Thread: The Hunted

Hey all! Here is Chapter 1 to a new novel I'm working on. Any and all feedback would be really appreciated. If you guys like it and want more, then I will post Chapter 2 later. Thanks!

Chapter 1
About 20 miles north of Grand Island, Nebraska

A storm was coming, that much Mortimer was certain of. Sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of his old but up kept house and smoking his pipe, he could feel a change in the winds and watched as the tall wheat and corn stalks in his small acre of land begin to blow in a different direction. Old Man Mort, as the kids in Grand Island called him, had lived on the property for well on 70 years now. He had come seemingly from nowhere and, as was their wont, the women gossiped about where he had come from and why. Mort hadn’t engaged in any discussions about his past, which only increased the gossip. Some said he was an axe-murderer, which suited Mort just fine since it kept visitors away except for the occasional brave Girl Scout selling cookies.
Mort gave a little smile as he saw the dark clouds which had been forming on the horizon all day finally unload what seemed like a good distance away. Mort’s sharp senses, however, could smell the scent of the rain and see it falling and he judged it to be at least ten miles away, plenty of time to gather everything inside and settle down for a rainy day. He reflected on his ability to see so far away from any point outside his house; one of the advantages of living in the Midwest: he could see anything coming from miles away…or anyone.
Mort stood up and stretched his tired limbs and put out his pipe before yelling into the house, “Zebadiah, there’s a storm coming! Close all the windows, wouldya?”
“Sure thing, Pop!” came the response, “And it’s Zeb now! Just Zeb!”
Mort grunted and muttered to himself, “Always something, changing his name every so many years, can’t keep up with it half the time…”
He made his way over to the shed and bolted it before slamming the padlock home. He began walking over to the clothing line when suddenly the wind died down to be replaced by an eerie calm. As Mort’s property was the only one within miles, not a sound was to be heard except for Mort’s shoes softly padding through his immaculate lawn. But for some reason, despite the fact that the calm before the storm was to be expected, Mort began to feel uneasy. His heart began to beat faster and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Mort whirled around and looked wildly through the corn stalks that bordered his yard, convinced he had heard something moving in them.
When he saw nothing, he continued on his way until he reached the clothing line and began hastily taking clothes down and throwing them over his arm. He didn’t know why, but suddenly he wanted to be inside. Right now. He turned his head again and looked around, sure someone was looking at him but still not seeing anything.
Suddenly, Mort threw his head back and screamed as pain lanced across his body, emanating from his heart. He dropped the clothes and unbuttoned the top few buttons of the flannel shirt he was wearing to expose his smooth and hairless chest. Embedded in the center of his chest in the skin was a multifaceted diamond. Normally clear and dormant, the diamond was now pulsating between its crystal color and a deep blood red.
“No,” gasped Mort in terror. “It cannot be.”
And with that, Mort collapsed on the ground as the rain finally began to fall. His long, graying hair fell away from his ears, revealing the points he had been so careful to hide for so long. If anyone had been looking, they would have seen clearly that Mort was an Elf.
Fortunately, Zeb, Mort’s son of the past thousand years, was there to help his father inside. He took one look at the red diamond and even though he didn’t know what it meant, he knew what he had to do. After putting his father in bed and wrapping him tightly in the blankets, he ran downstairs and started looking through cabinets and drawers in the kitchen with a frenzy. Zeb left the ransacked kitchen and moved on to the living room until he found a small red book with almost a hundred names and telephone numbers in it. He picked up the cordless phone in the living room and began to dial the first number:
Xavier Albertson 212-378-9624
Possible aliases: Percy Alvarez, Gregory Lloyd...

Colorado Springs, Colorado

Curtis was bored. He was standing at the back of the room at the University of Colorado rec center, watching his little brother and his little league baseball team get their trophies for inadequacy. Curtis yawned widely before his mother smacked him with a piece of paper and motioned for him to cover his mouth. Curtis rolled his eyes and his mother responded by mouthing “It’ll be over soon”. Curtis highly doubted it, so he got up stretched and walked out of the room, whispering “Bathroom” to his mother before leaving.
Curtis rubbed at his temples as he left, one of his constant headaches coming on again. He took a small bottle of Tylenol out of his pocket and shook out a couple of tablets, which he proceeded to dry-swallow. It took a lot out of him to keep his spells in place, but it was necessary to keep his cover and prevent anyone from knowing he was an Elf. Unlike Mort and Zeb, Curtis was not related to those he considered to be his “family”. Curtis was a wanderer by nature and he sometimes inserted himself into families so they would treat him like one of their own for a while before quietly wiping any memory of his existence from their minds and moving on. This particular family, the Petersons, had recently lost their son in a car accident, which only aided in Curtis’s “insertment” as there was already the memory of someone he simply had to manipulate. As Curtis was a younger Elf, only a couple hundred years old, and had not fully matured, he still looked the part of a teenage son. The only other part he had to cover up was his ears, but a simple concealment charm took care of those and the rest was history.
Curtis found a water fountain and took a few sips to make sure the pills got down and soon after began to feel his headache abating. He smiled and took a detour around the room where the never-ending festivities droned on and found a wide, spacious window giving a gorgeous view of Colorado Springs and Pike’s Peak in the distance. It was a very clear day with no clouds blocking the view of the mountains. It was days like this that made Curtis glad he had decided to stick around longer than usual. He had grown attached to this family and thought it would be more difficult than usual to leave. They were rich, true, which was a factor that could not be overlooked; but their kindness and their generosity was unparalleled by any of the other families that Curtis had been a part of, and this was the side of them Curtis had come to love.
He leaned against one of the pillars and looked out the window all the way up to the top of Pike’s Peak. He just had time to think, I should talk my family into hiking up there one of these days, before a wave of cold swept over his body. He straightened up, his breath catching in his throat as he squinted up at the top of one of the mountains next to Pike’s Peak. A small black mass was perched on the top of this mountain and it was this mass Curtis was so interested in. His Elven eyes were able to get in fairly close and what he saw made his heart skip a beat and his body to be wracked with uncontrollable spasms of fear.
He saw an enormous beast which closely resembled a bull. It stood on four legs, but none were hooves; its hands and feet were similar to those of humans, with the hands having opposable thumbs. The toes and fingers ended in huge curved claws. Its body had no hair on it save for the deep gray mane which grew at its neck and its skin was black as pitch and corded with muscle and sinew. The beast also had three tails, long as whips and ending in points. But it was its eyes which shocked Curtis so much. For even at a distance of nearly 14,000 ft. in the air and over ten miles away, the blank, solid white eyes were looking directly at him.
Curtis continued to stare at this beast as its nostrils flared red and it began to leap in great bounds down the mountain, coming for him. Curtis shook off his paralysis and raced back to the room, quickly composed himself before entering, and then silently got over to his mother.
“Mom,” he whispered frantically, “Can I go out to the car? I left something in there.”
“Sure,” his mom said, distracted. Curtis’s little brother had just gone up to get his trophy and she was taking pictures. “The keys are in my purse.”
Curtis practically dove for the purse in his haste to get at the keys, grabbed them, and walked as quickly and inconspicuously as he could out the door, flashing a quick smile at his father as he went.
When he was out of sight of the room, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself and sprinted out of the building towards the parking lot. He clicked the unlock button and his mother’s convertible Mustang answered with its customary beep. Curtis slid behind the wheel, fumbled the keys into the ignition and turned the car on. He threw the transmission into reverse and roared out of the parking lot. On his way off the campus, Curtis checked the compartment he had secretly installed in the car; when he saw his swords were still where he had stashed them, he took them out and put them on the passenger seat before flicking the latches back on the convertible roof and collapsing it into the back.
By now, his entire focus was on driving, as his catlike reflexes dodged and swerved around cars with an ease that would make Hollywood stunt drivers envious. Without taking his eyes off of the road, Curtis took his cell phone out of his pocket and found his way to the “Saved Drafts” folder and sent the one-word text to his mother, who at this moment was chatting with a few of the other baseball moms over cake and punch. This completed, he threw the cell phone on to the passenger seat as well.
Curtis raced around a corner, UCCS far behind him, and ripped on to I-25, heading south. Beside him, his cell phone lit up and began to ring. The screen showed the name “Mortimer” and, though under normal circumstances Curtis would have answered immediately, he let it go to voicemail. The news Mort could give him at this point was a day late and a dollar short, as the saying goes.

Mortimer’s House

“Hey, you’ve reached Curtis. Sorry I can’t answer the phone right now, but if you’d like to leave a message, I’ll get back to you A-sap. Thanks!”
“Curtis? This is Zebadiah. We have a Code Green on our hands. Meet at the rendezvous point as soon as you can. Please call me to let me know you got this message.”
Zeb hung up the phone with a sigh. Curtis was the first one who had not answered and he was also one of the last ones on the list. Zeb tried to think that Curtis might not have picked up the phone for a number of reasons, but somehow Zeb didn’t think so; he might have called too late. Whatever a Code Green was, Zeb didn’t think it was a good thing.
“Zebadiah,” he heard his father croak from upstairs. Zeb placed the phone back in the cradle and ran upstairs, the phone book in his hand.
“Father, what is going on?” Zeb asked, frantic for answers. “First you collapsed outside and now I’m having to call everyone and –”
“Quiet, Zeb,” whispered Mort. “I’ll tell you when the time comes but for now -” he stopped midsentence and let out a bout of large, sputtering coughs.
When he had stopped, Zeb said, “No, Dad. You need to tell me now. I’m scared, and everyone I’ve called has asked questions, horrible and frightening questions, that I can’t answer. I don’t know enough while everyone else does. I deserve to know.”
Mortimer quietly contemplated his son for a second before nodding and saying, “Very well. I suppose it is time. Code Green was derived a long time ago, even before you were born, to inform us all that the worst has happened. The Hunter has finally been re-released. We had sealed it away, and I was made the final Gatekeeper. The gem became active because the Hunter is loose.”
“Wh- what is this Hunter?” Zeb asked, fearing the answer.
“It is the perfect killing machine, Zeb,” replied his father. “It does not need to eat, drink, or rest and it can sense us, the Elves, no matter where we are in the world. It is incredibly smart and fearsomely cunning. You can run, but it will catch you. You can hide, but it will find you. And you can fight it, but you will lose. It has one purpose in life: to destroy us all and leave nothing left. There is no reasoning with a creature like this. You must go ahead to the meeting point as fast as you can.”
“What about you?”
“I will stay here,” said Mort, giving his son a look which left no room for argument. “You must pack your things and go. Everything you need is in a flap at the end of the contact list. Money. Bus route information. And a way for you to find the rendezvous location. Finish the numbers and leave me here. I will try to hold it off long enough for everyone to meet and move on.”
Zeb turned to leave, but Mort caught his arm. He looked back and Mort said, “Remember, you all can’t stay in one place too long or everyone will die. Has there been anyone who has not answered yet?”
“Curtis,” said Zeb in a strangled voice.
“Colorado,” whispered Mort, the color draining out of his face. “There’s not much time then. Go! And don’t look back.”
Zeb hugged his father and then ran off to finish the few calls he had left and to pack.

Colorado Springs, CO

Curtis finished listening to his voicemail and hung up the phone, his worst fears confirmed. He knew about this beast and its reputation of being unbeatable. But with his life on the line, Curtis wasn’t going to lie down and die; he was going to test that reputation and see if the stories were true.
He kept glancing in the rearview mirror to see where it was when suddenly, a large chunk of the interstate erupted about a mile ahead of him. Cars went flying and chunks of asphalt began raining down on the closer cars, many of which were crushed. The Hunter landed on the interstate as cars which were further away slammed on their brakes, though none of the drivers got out. This was understandable, as only Elves could see the Hunter. To the regular people, it just seemed like a portion of the interstate had blown up. But as the Hunter began to run towards Curtis, people saw several cars being crushed by an invisible force, so they got out of their cars and began running in the opposite direction.
Curtis used his mind to push the cars in front of him to the shoulders of the interstate, leaving a wide path for him to drive on. The Hunter was now running full speed towards him, so Curtis floored the accelerator and got the car up to over 100mph in a few seconds with a little more help from his mind magic. He wiped a hand across his nose and was surprised to see blood come away with it. All right, he thought grimly, no more magic. It’s all me now.
When the Mustang and the Hunter were less than a hundred yards away from each other and still coming on fast, Curtis grabbed his two swords and launched himself backwards out of the car, flipping into the air as he did so. The car and the beast collided head-on, creating an explosion which knocked Curtis back. He landed on the ground hard and slid, causing several large scratches and bruises to appear, but nothing major.
A large crater had been created by the force of the explosion and the smoke billowing out of it wouldn’t allow Curtis to see the creature. Suddenly, a claw burst out of the smoke and the creature slowly lumbered out until its entire monstrous form was shown clear. Standing at well over fifteen feet tall, the Hunter cast a wide shadow out in front of it. Pieces of the car’s metal frame stuck out at odd angles from the creature’s skin, but it didn’t seem to mind, or even know, that they were there.
Curtis and the Hunter stood there for a few seconds, gazing into each other’s eyes, trying to gauge their respective opponent’s next move. Curtis broke his gaze first, rushing forward with both swords held aloft. The Hunter lifted one of its massive paws into the air and swung it downward. A blow like that would have cleaved Curtis’s head from his shoulders and that would have been the end of it, but Curtis sensed the paw coming and slid under it just in time. He slid on his back under the creature’s belly, slicing his swords up as he slid so that they left two long gashes.
The Hunter reared back and bellowed in pain. Curtis rolled on to his stomach and pushed himself off of the ground without a moment’s hesitation and slammed his swords into the creature’s back. Another roar escaped the beast’s mouth and it attempted to reach behind it and pull Curtis off. But Curtis was in the center of the Hunter’s back, out of reach. He slowly began to climb its back, plunging his swords into its skin to use as hand-holds. Each blow released a large amount of deep red blood, which had already stained Curtis’s jeans and button-up shirt.
When Curtis had reached its neck, he swung a sword up high to deliver the final blow, but by climbing so high up its back, the Hunter was now able to reach him. It picked Curtis up and threw him away before stumbling down on all fours. Curtis rolled in midair and landed on his feet. He slid a few inches and then swiftly ran back to the Hunter. He jumped high into the air, flipping as he did so and catching the bottom of the Hunter’s jaw as he want. The Hunter’s head flopped backwards, exposing its neck. When Curtis had flipped around to be parallel with the ground, he swung his swords into the soft skin of the creature’s neck and was rewarded by a torrent of blood gushing out of it.
The Hunter tried to roar again, but the sound only came out as a muted gurgle as the blood filled its throat and lungs. Curtis landed on the ground and stood watching the creature as it clawed at its throat to stop the bleeding. It finally lost strength to hold itself up and fell onto all fours again. Curtis calmly walked up to it, swung his swords around to gain momentum, and thrust them into the Hunter’s hands, straight through and into the pavement beneath. The Hunter let out another muted gurgle. Even now, Curtis could see that it was panting heavily and losing life fast.
Curtis was so close that he could smell the creature’s rancid breath. He looked directly into the creature’s eyes and said, “Looks like I won.” And then he turned his back and walked away.
Curtis breathed a sigh of relief and was just thinking about finding a phone – his was wrecked – and calling Mortimer to let him know that it was over when he heard a scraping sound behind him. He whirled around and saw that, though the Hunter’s head had fallen and its eyes were closed, its paws were clenching, leaving deep troughs in the pavement. With each clench, a small, pulsing bump seemed to rise up on either of the creature’s sides, getting larger every time. Curtis had just time to register this before two more arms erupted out of the Hunter’s sides and landed with a solid thump on the ground. The Hunter’s eyes snapped open and it began to rise up again.
Curtis ran back to retrieve his swords out of the Hunter’s paws when he noticed that it was no longer bleeding…from anywhere. Curtis’s blood ran cold as he realized that it could heal at a rapid pace and even now could see that his swords had been pushed out of the beast’s hands. He picked them up and saw that the parts of the blades which had been in the Hunter’s hands had been melted; apparently, it also had blood which could melt metal. Just then, one of the Hunter’s new paws swung down, catching Curtis off guard, and slicing through the front of his shirt and into his chest, raking his face as it went.
Curtis flew backwards, losing his grip on the remnants of his swords as he want, and slammed down onto one of the car roofs which had been abandoned on the interstate as the driver fled. Curtis could taste blood and tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes but found he was too weak to do so. The Hunter stood up to its full height and lumbered over to where Curtis was lying in the dent on the car’s roof, which was slowly filling up with the Elf’s blood. It picked Curtis up and lifted him up to its face until they were once again looking into each other’s eyes. Then, the monster let out a deafening and triumphant roar into Curtis’s face, sweeping his medium-length blond hair away from his face.
The Hunter then arched one of its tails over its head and struck, straight through Curtis’s body. Curtis spasmed, let out one final breath of air, and was gone. On the end of the Hunter’s tail was the Elf’s heart, still beating in a futile effort to supply blood to a now-dead body. The beast lifted its tail to its mouth and let the heart slide off into its open mouth and then threw Curtis’s carcass aside. The Hunter let out another roar before dropping down to its six legs and beginning to run. It knew what its next target was, and he wasn’t too far away.

Colorado Springs, CO – several hours later

The strange explosion on I-25 made it quickly on to the local news channels and, as rumors and stories began to spread, on more nationalized news stations. ABC, MSNBC, and CNN began making their way out to Colorado in an effort to find the truth about this particular story, which was making less and less sense as more information became available.
A straggler named Tyler leaving the interstate had seen the beginning of Curtis’s battle with the Hunter, but since only Elves can see the Hunter, Tyler had seen Curtis seemingly grappling with only thin air. Being the smart guy that he was, Tyler had been recording video on his cell phone since he got out of his car and the few seconds glimpse he had gotten of Curtis was currently puzzling news broadcasters everywhere. They were all asking the same questions: Who was this guy? What the hell was he doing? How did he die? What happened to his heart?
Curtis’s family puzzled over this as well, turning on the news as soon as they got home, which took some time as their car was gone. The rest of the afternoon had gone smoothly for them. When Curtis’s mother received his text, she opened it up and saw the word “Libero”. She whispered it to herself and a pulse seemed to race outward, enveloping the entire room. When it had dissipated, no one in the room remembered a thing about Curtis, even his family. His former mother looked at the phone and assumed this text from “Curtis” was some sort of chain message from work. She promptly deleted it and erased “Curtis” from her phone; she hated chain messages. When they went outside after the team party was over, they noticed that the car was gone and so were the keys; logically, they reasoned that some punk from the school had swiped the keys during the party and had taken off with the car. After following the proper procedures with the police, they made their way home in a taxi and lived on the rest of their lives, never knowing of their former son or of his mythic heritage.

Mortimer’s House

The house was now quiet except for the steady pitter-patter of rain on the roof. Zeb had left the house not long after his father had talked to him and now Mort was alone, waiting. Unlike Curtis, Mort knew enough about the Hunter to know that fighting it would amount to nothing. And he knew, deep down in his ancient bones, that it was coming for him.
After a few hours, Mort’s ears picked up the sound of the beast coming and slowly made his way downstairs, wincing as he did so. It was suddenly very hard for him to move, but he knew it wouldn’t matter much longer. Mort opened the screen door and walked out on the lawn, facing the corn field. He could see the large mass that was the Hunter crushing a wide path through the field. Local farmers would speculate about crop circles, but the Elves would know what had happened.
The Hunter slowed its approach as it got close to Mort’s yard. When it was at the very edge of the field, it stopped completely and sniffed at the line between field and grass.
Mort took a deep breath and called out, “It’s OK. There’s nothing there. No tricks, no spells, and no curses.”
The Hunter looked into Mort’s eyes and, it seemed, into his soul before taking a tentative step forward. Satisfied that there was nothing amiss, the Hunter stood up on its hind legs and walked up to Mort. Mort’s breath caught in his throat as he noticed the two additional arms it had grown.
So it has begun, he thought grimly.
The Hunter swiftly picked Mort up and tore off his shirt, revealing his bare chest which had a large bandage wrapped around it. A look of confusion came across its face as it swiped the bandage away. It let out a bellow of rage as it noticed the diamond-shaped hole in Mort’s chest; the gem was gone.
“Yes,” gasped Mort, unafraid. “The gem is gone. You’re not getting your hands on it.”
The Hunter looked into Mort’s eyes and raised one of its tails over its head.
“I have no intention of letting myself become part of your collection,” spat Mort. He then cried out, “Fulgurem!” and looked up at the sky.
A bolt of lightning came down from the clouds and struck Mort straight on. His body exploded in a million points of light and the Hunter reeled back in surprise. Furious that its prey had escaped it, and it had failed to exact vengeance on one of the people who had trapped it all those years ago, the Hunter swung around and slammed all four of its massively muscled arms on Mort’s house, which instantly crumbled under the impact. The Hunter stood there for a few moments, panting, before dropping to its six legs again and sniffing at the air. It took off through the corn field, angling away from its former path. It had a job to do, and it had picked up another scent.

this is very good, although it is a bit confusing in places, but i like the overall story line, however i think that you need to edit it and cut some of the bits out, since you sort of seem to drift away from what i see to be the main point at time. It is a good start though! Keep at it!

Originally Posted by wolfe:)

this is very good, although it is a bit confusing in places, but i like the overall story line, however i think that you need to edit it and cut some of the bits out, since you sort of seem to drift away from what i see to be the main point at time. It is a good start though! Keep at it!

Can you give some specific examples of some "problem areas"? Much appreciated!

Cars have brakes, not breaks.

Chapter 1
About 20 miles north of Grand Island, Nebraska

A storm was coming, that much Mortimer was certain of. Sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of his old but up kept house and smoking his pipe, he could feel a change in the winds and watched as the tall wheat and corn stalks in his small acre of land begin to blow in a different direction. consider breaking up this sentence into two instead of a comma. The first part should be rephrased something like this: He sat in a rocking chair smoking his pipe on the front porch of his old but up kept house.Old Man Mort, as the kids in Grand Island called him, had lived on the property for well on 70 spell it seventyyears now. He had come seemingly from nowhere and, as was their wont, the women gossiped about where he had come from and why. Mort hadn’t engaged in any discussions about his past, which only increased the gossip. Some said he was an axeex-murdererunless if you mean someone who kills with an axe, which suited Mort just fine since it kept visitors awaya comma here except for the occasional brave Girl Scout selling cookies.

Overall, a nice descriptive first paragraph.

Mort gave a little smile can't recall now but there must be a one word verb to replace this... look it up as he saw the dark clouds, commawhich had been forming on the horizon all day, commafinally unload what seemed like a good distance away. Mort’s sharp senses, however, could smell the scent of the rain and see it falling and he judged it to be at least ten miles away, plenty of time to gather everything inside and settle down for a rainy day. He reflected on his ability to see so far away from any point outside his house; one of the advantages of living in the Midwest: he could see anything coming from miles away…or anyone.sentence too long. needs to be broken up into two like this: He reflected on his ability to see so far away from any point outside his house. He could see anything or anyone coming from miles away; one of the advantages of living in Midwest.

This second paragraph seems contradictory. You are saying: first, he can SEE the rain falling at some distance (as any person would); second, he can SEE and SMELL the rain due to his 'sharp senses'; third, he can SEE it because he was in Midwest...... which one is it you actually want to say? Also, for those of us who doesn't know the terrain of the Midwest you need to give some explanation why living in Midwest means being able to see miles away.... is it because Midwest is elevated?

Mort stood up and stretched his tired limbs and put out his pipe before yelling into the house, “Zebadiah, there’s a storm coming! Close all the windows, wouldya?”

“Sure thing, Pop!” came the response, “And it’s Zeb now! Just Zeb!”

Mort grunted and muttered to himself, “Always something, changing his name every so many years, can’t keep up with it half the time…”Why is he pausing when the sentence is over? get rid of ellipses (...)

He made his way over to the shed and bolted it before slamming the padlock home. He began walking replace this with walked over to the clothing line when suddenly avoid adverbs as much as you canthe wind died down to be replaced by an eerie calm. As Mort’s property was the only one within miles, not a sound was to be heard except for Mort’s shoes softly padding through his immaculate lawn. But for some reason, despite the fact that the calm before the storm was to be expected, Mort began to feel replace this with felt uneasy. His heart began to beat faster and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Mort whirled around and looked wildly through the corn stalks that bordered his yard, convinced he had heard something moving in them.

When he saw nothing, he continued on his way until he reached the clothing line and began hastily taking clothes down and throwing them over his arm. Short choppy sentences works for action filled with tension, so consider breaking up the first sentence into three: He saw nothing. He walked until he reached the clothing line. He hastily took the clothes down, throwing them over his arm.He didn’t know why, but suddenly he wanted to be inside. Right nowit was a past incident so then instead of now, anyway remove it altogether, the readers can understand without it. He turned his head again and looked around, sure someone was looking at him but still not seeing anything. you are insulting the intelligence of the readers now. Remove it!

Suddenly, unnecessary adverb means amateurish.... remove itMort threw his head back and screamed as pain lanced across his body, emanating from his heart. He dropped the clothes and unbuttoned the top few buttons of the flannel shirt he was wearing to expose his smooth and hairless chest. Embedded in the center of his chest in the skin was a multifaceted diamond. Normally clear and dormant, the diamond was now pulsating between its crystal color and a deep blood red.Now, I am really intrigue

“No,” gasped Mort in terror. “It cannot be.”

And with that, Mort collapsed on the ground as the rain finally began to fall. His long, graying hair fell away from his ears, revealing the points we need something more then 'points' to visualize thishe had been so careful to hide for so long. If anyone had been looking, they would have seen clearly that Mort was an Elf.

Fortunately, Zeb, Mort’s son of the past thousand years, was there to help his father inside. He took one look at the red diamond and even though he didn’t know what it meant, he knew what he had to do. After putting his father in bed and wrapping him tightly in the blankets, he ran downstairs and started looking through cabinets and drawers in the kitchen with a frenzy. Zeb left the ransacked kitchen and moved on to the living room until he found a small red book with almost a hundred names and telephone numbers in it. He picked up the cordless phone in the living room and began to dial the first number:

Xavier Albertson 212-378-9624

Possible aliases: Percy Alvarez, Gregory Lloyd...

Sorry, I didn't finish reading the story. Overall, I think this is going to be an interesting story. I like the descriptions but seem little amateurish with your choice of words and phrasing. It definitely need some more drafts. You certainly have talent. Keep writing!

Originally Posted by Olly Buckle

Cars have brakes, not breaks.

Good catch! Thanks! What did you think about the chapter?

You want the reader to be on the side of the Protagonist, I just want to pluck Mortermers/Morts ear. The story sounds like your in a rush.Slow it down let the reader paint a picture of what your trying to convey in there minds eye. Changing the name/nick name within the 1st paragraph is an example of the story moving to fast. This is what i see as a reader.