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| Xeogaming Forums - Story Realm - The Thirteenth Gate |
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FX Zombie Marco         Since: 03-24-06 Since last post: 3832 days Last activity: 3727 days |
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| Book im working on with Sam North as my editor (see the documentary of him here http://board.xeogaming.net/thread.php?id=7789)
chapter 1 Hell found me. It came to me every night in my dreams. Every night since that fateful day two years and seven months ago. The day I closed the twelfth gate. Now the thirteenth gate is open. The final gate. It had all led to this. All the fighting. All the hiding. All the death. I lay on my back staring at the peeling off-white plaster ceiling. Two years and seven months I had been searching for the thirteenth gate. Two years and seven months and nothing. Zero. I could only hope that Dumont was having as much luck as me. Someone knocked on the hotel room door. I started, my mind zeroing in on the one obvious question: Who could it be? The options ran through my head like a mouse on a treadmill, that is to say going nowhere. No-one knew I was here, I had checked in late last night. "Mister Hanson? Are you there? It's me, Officer Bradley. I just want to have a few words with you. Mister Hanson?" He paused momentarily before kicking the door in, but by then I was long gone. As I rode out of the town on my Harley I cursed. How did that cop find me? The poor man didn't even know what was really going on. He was just a foolish man that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I parked my bike outside of a nondescript, shabby bar. I looked up. The flickering neon sign read: TH EIG T BA L. I walked in and ordered a screwdriver, my staple during these desperate times. I sat at the bar and let the orange juice and vodka sluice down my throat. As I put the glass down I heard soft footsteps approaching from behind me. He didn't know who I was. They never do. If he did, he would have been extremely careful. He must have been hired to kill me. Or, if either of us were lucky, it was just a normal mugging. It wasn't. He didn't know what I was capable of. He was about to find out. I heard the soft sound of metal being slowly drawn across fabric. Was it a gun or a knife? The answer was revealed as I heard the sound of a second piece of metal being pulled out, accompanied by the faint rattling of bullets. This man was obviously very inexperienced to load a gun right behind his target. I wondered how much he was getting payed for this job. Then I wondered how much he would pay to have never taken it. I waited for the right moment to strike. Click. That was it, As the man put the clip into his pistol I spun around in the barstool and swept his legs out from under him with my feet. The moment he hit the floor I jumped up and planted my knuckle into his throat. I turned around and reached for my glass just as it exploded. I flicked my eyes to my left, they were met by the concentrated stare of another assassin, a woman this time. She would be very striking, were it not for the pistol trained on my head. It was a small caliber weapon, a Smith&Wesson. The assassin steadied the gun and puled the trigger. The bullet slid into the chamber and the hammer hit the back of the bullet. The gunpowder ignited and sent the bullet out of the barrel, past my head and into the wall. This was not, as it may seem, a warning shot. The bullet that hit the wall was meant for my head. And the woman had very good aim. The problem was that as the bullet sailed through the air I stepped around it and stopped behind the woman. Before she realized where I had gone, I pulled the small hunting knife from her boot and pressed it against her throat. I looked across the bar at the man sitting at the far table. He slowly pulled a shotgun out from under the table. We stared at each other other. He pumped a shell into the gun. Chk-chk. I tightened my grip on the knife. A drop of the woman's blood hit the floor. Plink. I decided to break the silence. "Who do you work for?" A voice from behind me answered. "Why, he works for me young sir." It was a voice I had heard many times. A deep haunting voice. But this time it sounded more distant. "I see you've mastered your newly gained powers of remote viewing, Dumont." "Yes I have. And your powers of foresight have suited you well." "Yes they have." "Let's dispense with the formalities. I arranged this little meeting to tell you something. Would you like to know what?" "Not really, but I suppose that doesn't make a difference, now does it." He laughed, "Of course it does. Do you think that after all these years we've known each other, I wouldn't respect your opinion. What would the Master say to me if he found that I was being that rude." "I don't know. I'd ask him, but that's a little hard, considering you KILLED HIM." "Now, now. Don't let your emotions get out of control, that kind of thing can get you killed. You had just as much to do with killing the Master as I did. If I remember correctly you dealt the first blow." "And you dealt the last." Another laugh, "Yes that is true. What's this, are you getting angry? The last time I saw you express any emotion was in the 10th gate, when you attacked me out of pure rage. No, no. It was in the 10th gate when you let me escape, because you felt too merciful to kill me." "I won't make that mistake this time." I let out a scream as I pushed the woman forward, into the man with the shotgun. I quickly pulled out my pistol and shot through them both. I spun around, but the bar was empty. (Last edited by FX114 on 06-08-06 07:38 AM) |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie!  Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 936 days Last activity: 936 days |
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| This is what my critique looks like. I'm doing this one because I want to. From now on, if I'm ever asked to look at a story, you'll receive something like this:
Critique Title: The Thirteenth Gate Author: FX114 Critic: Zabuza Chapter 1 Despite the short sentences, very nice intro paragraph. Engages the average reader, and makes me want to keep reading. "I lay on my back staring at the peeling off-white plaster ceiling." Need a comma: "...peeling, off-white" "Two years and seven months I had been searching for the thirteenth gate." Awkward sentence structure. If you can't smoothly pull it off, don't attempt it. "Two years and seven months and nothing." Instead of "and nothing", try "with no results" or "of nothing" or something else. Too many "and"s here. Rewrite, sounds awkward: "I could only hope that Dumont was having as much luck as me." "I started, my mind zeroing in on the one obvious question: Who could it be?" You started what? "No-one" No hyphen. It's just two words, "No one". "Mister Hanson? Are you there? It's me, Officer Bradley. I just want to have a few words with you. Mister Hanson?" Odd, this sounds like something from my Soldier of Fortune. "As I rode out of the town on my Harley I cursed." You cursed the Harley, or you cursed while on the Harley? If the second one, you need a comma after "Harley". If the bar is nondescript, why would you include the sign? "He didn't know what I was capable of." Ending in "of". Tsk-tsk. Bars have fabric? "This man was obviously very inexperienced to load a gun right behind his target." I know what you're trying to say, but it needs to be rewritten. (You need a better editor.) "payed" It's "paid". Dictionaries help. Obviously you did the sweeping with your feet, it doesn't really need to be mentioned. "...planted my knuckle into his throat." Actually inside his throat, as in through the skin? On just on his throat? "I turned around and reached for my glass just as it exploded." Just as what exploded? The glass, his throat or your knuckle. Can't use "it" here, there are too many subjects for that word. "I flicked my eyes to my left..." You can't flick your eyes in that manner. Eyes don't flick. You're writing in past tense. Stay in it unless you're doing a flashforward or a flashback. "She would have been very striking..." "puled". Two L's. I understand if you were just writing this, and there would be some errors. I'm just citing them. "The problem was that as the bullet sailed through the air I stepped around it and stopped behind the woman." When? Last the reader checked, you were still kneeling over the guy crushing his throat. (To be honest, I want to stop reading now. Normally, I would. But since I'm forcing myself to do a critique, I have to continue reading. It started off fine, but now, I just can't continue anymore.) And you're switching back and forth between first-person writing and third-party omniscient. You can either do one or the other, you can't do both. Unless, again, you're going into flashback or flashforward mode. You're either staying in first-person (meaning you don't know everything that's going on, and you're telling it from the main character's point of view) or you're going third-person omniscient (where you write as if you're the all-knowing, ever-present observer). There was silence? When? Another problem. Several lines of dialogue with no mention as to whom is speaking what dialogue. You have to place at least one reference in, or the reader can get lost. Even if you use their name during the dialogue. There were two other minor characters introduced, so these five lines need reference. (I used to do it too, back in the day. And, I've had much more harsh critiques than this. Trust me, it helps if you take the advice.) I skipped all the dialogue because that was it for me. I await your rewrite, and then a next chapter. Nice effort, though. (Last edited by Zabuza on 06-08-06 09:57 AM) |
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FX Zombie Marco Since: 03-24-06 Since last post: 3832 days Last activity: 3727 days |
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""Mister Hanson? Are you there? It's me, Officer Bradley. I just want to have a few words with you. Mister Hanson?" Odd, this sounds like something from my Soldier of Fortune." -Never seen it "Bars have fabric? " -when did I say they did? ""...planted my knuckle into his throat." Actually inside his throat, as in through the skin? On just on his throat? " -You say 'I punched you in the stomach' not 'on the stomach' right? ""The problem was that as the bullet sailed through the air I stepped around it and stopped behind the woman." When? Last the reader checked, you were still kneeling over the guy crushing his throat." -No the last time you checked he was at the bar reaching for his glass "There was silence? When? " -its like a showdown, or stareoff w/e |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 936 days Last activity: 936 days |
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| Look, don't take it personal. This is constructive criticism and editing. This is why you can't have friends as editors, unless editing is their job.
You say 'I punched you in the stomach' not 'on the stomach' right? Yes, the applies to the stomach, but for the throat, it is on the throat, not in--in this case. You can dig your knuckle onto a throat. You can punch in the throat. It's an odd American English syntax thing. In British English, it doesn't matter. Either or works. American English is just stupid in construct. Otherwise, it is a good story, and you got me to read it. And, I don't just randomly read stories. |
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FX Zombie Marco Since: 03-24-06 Since last post: 3832 days Last activity: 3727 days |
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| chapter 2
I stormed out of The Eight Ball and put on my helmet. As I rode away, I slapped my right pocket, dialing the speed dial on my cell phone. I talked into the bluetooth headset in my helmet. "Earl. It's me. Have you found anything yet?" The voice on the other end responded, "Not yet, but there was another man who came to me looking for the same types of items." "Okay, Earl, listen to me. You have to get out of town. If he knows where you are, your life may be in danger." "Why, no one would kill over silly little artifacts like these. Museums aren't even interested in them. I'm having a hard time figuring out why you're so interested in them." "If I told you, it'd put you in even more danger. Just get out of town and hide." "O.K. But--" I hung up and quickly dialed another number. "Zaccaria? I have a job for you. There's an artifacts dealer that I need you to protect." "What? C'mon Sebastian, don't make me be a body guard, it's so boring." "I think he knows something, Dumont's already visited him." "And he survived?" "No, I don't think Dumont tried to kill him." "Well it's obvious, Dumont corrupted him." "No, then he never would have said anything about Dumont visiting him." "Fine I'll check it out. Where are you?" "I'm in Arizona, I think the artifact may be located in the desert--" I was cut off as the front tire of my motorcycle exploded. I was thrown into the air as it screeched to a halt. I flew thirty yards before landing on my right side. I stood and faced my attacker. He rode towards me on his bike. When he was next to the wreckage of my ride his slid to a stop. He pulled a large block-shaped pistol from a holster. I had seen a weapon like it somewhere. He pulled the trigger and the end of the pistol began to glow, then suddenly a beam of light shot forth from it. With all of my speed I dove out of the way, but I wasn't fast enough. The beam hit me in the shoulder searing through skin, muscle, and bone. I landed once more on the ground. The man jumped off the motorcycle, landing over me. He pulled the trigger again and the end began to glow. But this time i was prepared. I quickly brought my knees up to my chest and planted the steel shank of my riding boots on his chest. I extended my legs and sent the man flying through the air, landing on his feet far past his bike. I stood and quickly covered the distance. I climbed onto his bike and attempted to start it as he charged towards me. I glanced over at my attacker, and saw that his helmet had fallen off, revealing several wires originating from his temple, trailing beneath his shirt. I suspected that if I tore off the leather garment I would see a blue sensuit. This confirmed my suspicions about my attacker. This also explained why I couldn't start the motorcycle. I opened my fist and took the recently severed thumb. I looked near the ignition and placed it there. The bike roared to life. I rode away just as he reached me. He pulled out a revolver and fired three shots at me, but I was already gone. |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 936 days Last activity: 936 days |
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| It's far too meticulous. It's nice that you feel the need to explain every single detail to the reader, but it's not needed. It get boring to read if you're doing that. I trashed an entire story once just because I was doing that. Of course you're taking through some kind of bluetooth or other handsfree device.
Oh, and just for reader clarity on the board, put spaces between your paragraphs. It helps for reading...especially if you want people to read your (shit) stuff. Now, I know you're doing dialogue between two people, but again...open ended dialogue without reference as to whom is speaking. I mean, you can fill in with actions along the way. It doesn't always have to be "he said" and "she said". It could be something like, "he said while amping the throttle on the bike." Dialogue can also be an opening for description. You could describe the entire bike ride in between dialogue lines. Oh, dark lord, I really tried to finish reading this chapter, but it was far too painful to read. Nice try, though. |
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FX Zombie Marco Since: 03-24-06 Since last post: 3832 days Last activity: 3727 days |
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| I put in the double spacing the first chapter, forgot on the second, and if u didnt finish then u missed the climax, but ya, that chapter is kind of a lul, meant more for introducing the 3 new characters
"O.K. But--" There was a click on the other end of the phone. Earl Adams slowly hung up the phone and turned to the man who had broken into his office minutes before. "Th-th-there, I d-did what you want. N-now let me go." The man in the white suit chuckled, "Do you hear that Merrick," he said to the seven and a half foot tall hooded black man standing beside him, "he wants us to let him go. What do you think we should do?" "I think we should feed him to the hounds." the man replied in a deep, booming voice. He laughed again, "That sounds like a fantastic idea." He began to slowly approach Earl. "The hounds would love some fresh meat." He raised his right hand and began removing the black leather glove, revealing charred flesh "But considering our lack of hounds.." His ungloved hand quickly shot out and latched itself on Earl's forehead. A purple glow began to shroud the burnt appendage. Earl gasped for breath and spasmed and slumped onto the floor. Dumont walked behind his desk and began opening drawers. The first contained pencils, erasers, and other various office supplies. The second was filled with a hefty stack of pornographic magazines. The third, however was locked. Dumont pulled a key from the corpse's pocked and used it to unlock the drawer. Inside was a golden semicircle on a silver chain. He held it up, letting the light streaming in from the window glint off the strange engravings. After a few seconds he put it in the inside pocked of his jacket and began to leave the room. "Merrick," he said as he replaced his glove, "burn it down." The man nodded, and with a wave of his hand set the drapes aflame, before following his master. (Last edited by FX114 on 06-11-06 02:47 AM) |
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FX Zombie Marco Since: 03-24-06 Since last post: 3832 days Last activity: 3727 days |
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| Chapter 4
Several miles later, I abandoned the stolen vehicle. If the man was, as I suspected, from the 12th realm, then he could definitely track his own bike. As I walked down the desert road I wondered, How could someone have gotten out of their realm onto Earth? Then again, Zaccaria had done it. But she had been following Dumont. Could the cyborg be working for Dumont? Most likely, but what could Dumont offer him? The man didn't need money, he could just market the technology from his world, or even rob banks without being caught. Power? Same thing. He must be working for Dumont. But, Dumont doesn't want me dead. That makes it that much harder for him to find the key. Plus he wants to be able to gloat when he opens the 13th gate. IF he opens the 13th gate. My musings were cut off with a pneumatic hiss as a semi pulled over next to me. The passenger door clicked open and a large man wearing a ketchup stained shirt, reading God Bless America, and a mesh hat labeled Git-Er-Done, leaned out. "Y'all nead a rayd?" he managed to say, using his rudimentary knowledge of the english language. I nodded and climbed into the cab. As we began to drive he tried to start a conversation, "So, were's you headin'?" "Wherever." I said nonchalantly as I propped my feet up and closed my eyes, pretending to try to go to sleep. The trucker opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then decided against it. We traveled for several minutes in silence, when the trucker flipped on the radio. A staticy country song began playing. As we travelled peacefully, I wondered if perhaps, just this once, everything would go right. I was wrong. The music was cut off and replaced with a much clearer voice. This is a police announcement. Please keep watch for a man reported 5' 11", with short black hair, wearing a brown leather jacket, black jeans, and black boots. Suspect is possibly traveling by motorcycle. Suspect is wanted for multiple homicide and armed robbery. Suspect is armed and dangerous. Do not attempt to apprehend him yourself. If you think you have seen this man dial 911 immediately. I repeat, suspect is armed and dangerous. The trucker turned the radio down as the announcement repeated. "Huh, I saw an abandoned bike a ways ba--" He stopped, noticing the brown jacket I was using as a pillow, and the boots I had propped up on his dashboard. I dumped the body out the door and drove off. As I shifted the truck into a higher gear, I cursed yet again. I had always been pursued by the police, but they had always been working for Dumont. Except that one cop who got me at the motel, Officer Bradley. He had been following me almost religiously. Of course, he wasn't a cop anymore. He had been temporarily suspended after making what was regarded as 'insane claims'. It was just after Dumont had closed the tenth gate, and he saw me walking out of the burning building it was kept in. He had followed me to the eleventh gate. He had tried reporting what he saw, but Dumont had kept him quiet for some time. Now, he had taken his quest of catching me to near obsession. The road began to curve gently to the right. As I turned the massive truck's steering wheel, I felt a twinge of pain in my left shoulder. I had completely forgotten about the wound from the 12th realmer's laser. The cut was so clean that in all the commotion of my escape, I had barely noticed it. I glanced away from the road and wrapped my right hand around my injured shoulder. It began to emit a white glow, and a moment later the wound was gone, although there was still a very prominent hole in my leather jacket. I put my hands back on the wheel and my eyes back on the road. Was there a shape on the horizon? Even with my enhanced vision, I couldn't tell with the setting sun in my eyes. All I could see was a slight silhouette, and then a moment later, a pinpoint of light. My eyes widened as I realized what I was seeing. I opened the door and dove out of the moving truck just as the laser seared through the windshield, and continued through the back of the truck. (Last edited by Seamus Finnan on 02-13-07 06:19 AM) |
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FX Zombie Marco Since: 03-24-06 Since last post: 3832 days Last activity: 3727 days |
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| Chapter 5
I rolled as the truck skidded towards my assailant. He continued forward as the side of the tanker impacted him, splitting in two, without even faltering his stride. Without hesitation, I drew my pistol and fired three shots in quick succession, while I still had the advantage of distance. My aim seemed perfect, but at the last moment, the bullets seemed to stray in their path, whizzing past my target. I never missed. It was obvious, of course. I kept forgetting where this man was from. His suit was emitting a small magnetic field, causing my bullets to be gently pushed away from him. I fired at the ground next to him, and the puddle of gas ignited, engulfing him in flames. Before I could even consider celebrating my victory, a silhouette appeared at the edge of the inferno. He raised his weapon, and I immediately dove out of the way of it's beam. I came back up next to a street sign announcing the upcoming turn. I wrapped my hands around the pole and yanked it out of the concrete and focused on the cyborg. As I wondered how much he knew about me, everything around me began to stretch, and as it snapped back I was standing in front of the cyborg. I instantly swung at his head, but my weapon encountered his forearm. He grabbed the pole and rotated it twice, wrapping it around his forearm. I looked into is emotionless eyes, trying to discern... something, anything, when his fist collided with my chest. I flew back a few feet and skidded on by back a bit before stopping. He made his final approach towards me as he aimed his gun at me. He took his time to aim the shot precisely at my head, not the least bit curious as to why I didn't attempt to avoid him, as a shadow appeared below him. He looked up just as the nose of the truck came crashing into him. The truck teetered, threatening to fall over, but it stayed put. I heard a laugh as a girl stepped around from behind the upturned truck. She had was just over five and a half feet, with very dark skin and hair. She wore a pink tube top and a miniskirt. ?Thought you could use some help.? |
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