El Busker (1,225 words) - Writers Forum

J.S.S · 06-19-2007, 07:21 AM

This is my first short story so it would be much appreciated if you could give me some criticism as well as telling me what your thoughts on the plot are. Thanks in advance.

Edit: Just went over it again and corrected a few small errors and changed some stuff.

El Busker

My hand plays across the guitar and music spills forth from the vibrating chords. My hand strums down again on the guitar and I work up a rhythm. House of the Rising Sun begins to fill the street around me.
I play the song perfectly and I don’t sing the lyrics. I stand there and play, not uttering a word, just simply observing the people around me.
My eyes scan every person that passes, calmly looking for him, strumming away on my guitar and not missing a chord. A woman that passes throws some change into the open guitar case at my feet and I nod appreciatively at her.
I’m a busker, I busk, it’s what I do. My coat is tightly zipped up, concealing the two revolvers strapped to my chest.
I carry on playing calmly as if what I am planning on doing is a natural everyday thing. I gulp and continue to play.
My eyes continue to scan every passing person, every small child and every guide dog then my song comes to an end. I’m out of music.
I bring it to a close and pretend to adjust my guitar. A guy passes and chucks some change and a bus ticket into my guitar case. I nod appreciatively then finish my fake adjusting and begin to play House of the Rising Sun again. I continue to scan the crowds and as I get back into the song, I see him.
He walks casually across the street surrounded by seven so-called mates. They laugh and joke with one another. Two of the men look slightly more serious and are closer to my target than the others. I presume these are his main guards and that none of them can be carrying anything heavier than a handgun.
My chest begins to tighten slightly as they enter their usual bar. I quickly bring the song to a close and dive to my knees, scooping up the change that had carelessly been thrown in the case. I place the guitar in to the case gently and lock it up.
Picking up the case I begin to walk over to the small seedy looking place. I zip the top of my jacket down about an inch and push the door to the bar open.
As I approach the counter three of the guys I’m following carry pints back to their table in the corner. The bar man asks what he can get me and I tell him a coke with no ice. He begins to pour it and I look around as casually as possible in this situation.
He hands me the coke and tells me that it will be a pound and fifty pence, I had him two pound and he hands me fifty pence back. I walk over to the table next to the group of guys and place my guitar case on the floor under it. I take a sip of my drink then place it on a coaster.
I walk over to the jukebox attached the wall next to a pool table and insert the fifty pence. My finger hovers over the touch screen and selects Golden Brown by The Stranglers. The music comes on instantly and fills the small bar.
I turn around and zip down my jacket. Everything seems to go slow as I reach inside and feel the handle of my revolver. They sit in the corner laughing at disgusting sexist jokes, completely oblivious to my slowly raising hand. The bar man sees the gun, his eyes widen and he dives to the floor.
My finger squeezes the trigger and everything speeds up again as a bullet rips through the air and blasts into one of the men closest to my main target. I quickly move my hand and shoot the other trusted man. His flesh flies into the air and blood shoots forth from his head.
The rest, disorientated, pull out their guns. I quickly shoot open a few more heads and they raise their arms to shield their faces as more blood explodes forth from former friend’s heads.
My main target stands up and aims a gun at me. I quickly shoot his hand and he drops his gun while falling backwards. I take out the remaining three and walk across the bloodstained floor, which squelches under my shoes. I pull out my other revolver and unload some more led into the heads of the bodies slumped over the table just in case they happened to survive my first assault.
Their fearless leader is knelt on the floor clutching his bloodied hand. I raise the revolver and aim it down at his head. He looks up mouth open in pain and eyes like that of a scared dog.
I squeeze the trigger and as the bullet hits his head the force of such a close shot nocks him backwards and spews yet more blood onto the floor. I look at his face his expression didn’t change. I shoot him a second time then let the remaining bullets in the revolver’s chamber drop to the floor.
The guns slip back in to their holsters and I zip up my coat, empty the dead peoples wallets, sip my drink one last time and pick up my guitar case.
As I leave the song on the jukebox finishes and the bar man lifts his head. I head to the station away from scummy city of Rotherham.

Once upon a time I had a brother. I admired him, looked up to him. He taught me how to play the guitar and how to read music. We were close once.
One day my brother made some new friends. He started to hang out with them more and more. He used to come home sniffing and scratching his chin.
He started doing coke, lots of it. He overdosed. No one cared. His new friends did nothing except remove all connections from him to them. They didn’t care and they hardly noticed. They showed no sign of guilt what so ever.
I swore I would have my vengeance on what these men had done to my brother. I asked around about them and pretty soon found out they were the Rotherham mafia. When they herd I was asking questions they came after me so I headed to Manchester airport and caught a cheap flight to Mexico.
While in Mexico I played my guitar for money and food and became known as El Busker. After a year or so playing in Mexico I decided it was time to return to Rotherham and exact my revenge.
I arrived at Manchester and armed myself before heading back to Rotherham. I began busking in Rotherham, finding my target and watching him. I observed his routine for a few months until I eventually decided that it needed to be done as soon as possible.
I saw the bar as a perfect opportunity so using my gun slinging skills, which I had learned in Mexico, I shot all of them. I killed their leader and his most trusted men, I got my revenge.
The rest of the Rotherham mafia would now fight over whatever remains, with everyone wanting control it would divide them and they would eventually kill one another. Some would probably just give in and pull out their support but either way I doubt it will have control of this city ever again.
A train pulls into the station and I get up, check my ticket and board it.

Ice Tea Atonach · 06-20-2007, 06:47 AM

Its a good story, great background and good potential but it seemed unrealistic to me. There is no way someone could kill six armed and trained men without missing a single shot and then somehow walking out of the bar completely unperturbed. Still the ideas were good, maybe elaborate some more, show a flashback of something dramatic that happened to your MC's brother. Sorry if it sounds harsh, but you dont learn anything from lies unless you can see though them. Still, it was a good read and it did keep me interested.

Crazy_dude6662 · 06-20-2007, 09:56 AM

it was okay, i noticed some things though you spelled lead as led.
you said "i zip the top of my jacket down about an inch and push the door to the bar open." i think it would sound better as i lowered the zip or somthing to that effect.
i liked it although it could have been longer and it sounded fairly unrealistic but its a good start, it might be more realistic if it was longer and there was some problem with shooting the men.