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First thing I've written in a while. It's subtle as a brick through a window, but it felt good to write. A Good Guy With A Gun I am hiding behind a sign advertising a dating website, the sound of screams and gunfire fill the air. That gun. Semi-automatic. I don’t know how much he’s got left in that clip, but those belts attached to him means that that doesn’t matter unless somebody stops him. In some sick way, a part of me wanted this to happen. All those drat liberals saying guns never solve problems. They don’t know what they’re talking about. I’m going to prove them wrong. Keep hidden. Low on the ground. This mall is filled with waist-high furniture and kiosks. About 40 feet away. Need to cut that distance in half. He’s going into that store. Does he have a grudge against the company? Someone who works there? Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to ask him. Hide behind the display shelf. Security cameras can see me, but he can’t. I hear clicks. He’s out. I have between 10 and 20 seconds, depending on how good he is. In front of him. A woman. Holding a baby. She’s frozen in fear. I’m going to save her. I pull it out in a motion I practice constantly. 9mm. Keep the permit in my glove box. I’m going to be a hero. He’s fumbling. His adrenaline is working against him. I’ve got him. Aim. Go for the head. He could be wearing Kevlar under that shirt. Pull. The mother screams. I got him. I got No. That… on the floor… He’s turned around. He’s looking at me. On the floor…bleeding. Blood. The woman…knees on the floor…cradling the blood. Cradling the baby. No no no no NO! NO! What did I… I don’t… I never… 99 times out of 100 I… Oh god. The man is gone. I don’t see him. I don’t hear gunfire. Just a mother’s screams.
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# ¿ Apr 11, 2013 23:03 |
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# ¿ Apr 25, 2024 21:20 |
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sebmojo posted:I quite like this, it's sort of prose poemy. Unsubtle, you're right, but it works. I was also thinking that the reason he didn't hear gunfire was because all he could hear were the mother's screams, not because there wasn't any. So I quite like that last line. Honestly I just wanted to write a counterpoint to the inane "The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun" hence the title. I never intended a "No Jon, you are the demons" ending.
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# ¿ Apr 12, 2013 01:37 |
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systran posted:One issue I had was that you are playing off us not seeing the ending coming. If you're going to do that you might want to avoid overt caricatures or the absolute worst case scenario accidental shooting. When your protagonist sounds like an archetypal crazy concealed weapons guy and when there is a "woman holding a baby," then we pretty much know what's going to go down. A Good Guy With A Gun I am hiding behind a sign advertising a dating website, the sound of screams and gunfire fill the air. That gun. Semi-automatic. I don’t know how much he’s got left in that clip, but those belts attached to him means that that doesn’t matter unless somebody stops him. In some sick way, a part of me wanted this to happen. All those drat liberals saying guns never solve problems. They don’t know what they’re talking about. I’m going to prove them wrong. Keep hidden. Low on the ground. This mall is filled with waist-high furniture and kiosks. About 40 feet away. Need to cut that distance in half. He’s going into that store. Does he have a grudge against the company? Someone who works there? Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to ask him. Hide behind the display shelf. Security cameras can see me, but he can’t. I hear clicks. He’s out. I have between 10 and 20 seconds, depending on how good he is. In front of him. A woman. Holding a bag. Can't make out what's in it. She’s frozen in fear. I’m going to save her. I pull it out in a motion I practice constantly. 9mm. Keep the permit in my glove box. I’m going to be a hero. He’s fumbling. His adrenaline is working against him. I’ve got him. Aim. Go for the head. He could be wearing Kevlar under that shirt. Pull. The woman screams. I got him. I got No. That On the floor He’s turned around. He’s looking at me. On the floor Bleeding. Blood. The woman, knees on the floor, cradling the blood. Cradling the baby. No No The baby No What did I I don’t I never 99 times out of 100 I Oh god The gun. I can’t hold… I hear it hit the tile floor. The man the killer the bad guy He’s walking over to me. I’ve vomited on the floor. I hear nothing but his footsteps and her sobs. I want to beg him to kill me but I can’t speak because I I Killed He’s taking my gun. My gun. The gun I shot. Why isn't he pointing it at me? Isn't he going to? Do it. Please. *in my defense, to write the internal monologue of someone who has had a bullet go through their head is pretty silly. Were this traditional prose, I'd likely commit either way. SpiderHyphenMan fucked around with this message at 02:12 on Apr 13, 2013 |
# ¿ Apr 13, 2013 02:07 |
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Obeah posted:While I think the short and halting lines do a fantastic job of conveying the urgency and intensity of the situation, I feel like this story would work best if you lengthened it a bit. In that way, you could flesh out the progression from "relatively (and I stress the qualifier here) calm assessment" to "absolutely panicked monologue" and make the process a little more gradual - generating a deeper level of pathos for the reader. I'm not sure if that's what you want to do with this particular work, but a story with such a psychologically wrenched premise could only benefit from something like that. Trust me, there are far worse things people can say about a story other than "it needs to be longer". A Good Guy With A Gun I’m crouched behind a sign advertising a dating website. It’s not ideal, but I think it’s covering me well enough. I have to filter out the screams, and focus on the gunfire. It’s getting slightly fainter, which means he’s getting farther away. He didn’t notice me. That gun is semi-automatic. I don’t know how much he’s got left in that clip, but those belts attached to him means that that doesn’t matter unless somebody stops him. In some sick way, a part of me wanted this to happen. I’m going to prove those drat liberals wrong, once and for all. I have to keep hidden. Stay low on the ground. This mall is filled with waist-high furniture and kiosks. He’s about 60 feet away. I need to cut that distance in half if I want a clear shot. He’s going into that store. Does he have a grudge against the company? Someone who works there? It doesn’t matter; I’m not going to ask him. Hide behind the display shelf. Security cameras can see me, but he can’t. Have to keep it that way until the last possible moment. I hear clicks. He’s out. I have between 10 and 20 seconds, depending on how good he is. It’s now or never. Gotta get him in my sights. Can’t shoot what I don’t see. He’s looking at a woman. She’s holding a bag. I can't make out what's in it. She’s frozen in fear. I’m going to save her. I pull it out in a motion I practice constantly. I keep the permit in my glove box. I’m going to be a hero. He’s fumbling. His adrenaline is working against him. I’ve got him. Aim. Go for the head. He could be wearing Kevlar under that shirt. Pull. The woman screams. I got him. I got No. That. On the floor He’s turned around. He’s looking at me. On the floor. The bag. Bleeding. Blood. The woman. On her knees. Holding the bag. The blood. The bag. Cradling the blood. Cradling the baby. No No god oh no god please The baby No no no this isn’t this can’t god no What did I I don’t I never 99 times out of 100 I Oh god The gun. This gun. I can’t hold The man the killer the bad guy He’s walking. To me. Vomit. On the floor. Hear no screams. Just footsteps and sobs. I want to wake up I want to wake up I want to die I killed Picks up the gun. My gun. The gun I Why isn’t he pointing it at me? Isn't he going to? Do it. Please. quote:I have been working on this "mini-novel" for a while now. I'm not sure if I'd classify it as neo-noir or post-modern or whatever. I like to think of it as just a story. Anyway, the plot is essentially about the collective unconscious, and the slow but inherent melding of the two realities of modern society (physical life/the internet and its various components) into something I call The Othernet. Basically, my main character (Morgan Stone) finds himself slowly becoming a sort of pioneer figure within The Othernet known as Rebell Yell. First off: I like the tone that you have. It's fun when you do it well, which is about 90 to 95% of the time. The setting is fun, and you set a good atmosphere in the penthouse. As said, the three quotes are too many. Pick one. Go for the Darwin one if you want to bring faith/doubt into the story somewhere down the line, if not then go with Elliot. The Churchill one has a historical context that makes feel limited in some unquantifiable way, while Elliot's is universal. The narration talking to the audience is fine, but phrases like "as you can see" and "as you may have noticed" come off as silly, not wry. I feel that it's less that he can "scarcely remember" when he became a new person and more that there are multiple answers to that question, as it was a process rather than a singular event. "This all, simply put, is too real for me." feels like awkward phrasing. "This is all, simply put, too real for me." flows better, but you might want to excise "simply put" and try something else like "just" or some other adverb that doesn't end in -ly. "The Canadian" is a ridiculous name for someone to choose if they want to inspire fear. I suppose you could do a lot worse than "like the dragons of old" when it comes to a simile for a noire protagonist going to sleep, but it feels over the top, and not in a good way. I actually kind of like the clitoris minus the pleasure metaphor. It gives of this impression of him feeling completely unable to fulfill his function. I think it's clever in that respect. I think it would work a lot better if it was "a clitoris of a man, minus the pleasure" instead of "the clitoris of men" because goddamn, that just sounds ridiculous. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think there's a lot of difference there. Basically, hold every little "quip" in the narration to a certain standard. If you feel it doesn't work or falls below it, rewrite it. Your highs are very good, keep them going for as long as you can. I've always found good noire narration extremely difficult (unless I want to go for a Tracer Bullet style over the top thing,) but you hit more than you miss, so you definitely have a lot of potential here.
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# ¿ Apr 13, 2013 23:29 |
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squeegee posted:"Bullet in the Brain" by Tobias Wolff would like to disagree!
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# ¿ Apr 15, 2013 18:30 |