None

[sweety]

Part of a story I'm writing not finished yet,


Frank Duvet entered the bar carrying a violin case. “At last!” he said, placing the case on the table.

Turning to Willy Punster he pointed his cigarette stained finger at him and asked him for the key. “Leave us alone Frank!” said Floe Freya .

Bad memory's from the past were flooding into Floret's mind and the cloud of smoke from Frank's cigarette reminded her of how evil he was .

The key was for a safety box that held the money from the bank job earlier on in the week that the gang pulled.

Members of the gang were Willy Punster, Floe Freya, Snakeroot Riot, Philip Gray and Frank Duvet.

Fear was mounting now, because the shot-gun he was pointing at them came out of nowhere. Both barrels were aimed at the group.
”I'll ask one more time”, he said.

But Floret managed to pull the gun away from Frank and threw it to Willy Punster.

Frank grabbed the violin case and took out the semi automatic pistol he had hidden there.

Floret ducked under the table when the shooting started, but Frank's steeled-toed-boot hit her in the head and she passed out.

When she came out of a coma, a month later, the doctors told her she was lucky to be alive and asked her if she could remember what happened.

Floret shook her head. “I don't remember anything.”

"Well don't worry, it will return in time. Do you have any questions?”
“I”.... then she fell asleep.

Chief inspector Kesteven asked the doctor if he could speak to Floret.

“I'm afraid it won't do you any good, Chief inspector, not until her memory returns”.

A week later she was leaving the hospital in Brighton, her memory intact and running to catch the nine am. to London.

It was about to leave, however the guard saw Floret come on to the platform and waved for her to hurry.

”Not a minute to late young lady” and blew his whistle.

Boarding the train she thanked him, a little out of breath; the swaying of the train playing with her as she made his way along the corridor.

She was enjoying the roar and motion of the train and humming to the rhythm of its great iron wheels.

Going into the first carriage that had a vacant seat she threw her bag on the overhead rack and sat next to a handsome young man dressed in black.

“You lose someone, honey?” she asked, “sometimes it helps to talk about it.”

Bill Blasé saw her looking at his suit and started laughing. “I'm afraid black is my favourite colour, the name is Bill.”

“Hi Bill, mine is Floret.” There was no mistaken the toying in her voice.

“Are you always so forward with strangers?" he asked.

“Well, I must admit I was a bit of a tomboy growing up. And what takes you to London Bill.”

“I live there. I was in Brighton for a job interview.”

“Did you get it?"

“No, I'm afraid not.”

"Tell me Bill”, asked Floret ."How would one go about finding someone in London?"

“Well, a private detective agency might be the best bet.”

“Do you know London well?" she asked.

"Yes", he said.

“Well then, why don't I hire you”.

“You mean it.”

“Of course” she said.

“When do I start?”

“How about now.”

“Who do you want to find?" he asked eagerly.

“I'm looking for an old friend of mine. Goes by the name of Frank Duvet.” :blush:

[hillwalker]

Oo-er.

So much happening in so few sentences. And all those characters' names to remember.

The plot is ok but the way you construct the story needs looking at again.

For example, throwing in vital background detail like The key was for a safety box that held the money from the bank job earlier on in the week that the gang pulled is very lazy storytelling. The reader is not even aware that the characters are bank robbers or that there is some dirty dealing afoot until you throw in this line. That's not the way stories are meant to be written.

Secondly, the appearance of a shotgun and a semi-automatic pistol and who did what and when is really difficult to keep up with. I felt I needed accompanying pictures to track the action.

Then these sentences When she came out of a coma, a month later, the doctors told her she was lucky to be alive and asked her if she could remember what happened. followed shortly by A week later she was leaving the hospital in Brighton, her memory intact and running to catch the nine am to London. are taking shorthand to new levels of absurdity. You were obviously in a hell of a hurry to get this bit of the story out of the way!

What you have written is just a list of events happening to people with quirky names written in the order they happen with no sense of interconnection or plot development. There's no description worth talking about, no tension whatsoever, no flow to the story nor character development.

The best part is the dialogue (even though the scene in the railway carriage is totally unbelieveable).

I suggest you read a few short stories to get a feel for how writers handle plot. This piece might be a start (as a storyboard perhaps) but it needs a lot more work before it can be considered a stand-alone story.

H