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rickyknight1
July 22nd, 2016, 04:40 AM
I drive my wild horse, a black mustang; i paint it's dreams on a canvas, it roars and leaves tracks in dust behind me. I ignite my lighter, the orange flame represents a symbol- i have a burning passion.

Im running late to my police department, lately- i've been working there as a free lance detective, well sort of. I kind of prefer the job when it calls me, i hate being stuck in an office. I inhale my cigarette, a school of tabocco swims down my throat my lungs hate me.

Im sweating heavily, i've been out of work for some time, so I'm a little nervous getting right back in, my boss called me in with a score- he wants me to go under cover and help solve a murder.

I don't know why i do police work, it's dangerous, people get hurt. But i've always had a drive for campaigning against injustice, i don't tolerate lawlessness. Im not just choosing to do this job- it's more like a calling; it's as if i've been chosen.

I exhale the smoke, a pale blue dustball; it swivels around in a formless display. I enjoy things that can float, i often imaging myself as a plank- drifting on top of a lake, until a waterfall kicks it downwards.

I cock my black pistol it's a deadly viper, at the sound of my flute- it can jump at your throat, sinking in it's deadly posion. I never hold back my bullets- i always shoot to kill. I cough out a bit of blood, i've been quiting cigarettes for over a year now; one day they will be the death of me.

I walk into the station, the desks are crawling with paper work. The officers are doing their ultimate best, i enjoy watching them. "Jean! Get in here." That is Frederick, my boss- he's the man that I'm looking for!

"Morning! how's the coffee?" I asked him. He doesn't reply, he just sits down on his chair and gives me a stern look, "Sit down." I grab a seat facing his front desk, then he throws me a pile of folders.
"I need you to fix this, im getting rammed up about this case. Five murders on school grounds, in two years. What the hell is going on!?"

There's been some strange killings involivng students in our school, a local university. And yet we haven't been able to catch anyone. We suspect that the local gangs are involved, and if that's true- there is bound to be a drug raid.

Im being sent in to investigate, he wants me to go under cover- while posing as a student. I'm going to sniff out this rat. I accept the job, it's time for me to let my pitsol do the talking.

ned
July 22nd, 2016, 06:13 PM
hello - this piece has an odd form - disparate thoughts soley regarding the narrator, without any narrative to engage the reader.
each one starting with 'I' - with metaphors well wide of the mark - and it all gets a bit tiresome after a while.

represents a symbol - a symbol is a representation

I inhale my cigarette, - wholly?
i've always had a drive for campaigning against injustice - like what? - tell uis more.
a school of tabocco swims down my throat my lungs hate me - tobacco or smoke? wet or dry?

Im sweating heavily-I'm a little nervous - an over-reation? - cuts against the cool image engendered.

I enjoy things that can float - really? - not that interesting, so get on with the story.

no, the gun is nothing like a viper - according to your own metaphor.
i always shoot to kill - needs an explanation, no matter how unhinged.

I cough out a bit of blood - where? on his shirt, on the steering wheel - make it real, instead of a another
bland statement - and the sentiment at the end is way too obvious.

desks are crawling with paper work - crawling invokes animation
The officers are doing their ultimate best - a really strange thing to observe, for me
i enjoy watching them - again, strange - and cuts against previous statements.

I grab a seat facing his front desk - where else? = I grab a seat - look out for unnecessary descriptions

What the hell is going on!? - not the sort of thing you'd expect from the head of homocide.

There's been some strange killings - why strange?
we haven't been able to catch anyone - not the language of a seasoned cop.
We suspect that the local gangs are involved - why? are the deaths linked? is there evidence? have the gangs been questioned?
this is the interesting stuff to the reader, to inform what the narrator is getting into.

I'm going to sniff out this rat - already certain it is one person.
it's time for me to let my pitsol do the talking - really? - what about a bit of investigating before blundering in with all guns blazing?

you have the opening to a good story here - and a nice idea, in the part-time cop having to go under-cover.
but give it narration, for drive and focus - 'as I jump another red light I reach for my cigarettes....' - put the immediate into the
internalising. Start with the narrator's goal and the hurried journey - 'The engine roars as I set off for.........'

and consider your word-choices - every one - can they better describe a car, a police station, etc etc
leave out the metaphors, and keep it simple - I cock my black pistol (why?) my only trusted partner etc will do.
the sentiment will still come across.

with a bit of work, I would look forward to reading the edit
Ned

Jay Greenstein
July 23rd, 2016, 02:20 AM
I drive my wild horse, a black mustangWhen you read this, it has intent and context, and so has meaning and emotional content for you. But what about the reader? All they have is what the words suggest to them, based on their background, not yours. When a reader sees "wild horse they think horse. Was that your intent? No. Your intent that the reader would visualize a car. But intent doesn't make it to the page, only the words do.

Fiction is written like a self guiding trail that has meaning to the reader as it's read.

The short version: To write like a fiction writer you need to know what a fiction writer knows.

rickyknight1
July 23rd, 2016, 03:43 AM
I appreciate all the help guys, really.

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rickyknight1
July 30th, 2016, 02:08 AM
Part 1 (Revised)

The shrill of the desert, is like the outcry of an empty tomb. It's a barren wasteland, deserving only death- night times are immensely frigid. Making it resemble an abandoned grave.

I stray, not too far from this, living in a tower; a magnificent hotel.
I was resting a peacful slumber, when suddenly- I was awakened!

My dreams got shattered into pieces. I reach over to silence my alarm clock. The one whom at 11- promises me sleep, but then later, only to rob me of it.

I look around and reach for my cigarette; blood stains still present on my shirt. Battle wounds, the same old war between me and nicotine.

Im a cop and there's only two reasons why that is. It started when I was yay high, a kid with a broken home. I had no father, my mom spent my teenage years depressed.

I had no guidance, no friends really. I somehow became fascinated with the men on t.v, the ones from action flicks!

It was them who inspired me to become more...dedicated. They were always running after the 'bad guys'. I immitated them because, they never lacked a gun. A very powerful weapon.

However, lately, I found myslef in a pickle. I don't quite know who I am, and I don't fully accept the reasons why I became a cop.

It's gotten so bad that I've become distracted, the boss took notice, and has taken me off the force- on temporary leave.

Now after several months, he wants me back in, working under cover, on a drug case. Today's my big day because, I can't let him down or I'll be out for good.

Zorg
July 30th, 2016, 03:55 AM
The revised version is a little better, but let me ask you this, and I'm not being mean here: English is not your primary language, correct? I think that might explain why some the sentence structure seems a bit disjointed and some of the verbiage a bit 'off.'

Example: The shrill of the desert, is like the outcry of an empty tomb Deserts are largely associated with silence. I'm not sure what you mean by outcry coming from something empty.

blood stains still present on my shirt. Battle wounds, the same old war between me and nicotine. Confusing because yellow is commonly associated with nicotine.
the ones from action flicks! Not certain why flicks has to be marked as an exclamation.

Those are just a couple that jump out but your piece has many other instances of that which kind of makes the reader scratch his head.

Don't worry. Things will fall into place.

rickyknight1
July 30th, 2016, 04:00 AM
The revised version is a little better, but let me ask you this, and I'm not being mean here: English is not your primary language, correct? I think that might explain why some the sentence structure seems a bit disjointed and some of the verbiage a bit 'off.'

Example: The shrill of the desert, is like the outcry of an empty tomb Deserts are largely associated with silence. I'm not sure what you mean by outcry coming from something empty.

blood stains still present on my shirt. Battle wounds, the same old war between me and nicotine. Confusing because yellow is commonly associated with nicotine.
the ones from action flicks! Not certain why flicks has to be marked as an exclamation.

Those are just a couple that jump out but your piece has many other instances of that which kind of makes the reader scratch his head.

Don't worry. Things will fall into place.
No English is not my first language. I didn't know whether it was apparent or not. I've been practicing, and getting better at writing.

rickyknight1
August 6th, 2016, 01:05 AM
Part 2

I look around in my big empty room, I feel a sudden pain in my lungs. I rush to the bathroom and cough up blood in the sink.

I've been chain smoking for a long time- it's a hard habit to break. I look up in the mirror, at my visage; I fail to recognize the man I see.

I've made bad choices in my life, I've killed men. People don't deserve to die- certainly not by me. A chain smoking, fatherless misfit, that carries a gun.

I can still see some of their faces, at night. I don't know how to make them go away, but I've become accustomed to them.

I don't think I'm right for this career. Al though being an officer, is who I am. I can't see myself doing something else. I'm made for action, I can't allow criminals to go unpunished- not in my city.

I walk over to my closet and dress myself. I wear my lucky trench coat along with my black pistol. I load it and cock it.
I shouldn't go in, not like this.

I feel hesitant and doubtful. I want to call and tell my boss it's over; I know that in warfare, it's taught that one moment of hesitation will equal your death.

A split second decision is all that it takes. I'm bound to miss the mark, I'm plagued by uncertainty, my enemies will kill me in an instant.

However, some of me is still better than none. I decide to leave the house- I cowardly walk to my car, but once I ignite the engines things change.

I hear the sound of it's roar, and it sparks a fire within me. I drive it like a wild horse- I paint it's dream on a canvas, leaving tire tracks and a cloud of dust behind me.

I light a new cigarette and I watch a flawless cloud of smoke swivel into thin air. I cough, but then I continue to drive while smoking.

I hear the alert on my radio. "I need back up! I have an officer down, there's been multiple shots fired. Get a freaking team over here now!!!"
I think my boss will have to wait, justice is top protocol. I feel a strand of sweat glide down on the side of my face.

Zorg
August 7th, 2016, 03:08 AM
Getting there. But keep this in mind: out of 13 paragraphs, 11 of them start with "I." May want to look at how you start your sentences.

shivanib
August 8th, 2016, 09:25 PM
This is a neat thread so far and I'm loving the iterations!

I'll try to give you more time later, but one thing that I noticed was the incorrect use of the possessive 'it's' a lot. 'its' is what I think you meant to use a lot. Don't use 'it's' unless it reads okay with 'it is'.

Keep on writing! It's hard, but its rewards are bountiful. :)

rickyknight1
August 8th, 2016, 10:16 PM
This is a neat thread so far and I'm loving the iterations!

I'll try to give you more time later, but one thing that I noticed was the incorrect use of the possessive 'it's' a lot. 'its' is what I think you meant to use a lot. Don't use 'it's' unless it reads okay with 'it is'.

Keep on writing! It's hard, but its rewards are bountiful. :)
Wow, thank you!

rickyknight1
August 12th, 2016, 01:07 AM
Part 3

The car roles up to the scene of crime, I see an officer and his injured partner hiding behind a car, that's been shot up. I crawl out of mine in order to avoid being shot. I see six men up ahead in an abandoned warehouse, they've taken an officer hostage.

We've been tracking these goons for months, we had an inside man working deep undercover. He got spotted- they brought him here for the slaughter; these two officers immediately responded to his distress call, and came to his rescue.
I get down next to them while looking at the female officer who's bleeding out and desperately need paramedics. I ask the officer, "How is she!?". He's fighting back tears, he looks regretful at his decision for coming, but he's done everything I would. Al though his decision to come here is the sole reason for his partner being shot.

If I had been in his situation I would of came also, without waiting for back up, there was no time- if he hadn't come when he did, our inside man would of been dead by now. "I want to get the pig who shot her." He said. "I had no time to wait for back up, they've been on to us and were planing to kill him right here."
"The moment we showed up and got out of the car, they opened fire. That's when my partner got shot. They have fully automated weapons." He said. I place my hands on his shoulder and reassure him that things are going to get better, and that his partner is coming out of this alive.

As the words were rolling off my tongue, the ambulance showed up. Soon after, so did an entire squadron. I walk over to the captain and filled him in, but I also asked for permission to take lead. It's time for me to do what I do best.
We walk over to the front of the building, snipers are over the edge of the buildings next door. A small platoon is carrying a huge doorbuster. "Alright, on my count- we break down this door!" He said. The man inside open fire, they blaze us with bullets.

We all hide, duck, and take cover. I feel my lungs starting to collapse- I cough heavily. But I can't let this slow me down. I yell out, "Give me some cover fire! Im going inside, keep your men shooting at the windows. I don't want to alert them of my arrival."
The officers shoot to keep them occupied, I sneak around the side to a busted window. I slowly get in. It's dark but I can hear them upstairs. The first goon jumps out at me, I immediately put two leads in his cranium- I make soup out of his brain, blood spattering everywhere.

I crouch down and march up the stairs. One of the goons is using a AK-47 to shoot out the window. He marks up the cars with bullet holes and sets two of them on fire. He's doing this to create a smoke screen- he wants to eliminate our snipers' field of vision. The rest of them are shooting the swat team outside.
I hear my platoon creep in behind me, a small team made up of five fellow officers. I signal them. I ask for three to join, and the other two are to stay behind and keep watch. The goons haven't spotted us yet- I give a signal to take out the man using the Ak-47. When they do, the other goons quickly retaliate.

I jump behind a crate full of boxes. "You can forget about getting out of here alive." I said. Their leader responds to my comment, "Death will soon come for us all." He proceeds to recite a religious saying in his own native tongue while making gestures at the ceiling.
I wait for him to finish, I tell my boys to wipe them off the map. I roll out from behind the boxes to face the leader. I point my gun straight at his face, and he does the same. "It's too late for you, give up now." I reply. He pauses for a second, then he smiles.

He looks at me, and I can already tell what's going through his head; he's going to take the shot. The moment his finger budges- I squeez my trigger. I let off a couple rounds and hit him in his chest. I watch his eyes roll back and body fall down. He's rapidly fading away- he gasps for a few last breaths and then he dies.
I don't need a reminder for what I do, I no longer ask questions about it. I have my answer, I think in life we all have to learn to make decisions, some of them are easy while others are less so. The hardest struggle will always be about who you are. I know I've made the decision to become an officer but now I realize something- I didn't make this choice solely on my own, but rather, it picked me. I was chosen.



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