J.S.S

All criticism, thoughts, questions and ideas welcome.


I’m standing over a man who just tried to jump me. My craft knife is dripping with his blood and he is clutching his bloody chest wheezing. His two friends stare at me with shock. I steady my knife preparing to deliver another stab in case they decide to be stupid and lash out in revenge. One of them shouts, “You’re in shit man!” his voice harsh and full of anger. They run leaving me with the gasping corpse. I look at him. They’re right I am in shit. Kneeling down next to him I wipe my craft knife on his shirt, then fold it up and place it back in my pocket. I zip up the guy’s jacket, which covers the wound nicely.
A few minutes later I’m dragging him into a late night shop where I grab a bag of marshmallows, some kebab sticks, lighter fluid and a box of matches in hopes that it looks like we’re having a barbeque or some kind of bonfire with marshmallows. At the till the check out girl is looking at us with a suspicious glare. Her eyes look tired and unforgiving. He wheezes and coughs out some blood, we both look at him and then look at one another. I quickly smile at her.
“I apologise for my friends lack of life but he’s been celebrating pretty heavily,” I say cheerfully.
“Celebrating what?” she enquires.
“Oh well you know he’s finally finished with his crappy little life, going to a better place.”
Her tired eyes narrow, “He looks like he’s dying,” she remarks.
“Yeah he kind of drank to much vodka.”
She scans the items, I hand her a five-pound note and she gives me the change we then leave her to do whatever late night check out people do.
We head down a back alley where I prop him up against a wall and pull out the lighter fluid. I look at him and remember how smug and tough he thought he was with the blood still in him. The lighter fluid pours nicely out the bottle onto his coat and face, I then place the empty bottle in his hands. Lighting the match I glance at him one last time, Mr. Dead Guy with a nice little hole in his stomach where red fluids flow free. I toss the match on him and he transforms into an awesome ball of fire.
Watching him burn I start to wonder what’s more disturbing the fact that this is the first person I’ve killed/set on fire and I’m completely calm or the fact that I’m thinking about cooking the marshmallows on his burning carcass.
Walking out of the back alley I find I’m staring straight down the barrel of a gun. I look up to see the two guys from earlier and a new guy, the one wielding the gun.
“That’s the bastard!” one of them shouts and before I know what I’m doing my fist is slamming into the side of the gunner’s face. I grab the gun out of his hand as he falls backwards turning it around I put a bullet straight into his face. His head explodes into a pulpy red spray of blood. Pulp is a great word. Pulpy pulp.
The two guys look at me then turn to run yet again, I kindly place a bullet in each of them and they fall to the cold hard pavement. One of the guys tries to get back up so I shoot him again. I look at the other guy lying on the floor sulking.
“You’ve got me in some real trouble here,” I state.
“You don’t know the half of it mate,” he says coughing out some blood.
I glance at him and then point the gun at his head, “I’m not your mate,” I say squeezing the trigger. His blood shoots up and sprays my face and clothes.
Shoving the gun down the back of my pants I wipe the blood off of my face with the sleeve of my hooded top and start to walk back home. What a nice night.

I’m almost home when I hear something, a guy shouting at me from behind, I twist around, meeting a bullet that hits me straight in the chest. I look down to see a hole there with blood shooting out. My left eye twitches and I drop to my knees. Looking up I see the guy that did this to me. It’s another thug with a gun and he looks very pissed off for some reason. I don’t know why he’s pissed off. After all, he’s not the one with a bullet somewhere within his mighty body organs. I fall onto my side shutting my eyes. Here I lay dead but dreaming and nothing but the sweet sweet metal tang of my own blood in my mouth to keep me company. Oh yeah and the bullet.

Mike

Too nonchalant.
Action sequences are something one might see on late-night TV movie channels.
I don't care about the character.
There's nothing real to it. It's glossed over. Why should I keep reading?
Spelling looks good. You could work on sentence structure.
The scene with the late-night clerk isn't the most realistic. It's hard to imagine someone dragging around a corpse, practically, when he could just leave it there, come back, and then take fire to it. Oh, someone might see him? But I can't know this for sure because I'm not getting much scene. There's people description but little, if any, environment.
The character's 'enemies' seem to pop up when they are cued. After the M.C. kills the guy, the other two people run away. So how do they find the MC & Corpse again? And then angry guy who shoots the MC pops out of the shadows. This is an example of deus ex machina - manipulating characters to suit the situation.
The lowest part of the story was when you wrote, "Pulpy pulp." Wow.
I really can't find anything original here. You should work on telling the story from an angle. Maybe back it off a perspective or two - switch to 3rd.

__________________
- Mike

J.S.S

This is all happening within a certain radius so he wouldn't be that hard to fined, I mean how far do you think that they think he can get with a corpse?

The guy didn't really appear from the shadows, he came running at him while MC was walking home.

We are meant to be hearing the main characters thoughts and I figure this would give a more personal feel.
Thanks for your thoughts, I shall use them next time I edit it.