be the least accomplished part of what I read. For me, the prologue is all about the bang, and in so many ways you accomplish that, but I also found areas that drug your pace down. Especially when you started describing the exterior of Alaska while your protag couldn’t view it, nor would a normal person in the throes of a battle to the death, think about. That an the backstory you add could both wait for later chapters and strength the flow.
Interest in reading more:
Yep.
Clarity of images:
For the most part you do well with mixing action and exposition. The images are clear, but I wouldn’t have minded a little more description of the action and less of the surroundings.
Appeal of the voice:
Great voice.
Impact of the first sentence, first paragraph and first page (the first 3 paragraphs):
First sentence is a great hook. Not so much a fan of how the gun tastes though, it seems to common for such a great opening line. As for the three sentences and paragraphs, if you cut down on the place description, I think it will hold my interest better. I wanna know about the gun jammed between his teeth, not how pretty the world is.
And that leaves me with the last line. So far you’ve kept me on the edge of my seat with lines like I should’ve never slept with her, but that last line about telling the story leaves me flat. It’s not original, and is sort of like a lazy way of jumping into the story. Too many novels of this genre use that, and it doesn’t really work for me.
k, so overall you’ve got a great start for a tale of sex, lies, and intrigue. I look forward to more.
j
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hypatia reviewed Version 1 -
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Hi, a revision of your opening line for your consideration – more in the moment.
Chocking, I bit down on the forty-five caliber handgun which jammed between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I’ve never really liked the taste of a Smith & Wesson; it had a gritty metallic flavor with a touch of sea salt and sweat.
Confusing transition from (a) gun in mouth to (b) guy on floor without gun in mouth – Did he overpower him? How did he get the gun out?
I was starting to regret sleeping with her. Good line, tells a lot.
A lot of intrigue in this prelude well done. The end line is a good start for the rest of the story. Got me wanting to find out more.
chelly reviewed Version 1 -
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What a hook the first sentence is. The following sentence made me want to know what was going on.It had a good flow to it. I have a question though.Is this supposed to be the first chapter? To me it feels like a prologue.
Either way it was an enjoyable read.
DCAllen reviewed Version 1 -
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The nonchalant tone of the narrator coupled with his dire situation is excellent. I like the style.
The first sentence is excellent too, but I had the read it again after I read the he was lying face down on the ground. If you write “It had left a gritty metallic flavor . . .” I think it will be clear that the gun is not still in his mouth when the reader finds him on the floor.
Wouldn’t pulling the rusted muffler over make noise that would attract the bad guys?
In general, I found this well written. I would have continued reading.
Normally, I give a long list of proofreading notes, but here I haven’t found anything to comment on.
ellastasia reviewed Version 1 -
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First of all, really like the parallelism you used in the first two paragraphs! As for word flow—I can’t complain! The only thing that jumped out at me was ‘smelly airplane’. Maybe use a more poetic synonym, since after reading the contrast between nature and the MC’s situation, ‘smelly’ just seemed a bit off!
Grammatically, I noticed the phrase: ‘mind; homicide’—rather than a semicolon, it should be a colon (since ‘homicide was’ isn’t a complete sentence!).
Really like ‘if it hadn’t been for the sand and the gas and the oil and the sheet metal screws’ – though it defies all correct comma usage, the flow of it really illustrates the messy quarters! It also makes your writing style unique rather than something that stiffly follows the grammar book.
Somewhat comedic (which is a good thing!) but definitely raises quite a few questions, which is essential for the beginning of a novel! Overall, I really think there is nice flow, nice diction you’ve succeeded in painting a picture of the entire scene in my mind!
EllePepper reviewed Version 1 -
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Ok, good start over all, but too telling. Show me what is happening, it’s all monologue, I want to know what is going on and save all this BS for later.
Also you are very repetitious. While some of it may be intentional, it is sort of distracting. I know some of it may be intentional, but it makes it harder to read and tempts you to skip. (Just figured I’d illustrate my point.)
Good opening line, but the rest of it stops the action. It didn’t matter…. Like I said it didn’t matter… (then why are you telling us this)
Suicidal…no Suicide wasn’t on my mind… no homicide was. Again, repetitious, it takes away some of the drive of the story.
Over all, it just needs to be tightened a little. Start us with what he did and who he is, THEN tell us this.
00_Swanky reviewed Version 1 -
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Very excellent prologue, it offers a great balance of the personality of our narrator as well as some action and intrigue to keep the interest peaked. The voice you found while writing it was great, and I often chuckled a few times at how the ‘reveals’ were layered, particularly the “I guess I shouldn’t have slept with her.” sentence. Hah, the humor in the thought process of being shot at and chansed, then regretting sleeping with her felt natural and gave the narrator a bit of a sense of humor without even telling a joke.
I’m not necessarily a huge fan of the ‘I guess I need to tell this story from the beginning’ types of books/literary device because it implies that the protagonist obviously made it out of the trouble he was in. Especially if we’re reading this story as memoirs, or as a retelling to a few friends, etc. It does work as a device if the entire story is just the way he sees the world, his inner monologue, and we’re along for the ride just as he is.
But it doesn’t really take away from the story at all, as even if I knew he survived, my interest was definitely drawn into why he was in such a predicament, how he’ll get out, and what everything revolved around in general. Everything felt natural and not over-written like some of the other stories I’ve reviewed as of late. Never once did it feel like you were trying to impress the reader with an immense vocabulary, trying to gain the attention of a publisher by throwing 100 dollar words around like confetti.
Excellent, very very excellent.
SecularProphet reviewed Version 1 -
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It definitely sparked my interest and made me curious. I was kind of irritated by a comparisons to “a turkey dinner” and other figures of speech I was unable to decipher. That would be my only issue with this piece; dump a bit of the action jargon so typical for macho adventure stories.
Pogopaws reviewed Version 1 -
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This 207 word review has not been unlocked.
Lino reviewed Version 1 -
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Hard-boiled and no-nonsense, straight to the point… The word flow is as powerful and explosive as the mentioned Smith & Wesson, which I think suits the overall impression of this scene very well. I like the first sentence, it grabbed me instantly. Not too fond of the third: I don’t think it’s needed to get a good punchline.
This definitely makes me want to keep reading. Enjoyable!
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