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So heres a story off the top of my head.
I run in; people on both sides shooting me madly, like a pack of wild wolves. I jump through the air and throw a grenade. Then I roll to the floor and escape to another room. I hear the explosion. I watch the people fly. The first person fly’s up into the air, spinning uncontrollably. All the people fly out like a load of pigeons flying off. Then they all smash to the floor. I come out of the room and have a look around but no-one, so empty that tumbleweed could fly by.
I run downstairs there’s so much silence you could even hear a pin drop. But then I hear a cracking concrete - the steps are breaking. I jump for it just as the stairs collapse. That could have been me falling to my death but it wasn't and that was good. But then I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s a bony hand, the fingers dig into me like knifes. I punch back and knock the person to the floor.
I look down on the floor, its a man he has a gun in his hand, a bruise on his face and a black top on with blue jeans, I’m gonna’ kill this sucker. I hold my gun to his head putting my finger on the smooth trigger. Then blowing this guys brains to the floor. I blast a hole in his head then turn round and put my black boots to the floor and walk away, with a grin on my face. My work here is done. Now I must move and find some more suckers to kill.
I run out the building with my hard shoes walking on the floor. I get in my car, my Nissan 350:Z. I speed off down the road to my next assignment. To Mr Johnson the meanest guy in town. He hadn't paid me for the drug I gave him and that was 3 weeks ago. I drive down to Mr Johnson’s and stop outside his house. He tries to show off with his house, trying to make it really flash by having guard dogs outside. Well I grab my shotgun and blow those mutts heads in. They tried to bark but them mutts didn't have time to I was too quick for them. I blow the lock on the gate and walked in. I throw a rock at Mr Johnson's window and he comes running out.
"Who the hell throw that at my window, come out now", He screams. He can't see me because I am hiding behind the bush like a rabbit hiding from a fox. But then I came out from behind the bush "Hello Mr Johnson" "Errrm Billy I swear I Promise I’m going to get the money" "You said that a week ago Mr Johnson now your dead".
I pump up my shotgun and splatter Mr Johnson's stomach in. I then go into his house and take loads of his stuff, like his big T.V, his wife, all of his money loads of things. Then I set that MONSTERS house on fire and watched it burn. That was all in a nice days work first I killed 20 men then I kill a drug stealing, no good, doesn’t give money back, creep. All a good days work for me the greatest Hitman in town. Now who's my next assignment? I wonder…
I run in; people on both sides shooting me madly, like a pack of wild wolves. I jump through the air and throw a grenade. Then I roll to the floor and escape to another room. I hear the explosion. I watch the people fly. The first person fly’s up into the air, spinning uncontrollably. All the people fly out like a load of pigeons flying off. Then they all smash to the floor. I come out of the room and have a look around but no-one, so empty that tumbleweed could fly by.
I run downstairs there’s so much silence you could even hear a pin drop. But then I hear a cracking concrete - the steps are breaking. I jump for it just as the stairs collapse. That could have been me falling to my death but it wasn't and that was good. But then I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s a bony hand, the fingers dig into me like knifes. I punch back and knock the person to the floor.
I look down on the floor, its a man he has a gun in his hand, a bruise on his face and a black top on with blue jeans, I’m gonna’ kill this sucker. I hold my gun to his head putting my finger on the smooth trigger. Then blowing this guys brains to the floor. I blast a hole in his head then turn round and put my black boots to the floor and walk away, with a grin on my face. My work here is done. Now I must move and find some more suckers to kill.
I run out the building with my hard shoes walking on the floor. I get in my car, my Nissan 350:Z. I speed off down the road to my next assignment. To Mr Johnson the meanest guy in town. He hadn't paid me for the drug I gave him and that was 3 weeks ago. I drive down to Mr Johnson’s and stop outside his house. He tries to show off with his house, trying to make it really flash by having guard dogs outside. Well I grab my shotgun and blow those mutts heads in. They tried to bark but them mutts didn't have time to I was too quick for them. I blow the lock on the gate and walked in. I throw a rock at Mr Johnson's window and he comes running out.
"Who the hell throw that at my window, come out now", He screams. He can't see me because I am hiding behind the bush like a rabbit hiding from a fox. But then I came out from behind the bush "Hello Mr Johnson" "Errrm Billy I swear I Promise I’m going to get the money" "You said that a week ago Mr Johnson now your dead".
I pump up my shotgun and splatter Mr Johnson's stomach in. I then go into his house and take loads of his stuff, like his big T.V, his wife, all of his money loads of things. Then I set that MONSTERS house on fire and watched it burn. That was all in a nice days work first I killed 20 men then I kill a drug stealing, no good, doesn’t give money back, creep. All a good days work for me the greatest Hitman in town. Now who's my next assignment? I wonder…
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Sorry for this I will try and make a better story next time,and I will plan it.
C®ø§$ Bób wrote:
> So heres a story off the top of my head.
Try planning the story next time. That way it won't start off randomly (where do you run into?) and it might actually go somewhere worthwhile rather than just being an orgy of badly described violence.
> I run in; people on both sides shooting me madly, like a pack of wild
> wolves.
Shooting you madly. Right. Then surely you are dead and this story need not go on?
> I jump through the air and throw a grenade. Then I roll to the
> floor and escape to another room. I hear the explosion. I watch the
> people fly.
Not as appalling as the rest of the story, but where's the detail? "I hear the explosion. I watch the people fly"? It's a bloody explosion! Make it exciting! I dunno, something along the lines of, 'I pause for one unbearably long moment before the grenede's deafening thunder almost forces my heart to leap out of my mouth. As I gaze for what seems to be an eternity at the countless bodies helplessly thrown like water out of a fountain, I can sense the bitter taste of fear being replaced with the significantly more bearable taste of vomit. There's no bailing yet, though. It's not over.' That wasn't exactly a perfect example, but can you see what I am getting at?
> The first person fly’s up into the air, spinning
> uncontrollably.
Learn how to spell. According to that sentence, the first person fly has something in the air that is spinning. Hmm...
> I run downstairs there’s so much silence you could even hear a pin
> drop.
A little cliched maybe, but okay fair enough. How about, 'The silence was so intense I could hear my heart beating like a drum. I could sense it trying so desperately to burst its way out of my ribcage, but I wouldn't allow it. I had to push on.'?
Keep trying though Bob, even though I am a bit of a git sometimes :-)
> So heres a story off the top of my head.
Try planning the story next time. That way it won't start off randomly (where do you run into?) and it might actually go somewhere worthwhile rather than just being an orgy of badly described violence.
> I run in; people on both sides shooting me madly, like a pack of wild
> wolves.
Shooting you madly. Right. Then surely you are dead and this story need not go on?
> I jump through the air and throw a grenade. Then I roll to the
> floor and escape to another room. I hear the explosion. I watch the
> people fly.
Not as appalling as the rest of the story, but where's the detail? "I hear the explosion. I watch the people fly"? It's a bloody explosion! Make it exciting! I dunno, something along the lines of, 'I pause for one unbearably long moment before the grenede's deafening thunder almost forces my heart to leap out of my mouth. As I gaze for what seems to be an eternity at the countless bodies helplessly thrown like water out of a fountain, I can sense the bitter taste of fear being replaced with the significantly more bearable taste of vomit. There's no bailing yet, though. It's not over.' That wasn't exactly a perfect example, but can you see what I am getting at?
> The first person fly’s up into the air, spinning
> uncontrollably.
Learn how to spell. According to that sentence, the first person fly has something in the air that is spinning. Hmm...
> I run downstairs there’s so much silence you could even hear a pin
> drop.
A little cliched maybe, but okay fair enough. How about, 'The silence was so intense I could hear my heart beating like a drum. I could sense it trying so desperately to burst its way out of my ribcage, but I wouldn't allow it. I had to push on.'?
Keep trying though Bob, even though I am a bit of a git sometimes :-)
Memorandum! wrote:
> Cheers Row-Jay.
np! Memorandumb
Ah, good times. Who was it anyway, Col?
> Cheers Row-Jay.
np! Memorandumb
Ah, good times. Who was it anyway, Col?
I liked it.
I like the way things always get "blown in". Instead of somebody having their head/brain/arms/genitals blown off, they're always blown in.
I like the drug-dealing hitman too.
I like the way things always get "blown in". Instead of somebody having their head/brain/arms/genitals blown off, they're always blown in.
I like the drug-dealing hitman too.
Cheers Row-Jay.
Memorandum! wrote:
> arg, get some quotation marks in there, Ro-J
O-k
> arg, get some quotation marks in there, Ro-J
O-k
Memorandum! wrote:
> why are 99% of crossbob's stories written in first-person?
He's trying hard to hide his secret identity, and, naturally, he's not too good at it.
> why are 99% of crossbob's stories written in first-person?
He's trying hard to hide his secret identity, and, naturally, he's not too good at it.
It's like he's played a videogame and just wrote down what happened in the form of a crap story.
Surprised you didn't write "I pressed X to jump and Triangle to throw a grenade" and "I tilted the Analogue Stick gently and slowly crept forward"
Surprised you didn't write "I pressed X to jump and Triangle to throw a grenade" and "I tilted the Analogue Stick gently and slowly crept forward"
why are 99% of crossbob's stories written in first-person?
arg, get some quotation marks in there, Ro-J
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