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Between Angels and Devils

48 replies · 12,316 views · Started 07 April 2007

As mentioned/threatened in my other thread ( 😉 ), this is the first chapter of the novel I'm currently writing. It's still only a first draft, but given that the night I was writing it the house was having power blips and my PC kept resetting itself, I ended up re-writing several sections. Take that as you will.

Thoughts and comments would be appreciated, but not essential.

Now... are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...

Daniel Jordan - Between Angels and Devils

Chapter I - Hidden in Plain Sight

It was a cold, dark and generally unpleasant Thursday evening. It was raining slightly and the wind was chilling to the bone. Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he’s never know. It was a depressing place in the best of times, but in these conditions it because a whole new nightmare.
Daniel Jordan reached into his pocket and fished out a stick of gum. He carefully unwrapped it and placed the stick into his mouth. He’d been out here for an hour, and he was thoroughly fed up. If he didn’t show up...
As if to answer his question, a man stepped out of a nearby street and walked towards the pier. As he crossed the road, Daniel could just make out his suit under the heavy coat. This was his man. He stood up, making sure that he wasn’t seen, and followed him towards what had once been a place of happy memories for him.
The man walked down to the side of the pier and made his way towards the beach. It would be impossible to follow him down there, so he’d just have to take the high road. Daniel walked up to the entrance of the pier and carefully climbed over the locked gate. If anybody saw him, they made no indication of the fact.
Blessing the inspiration that had made him wear his trainers rather than his boots, Daniel quietly made his way along the pier, looking over the side to make sure he was keeping up with the man he’d been waiting for. Suddenly he disappeared. Daniel looked over and checked up and down, but he’d vanished. Then he heard voices beneath him and he realized that that man had simply walked underneath the pier. Handy meeting place, he thought to himself as he pressed himself down to the well-worn wood to hear what was going on beneath him.
‘Christ, it’s cold.’
‘What do you expect? It’s January.’
‘...yeah. I guess so.’
Daniel could tell that the man was scared. He should be. He was selling company secrets, a crime which, if Daniel could prove, would see the man locked away for a good while. Reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small Dictaphone, he placed it on the wood beside him and, timing it so that the sound of the waves covered up the slight click, started recording.
‘Did you bring them?’
‘...yeah. Yeah, they’re here.’
There was the sound of something being drawn from the man’s coat and passed over to the other, faceless figure who was awaiting them. Then a slight rustling, as if the second man was flicking through them, making sure they were what he wanted.
‘Good. Here.’
More sounds. Daniel had been doing this long enough to imagine the envelope full of money being passed over, the greedy hands snatching it and opening it, eager to feel the cash for themselves. A name, dammit. That was all he needed now.
‘There... there’s not enough here’ There was a slight panic set into the voice.
‘Yes. You inconvenienced us. Cancelled a meeting we had taken great pains to arrange. There is still plenty there.’
‘But... we arranged for five thousand.’ The voice was more defiant now. He was being wronged, and he wasn’t standing for it. ‘There’s less then four here.’
‘Exactly four thousand.’ The other voice was calm, assured. He’d done this before, god knows how many times. ‘It was very inconvenient.’
‘Dammit all, that’s not fair! They switched my schedule at the last minute; there was nothing I could do!’ The panic had snuck back in.
‘That is not our fault. We arranged a time and a place at our expense. Your changes cost us, and we have deducted you the appropriate amount. You are hardly in a position to argue.’
Something happened that Daniel couldn’t follow. He’d have to see what was going on. Carefully he moved to one of the thin slits between planks and looked down. Even in the darkness, he recognized the glint of a pistol. Which one of them was holding it, though?
‘Simon, don’t be like this.’
Simon. The name. That was all he needed. He could run away, get out, earn his reward. But something stopped him. It was Simon who was holding the gun. The same Simon, he had been assured by the company representative who had approached him the previous day, who was harmless. Who was probably only doing this to pay for his mother’s health care. Daniel looked further up - the other man had his arms out in front of him, gesturing to Simon that this was pointless.
‘I want the other thousand.’
‘The man smiled. Daniel knew, just from that expression, that he didn’t have it on him. He also knew that someone was going to get shot, and that someone was probably going to be Simon. He held his breath.
‘I don’t have it.’
‘Then get it.’
‘Take what you have and leave. This is pointless.’
Simon fired a shot into the ground. It echoed around noisily. What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
‘I need it.’
‘That is a shame. But you will not get it this way. If you were prepared to perform another small task for us, however-’
Another shot, but this time into the air, or rather, the pier. The bullet passed through the wood and flew right past Daniel’s ear, and he involuntarily rolled away from it. As soon as he had done so, he cursed himself. They would have heard him, knew that someone was spying on them. Daniel grabbed the Dictaphone and ran like hell for the town proper, all attempts at stealth forgotten.
He leapt over the side of the pier and landed on the shells that made up the beach. Barely pausing for breath, he continued onwards, ignoring the shots that echoed around. Was it Simon or the other man who was firing the gun? Daniel guessed it would be the other man. Simon didn’t seem like the type to try and kill a man. Then again, he didn’t seem the type to carry a gun, and he’d done that. Another pullet passed him and shook him out of his thoughts. No time for that. Get to safety. Pass the evidence on to the men who wanted it.
After what seemed like an hour, Daniel made it to the pavement. Dashing across the road, he vanished into the shadows of the buildings on the other side. Whoever was chasing him would have a hard time finding him, it they bothered to try at all.
They didn’t. People had been woken by the shots, and as the man approached the road, a shrill woman’s voice yelled at him to stop making so much noise. The man stopped and paused to catch his breath. He wasn’t going to find whoever it was. Probably just some kid out for a wander who’d wondered what was going on. He shook his head and put the gun into the waistband of his trousers. It was nothing to worry about.
Three days later, Simon Demeal was arrested on the charge of corporate espionage. The story wasn’t particularly newsworthy and barely registered in the public’s eye, but as Daniel Jordan placed the case file into the cabinet along with all the other successful cases he’d taken on during the last year and a half, he couldn’t help but allow himself a brief smile. It may not have been a particularly flashy case, but it made a change from the rut he’d gotten himself into. And the bonus he’d gotten once the verdict of ‘guilty’ had been given was a pleasant surprise. As he closed the drawer of the filing cabinet, he made a mental note to call back and thank the company for their generosity. But it could wait until tomorrow. Rescue Me was on in half an hour.

Just from reading that, I would suggest perhaps starting off with the first two lines of dialogue, and then going on to set the setting, so it's more like "Things are happening in real time" as opposed to "this happens and then this happens and so on.
Just my thought.

I can see what you're saying, but I'm not sure why you're saying it. Does it feel slightly wrong as it, or is that just how you would write it?

Taking your suggestion into account, I came up with this (again, it's only a brief draft, but see what you think):

‘Christ, it’s cold.’
‘What do you expect? It’s January.’
‘...yeah. I guess so.’
It was a cold, dark and generally unpleasant Thursday evening. It was raining slightly and the wind was chilling to the bone. Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he’s never know. It was a depressing place in the best of times, but in these conditions it because a whole new nightmare.
Daniel Jordan, lying face down on top of a pier, was watching the two men have their conversation. He quietly chewed the gum in his mouth as he mentally pictured the pair. One he knew, having followed him all the way here, but the other man was a mystery to him. All he knew was what he could piece together from the voice, and that was absolutely nothing.
Slowly he moved himself over to one of the cracks in the wooden planks that made up the pier, making sure not to knock over the Dictaphone he'd set up to record the conversation. The darkness hid the pair well - it was a good meeting place. His efforts to put a face to the voice thwarted, Daniel instead put his ear to the crack and listened to what he could.
‘Did you bring them?’
‘...yeah. Yeah, they’re here.’

...and so on. That seem better? Worse? No different? Thoughts please, people.

I personally like it how it is. I generally dislike books that begin into dialogue, and prefer those that describe the setting or mood first.

That is a great intro. Like I said, the scene is first described, then it gets suspenseful. That's a great attention-grabber. So I give a :thumbsup: for it! So where does the book go after that? 😊

I'm liking your story. It's very atmospheric, and I felt like I was there. It's nice how you were able to lay out the setting without wandering into any purple prose. Nice hardboiled crime story.

I think that it is better in its original form. Some things happen before people start speaking, and it is best to cover that first.

What I found sort of awkward, and maybe only because I'm not used to seeing the technique, is how you use a 3rd person narrator who personifies himself (i.e. thinks the thoughts of) with multiple characters. In this case, moving from mainly Daniel, over to Simon for a brief moment during the chase sequence. Usually in an attempt to create a 3rd person/1st person hybrid, the narrator will limit his mental empathy to the protagonist.

Your style of narration, combined with the past tense verbage, makes your story look like it was designed for an audio format, rather than visual in a book. This is another throwback to hardboiled fiction as you might have heard broadcast over radio in the old days. If anything, it gives your story a more classical feel.

I personally think it's better to start off with dialogue, because the whole starting with "It was..." seems a bit cliched and has been done many times before (and even if it hasn't it certainly feels like it has.) However, this would require a lot of changing around the events that happen (something that I missed on my first skim through.) My point is less about starting off with dialogue and more about changing up the first sentence. Also, the paragraph:

It was a cold, dark and generally unpleasant Thursday evening. It was raining slightly and the wind was chilling to the bone. Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he’s never know. It was a depressing place in the best of times, but in these conditions it because a whole new nightmare.

starts with "It was" a bit too much. Perhaps the following?

It was a cold, dark and generally unpleasant Thursday evening. The wind was chilling to the bone and it was lightly raining. Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he’s never know. Certainly it was a depressing place in the best of times, but in these conditions it became? a whole new nightmare.

Now, this is coming from a composer's standpoint moreso than a reader or a writer. As a composer, I find that I rarely encounter a problem with material, it's moreso about the flow, and that's what I try to scrutinize when reading that. Who am I to say "your material is good/bad?" I have no position to say that, obviously, and certainly not with any authority. However, I might be able to point a few inconsistencies in flow, and even if I'm dead off on any suggestion, it may bring other problems into light.
Every writer could work on something, so certainly, I'm not talking in terms of "good" or "bad." Such subjective terms are totally apart from what I'm focusing on, and I would hope that any suggestions I make would not reflect an opinion either way. It's not about what I like or don't like it's all about it how it feels in my head, for no doubt your style and tastes are vastly different from mine (this much can be seen from how we view the very opening. Who's to say that one is better or worse, inherently?) It's all about how the writing flows. That's what distinguishes fantastic authors/composers from great authors/composers from good authors/composers. Good writers can come up with good material and get it to flow decently without too many snags. Great writers often times will not have the best material, but can pace it so well that it feels like the material is good even if it is subpar. And Fantastic writers are those who can produce A material and pace in superbly. This is, obviously, where everyone desires to be, but it is far more challenging than one would suspect. Anyway, everything I've said applies to composing and, to some degree I feel, writing. I hope that I haven't sounded too pompous. I'm merely an infant in my studies of composition, and this is just what I've gathered so far.
Hope I've helped a little.

Thanks guys, good points all round. Lemme try that first section again:

It was a cold, dark and generally unpleasant Thursday evening. A light fall of rain and a chilling wind combined to prevent anyone from coming out. Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he’s never know. The area was depressing in the best of times, but in these conditions it because a whole new nightmare.

While I understand what you're saying Dechiper, I feel it works best if I don't start with dialog. It adds a sense of speed that isn't in the scene - Daniel (the lead character) has been waiting for this man for an hour, so he's had time to think about his surroundings.

And don't worry - you don't sound pompous. You sound like someone who knows what he's talking about. I appreciate that.

Pineconn: Allow me to quickly mock up the blurb on the back of the book...

Daniel Jordan is about to take on the greatest case of his career. Someone's gone missing, and when they turn up, it's with someone else who bares a remarkable similarity to the devil...

But that's not the only puzzling thing going on in the universe. People are asking questions. Where did the last two weeks go? Why are there devils being sighted? Who on Earth is Paul M Stepson? And why are people dying in the most horrific manner?

To get to the bottom of it all, Daniel's going to need every bit of strength he can summon. But even that might not be enough. This time, he might need to die for the cause...

I like it. Seriously, I've read published authors who couldn't write that good(Mind you, they were on the back of cheap sci-fi/fantasy paperbacks). Still, you're dialouge is definetly the high-point of the excerpt.

He leapt over the side of the pier and landed on the shells that made up the beach.

Landed on the shells that made up the beach sounds a bit like you're forcing it, or somthing. I can't put my finger on it, but it sounds a bit awkward.

How about...

He leapt over the metal barrier at the side of the pier, landing on the shells that made up the upper half of the beach.

Feel any better?

Y'all need to pay attention to tenses of contractions 😉 <hug>

Shouldn't... "Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he&#8217;s never know." ...

Be: "Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he&#8217;ll never know."

😊

I noticed [well, quite a few] typos, but I assumed since:

Darth Marsden wrote:It's still only a first draft, but given that the night I was writing it the house was having power blips and my PC kept resetting itself, I ended up re-writing several sections.

...that they will have been worked out before publication. 😉

Prrkitty wrote:Y'all need to pay attention to tenses of contractions 😉 <hug>

Shouldn't... "Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he�s never know." ...

Be: "Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he�ll never know."

😊


Wouldn't it be
"Why the meeting had to take place down by the seafront he's never known."
?

Thanks for that wonderful piece of help, Lilith. 🙄

Nice to see so many people interested in my work! Seriously. Appreciate all the comments you've made so far, especially regarding that one sentence which I wasn't altogether sure about in the first place. Taking all your thoughts into account, I've redone the section slightly, and this is what I've got now:

It was a cold, dark and generally unpleasant Thursday evening. A light fall of rain and a chilling wind combined to prevent anyone from coming out. Why was the meeting taking place down by the seafront? It was a depressing area in the best of times, but in these conditions it because a whole new nightmare.
Daniel Jordan reached into his pocket and fished out a stick of gum. He carefully unwrapped it and placed the stick into his mouth. He&#8217;d been out here for an hour, and he was thoroughly fed up. If he didn&#8217;t show up...
As if to answer his question, a man stepped out of a nearby street and walked towards the pier. As he crossed the road, Daniel could just make out his suit under the heavy coat. This was his man. He stood up, making sure that he wasn&#8217;t seen, and followed him towards what had once been a place of happy memories for him.
The man walked down to the side of the pier and made his way towards the beach. It would be impossible to follow him down there, so he&#8217;d just have to take the high road. Daniel walked up to the entrance of the pier and carefully climbed over the locked gate. If anybody saw him, they made no indication of the fact.
Blessing the inspiration that had made him wear his trainers rather than his boots, Daniel quietly made his way along the pier, looking over the side to make sure he was keeping up with the man he&#8217;d been waiting for. Suddenly he disappeared. Daniel looked over and checked up and down, but he&#8217;d vanished. Then he heard voices beneath him and he realized that that man had simply walked underneath the pier. Handy meeting place, he thought to himself as he pressed himself down to the well-worn wood to hear what was going on beneath him.
&#8216;Christ, it&#8217;s cold.&#8217;
&#8216;What do you expect? It&#8217;s January.&#8217;
&#8216;...yeah. I guess so.&#8217;
Daniel could tell that the man was scared. He should be. He was selling company secrets, a crime which, if Daniel could prove, would see the man locked away for a good while. Reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small Dictaphone, he placed it on the wood beside him and, timing it so that the sound of the waves covered up the slight click, started recording.
&#8216;Did you bring them?&#8217;
&#8216;...yeah. Yeah, they&#8217;re here.&#8217;
There was the sound of something being drawn from the man&#8217;s coat and passed over to the other, faceless figure who was awaiting them. Then a slight rustling, as if the second man was flicking through them, making sure they were what he wanted.
&#8216;Good. Here.&#8217;
More sounds. Daniel had been doing this long enough to imagine the envelope full of money being passed over, the greedy hands snatching it and opening it, eager to feel the cash for themselves. A name, dammit. That was all he needed now.
&#8216;There... there&#8217;s not enough here&#8217; There was a slight panic set into the voice.
&#8216;Yes. You inconvenienced us. Canceled a meeting we had taken great pains to arrange. There is still plenty there.&#8217;
&#8216;But... we arranged for five thousand.&#8217; The voice was more defiant now. He was being wronged, and he wasn&#8217;t standing for it. &#8216;There&#8217;s less then four here.&#8217;
&#8216;Exactly four thousand.&#8217; The other voice was calm, assured. He&#8217;d done this before, god knows how many times. &#8216;It was very inconvenient.&#8217;
&#8216;Dammit all, that&#8217;s not fair! They switched my schedule at the last minute; there was nothing I could do!&#8217; The panic had crept back in.
&#8216;That is not our fault. We arranged a time and a place at our expense. Your changes cost us, and we have deducted you the appropriate amount. You are hardly in a position to argue.&#8217;
Something happened that Daniel couldn&#8217;t follow. He&#8217;d have to see what was going on. Carefully he moved to one of the thin slits between planks and looked down. Even in the darkness, he recognized the glint of a pistol. Which one of them was holding it, though?
&#8216;Simon, don&#8217;t be like this.&#8217;
Simon. The name. That was all he needed. He could run away, get out, earn his reward. But something stopped him. It was Simon who was holding the gun. The same Simon, he had been assured by the company representative who had approached him the previous day, who was harmless. Who was probably only doing this to pay for his mother&#8217;s health care. Daniel looked further up - the other man had his arms out in front of him, gesturing to Simon that this was pointless.
&#8216;I want the other thousand.&#8217;
&#8216;The man smiled. Daniel knew, just from that expression, that he didn&#8217;t have it on him. He also knew that someone was going to get shot, and that someone was probably going to be Simon. He held his breath.
&#8216;I don&#8217;t have it.&#8217;
&#8216;Then get it.&#8217;
&#8216;Take what you have and leave. This is pointless.&#8217;
Simon fired a shot into the ground. It echoed around noisily. What the hell was he doing? This wasn&#8217;t going to get him anywhere.
&#8216;I need it.&#8217;
&#8216;That is a shame. But you will not get it this way. If you were prepared to perform another small task for us, however-&#8217;
Another shot, but this time into the air, or rather, the pier. The bullet passed through the wood and flew right past Daniel&#8217;s ear, and he involuntarily rolled away from it. As soon as he had done so, he cursed himself. They would have heard him, knew that someone was spying on them. Daniel grabbed the Dictaphone and ran like hell for the town proper, all attempts at stealth forgotten.
He leapt over the metal barrier at the side of the pier, landing on the shells that made up the upper half of the beach. Barely pausing for breath, he continued onwards, ignoring the shots that echoed around. Was it Simon or the other man who was firing the gun? Daniel guessed it would be the other man. Simon didn&#8217;t seem like the type to try and kill a man. Then again, he didn&#8217;t seem the type to carry a gun, and he&#8217;d done that. Another pullet passed him and shook him out of his thoughts. No time for that. Get to safety. Pass the evidence on to the men who wanted it.
After what seemed like an hour, Daniel made it to the pavement. Dashing across the road, he vanished into the shadows of the buildings on the other side. Whoever was chasing him would have a hard time finding him, it they bothered to try at all.
They didn&#8217;t. People had been woken by the shots, and as the man approached the road, a shrill woman&#8217;s voice yelled at him to stop making so much noise. The man stopped and paused to catch his breath. He wasn&#8217;t going to find whoever it was. Probably just some kid out for a wander who&#8217;d wondered what was going on. He shook his head and put the gun into the waistband of his trousers. It was nothing to worry about.
Three days later, Simon Demeal was arrested on the charge of corporate espionage. The story wasn&#8217;t particularly newsworthy and barely registered in the public&#8217;s eye, but as Daniel Jordan placed the case file into the cabinet along with all the other successful cases he&#8217;d taken on during the last year and a half, he couldn&#8217;t help but allow himself a brief smile. It may not have been a particularly flashy case, but it made a change from the rut he&#8217;d gotten himself into. And the bonus he&#8217;d gotten once the verdict of &#8216;guilty&#8217; had been given was a pleasant surprise. As he closed the drawer of the filing cabinet, he made a mental note to call back and thank the company for their generosity. But it could wait until tomorrow. Rescue Me was on in half an hour.

Pineconn: Bear in mind I'm from the UK and we spell some words differently over here. Even so, I only found two typos, both of which are now fixed.

New thoughts?

--It was a depressing area in the best of times, but in these conditions it because a whole new nightmare.

--&#8216;I want the other thousand.&#8217;
&#8216;The man smiled. Daniel knew, just from that expression, that he didn&#8217;t have it on him.

(There shouldn't be a &#8216; in front of the narration.)

--He also knew that someone was going to get shot, and that someone was probably going to be Simon.

(This isn't a typo, but I thought Simon was holding the gun. How would Simon get shot? Or are both men holding guns? Even so, it wasn't apparent.)

--Whoever was chasing him would have a hard time finding him, it they bothered to try at all.

...And that's all. No big deal. 😊

he's = he is

he'll = he will

"... but in these conditions it because a whole new nightmare."

could/should read "... but in these conditions it became a whole new nightmare."

Ack! Stupid me. I'll get it right one of these days. Ok, let's try that again:

It was a cold, dark and generally unpleasant Thursday evening. A light fall of rain and a chilling wind combined to prevent anyone from coming out. Why was the meeting taking place down by the seafront? It was a depressing area in the best of times, but in these conditions it became a whole new nightmare.
Daniel Jordan reached into his pocket and fished out a stick of gum. He carefully unwrapped it and placed the stick into his mouth. He&#8217;d been out here for an hour, and he was thoroughly fed up. If he didn&#8217;t show up...
As if to answer his question, a man stepped out of a nearby street and walked towards the pier. As he crossed the road, Daniel could just make out his suit under the heavy coat. This was his man. He stood up, making sure that he wasn&#8217;t seen, and followed him towards what had once been a place of happy memories for him.
The man walked down to the side of the pier and made his way towards the beach. It would be impossible to follow him down there, so he&#8217;d just have to take the high road. Daniel walked up to the entrance of the pier and carefully climbed over the locked gate. If anybody saw him, they made no indication of the fact.
Blessing the inspiration that had made him wear his trainers rather than his boots, Daniel quietly made his way along the pier, looking over the side to make sure he was keeping up with the man he&#8217;d been waiting for. Suddenly he disappeared. Daniel looked over and checked up and down, but he&#8217;d vanished. Then he heard voices beneath him and he realized that that man had simply walked underneath the pier. Handy meeting place, he thought to himself as he pressed himself down to the well-worn wood to hear what was going on beneath him.
&#8216;Christ, it&#8217;s cold.&#8217;
&#8216;What do you expect? It&#8217;s January.&#8217;
&#8216;...yeah. I guess so.&#8217;
Daniel could tell that the man was scared. He should be. He was selling company secrets, a crime which, if Daniel could prove, would see the man locked away for a good while. Reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small Dictaphone, he placed it on the wood beside him and, timing it so that the sound of the waves covered up the slight click, started recording.
&#8216;Did you bring them?&#8217;
&#8216;...yeah. Yeah, they&#8217;re here.&#8217;
There was the sound of something being drawn from the man&#8217;s coat and passed over to the other, faceless figure who was awaiting them. Then a slight rustling, as if the second man was flicking through them, making sure they were what he wanted.
&#8216;Good. Here.&#8217;
More sounds. Daniel had been doing this long enough to imagine the envelope full of money being passed over, the greedy hands snatching it and opening it, eager to feel the cash for themselves. A name, dammit. That was all he needed now.
&#8216;There... there&#8217;s not enough here&#8217; There was a slight panic set into the voice.
&#8216;Yes. You inconvenienced us. Canceled a meeting we had taken great pains to arrange. There is still plenty there.&#8217;
&#8216;But... we arranged for five thousand.&#8217; The voice was more defiant now. He was being wronged, and he wasn&#8217;t standing for it. &#8216;There&#8217;s less then four here.&#8217;
&#8216;Exactly four thousand.&#8217; The other voice was calm, assured. He&#8217;d done this before, god knows how many times. &#8216;It was very inconvenient.&#8217;
&#8216;Dammit all, that&#8217;s not fair! They switched my schedule at the last minute; there was nothing I could do!&#8217; The panic had crept back in.
&#8216;That is not our fault. We arranged a time and a place at our expense. Your changes cost us, and we have deducted you the appropriate amount. You are hardly in a position to argue.&#8217;
Something happened that Daniel couldn&#8217;t follow. He&#8217;d have to see what was going on. Carefully he moved to one of the thin slits between planks and looked down. Even in the darkness, he recognized the glint of a pistol. Which one of them was holding it, though?
&#8216;Simon, don&#8217;t be like this.&#8217;
Simon. The name. That was all he needed. He could run away, get out, earn his reward. But something stopped him. It was Simon who was holding the gun. The same Simon, he had been assured by the company representative who had approached him the previous day, who was harmless. Who was probably only doing this to pay for his mother&#8217;s health care. Daniel looked further up - the other man had his arms out in front of him, gesturing to Simon that this was pointless.
&#8216;I want the other thousand.&#8217;
The man smiled. Daniel knew, just from that expression, that he didn&#8217;t have it on him. He also knew that someone was going to get hurt, and that man would probably be Simon. The other man had the look of confidence on his face that almost guaranteed he would survive. He held his breath as he continued to watch.
&#8216;I don&#8217;t have it.&#8217;
&#8216;Then get it.&#8217;
&#8216;Take what you have and leave. This is pointless.&#8217;
Simon fired a shot into the ground. It echoed around noisily. What the hell was he doing? This wasn&#8217;t going to get him anywhere.
&#8216;I need it.&#8217;
&#8216;That is a shame. But you will not get it this way. If you were prepared to perform another small task for us, however-&#8217;
Another shot, but this time into the air, or rather, the pier. The bullet passed through the wood and flew right past Daniel&#8217;s ear, and he involuntarily rolled away from it. As soon as he had done so, he cursed himself. They would have heard him, knew that someone was spying on them. Daniel grabbed the Dictaphone and ran like hell for the town proper, all attempts at stealth forgotten.
He leapt over the metal barrier at the side of the pier, landing on the shells that made up the upper half of the beach. Barely pausing for breath, he continued onwards, ignoring the shots that echoed around. Was it Simon or the other man who was firing the gun? Daniel guessed it would be the other man. Simon didn&#8217;t seem like the type to try and kill a man. Then again, he didn&#8217;t seem the type to carry a gun, and he&#8217;d done that. Another pullet passed him and shook him out of his thoughts. No time for that. Get to safety. Pass the evidence on to the men who wanted it.
After what seemed like an hour, Daniel made it to the pavement. Dashing across the road, he vanished into the shadows of the buildings on the other side. Whoever was chasing him would have a hard time finding him, if they bothered to try at all.
They didn&#8217;t. People had been woken by the shots, and as the man approached the road, a shrill woman&#8217;s voice yelled at him to stop making so much noise. The man stopped and paused to catch his breath. He wasn&#8217;t going to find whoever it was. Probably just some kid out for a wander who&#8217;d wondered what was going on. He shook his head and put the gun into the waistband of his trousers. It was nothing to worry about.
Three days later, Simon Demeal was arrested on the charge of corporate espionage. The story wasn&#8217;t particularly newsworthy and barely registered in the public&#8217;s eye, but as Daniel Jordan placed the case file into the cabinet along with all the other successful cases he&#8217;d taken on during the last year and a half, he couldn&#8217;t help but allow himself a brief smile. It may not have been a particularly flashy case, but it made a change from the rut he&#8217;d gotten himself into. And the bonus he&#8217;d gotten once the verdict of &#8216;guilty&#8217; had been given was a pleasant surprise. As he closed the drawer of the filing cabinet, he made a mental note to call back and thank the company for their generosity. But it could wait until tomorrow. Rescue Me was on in half an hour.

There. Fault THAT.

😊 couldn't find one Darthy... fault that is. So there!! *sticking my tongue out atcha*

By the way... very nice start to the story. I would honestly like to keep reading it as you add to it. Please and thank you 😊

--It was a cold, dark and generally unpleasant...

(Nowadays, there is a comma before the "and" when you use a list of 3 or more. However, it is still acceptable to exclude it. So I wouldn't change it if you would have to break a habit.)

--Reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small Dictaphone, he placed it on the wood beside him and, timing it so that the sound of the waves covered up the slight click, started recording.

(You kind of change tenses here. It's slightly nonparallel. I suggest that you change "covered" to "would cover". But it's not technically incorrect.)

--Another pullet passed him and shook him out of his thoughts.

(Another what, now?)

So only one more definitive error. Maybe I should stop this. My English teacher always told us that we would never make friends correcting people's grammar. 😃

But I really do like your intro. I also like your style; it's sort of stream-of-consciousness.

Cries

It was a cold, dark and generally unpleasant Thursday evening. A light fall of rain and a chilling wind combined to prevent anyone from coming out. Why was the meeting taking place down by the seafront? It was a depressing area in the best of times, but in these conditions it became a whole new nightmare.
Daniel Jordan reached into his pocket and fished out a stick of gum. He carefully unwrapped it and placed the stick into his mouth. He&#8217;d been out here for an hour, and he was thoroughly fed up. If he didn&#8217;t show up...
As if to answer his question, a man stepped out of a nearby street and walked towards the pier. As he crossed the road, Daniel could just make out his suit under the heavy coat. This was his man. He stood up, making sure that he wasn&#8217;t seen, and followed him towards what had once been a place of happy memories for him.
The man walked down to the side of the pier and made his way towards the beach. It would be impossible to follow him down there, so he&#8217;d just have to take the high road. Daniel walked up to the entrance of the pier and carefully climbed over the locked gate. If anybody saw him, they made no indication of the fact.
Blessing the inspiration that had made him wear his trainers rather than his boots, Daniel quietly made his way along the pier, looking over the side to make sure he was keeping up with the man he&#8217;d been waiting for. Suddenly he disappeared. Daniel looked over and checked up and down, but he&#8217;d vanished. Then he heard voices beneath him and he realized that that man had simply walked underneath the pier. Handy meeting place, he thought to himself as he pressed himself down to the well-worn wood to hear what was going on beneath him.
&#8216;Christ, it&#8217;s cold.&#8217;
&#8216;What do you expect? It&#8217;s January.&#8217;
&#8216;...yeah. I guess so.&#8217;
Daniel could tell that the man was scared. He should be. He was selling company secrets, a crime which, if Daniel could prove, would see the man locked away for a good while. Reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small Dictaphone, he placed it on the wood beside him and, timing it so that the sound of the waves would cover up the slight click, pressed the record button.
&#8216;Did you bring them?&#8217;
&#8216;...yeah. Yeah, they&#8217;re here.&#8217;
There was the sound of something being drawn from the man&#8217;s coat and passed over to the other, faceless figure who was awaiting them. Then a slight rustling, as if the second man was flicking through them, making sure they were what he wanted.
&#8216;Good. Here.&#8217;
More sounds. Daniel had been doing this long enough to imagine the envelope full of money being passed over, the greedy hands snatching it and opening it, eager to feel the cash for themselves. A name, dammit. That was all he needed now.
&#8216;There... there&#8217;s not enough here&#8217; There was a slight panic set into the voice.
&#8216;Yes. You inconvenienced us. Canceled a meeting we had taken great pains to arrange. There is still plenty there.&#8217;
&#8216;But... we arranged for five thousand.&#8217; The voice was more defiant now. He was being wronged, and he wasn&#8217;t standing for it. &#8216;There&#8217;s less then four here.&#8217;
&#8216;Exactly four thousand.&#8217; The other voice was calm, assured. He&#8217;d done this before, god knows how many times. &#8216;It was very inconvenient.&#8217;
&#8216;Dammit all, that&#8217;s not fair! They switched my schedule at the last minute; there was nothing I could do!&#8217; The panic had crept back in.
&#8216;That is not our fault. We arranged a time and a place at our expense. Your changes cost us, and we have deducted you the appropriate amount. You are hardly in a position to argue.&#8217;
Something happened that Daniel couldn&#8217;t follow. He&#8217;d have to see what was going on. Carefully he moved to one of the thin slits between planks and looked down. Even in the darkness, he recognized the glint of a pistol. Which one of them was holding it, though?
&#8216;Simon, don&#8217;t be like this.&#8217;
Simon. The name. That was all he needed. He could run away, get out, earn his reward. But something stopped him. It was Simon who was holding the gun. The same Simon, he had been assured by the company representative who had approached him the previous day, who was harmless. Who was probably only doing this to pay for his mother&#8217;s health care. Daniel looked further up - the other man had his arms out in front of him, gesturing to Simon that this was pointless.
&#8216;I want the other thousand.&#8217;
The man smiled. Daniel knew, just from that expression, that he didn&#8217;t have it on him. He also knew that someone was going to get hurt, and that man would probably be Simon. The other man had the look of confidence on his face that almost guaranteed he would survive. He held his breath as he continued to watch.
&#8216;I don&#8217;t have it.&#8217;
&#8216;Then get it.&#8217;
&#8216;Take what you have and leave. This is pointless.&#8217;
Simon fired a shot into the ground. It echoed around noisily. What the hell was he doing? This wasn&#8217;t going to get him anywhere.
&#8216;I need it.&#8217;
&#8216;That is a shame. But you will not get it this way. If you were prepared to perform another small task for us, however-&#8217;
Another shot, but this time into the air, or rather, the pier. The bullet passed through the wood and flew right past Daniel&#8217;s ear, and he involuntarily rolled away from it. As soon as he had done so, he cursed himself. They would have heard him, knew that someone was spying on them. Daniel grabbed the Dictaphone and ran like hell for the town proper, all attempts at stealth forgotten.
He leapt over the metal barrier at the side of the pier, landing on the shells that made up the upper half of the beach. Barely pausing for breath, he continued onwards, ignoring the shots that echoed around. Was it Simon or the other man who was firing the gun? Daniel guessed it would be the other man. Simon didn&#8217;t seem like the type to try and kill a man. Then again, he didn&#8217;t seem the type to carry a gun, and he&#8217;d done that. Another bullet passed him and shook him out of his thoughts. No time for that. Get to safety. Pass the evidence on to the men who wanted it.
After what seemed like an hour, Daniel made it to the pavement. Dashing across the road, he vanished into the shadows of the buildings on the other side. Whoever was chasing him would have a hard time finding him, if they bothered to try at all.
They didn&#8217;t. People had been woken by the shots, and as the man approached the road, a shrill woman&#8217;s voice yelled at him to stop making so much noise. The man stopped and paused to catch his breath. He wasn&#8217;t going to find whoever it was. Probably just some kid out for a wander who&#8217;d wondered what was going on. He shook his head and put the gun he'd snatched from Simon into the waistband of his trousers. It was nothing to worry about.
Three days later, Simon Demeal was arrested on the charge of corporate espionage. The story wasn&#8217;t particularly newsworthy and barely registered in the public&#8217;s eye, but as Daniel Jordan placed the case file into the cabinet along with all the other successful cases he&#8217;d taken on during the last year and a half, he couldn&#8217;t help but allow himself a brief smile. It may not have been a particularly flashy case, but it made a change from the rut he&#8217;d gotten himself into. And the bonus he&#8217;d gotten once the verdict of &#8216;guilty&#8217; had been given was a pleasant surprise. As he closed the drawer of the filing cabinet, he made a mental note to call back and thank the company for their generosity. But it could wait until tomorrow. Rescue Me was on in half an hour.

Actually, I have asked you to point out my mistakes, so you're not losing a friend at all. It's better to have them pointed out now rather than later, so thanks for spotting them all.

I like to think of you guys as my test group, and you've all done a great job. Thanks a million, all of you. Now if we're all done with this chapter, I think it's time for the next one...

Ya know... I read "pullet" as "bullet". It's funny how our brain will read what it's supposed to be as opposed to what it truly is. 😊

Okay, looking good. After another round of proofreading, the chapter appears to be errorless.

Pullet, bullet... Spell check won't help 100% of the time. 😉 I never even knew that "pullet" was a word.

I usually don't read this type of story, but I thing that you're doing a pretty good job with it regardless. :mischief:

pul&#183;let (p&#335;l&#8217;it), n. a hen less than one year old.

Well there ya go. 😊 I can't wait until that pullet grows up so that I can eat it.

Ok, Chapter Two is taking longer then I thought to finish - it's pretty dialog heavy - so to tide you over until I can complete it, here's a small section from a later scene.

Daniel moved over to the window, and sure enough, blurs of red were clearly visible in the distance. He was staring at them, trying to figure out if they really were what people were saying they were when one of the dots started moving towards him. As it drew closer, Daniel realized it was actually targeting him, and leapt to the right just before it crashed through the window.
Landing slightly awkwardly, Daniel turned round to see just what had crashed into his apartment. The creature was spinning round in the air, aiming for him again. Blinking, Daniel quickly examined the red monster. It looked almost like a human, except for the horns and the giant wings that stretched from its back. For a second, its eyes locked with Daniels, then the demon let out a guttural roar and charged for him again.
On reflex, Daniel kicked out with his foot. Thankfully, he hadn't taken his shoes off when he'd come home, and the heavy boot somehow managed to collide with the demon's jaw. It let out another, more painful roar, clutching its jaw as it flew backwards into the light hanging from the ceiling.
Taking advantage of the few seconds he'd gained, Daniel got up and ran over to the cabinet a few feet away. Reaching on top of it, he grabbed the shotgun he kept up there and aimed it at the demon. Almost as soon as he did, the creature charged at him again, and Daniel pulled the trigger.
The demon flew back into the opposite wall as shotgun pellets slammed into his chest. Sliding down onto the floor, it groaned in agony as Daniel stepped over it and pointed the shotgun at its nether regions.
'Now... are you going to talk' he said, gesturing with the shotgun, 'or am we going to say goodbye to the mini demon?'
The demon looked up on him, the fire in his eyes dying a little. 'Fine' it spat out. 'Whaddya wanna know?'

Sorry for the double-post. I was hoping someone would respond to my awesome preview of Chapter 7 (I'm estimating that that's where it'll go), but no such luck, sadly. 😞

Anyway. I would really appreciate people's comments about Chapter 2, which I have now finished and is posted below. Everyone (Lilith excepted) was incredibly helpful with the previous chapter, and I'd be much obliged if they now turned their critical eye(s) to this latest installment. There's a few things I'm not too sure about with this one, but I'll leave it up to my 'Beta Testers' to point out what could be improved. 😉

A coupe of you have been waiting for this, so here we go. Enjoy!

Daniel Jordan - Between Angels and Devils

Chapter 2 - Back in Action

The next fortnight was unusually quiet for Daniel. In all, he&#8217;d only taken on two cases, both of which had been his normal fare of &#8216;my partner is cheating on me and I want you to obtain proof so I can divorce them without giving them any money&#8217;. In all honesty, Daniel had been glad of the quiet life. The previous few months had been much busier, and several times he&#8217;d only survived intact by the skin of his teeth. Private Investigating was a dangerous business, and he was glad of any breaks that he could get.
He&#8217;d spent the downtime doing some essential housekeeping. He&#8217;d tidied up the small 4-roomed apartment which he&#8217;d lived in since leaving home some 3 years ago, and had re-organized his case files, currently sitting in an ugly filing cabinet in what he called the study. His bedroom had needed some serious cleaning, and he&#8217;d vacuumed the front room. The kitchen, he&#8217;d decided, didn&#8217;t need anything done at all. For the past 6 months he&#8217;d lived on take-out food and microwavable dinners, though his hectic lifestyle had helped to stop the weight from building up.
Once he&#8217;d finished tidying (which, given that he&#8217;d been interrupted twice, had taken several days), he took it easy. Catching up on his favorite TV shows, playing with his new Wii console, reading the few books he&#8217;d picked up that he hadn&#8217;t gotten round to yet... it had been a fairly relaxing time.
Perhaps it was a good thing that it had suddenly been ended. The knock at the door had only interrupted the Bond book Daniel had been reading, and the woman who had barged in as soon as the door had opened slightly hadn&#8217;t even given him the chance to say anything before making herself at home and sitting in his recently vacated chair. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he closed the door and addressed her.
&#8216;Can I help you?&#8217;
The woman turned to him, the look on her face exclaiming the obviousness of the question. There was obviously little point in treating her as unintelligent.
&#8216;Yes. I need you to find someone.&#8217;
The hand went through the hair again, this time pausing to rub the back of his neck. &#8216;Who?&#8217; he asked, his mind slowly creaking back to life after the time off.
&#8216;My brother&#8217; came the response, along with another look of superiority. &#8216;Shouldn&#8217;t you be writing this down?&#8217;
&#8216;I&#8217;ll remember it. When did you last see him?&#8217;
She shook the hair out of her face as she spoke. &#8216;Years ago. Our parents divorced, and he went with our father.&#8217;
Daniel sighed. It was going to be an irritating case. &#8216;What was his name?&#8217;
&#8216;Michael. Michael Hargraves.&#8217;
Wandering over to the nearby table, Daniel grabbed his notepad and withdrew the pen jammed into the rings at the top. Skimming to the first clean page, he asked the woman to spell the surname, and he wrote it down as she did so. Asking for her name, she put her well manicured hand into her coat and pulled out a calling card, which she gave to him. Reading it, the name Sophie Richards leapt out in horrendous gold leaf on top of a somewhat hypnotizing pattern of leopard-print. The cards must have cost a small fortune to have printed. He took another quick look at her.
Shoulder-length brown hair half hung over her face, almost concealing her heavily made-up face. Her dull blue eyes looked bored, and the clothes she wore, all expensive, top-of-the-line labels, conveyed that this was a woman who was used to getting what she wanted. Having handed her card to Daniel, she was now looking at her nails, waiting for him to respond. He did so.
&#8216;What was your father&#8217;s name?&#8217;
She stiffened slightly. &#8216;John, James... something like that.&#8217;
&#8216;Why do you and your brother have different surnames?&#8217;
&#8216;I took my mothers, he took his fathers.&#8217;
So, he was looking for a Michael Hargraves, or, failing that, a John or James Hargraves. That was something, at least. He probed further.
&#8216;Anything else you can tell me? Where he was last seen, any other family members, that sort of thing?&#8217;
She looked up at him. &#8216;No, nothing. That&#8217;s what&#8217;s made this so frustrating.&#8217;
Yeah, I&#8217;ll bet, thought Daniel as he put the pad of paper onto the table. Of all the people to shake him out of his holiday, he had to have a spoilt rich kid who didn&#8217;t understand that she couldn&#8217;t always get everything she wanted at the click of her fingers. He was tempted to not even bother - just call her sometime next week, saying that he&#8217;d found nothing.
Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he inwardly cursed himself. Why would he do that? People like this pay the bills. He looked over at Sophie, who was once again checking her nails. He may not like it, but few people ever really liked their jobs. He was luck to enjoy it most of the time. He walked over to the door and opened it.
&#8216;Ok. Well I&#8217;ll look into this and get back to you if anything turns up. If you think of anything else...&#8217;
He picked up one of his own business cards from the small table beside the door and handed it to her as she approached him. Unlike the lurid slight of hers, his cards were plain white with black text on. His sister, having achieved her childhood dream of being a graphic designer, had designed them for him when he&#8217;d announced to the family that he was becoming a Private Investigator. Thinking about this, Daniel realized it&#8217;d been some time since he&#8217;d last spoken to his sister. He decided to give her a call once he&#8217;d had a preliminary check into Mr. Hargraves.
Sophie looked at the card and then glanced back up at Daniel, the disapproval written all over her face. &#8216;Yes. Well, I hope to hear from you. Soon, if possible.&#8217;
In the back of his mind, Daniel saw her fingers snapping. He shoved the image away. &#8216;Well, I can&#8217;t promise anything, but I&#8217;ve nothing else on at the moment, so this&#8217;ll have my full attention.&#8217;
&#8216;Glad to hear it. &#8216;
She walked out the door and Daniel closed it behind her. She had been relatively polite to him, and yet he couldn&#8217;t wait to have been rid of the woman. He hadn&#8217;t even talked about his going rates with her. As if she cared, he told himself. She probably had more money then sense anyway.
Walking into the kitchen, he reflected on the afternoon before checking his watch. Nothing was on TV tonight, so he&#8217;d have a quick look on the internet for his Mr. Hargraves, and if nothing came up he&#8217;d give his sister a call. It&#8217;d be good to talk to her, he reflected. She had a bubbly side to her that was infectious, and he&#8217;d become too routine lately. A good pick-me-up lecture would probably do him some good. He grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge and then headed back into the study.
An hour and a half later, Daniel gave up. His usual web-haunts had failed him, and he&#8217;d already e-mailed his two other contacts that might be able to help him. Plenty of Michael Hargraves lived in UK, but none of them could possibly be the ones he was after. One was a DJ in Liverpool, another was a Barrister up in London and a third, he was surprised to find, worked in the same company as his sister.
He reached for the phone to give her the promised call when he saw his watch. Nearly 6:00. He decided to hold off from calling her until he&#8217;d caught the Six o&#8217;clock news. Walking into the front room, he grabbed the remote from the sofa and promptly collapsed into it the way his parents had never let him when he was younger. Thinking of this, a slight smile spread across his face as he aimed the remote at the TV and turned it on to BBC1.
10 minutes later, Daniel got up and went back to the phone. Much to his irritation, the biggest story that evening had been that of a new best-selling novel. Watching the story, Daniel realized that he recognized the author of &#8216;For God&#8217;s Sake!&#8217;. Paul M. Stepson had used to run a burger bar just outside where he&#8217;d gone to school. Flipping buns to flipping off Catholics by claiming God didn&#8217;t exist... Daniel shook the sheer lunacy of it out of his head as he picked up the handset and dialed his sister&#8217;s number.
&#8216;...hello?&#8217;
&#8216;Hey Natalie.&#8217;
&#8216;Daniel! Ah, it&#8217;s been ages! How are you?&#8217;
A smile spread across Daniel&#8217;s face. He could picture her as she was talking. It may have been a while since they&#8217;d last seen each other, but he could clearly remember her. &#8216;Ah, I&#8217;m alright. Just looking at the cards you did for me and got all nostalgic.&#8217;
&#8216;See? I told you they&#8217;d come in handy!&#8217;
He pictured her smiling. &#8216;That you did. So how are you?&#8217;
A faint thump came from the background. His mental image of her had suddenly sat down in a chair. &#8216;I&#8217;m good, actually. Got some big project that I&#8216;m not allowed to talk about.&#8217;
&#8216;When are you ever?&#8217;
&#8216;I know, I know... one of these days I&#8217;ll get something I can share with you, honest!&#8217;
Daniel laughed. He loved his sister, but not that much. &#8216;No rush, please.&#8217;
Now it was her turn to laugh. &#8216;Why, if I didn&#8217;t know better, I&#8217;d think you were discouraging me!&#8217;
&#8216;Then I guess it&#8217;s a good thing you do know me, isn&#8217;t it?&#8217;
Another laugh. &#8216;Yeah... Hey, listen. I don&#8217;t suppose you&#8217;d mind doing me a favor?&#8217;
Without hesitation, Daniel replied &#8216;I don mind, thank you very much.&#8217; His last favor for her had ended up with him plunging into the swimming pool belonging to one of her friends, along with a cold that seemed to last for a month.
&#8216;I promise, it&#8217;s nothing as bad as last time.&#8217;
&#8216;That&#8217;s exactly what you said LAST time!&#8217;
She laughed again. &#8216;Oh, come on! Please? Pretty please?&#8217;
Daniel couldn&#8217;t help but give in. He&#8217;d do anything for her, and she knew it. &#8216;...tell me what it is, and I&#8217;ll think about it.&#8217;
&#8216;Yay!&#8217; she squealed, knowing she&#8217;d won. &#8216;Thanks bro. I&#8217;ll make it up to you, promise.&#8217;
&#8216;What is it?&#8217;
&#8216;Ok. So, recently I&#8217;ve been getting all nostalgic lately, right? And I decided to get back in touch with one of my old friends, &#8216;cause we used to be BFF&#8217;s or whatever. With me so far?&#8217;
Daniel nodded as he confirmed that he was.
&#8216;Ok, so I gave her a buzz over MSN, and she came back saying it&#8217;d been ages since we&#8217;d last seen each other, blah blah blah. So we agreed to meet and just, y&#8217;know, hang out.&#8217;
Picturing the scene, Daniel smiled. He&#8217;d had a best friend back in school, but, of course, they&#8217;d grown apart. Ian was in insurance these days, he believed.
&#8216;So we were gonna meet yesterday at that place we always meet up. Remember the one?&#8217;
&#8216;What, the AGN? Yeah, good times&#8217;
Another laugh. &#8216;Yeah, that&#8217;s the one. Anyway, she never showed up, and I can&#8217;t get her back on MSN or anything. Just wondered if you&#8217;d mind tracking her down for me, since that&#8217;s what you&#8217;re so good at these days.&#8217;
Daniel moved over to the computer and moved the mouse. The screen-saver turned itself off and revealed the results of his last search. &#8216;Ok, I&#8217;ll give it a go. What&#8217;s the name?&#8217;
&#8216;Dana Lucile.&#8217;
Sitting down, Daniel passed the phone over to his left hand as the right went for the mouse. He clicked the cursor into the search bar and the hand moved over the keyboard. &#8216;Ok, D-A-N-A...&#8217; he spoke as he typed.
&#8216;L-U-C-I-L-E.&#8217; he sister told him as he continued. Hitting enter, he waited for the results of the search. One struck him in particular - a blog. He clicked the link and the screen turned almost completely black, except for the text, which was a hard-to-read shade of purple, and a picture of, presumably, Dana.
&#8216;Black hair, brown eyes, looks kinda like a Goth?&#8217; he asked.
&#8216;I dunno, I never saw her, remember?&#8217; came the reply.
&#8216;She never sent you a photo or anything?&#8217; He highlighted the text to make it legible and started reading it as he spoke.
&#8216;Oh yeah, she did. Hang on.&#8217; Another dull thud as, Daniel imagined, his sister put the phone onto the table. He continued reading the blog and found the text somewhat disturbing. After a minute or two, he heard the phone being picked back up.
&#8216;Yeah, that&#8217;s her.&#8217;
&#8216;Well, I&#8217;ve found her blog, and it&#8217;s... well, it&#8217;s an interesting read, I&#8217;ll say that much.&#8217;
A note of worry set into the voice. &#8216;What&#8217;s it say?&#8217;
&#8216;Uh, hang on, lemme read some to you.&#8217; He scanned the page, trying to find something that would convey Dana&#8217;s thoughts. He found a section and read it out.
&#8216;Ok, here we go. &#8216;Last night I found the ritual. Soon I will summon him, and he and I will be together forever. I&#8217;ve waited so long for this; I can&#8217;t believe I finally found it! Can&#8217;t wait to try it out.&#8217; Sounds pretty weird, huh?&#8217;
His sister paused for a minute. &#8216;Is there an address?&#8217;
Daniel scanned through the text. &#8216;There&#8217;s an e-mail address if that what you meant, but nothing else. Sorry.&#8217;
&#8216;What&#8217;s the e-mail?&#8217;
Daniel gave it to her. Once he&#8217;d done so, he continued to scan the text.
&#8216;Ok, I&#8217;ve got it. I&#8217;ll give her a buzz. Thanks Dan, I owe you big for this.&#8217;
&#8216;Hmm? Oh yeah, sure.&#8217;
Concern filtered though the phone. &#8216;You Ok?&#8217;
&#8216;Yeah, just reading more of this. There&#8217;s some pretty serious stuff here, Nat.&#8217;
&#8216;What&#8217;s the URL?&#8217;
Daniel was about to give it to her when, as he scrolled down further, he saw several very inappropriate images. &#8216;...actually, I don&#8217;t want you reading this.&#8217;
&#8216;Why? Does she slag me off of something?&#8217;
&#8216;No, there&#8217;s just... Ok, there&#8217;s images of demons doing really nasty things to women, and to be honest, I like your state of mind right where it is.&#8217;
Natalie laughed. &#8216;It can&#8217;t be that bad!&#8217;
&#8216;Yeah, it can. There&#8217;s one with like three demons, one woman and so much blood I&#8217;m not gonna sleep for a week.&#8217; Much as he wished he was, Daniel wasn&#8217;t exaggerating. The images were seriously disturbing.
&#8216;Really? Oh, now I gotta see them.&#8217;
&#8216;NO.&#8217; Daniel almost yelled the phrase into the phone. There was a pause as Natalie thought of what to say. After almost a minute, she started talking about something completely different, all bad blood between them suddenly brushed aside. Daniel smiled again. She had a habit of doing that, but it was an endearing one.
The two talked for almost half an hour before Natalie closed off the conversation. Wishing her a good night, Daniel hung up and placed the phone back into its station. As he did so, his gaze turned back to the image displayed on his screen. It really was horrific.
He moved to close the window, before pausing. What if there was an address somewhere here? He closed his mind to the disturbing imagery and scrolled further down. All of a sudden, there it was. Right at the bottom of the page, in the second entry. A road. Pentaview Lane. That was enough. He reached for the phone again and got in touch with another old friend.

If someone could please post and stop this thread from going under, I'd appreciate it...

Sorry for not posting for so many days. Revisions in underlined text:

--Reading it, the name Sophie Richards leapt out in horrendous gold leaf on top of a somewhat hypnotizing pattern of leopard-print.

Not a typo, just wondered what that means, exactly. :tongue:

--&#8216;I took my mother's, he took his father's.&#8217;

Apostrophes.

--He was lucky to enjoy it most of the time.

Mm, I love the cereal Luck Charms. 😃

--&#8216;Glad to hear it.&#8217;

You had the wrong end apostrophe. No biggie.

--She probably had more money than sense anyway.

Such a common mistake, the mixing up of then and than.

--His usual web-haunts had failed him

Should that be haunts or hunts? Looking in the dictionary, haunt can be defined as to recur persistently to the consciousness of; to visit frequently. So which ever you implied you should put.

--&#8216;I don&#8217;t mind, thank you very much.&#8217;

Yeah, you left that out. 😊

--His last favor for her had ended up with his plunging into the swimming pool...

Another common mistake. Plunging is not actually a verb in this sentence, but instead a gerund (or possibly a participle, but that doesn't matter). So therefore you should use the possessive case of the pronoun, his. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should look it up - knowing about it will make you seem even smarter. 😉

--&#8216;What, the AGN? Yeah, good times.&#8217;

Niiice. Oh yeah, and you need that period at the end.

--&#8216;L-U-C-I-L-E.&#8217; his sister told him as he continued.

His, not he.

~

That should be it, but I'll proofread it again when you revise it. I like this chapter better than the last, it finally shows the main character's... character. So he has a Wii, huh? 😛