MerryLlama

Hi, im kinda new to writing so here goes, this my first attempt at a whole story. What do you think? Any good?
Critique and advise much appreciated

Part One

I dipped my pen nib in the ink and held it over the fresh sheet of paper before me, I frowned, then shook my head returning the quill pen to its pot and rubbing my eyes. It seemed strange, bringing up these old memories. I was not even sure I could, so long had I tried to forget; nevertheless, my friend had requested it. He said people wanted, nay needed to know. I sighed, opened my eyes and painfully stretched my old knobbly fingers. I looked at them, remembering a time when they were young and smooth. Memories suddenly flickered at the back of my mind, a cold day, a pub. I picked up my quill, dipped it in the ink again and, after only a moment’s hesitation, began to write. A story of murder, lies, redemption and love. My story.

I crouched down in the dark shadow of a doorway. The full moon floated ghostly in the darkening sky above, strings of clouds chasing themselves in front of her. Unfortunately the street I was in was little improved by her silvery light. It was dark and wet. Wooden houses leaned precariously over the street, their tired wood creaking in the icy wind. Shop fronts stood dark and shuttered. The exception to this was the bright pub across the street from my hiding place. Outside it hung a crude, rusty sign that read “The Hook and Ancor.” Obviously spelling was not their strong point. I sighed and wrapped my black woollen cloak tighter around my broad shoulders. It was going to be a long wait. The smell of meat and beer drifted tantalizingly across from the pub, my stomach rumbled loudly. Times had been lean of late and I had had barely enough money to pay for the rent. However, I comforted myself, with the pay from this job tonight I would have enough for a feast. With that in mind, I forced myself to wait patiently. The sky got gradually darker, fading from navy to black. A grubby lamplighter with a hacking cough shuffled slowly down the street, illuminating the sparse gas lamps. A few people wound their way to and from the pub, which was still glowing brightly in the dark, other than that the night was still. I patiently scrutinized the face of each person that left, searching for my mark. The wind had died and the moons brightness was now muffled behind thick clouds, it was probably just as well for my work. The cold settled deeper into the night. I shivered, shifting on my freezing stone step, rewrapping my cloak about me, it didn’t make much difference. The cold helped me stay awake but I was still almost dosing as a large man stepped out into the street. He was soon followed by a noisy group of drunken friends. I shifted in the shadows, rubbing my eyes, and tried to see his face in the wavering light from the lamps.
“Turn,” I muttered shifting from my step but keeping to the shadows. Then, roughly cuffing one of his drunken friends for barging him, he turned and I sighed in relief, it was him. The mark was exactly as my informer had described. A tall, thickset man with a scraggly beard and permanent scowl. A knife sheath hung at his belt and he looked around, his eyes sharp and alert. He obviously hadn’t drunk tonight. He was currently glaring at his friends who were mock fighting, the half full bottles in their hands sloshing. The group finally set off down the muddy street. I straighten fully and stretched painfully as warmth returned to my chilled limbs. I set off after my mark.
I kept to the shadows as I walked behind him. He looked ill at ease and glowered repeatedly at his friends as they weaved down the street singing loudly. I smothered a grin. It was like following a beacon. The man led his friends on a long roundabout route but finally arrived at a small old wooden house, the sort that was common in the outer parts of the city. His drunken friends tumbled in, complaining about the long route but he simply waited until they were inside then paused by the door and looked around carefully. I was concealed in the black shadow of another doorway and his eyes drifted over my hiding place and round. Finally, when it seemed he was satisfied, he closed the door and I heard the sound of several bolts being pulled across. I smiled, as if they would keep me out

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The glass is neither half full nor half empty... it's twice as big as it needs to be.

A-L

Nice work on this, seriously I enjoyed it.

omginternetlord

Semi-colon after mind?

Apart from this yeah it's nice and descriptive, but I think you really need to cut down on the adverbs. Try and make it more concise and less wordy.

For example here:


Two adverbs in the same sentence is just too much.

stale911

Rather well written story in my mind. I enjoyed it right from the begining.
Keep it up, I would be delighted to read more.

MerryLlama

Thanks for your comments and encouragement
its much appreciated

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The glass is neither half full nor half empty... it's twice as big as it needs to be.

Darkness

MerryLlama, let me start off by telling you that I have yet to start my first novel idea.

Now thats out of the way I have to tell you that I loved how you have written this. I think it is very well worded. However, here are some things that I think you could look at.

Firstly, I have no idea whether the main character is male or female.

Secondly, I don't know when this is set. I know it's probably not in our world but I still don't know what sort of time period I'm looking at. I mean, are there guns, or is it still swords. You write about and ink pot and quill and a lamplighter which makes me think it is set with swords and kingdoms and such. But the way the protagonist is telling the story seems too nonchalant and all too familiar with how young people talk these days as evidenced by the last sentence.

And lastly, your prologue. Not necessarily something that needs to be looked at but I think it could be extended to a half-chapter's length. Probably go into a bit more detail about how much his/her age affects his/her day to day living. Then you could have the friend come to visit and you could show the strength of the friendship here (which may be something you want to bring up later on in the story). If you do elaborate the prologue, I think it would be cool if you kept the identity of the friend secret but drop a few small hints as to who it might be so that when the reader gets more into the story, he might be guessing as to which character asked the assassin to write his chronicles.

Just my 2c worth, mate. I think it's really great though and this would be the sort of thing I would read. Keep it up.

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This sig is temporary until I find something a little more profound. :p

MerryLlama

Thanks for the advise its really useful, I shall definitely use your suggestions

ML
ps its actualy a man but I agree I have not actually said that lol I shall put it in

__________________

The glass is neither half full nor half empty... it's twice as big as it needs to be.