Alex Dubov

His eyes begin to slowly close. He sat in a cushiony seat. He watches time going by. Brutus Gousto notes how weary his thoughts are. The room is small and dark making him feel his fatigue intensify. Not knowing if he can stay awake. Gousto stands up looking around the stygian room. He sees a way out, a weathered door. Walking forward suddenly a tug on his foot stops him like the clip of a mouse trap, which snares a mouse, who greedily steals a piece of cheese.It finds itself struck dead.

For Gousto it was just a nail in the floorboard. Bending down to take a closer look, with a weary grin which appears on a narrow pale face which carried two blood shot eyes. He slowly tugs on his pants and unhooks the hem. A moment of freedom passes over him. Getting upright his face passes over a mirror he stops to view his features. He notes how different he looks from a week ago when he was with his ever energetic girlfriend who never let him show the worries he carried.

He decides not to linger too much with the mirror fearing it might show more then he desired.Turning back to the door he cautiously puts out his hand to grip the brass door knob, not knowing what lies behind it. He turns it but it would not turn. A stark fear ran down his spine. Now what, he thinks and with a quick and an unbalance twist of his head he begins to span the room. “How in the hell” he whispers to himself. Nervously he searches the room looking for something, anything. He starts at the desk which is beside the seat, now no longer looking cushiony as it did. Pawing the desk, nothing no pen or paper, just a small desk lamp and the drawers locked.

On the congested expressway a glossy black 69 Cadillac De Ville mixed into the evening traffic. Its engines' rhythmic murmur castes over the small passive imports in the following lanes. The dark tinted windows shrouds the occupants from prying gazes. Traffic now begins to spread thin and the De Ville squeezes through to the exit lane for vehicles heading up north to the country side of town. Cruising on the barren rural highway and across open prairie fields the De Ville soon comes to its required turn. Slowing down and turning right onto a dirt road, bouncing and sending dust high behind its polish chrome bumper, it finally arrives at its destination.The 69 parks infront of a white house, remnance of a old Kentucky colonial mansion. The scattered dust now settled and the car with it engine off, the four doors of the vehicle open.
A rusty old lock to the door of the house turned and the four bodies entered slowly into the hallway. Then creaking from the steps, spoke out as if a uninvited burden was placed on their backs. Whispers now filled the top hall leading to bedrooms with their doors ajar, exempt for one. Another key from the same set that opened the front door twisted inside the lock. The door passed the halls' light into the room. Appearing from inside was a blue seat with gold and white flower prints, worn but still capable of giving its seaters bones comfort and beside it was an old antique desk, ontop a small lamp with a green rectangular shade.

A sharp thud on the floorboard and dust raised up by a small box wrapped with prints of cakes, stars and bears with bows lay on the floor. A gentle creaky noise above the heads of the still four intruders brought their eyes gradually up. There eyes widened as figure up infront swayed as a chime in a vintage clock.
Its was Brutus Gousto, known to his close friends as Gussy. His bent head with eyes and tongue protruding out. He used the cord that holds back the drapes to let in sunlight .

If only poor Gussy knew that he was kept in room as a birthday surprise.

This is my first short story after 10 years or so of be away from the pen and being behind of the wheel. I would appreciate if someone could take a look at it and tell me if its a good start to my new beginning in a old habit.

Thank You.

Bob Loblaw

Some parts feel awkward. Such as

"Bending down to take a closer look, with a weary grin which appears on a narrow pale face which carried two blood shot eyes. "


Which feels as if you're trying to build up to something in your description, but not really getting anywhere since, grammar wise, it is not correct (the above example I pointed out is not a sentence) There are also some punctuation errors, like missing comas.


But despite that, this does make any interesting piece. Your choice of writing in the present tense keeps the reader in suspense. To me, some parts even sound poetically simplistic--like the way you describe the ending without blatantly stating what happened.


It's a good story.


What you need to work on is grammar and mechanics-- and that would basically polish it up.

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snorrie

You might work on your grammar and punctuation. You also have mixed tenses here and there.

Quote:

Walking forward suddenly a tug on his foot stops him like the clip of a mouse trap, which snares a mouse,

You have a tug walking forward.

Quote:

His eyes begin to slowly close. He sat in a cushiony seat.

I'm horrible at tenses, but her it sounds to me like the first sentence is in present and then the second in past. Again, I'm horrible at tenses so maybe I'm wrong. Take a look at it.

Quote:

Not knowing if he can stay awake. Gousto stands up looking around the stygian room.

I think this should be one sentence. Put a comma after awake instead.

Quote:

Bending down to take a closer look, with a weary grin which appears on a narrow pale face which carried two blood shot eyes.

Here you have two dependent clauses stuck together. It needs an indenpendent clause to make sense. Maybe use the sentence after.

I really tried to get through it but the syntax is so messed up and the punctuation, or lack there of, makes it hard to follow. Just go back through it and read it aloud. You'll find the errors. Good luck. Keep writing.

Alex Dubov

I needed the advice, the old gears gathered some dust. I'll focus on my grammer and sentence structure.