Chapter One
Smoke, she could smell smoke, thick and acrid particles flying through the air. Grey tendrils snaked their way across the room from under the door. The room was dark. Alarms squawked like exotic birds in some distant jungle it was those that had awoken her. She didn’t need the alarms to tell her something was wrong she could smell it, taste it and feel it as she could feel her own heart beat thudding away like a crazed percussionist.
From the moment she awoke self preservation had taken over. She had a strong survival instinct her instructors kept telling her so. That little voice in her subconscious which cried out for its own preservation. She was five years of age and in a locked room, she resisted the urge to pull on the door knob she had done that many a time before why would it magically open this time? Just because this time she really needed it to, wouldn’t make it happen. The explosions had started then shaking the ground like an earth quake each one getting closer and closer. The sound was deafening, the kind that hit you physically like a blow to the chest.
The room was small and tiled from floor to ceiling the only furniture being the metal framed bed on which she had been sleeping. There were no windows in the room only an air vent in the centre of the ceiling and that was well out of her reach. She had stared at the air vent when she’d first woken feeling impossibly small. Now she was curled up in a tight ball under the bed smelling the faint scent of burning that had wafted in to the room. Charred wood and the acrid smell of melting plastics. She gave a small gasp as her eyes flicked towards the door, the room was lighter she realised suddenly. Frightened tears pricked her eyes as she studied the door now silhouetted with orange light that flickered and danced as if alive. Fire, the corridor is on fire. The thought ripped through her mind threatening to paralyse all thought. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her training she couldn’t give in to panic, panic would freeze her mind, stop her from thinking, get her killed. What should I do? What are my options? What can I use to my advantage? How can I survive? Suddenly there was a new pounding that frightened her more than the explosions. Someone was pounding on the door to her room. Her body jerked with each hollow boom. A voice called from outside but it was lost in the alarms and booming explosions. Prepare yourself, if they get your door open you will have one chance to distract them and run. After scanning the room she slowly reached up and grabbed the pillow off the bed, it was light and insubstantial but it would have to do, it was all she had. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing deeply. In and out, in and out. The banging and explosions faded slightly and she could hear her heart beat begin to slow. She imagined her muscles, her sinews and bones, visualised her blood bathing them, being pumped to them, providing the much needed oxygen. She imagined her muscles and tendons winding like springs, just as she had been trained to do, until they were as taught as they could be then she changed her focus and concentrated on the door ready to release the energy as soon as it opened. The next few moments seemed to stretch on for an incredible amount of time the explosions had died down but the angry red and orange glow around the door was brighter, the fire was stronger and closer. Large wisps of smoke had started to emerge from the gap at the bottom.
There was more banging on the door and then silence. Concentrate remember your training you can do this. Blinding white light filled the room forcing her to look at the floor so that her eyes could get used to it. A few seconds and the light was gone, she heard something metallic drop on to the floor. There was another explosion, far louder than any of the others, and the door flew open banging loudly on the tiled wall. She let the spring unwind, the energy in her muscles exploded. She flung the woefully insubstantial pillow at the silhouetted figure in the door way as she flung herself forwards and headed for the corridor bare feet slapping on the tiled floor. The silhouette easily batted the pillow aside with one arm and looped the other securely around her chest.
“Morgan it’s alright, it’s me.” The figure shouted over the alarms. Morgan looked up in to the familiar face the features were blurry and obscured. I must have smoke in my eyes. But she knew the figure all the same and felt a sense of relief flow through her.
“This way Morgan, come on.” The figure gripped her hand as they turned towards the end of the corridor and began to run. Thick, grey smoke made it hard to breathe deeply. Morgan could feel her chest starting to burn as she sucked in the air she needed to keep her legs pumping. She kept up easily with her rescuer matching them stride for stride. Voices echoed from the other end of the corridor and Morgan found herself being urged along even faster than before she found it hard to keep a grip on her rescuers sweaty hand.
A deep male voice shouted from the other end of the corridor and Morgan heard heavy foot falls on the tiles:
A loud explosion white hot pain and confusion.
Morgan’s eyes watered as she fell forwards on to the cold tiled floor then rolled painfully on to her back. Something’s wrong with my back, I can’t feel anything, I can’t feel my legs. There was screaming all around she could feel her rescuer shaking her trying in vain to get her moving again. The smoke looks like clouds on the ceiling. She mused as she dragged her hand across her stomach. Why is it wet? Bringing her hand up to her face she felt the last of her bodies warmth drain out of her as she stared at it wide eyed. Her hand was red, sticky and warm. Blood, I’m bleeding! She tried to sit up to see what had happened, pain, excruciating and white hot shot up her side and her vision blurred with sudden tears. Footsteps were running, coming closer, voices were getting louder and someone was crying, great mournful sobs that rolled off the tiled walls. The world around her was slowly fading getting darker. Morgan knew she was dying, knew that her blood was forming dark red puddles on the white floor, she knew that when the footsteps got to where she was her rescuer would be dead too but she couldn’t think, couldn’t see clearly, couldn’t even breath. It was getting darker. The footsteps skidded to a stop near her head then the world turned white, there was an explosion and only the pain was real.
With a panicky gasp Morgan Jones shot upright arms and legs tangled in the bed covers sweat dripping down her neck and back. Her heart was hammering in her ears and her breath came in loud, ragged gasps. Slowly with shaking hands she lifted her top and ran her fingers over the tattered scar just above the waist band of her pyjamas, there was a smaller, smoother one on her back. For as long as she could remember she had had this dream and even now at the age of twenty eight she was no closer to understanding it. As far as she could remember she had never been shot or locked in a burning room but it seemed so real, the sounds, smells, feelings and the pain, the terrible, searing pain. Her mother had thought it was ridiculous when she’d first told her about the dream. When she was nine she had asked her mother about the scars and her mother had laughed and pointed at the black wrought iron fence that surrounded their back garden.
“When you were five,” She had said stopping to smooth a stray strand of Morgan’s thick black hair out of her eyes. “Somehow you managed to climb a scaffold we were using to fix the roof, you fell and landed on the railings.” Her smile faltered slightly as she remembered the incident. “The spike went right through the doctor said you were lucky not to get anything important.” Morgan thought about this for a moment, digesting the information carefully, then asked.
“Why don’t I remember?” Her mother’s smile grew wider and seemed fake somehow.
“You were in lots of pain and the doctor gave you some very strong drugs. Maybe the dream is your way of remembering.” Morgan was very confused at this it didn’t make any sense that she would make it all up just because she had hurt herself. Seeing her brow knitted in confusion her mother gave a shrill laugh.
“Pain does funny things sweetie. I was in lots of pain when I had you but I don’t remember it, all I remember is that at the end of it all I had the most beautiful baby girl.” Then she had cuddled Morgan and taken her out for something to eat ending the discussion. When Margret Jones ended a discussion you didn’t start it again. One of her rules something’s you just didn’t talk about.
Her breathing had slowed and her heart beat was no longer hammering in her ears. Taking one final deep breath Morgan swung her shapely legs over the edge of the bed and slipped her feet in to her blue slippers. Stretching her arms over her head and arching her back she stood and walked slowly towards the window drawing one of the curtains aside she looked out. The sun was just peeking over the horizon making the ground appear as black as ink and setting the sky on fire. Morgan figured it was about five in the morning as she turned and stumbled sleepily towards the bathroom. Her reflection startled her. Her long dark hair was matted and stuck to her head with sweat and there were bags starting to form under her large green eyes, her skin was paler than usual due to lack of sleep and the freckles on her nose and the tops of her cheeks stood out.
When she’d finished in the bathroom she grabbed her running gear and dressed quickly. She always ran when she was troubled, the rhythmic pounding of her feet on the concrete never failed to sooth her mind and help her figure out what ever was troubling her. Growing up in that house she had had to run a lot. Secrets always caused stress even if you didn’t know what they were, just knowing they were there was enough. In a funny sort of way her mother’s paranoid and secretive ways had led to her success on the track. She had been a star on the track and in cross country nearly all her academic life. She headed down stairs on cats paws, no use waking mum just because there would be no more sleep for her tonight.
The sky had lightened considerably as she stepped out of the front door and started to stretch. She couldn’t put a finger on why she was so wound up there was just this nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something was wrong like that feeling you get when you walk in to an unfamiliar room before you turn the lights on, something was coming.
Morgan didn’t see the dark figure by the hedge as she began her run. It watched her until she turned the corner then slipped soundlessly from its hiding place and cross the road towards the house that Morgan had just left.
Please remember that Authors are looking for feedback (both positive and negative). If leaving praise, or a critique, please try to qualify your comments - something a little more elaborative than 'Good job', or 'A Bit Boring' is generally encouraged. Please remember this is a creative writing site, so comments should always relate to the style of writing and the content, rather than a discussion about the views expressed.
I joined a couple of days ago and this was one of the first posts I read.
While I would not consider myself qualified to comment on grammar, I know what I like to read, and I liked this.
The only things that slowed me down, or made me want to skip over bits were the points already made by Linton and Cornelius.
When I buy a book I'm usually in a rush at an airport or somewhere, so the first paragraph has to grab me and pull me in, yours did that.
In a nutshell I would buy this first one, fix the other bits and I'll buy the next without even checking. Good luck, Shaun
i tyhink the story is amazing! i am new here, and so your's was the first one i read. i liked it! i could see and smell what she was smelling and feeling.
Grammar, Punctuation, Commas, that's what editors are for. Your ultimate job is to get your book sold. Book buyer will see your name and grab it, like Stephen King, Dan Brown, Nora Roberts, J. K. Rowling, and now I guess Stephene Meyer, but we're not them. After the name of the book (Make it intriguing), they read the back cover. Then, and you know this, they try reading some of the First Chapter. That's critical. Like a TV show, a bomb goes off, there a dead body, a kidnapping. You stay tuned, or you buy the book to see what happens next.
Okay,here goes: I'm not a fan of long paragraphs, long words, lots of adjectives. I read the likes of Raymond Chandler, Raymond Carver, Hemingway, some of Andrew Vachss, Dashell Hammet. What you can say in 50 words can be cut to twenty, with better impact. Adjectives and adverbs get in the way of action, and feelings. Show feeling through dialogue as much as you can. Readers skip over long paragraph of description, and most adjectives and adverbs anyway. Get to it! Keep your vocabulary down to what a sixth grader can understand, (the story can still be very adult), you'll have a larger following, sell many books.
Start with her reaction to the fire, intrigue the reader right off, her background can be told through dialogue later, after the book has been bought. Fire! Screaming! Wild action! (Come visit my blog. See what I mean).
Great writing, Kimberley.
Japanese manga ... or scene in a James Bond story.
The layout (no gaps between para's), looked like it would require lots of effort to read it -- almost didn't bother !!
Even just words, whether on paper or screen, have to be visually appealing to some degree.
In the first sentence, 'smoke' x 2 is correct to impart shock / urgency, rather than using exclamation marks.
Linton's other comments on repetition do apply -- 'their way' not needed between snaked and across, 'alarms' used twice.
'awoke / woken' & 'she had had ...' are also used twice -- select some alternative words or abbreviations ('she'd had to', in the first instance here) for variety.
Lots of promise, keep going !!
i think in many of your sentences you need the use of commas, some of the sentences seemed to need to be seperated for a breath, so as to make them flow better. Other then that the description was very good and i felt i wanted to find out what happens next. Well done.
I do not agree with the last reviewer.
There is no reason why 'smoke' cannot be used twice in a sentence, and it works fine here. Repetition is a quite legitimate literary technique. That tendrils 'snake their way' is fine, too, it is an acceptable play on 'make their way'. I could take issue with the other criticisms, which, in my view, are misplaced. Certainly the grammar is a bit shaky here and there, but I don't think it's that bad, and the story is not disrupted by grammar problems. Storytelling, anyway, doesn't need good grammar; several excellent writers have thrown it to the winds. As long as everything still makes sense...!!! Keep going!
Other then the punctuation and grammer it was really good. It is really descriptive and suspensfull in some part, like when someone was pounding on her door. Great work!
Punctuation and grammar are subjective and can be a nightmare - have a look at this website as you may find it helpful http://www.autocrit.com/
It may help to study the writing styles of your favourite authors and learn from how they construct sentences, paragraphs and dialogue etc.
Good luck, Linton :0)
thanks Linton Grammar and punctuation are the things I struggle with I have a friend who proof reads but I don't like to give things to her until I feel I have done everything I can
There are some issues here with grammar, punctuation and repetition. In the very first sentence 'smoke' is used twice, for example. In the second, 'their way' is not needed inbetween snaked and across. Then 'alarms' is also used twice in the first paragraph.
In the second para 'From the moment she awoke' is not required and then in the second sentence, there should be a comma between 'instinct' and 'her' - similar errors are present throughout and must be removed to improve the flow and reader experience. In most instances, if one word can take the place of three or four, the former option is almost always best.
The story itself is not bad, but it is difficult to read because of the above issues. When posting on a site such as this, it is better to put spaces between paragraphs to make it easier to read. If you have a strong, ruthless edit, I will blad to have another read.
Best wishes & good luck,
Linton
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