Zero Hour

[-Ellipsis-]

Chapter One


The cigarette smoke filled his black hard lungs after each long and dramatic drag. His blood shot eyes squinted as he exhaled

and walked through the crime filled streets of San Tiegrra; a city that government officials considered an uncivilized lost cause of

the year 2047. The street lamps were either shot out by locals or neglected by city maintenance. It didn't matter though; with the

drug wars devouring this now atrocious city, houses and buildings were set a blaze all around the city and illuminated Micks path.

With every step of his left foot, Mick noticed a sharp noise scratching and irritating his ears. He stopped, lifted his foot, and plucked

a used syringe from the bottom of his boot. “Was this from the streets or my spot?” he asked himself. “**** it” he murmured and

shrugged his shoulders “I could always use more needles.” and put the bloody needle into his jacket pocket. To regain his balance he

reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a handful of white powder. The cocaine sparkled in his hand as he lifted the powder up

and shoved it to his face.



As hard as Mick tried, he couldn't remember the last time he was ever sober or even happy. As a matter of fact he couldn't

recall anything of his past except the last three years, when he was sporadically awoken by paramedics throwing him out of a

moving ambulance. Left to wallow in his incoherent daze and pain that pounded his head, he tried to make sense of his life but was

unsuccessful. Since then without a name or a history, he named himself after finding a stuffed animal that resembled a mouse who

wore red shorts and yellow shoes. The years following this incident he rambled the streets of San Tiegrra and retained an addiction

to drugs, sex, and alcohol. Now filled with unbelievable amounts of cigarettes, scotch, heroine, and cocaine; Mick was ready for a

late dinner.


“The broken John” was one of the few bar and grills that was still in business; always filled with the lowest of scum from the

streets. From drug dealers to hired hit-men. From strippers and prostitutes to pimps and kingpins. Trouble lingered around every

lowlife in the bar. John the toad was the owner and kept a plethora of guns and ammunition on his person for an expected quarrel

that averaged two a night. Mick, dressed in tired brown boots, blue jeans, black shirt and black jacket; walked in and slammed the

door. Without looking anybody in the eyes, he lit a cigarette and proceeded to the bar. He sat down while humming along to James

Browns “Try me” that played out on the radio behind the bar. As he sat down he tried to get as comfortable as he could before

calling John the toad over “Hey barkeep, I need a steak samich!” he yammered “hold your horses **** breath! Cant you see Imo

busy?” Mick didn't mind. He saw this wait as an opportunity to regain his balance once again. So he pulled out what he had left of

his cocaine and threw it on the counter. While looking at the contents he pulled out a ten dollar bill, rolled it up, then began to sniff

up the remaining cocaine mixed with lint from his pocket. “you ****en animal!” John the toad yelled. Mick looked up quickly at the

commotion and met a double barreled shot gun pointing at his face. “theirs a huge ****en sign in the front that reads, DO YOUR

NOSE CANDY ELSEWHERE!” Before John the toads big green eyes could blink; Mick knocked the shot gun from his hands, grabbed his

tie and pulled until John the toads adams apple was a half inch from a sharp blade that Mick carried for instances such as this one.

They stood there without movement for what seemed like an eternity. Nobody said a word. The heavy panic of John the toads breath

and the radio is all that made a sound. Calmly Mick reiterated “All I want is a steak samich. Are you going to hassle me or gimme a

****en steak samich?” as John the toad began to plea for his life, Mick lost his attention on the squirming little toad and focused it

elsewhere. “The radio” Mick thought to himself; “this song sounds familiar!” he listened closer as the man sang “you got a smile so

bright; you know you could have been a candle” An instant picture of a pretty young lady and a cute innocent girl came to mind. As

confused as he was, he snapped back to the confrontation with John the toad. “I wasn't trying to hassle you fella, I'll make you your

steak sandwich!” again a flashback of the young lady and little girl singing to the song playing on the radio broke his attention. This

time the flashback lasted longer.


The lady seemed familiar but unrecognizable. She sang loud before giving Mick a kiss on the lips. The little girl had a

stuffed animal that she carried around all the time; it was in fact the same stuffed animal Mick named himself after. All of this was

familiar but Mick could not comprehend what he was seeing. “I'm holding you so tight; you know you could've been a handle” the

man on the radio sang with love in his heart. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. A wave of memories flooded his mind and he

remembered everything. He broke out in tears and let John the toad go. He grabbed the shot gun and ran out with one thing on his

mind. Retribution.

[MystyrMystyry]

First - why is it 2047? And why a shotgun instead of an atomic plasmablaster?

This alcohol and drug reference - is it to sound edgy and modern? Because intelligent people who read know that they're just poisons, and in the real world the people who abuse them tend to be negatively interesting (not simply boring, but requiring far more effort than they're worth). If it's 2047 why not just invent a new phantasmagoric drug/gene splicing/electronic brain implant?

Also, you obviously put a lot of effort into writing it, why not skip the impatience to finish it cheaply, and give it a thorough analytical rewrite: every phrase that sounds like a cliche is a cliche and reads like a cliche, and it comes over as sloppy. You know it's a cliche, so dance around with it until it becomes a mere reference to the cliche or - even better - an entirely new clever expression.

I understand you're new to this creative writing lark and you really harbour a desire to learn, so let me indulge in a little hypercritical analysis for the benefit of others as well.

Do you want to be published? Because your words will go through a bastard called an Editor whom you will frequently come to call Bastard. He shall be armed with nothing more pointy than a blue pencil with which he will scratch inarticulate blue markings all over you're precious half-baked prose, and he will continue to do this until you learn what he expects. (That little lesson should save you about a thousand dull hours and quite a few dollars)

He will demand that the tale you tell has a definite theme, at least one definite character, a definite moving-forward purpose, and a definite ending. He will demand this because he is also a reader, and readers demand these things.

Having a distinct setting is essential in a short because the reader's imagination can fill in the details you merely need to sketch in, too much purple and unnecessary verbosity tires the reader who has read bazillions of words in their lifetime.

Also there seems a lot that's intended as mere shock value. I can pick up a newspaper (any day) and find a true story more diabolical and tension fueled than what I read above.

If it's a hardboiled effect you're after, know it, and read some Chandler or the other masters of the genre.

Why write a wishy washy character that doesn't know his own mind, has loose random motivation, and in fact is someone you wouldn't want to waste any time with.

An anti-hero still has to have some identifying charm.

I apologise for seeming to diss this but I'll still give you a B+ for effort, A B for attempting something different, a C+ for creating an atmosphere, a C average for including a 'known' (but arbitrary) popsong to assist mood, a D+ for a cheesy Disney reference when a Looneytoons would have been more appropriate, a D for too much unclever boring swearing (try to be smart with it - real world swearing for the sake of it has absolutely no impact. Make up your own swear words even, it can be fun: 'What the ghisltining pozzobblituft!' and draws the reader in insead of repulsing them.

Jabber the Hut, Mack the Knife, Zongo the Magnificent - even if he is a semi amphibious sub order of the species, he's John the Toad.

Finally, what are you writing on? Do you have access to a spell checker or thesaurus? Get one and save yourself even more time.

Incidentally - A++ for the name and opening description of San Tiegrra - from that point anything can happen - as it does, but maybe moreso? And beyond just a newsclipping of events.

You might say 'but I intended the main character to be like that. You can't tell me to rewrite him...'
I'm telling you to flesh him out and 'give' him some character. A deadbeat might work in a movie, but only because there's a ton of other things to look at and listen to as he struggles in his quest for identity.

With a short you've got limited time to create the person who carries the yarn, it can be done with thought out details that refer to other parts of the story and a larger reality, but yes it takes abit of practice.

Also keep notes of exactly what you want to include in the story, wordplay, images, descriptions, metaphors etc so when you come to write it it's a big slice of easy.

Which leads me to: Full marks for enjoying youself and accomplishing something most shall never achieve!

[hillwalker]

Ok – I read this (much as I hate amateur science fiction fantasy stories). Why did I read it? Because MystyrMystyry’s feedback was so detailed I had to see for myself what had motivated his response – so when you get a chance, thank the man. Everything he says is spot on.

What did I think of the story?

Well, a couple of things come to mind.

You are perhaps trying too hard to impress by describing every single thing – look at that opening

The cigarette smoke filled his black hard lungs after each long and dramatic drag. His blood shot eyes squinted as he exhaled and walked through the crime filled streets of San Tiegrra; a city that government officials considered an uncivilized lost cause of the year 2047.

The writer isn’t expected to label everything. Most readers can fill in some of the blanks. Descriptions are meant to add something to the narrative – not hold it up.

It would read just as effectively if you wrote

The cigarette smoke filled his black hard lungs after each drag. His eyes squinted as he exhaled and walked through the streets of San Tiegrra; a city that government officials of 2047 considered a lost cause.

I was also bemused that in such a hell-hole they still have street lamps. Do they also have litter bins and phone booths???

Then we have the rather unbelievable scenario of someone walking around with a syringe stuck to the bottom of their shoe. And the follow-up – pocketing an used needle for personal use, and snarfing coke in the street. This guy is sooooo bad.
Or not, if you want my honest opinion.
He’s a cartoon representation of what middle-class people consider bad. And 37 years from now, for all you know coke could be legalized. So you’re missing a trick or two for a story set some way in the future.

I actually liked the Mickey Mouse reference – leave it in.

But then that excruciating line

Now filled with unbelievable amounts of cigarettes, scotch, heroine, and cocaine; Mick was ready for a late dinner.

‘unbelievable’ says it all.

Glamorising a character through his prodigious appetite for banned substances (as well as sex and rock and roll) has to be handled subtly – not advertising his vices in neon lights the way you do here. It’s like a kid’s game – let’s see who can say the naughtiest word. Such bravado has the opposite effect to what you intended – just plain silly rather than ‘on the edge’.

Then we have the stereotypical bar scene – as written by a Bible belt minister who knows the end is nigh. What the hell were you thinking? This is nothing but a recycled mishmash of bar room brawls as old as the Wild West. It’s as if you drew up a list of all the low life losers you could think of, as well as every cliché known to man, and decided to have them all under one roof.

And all this ‘action’ for a steak sandwich. Laughable.

Naming the bar ‘The Broken John’ and the barkeep ‘John the Toad’ wasn’t particularly original either. Not much irony on show - another trick missed. It’s generally a rule that bars with the noblest sounding names have the lowest form of clientele. ‘The Muddy Puddle’ is usually filled with the cocktail brigade while the heavy drinkers frequent the ‘Marlborough’ or the 'Westchester'.

The story only becomes remotely interesting when we gain some insight into Mickey’s thought processes. Suddenly he is transformed from a crude cartoon figure into someone who might be composed of flesh and bone and brain matter after all.

My advice would be to read a lot more to gain some understanding of plot and character development, of how to control pace and create tension. And forget everything you have ever seen in cheap Hollywood movies or comics if you want to write a story about a real person.

You obviously had fun doing this, and I’m glad you had the balls to post it. It could be the best thing you ever did if you take on board some of MM’s advice – good luck.

H

[-Ellipsis-]

im glad i take criticism quite well. i completely lost inhibition when writing this one. i think im in the phase of writing really over the top story lines and yes, i have a lot of fun writing these kinds of stories. i agree with the "too much purple and unnecessary verbosity" i will try to reframe from that... i love the mickey mouse reference and will leave it in there. it was supposed to be more like a movie i guess... thanks for your words.

[-Ellipsis-]

sorry MM but could you elaborate on why i would need a spell checker or thesaurus? i do have both and didn't see why you'd advise me to get one. maybe i missed something?

[MystyrMystyry]

Oh, two things. I meant why pick the Mouse who is not known for mischeivous behaviour, when you could have picked Yosemite Sam for his guntotin' old wildwest ways, or D Duck who who is a complete and utter nutter, or Marvin the Martian who wants to blow up Earth, or something. It's just that you made two references to pop culture - both comparatively gentle for the hard-edged scene you were conveying. Two gentle references for contrast - you only need one. The popsong therefore should be at least Innagadadavida or something heavy. (I feel this in my bones)

The spellchecker/thesaurus suggestion was just that I often find I've used a word too close to another one in describing a scene or characer- because I like both of the words it doesn't occur to me that I've basicly said the same thing twice (often in a single paragraph, sometimes in two consecutive sentences).

Excption: There's a story by J.L.Borges (can't remember it's name, its in El Aleph), where the main chracter is an assassin/gangster and his name is Scarletto or something. Anyway the street names are all Crimson Rd and Red Crescent, and everything is red red red. If you ask around someone might post it though I don't know what the copywrite is


Anyway, Mr Elipsis! Keep on writing!


p.s. the cliche I was referring to in particular was 'It hit him like a ton of bricks'. That's sort of funny when you hear it in a lecture, or when someone pompous drops it in conversation, but it's as meaningless as 'he ran like the clappers.' It may as well have hit him like a ton of feathers - they both weigh the same...

[MystyrMystyry]

Oh, two things. I meant why pick the Mouse who is not known for mischeivous behaviour, when you could have picked Yosemite Sam for his guntotin' old wildwest ways, or D Duck who who is a complete and utter nutter, or Marvin the Martian who wants to blow up Earth, or something. It's just that you made two references to pop culture - both comparatively gentle for the hard-edged scene you were conveying. Two gentle references for contrast - you only need one. The popsong therefore should be at least Innagadadavida or something heavy. (I feel this in my bones)

The spellchecker/thesaurus suggestion was just that I often find I've used a word too close to another one in describing a scene or characer- because I like both of the words it doesn't occur to me that I've basicly said the same thing twice (often in a single paragraph, sometimes in two consecutive sentences).

Excption: There's a story by J.L.Borges (can't remember it's name, its in El Aleph), where the main chracter is an assassin/gangster and his name is Scarletto or something. Anyway the street names are all Crimson Rd and Red Crescent, and everything is red red red. If you ask around someone might post it though I don't know what the copywrite is


Anyway, Mr Elipsis! Keep on writing!


p.s. the cliche I was referring to in particular was 'It hit him like a ton of bricks'. That's sort of funny when you hear it in a lecture, or when someone pompous drops it in conversation, but it's as meaningless as 'he ran like the clappers.' It may as well have hit him like a ton of feathers - they both weigh the same...

[MystyrMystyry]

Sorry to double post back then - I keep getting booted.

But anyway I just remembered!

The Song of Phaid the Gambler, and the Quest of the DNA Cowboys.

Both by Mick Farren, and both extremely good


You might want to also try the Accomplice series (Steve Aylett - he's a synaesthetic who envisages his novels in one hit. They have people with brains on the outside of their heads, and generally lots of ideas sort of similar to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, but of course completely different.

[hillwalker]

Hi again - I'm also glad you "take criticism quite well". We mean well as I'm sure you know.

Good luck - and keep posting,

H