NpPaintballer09
October 26th, 2003, 07:18 PM
just want some friendly advice on this.
i am new at writing and would just like some feed back. thx.
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INTRO TO The Fallen
"You look like you've had a rough day there, stranger." The cook said as she poured more soup into his bowl. Her fat face had an inquisitive look on it, staring down at his ruffled clothing and callused hands. She was probably not used to seeing strangers in this small, out-of-the-way town.
"Yeah," he murmured coldly, never looking up. The cook frowned and moved on to another table, muttering harshly under her breath. After servicing some of the other
customers, she retreated to her kitchen, from where she continued to throw glares in his direction.
The man ate his soup. It was sparse bits of chicken in a vegetable broth. It was not very good, but it would suffice. His work in this village would be quick. He already knew that his mark was somewhere on the east side of town. A few arrangements, then the hit, and he was gone.
He shifted in his seat, and his sword rattled against the wooden table, as if to let him know it was anxious and willing to be put to use. His sword was his only friend in this world. Human relationships were a thing of the past, yet they lingered in his memory, constantly reaching out to him, like a drowning child full of life refusing to die. But he cared not. His work was meant for loners, and the solitude suited him.
He stood up, finished with his meal, and loudly dropped some coppers on the table. As he made his way to the door all the eyes in the room followed him. Most were especially fixed on the intricately designed sheath that hung below his black overcoat. The sheath was also black. It had dark blue lines etched into it, and other strange symbols adorned it. The sheath curve slightly, to conform to the curved blade it hid from view.
Normally, the man with the sword would never have attracted so much attention to himself, but his mission ...well his plan for the mission, required that he was seen by the common folk, so that they would pin the deaths on him. Of course he would be gone by then, but nonetheless it was necessary. He walked outside, leaving the peasants to their gossip.
It was a cold and cloudy night. Being well past sundown there was little activity in the quaint town of Henshaw. All the innocents were sleeping peacefully in bed, not
knowing of the evil that roamed this town.
As he walked along the path that led to the outskirts of Henshaw, he thought of the past and what could have been. He had found himself doing this more and more as of
late and it was troubling him. He needed to focus, the most important part of this mission would take place tomorrow. He couldn?t afford to be swallowed by the past.
He found a nice, big oak tree on the edge of town. It was close to the path, but in places like this there was hardly ever trouble. And if his target came after him, he would know. So he unbuckled his sword, tucked it under his arm, and laid down for a night sure
to be full of haunting dreams.
THE FALLEN
i am new at writing and would just like some feed back. thx.
-------------------------------------------------------
INTRO TO The Fallen
"You look like you've had a rough day there, stranger." The cook said as she poured more soup into his bowl. Her fat face had an inquisitive look on it, staring down at his ruffled clothing and callused hands. She was probably not used to seeing strangers in this small, out-of-the-way town.
"Yeah," he murmured coldly, never looking up. The cook frowned and moved on to another table, muttering harshly under her breath. After servicing some of the other
customers, she retreated to her kitchen, from where she continued to throw glares in his direction.
The man ate his soup. It was sparse bits of chicken in a vegetable broth. It was not very good, but it would suffice. His work in this village would be quick. He already knew that his mark was somewhere on the east side of town. A few arrangements, then the hit, and he was gone.
He shifted in his seat, and his sword rattled against the wooden table, as if to let him know it was anxious and willing to be put to use. His sword was his only friend in this world. Human relationships were a thing of the past, yet they lingered in his memory, constantly reaching out to him, like a drowning child full of life refusing to die. But he cared not. His work was meant for loners, and the solitude suited him.
He stood up, finished with his meal, and loudly dropped some coppers on the table. As he made his way to the door all the eyes in the room followed him. Most were especially fixed on the intricately designed sheath that hung below his black overcoat. The sheath was also black. It had dark blue lines etched into it, and other strange symbols adorned it. The sheath curve slightly, to conform to the curved blade it hid from view.
Normally, the man with the sword would never have attracted so much attention to himself, but his mission ...well his plan for the mission, required that he was seen by the common folk, so that they would pin the deaths on him. Of course he would be gone by then, but nonetheless it was necessary. He walked outside, leaving the peasants to their gossip.
It was a cold and cloudy night. Being well past sundown there was little activity in the quaint town of Henshaw. All the innocents were sleeping peacefully in bed, not
knowing of the evil that roamed this town.
As he walked along the path that led to the outskirts of Henshaw, he thought of the past and what could have been. He had found himself doing this more and more as of
late and it was troubling him. He needed to focus, the most important part of this mission would take place tomorrow. He couldn?t afford to be swallowed by the past.
He found a nice, big oak tree on the edge of town. It was close to the path, but in places like this there was hardly ever trouble. And if his target came after him, he would know. So he unbuckled his sword, tucked it under his arm, and laid down for a night sure
to be full of haunting dreams.
THE FALLEN