I love how that passage is written, the usage of some of the words to be exact . I'm not an expert on grammar though, so I can't confirm where you messed up according to what WatchJessieGo said.
Although it took a lot longer than I expected due to other activities that I wanted to take care of, I have finally finished writing the (very) short story I was working on.
Originally I didn't intend to make the story public and was going to write a new one instead, but then I decided to go with it in the end when a cousin of mine suggested that I share it online. It is somewhat of a prologue to my current visual novel, and consists of roughly 2643 words (Most of them being dialogue) according to Word Count Tool. It was in the rough draft stages earlier when I first posted it elsewhere, but I've revised it somewhat since then so it is now like v1.2 or something. There was only one person reading it and providing critique on it, so there might be several mistakes and errors that I didn't catch. Well here it is.
The Song of Owls - A short story prologue to an upcoming work
http://hishohakurei.deviantart.com/art/ ... -307975849
There is a part 2-4 if anyones interested in those as well. I think part 1 was the best though.
i might put in a bit more description of the environment because i was simply inserting the default cliche, but i found your use and description of the action able to off balance it enough for it to be enjoyable, though not enough for me to be desperate to read whats happening next.
i said i was going to write something to be a debut peice but i forgot i was in the middle of the exam season so i am just going to put up a short story i wrote at the beggining of this semester and finish writing my debute piece later, hope you enjoy and i am always apreciative of any CnC (Comments and Critique) i get.
What I write here, will never see the light of day. Either because of the informal and improper manner that I write this report, or by the resources of the party that brought about the end of Ambassador John Smith. At this time I record under extreme duress, for I fear that I too, will meet the mastermind behind this plan. If someone does find this, keep moving, keep low and in the dark, but never keep silent. Let all those who still live under the new night sky of neon stars hear the call of the fallen and the lost, and show them the weaver of our fates. I will start at the beginning, it will take longer but it will show how powerful the enemy is, and leave you with a glimmer of what I saw.
His name was John Smith. He had always been a respectable man. He wore his Ambassadorship like he wore his clothes. Practical black, creaseless, and all to Government standards. He was one of several Ambassadors for the UHC (United Human Countries) on the space station Alexandria. The only object that he wore that broke the crisp blackness of his one piece government issue suit, was the single badge he wore on his left breast. A golden rimmed resemblance of the UHC insignia. A circle cut into six spiral segments. The three grey pieces separating the Red, Green and Yellow ones. Again, like everything else, this was simply a necessity of his position, and I doubt he would even have worn it on special occasions, if he wasn’t forced to. One may attribute his attire to his lineage. He was a purebred human from hispanic descent, with a skin that is similar in color to the bronze skin of the Hellions and black neck length hair, like the Equine, though his personality was anything but snooty. Especially if you compared him to others of his rank. You might thought him a lesser man. While the question of his humanity might still be up to debate, no other ambassador had such a respected reputation as he did. I will not say that he was unskilled in his occupation as a representative of humanity, though he did not rise to his rank through any uncanny skill or supply of resources. He eventually reached his position of power through his loyalty to the UHC and from his simple doggedness, that is seen in few people. Some might have called him a workaholic back then, before the ‘Handler’ walked into his life. But he simply didn’t have anything else to do. So he did what he was told to do, and he did it without fail.
I became John’s attache about a year ago, back then I realized that it was just another stepping stone in the hierarchy, and I would learn nothing from John, and John would need nothing of me. We didn’t socialize, we hardly talked, and he rarely gave me any tasks to do. The ones he did give me, were more to give a reason for my presence rather than to actually be of any assistance. Even though all of this separated us, I felt that I grew to know John and what he was like. One day, he entered his sparse office with what one could only describe as a spring in his step. I was stunned when he asked me how I had slept. completely uncharacteristic from this man, of regime and order. all I could mumble out was a ‘so, so’ and stared at him credulously for a minute or two as he sat down in his chair and spun it to look out of his window. If he thought like normal humans did, I might have said that he was suddenly caught by the beauty out his window. A thick blanket of different shades of green carpeted the floor nearly twenty stories below us, with small patches of crystal blue water and white marble squares that broke free of the canopy here and their to kiss the artificial sunlight, next to the imposing spires of sparkling gold, silver, purple obsidian, copper and bronze that rose up nearly thirty stories tall to meet in the centre of the cylindrical space station. The only thing which broke the serenity of the scene would be an occasional helicopter taxi, but in the distance they simply added another color to the serene spectrum laid before us, but never before did he ever care about the beauty out of his window, even though it almost took the entire part of his side of the office. On one occasion, he even pointed out the foolishness of aesthetic beauty on the first day I walked in and gawked at the view he found distractive. But on that day, as I have stated before, he simply looked out.
Normally he would have instantly connected himself to the Central Grid and begin his work. It would have been hard for me at that point not to have taken notice that something was off. I use this word because wrong, while it has the same intensity as the word I search for it, implies something ill and nothing ill was at play, as far as I could tell back then. He maintained this cheery mood for several weeks, and eventually I decided to try and get to the bottom of this sudden change of character. Even though I had never seen him talk so much, it was still comparatively little to what one might consider a normal human to do, so I had to turn my eye to investigating John’s personal computer terminal.
I have no skills in hacking, and I had no idea what protection applications would be put in place to protect his terminal. So at first I looked through public records, and clearance level one information. However, instead of finding answers, I only found more questions. In John’s past, he was a very predictable Ambassador and always used his votes to push for practical solutions towards the UHC control, but in the more recent council meetings, he started to vote towards unorthodox solutions. At first it was minimal, but he started constantly voting towards unusual outcomes, and in some cases they even went against UHC Policy. In one case he helped the Orion Trade Guilds vote through new corporate legislation that would leave the Trade Guilds a near monopoly in exporting metal from certain frontier planets. In another case he helped Ares Corp, against the Trade Guilds to, maintain rights to develop and sell advance weapons. The only reason I can attribute to the fact that he wasn’t replaced, was the amount of time it takes for information and personal to travel across from Earth to Alexandria and back. Suddenly, John started going to council meetings he wasn’t invited to, as a onsite observer. He had never done anything beyond the call of duty before, and the councils he was choosing to attend were far out of his area of power and knowledge. So after scouring through all the data I could find, I came to two conclusions:
John’s attendance was always linked to mega corporations. From new economic legislation, to private transgressions on a inter-political scale. Though these mega corporations never seemed to have any connections. So at first I believed that he was all of a sudden taking bribes on the side, but I still do not believe that John is that sort of man. Besides, what would he be able to buy with that extra cash that made him so happy. I know that the U.H.C. Ambassadorial pay isn’t anything to brag about, but there aren’t many things he couldn’t have bought prior to taking kickbacks.
The other thing I found in my search was a new lady friend of his. A pretty Helion by the name of Wilma. She had a classic Helion build, standing about four feet eight inches tall, with a skin of polished bronze, and a patchy head of long white hair. I might have noticed earlier, if I could have imagined him ever considering human company as a luxury. While this revelation left me with several philosophical questions about John, it did leave a more important question. While Wilma did explain Johns sudden change of personality, it didn’t explain why he was all of a sudden interested in the various council sessions on mega corporations. Wilma was neither a worker or manager of anything related to a mega corps, she told me she was a musical entertainer in several individual and corp operated bars around Alexandria. Even her credit account was clean of corporate influence.
At that point I was going to leave it, but a twist of fate decided otherwise. I was just about to set out for lunch one day when I heard John arguing with someone outside, but upon my exit into the corridor only John stood there. One might suppose he was using his PEP(Personal Eye Piece) to argue with whoever he was talking to. And my interest grew because, while he was arguing in a open area, as soon as he saw me exit the office he started harshly whispering into his PEPs mouth piece, and as I turned the corridor to get to the cafeteria, I saw him creeping into the office still arguing into his PEP. It only gets stranger, for when I looked through his call records, neither he nor anyone else had called or used his PEP. And that is when things turned for the worst.
I was growing accustomed to his bright mood, but it quickly became contrasted by short bursts of anger. I always saw the end of these, so I can’t say with any certainty where his anger came from. But with hindsight, I would say he was feeling the effects of a bad deal with someone he refereed to as, ‘Handler’. The deal must have been as sinister and as subtle as one with the devil himself, for just in two weeks, John had wrecked his career throughly, dumped Wilma and had three mental breakdowns. When he was finally taken away after his third breakdown, he looked like a salivating mad man, his once pristine suit dirty, frayed and ripped. His eyes, which just before had been so calm, were looking in all directions as his blood stained body thrashed to break free from his bonds. As he was rolled past me on the gurney he was strapped to, he broke a single hand free and brought my head inches from his deranged face. He whispered to me in a almost controlled voice ‘He’s not dead. He’s not dead, and he’ll be coming for you next. Beware …’ before he could finish his sentence I had broken free from his grasp and the two wardens had re-bound him to the stretcher and moved him into the waiting helicopter. Everyone was expecting another breakdown, but this one was different. Prior to John’s final breakdown he was talking to a man. A CEO of some corporation I don’t remember the name of, but they…
[A faroff crash is heard]
I write this part in great haste. If you ever read this pray for a god, for you will need more than his divine protection to remain. A man is coming for me, the same but different. He is an Orion but where have I seen him before,
[A crash very close by]
But, but, you …
[A image breaks onto the screen, for a split second, maybe even less. An Orion in a traditional human business suit had one of his thick arms holding something right beneath the camera.
Then the screen dies.]
“Your’e sure this is all that the victim recorded?”
“We were fortunate that he was recording this at the time of his disappearance.”
“Harumph, fortune might have at least made some sense out of this. Damn it, might as well give this one to the conspiracy theorists.”
“Yes sir. Oh there is one more thing. A Business man is here to see you.”
Short and silly story wrote:He flailed his arms around, trying to clear the smoke. He could barely breathe, and the smoke was intolerable.
"Wallace *cough* whe-*cough* did you say you ke-*cough* kept the data?"
From his radio came a chirpy response: "T'was in my office, down the main hallway."
Jonas waved around a few more times, helplessly inhaling more of the smoke. Punctuated with coughs, his breathing was pretty ragged. The office floor had been sealed off by the fire department, and the smoke couldn't clear. Hit by another wave of coughing, he lowered himself some as to avoid the main gush of warm smoke. Safety first, he thought sardonically. He'll be safe once he gets his hands on the data, of course, but, by then, he'd probably cough his lungs out.
"Where is it, Wall-*cough* Wallace?"
"T'is down the hallway, of course!"
"Useless prick", Jonas mouthed as not to relay that to Wallae. The little bugger had to have forgotten the files!
He reached the end of the hallway. Looking around, he saw no doors, nothing. The anger in him began bubbling up.
"Wallace, honey, it's not here!"
From the other side of the line came a supressed laugh, and something so painfully obviously mocking that Jonas barely restrained himself: "Down the other end of the hallway, silly!"
He smashed his clenched fist against a wall shortly before crawling away in the other direction.
Coming out of the smoke, Jonas thought he'd go blind. The sheer intense glare of the Sun's light nearly burned his retinas clean off his eyes. His hair and clothes all grey and dusted, he came outside the elevator doors. "Who the hell, *cough*, leaves lifts working after a f-*cough*?"
In front of him stood Wallace, in a spotless white suit, his black hair so perfectly clean and combed, his breathing stable.
"You little bastard! Why the hell did you send me into a fricking smoking building for some goddamn McDonald's meal information!?"
"I like to stay slim", he said as he took the papers out of Jonas' arms and turned around. Jonas was thus left dumbstruck, dirty and barely breathing on the third floor of his friend's workplace building.
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