 |
|
|
Scifi and Fantasy Forum: Writer's Showcase: SF/F Short Stories:
The Golden Dragon
The Golden Dragon
We have moved to new forum software and posting here is closed!
PLEASE BOOKMARK THE NEW FORUMS
Helplessness. Despair. No way. Jon Kravans walked with an astringent turbulence. His head seemed as if locked to his shoulders, his feet scraping against narrow furrows in the rich black soil. Several times he nearly fell, off balance, and unconcerned about his appearance. He came like an injured bear -- a bitter titan -- into town. Large coaches rolled by him, their heavy metallic wheels cutting into the street like teeth. Few eyes came upon him, as on this miserable wet day the people about town were hard-pressed to their chores, heads lowered and minds focused.
Jon Kravans stepped up to a narrow building, its roof tin-shingled instead of thatched. Standing upon its tall and wide deck was the sheriff, a tall and bearded fellow with the golden half-moon upon his left shoulder to denote his authority, speaking with a deputy. They ended their trifling conversation , with cold and unwelcoming stares. Jon Kravans looked up, pulling back the pointed hood of his old brown deerskin cloak. “I am Jon Kravans. Traveler. I am looking for a man named Pike. Don’t suppose he’s been past this way?”
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the Sheriff answered the lone vagabond. “He has.”
To this, Jon Kravans opened up -- his eyes darted out, his mouth hung, and his chin raised. A weight had been lifted by those words. “Has he gone?”
“He is here, last I know. Tell, friend, what business have you with a man such as Pike Normand?”
The two exchanged thoughtful looks. Intense.
The deputy, his eyes narrowed by the sun, with a piece of straw hanging from his teeth, spoke as if to break the tension and ease suspicion on both sides. “He’s an odd gentleman. A humored fellow and a card shark. Nothing wrong with that, only he seems a bit too polished to fit the part, if you catch my meanin’, sir. Easygoing, dignified -- we thought ‘im a industrial entrepreneur, or something. He’s here for reasons that he doesn’t let on. Eyeing up the town, asking a lot of funny questions, not caring about how much money he loses in his --”
“Hold on,” spoke the sheriff, raising his hand to silence his young friend. He stepped forward, his eyes as solid hands clamping onto a board he was about to strike with a hammer. “So, Jon Kravans, eh, tell me what you know about Normand. A friend of yours?”
Jon Kravans held his tongue as he studied the sheriff’s character. He knew that he couldn’t just walk away. He would have to handle this with care. “Something like that. I knew him a while back. Briefly. He owes me some money.”
“DOES he now?” said the sheriff, studying the stranger brutally. “Well … if that be so, have you a written agreement?”
“I have only my word.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” spoke the deputy. The sheriff glanced at him. The deputy turned away, as if trying to hide his frustration.
“I will take you to him.” The sheriff stepped down to the stranger’s side. “I’d be interested in … overseeing this dispute.”
There was no arguing with him. This was clear.
“All right,” agreed Jon Kravans, with a gentle bow.
* * * *
Pike Normand laughed merrily, as the other men hit down their cards upon the round oak table. Pike laughed, gathering up his winnings with greedy arms. Hundreds of red and blue chips, worth thousands of dollars. “Nice game, boys. Nice game. Maybe next time Lady Luck with give you a wink. This’ll pay the rent for a year.”
"Yeah, yeah," grinned one of the men. "Quit bragging, Pike. The only thing that you have left to brag about is how you keep fooling us into thinking that we can beat you." The others laughed. A couple were too bitter, and left the table.
The room became mostly silenced, as in came the sheriff, and from behind him entered Jon Kravans, standing before his old friend. The look upon Pike’s face was priceless: he was astonished, nearly heartbroken. “Wa -- what are you ..? HOW did you find me?”
“Klorea told me your path.”
“KLOREA? No …”
“Yes. She found out what you did with the money that you lifted off her dead boyfriend’s body. The Golden Dragon. The Mission For Sanders. I followed your tracks from day one, and I told her everything. When she realized that it was your fault that Horgman died, that his medical fees weren’t met, she broke down and told me the rest. Each had we a piece of the puzzle. You hold the third. The money?”
Pike’s brow raised high and suspicious. There came then a glare in his eye, and he glanced at the sheriff and back again -- he understood, as quick as a whip. “Aye. I have.”
“I want my share. The half you owe me, by rights.”
Pike reached into his pocket and handed over fifty thousand in bills.
“My thanks, “ said Jon Kravans, taking the money and stuffing it under his cloak.
Pike’s expression turned pleasant. “I must SAY … you do look hard, old friend.”
No smile did Jon Kravans give. “I have been through tough country, without the leisure that you could afford.”
“Hold on now,” came the sheriff, looking to both men. Although in body he had stood there, only now did his presence seem to enter the room. “What was this you said about a “Mission For Sanders’, and a “Golden Dragon’?”
“That’s personal, sir,” spoke Pike. “It has nothing to do with you.”
The sheriff’s eyes stiffened. The room became perfectly silent.
“NOTHING to do with me, huh? I RUN this town. What goes on in it is MY business.”
“I thought the Town Council ran it,” replied Pike.
The sheriff turned to one side, glancing away. Like a shot of lightning he grabbed Pike, but the man swiftly kicked the sheriff in the knee, which forced him back, nearly falling. Pike was to his feet. The deputy came in through the door, leading two more. They withdrew their large daggers. The sheriff did the same. Pike seemed unafraid, hands out and sleek, ready for anything. Jon Kravans unsheathed his sword, which was long and elegant, its blade triple-edged. The lead deputy looked fearfully at Jon Kravans, and spoke, “Hold on now, there’s no need for violence. You are under arrest.”
“I don’t think so,” spoke Jon Kravans, desperate in fever and manner.
The sheriff, blood hungry, ran to drive his dagger into Pike’s stomach, but the card shark skillfully grabbed the sheriff’s arm, kneeing him in the belly. Despite his slender build, Pike overpowered him, striking him down with his solid right hand. A large blue dagger did Pike slip out form his coat, as cunningly as a snake’s bite, and in a flash the sheriff’s throat was cut -- struggling to resist the reality of the wound as he laid upon the floor. Pike grinned down at this, cold, and amused. He then came to Jon Kravans’ side, and the two looked to each other routinely, and turned with sharp confidence to the deputies -- who appeared as shocked as the rest of the room, and backed out the door.
The two men exited as brothers. They walked in the bitter silence, the wind screaming over the town which quickly echoed in news of the battle. They entered the stable, fetched two black mares, and road out with a wild and untamed fervor, out of town.
* * * *
The horses were tied some five miles away. Pike walked out along a large green mound of rock behind their trail. “Clear,” he said with a sentimental grin. As he returned, Jon Kravans approached his old friend, suddenly grabbing him, and forcing him against the upper wall of rock. The rock was rough, and caused Pike to breathe rather despondently, like a man who was dying.
“You lying, crafty --”
“Common, Jon! I -- I did what I had to!”
“You took my cousin’s money in false promise, letting her own brother die, all to fund the ill cause that you had given your word to never pursue!”
“We were BOYS back then. Just boys when we were made to promise. It was a long time ago. A long time.”
“You rescued Sanders. That murdering, thieving gangster. And killed the Seer of Ansuil, the guide of our people, to do so. He should have rotted in that cell -- for the death of my cousin’s brother. You employed help, in the lowest scum, to do this -- all with the money that was given you as a husband, a title which obviously meant NOTHING to you!”
“The reward Sanders’ boys promised was too great … the Golden Dragon … “
“The Golden Dragon is FORBIDDEN. Its power is too great. It corrupts any man who stares upon it. You know that better than any -- for it was your own father who first died in its chaos during the War of Ansuil. The Golden Dragon was taken by the Seer and hidden forever, until that fiend Sanders used his mind powers to track its location. If only such powers had been bestowed to worthier men …”
“The chaos is never-ending. The Pladoriens attack Ansuil each week. It’s only a matter of time until all our trade roots are cut off, until our people are trapped, and until we are invaded. Do you know what it would be like under a Pladorien regime? What they do to the women … the children tortured to keep men twisted to their will.”
“And you believe that the Golden Dragon is the answer? It is the very thing that STARTED this whole mess. Not only would its power corrupt your soul, but if it were to fall into THEIR hands … “
“If it were to, perhaps they would leave us alone. But NO, I have no intention in giving it to them. None.”
“Have you not?” Jon Kravans studied his friend. He eased, letting go. Pike breathed heavily, his back obviously sore. “So … where is it then?”
“It is … over those rocky hills,” said Pike, pointing to the north. “He gave me the directions.”
“If it is no lie, then it is well-guarded. The Seer wanted NO ONE to find it. So, that's what you were doing in town ... eyeing up potential helpers. A risky task.”
“You could help me. You could … shield me. I’d do the work myself.”
“No.”
“Then, the Golden Dragon can be yours to control. I will not touch nor look upon it.”
“No.”
“No, eh? Well … then --” Pike suddenly kicked out at Jon Kravans with both legs, his back against the rock for good momentum. His friend was taken off-guard, tossed over sharp rocks. His head struck a rotten stump. Yet, Jon Kravans opened his eyes, wildly aware, despite his injured body. With great care yet disparity, Pike came in for a kick to his friend’s head. Jon Kravans grabbed Pike’s foot, forcing him to fall to his side. Pike seemed to hit hard, yet as Jon Kravans came to his feet in agony, he kicked out with his left foot -- Jon Kravans was forced back, his feet staggering, until he fell backwards off the rocky cliff.
Pike came over to the edge, carefully. A good thirty feet below, over grass and stone, laid Jon Kravans.
“Fair well, old friend,” spoke Pike with a respectful nod. “Until we meet … on the other side.”
--------------------------
This is part one of a ss I just wrote. Rough draft. Please tell me what you really think: be brutal. 
So what do people think?
Posted By:  Bmat Nov 30, 2004 - 02:59 pm |       | To study someone's character- I'd have thought that to study someone's character involved studying the person's, life, choices, actions, etc.
"astringent turbulence" also made stop and wonder.
A humoured fellow? - as in the humours that were once thought to control the body... phlegm, blood... I can't remember them all, and if so, which one?
he looks hard? meaning that he is intractible? or rough- meaning that he has been through a lot?
Lady Luck "with" give him a wink?
a sentimental grin?
breathing despondently? he breathed sadly?
If someone kicks forward with both feet, they are going to land on their back end, even if leaning against a rock. They would have to be lying back at a considerable angle to not drop right down. IMO.
Should fair well be fare well?
It sounds as though you have worked out an interesting background and gotten a start on some characters. I think that as you work on the story your characters will come alive. I am interested in reading what happens next.
Brutal. Yeah, thats a good word. Umm, other than that, ummm, the whole explanation behind the golden dragon, bad dudes, wars, etc, was kinda hard to follow. Like you wanted all the fighting to fit in (described very well by the well, very easy to visualize) and then just rushed in the explanation of the golden dragon and the people that were killed and this sanders person. I suppose the only suggestion i can give is to make it clearer. Like, the conversation part i guess. I know its only a rough draft and to that i say: well written!
Thanks, Bmat. You make some good points there. I am often criticized for writing things like "astringent turbulence" and "sentimental grin". They make perfect sense to me, but if they do not translate for the reader then the story is not professional. Thus is the value of honest feedback. Oh, there I go again.  I'll consider all the points that you have made.
Thanks, Fiery Red. I wanted to keep it as short and as past-paced as possible. You, like Bmat, have expressed that the story lacks communication. What the "Golden Dragon" actually is, well, I wanted to keep that a secret until the very end.
Thanks you both for reading part one and for your honesty, it is much appreaciated.
Here is part two of "The Golden Dragon." I'll no doubt do some rewriting upon it, and again honest feedback would be appreciated. Do not look at this as "part two", but as a continuation of the story.
THE GOLDEN DRAGON, PART TWO:
* * * *
Pike arrived just outside town. It was an old and long-abandoned hotel, which read WAYFARER’S INN in large white letters. Between division of a mostly shattered metal fence were five men, waiting with their horses tied. They came about as Pike rode in, with a big and greedy smile upon his face. He first looked to Kal, and then to Laul Danison -- who grinned back at him with sharper, hungrier eyes. “Sorry I’m late. I was … distracted." His eyes narrowed on Laul. "Good job, Laul. You’ve found another one, I see.”
“Aye,” replied Laul. “His real name is hidden, as part of the deal. He goes by Frond. You can trust him. He’s a goodin’.”
Frond grinned and bowed. "We met before in Kelmer's Inn. You beat me fer two hundred. You do not remember."
Pike gave a secretive grin. “Oh yeah. Well, I’m sure.” Frond seemed untrustworthy to him, devious by nature, even more so than Laul. But this bothered him little.
Kal took to Pike’s side. “Is there a change of plans? I know when something’s bothering you.”
“What? NOTHING’S wrong, good fellow,” defended Pike. “The mountain awaits us.”
“Good,” spoke Laul. “The sky says we’ll be in rain by nightfall. And so what of ... your friend?"
"Hmm?" came Pike. How much did he know? Laul kept a great poker face. "I dealt with him, my friend. That's all you need to know."
"An odd fellow ... rugged, driven ... and marching to the beat of a different drum, as it were. A witch, perhaps?"
Pike grinned. "No, no witch. Just a friend, leave it at that."
Had Laul watched him kill Jon Kravans? Did he know where the body lie? Would he rat on him? Pike struggled to maintain his stature, but that Frond stared right threw him. Pike cleared his throat, choosing to focus on the job at hand. He mounted his horse, and gave Kal a look as to say KEEP AN EYE ON THEM.
* * * *
The mountain rose like a tidal wave. Dominating, and threatening. A rough trail did Pike lead his underlings up, rising up between two giant thorns of sandy brown stone, until the trail faded away. The horses were there tied to several short trees, and the men carried on on foot. Tied to the back of each man, besides that of Kal that is, was a jundin -- a sleek bow of ancient design, wide and nightmarish, with arrowheads which looked like a bat’s wing. They had been “purchased” by Laul from two merchants, for little more but a day’s salary for a stable boy in return. Pike was bothered by this, but gladly took one for himself, admiring the brilliant make of the elegant weapon.
They walked until a giant cave opening lifted up above it, outer stalagmites appearing as giant red teeth eager to crew them. Numerous cave openings inside lit parts of it up beautifully, while other parts were covered with shadow. Walking would be difficult, as the rocky floor was bumpy and jagged. “ A meticulous task,” sighed Pike, turning to Laul. “Take the others around. Watch for any pursuers. Kill ANYONE you see. Wait for our return. We’ll meet back here by sundown.”
“Right,” said Laul, turning back with the others.
Kal remained to Pike’s side. He waited fearfully until they were out of hearing range. “I don’t trust that Laul. I wouldn’t put it past him to stick some arrows in our backs.”
“Me neither,” replied Pike. “But someone’s gotta take care of any thieves on our trail. Besides, if anyone will die upon this day it shall be him. Trust in me, old friend. Have I ever let you down before?”
“Not as yet. I just want to get out of here in one piece.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way!” smiled Pike.
They traveled for a time through the caves, heading deeper and deeper into the mountain. Light still shone upon part of their wide trail. Still, while he still had the advantage of light Pike removed a tall torch from his back, and lit it with a match. It glue fantastically, like magic. “This’ll light our way through the darkest dark,” he promised his anxious friend. A faint noise sounded in the distance behind them. Pike turned sharply round. “It must be Laul,” he said.
“He’s gonna kill us.”
“No. If he’s smart, and I’ve reckoned him to be, he’ll follow us in, let us lead him all the way to our prize first. By that time, the power will be mine. The poor soul doesn’t know what awaits him.”
"Then what follows us?"
Pike turned round again, with a thoughtful look of concern. "I'm not sure."
* * * *
“He’ll lead us to the treasure,” said Laul to the others. They stood by their horses, in a narrow rocky trail -- a dried up rivulet. Laul stood over the others, his back to a large brown rock. “For the pay that he’s giving us, it must be something mighty nice.”
“Let me take him out myself,” said Frond. “I hate snotty twits like ‘im. A right one he is too, the way he looks down his long nose at chu … like you’re nothing but a common fool. I’ll shoot ‘im right between the eyes.”
“We’ll see which one gets him first,” suggested Laul. “But we must be careful. He may be high society, but he’s no fool; he well knows the country, and how to survive in it. My instinct is that he will suspect our ambush. We’ll have to strike just before he reaches his treasure -- in that fine moment when his eyes are glued to the heavenly gleam of gold, and his mind falls asleep … then, we’ll take him out.”
* * * *
Into the deep dark of the mountain they had gone, deep down. The great flame of Pike’s torch seemed to expose every fine detail of the cave, which included faded runes of ancient times. A rare find, like gold to an historian. Normally, this would have delighted a learned man such as Pike Normand, but not today. On this day, he wanted the Golden Dragon. “We should be there,” said Kal. “By what you said. Baggin’ your pardon, but mah legs grow numb. Perhaps … we could rest?”
“Rest? Now? HA! We, my dear Kal, are almost upon the greatest treasure that this land has ever DREAMED about. This will save our people from those blasted Pladoiens once and for all. We’re almost there, besides … have to be.” They came to what appeared to be a large chamber carved out in the cave’s end, and in the center rose what appeared to be a table, carved of the rock. A golden box sat upon it. Pike’s eyes sharpened wide, his mind fuzzy with near-hysteria. He had found it -- that which he had been searching for all these months -- he had found the Golden Dragon!
An arrow shot by Pike’s head, just inches away. It had come from above. He turned and looked up. Above them, was an ancient balcony of stone, upon which appeared Laul and the other three, jundins in hand. Winds blew down from the caves of above, through many natural channels -- and it was these which had saved him. Pike hurried ahead, jumping behind the stand which held his prize. He aimed an arrow, and shot back at them. Several arrows were exchanged, all missing by fair margins. It soon became obvious to him that there was no real danger, not with the dark, the distance, and those inconstant winds.
Pike grinned. He ran over to the platform, and gently touched the cold gold of the case. He heard shouts of bitterness from above, as Kal watched them with grave concern from his friend’s side. Pike cared no more of them, for he knew what treasure awaited him in that box. He slowly opened the box, until revealed in its rich nakedness before his eyes was the Golden Dragon. It was, as expected, a golden dragon, easily held in both hands. Its large round eyes were white and seemed to be calling to him. He felt a terrible power within it, yet not yet within himself for holding it.
“P-pike!” came Kal, pointing above. “Laul’s lowering a rope!”
“LET them come,” relied Pike, running back the way that he had come in. Kal ran after him.
“Do you feel any great power within you yet. Sir?” asked Kal.
“Not yet. Not yet.” Pike stopped, staring into the eyes of the Golden Dragon. He could feel a pull. It was trying to lure him in. Pike let go, and his consciousness was grabbed away by the item’s power.
Images. Fantastic colors, and sounds. Pike was looking into the past … the ancient past. A rich people of red and gold clothing gathered inside a pyramid of diamond. It was a temple. A woman with a painted white raised the Golden Dragon in her arms, out of an iron box of ice. Pike could see, he could understand -- this ancient people was with war with another. They would lose everything … but for a weapon of great power discovered deep within the human soul by a group of old sorcerers, and a way or reflecting that power … the Golden Dragon. With it, their enemy was defeated, but its poison had infected the user -- the queen -- and little by little it warped the minds of those around her. It plagued her people, and brought them to devastation.
A group of wise men took away the artifact, and hid it deep with a grave of an ancient warrior. But it was much later recovered by thieves -- thieves who used its powers to terrorize, drawing much attention to themselves, so much so that it caught the attention of the Paltoriens, who captured the item and terrorized the coast. It was stolen from them during one battle, by a man who ran with it his hometown. A man named Koro Normand, Pike’s father. It started to corrupt him, when the town was invaded. Paltoriens came for it. The first killed was Koro, whom the leader recognized. But young Pike ran with it in his hands, the item rapped in a white cloth, and it was protected. The invaders were driven off. But a new war had begun, one which would cost the town of Ansuil greatly.
Pike could then see the item taken by the Seer, and saw her take it deep into a cave, to hide it there forever.
“Pike!” shouted Kal, shaking his friend desperately. Pike returned to his body, amidst clouds of dust and thunder. Rocks were falling around them. “The cave is falling in!” said Kal. “The thing must been booby trapped!”
Lowering his head, Pike allowed the powers of the Golden Dragon to swarm into his very soul and body. They lifted up through his body like slivery serpents, crawling into his mind, and mutated it. They made him feel all-powerful, and invulnerable. He used his newfound powers, with difficulty, to hold up the wall with his mind, yet with minimal success. He opened his eyes, seeing Laul and the others racing for him with their jundins readying for a better try. He held out the item, his eyes beginning to glow blue, and a blue mist came out form the Golden Dragon, turning into a powerful beam which shot at the men. Laul was blown away, and two others were blown to pieces. Frond had leapt aside, and shot at Pike. The arrow took Pike in the stomach. He stumbled back in shock, and in disbelief. He shot again, this time the arrow diving deep into his lower right shoulder. Pike raised up his weapon. A wave of light deflected Frond’s next attack, and hit against his body. Frond screamed, and was slammed brutally into a wall far away. His body fell in pieces to the ground.
Laul moaned, forcing himself to his knees. Smoke poured out from his body, burned from the energy power of the Golden Dragon.
Kal removed his dagger and charged the enemy. Laul was too weak to defend himself, and was savagely stabbed down by Kal. He dropped the dagger, staggering back with bloody hands. “I … I … killed ‘im.”
Rocks still fell from above.
Pike turned round to leave, and he was shocked to see the man who stood before him: it was Jon Kravans! He came at first as a shadow, but into the light it was him, without wound or exhaustion. “J--jon ..? No … it … it can’t be.” Jon Kravans walked past him, and as rocks and dust fell over him, he disappeared.
Kal hurried back to his injured friend. The look upon Pike’s face horrified him. “What is it?”
“I just saw Jon Kravans.”
“I thought he was dead.”
Pike looked to him, gravely. “He is. In life he was a shaman, and so he shall be in death. And I have no way of fighting against him … not even with … this. This … thing is … ripping me apart. I can feel it … warping me.” Sweat covered Pike’s face. He was tired, stretched, his heart racing -- yet, he was cold. Very cold. “This thing is … trying to kill the man I am … trying to reshape me to its will.”
“You’re scarin’ me, Pike. Can’t you get control?”
“No, I … I mean, it’s getting control of me. I can’t fight it.”
“These wounds --”
“The Golden Dragon can heal them … but death … looks mighty good right about now. I’ve been a fool, Kal. These powers … are too great, too reckless. They do not SERVE humanity. I have ruined my soul … cursed fool I am!”
“The walls are caving in. You gotta block them!”
“I have to … resist its power … at whatever cost.”
Pike dropped the Golden Dragon, with difficulty. A moan of pain and joy was released as he let it go, but the poisons still infected him, even though the powers of the item could no longer control him. Red beams shot out form it, hitting against the cave walls with a series of eruptions. The beams came over Pike, twisting and turning around … these powers only had life through HIM, and so again struggled for control. The light flew onto his body, half vanishing under his skin. “No!” cried Pike, falling to the ground in misery, his body twisting and turning about violently. “No! Leave me! Leave my body … and soul!” But the powers struggled harder for control.
Afraid, Kal ran away to save himself. Large rocks fell to either side of him, until several large pieces came tumbling down over him, crushing him instantly.
Pike was alone. Alone with his unimaginable pain and turmoil, struggling for control of himself. His body quickly became, like his mind, weak and battered. The powers of the Golden Dragon became stronger, driven by Pike’s own energy. “No … noo .., “ he sobbed, and pleaded.
Again, his old friend Jon Kravans appeared before him, looking down at him with great remorse.
“Jon!” cried Pike, desperately. “I am sorry … for what I did -- I am! PLEASE! I … I must NOT lose my soul!”
“You must give yourself to the light,” advised Jon Kravans. “Trust in it fully and completely, and it will save you.”
“Yes. Yes -- I will do that! Jon. I will DO IT!”
The image of Jon Kravans warped in form, becoming a spiraling ball of pure and fantastic light. Enlightened, driven by desperate hope, Pike rose up, and jumped into the light, his soul uplifted by it away from harm.
Pike’s body fell dead to the ground. Now, the cave came falling in with an uncontrollable thunder. Boulders fell everywhere, and all was blackness.
Dust poured out from the cave entrance, and collapsed in on itself.
* * * *
Nothing further was spoken anywhere of Pike Normand.
Jon Kravans, healer and leader of his people was sorely missed, and his people's war with the Pladoriens continued, the outcome uncertain.
As for the Golden Dragon, it lies buried deep inside the mountain which the Seer had chosen. There it waits, for another to find it.
THE END.
| Posted By: Bmat Dec 02, 2004 - 04:27 pm | | Between division - what is this?
“The thing must been booby trapped!” - maybe just- "must have been booby trapped!" (?)
I liked it. You have effectively described action and tension. I like the last few sentences especially.
Thanks, Bmat. I get your point on "the thing must been booby trapped!" Maybe "the place ... " would make more sense. I'll take a closer look at your other point.
|
|
|
|
|
Discussion
