Bang

[Kerdersty]

I ducked under the yellow "Do Not Cross" tape and entered into the mudroom of the suburban house. Worn boots and running shoes laid strewn across the linoleum floor. Black scuff marks were scraped along each tile like some bull**** painting you'd find in a small-town art gallery filed under the category "Emotional Abstract", or something like that. The forensics team had already finished their work. My job was to clean up this god-awful mess. I reluctantly walked into the next room, which I gathered from the large assortment of stainless steal knives and the pile of dirty plates in the sink, was the kitchen. I had yet to find my "client". Although I had done this many times before, I had never been able to shake the initial shock that seeing a disassembled body gives me. I passed quickly through the kitchen and into what appeared to be the dining room.
There she was. The body of a hefty male was sitting slumped in a chair at the head of the table. He was wearing light khakis, a pair of gray and white tube-socks and a short-sleeved blue and white plaid button-up shirt, most of which was splattered in bright red. The less concentrated splatters had started to dry and were slowly turning a dark burgundy. Above his collar was nothing. All that had been his head was painted on the cream-colored drywall behind him. At his side laid a double-barreled shotgun. Goddammit, why do they have to shoot themselves? My last two cleanup jobs had been a hang-man and a 32-year-old shut-in who apparently had had one hell of a headache. I was looking for a hat-trick but I guess luck had evaded me. "Is this everything?" I asked the nearest police officer.
"Looks like it. Thankfully the family that owns this house was attending church at the time. This ****'ll scar you for life."
"Hold on. Are you telling me this isn't his house?" I pointed to the remains of what used to him.
"That's what I'm tellin' yuh."
"Wow... what an *******."
"Oh yah! It's gonna be one helluva carpet-cleaning bill. Not to mention the time it'll take you to collect all the brain matter and skull fragments from off the, uh... well... the carpet."
"****in' *******."
"But hey!" he said as he tossed up his hands, and turned to look at me "At least he was able to get what we all want."
"Uh, what we all want? I'm sorry, maybe I've been too much of a hermit lately, but what is it that we all want?"
He turned back to the body, "To go out with a bang!".

[hillwalker]

An intriguing first post, although you're treading a well-worn path. The sparse style works well enough - touches of pulp fiction - with a smart-mouthed narrator. But the punch-line was hardly worth all the effort you put into building the scene. And I couldn't quite work out whether the narrator was a detective or a contract cleaner employed to refurbish homes after a grisly murder/suicide has been committed.
Perhaps you could change the title to make it a little clearer - 'The Cleaner' for instance.

There are a few stylistic issues you might care to address for future reference if you intend writing more of this stuff.

I ducked under the yellow "Do Not Cross" tape and entered into the verb entered implies going into something so we usually don't need this preposition the mudroom of the suburban house. Worn boots and running shoes laid I assume you meant 'lay' - 'laid' is the past tense of the verb to 'lay' as in 'lay something down' - 'lay' is the past tense of the verb 'lie' as in 'lie down' - there is a difference strewn across the linoleum floor. Black scuff marks were scraped along each tile like some bull**** painting you'd find in a small-town art gallery filed under the category "Emotional Abstract", or something like that No need for this rider - it weakens the effectiveness of the description. The forensics team had already finished their work. My job was to clean up this god-awful Again this dilutes the impact - lose it mess. I reluctantly walked into the next room, which I gathered from the large assortment of stainless steal knives and the pile of dirty plates in the sink, was the kitchen. I had yet to find my "client". Although I had done this many times before, I had never been able to shake the initial shock that seeing a disassembled body gives me. I passed quickly through the kitchen and into what appeared to be the dining room.

There she This confused me - it's a guy. was. The body of a hefty male was sitting slumped in a chair at the head of the table. He was wearing light khakis, a pair of gray and white tube-socks and a short-sleeved blue and white plaid button-up shirt, most of which was splattered in bright red. The less concentrated splatters had started to dry and were slowly turning a dark burgundy. Above his collar was nothing. All that had been his head was painted on the cream-colored drywall behind him. At his side laid lay a double-barreled shotgun. Goddammit, Weakening the impact again why do they have to shoot themselves? My last two cleanup jobs had been a hang-man and a 32-year-old shut-in who apparently had had one hell of a headache meaning what - an overdose of aspirin? we need more info. I was looking for a hat-trick but I guess luck had evaded me. "Is this everything?" I asked the nearest police officer.

"Looks like it. Thankfully the family that owns this house was attending church at the time. This ****'ll scar you for life. pointless remark"
"Hold on. Are you telling me this isn't his house?" I pointed to the remains of what used to him.
"That's what I'm tellin' yuh."
"Wow... what an *******."
"Oh yah! It's gonna be one helluva carpet-cleaning bill. Not to mention the time it'll take you to collect all the brain matter and skull fragments from off the, uh... well... the carpet."
"****in' *******."
"But hey!" he said as he tossed up his hands, and turned to look at me "At least he was able to get what we all want."
"Uh, what we all want? I'm sorry, maybe I've been too much of a hermit lately, This doesn't work particularly well for me but what is it that we all want?"
He turned back to the body, "To go out with a bang!".

Also - it helps if you put some white space between each paragraph to make reading on-screen a little easier.

H

[Kerdersty]

Thanks for the tips. It was really just a spur of the moment little story. I realize this has been done many times, I just wanted to try my hand at it. I've always wanted to write, I just never know where to start.

Due to it's spontaneity I did fail to make some things clear. Although, in saying that I kind of like reading things and having to figure it out a bit. It makes for quite a different personal response from each person who reads it, cause of the need to fill in stories that the narrator fails to make clear, with their own thought on what may have happened. Unless of course it's a major plot detail. As for the whole, "There she was" thing, I kind of thought of the narrator referring to a dead body as more of an inanimate object rather than the human that it was. Much like how people with associate genders to things like cars, paintings, etc. Anything really. Also, in conversation I don't believe you can have pointless remarks. I mean, I've been reading Catch 22, and I really like how there is so much pointless banter etc. between the characters. It's just the way people talk in real life. I just tend to find it more interesting than if someone just sticks to the way people SHOULD say things, and not the way people DO say things.

Although, like I said, I'm very new to writing, this being my first short story - if you can even call it that. And I may be horribly wrong in everything I say. Again, I really appreciate your input. Thanks a lot, buddy :)

[AuntShecky]

Skip a sentence between paragraphs. Within dialogue, a change in speaker also requires a new paragraph.

Don't write anything unless you are reasonably sure that the subject and its
expression are brand-new. The world doesn't need another cliché-ridden crime story. Not only that, stop writing (for a little while) and start reading.

Start building up a working vocabulary full of vivid nouns, strong verbs, and expressive analogies so you won't have to rely on wishy-washy qualifiers and modifiers. An occasional expletive is
okay here and there (though not on the LitNet!), but sprinkling in strings of asterisks doesn't
show anything except a lack of word power.


Brush up on basic grammar and punctuation in order to avoid common yet irritating pitfalls such as typing "it's" when you mean "its" and vice versa.

Here's some more cheap advice which I've often dumped upon unsuspecting
LitNetters. Feel free to read it if you're so inclined:
As a beginning writer, you should spend more time reading rather than writing-- not that you shouldn't engage in both activities, but at this point you might want to start learning the craft. Fill up that mental database.

Read a copious amount of various short stories, especially those written
during the last and current centuries. (I'm willing to bet that the nice folks at your local library will be happy to help you find some good anthologies. Right here on the Literature Network Forums there is a substantial number of classic stories in the public domain from which you can learn and also enjoy for their own sake.)

While you're reading ask yourself not only what the story is about but also how the writer presents the work. See if you can figure out what works and what doesn't work, how character, setting, plot work together in subtle ways, and how the author follows (or breaks) the Cardinal Rule of Fiction Writing: "Show, Don't Tell."

Here are some links:

You'll Know I'll Stop Reading Your Short Stories When. . .:

http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=41000&highlight=Stop+Reading+Short+Stories

Show Don’t Tell Redux:
http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=67728

Down and Dirty Guide to Punctuation:
http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=56601&highlight=Dirty+Guide+Punctuation

new

[Kerdersty]

Yah, I appreciate your input and all, but I'm not really looking to be the next big up and coming writer. Like I said in my previous post, it was spur of the moment and I just thought I'd try my hand.