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A killer nobody wanted to catch

by Scott 

Posted: 04 October 2003
Word Count: 966

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The Killer nobody wanted to catch

The follow story is work in progress

Michael walked into the room he had only ever heard of from the mouths of drunken fools who lives had been wreaked by their involvment with the likes of Mr Shanks. His mouth felt dry and his hands dripped wet, he was going against all that society labelled him.

Peter was dead but his death was a mystery, Michael didn’t know the Locals had any involvement but he knew and he knew well enough to confront those he blamed but then he was still worried because knowing didn’t necessarily mean he knew.

The room was lit by a single candle balanced precariously on the edge of the mantelpiece opposite him. It bowed and flickered as he entered, casting ugly shadows across the whitewashed walls. A tiny man with silver-blue hair and a narrow grey face looked up from the table.

"You came, then," he hissed.

Michael felt the bile rise to his throat. His mouth gaped and shut like a goldfish in its bowl, but no sound emerged. Mesmerized he stared at the dwarfish figure at the table. He watched as the thin lips parted in a chuckle.

”Yes, you came. They all come to me in the end.”

The room stank of drink and smoke, though behind these familiar smells, was another odour, strange and sinister, an odour Michael had once known but pushed to the outer edges of his consciousness; but which was now teasing, testing his memory.

Two years earlier

“Just another boring day” thought Michael as he stared down the narrow damp concrete passage he had guarded for the last five years. The eyes in his head rolled to the dirty water soaked floor before turning to his left once again to stare at that door. For five years he had sat at the end of the empty hall with only the infrequent mutters emerge from that red door and for every second, minute and hour he had sat guard there he had always dreamt, wondered and hoped to know what was happening in the secret room he was guarding for the army.

The boredom would shortly pass because his watch was soon up, Michael was due his annual break and Peter was coming home from his mysterious annual break; the drinks would be flowing swiftly before long down the Flying Bomb bar.

“Hey Mikey” roared the bartender “Its great to see you”

“And you Lordy” replied Michael in his quiet voice with a smile he couldn’t hide if he tried

“Whey, how you’ve been stranger, can you tell us what you’ve been you to?”

“You know I can’t Lord”

Lordy passed Michael his favourite drink without even being asked for it and continued with his joyous probing

“So how you doing these days, are things better now?”

Michael took a sip from his lager and his smile slipped a little but by no means dispersed

“I’m good… in fact I’m really good mate”

“Good, that great” said Lordy in a softer manner “you deserve it”

Lordy raised his own little whisky glass and clinked it with Michaels pint, they both nodded efficiently before parting, Lordy to the next customer and Michael to his favourite corner of the bar

Michael sat down alone at a chipped wooden round table on a stool that had probably been in creation for a decade longer that himself had, as he waited for his friends to arrive he would have tapped his foot in anticipation if it had not been stuck to the grubby floor it so firmly stuck to.

He waited only shortly, his glass not even half empty before his first pal briskly ran through the bar door with heavy snow swiftly following him in with the strong wind that raged outside.

“Hey Peter” howled Michael

Almost immediately Michael knew something was wrong, there was no massive hug, no punch to the ribs followed by a childish laugh, nothing, of course Peter smiled when he greeted his oldest friend but something was amiss but then if Michael knew what his friend was about to tell him he wouldn’t be so happy himself

Like Michael, Peter had joined the forces to get himself out of the desolate little town fate had forsaken him in, unlike Michael, Peter’s involvement in the army was a lot more demanding and of over whelming importance. Nobody other than himself and the people he worked for ever had any idea where he was and what he was doing

Peter held the sub-conscious belief that the human race was an hideous infection on the Earth and a potential time bomb waiting to explode in the universe, he had not always been this way inclined but something he did whilst away on his secret journeys churned the idea in his head a little more each time and now the paste was turning very thick

Peter knew Michael had sensed an air of disruption but there was no hiding his feelings, not this time. The news he would shortly give his oldest friend would change all their lives and especially their friendship but nonetheless it had to be delivered for all their sakes. No doubt when Michael learned of what it was Peter had done and brought upon them all he would label him a monster, friendship instantly dissolved and thought of forever more as an evil who would sit comfortably at the likes of Hitler’s table in damnation but then what did he care for good and evil really means nothing if you look at it at its true value, what man casts as good or bad is only its reflection on society around him, what one may class as fine another may see as unforgivable.

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Comments by other Members

Nell at 12:07 on 08 October 2003  Report this post
Scott, I recognise the group story at the beginning of this piece, and it will be interesting to see how this develops.

At the moment it's short and manageable, so before you go any further I'd suggest it might be very helpful and revealing if you printed this out and sat down with a pen, reading aloud very carefully and clearly, and marking those places where the writing doesn't seem to flow as it should. This would be a good start, and I think would teach you a lot.

I'm always impressed by your imagination, and I'm sure you have a potential store of original stories just waiting to emerge, what you need to do is to hone those skills that will make the writing flow for your readers.

Hope this helps, best, Nell.

Account Closed at 19:43 on 08 October 2003  Report this post
I found the beginning of the story intriguing, and it feels as if it could go somewhere. The problem I had with it were that most of the sentances are far too long, and could do with being broken up into smaller chunks to scan better.

Such as:
Almost immediately Michael knew something was wrong, there was no massive hug, no punch to the ribs followed by a childish laugh, nothing, of course Peter smiled when he greeted his oldest friend but something was amiss but then if Michael knew what his friend was about to tell him he wouldn’t be so happy himself

Could read better as:

Almost immediately, Michael knew something was wrong. There was no massive hug, no punch to the ribs followed by a childish laugh - nothing.
Of course Peter smiled when he usually greeted his oldest friend, but something was amiss today. But then, If Michael knew what his friend was about to tell him, he wouldn't have been so happy himself.

The writing is creative, and you obviously have a skill, so i dont mean to be negative. If you are aware of these points, Im sure the story will not only flow better, but develop into something great.


Scott at 19:17 on 09 October 2003  Report this post
Thanks but I really must say (I should have added this before) that paragraph 3,4 & 5 were added by Noddy, Felmagre and Nell since this started out in the exercise lounge forum but didn't attract attention from others for very long but I liked the way it was folding out and so continued on with it. I really wanted this to be a story I could write with someone else but also because I didn’t have a fixed story I was interested in just concentrating on the style of the writing, the mood and doing this all one line/ paragraph at a time.

Ralph at 13:50 on 21 October 2003  Report this post
That's a fascinating idea. Is the intention to eventaully have a story that emerges like one of those pictures drawn on folded paper - each contributer being given only guidelines to carry on from?
Your saying that has actually clarified something in this for me, which is the sense of fragmentation in this. It has the quality of one of those nightmares that leaps around but holds tight enough to the central theme to convince you that all the events are linked together. So far, that style works perfectly with the subject matter.
I do wonder, though, if shorter sentences, and a more concentrated sense of movement would add more to the friction this kind of cracked temporality can provoke.
It's just a thought, so please do feel free to disagree with me, but how about making this a double challenge? If you can get more contributions, or even if you write the rest of this yourself, try maybe limiting use of adjectives and run on lines and see what happens to the mood of the piece.
And if you get the chance to let me know where this does go, I'd be really interested...
All the best with it

Scott at 20:32 on 21 October 2003  Report this post
Thanks Ralph

What you were asking is exactly what I wanted, just a group of people working together, yes at first it may be a ramble or very loosely woven together but as the writer who stuck with it got further down the tunnel, that tunnel would narrow and the story should be strung together more tightly as we all work to a common theme

If you want to contribute to the story you can find it under the title 'Group story 2' in the writing exercise forum

Thanks for your comments


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