Help please

Last updated on 10 years ago
Simpso Posted 10 years ago
Hi everyone, im pretty new to writing and just need your much appreciated help regarding my writing style.

I have included part of something i have written so far and would value your opinions. Does it read well, does it create an atmosphere, and so on any advice or anythign would be brilliant.

This is a first draft also so please forgive any slightly clunky scentences.

Just need to know if im on the write track of a good writing style.



Carl took one last puff of his camel cigarette before flicking it out into the damp long grass, he probably should quit he thought, after all he was pushing forty and he had seen two people kick the can from lung cancer this year. On a night like this though he needed all the strength he could summon and a long deep puff on one of his faithful"™s was just what he needed.
Carl fumbled for his watch, holding it up to the dim light, the minute hand ticked over to 11.45. Thirty minutes late, never a good sign.
"˜Damn it"™ carl said, slamming his clenched fist down on the steering wheel. His fist shook, one night, one payoff, simple, they said, everything would go to plan they said, no mistakes though. It was the last part that caused Carls hand to shake, no mistakes.
Winding the window, carl lit another cigarette.
"˜Come on Chris, where are you?"™

Chris could see the cottage now not to far away down a small incline nestled next to the lake. His heart pounded, more from excitement than fear. Checking his watch, 10.30. Thirty minutes in and out fifteen back to the car, jobs a gooden. Reaching around to his back pocket Chris felt the gun, its cold metal kissed his skin sending jolts up his arm. He looked at it with wonder, A Jericho 941/baby Eagle, he had read all the specs in anticipation of this. The guy in the store had sold it to him for a pretty deal, declaring, "the best hand gun available on the market to date and ill stake my reputation on it." Chris was no fool though, he understood the gun salesman spouted the same reheared dribble every time he made a sale. He was just happy to be holding a weapon.
Crouched in the long grass overlooking the cottage he aimed the gun looking dow the sight with one squinting eye, feeling like one of those spy types from the movies. His breathing steady he made a pow noise, pulling the gun back. "˜Dead"™. Smiling to himself he lowered the gun.
The outside of the cottage looked quiet, the small timber balcony which ran around 3 quarters of the building was lit by lamp light casting a dull yellow tinge on the woodwork.
Good, no one around, just like they said, chris thought to himself. Clasping the gun between his fingers, feeling the power and adrenaline flow from it.
The rain had let off whislt he had walked from the car, it was decided early on that Craig would stay in the car at a distance, as not to arouse any suspicion. Which suited craig fine, until the heavy rain had started, the thick grass had quickly become muddy, sending Chris onto his back twice in the short walk. The gun had landed in a ditch of sludge, panicking Chris but he had cleaned it of well, wiping the barrel with his shirt. Placing the gun in his pocket he crouched and slid slowly down the hill. His feet sunk slightly creating a sucking sound every time he pulled his feet loose. The cottage loomed closer, next to the cottage sstood a small boat house painted in the most horrible shade of red Chris had ever seen, god know what it looked like during the day he thought. He side stepped towards it hear the wash of the minute waves from the lake. A small boat bobbed, out in the lake, must have come loose in the storm Chris hoped, feeling his heart begin the beat quicker. Quckly he skirted towards the boat house and pressed his back up against it, he quickly fumbled for the gun in his back pocket, his hands slipped over the barrel as he puled it out clasping it to his chest. Slowly he raised it up to his chin and held the trigger, taking a few slow breaths before peaking around the corener of the boat house. The lake was dark, silent, the small row boat swayed in the wind, Squinting Chris quickly tried to see if someone was aboard. No guards we were told, no security. Looks like they were wrong Chris my old boy, just like that gun sales man, you know everyone talks crap. A sliver of moon light caught the boat, it was empty. Chris felt a wave of relief was over him, his chest loosened. Lowering the gun he put his full weight against the boat house, relief, sweet, sweet relief.
"˜Right, pull yourself together."™ Chris said to himself, a quiver in his voice.
The boat house lay forty feet from the cottage, between here and there the grass thinned out, the owners maintained this part, making Chris slow careful steps all that much easier. The small lamps hummed, several flys buzzed around them trying to find a way in, bumping off the glass before returning for seconds. Light the holy grail for a simple bug, Chris knew his holy grail lay just inside that building, all he had to do was take it and he didn"™t plan on bashing into any glass to get it.
The wood of the balcony was new, freshly painted a pearl white, this was viasble even through the discolouring of the lamp light. The first step creaked causing Chisis heart to stop, he held his breath feeling his body rigid, a small pool of sweat build on his forehead slowly squirmnings its way down over his nose before dropping to the floor. His other foot slowly coming to life moved up the second step no creak this time.
The door lay at the top of the third step, its small brass handle with an ornate end glinted in the light. Chris Closed his eyes for a second clasping the gun tight in his right hand. The reality of the situation had finally weighed down on him. This was real, this was life and death, he hand shook as it closed around the handle. Slowly standing his hand twisted the handle, to his surpise it was not locked, the door opened freely. Stepping inside he felt the plush carpeting cushion his feet. The gun held firmly in front of him looked around. The room was big, a grand fireplace sat to the right of the room surrounded by giant elephant statues with small figuring boys riding their backs. The room was dark lit only by the balcony lamps casting there dim rays through the window.
The door slammed behind Chris suddenly as he was bathed in a bright light.
From up on the hill a passer by heard two loud claps ring out from down by the lake, he later told his wife he believed them to be gun shots. For which she replied, stop being so dramatic you fool now gets to sleep.

Craig took his last puff and flicked the nub out into the long grass, it landed neatly next to the other nub from five minutes ago. The night was quiet, not a sole around these parts for miles, which was good for the job at hand. He had involved Chris at the last minute in this affair more out of desperation, than any real compulsion. Wishing now he had just left him back in the Grindor Inn, slowly sparingly down into a slump of drink and women.
A hand suddenly crashed against the window, causing Craig to almost scream before swallowing it back down again. Blood smeared down the glass leaving a grotesque image straight from a horror movie. Chris shifted his weight and jumped out of the car. The body lay slumped over the bonnet, slivering in pain and blood. A gargled voice called, "˜Craig, help me."™ It took a moment for Craig"™s brain to catch on as shock left him standing there staring. The body writhed about, blood gushing from his side coating the wet bonnet.
"˜Shit Chris, what you done man?"™ Said Craig, still just staring, his hands slumped at his sides.

Carl looked at his injured partner and weighed up his options. No mistakes they were told and this looked like one big mistake. Something had obviously gone wrong, someone somewhere had been tipped off that they were coming.
Carl gritted his teeth, his fingers clenched around the pack of Faithfull's he was holding. Swinging his arm they flew off into the tree line as he bent down close to Chris.
"˜Ok, tell me what happened."™ Carl growled.
Chris shook as the blood gargled up spitting out of his mouth. Trough his tears he told Carl one thing which, prompted him to take the action he took.
This was a mistake he thought to himself. No mistakes. The two words rebounded around his head as his thoughts raced with the potentials outcomes of tonight's mess up.
Chris coughed up more blood, his vision blurred, he called out to his friend.
"˜Carl, get me out of here man, I'm dying."™
His head lulled to the side as his eyes glazed over, his breathing stopped, blood trickled from a small hole in the front of his skull.
Carl slipped the pistol back into his pocket, it felt hot against his side from the discharged bullet.
Standing over his dead partner he had no regrets.
Climbing back into the car he took stock of his situation for a second before gunning the engine. The headlights cast down upon on Chris"™s dead body, the blood had pooled over his face and around his side from the three gunshots.
Carl would live to regret the actions which had been taken tonight and he knew it all to well.
The car banked over the dirt road as he pulled onto the main highway. He drove east as fast he could.
Routh Posted 10 years ago
Simpso, please post this as a writing, not a forum post.

Here is the link to the submission forms for various submissions.

The forums are meant for discussions about writing theories, topics, and ideas. We have dedicated areas for each type of writing you need help with.
Chris Routh
Founder of The Den of Amateur Writing

"Don't try to be a great man; just be a man and let history make its own judgments." - Riker, Star Trek The Next Generation
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