[Mokrie Dela]

It can be tricky at first but its quite simple.

firstly you need to have the table tags:

CODE

[tableb] [/tableb] [table] [/table]

Note that you can have a bordered table (tableb) or a non bordered table (table). Also every tag has an open one and and ending one, much like bold or italic tags ( [XXX][/XXX])

Then you need to have a table row tag.

CODE

[tableb] [tr] [/tr] [/tableb] [table] [tr] [/tr] [/table]

And a table divider tag.

CODE

[tableb] [tr][td] [/td][/tr] [/tableb] [table] [tr][td] [/td][/tr] [/table]

For every ROW, you need a [t r] tag. Then end it with [ /tr]. Inside each row you need a divider tag - [ td] [ /td]

So if you want a table that's three rows and three dividers (columns):

CODE

[tableb] [tr][td]Row 1, Div1.[/td][td]Row 1, Div2.[/td][td]Row 1, Div3.[/td][/tr] [tr][td]Row 2, Div1.[/td][td]Row 2, Div2.[/td][td]Row 2, Div3.[/td][/tr] [tr][td]Row 3, Div1.[/td][td]Row 3, Div2.[/td][td]Row 3, Div3.[/td][/tr] [/tableb] [table] [tr][td]Row 1, Div1.[/td][td]Row 1, Div2.[/td][td]Row 1, Div3.[/td][/tr] [tr][td]Row 2, Div1.[/td][td]Row 2, Div2.[/td][td]Row 2, Div3.[/td][/tr] [tr][td]Row 3, Div1.[/td][td]Row 3, Div2.[/td][td]Row 3, Div3.[/td][/tr] [/table]

The above will look like:

Row 1, Div1.	Row 1, Div2.	Row 1, Div3.
Row 2, Div1.	Row 2, Div2.	Row 2, Div3.
Row 3, Div1.	Row 3, Div2.	Row 3, Div3.

Row 1, Div1.	Row 1, Div2.	Row 1, Div3.
Row 2, Div1.	Row 2, Div2.	Row 2, Div3.
Row 3, Div1.	Row 3, Div2.	Row 3, Div3.

When creating tables i like having each "TR" on a new line, to help seperate them, but it doesnt matter.

Finally headers:

CODE

[tableb] [tr][th]HEADER 1[/th][td]Row 1, Div1.[/td][td]Row 1, Div2.[/td][td]Row 1, Div3.[/td][/tr] [tr][th]HEADER 2[/th][td]Row 2, Div1.[/td][td]Row 2, Div2.[/td][td]Row 2, Div3.[/td][/tr] [tr][th]HEADER 3[/th][td]Row 3, Div1.[/td][td]Row 3, Div2.[/td][td]Row 3, Div3.[/td][/tr] [/tableb] [table] [tr][th]HEADER 1[/th][td]Row 1, Div1.[/td][td]Row 1, Div2.[/td][td]Row 1, Div3.[/td][/tr] [tr][th]HEADER 2[/th][td]Row 2, Div1.[/td][td]Row 2, Div2.[/td][td]Row 2, Div3.[/td][/tr] [tr][th]HEADER 3[/th][td]Row 3, Div1.[/td][td]Row 3, Div2.[/td][td]Row 3, Div3.[/td][/tr] [/table]

HEADER 1	Row 1, Div1.	Row 1, Div2.	Row 1, Div3.
HEADER 2	Row 2, Div1.	Row 2, Div2.	Row 2, Div3.
HEADER 3	Row 3, Div1.	Row 3, Div2.	Row 3, Div3.

HEADER 1	Row 1, Div1.	Row 1, Div2.	Row 1, Div3.
HEADER 2	Row 2, Div1.	Row 2, Div2.	Row 2, Div3.
HEADER 3	Row 3, Div1.	Row 3, Div2.	Row 3, Div3.

the tags [ th] work in the same way as [ td] but offer different colour.

From then on it's like building lego. Row by row, with column dividers inside.

1	2	3	4
A	B	C	D
A	B	C	D
A	B	C	D

You could get creative if you want too:

1	2	3	4
A	B	C	D
A	B	C	D

Simple once you get the hang of it.

[Coat.]

Three- Roger That

Ant stared around the cockpit. He looked over his shoulder into the second cockpit were Ringo sat. His face focused onto the runway ahead of them. Ringo had to trust Ant, and vice-versa. They were both first to take off in the gliders. The first to do something is also the climax of the entire experience. Ringo’s hands tightened onto the joystick control.

Ringo muttered into his headset, “Flappers 1... Check, flappers 2... Check... Outburn...Check...”
“B-22 here; is the runway a clear to take off?” asked Ringo.

Ant gazed around the cockpit. Not understanding the controls and felt himself dumbfounded. All the gizmos in the world were placed into this control panel.

“B-22, that’s a negative,” the control tower responded.

“Learn the ABC. I never remembered learning the alphabet being this hard,” said Ant. Ringo rolled his eyes knowing that all the controls in his cockpit were for experienced pilots. He also paused at the fact that Ant hadn’t touched a single control yet.

“Grip the joystick, clear your mind and I’ll give instructions,”

Ant followed the orders. His hands began to quiver. Shake. His palms began to perspire. He leant back, using his entire mite to keep the grip. What if I fail to hold the controls until flight? Ants’ heart raced and jumped out of sync. His adrenal glands released a load of adrenaline into his system. He began to feel light headed. Ringo, sitting behind him couldn’t help, but noticed his students’ abnormal behaviour.

“Hang in there,” he said. Ringo felt worried for Ant. They hadn’t even taken off and he was stressing. Ringo breathed slowly to clear his mind. He shut his eyes for a while, before opening them and staring down the strips of the runway, past the city and out into the barren mountain range. Ringo lost interest in holding the joy, and unravelled his wrist watch so that they would be no distractions what-so-ever.

“B-22, you a clear for takeoff when you’re ready,” voiced through Ringo’s headset.

Ringo looked to his right, and gave the staff outside, a thumbs up. The ground staff hauled a hook towards the front of the glider and attached it. Ant wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he put his faith in Ringo.

“Alright kid. The GFS outside have just attached the hook which will be attached to a car,”

Anthony nodded, “Alright. I just want to get off ground as soon as we can,”

Ringo smiled, “All good things come with patience,” he added, “Okay. We will both pull the joy towards us as we take off. I’ll hold back first and on the count of three, you slowly pull back,”

The car roared and was heard even inside the glider. Ant decided to use the gloves that sat on top of the complex dashboard. He couldn’t help but be angry with Ross and Sandra for ruining his morning. He knew that Sandra was holding something back but hesitated to say it. He knew it. It was the tension. And the thing was, Ross seemed to know what she was thinking. Ant had a feeling that what she was saying about England was not the entire truth.

All these thoughts bubbled over and before he knew it, the car had passed them and began dragging them along the runway. Ringo peered over into Ants’ cockpit to see what he was doing. Ant began pulling back before order.

“Anthony, let go of the joy,” he yelled.

Ant couldn’t help but think about the lie that they were hiding from him. He felt like he was suffocating. The drowsiness was coming along again. He had never been in an aircraft, but was prone to motion sickness.

Ringo called again, “Let go of the joy Ant!”

Ant kept blacking out. His emotions were fuzzy; like moments after you’ve just awoken. He could hear echoing noises and his vision was awkward. He blanked out again and leaned dangerously towards the right. Still in most control of the glider. Ringo felt an enormous pull towards the far right lane were commercial planes land.

“B-22, what’s your situation?” asked the control tower.

Ringo didn’t have time to spare to reply. He didn’t think things could have got worse, but he only realised that the hook hadn’t detached and the control to detach it was in Ants’ cockpit.

“Damn,” Ringo heaved , “Wake up Ant!”

Ant blinked a few times and he was aware of what was happening. The glider was spinning uncontrollably around commercial airspace with a car attached with them. It was total mayhem. The car was airborne meters off the ground. Luckily, they were warned seconds before it was lifted off the ground. The car doors hung wide open, grinding up against the turf.

“Any second now Ant, and that door down there is going to snag against the ground and we’ll be pulled to our deaths,” warned Ringo. Ant almost blacked out for a fourth time but a loud beeping sound inside the cockpit kept him in a stable position. He stared all the way down at the dangling vehicle.

“Yes, I’m here Ringo. Give me the situation,” Ant responded wearily.

“Thank heavens. Listen carefully...” he was interrupted by a loud crush outside the glider. One of the car doors snapped off and was thrown meters down the airstrip. The jolt alerted Ant and his gloves got caught inside a crease, just below the dashboard.

Ringo, unaware of Ants disability gave him orders he couldn’t take, “We only have about a minute before we leave the airport space and glide over the neighbourhood,”

Anthony felt hopeless, useless. Their death was only a few mere minutes, perhaps seconds away.

Click here to read the next chapter - Roger That: Part II (Icebreaker).

This post has been edited by Coat. on Sunday, Dec 9 2012, 03:54

[Coat.]

Three- Roger That: Part II

“Land isn’t that long away,” mumbled a voice. They stood on the side ledge of a shipping boat, both knowing that freedom was miles away. It had been hard for them out at sea, for many months. Ant turned his back for one second to view ‘what seemed to him’ to be his God; the boat. It wasn’t much, hell, it was unlicensed but it had spirit. A few shipping containers sat in the centre of the ship while the captains lookout sat at the far back of the boat. He turned again to face the sea, to see the coastline that viewed distant mountain ranges and a docking yard. It didn’t look much like England, but it was his new home.
“Are we going to make it,” whimpered Ross.

***

He didn’t notice he had fainted again but the scary thing was that he lost track of realisation. Ants’ head lay back, facing out of the cockpits glass emergency exit capsule. Clouds above danced around, in formation and every few seconds of rotation, the suns glare would block this natural performance. If he was lucky, he would see Salt Lake City from a bird’s eye view. They say drowning is the most peaceful death of all, but Ant had to disagree. Floating and dropping… gliding, out of the atmosphere had to be the most soothing; that is, if you’ve lost consciousness. As for Ringo, his forehead was covered in a thick layer of sweat and his wrist watch was rattling aggressively on the dashboard. He knew that Ant wasn’t fully aware of the realism and seriousness of the situation. “Control tower, we have an unconscious student and his hands seem to disabling him to detach the pull car,” Ringo reported.

“Is that a positive on the situation B-22?” the tower responded.

“Positive,” he replied, leaning back and gripping the XGF-joy control. Ringo was becoming more and more light- headed as he pulled all these drastic G’s. At least, now he was in control of the glider but he knew there was no way of detaching the car. Back in Anthony’s cockpit, he began tugging at his gloves viscously. He slowly lost all energy as the blood from his brain was forced to his fingertips and toes and was on the verge of fainting again.


As for the rest of the students on the ground, they watched this glider carry a muscle car around the airports airspace helplessly. “This is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed,” the head leader muttered to himself. Most of the flight students began leaving in terror, and a plan needed to be made before the media arrived.

“Chrissy, get down to the admin a-s-a-p and call paramedics,” he ordered.

Ringo got the message from the tower about the paramedics. Not on my watch, he thought. Both of the trapped pilots could see that they were about to leave airport airspace any second. Ringo could barely keep his eyes open because of the extreme force. Glider wings aren’t made to be used under such forces like they experienced, and there was a huge change of these wings being torn off.
‘Come on John, think!’ Ringo thought to himself, ‘I’ve been in aviation for too long to go down like this. Think of a way to get out of here,’ then it snapped, not the metal cord attached from the glider to the car, but his memory recovered a piece of information.

He muted Ants’ headset and called the tower, “This is B-22, and this is my final request. Do gliders still have emergency detach peddle below the dashboard were the feet are placed?”

There was a short pause, “B-22, you are flying a CRUZ-HKT-202 model, yes, that emergency procedure is available,”
Ringo sighed in relief before un-muting his student, “Ant, listen to me, feel around below the dashboard with your feet now!” he ordered. Ringo looked over to see Ant fiddling around with his feet.

“Yeah, Ringo, I can feel some type of peddle?” Ant said.

“Hold that down, alright, just try to hold it down,”

It seemed as time stopped for a second and all their senses balanced back out. Ants’ head balanced back out and they were dramatically dropping vertically whilst banking. The chaos didn’t seem to stop. Ringo looked out his window to see the car detach and drop before sliding into the centre of the airport. Unexpectedly, Ringo’s joystick locked up, facing the far left. A voice from the dashboard called, “Banking, banking, banking,”. The gliding spun out of control, banking a hard left, descending vertically.

Ant reacted, pulling his joy in the opposite direction, balancing the glider.

“Sweet jesus,” Ringo muttered, putting his hands together as if he were praying, “This is B-22, we have full control and are landing now,”
Ringo pulled off his headgear and knocked on the glass of his cockpit, trying to get Ant’s attention. Ant turned around to see his mentor smiling with a thumbs up then a thumbs down, meaning landing. Ringo could finally relax and laugh, at the fact that they survived that, and also that Ant had the palest face and was positive that he blacked out again.

“What was that?” yelled the chief instructor. Anthony stood outside the CI room, waiting until Ringo was finished the insults and ranting that were thrown at him. He just felt awfully guilty, and he even felt worse when he saw Sandra’s car parked in the parking lot. She works as a post-woman, and that job isn’t the easiest. She was lucky to get it after some past criminal records.

“I can assure you, we weren’t in control of the glider,” Ringo yelled.

The CI sighed, “That just doesn’t cut it, John, it just doesn’t,” and he was correct, the laws the law. Nothings ever going to change. Some saw that rules are meant to be broken, and they try to break those laws, and they end up with dry hands, no shelter and a lack of self respect. You have no money, you have no nothing. There are laws in life, not just physical laws but many others. Expect Ringo and Ant just broke a physical law, and it wasn’t going to pass with ease.

“Look, I can’t do much.” Said the Chief Instructor, “Too many people saw what happened today.”
Ringo’s head dropped and he just shrugged, “I wasn’t in control.”

“You were the instructor at the time, and you were most defiantly in control.”

The CI continued, “We’ll be seeing you in Court in three weeks.” He handed Ringo a documented sheet and was ordered to leave the office with a drooping face. His face sort of reminded Ant of like a pug in a way. That thought soon changed when he gave Ant the news about the court facing. He knew that Ringo was heartbroken, knowing that any possible pilots licence he was able to obtain was impossible from now. From this stupid mistake, this stupid action. Well he suggested it, Ant thought as he tried to cover up the guiltiness.

“Kid, let’s leave before the word gets around.” He said shamefully.

They exited the office and were guarded down a staircase towards the runway. After all, it was an accident and Ant wasn’t in the mind condition at the time. Ringo picked up on that when the passed out.

“There was a reason I asked you if you had a bad morning.” Said Ringo who moved cautiously down the wet staircase.

Ant ignored Ringo. He was too worried to leave the airport without people pointing figures, and then the next obstacle was Sandra. More strangely, Ant had never had motion sickness like that before. He was on the sea for months, and motion sickness was rare. After thinking about it, it didn’t start with motion sickness, but a shortage of breath leading to hyperventilation. He was trying to think back before they got suited for the gliders but was distracted as a bunch of men in a hanger were cursing at them. One of them stood out from the group like a pencil in a crayon box. The man inhaled his cigarette lightly, and exhaled deeply. The smoke covered his face.

“Just ignore them and let’s just get you to the car shall we?” Ringo began to move faster and faster to the exit gate. Ant was still convinced that he had seen that man before; somewhere. He also was positive that the mystery man knew him as well. Anthony looked away, before slowly turning back to see if he was still in eye contact; and he was. It wasn’t much of a death stare, or any normal stare, but it was if as he was staring straight past him... into him. It were as if the rest of the men surrounding him faded out, and the spotlight was on him. They eagerly made it through the parking lot and made it to Sandra.

She smiled, “What trouble did youse fellas get in?”

Ringo asked, “Are you telling me you haven’t heard the news?”

Of course the media had heard the news and arrived as soon as they landed. They could have both denied it, but guilty they were. Ant looked inside the car, to see a guy sitting in the front passengers’ seat. Sandra kept her life personal; all Ant knew that she could have been working with the government. I mean after all, they were illegal immigrants. Even worse, he was an enemy to the Americans; including his brother Ross and the boy he had just met that day. The car horn abruptly honked...

“Come on, we have a party to get to.” The guy in the car called.

Then an idea came to mind. Ross had opened his big mouth and told Sandra valuable information about him and his family. Ross was like doe. You could mould him like doe and he’d give you what you wanted to know. After that fall he had back in the Cornwall schoolyard, and badly hitting his head, extracting information like that would be like bread and butter. The horn beeped again;
“C’mon, it’s five thirty, we should be there now.”

Ringo had wandered off and it was time to go. Time to leave the mayhem behind, but what he didn’t leave behind was the truth. That wasn’t motion sickness he had.

“What’s his problem?” the guy asked.

Sandra looked over her shoulder, and glimpsed at Ant. As if to say, what you did today was incredibly stupid and now the entire town know of your existence. He couldn’t help but over obses about everything.

“He looks like he’s hiding something?” the kid asked as he chewed a tooth pick.

Sandra looked at the guy as if to say, shut up. She had a face for everything, or perhaps we interpreted them in our own way. But it didn’t matter, Ant was hiding something, and so was she.

“Anthony, I’m going to have to drop you off.” She said.

“Don’t go to that trouble. Just drop me off at the party and I’ll walk home.”

The guy turned around, “Tony, is that your name?”

Ant nodded.

“You don’t wanna be at this party. It’s not for kids.”
Ant rolled, “I’m twenty.”

Sandra butted in, “It’s true.”

The guy turned back around without any signs of humiliation.

“He’s right though, it’s a big party. Violence, drugs...”

Ant interrupted, “Drugs?”

The guy joked, “Yeah, drugs, didn’t you learn them in school.”

Sandra knocked him in the arm and continued, “Yes, drugs. Like roofies.”

Ant had to think for a second. He hadn’t heard of it before, so he guessed it was new or was created in America. He then pondered on what effects it had but couldn’t come up with anything. Marijuana had the chilled effect, Speed was true to its name, and magic mushroom gave psychedelic effects.

“What are the effects?”

“It’s known as a date rape type of drug Ant.”

He didn’t reply as she didn’t answer his question.

The guy interrupted, “It basically removes your memory and totally wrecks your system.”

“Shut up Tyler, I was telling the story.” Sandra said as she turned into the street filled with people dancing and music playing. Ant could only comprehend one thought at a time, as he was slow by nature, and his mind was still set on Roofies and the effects it had. They were very similar to the effects Ant had that day.

This post has been edited by Coat. on Sunday, Dec 9 2012, 03:57

[Eminence]

I have mixed opinions on the narrative itself, because I both love and hate it. I love that it's got a slow pace, that it's building from character and rising to more excitement, but I hate that it isn't really laying in too many hooks. I want to be asking more questions! In something so slow, the more mysteries you can introduce to draw in our attention, the better... as long as it doesn't become confusing.

Right now, my favourite part of this is the backstory: what's happening with the war, and how did they end up getting to America? The snippet about the boat ride especially has me intrigued. So that's an example of how you're setting up these mysteries perfectly. I just think there needs to be a little more intrigue; something that really drives the story forward, even when it's slow-paced.

I did enjoy the scenario with the plane and the hanging car. Ramps up the adrenaline well and is a perfect moment to offset the earlier character building. It's good to have these set-pieces to help build the flow of the story.

The dialogue, as ever, is good. But the proofreading problems remain. Virtually every other line I'm spotting typos where the wrong word has been used (like saying viscously instead of viciously) - things that a spellchecker won't pick up on, because it's still a legitimate word. Little punctuation errors, other grammatical things. One or two here and there are fine, but they're popping up far too frequently, and it completely takes you out of the story. I really think you need to go over it with a fine toothcomb before considering it finished, because right now it all feels a little rough around the edges.

But that's easily fixed! Keep it up; I'm intrigued by much of the backstory, and that's the most important thing.

[Coat.]

I have to agree that I rarely proof-read my chapters. I usually try to go over them afterwards- long after they are posted. Only because I want to get the next chapter out to read before I loose interest in continuing it. As you spotted, I'm building the characters up slowly with intention. I find myself confussed sometimes when I'm watch a television series and for a few episodes, you have no clue on what's happening; everything happens way too quickly as well. That's why I'm climaxing the story.

I'm happy someone has spotted the backstory (I wasn't entirely sure if anyone was aware). I want the backstory to build as the characters become more vivid. I want the reader to be able to know a characters next move. That's the best part about writing it that way; the reader is thinking ahead on what's going to be the consequence. The backstory plays a massive role; so expect more and more snipets from Ant's memory. Ah, also, instead of focussing most of thinking and viewing on Anthony, you might have realised that Ringo now has his opinion in the dialogue.

Thanks for the feedback and expect more chapters soon!

[Coat.]

Sorry for the double post but I want to inform everyone that AceRay is now taking part in writing Pesant Blurs; next chapter will be up soon.

[Mokrie Dela]

QUOTE (Coat. @ Sunday, Aug 26 2012, 08:41)

Sorry for the double post but I want to inform everyone that AceRay is now taking part in writing Pesant Blurs; next chapter will be up soon.

Interesting
What exactly is his role? Is he helping you through the editin and proof reading stage or are you both co writing it? Not sure I've seen any cowritten work up here before


To add to what eminence said about raising questions, but nt being too confusing; I think a small amount of confusion may be good. I've read a few books where I've failed to see the connection between story threads (which is later revealed to me) and I've felt a little confused. Reading A Scanner Darkly for the first time, I said to myself 'wtf is going on??' but that confusion kept me reading for an explanation.

Perhaps confusion isn't the right word, perhaps it's too strong, and the technique is very tricy - lay too much and the reader will give up. But even with some confusion going on you new to make sure the readers got something they can follow - Tom clancy's books (the sum of all fears, debt of honour) are examples of this I think - multiple story thread that at first seem random but ultimately come together and make you go 'ah!'

[AceRay]

QUOTE (Mokrie Dela @ Sunday, Aug 26 2012, 22:39)

QUOTE (Coat. @ Sunday, Aug 26 2012, 08:41) Sorry for the double post but I want to inform everyone that AceRay is now taking part in writing Pesant Blurs; next chapter will be up soon. Interesting What exactly is his role? Is he helping you through the editin and proof reading stage or are you both co writing it? Not sure I've seen any cowritten work up here before

My boy Coat just PMed me and asked whether I wanted to write some. So, here I am. I just PMed him my latest chapter and I'll post it tomorrow if its okay. I guess its pretty good, although we'll see where it goes.

[AceRay]

Seven: The Overpass

Dark stars dotted the black, dead sky, clouds booming overhead, a subtle fog setting in the cold air. The graffiti-ridden overpass towered above those below it, encasing the shadow figures in its immense girth. There was silence, except for the occasional roar of a big rig overhead and slow crackle of the fires. The figures, hovering around the flames, would whisper subtle curses under their dry lips, light burning in their tired faces and long shaggy beards.

The hooded figure moved to the site, clutching a phone card in his coarse hands, kicking off the sea of plastic bags that littered the rough pavement. He looked up, the overpass just as intimidating as before. In his mind, he heard the crackle of old bones, and a short, loud scream in the distance, just over the horizon or around the dark corner. He took his hanky, ran it over his young face when suddenly the man jumped at the sudden beeping from his watch. Midnight. This was the time.

None of the shadowy figures took notice of the crunching footsteps behind them, instead concentrating on keeping warm in their shaggy, patched clothes. They could tell he wasn’t from around here, as their murmuring indicted. The hooded man looked over at the hobos and pitied their worthless lives, when without warning; a rig flew by above him, noise ringing through his ear. As he leant against a pole to support himself, his eyes lay upon the dark figure resting on the ground, a dark green army jacket covering his broad shoulders, a small mohawk on his head with fuzzy side burns down his sides and thick mouldy lips covering his green teeth.

Their eyes met, just for a second, until the figure on the ground averted his gaze back to the dirt in quiet reflection. He did not move an inch, just thought intensely about his own fate. Not a single motion of panic affected his pulse as the young man walked towards the dirt, threw the phone card on the ground and sat his sorry rear next to him. He knew that this was the guy who had contacted him earlier. They sat there in silence for an hour, just watching the hobos near the fire bustle about their mystic ways as silent ghosts hovered amongst the mist just beyond them. They both knew what they were here for. Finally, the young man removed his hood, revealing his short, black hair and pointy nose.

Slowly rotating his head to older man, he moved his lips in a dry, crusty manner, trying to form appropriate words. The other man wiped his face with his palm, roughing it with his thick stubble, trying to get a tear out. In the end he gave up and slumped back into place, waited anxiously for ten agonizing minutes. Who was this man and why was he here? Furthermore, how did he get that stuff? At last, the young man managed to stumble out a few words.

“I... heard you could help me,” at this, the man got tense at the sudden noise, slowly reaching for his pocket. The young man’s heart started booming as he cowered in fear at the long awaited bullet. But it never came. Instead, when he came to, he saw the man smoking a crummy joint, shaking dirt out of his hair.

“You Ant, I suppose,” spit flew from his mouth as he spoke, followed by a puff of smoke. Ant sheepishly nodded his head as the racing fear inside him subsided. “I guess you want to know how you got blazed, huh?” he let out another puff of smoke. “Name’s Georges, by the way,” Any maintained his silence, simply watching the older guy enjoy the light up. “Well son, I’ll tell ya. It couldn’t have been roofies, no, they don’t have the same effects really.”

“What do you mean?” Ant queried. Georges threw the joint on the ground and pulled an old bottle from the dirt, tossing it to Ant.

“Piss into this.”

“Why do…” Ant started until another vigorous big rig from above shook him off balance, Georges staying still just looking at the kid in a disapproving manner. Ant quietly left the others and tried as hard as he could to get some out behind a bush. Another ten minutes later, he returned like a shameful old mutt, clasping a yellow liquid in his hands.

“Now you see this?” Georges said as he inspected the glass vividly with his left finger. “Too many bubbles, tinted slightly brown and smells a bit funny, like a three day old kebab mixed with egg yolk. This can be only one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Karva,” and the ground shock as he spoke that forsaken word, a rig once again thundering down the motorway above and making Ant off balance again. Ant was stupefied. “Crazy drug from out east. Pretty rare, although I don’t touch the stuff. And believe me, I’ve done some crazy sh*t in my day,” Georges paused and looked out on the skyline of Salt Lake city for about five minutes until he tossed the piss bottle away into the bushes, turning back to Ant. “There’s a couple of guys who have it, out near Tooele, I suggest you go there if you want to know more,” he took a beer out from his jacket and started drinking. “I wouldn’t bother, unless you’re interested in getting your head blown off, they might not even have it anymore, last I saw of it was a couple of years ago,” Ant heard his words but it didn’t change what he felt. It didn’t change anything. He had his mind focused solely on revenge for whoever did this to him. Ant brushed himself off and stood up, turned to the old guy on the ground again.

“Will this be where I’ll find you again?” Georges nodded slowly, opening his mouth slowly, his blue eyes lazily glaring into empty space.

“Stay safe,” Georges words boomed through Ant’s head as he turned away, leaving almost as quickly as he got there, pushing through the hobos and slowly disappearing into the night.

[Mokrie Dela]

That first paragraph doesn't do it for me. I can't put my finger on it, but something feels off.

The rest of the work though, i like. Good job painting the scenes - the bit where he's holding the card and walking toward the overpass was good, i really felt like i was there so good job on that.

The change of style's apparant, and at first it was a bit of a shock (perhaps why i didn't like the first chapter) but over all good work - i could clearly see the world you described.

[Coat.]

Five- Bottomless Abyss


The flamed danced as the last speck of fire crumbled to ash; there was a sigh. The room was dimmed down to darkness, and no ray of light entered the room. It was as if the house spoke, as it creaked and cracked. A plump boy sat cross-legged in front of the burning ash; his face alighted with bliss. The fire was the reason he woke up every morning, it was his pride and joy; His toy. Although, he never got up this morning… he was awake from the night before; anxiously waiting for his brother to return with any good news. The clock kept on ticking and there was no sign of his brother returning anytime soon.

The door knocked, Ross thought too quickly. He barged his way past the furniture to get to the front door. He opened it to see Ant, soaking wet in his drenched jacket. Ant didn’t want to explain the long and complex story of what happened the night before. Since he wasn’t allowed on any busses, because he had no money, and Sandra wasn’t going to drive him into the interstate of the city to meet a junkie underneath an unstable and dark overpass, he had no other choice but to walk for miles. Ant squeezed the water from his jacket and took of his wet, yet smelly shoes. On the upside, the guy who gave him the contact card to George was legit.

“Where were you all last night Ant?” asked Ross. He began pouring orange juice into his glass. Ant ignored Ross and dropped himself onto the lounge.

“Look, it was a long night. That’s all I’m going to say,” said Ant. He knew if he told him, he would just randomly blabber it to Sandra and Ant would be completely restricted. What did float in his mind though, was the Karva. He needed to know more about it and its origin before playing around with it. Ant was sure Ross knew what Karva was, as he had extra knowledge of flora and fauna.

“...What’s Karva, exactly?”

Ross stoped pouring his drink stared blankly, trying to think. Ant began to feel intimidated, like he said something he shouldn’t have. There was a long pause, and the only sound that covered the silence was the wind howling down the chimney. The clock ticked over and over and it filled the hollow silence which made him shrink cruelly. Ross’ memory clicked, “Ah, that’s right. I remember reading something about it a few years back,” Ant exhaled slowly, knowing he was still all clear. Ross continued, “Karva is a plant that originated from Fiji and other South-East Island. Australia grows it, Canada and even some in North Canada if I remember correctly,” he finished pouring his juice, “But that’s all I know,”

“What are the effects of it?”

Ross had to think once again. He was never familiar with the effects of any type of plant that could be used as a drug. He wasn’t dumb but curious why Ant was asking. Nonetheless, he just by past that thought, “Not sure the effects but it couldn’t be any good,” he replied. Somewhere in the very back of Ross’ mind, was the bubbling question about why Anthony was all of a sudden, overly curious. Over on the lounge, sat Ant, hoping his brother wouldn’t find out about what was happening. He stared drowsily at the clock, looking at every second that passed and wondered where the time went. The wooden carved out clock with a sharp pointed tip ticked over and over and over. His fingers taped up against the side of the lounge at a fast rate. He felt like he wanted to explode in flames, and wondered if it was guilt. The guilt that was losing Ringo’s licence, sneaking out late at night and not admitting to Ross what his ‘revenge’ plans were.

Ant felt as if he was overheating, he was getting hot. He couldn't let Ross see that he was hiding something but every time he would lie, Ant's face would blow up like a ripe tomato. I can't fail, I can't give in, I can't let him know! Ant stood up and raced out of the room towards the front door. "It's not even that hot in here Ant!" Ross' voice echoed from the kitchen. He breathed slowly and smoothly and coughed violently. It was as if he was suffocating in there, and cracking under the immense guilt. He pulled himself together, and viewed his front lawn. Not much to look at really. Some dead, brown grass and dirt that flowed down onto damaged pathway. Their house sat up on a small slope and their driveway was barely used. At least they had something to look at from their crummy house. Across the road opposite their ancient house, was a recreational park with a large fountain and properly cut hedges. Even though they had bought the most rundown house in the entire district, it didn't matter about what people thought about their house and how they viewed it, but the view Ross and Ant observed while living in it.

A car screech came flaming around the corner of a street a block away with music pumping loudly; it caught his attention. The car appeared from behind the oak trees; a 1991 Jeep Wagoneer. He just didn't admire planes but all around, different types of transport which included cars as well. The car was admiral green, with wooden doors and back. Ant smirked as the song played out of the speakers was 'I Want to Break Free' by Queen. When the war started the year before in 1990, all music was banned in Great Britain and Queen was at its peak at the time of the war. Most of the media shut down just before Freddy Mercury was said to have fallen ill; there had been no recent news.

The Jeep pulled up to slide three meters and run into the garbage bins. The man in the car hand winded down the windscreen, to be Sandra's boyfriend, 'Tyler'. He turned the radio down and called out, "Aye, is San here by chance?". Ant decided to wander over to this lost chap. He guessed that he lost his girlfriend at the party the night before. "I lost Sandra at the party," Tyler said. Ant rolled his eyes.

"She's not here,"

He slammed down on his car horn and cursed. He turned his head back to Ant with his drooping eyes, "Have you been in contact with her in the past twenty four hours?" he asked, "Or even this morning or something" Ant held himself up with his arms resting on the car window. He stared back at Tyler, looking straight down into his tucked away soul. You can just shut someone straight off discussion just be looking at correct way. Tyler was waiting for a reply but the silence was filled with dry maladroit silence. It wasn't Anthony's duty to look after Sandra, and it was rude that he uninterrupted arrived without greeting. Ant looked into his deaden eyes, and he stared back with a clueless and middle minded gaze. He looked like plain and simply slovenly, with an old red truckers hat, a half shaved face and to top it all off, a foul breath. Ant couldn't call less about his needs, but he knew that San might of been in trouble but brushed it off.

"Did you leave her at the party by herself?" Anthony asked. He rolled his eye and slowly closed his eyes and licked is life; still half under the influence. He opened his eyes slowly and moved his head slightly with a straight face. Of course, Ant knew he left her there by herself while he pensively wandered off into the city, doing who knows what. He still couldn't believe he wanted Ant to continue the conversation some-how. Ant became totally oblivious from the tiredness with his mouth slightly open and eye focused on 'nothing'. He was reminiscing about the night before and the overpass. It wasn't a nice place, and wasn't a place anyone would want to be in at late hours. He still remembered the dryness of the air that rose from the road. Ant was like a zebra in a waterhole. He was incredibly illiterate in the streets.

"Ant... Anthony?" Tyler's voice boomed back to life, "I'm going to head over to where the party was. You mind coming?"

"Em, sure," he replied, still oblivious to the situation. How did Ant know Sandra was alright, and not stuck or hurt. He climbed into the Jeep and it soon vanished from site.

This post has been edited by Coat. on Sunday, Dec 9 2012, 03:58

[Coat.]

Six- Ain't no Grave

There is a light glow of red, and the sound of crackling. Black feathers... ash, floats around wildly. Sirens are heard from the distance, wailing, but white noise follows. The tarmac surrounding the area is melting to the flaming object. There is a picture in a frame which is burning quickly. Beside the frame, is a set of teeth... false teeth. Blood stains on the hot surface of the road...

---

He stared out into the dry fields; dirty fields... brown and never ending. They were heading out of town to find the missing and possibly hung-over, Sandra. The road kept on growing forward as Ant counted the telegraph poles. He had no clue in which direction they were heading but Anthony could see the frustration on Tyler’s face. She wasn't where he thought she was so, they decided to drive further.

“I’m doomed with these cassettes... they’re Sans,” Tyler said as he threw the 'Phil Collins' tape into the back seat.

Ant titled his head to the side with perspiration slowly running off. Dust that was catapulted from beneath the wheels hit his face, making his sweat muck and dirty; just like the fields, although there were once difference. The fields were spread far... dry but dirty, and his face was wet but dirty. The dirty and filth was not left from the equation, but put in. This filth was not just on the fields and on skin, but on society. You can wipe it, but it can never be removed.

“Just, uh....” Tyler gulped, “Just a few more miles,” it made Ants stomach drop. “We have been driving for hours now,” Ant yelled. The car slightly accelerated. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked Tyler. He winded down his windscreen, and poked his head outside the window. Staring straight down the never ending road.

“There ain’t no speed limits out here. No police, no laws... just you, the machine, and the road,”

Ant saw a small gas station up ahead, with a group of people gathered out the front. It seemed to be rendered into a house. Dressed in rags, but seemed to be drinking alcohol at early hours. He knew this was the place, “Stop,” said Ant. The car pulled to a jolted brake and a wave of dust tramped them as it lingered past them. Across the barren road, was a small gas station that seemed to be taken over by eager party goers. People out the front dazed around with unfitting music. The glass windows were smashed completely and rags of all sorts thrown everywhere.

Ant climbed out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut. He stared in the oppostite direction, out into the fields, which infested with yellow sunflower stalks. Not covering the entire terrain, but scatter here and there. Beyond that was an old barn house which the wood was stained from the rain, and the metal shards that had fell from it were rusted. He turned back to Tyler, “Go suss the place out,” he kicked his shoe in the dirt, “She’ll be in there,” Ant gave Tyler his hope to go venture the place.

Tyler walked across the lonesome road, only to be approached by two men. One stood largely built, with a cigar caped in his mouth. The other, shorter with a thin beard. "We rent our only house out to these kids, but they ruin the place," the smaller man said. He could hear Italian in their voices. He knew they were foolish foreigners but that wasn't on his mind at the time. The larger one removed the cigar from his mouth, "Are you the police or something," he said waving his hand around.

"No," replied Tyler.

The looks on both their faces changed dramatically. They began yelling at him in their language. Tyler worriedly dodged them and began staggering over to the group of dancers. Glassy eyed drunks, he thought. They could barley keep their eyes open, let alone gallop around the front lawn. The main part of the house was originally a gas station, but seemed to have an upstairs were a man was collapsed, laying his torso over the windows shelf. He was truly hoping she wasn't here, that his only half decent girlfriend was somewhere in this mish-mash of animals.

He shoved pasted another swarm of drinkers and leaned against the doorway, his eyes pined like a flying eagle. As he moved into the living room, the floor boards creaked from the pressure of his boots. Men, filthy, hunched over the table, sniffing. Tyler moved over slowly, recognizing one of them. The blonde wavy, dry hair and that distinctive tee shirt. The shirt was red, faded and torn. Disgusted, he stood behind the man and grabbed a handful of his hair; yanking it backwards away from the table.

"Who the..." the man yelled.

"What the f*ck, do you think you are doing here?" asked Tyler as he spun him around revealing the man in the red. White power surrounding his nostrils and glassy, red eyes. There was a long scar down the entire right side of his face. He looked a little stunned to Tyler's surprising, "Tell me why you are here," he shook him roughly. The other men surrounded around the table slowly lifted their heads, with anger on their face.

"Don't make me ask you again,"

Tyler was yanked by the collar from behind and thrown across the room, slamming into the wall and knocking pots off a shelf. Everything happened so quickly; crash and burn. The man Tyler was harassing stood up and brushed his noise. "Just sit down Byron," another addict around the table said. Byron licked his lips, "Don't Armanno," Byron said to the man who grabbed Tyler, "He's a friend,"


Ant stood leaning at the front of the car, facing out towards the mountains; the tops, covered in snow. He turned to his right to look down the parallel highway but his head turned to the sound of arguing. A circle group formed outside where the two scumbags tossed and turned. His eyes widened when, smack-bang in the middle of the restless crows, was Tyler, pulling one of them off the other. He raced across the road to see what all the commotion was about.

"You stupidi' you," the large Italian man yelled, punching the other in the back of the head. There was no remorse and he climbed onto the back of the man and dragged him to the ground. "What's going on?" asked Anthony. Tyler pushed his way through the crowd to reply, "Things got a little messy inside," and when they both turned, they witnessed Byron holding the man's hair as a grip to absolutely wreck his face. There was a lot of screaming and confusion but they both barged through the moshpit to see Byron still beating his face.

Tyler moved into the scene and pulled Byron back, lifting him off his feet and onto his backside. The body of the beat man laid unconscious, and spread out, on the sandy ground. Pure blood dripped from his nose and his mouth. Ant was sure he broke his jaw and nose in fear. "Get a hang of yourself," Tyler dragged Byron away from the crowd. People witnessed in shock while Tyler yelled out, "It was the damn drugs that did it," but his calls weren't heard over the loud cries of Armmano's younger brother.

"What did you do to him," his sentenced cried out as knelled down beside him, "Why did you do this," he asked, but no one seemed to be worrying about his brother, only their safety. Anthony rushed over to the distressed man and stared down at him, with the sunlight glaring behind his head, the man looked up with tears in his eyes... he sniffed and quickly looked down at his brother again, crying.

"We have done nothing wrong in our lives, ever," the Italian cried. Ant saw an object beside the man, and it shinned back in his face in the light, as if it was meant for him to see it. He picked it up and rattled it in front of the man's face, "So you said you've never done anything wrong in your life," he looked up again and his facials were total shock. He tried to grab them with his dry hands, but Anthony pulled away, "They aren't yours, they are my cousins," he got to his feet, "You thief," his raised his voice, "This man is a thief," Tyler noticed the noise and walked over with the battered Byron.

Tyler asked, "He's not a thief. We don't even know who you are. He's never came in contact with you before," but the man tried to pick his next sentence, "He stole my wife's car keys," he said. Ant couldn't believe the lies that split out of this man's mouth, "You said it was your cousins a second ago," he looked at Ant, "Shut up you thief," he said with tears running from his face. A child stood at the doorway of the house, looking at the body of Armmano, "Go away Alrando," the man yelled. The child began to scream at the lop of his lungs.

"Hand the keys here Anthony," demanded Tyler. He passed the key chain over to him, with Byron staring over his shoulder. His face slowly shrunk and his lip quivered, his fist tightened and Byron looked at the side of Tyers head in oar. A little tag was written on the key chain with the name, 'Sandra'. He crunched the keys in his hand. You could see his veins come to the surface of his skin. Byron knew he was going to snap any minute, so he grabbed his shoulder and slowly moved him backwards; Tyler still staring at the Italian.

"Let's go," Byron said, moving Tyler backwards towards the pot hole filled road. Anthony could see in Tyler's eyes that he was completely crestfallen. He looked back at the man crouching over to his brother, clutching his chest. It was sympathy and disdain all at once. A dark storm grew in the very distance, where the summits grew from the ground. Ant didn't know who to free and who to blame. He sipped and supped his saliva, the heat on his head, staring over at Tyler threatening.

"Andare all'inferno!," the short brother pulled a M1911 pistol from his red vest.

Anthony dove towards an old gas pump as fires were heard in his peripheral. He peered around the corner of the pump to see a lengthy man in a white singlet, firing at 44. magnum pistol into the back of the Italian. This man had death in his eyes, and he turned to see Anthony, tucked in a fetal position. The hands on his back stood up, as he dashed towards him. To his surprise, he grabbed Ant's collar and dragged him behind a 7th generation, white Cadillac Eldorado. There was a shutter in the far distance, and this man reloaded his pistol.

Byron yelled out, "Zil, what are you doing?"

Zil grabbed Anthony again and moved him towards the road. Byron and Tyler climbed into the Jeep and started the ignition. The sweat tripped from the end of Zil's nose, from his hair, down past his black tinted glasses and off his nose. He stopped in his tracks and stood into the suns direction, waiting for something. It was the noise of thunder, and they beheld a Eurocopter AS365 Dauphin police helicopter.

The microphone from the helicopter blared, "Put your hands where we can see them Zane!"

Ant's hair waved in the wind... sand in his eyes, and he looked in confusion at this, 'Zil'.

"Kid, here's a mobile and $100. Tell Tyler...." the microphone blared again.

He snatched the money and phone from his hand and didn't even dare to turn around again. The sound of whirling wind was muted by the muddled events that occurred only in the last hour. Ant slammed the car door firmly behind him, before Byron hit the acceleration and they powered off down the narrow highway. Tyler looked into the side, rearview mirror to see Zil climb into a car and drive off into the opostite direction; the police on his tale. Byron, driving, called out, "What did he say to you?"... Anthony looked puzzled, "I couldn't hear what he said," he replied.

"Who are you any way?" Ant asked, flicking his fridge out of the way.

Tyler turned around slowly, "Sorry about not introducing. It's just... you know. Ant, Byron... Byron, Ant. Happy?"

"No. What the hell just happened. Who was that. Why are the police involved with this?" yelled Ant. Byron, looking paranoid said, "That was an ol' buddy of ours. Worked the occasional job at the timber mill here and there. Story says, he's been running from the law for twenty years," he looked down at his watch, "If we get to Robs before he leaves his house, we can tell him the news," he picked up speed. The scenery began to change as they headed back into the city. It became dark and cold, grey and windy. Before they knew it, they were in Capitol Hill, speeding through residential areas. Passing vans, cars and pedestrians and the entire time, Tyler just sat there with his head down... not paying attention what do ever. Byron flicked on his indicator, and swayed right onto the Veterans Memorial Highway. They must of been travelling at least 120km/ph, and he almost missed the turnoff that passed underneath an overpass and into West Jordan.

"Our friend," Byron sniffed, "Uhh, he lives here. He needs to know about Zil," he made a right off Temple Drive, into Twin Oaks Drive. Ant glimpsed at the corner, which two drives connected. A dark figure, hooded in a pale white jacket, power walked as if he had something to hide. Everything slowed down to a stand still, as everything else blurred out, expect that silent figure... its's presence descended below the overpass.

The car pulled into a small courtyard, out the front of brick laid apartment. Tyler and his friend climbed out of the car, "You coming?" asked Byron. Ant nodded and followed alongside the two, trying to avoid the smoke from the cigar Byron lite. They went to the upstairs section, and pushed past a few junkies. Tyler looked to his left, over the garden and into the cities crammed skyline; Sandra was someone out there. Ant noticed something strange on the ground in front of him, a small blood stain. Not just the ordinary blood stain, but a shoe print. Normal people don't just go around walking through puddles of thick ick, but they had just passed a group of addicts, and the place did seem shabby, so he brushed that off.

"...This is the place," said Byron, throwing his cigar over the balcony. They stood at the doorway of room six.

Cobwebs hung above the doors archway and the windows blinds were all mouldy... tangled and yellow. No one seemed to be home, the lights were off and it was dead silent. Byron stepped forward and loudly knocked on the door, "Robbie, we got some news," he paused, "Let us in," he knocked again. Tyler looked over the balcony, to see Robs bronze Honda Civic Sedan.

Tyler nudged Byron, "His cars still here,"

All three looked down back at the junkies, who just blankly stared before slowly walking away. The looks on their faces were as if they had seen a ghost; faces, pale. Byron knocked louder this time, "It's Zane. He's back," they waited for the door knob to shuffle before unlocking, but the only shuffling was an old man passing, dressed in his evening gown, his slippers shuffling against the concrete.

"He might be too late. He's probably got a lift with a co-worker or something," Tyler pulled his jumpers hoddie over his head. There was the sound of dripping, water. Loose plumbing maybe. Ant looked up at the PVC pipe that ran along the guttering and into room six. There was a leak. A water droplet feel onto Tyler's hat, that stuck out of his hood. The old man walked passed again and stopped for a second, chuckled to himself and shook his head.

"What's so funny?" asked Byron.

The man replied, "You just missed your friend... he left," he looked at Ant, "And tell him to have a bath, he smells bad. Not to mention he had dirty shoes," he walked off back to his room. They just all stood there for a few more minutes, trying to figure out how to get into the room, but they had no hope. Anthony looked towards the cities skyline, but something was blocking the view... a billboard: "Come visit our neighbour, Tooele for only $45.99" it read. There was a voice that appeared in Ant's head, 'There’s a couple of guys who have it, out near Tooele, I suggest you go there if you want to know more,' he continued looking at the advertisement, 'I wouldn’t bother, unless you’re interested in getting your head blown off...' but he didn't care what he had to do to find it. All he knew was that some piece of filth was lurking the city, drugging people... innocent people...

BOOM. There was an abrupt explosion a few blocks away, and sirens followed, "Sh*t, what was that?" Tyler yelled. The trio began running back towards the Jeep, and Byron pulled the keys out of his pocket. Ant raced towards the getaway vehicle but tripped on the uneven pavement. He tried to get up, but he had twisted his ankle. The sirens were getting even louder. He was trying to climb to all paws, but collapsed again. Black, arid smoke seeped over the neighbourhood.

"Ant, get in the car now!" Tyler yelled, grabbing him from the ground, and throwing him into the car. Byron pushed the metal to the pedal and they were off. There was all yelling and confusion in the car. They had no idea what to think. Ant clipped his seat belt in firmly before looking down at his foot... he was missing a shoe. That was just a piece of evidence left, for the police to scoop up nicely. He was too afraid to tell the other two, and he kept quiet in the back.

"Just another meth lab..." said Byron, "It wouldn't be the best if we stuck around any way,"

Tyler removed his hat and placed it on his lap, before lighting up a cigarette... "Speaking about drugs..." Tyler started, "What, and why were you doing cocaine at that run down bed and breakfast?" but silence followed. Anthony wasn't concerned about their dramas, but his own. He put his hand in his pocket to feel the mobile and the cash that Zil had given them. He knew what he was going to use it for.

"Just drop me off at the next bus stop..." said Ant, "I need to get some groceries for Ross and I..."

The vehicle pulled up at the bus stop and Anthony limped out in pain. Tyler poked his head out the window, "Take the clothes to a laundry and dry cleaners. After what happened today, we don't want no police on our tale," he put his head back into the car and it drove off. The night was young, and he checked the bus timetable. Next ride to Tooele was in 30 minutes, so he sat down next to a man and his daughter. Anthony looked down at his foot again, hoping it didn't get into any trouble. The bus braked and the gas backfire was released.The bus lowered and the doors opened; he barged in front of the two people, paying the money and taking a seat for the hours ride to the drug district... Tooele.

This post has been edited by Coat. on Sunday, Dec 9 2012, 04:00

[Adler]

Good story so far. I felt that the beginning was a bit slow but the pace seems to be picking up, and this last chapter left me interested in what Anthony is planning to do next. I'll have to admit that Ant's head is full of bad ideas though e.g. talking to a junkie on an overpass to investigate about drugs and now heading into the drug district with money and a mobile from a man he's never met before that's on the run from the law (and who he clearly saw was being chased by a police helicopter). The end of this last chapter had me thinking he knew what he was doing since he was so confident in going to the drug district yet all the actions he's taken so far have me wondering what trouble he'll get himself into next time.

Dialogue is superb as previously mentioned, and feels very genuine. The details are vivid, and paints a clear picture in my head oftentimes. Also previously mentioned though, some proofreading couldn't hurt. Little things like "expect" in places where "except" should be used really detracts from the experience that you and AceRay paint so well with your imagery.

Also a gripe I have with the dialogue is that you place quotes from two or more people in the same paragraph, and that makes it very confusing and difficult to know who is currently speaking. Narrative writing convention would have each character speak in different paragraphs, allowing the reader to be able to easily discern the current speaker.

[Coat.]

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This post has been edited by Coat. on Saturday, Apr 13 2013, 09:49

[TenEightyOne]

QUOTE (Coat. @ Tuesday, Oct 23 2012, 04:47)

Peasant Blurs has been planned to be a fairly long story with quite a lot of chapters. Aceray has suggested that I'd take Peasant Blurs down off the forums to write independently and hopefully, in the future, to get it published as a small novel of some sort. ...

Pleased to hear that you're carrying on with this - I've really enjoyed it!

There's been some good feedback already that I can't really add to, I hope you take it all under consideration but continue to develop your work in your style... it's fun to read - you can't really do any better than that

[Coat.]

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This post has been edited by Coat. on Wednesday, Jan 2 2013, 08:37

[Coat.]

Chapter 10- L. Smith

The eeriness of the evening crept up onto his back. It grappled to his waist and heaved its way up the torso. Anthony placed the asthma puffer in his mouth and squeezed the nozzle. He inhaled the stale taste and shoved the puffer back into his coat. He hadn’t changed his clothes in few days, and the stench was noticeable. The suspension of the bus screeched and jolted up and down. His eyes laid still and flat on the dark horizon of what was to be his unavoidable future. He could barley keep his eyelids open.

“So where you heading, son?” a voice came from the very front of the bus.

Anthony held his ticket tightly in his hand, slowly breathing. The dim lights of Tooele glowed in the very distance. Far and faint, but it was distinct. He was positive and confident on what his outcomes where going to be. He pulled a black beanie over his scalp; pushing his hair back and gazing tiredly, “Tooele”. He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t worried on that fact that he was entering someone else’s ‘turf’. No, he didn’t either ponder on the thought. Anthony knew he was going to get what he wanted; whether the cartel cared or not. He pushed himself up from his seat and stood in the aisle of the bus. Light headed and gazing into the distance.

There is a tug on his jacket... he looks down. A young African American girl stands there, holding a straw doll. Her eyes where strangely large, like she was startled at the sight of Anthony, but her father called from the very back of the bus, “Eve, come here,” and she ran back to her father, to jump into his lap. Anthony turned around the scan the man, head to toe. He guessed he was in his mid thirties, and was from African American descent. Although, Ant was uneasy about this man; as he stared him down. His nostrils open and closed, like a bulls nose. In fact, he had a nose piercing just like a bulls; an ugly, chunky piece of metal pulling from one side of his nose to the other. Anthony turned back towards to front, and began walking to the door as they approached the bus station sitting underneath one lonesome street light.

The doors flapped open and the bus driver nodded, giving Anthony a tilt of good luck. His bare feet touched the grounds of this wasteland, as he folded his collars covering his shy face. The small county was about as bright as the bottom of a wishing well. Faint sounds of bass booms and loud talking curled in the air and around the neighborhood. The town wasn't as he expected, with a very nice vibe to the place. He looked far left then right before heading East and down the street. A street sign was placed up on the corner - he squinted to get a vision of it. Before he knew it, dark ghostly beings surrounded him. The darkness swallowed over him. His pulse slowly picked up. Eyes darting left to right. Fists clenching. The shuffling of footsteps moved closer into the boy, pushing him slightly.

Shlick, Ant looked down to see a switch blade. He was sitting in complete disgust. A hand reached out slowly and grabbed his wrist, but Anthony pushed away, slightly jabbing himself with the pointed blade. "How much do you have on you?" one of the voices spoke, "Nothing, I uh... got nothing," Ant lied. Anthony pushed the people away and took a long stride out of there. He broke into a cold sweat and made it about a few blocks down before stopping, taking break at a phone booth. He leaned up against the wall of the booth and felt the sweat dripple down his face before wiping the muck and dirt from his forehead; shaken from the experience. He took a breath and put his hands on his hips, panting like a dog. Anthony looks around and notices a thick phonebook; every page almost torn. He flicks through it and thinks for a little before flicking through it once more. The light in the phone booth is very dim; a light yellow.

He looked at his wrist watch, barley visible; 11:01PM. Midnight was almost ready to peak, but Ant wasn't ready to move just yet. He just looked around for something in the booth... something, anything. A sign, just a simple sign. It didn't have to be a noticeable one, but just a clear light to lead him in the direction he wanted to go. Then, suddenly he noticed letters engraved on the plastic material that surrounded the enclosed booth. He quickly rushed to put his hands in his pockets to snag out his mobile phone and shine the light onto the letters which turned out to be 'L.Smith'. He paused for a minute before flipping through the phone book again, searching for an L.Smith. Pages over pages, business over businesses but not what he was looking for. He read the name over and over in his head before something clicked. Something in the depths of his mind, like a seed sown in his consciousness sprouted and rose to the surface. He anxiously pulled off his wrist watched and squinted his eyes to look at the written engraved on the back.

---

"And now to the headlines," A neatly dressed news reported speaks, "A boat has been intervened by U.S military, stealing goods from a shipping container that was heading to Europe from China," the women continues, "This has stirred up the Chinese government officials and has been seen as a threat towards them. This has lead to the ongoing effect after the UN has spit after the United Kingdom had joined forces with the Chinese government as to be a communist nation,' the news reported continues speaking as men and women work behind the cameras in the control room. Two of these workers are discussing what had just been mentioned on the television, "I can't trust our military anymore," the older one says, plugging in cables. The other person scuffs, "After we split from the UK, things are looking up for the world," the conversation ends abrupt when breaking news rushes in.

---

Anthony stood on the corner of an avenue, looking over at a large warehouse. Probably empty. Word through the grapevine was that L.Smith was a watch-making company that shut down due to bankruptcy. He had a feeling that, that wasn't the reason for it's closure as gangs of people stood out of the sides of the large complex. He guessed there was about fifty people on the outside patrolling the joint. He looked down at the time again; 11:42. Almost midnight, and Anthony had a plan. Hit them when it's lights out. He thought his plan was bulletproof - a master piece. A vibration came from his left pocket, and then it stopped before he could get to the phone. A missed call from a private number. He shrugged it off and cuffed his hands, to blow into his hands to warm himself. The snow covered mountains in the distance gave Anthony a sense of his home; England. He began slowly walking towards the side fence of the warehouse - it was covered in a thick vine and he sat crouched in the overgrown field.

Voices quietly chattered in the very depth of the night. Ant slightly smiled in anticipation of shooting a piece of lead through that dry's pr*ck's skull. The phone vibrated again, playing a little tune over and over. The shadows that swayed on the dull brick walls of the warehouse moved slowly. Anthony anxiously tried to turn the phone off. No, it wasn't working. The sound of a guard dog barked in the very silence of this cold game of hide and seek. Anthony crept through the thick vine of the fence, hoping not to spook the fifty-odd henchmen surrounding the drug ring. A small stream lead beside the vine fence, leading him into a very muddy situation.

"Yo', what you talking bout man? They ain't no one out here,"

His stomach dropped for a moment, when hearing that voice only a few feet away. A flash torch light skimmed across the layer of the fence, like a spotlight. Anthony rolled into the stream and slid onto his back, hearing the thudding footsteps slowly quiet until a complete silence. The silence was almost unbearable. It was like the guards were plotting their plans - make no noise and let the intruder fall into his own trap. It was a good ten minutes before he began slowly rising from the small stream, trying to keep as quiet as possible. The lights on the outside of the warehouse shut off followed by a few vans leaving the yard and taking a right to the freeway that flowed into the cold desert of the night. Noises echoed inside the warehouse, meaning someone important was still there... waiting, working. The vine covered fence seemed to be never ending. Anthony slowly crawled along through the thick weeds and roots before feeling for the fence. As a child, he and his brother would break into the local junkyard and steal scrap metal to sell for profit. Every time they lurked the boundaries of the scrap yard, every time they wanted to sneak in they would use a simple trick. There is always a weak spot in a wired fence, which is usually just before the start and end of it where the pattern of the wiring is very thin and usually rusted - depending on the condition. Anthony brushed his fingertips lightly along the boundary, to feel the rust peel off onto his fingers; bingo!

"Lights on!"

A boom of a switch and the entire yard was lit up again like a Christmas tree. He felt his body become numb. His throat became dry. Tonight wasn't his night to die just yet. Ding-a-ling-a-ling, his phone called again. Anthony prayed that he would live through this nightmare. Ding-a-ling-a-ling, he answered the call. There was a moments silence, as if the caller knew Ant was in deep sh*t. Guards began patrolling the area again; searching high and low. A voice spoke into the phone quietly, "I know you want to be a hero and all, but don't risk it, leave," and the call suddenly ended. He held the phone to his head in shock, not knowing what do to. This could of been very well a set up. A guard dog barked and gun shots were fired. Anthony darted to the road as he heard the yelps and cry of a man. He didn't know if he was being watched... followed, but the only thing he was sure of, was that he had to leave - fast. He turned around to see a man, about seven foot tall covered in blood - from head to toe, screaming over and over, "Oh, mother marry, help me," in a foreign accent. Several other rounds were fired.

Anthony felt as if he was gliding along the pavement of the shady streets. Past dozens and dozens of houses, with all thoughts at the back of his mind and survival at the very front. His face; pale and his pulse running high. Every few seconds he passed underneath a streetlight and that was his drive. Stay in the light and everything will be alright. Follow the light, and everything will be alright. Don't turn around, don't turn. His feet pounded against pavement hard. To his left, was paddocks over acres and to his right was the seemingly innocent neighborhood. The place was dead; it was a ghost town. The streetlights vanished, until they were a distant glow in the wind. The cold air blew in his face.

Something made Anthony stop running, but he couldn't exactly help it. Thud, he clumsily tripped over his shoe laces before sliding into the gutter of the road. He just laid there, knowing he was okay and that he got away. It was just another obstacle. His face was smeared against the gravel - pebbles fell from his mouth. Anthony felt a sharp pain shoot up through his noise to his eyes. Blood slowly leaked from his nose. He pushed himself up and felt his grazed face; bleeding tremendously. He looked to his left and right, before crossing the road into a small lane. He dragged his feet behind him before cornering himself in the lane and unzipping his pants. Not only was what he experienced terrifying, it scared his bladder as well. The yellow liquid gushed onto the fence; a sigh of relief followed. He smiled to himself in pleasure. He was coming back to Tooele in the next weeks, and needed plot his next few plans on the chest board.


"Hey buddy, what makes you can so far from home?"

Anthony paused. This was it, he knew it was. He just gazed in front of him, knowing his time was up.

"Gimme' what you got now!" the harsh male voice screamed. A piece of metal was felt on the side of his head. The criminal was scared, and he knew it. The piece of metal; the barrel of the pistol shook. Anthony placed his hands in his pocket and pulled out the phone before dropping it in front of him and placing his hands on his head.

"Turn around now!"

A bag was placed over Anthony's head to hide the mans' identity. This was a cowardly act, he thought to himself. The barrel of the pistol was pointed into his stomach. The man knelt down to pick the phone up and slowly chuckle. His laugh slowly built more and more until he almost cried. This guy was a nut, "Is this all you got, seriously. A phone? That's all. Really kid, what are you doing out here? Go home..."


The noise of faint screams and noise scuffled. He seemed to be floating in a black void of nothing. The most gruesome of all sounds played as loud as anything into his eardrum. Old memories, feelings, emotions were brought to attention. His life literally flashed before his blinded eyes. A song played in his head, something he had heard before but couldn't remember. Pink Floyd or something. The beat of the song banged to the white light that slowly pulsated in front of his eyes. A bright, very bright tunnel came into view... so bright, so very bright and hollow. So hollow that the wind slowly howled through it. A piercing sound arose for what seemed to be forever, until it abruptly ended. The sounds of the hell screamed to him, cursing and taunting him. The sound of a murder of crows squawked - rar, rar, rar... over and over. And dead silence followed. Indeed it was dead.

[Mokrie Dela]

I'm seeing some tense problems. The first paragraph is in past tense - The eeriness of the evening crept up onto his back. It grappled. crept, grappled....

Then the next paragraph jumps to present: "There is a tug on his jacket... he looks down. A young African American girl stands there, holding a straw doll. Her eyes where strangely large" (Also you've written WHERE, instead of WERE!!)

This is a fundamental thing, and it says to me like you're unsure of your tense. Pick one and stick to it, unless you're doing flashbacks or something - not something i'm feeling here.

QUOTE

"And now to the headlines," A neatly...

I'm not 100% but i think the "A" shouldn't be capitalized here, as it's a "continuation" of the sentence. In a previous line you did not capitalize in this instance. I think, with the comma at the end of the speech, there shouldnt be a capital after unless it's a name.

QUOTE

His stomach dropped for a moment, when hearing that voice only a few feet away

i think perhaps upon would be better here, "when" does not make sense.

One last thing i thought - when the bag is placed on his head, you're telling us in a detached way. If you had a bag put over your head, it'd be quite traumatic i think, and i'm getting absolutely no reaction from Ant. Would he not panic? Be scared? Find it hard to breath? Also with the bag over your head it'd be harder to breath and that might make you pass out. I'm getting none of that.
Put yourself in your character's shoes. REALLY put yourself there. BECOME Ant, and tell me, what are you feeling in this situation?

A few spelling errors and very minor things, but overall it's not bad. I like the language used, theres some pleasing descriptions in here, so good work