kirennia
Part of the furniture
- Joined
- Dec 26, 2003
- Messages
- 3,857
Don't know if any of you remember me posting a piece before about a book I'm writting at the moment. It's no doubt going to be a long time in the making but having just finished re-reading the first 6 chapters and amending them, I thought I'd post up the prologue and see if there are any areas I could improve it.
For anyone who's seen it before (don't think I've shown it on these forums), this is the latest version and the first one I've been happy with. Be critical and please point out any areas where I fall down, I swear my ideas of a good sentence differ to the norm so I'll be interested to find out what people say about it. Gonna be reformatted so the italics and spacing might be a bit off...
Prologue
I was running. The cold steel of my revolver pressed deeply between the aching side of my shin and the coarse black leather of my boot. The faster I ran, the further it loosened itself from the confines of my sock but I didn’t care. I continued to gain speed, attempting to escape from the gun blasts I’d witnessed just a brief moment ago. As typical of this bitter climate, the rainfall, a resentful cascade of icy shards falling from the sky was little to stop my feet from running away with me. Should I stop, I’d surely not be given the chance to live to regret it. As someone now a key to the urban truths, my secret was worth more then my life. I was no-one to decide whether I should stop or not. How dare I contemplate stopping, if just for a second to catch my breath whilst holding something so precious in the inner confines of my jacket. Proof of what I held in my mind.
She’d taken me here on purpose, a safe haven from those who’d wish to keep her quiet, a safe haven away from the normal bounds of the city. How could they have known we were meeting so far from home? Her life had been ended through her attempt to reveal the truth to me. The featurette of a goddess I’d so wanted to meet in different circumstances, now lying cold and empty of life on the floor of her underprivileged home, bathing in her own blood.
Glancing just for a moment behind me, I took note of the distant shadows of three men emerging from the undergrowth I’d ventured forth from, now facing my direction as I ducked into the closest thing to shelter I could find, an unwelcoming, deserted alleyway. I reached down for my firearm knowing full well these people would not be open to reason and unfastened it from my muddy boot strap. Concealing it would only slow me from the job in hand so I continued down the alley, gun at the ready attempting to evade the faceless executioners. The end of the alley led me to another road running seemingly parallel to the last. Fearful of continuing my sprint past a blind corner I pressed my back onto the cold corner of the wall, gaining composure, ready to turn.
In a full single motion of my body, I pivoted on my left foot around the corner, ready to take aim at any who had tried to cut me off. Only a brief flash of white light followed almost instantly by a crack of thunder overhead was there to greet me as I nervously shuddered in surprise. It didn’t matter; the street was clear so I continued forward down another alley directly in front of me. The lamps on each wall were no longer in any condition to illuminate this decrepit part of town but that had no bearing on my choice to venture down the second alley. Normally a cause of thinking twice, the darkness would become a tool in my escape, enabling me to seek a hidden refuge.
I knelt down with my back to the wall between a crapped out, rusty old ten by six trash bin to my left and several black bags of waste on my right; the stench of rotting food engulfing, making me lurch in disgust no matter how hard I pressed my hand to my mouth. The passage, lined with filth no matter where I glanced, housed evidence of things I cared not to think about. This squalor was no place to stay, but a perfect place to take cover temporarily if I just bore with it for a quick moment. A deepening puddle of water beneath where I’d chosen to hide slowly soaked through the rugged leather of the boots I’d chosen to wear in disguise of my normal uniform.
Now shaking in the unrelenting fall of even heavier rain, thinking of the flawless, now diminished body of the archangel, I reached into my right jacket pocket and revealed my now cracked phone. It was okay, even without a screen I’d know which number to dial. My trusted colleague, only second to myself in trust would be the one person who might be able to keep me safe. The phone was answered swiftly…
“Greg, it’s me,” I said in as low a tone my voice would allow.
“Dude, what the hell are you doing? Got people going nuts here mate, no-one wants to tell me shit,” my colleague exclaimed.
“Look, I can’t get into it now bud, I’m in trouble. I was led to someone who could explain exactly what the fuck is going on in this city and now she’s dead for telling me. I need somewhere to hide and couldn’t think…” I paused for a second. “Think of anyone else to ask. This is serious mate, those fuckers, they killed her man; they killed her and now they’re after me,” I said now with more of an elevated tone.
“Alright alright, meet me at Corner and Baker Street. We can take it from there, just gimme some time to sneak out” he said as he hung up the phone.
I was going to take no chances; they could have got to him. Still with my gun in hand, I rose carefully and quietly to take note of my surroundings. The now raging downpour was an unpredictable torrent of noise which distorted all that I would normally be able to hear around me. I wouldn’t know if anyone was at either end of the alley but I had no time to wait for them to get here. I had to run… and so I did.
Corner and Baker Street, although pronounced as a street was in fact a public square around five blocks from where I was. Five blocks of risking being seen by whomever it was that was following me. Every corner was carefully taken as I’d been taught and only a silent, concealed foe along my route could ever have foiled my escape.
Making it four of the five blocks, I’d had a game plan in mind. Risk was not an option so to be sure I wasn’t going to be caught, I clambered up the nearest fire escape. Had I been on duty, I’d of given the tenants a bollocking for leaving it open to public access but right then, I reveled in their stupidity. This would be a well composed task; one where I aimed to make no alerting noises to ensure a hidden presence was kept.
I clambered up the fire escape with as much grace a burly officer could; making no mistakes on my way up, hoping no-one would spot me through their curtains. With a seemingly ever growing stair of ascension before me, I clambered higher and higher as my lungs ached for respite. On reaching the top I took one almighty gasp of air before crouching down on all fours to take note of the local area; this dark desolate place in Colden of which I’d either find refuge, or my undoing. No-one seemed to be present in any of the alleys I scouted from the rooftop.
‘A fleeing suspect will always have the upper hand when a chase ensues. It’s their choice where to go, which corner to take, what dangers to present, not yours. All it takes is a single corner for you to lose sight of your suspect and you’re reduced to relying on luck to find them again. The upper hand simply cannot be yours in a lonely pursuit.’ – Apprehension journal issue17, chapter 3. Author, George Marshall.
Even as my first performance as a suspect, given the distance I’d fled from them and with a more then ample fitness streak, they could surely, never have caught up.
The sound of a beaten engine drew closer and closer as I took the last minute I thought I’d have to take great note of the main entrance I’d be sure he’d come through. Two open windows above the road he’d enter from, a broken warehouse to the right and a set of low cut varyingly sized windows to the left. With residents below me, anyone trailing behind would surely not survey from here else risk causing more commotion then necessary. The warehouse would be too much of a gamble for them should there not be easy and quiet access to the elevated windows. My main concern would be the array of low brow sealed shops, the brothel chained off from the world and the shop windows, ‘Twin peaks’, ‘Get-up’ and ‘loose’ which faced directly into the square, all of which had already closed for the night. With possible second access routes into these buildings, I’d have to take a chance in meeting my partner.
And there he was, as sure as could be, entering from the exact road I’d thought he would. Alone. I could see no-one and nothing around him, nor hear any sort of noise other then the rippling splashes in puddles which now consumed both the entire roof and the square equally, and his bucket engine. I made a hasty decent down the fire escape and carefully dropped to the floor. I would have to conceal my weapon else risk him taking flight in the shit-mobile he called his car; no matter how long we’d been friends, a weapon drawn could make him call me in.
Approaching I couldn’t help but glance around, still uncertain of Greg, the colleague I’d chosen to trust. In the back of my mind there was also the glaring possibility that someone had managed to catch up in the time I’d spent scouting the area. I drew closer and closer before recognizing, it was indeed him. A sigh of relief having found refuge, no matter how obvious to him was well and truly required. I reached forward, opened the front passenger side door of his Winnediego and took a seat. I was however, all but calm.
“Drive,” I called suddenly as I drew my covered revolver from its own hideout.
“What the fuck dude, get that shit away from me,” he said as he glanced at my gun in disgust.
“Sorry mate, I can’t take any chances; things just got serious,” I said unable to contain my feeling of urgency.
“Alright, what’s this about? You better not screw this job up for me man. Eleven months is a fucking long time on the job and I aint gonna be best pleased if you get me sacked. What’s your damn problem?” He fired back up the engine and continued in the only possible route I could see, away from the station.
“I met someone today who told me exactly what’s going on in this city. I can’t trust anyone, they lied to us man, everything they told us was a fucking lie…” I began to shake as I relaxed my gun trying to gain composure.
“Look, get me to Jode Street; I’ll make my own way out from there. Can’t risk you knowing where I am else you’ll end up dead like she did.”
“No you fucking look. You’ve got about 5 seconds to explain why you’re pulling a fucking piece on me before this car heads straight into a ditch Kale.” He quickly accelerated staring hard and cold into the distance. 40, 45, 50 miles an hour.
“Neither of us need die today man, check your seatbelt. All the budget in the Goddamn city and they resort to this as my safety net” he said letting off a short, nervous giggle as he ended.
“What?! You told them I was meeting you? For the love of God man.” I exclaimed.
“Alright alright, I’ll put the gun away, just slow down and give me two minutes to explain, you owe me that at the very least.” I paused.
“Please.” Winnediegos are among the most hardened of automobiles in Colden but in a crash at 50 off the edge of any one of these archaic, decaying roads, I wouldn’t put money on either one of us walking away safely.
“Speak fast” he said as he slowed down almost unnoticeably to 45 miles an hour. I did as he asked.
“Alright, I’ve been working a case I’d been given a few days back on Muldrows say so but the whole thing hasn’t added up. I was told to go to Kegs Lane to stop some dickhead called Aiden who’s been murdering people our side of the Threapline for fuck knows how much time.”
“Stop? What do you mean stop?"
“Just listen man, he left evidence at one of his crime scenes recently. You should have seen her, the latest victim Greg, it’s all right here in this book.” I pulled the book I’d been given from my jacket.
“Beth was who I was there for and I…” I ended.
“Shit, Beth? Beth Tanners?” he asked taking his first glance into my eyes since I’d stepped into the car.
“What? You know about her? What the hell has been…”. I’d never seen him pull that face. Piercing fear. I’d given him enough information only to let him know something was wrong but I wouldn’t have time to explain any more.
At that moment, through my peripheral I saw a shadow strike faster then my mind could register what was going on. From the back of the car, with a cloth forced quickly and violently over my mouth, I writhed and struggled but realized what it was. My firing arm was held firmly towards my lap as I struggled to bring my gun up towards the assailant. As if drunk, my limbs slowly began to loose strength and composure. I’d only had enough time to witness Greg turn slowly and coldly away from me as this was all happening. My friend, one of only two people I’d ever knowingly enjoyed the company of in my lifetime and I was sat staring at him as he did nothing to prevent my unraveling. It was a pain which struck deeper then the thought of helplessness. Knowing that someone who knew me as closely as he did believed I’d done something so bad that I deserved such a fate. Knowing full well, if I’d just another minute to explain, I could show him why I’d been talking to her. Knowing that when I woke up, all evidence I’d been given could well be destroyed before I could present it to him.
Whether I’d live or die was something only distant, locked away in the back of my mind at this time; the drug had taken effect quickly and in just a handful of seconds, my eyes glazed over and there was nothing I could do to wake myself.
For anyone who's seen it before (don't think I've shown it on these forums), this is the latest version and the first one I've been happy with. Be critical and please point out any areas where I fall down, I swear my ideas of a good sentence differ to the norm so I'll be interested to find out what people say about it. Gonna be reformatted so the italics and spacing might be a bit off...
Prologue
I was running. The cold steel of my revolver pressed deeply between the aching side of my shin and the coarse black leather of my boot. The faster I ran, the further it loosened itself from the confines of my sock but I didn’t care. I continued to gain speed, attempting to escape from the gun blasts I’d witnessed just a brief moment ago. As typical of this bitter climate, the rainfall, a resentful cascade of icy shards falling from the sky was little to stop my feet from running away with me. Should I stop, I’d surely not be given the chance to live to regret it. As someone now a key to the urban truths, my secret was worth more then my life. I was no-one to decide whether I should stop or not. How dare I contemplate stopping, if just for a second to catch my breath whilst holding something so precious in the inner confines of my jacket. Proof of what I held in my mind.
She’d taken me here on purpose, a safe haven from those who’d wish to keep her quiet, a safe haven away from the normal bounds of the city. How could they have known we were meeting so far from home? Her life had been ended through her attempt to reveal the truth to me. The featurette of a goddess I’d so wanted to meet in different circumstances, now lying cold and empty of life on the floor of her underprivileged home, bathing in her own blood.
Glancing just for a moment behind me, I took note of the distant shadows of three men emerging from the undergrowth I’d ventured forth from, now facing my direction as I ducked into the closest thing to shelter I could find, an unwelcoming, deserted alleyway. I reached down for my firearm knowing full well these people would not be open to reason and unfastened it from my muddy boot strap. Concealing it would only slow me from the job in hand so I continued down the alley, gun at the ready attempting to evade the faceless executioners. The end of the alley led me to another road running seemingly parallel to the last. Fearful of continuing my sprint past a blind corner I pressed my back onto the cold corner of the wall, gaining composure, ready to turn.
In a full single motion of my body, I pivoted on my left foot around the corner, ready to take aim at any who had tried to cut me off. Only a brief flash of white light followed almost instantly by a crack of thunder overhead was there to greet me as I nervously shuddered in surprise. It didn’t matter; the street was clear so I continued forward down another alley directly in front of me. The lamps on each wall were no longer in any condition to illuminate this decrepit part of town but that had no bearing on my choice to venture down the second alley. Normally a cause of thinking twice, the darkness would become a tool in my escape, enabling me to seek a hidden refuge.
I knelt down with my back to the wall between a crapped out, rusty old ten by six trash bin to my left and several black bags of waste on my right; the stench of rotting food engulfing, making me lurch in disgust no matter how hard I pressed my hand to my mouth. The passage, lined with filth no matter where I glanced, housed evidence of things I cared not to think about. This squalor was no place to stay, but a perfect place to take cover temporarily if I just bore with it for a quick moment. A deepening puddle of water beneath where I’d chosen to hide slowly soaked through the rugged leather of the boots I’d chosen to wear in disguise of my normal uniform.
Now shaking in the unrelenting fall of even heavier rain, thinking of the flawless, now diminished body of the archangel, I reached into my right jacket pocket and revealed my now cracked phone. It was okay, even without a screen I’d know which number to dial. My trusted colleague, only second to myself in trust would be the one person who might be able to keep me safe. The phone was answered swiftly…
“Greg, it’s me,” I said in as low a tone my voice would allow.
“Dude, what the hell are you doing? Got people going nuts here mate, no-one wants to tell me shit,” my colleague exclaimed.
“Look, I can’t get into it now bud, I’m in trouble. I was led to someone who could explain exactly what the fuck is going on in this city and now she’s dead for telling me. I need somewhere to hide and couldn’t think…” I paused for a second. “Think of anyone else to ask. This is serious mate, those fuckers, they killed her man; they killed her and now they’re after me,” I said now with more of an elevated tone.
“Alright alright, meet me at Corner and Baker Street. We can take it from there, just gimme some time to sneak out” he said as he hung up the phone.
I was going to take no chances; they could have got to him. Still with my gun in hand, I rose carefully and quietly to take note of my surroundings. The now raging downpour was an unpredictable torrent of noise which distorted all that I would normally be able to hear around me. I wouldn’t know if anyone was at either end of the alley but I had no time to wait for them to get here. I had to run… and so I did.
Corner and Baker Street, although pronounced as a street was in fact a public square around five blocks from where I was. Five blocks of risking being seen by whomever it was that was following me. Every corner was carefully taken as I’d been taught and only a silent, concealed foe along my route could ever have foiled my escape.
Making it four of the five blocks, I’d had a game plan in mind. Risk was not an option so to be sure I wasn’t going to be caught, I clambered up the nearest fire escape. Had I been on duty, I’d of given the tenants a bollocking for leaving it open to public access but right then, I reveled in their stupidity. This would be a well composed task; one where I aimed to make no alerting noises to ensure a hidden presence was kept.
I clambered up the fire escape with as much grace a burly officer could; making no mistakes on my way up, hoping no-one would spot me through their curtains. With a seemingly ever growing stair of ascension before me, I clambered higher and higher as my lungs ached for respite. On reaching the top I took one almighty gasp of air before crouching down on all fours to take note of the local area; this dark desolate place in Colden of which I’d either find refuge, or my undoing. No-one seemed to be present in any of the alleys I scouted from the rooftop.
‘A fleeing suspect will always have the upper hand when a chase ensues. It’s their choice where to go, which corner to take, what dangers to present, not yours. All it takes is a single corner for you to lose sight of your suspect and you’re reduced to relying on luck to find them again. The upper hand simply cannot be yours in a lonely pursuit.’ – Apprehension journal issue17, chapter 3. Author, George Marshall.
Even as my first performance as a suspect, given the distance I’d fled from them and with a more then ample fitness streak, they could surely, never have caught up.
The sound of a beaten engine drew closer and closer as I took the last minute I thought I’d have to take great note of the main entrance I’d be sure he’d come through. Two open windows above the road he’d enter from, a broken warehouse to the right and a set of low cut varyingly sized windows to the left. With residents below me, anyone trailing behind would surely not survey from here else risk causing more commotion then necessary. The warehouse would be too much of a gamble for them should there not be easy and quiet access to the elevated windows. My main concern would be the array of low brow sealed shops, the brothel chained off from the world and the shop windows, ‘Twin peaks’, ‘Get-up’ and ‘loose’ which faced directly into the square, all of which had already closed for the night. With possible second access routes into these buildings, I’d have to take a chance in meeting my partner.
And there he was, as sure as could be, entering from the exact road I’d thought he would. Alone. I could see no-one and nothing around him, nor hear any sort of noise other then the rippling splashes in puddles which now consumed both the entire roof and the square equally, and his bucket engine. I made a hasty decent down the fire escape and carefully dropped to the floor. I would have to conceal my weapon else risk him taking flight in the shit-mobile he called his car; no matter how long we’d been friends, a weapon drawn could make him call me in.
Approaching I couldn’t help but glance around, still uncertain of Greg, the colleague I’d chosen to trust. In the back of my mind there was also the glaring possibility that someone had managed to catch up in the time I’d spent scouting the area. I drew closer and closer before recognizing, it was indeed him. A sigh of relief having found refuge, no matter how obvious to him was well and truly required. I reached forward, opened the front passenger side door of his Winnediego and took a seat. I was however, all but calm.
“Drive,” I called suddenly as I drew my covered revolver from its own hideout.
“What the fuck dude, get that shit away from me,” he said as he glanced at my gun in disgust.
“Sorry mate, I can’t take any chances; things just got serious,” I said unable to contain my feeling of urgency.
“Alright, what’s this about? You better not screw this job up for me man. Eleven months is a fucking long time on the job and I aint gonna be best pleased if you get me sacked. What’s your damn problem?” He fired back up the engine and continued in the only possible route I could see, away from the station.
“I met someone today who told me exactly what’s going on in this city. I can’t trust anyone, they lied to us man, everything they told us was a fucking lie…” I began to shake as I relaxed my gun trying to gain composure.
“Look, get me to Jode Street; I’ll make my own way out from there. Can’t risk you knowing where I am else you’ll end up dead like she did.”
“No you fucking look. You’ve got about 5 seconds to explain why you’re pulling a fucking piece on me before this car heads straight into a ditch Kale.” He quickly accelerated staring hard and cold into the distance. 40, 45, 50 miles an hour.
“Neither of us need die today man, check your seatbelt. All the budget in the Goddamn city and they resort to this as my safety net” he said letting off a short, nervous giggle as he ended.
“What?! You told them I was meeting you? For the love of God man.” I exclaimed.
“Alright alright, I’ll put the gun away, just slow down and give me two minutes to explain, you owe me that at the very least.” I paused.
“Please.” Winnediegos are among the most hardened of automobiles in Colden but in a crash at 50 off the edge of any one of these archaic, decaying roads, I wouldn’t put money on either one of us walking away safely.
“Speak fast” he said as he slowed down almost unnoticeably to 45 miles an hour. I did as he asked.
“Alright, I’ve been working a case I’d been given a few days back on Muldrows say so but the whole thing hasn’t added up. I was told to go to Kegs Lane to stop some dickhead called Aiden who’s been murdering people our side of the Threapline for fuck knows how much time.”
“Stop? What do you mean stop?"
“Just listen man, he left evidence at one of his crime scenes recently. You should have seen her, the latest victim Greg, it’s all right here in this book.” I pulled the book I’d been given from my jacket.
“Beth was who I was there for and I…” I ended.
“Shit, Beth? Beth Tanners?” he asked taking his first glance into my eyes since I’d stepped into the car.
“What? You know about her? What the hell has been…”. I’d never seen him pull that face. Piercing fear. I’d given him enough information only to let him know something was wrong but I wouldn’t have time to explain any more.
At that moment, through my peripheral I saw a shadow strike faster then my mind could register what was going on. From the back of the car, with a cloth forced quickly and violently over my mouth, I writhed and struggled but realized what it was. My firing arm was held firmly towards my lap as I struggled to bring my gun up towards the assailant. As if drunk, my limbs slowly began to loose strength and composure. I’d only had enough time to witness Greg turn slowly and coldly away from me as this was all happening. My friend, one of only two people I’d ever knowingly enjoyed the company of in my lifetime and I was sat staring at him as he did nothing to prevent my unraveling. It was a pain which struck deeper then the thought of helplessness. Knowing that someone who knew me as closely as he did believed I’d done something so bad that I deserved such a fate. Knowing full well, if I’d just another minute to explain, I could show him why I’d been talking to her. Knowing that when I woke up, all evidence I’d been given could well be destroyed before I could present it to him.
Whether I’d live or die was something only distant, locked away in the back of my mind at this time; the drug had taken effect quickly and in just a handful of seconds, my eyes glazed over and there was nothing I could do to wake myself.
