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| | The Write and Publish Fiction Network is not currently active and cannot accept new posts | | First Chapter of Blood Vengeance: Not of this World | Views: 649 | | Jul 05, 2007 2:23 pm | | First Chapter of Blood Vengeance: Not of this World | # | 
Martha Jette | | This book is a joint effort between myself and an American sciptwriter. Thus the author's name which reflects both of us.
Cold Case: #4-183
Blood Vengeance: Not of this World
By M.J. Stant
Chapter 1
The black Intrepid darted through the mid-day traffic at a reckless pace. FBI Agent Jeremy Jones turned the wheel hard and fast on to Plymouth Street.
“Damn it, Jones. Take it easy or you’ll get us both killed,” said Bailey Phillips.
“You wanna catch this guy or not?” Jones responded flashing a glance at his partner.
“Of course, but this is ridiculous.”
On the sidewalk an old woman hunched over struggled to push a shopping cart along the broken sidewalk. As the vehicle careened on to Market Street the tires gripped the road emitting an ear-piercing screech. In his rearview mirror, Jones could see the woman with fist raised mouthing words he could not hear.
Phillips whirled around in her seat to take a look.
“You scared the be Jesus out of that woman. Slow down!”
Suddenly, Jones forcibly slammed down on the brakes sending Phillips flying forward in her seat. As the car skidded to a stop, both of them jumped out and ran toward a row of thick green bushes where a young boy lay sprawled overtop. A bicycle lay in pieces on the hot pavement.
"Oh, my God," Phillips exclaimed as the two of them raced toward the youngster.
“Are you all right?” Jones shouted as he neared him.
“I don’t know,” said the boy who appeared to be about eight years old.
He looked up dazed, tears running down his flushed cheeks. Jones carefully lifted him off the bushes and laid him down on the thick, soft grass.
"I'm so sorry," he said kneeling beside him and smoothing back his straight blond hair. "I was in a hurry and didn't see you pop out in front of that car."
Brown eyes as big as saucers stared back at him.
"You should watch where you're going, mister," he whimpered wiping away tears.
“Can you sit up?” he asked putting an arm around the boy’s back.
“I don’t know," he replied.
The blare of an ambulance siren blasted in the distance.
“Well, this is just great, Jones,” said Phillips, hands on her hips towering over them. “Smart move. You've hit a kid and now Stephens is going to get away too.”
“Sorry Phillips.” He looked up sheepishly.
“Well, hurry up. Maybe we can still find him.”
“Just hold on, all right? This kid might be hurt.”
“You’re going to be hurt when the boss finds out about this,” she replied proceeding to pace back and forth furiously.
Jones sat with the boy until the ambulance arrived. A male attendant quickly exited the vehicle and ran toward them.
"What happened here?" he asked.
"This youngster rode out into the road and I didn't see him," Jones replied as the attendant checked the boy for broken bones.
"What's your name, son?"
"Daniel."
"Well Daniel, you're a very lucky fellow. It looks like nothing is broken. I think you're going to be just fine," he said helping him to his feet.
“I think I’m all right, mister," he replied looking toward the road, "but my bike is totally wrecked.”
“Better the bike than you, eh?” replied Jones tousling his hair. “Give me your phone number and I’ll see that you get a new one.”
“Really?” asked the youngster.
“Of course, Daniel – a brand spanking new one.”
Turning to the attendant, Jones asked, “Are you sure he’s all right?”
"Well just in case, we're going to take him to the hospital," said the man. "You never know. There could be internal injuries.
Just then a cruiser rolled up and a burly officer stepped out.
"Oh this is just great," Phillips seethed. "This could take all day."
"Whose vehicle is that?" the police officer asked bluntly pointing to the dented Intrepid.
"It's mine officer," Jones replied flashing his FBI badge.
Obviously not impressed, the officer asked Jones to join him in the cruiser to give a full statement.
"Let me talk to the boy a minute. I need to get his phone number.
Jones hurried toward the ambulance with the youngster now inside. The attendant had just shut the back doors.
"Where are you taking him?"
"Over to Baptist Hospital."
"Thanks."
Jones returned to the police car and got in. By the time he finished giving his statement and returned to his vehicle, Phillips’ dark eyes glared back at him.
“Thanks to you and you’re stupid driving, we’ve blown this case, Jones. We’d better head back to the office right now and check in.”
Jones knew better than to argue with Phillips. Six years his senior, she could easily get him demoted in the agency. He started the car and headed toward downtown Phoenix. If not for the music blasting from the CD player, the silence would have been deafening.
I walk a lonely road;
The only one I’ve ever known
Don’t know where it goes
But its home and I walk alone.
(Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day from their album American Idiot - 2004)
As they entered FBI headquarters, Phillips added, “I know you’re still somewhat of a rookie, Jones but you’ve got to learn to be more responsible.”
“Hey you two,” a voice shouted from down the hall. “Get in here. I need to talk to you… now.”
“Oh, oh,” Phillips responded. “Sounds like Walters already heard.”
Jones swallowed hard as he opened the office door for Phillips.
"How'd it go? Did you nab Stephens?" Walters asked.
"He got away from us," Phillips announced. "Sorry about that, chief."
“Well, it happens. Anyway, I just got word of a major kidnapping slash murder-suicide case over in Payson,” Walters said as he rose from the seat behind his desk. “I’m putting you two on it, so be prepared to go out to the crime scene tomorrow afternoon. Here’s the report from the Payson Police Department.”
He handed it to Jones. Jones opened the file and saw a grisly photo of a middle-aged man - his face half blown off and covered with blood. He reached for a chair and sat down. As he flipped through the file, two other murder victims stared lifelessly back at him. Then his mind clouded over with a strange vision of an old derelict house.
He entered through a rickety wooden door and looked around to find it was deserted. There were holes in the wall of the living room and down the dingy hallway to the kitchen, cupboard doors hung by their hinges. As he turned back toward the front of the house, he saw an old wooden staircase leading to the second floor.
He moved up the steps and when he reached the landing, a hallway with faded rose wallpaper led to a partially opened doorway that seemed to beckon him on. As he neared the door, he could clearly see the letter “F” ominously written in blood. He reached gingerly forward to swing it open and inside, the walls oozed with blood – dripping downward leaving pools of red on the worn wooden floor.
Jones shook his head and as he came around, he quickly realized that both Phillips and Walters were staring point blank at him.
"What's wrong with you, Jones?" Phillips asked.
“I... I guess I was just stunned by these photos,” he replied rising slowly from his seat.
“Well get over it," Walters interrupted. "Sergeant Deloran will be meeting you two in Payson at 1 p.m. tomorrow.”
As he rose to leave, Jones breathed a heavy sigh of relief thinking Walters hadn't heard about the accident yet.
“Not so fast, Jones,” his boss added.
“Crap,” thought Jones. “He does know.”
“I want you to lead this investigation. It will be good experience for you.”
“Yes, sir,” Jones replied with relief and headed for the door.
Back home, Jeremy eased back into his lounger and flipped on the television. Running his fingers through his thick brown hair, he tried to relax but it had been a particularly difficult day. He hoped a couple of lagers would help take the edge off.
“I could have killed that kid,” he thought taking a gulp. “Phillips is upset too and I don’t even want to know what the boss will say when he finds out.”
Private Reply to Martha Jette | | Jul 05, 2007 8:02 pm | | re: First Chapter of Blood Vengeance: Not of this World | # |
Jenny | | Hi Martha ;)
My comments within:)
Chapter 1
The black Intrepid darted through the mid-day traffic at a reckless pace. FBI Agent Jeremy Jones turned the wheel hard and fast on to Plymouth Street.
“Damn it, Jones. Take it easy or you’ll get us both killed,” said Bailey Phillips.
(TRY: Bailey Phillips said. I know it's not a big deal, but editors/publishers are asking for this more and more.)
“You wanna catch this guy or not?” Jones responded flashing a glance at his partner.
(TRY: Jones flashed a glance at his partner. Or take it even a step further and try: Jones flashed a glare at his partner. Makes it more immediate and eliminates the tag--which really should be "asked" instead of "responded.")
“Of course, but this is ridiculous.”
(GREAT opening here, love the action of it all ;) )
On the sidewalk an old woman hunched over struggled to push a shopping cart along the broken sidewalk. As the vehicle careened on to Market Street the tires gripped the road emitting an ear-piercing screech. In his rearview mirror, Jones could see the woman with fist raised mouthing words he could not hear.
(THIS paragraph needs some work. Read it outloud to help you find the stumbling points. Also, you're into a POV problem here. Watch your 'filters' too--'could see' isn't necessary if you cement us in Jones's POV to begin with.)
Phillips whirled around in her seat to take a look.
“You scared the be Jesus out of that woman. Slow down!”
(THAT should be either "bejesus" or "bejeezus.")
Suddenly, Jones forcibly slammed down on the brakes sending Phillips flying forward in her seat. As the car skidded to a stop, both of them jumped out and ran toward a row of thick green bushes where a young boy lay sprawled overtop. A bicycle lay in pieces on the hot pavement.
(YOU don't need the "suddenly" here, the adverbs detract from the immediacy--just show it: Jones slammed on the brakes. Phillips flew forward. From there, you need a little bit of sensory input from your POV character to make the reader aware that something has occurred other than Jones just stopping because he reached his destination.)
"Oh, my God," Phillips exclaimed as the two of them raced toward the youngster.
(THE tag here is redundant as you had them both racing forward to where the boy is in the previous paragraph.)
“Are you all right?” Jones shouted as he neared him.
“I don’t know,” said the boy who appeared to be about eight years old.
He looked up dazed, tears running down his flushed cheeks. Jones carefully lifted him off the bushes and laid him down on the thick, soft grass.
(MY readerly instincts isn't sure if I buy this or not. Trained pros know better than to move an injured person without a backboard or help to make sure that no further injuries may occur.)
"I'm so sorry," he said kneeling beside him and smoothing back his straight blond hair. "I was in a hurry and didn't see you pop out in front of that car."
(SMOOTHING back hair is a very feminine thing to do. I'm thinking that an FBI agent would be more interested in taking a pulse, checking the dilation of pupils, keeping the boy talking until help arrived--btw, did they radio it in?)
Brown eyes as big as saucers stared back at him.
"You should watch where you're going, mister," he whimpered wiping away tears.
(Try combining the description with the dialogue so you can delete the need for a double tag.)
“Can you sit up?” he asked putting an arm around the boy’s back.
(AGAIN, I don't think that a boy who was airborne is going to be asked to sit up by an FBI agent.)
“I don’t know," he replied.
The blare of an ambulance siren blasted in the distance.
(WHO called the ambulance?)
“Well, this is just great, Jones,” said Phillips, hands on her hips towering over them. “Smart move. You've hit a kid and now Stephens is going to get away too.”
“Sorry Phillips.” He looked up sheepishly.
“Well, hurry up. Maybe we can still find him.”
“Just hold on, all right? This kid might be hurt.”
“You’re going to be hurt when the boss finds out about this,” she replied proceeding to pace back and forth furiously.
(IS she that much of a cold-hearted witch? Really? And do you think it's usual for FBI agents to speak like this in front of a child/witness?)
Jones sat with the boy until the ambulance arrived. A male attendant quickly exited the vehicle and ran toward them.
"What happened here?" he asked.
"This youngster rode out into the road and I didn't see him," Jones replied as the attendant checked the boy for broken bones.
(YOUNGSTER? Is Jones an elderly gent from the country?)
"What's your name, son?"
"Daniel."
"Well Daniel, you're a very lucky fellow. It looks like nothing is broken. I think you're going to be just fine," he said helping him to his feet.
“I think I’m all right, mister," he replied looking toward
the road, "but my bike is totally wrecked.”
“Better the bike than you, eh?” replied Jones tousling his hair. “Give me your phone number and I’ll see that you get a new one.”
“Really?” asked the youngster.
“Of course, Daniel – a brand spanking new one.”
Turning to the attendant, Jones asked, “Are you sure he’s all right?”
"Well just in case, we're going to take him to the hospital," said the man. "You never know. There could be internal injuries.
Just then a cruiser rolled up and a burly officer stepped out.
"Oh this is just great," Phillips seethed. "This could take all day."
"Whose vehicle is that?" the police officer asked bluntly pointing to the dented Intrepid.
"It's mine officer," Jones replied flashing his FBI badge.
Obviously not impressed, the officer asked Jones to join him in the cruiser to give a full statement.
"Let me talk to the boy a minute. I need to get his phone number.
Jones hurried toward the ambulance with the youngster now inside. The attendant had just shut the back doors.
"Where are you taking him?"
"Over to Baptist Hospital."
"Thanks."
Jones returned to the police car and got in. By the time he finished giving his statement and returned to his vehicle, Phillips’ dark eyes glared back at him.
(THE above section needs a lot more work. It's scattered, without a tight focus, and contradictory. First, the paramedics would never help the boy stand up. They would strap him to a backboard, then a gurney, then they would take him to the hospital immediately--in case there were any internal injuries. Second, you have Jones not at all interested in the boys name, then you do, then he doesn't get it--and no one contacts the parents, or thinks of contacting them. Third, you have the cop show up, but no one notifies Jones's superiors who mostly likely would be called in if the FBI is involved in a car accident involving a minor in case the parents decide to sue the bureau later on. It's just not written believably. :( Sorry!)
“Thanks to you and you’re stupid driving, we’ve blown this case, Jones. We’d better head back to the office right now and check in.”
Jones knew better than to argue with Phillips. Six years his senior, she could easily get him demoted in the agency. He started the car and headed toward downtown Phoenix. If not for the music blasting from the CD player, the silence would have been deafening.
I walk a lonely road;
The only one I’ve ever known
Don’t know where it goes
But its home and I walk alone.
(Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day from their album American Idiot - 2004)
(YOU can't use the actual lyrics when writing fiction without getting permission from the label. What you can do, though is write it this way. "Greenday growled through the speakers, singing about lonely roads walked alone and Jones agreed." Or something to that effect.)
As they entered FBI headquarters, Phillips added, “I know you’re still somewhat of a rookie, Jones but you’ve got to learn to be more responsible.”
“Hey you two,” a voice shouted from down the hall. “Get in here. I need to talk to you… now.”
“Oh, oh,” Phillips responded. “Sounds like Walters already heard.”
Jones swallowed hard as he opened the office door for Phillips.
"How'd it go? Did you nab Stephens?" Walters asked.
"He got away from us," Phillips announced. "Sorry about that, chief."
“Well, it happens. Anyway, I just got word of a major kidnapping slash murder-suicide case over in Payson,” Walters said as he rose from the seat behind his desk. “I’m putting you two on it, so be prepared to go out to the crime scene tomorrow afternoon. Here’s the report from the Payson Police Department.”
(TOMORROW afternoon? I'm not sure why he would have them wait that long. There's a reason that show on TV is called "48 hours" :) )
He handed it to Jones. Jones opened the file and saw a grisly photo of a middle-aged man - his face half blown off and covered with blood. He reached for a chair and sat down. As he flipped through the file, two other murder victims stared lifelessly back at him. Then his mind clouded over with a strange vision of an old derelict house.
(NO, you absolutely cannot leave a superb moment of paranormal introduction to simply "his mind clouded over." Uh-uh, ain't gonna happen. You really need to dig in and show this. If you want some help with that, I'll work with you on it here if you want ;))
He entered through a rickety wooden door and looked around to find it was deserted. There were holes in the wall of the living room and down the dingy hallway to the kitchen, cupboard doors hung by their hinges. As he turned back toward the front of the house, he saw an old wooden staircase leading to the second floor.
He moved up the steps and when he reached the landing, a hallway with faded rose wallpaper led to a partially opened doorway that seemed to beckon him on. As he neared the door, he could clearly see the letter “F” ominously written in blood. He reached gingerly forward to swing it open and inside, the walls oozed with blood – dripping downward leaving pools of red on the worn wooden floor.
Jones shook his head and as he came around, he quickly realized that both Phillips and Walters were staring point blank at him.
(ALL of this needs to be expanded. If you're writing for readers who totally love paranormal FBI investigations, you've got to do the paranormal parts justice ;) )
"What's wrong with you, Jones?" Phillips asked.
“I... I guess I was just stunned by these photos,” he replied rising slowly from his seat.
“Well get over it," Walters interrupted. "Sergeant Deloran will be meeting you two in Payson at 1 p.m. tomorrow.”
As he rose to leave, Jones breathed a heavy sigh of relief thinking Walters hadn't heard about the accident yet.
“Not so fast, Jones,” his boss added.
“Crap,” thought Jones. “He does know.”
(INTERNAL thoughts are never in quotation marks. They are either written with italics, or no quotations at all.)
“I want you to lead this investigation. It will be good experience for you.”
“Yes, sir,” Jones replied with relief and headed for the door.
Back home, Jeremy eased back into his lounger and flipped on the television. Running his fingers through his thick brown hair, he tried to relax but it had been a particularly difficult day. He hoped a couple of lagers would help take the edge off.
“I could have killed that kid,” he thought taking a gulp. “Phillips is upset too and I don’t even want to know what the boss will say when he finds out.”
(AGAIN, the thoughts need either to be italicized or the quotations left off.)
Overall, seems to be an interesting beginning! I think that if Stephens isn't a player in the rest of the story, he should be exchanged for another character who is--that way you tie up the beginning as being important in more ways than one.
I hope that my feedback has helped and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask!
Warmly,
Jenny:)
Private Reply to Jenny | | Jul 06, 2007 3:15 pm | | re: re: First Chapter of Blood Vengeance: Not of this World | # |
Martha Jette | | Thanks so much for all your suggestions. Private Reply to Martha Jette | | Jul 06, 2007 4:11 pm | | re: re: re: First Chapter of Blood Vengeance: Not of this World | # |
Jenny | | Glad I could help ;) If you have any questions about any of the comments/recommendations I made, please feel free to share. I'll do my best to explain ;)
Good luck with the book!!
Warmly,
Jenny:)Private Reply to Jenny | | |
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