Carson Layne's story

I don't know what possessed me to write this, it kind of just happened. These two police officers, Carson Layne (who has had something else tragic in his past) and Clark Fisher, work together. Then Carson's girlfriend, Becky, is murdered by a criminal he's been tracking. Later, he has a chance to bring her back to life through a magic/cult-type thing, but at the price of five other lives. He decides not to, but his choice still haunts him, and that's where this dialouge happens.

So yeah, it's just a kind-of story, but I wrote this scene and I figured I'd get some critques before I worked out the rest. Tell me if you like the idea or not. And does anyone know how to do italics on this thing?

“She’s dead, Clark. I accept that,” At 26, Carson Layne’s black hair had no sign of gray, but his eyes looked so much older than is face; they were haunted, green orbs that had already seen too much of death.

“You had a chance, Car. You had a chance to bring Becky back, and no matter what you say, I know you considered taking it.” Clark Fisher stared back at his friend, trying, as he had for years, to decipher the other man’s cryptic expression.

“It wasn’t worth the lives,” Carson snapped. “I’ll deal.” Then, quieter, “I always have, you can’t deny that.”

“But she was the only one who was more than a face to you,” Clark broke away from Carson’s gaze. “And you can’t deny that.”

“No I can’t. But one life is not worth five. And Becky would agree.”

“Not if she was the one alive and you were dead.”

“Stop it, Clark.” Carson trudged out the missing wall of the building. Beyond that lay his city, the grimy, ash-darkened row of stores that was Waller Street, once the most upscale lane of shops in Heller, New Jersey. Now it was just a slum. A stinking, smoking, slum.

Carson kicked a stone that lay by his foot. It skittered across the broken asphalt and stooped by the shoulder of a sleeping drunk. Beyond the street’s façade, the sun sank into the ground. Night approached.

Becky’s favorite time, he thought, remembering the summer evening just a month before when they’d met under an old oak in the city’s park at midnight, exactly. Remembering how they’d drawn so close, the stars acting as a magnet, pulling them closer. Remembering how, barely more than a week later, he’d seen her in a coffin. Becky… A tear came dangerously close to slipping out of his eye.

Impatiently, he brushed it away. He was Carson Layne, of Heller City P.D. He was invulnerable. There was no room for weakness or grief in his job. You got on with your life, and used your anger to fight the criminals that took away your life, your love. At least, he did.













EDIT: Full Version now up under Between Darkness and Dawn

This story has a lot of potential and could go quite a few places. But it needs to get on the road towards that place. This story could benefit from expounding quite a bit. Delve into your characters, explore their motivations, and you will go a long way towards making this more appealing to other readers. Being deliberately vague can only help you so much. In excess, it's detrimental. But as I said, this story does have a lot of potential. I look forward to a revision, and perhaps a continuation.

CK Lynn wrote:I don't know what possessed me to write this, it kind of just happened. These two police officers, Carson Layne (who has had something else tragic in his past) and Clark Fisher, work together. Then Carson's girlfriend, Becky, is murdered by a criminal he's been tracking. Later, he has a chance to bring her back to life through a magic/cult-type thing, but at the price of five other lives. He decides not to, but his choice still haunts him, and that's where this dialouge happens.

So yeah, it's just a kind-of story, but I wrote this scene and I figured I'd get some critques before I worked out the rest. Tell me if you like the idea or not. And does anyone know how to do italics on this thing?

“She’s dead, Clark. I accept that for some reason this sounds kind of awkward,” At 26, Carson Layne’s black hair had no sign of gray, but his eyes looked so much older than is face; they were haunted, green orbs that had already seen too much of death-- this is a very long sentence. Try to split up his description into seperate ideas.

“You had a chance, Car. You had a chance to bring Becky back, and no matter what you say, I know you considered taking it.” Clark Fisher stared back at his friend, trying, as he had for years, to decipher the other man’s cryptic expression.

“It wasn’t worth the lives,” Carson snapped. “I’ll deal.” Then, quieter-- instead maybe say: His voice dropped to a whisper, “I always have, you can’t deny that.”

“But she was the only one who was more than a face to you,” Clark broke away from Carson’s gaze. “And you can’t deny that.”

“No I can’t. But one life is not worth five. And Becky would agree.”

“Not if she was the one alive and you were dead.”

“Stop it, Clark.” Carson trudged out the missing wall of the building I think you mean trudged out of. Beyond that lay his city, the grimy, ash-darkened row of stores that was Waller Street, once the most upscale lane of shops in Heller, New Jersey. Now it was just a slum. A stinking, smoking, slum.

Carson kicked a stone that lay by his foot. It skittered across the broken asphalt and stooped by the shoulder of a sleeping drunk. Beyond the street’s façade, the sun sank into the ground. Night approached.
-- put more description here. Describe the sunset.
Becky’s favorite time, he thought, remembering the summer evening just a month before when they’d met under an old oak in the city’s park at midnight, exactly. Remembering how they’d drawn so close, the stars acting as a magnet, pulling them closer-- this is kind of an awkward sentence. The imagery is beautiful but I think you need to reword it to make it less awkward. Remembering how, barely more than a week later, he’d seen her in a coffin. Becky… A tear came dangerously close to slipping out of his eye.

Impatiently, he brushed it away. He was Carson Layne, of Heller City P.D. He was invulnerable. There was no room for weakness or grief in his job. You got on with your life, and used your anger to fight the criminals that took away your life, your love. At least, he did.

-- I really loved this piece! It was short so I definitley recommend continuing it. Just a couple notes.
1) Watch out for your runon sentences. They can sometimes confuse the readers.
2) Two names beginning with a C kind of confused me. I recommend changing one of their names but that again is a stylistic decision.

Other than that awesome job! Keep up the good work!

Yeah, I had reservations about the double-C's, but those were just the names I thought of. Which one should I change, do you think? Clark Fisher or Carson Layne?

P.S. Anyone have a better title idea? I changed it from Vengence to Choices, but I'm not sure.

This was fantastic. You have the voice of a really hard-boiled police procedural writer. The dialogue is good, and feels authentic, which is the most important thing. You don't have the characters talk about feelings, or pour their hearts out like only fictional characters do. They speak with awkwardness about someone that's dead, and you can really tell how Carson really doesn't want to talk about.

And I'm not used to this, but I must really protest to some of the changes an earlier review suggested:

At 26, Carson Layne’s black hair had no sign of gray, but his eyes looked so much older than is face; they were haunted, green orbs that had already seen too much of death-- is a fantastic description. Don't change it. Separating into different sentences might make it too long, and whenever a text lingers too much on it, it bores the reader and makes it lose focus on the feelings and emotions. The only thing that I would even think about changing is the word "death" that sounds a bit cheesy. Maybe something else? Or "had already lost too much". OK. That sounds dreadful, but something else. Again, though, it doesn't bother me that much.

Also: Then, quieter-- sentences like these between dialogue work great because they keep the flow going. It let's the reader really... read the dialogue as someone would actually say it. Describing the words makes the dialogue feel unauthentic.

The "At least, he did" is great.

Wait. I just read the magic/cult thingy thing. Oh. That kinda ruins the whole story for me. I thought it was like, a criminal was holding hostage six people, one of whom was Becky, and he gave him a choice. I don't know... the magic thing seems out of place with the way you tell the story, but still it could work, if you keep it gritty and real. Yeah. But... I just burst out laughing when I read it.

Anyways, it's still a great little piece.

Hmmm. Yeah, I just needed some way to tie in this scene, and magic jumped to mind (usually, I write fantasy/sci-fi). But I can see your point.

So: updated synopsis.

A bank robber/other type of criminal was holding Becky, two men and three other women. Carson and Clark (any suggestions for a name change on him?) were sent to stop him. The criminal was either going to kill Becky or the other 5, and Carson (Clark was shot) only had enough time to save one group.

Much better.
Thanks!

No, I mean, you don't have to change it just 'cause I said so. What the hell do I know about good stories? Seriously, if you wanted to write a fantastic story do so.

No, really, I actually like it. The magic thing was very tentative.

Updated and Revised version!

“She’s dead, Clark. I accept that,” At 26, Carson Layne’s black hair had no sign of gray, but his eyes were so much older than is face. They were haunted, deep green orbs that had already seen more than anyone should.

“You had a chance, Car. You had a chance to save Becky, and no matter what you say, I know you considered taking it.” Clark Fisher stared back at his friend, trying, as he had for years, to decipher the other man’s cryptically blank expression.

“It wasn’t worth the lives,” Carson snapped emotion breaking through for a moment. “I’ll deal.” Then, quieter, “I always have, you can’t deny that.”

“But she was the only one who was more than a face to you,” Clark broke away from Carson’s soul-splitting gaze. “And you can’t deny that.”

“No I can’t. But one life is not worth five. And Becky would agree.”

“Not if she was the one alive and you were dead.”

“Stop it, Clark. You can’t understand,” Carson trudged out the missing wall of the building. Beyond that lay his city, and the grimy, ash-darkened row of stores that was Waller Street, once the most upscale lane of shops in New Haven, Colorado. Now it was just a slum. A stinking, smoking, slum.

Carson kicked a stone that lay by his foot. It skittered across the broken asphalt and stooped by the shoulder of a sleeping drunk. Beyond the street’s façade, the sun sank into the ground, casting shadows over the street. The orange-reddish tint of the sky reminded most people of autumn leaves. It looked to Carson like the fire from an exploded gas tank. He’d seen enough of them to know the color. Twilight approached, harbinger of night.

Becky’s favorite time, he thought, remembering the summer evening just a month before when they’d met under an old oak in the city’s park at midnight, exactly. Remembering how they’d drawn so close, the stars acting as a magnet, pulling them closer. Remembering how, barely more than a week later, he’d seen her in a coffin. Becky… A tear came dangerously close to slipping out of his eye.

Impatiently he brushed it away, pulling himself together. He was Carson Layne, of Heller City P.D. He was invulnerable. It was his fault he’d gotten hurt. He should know enough to not let himself get close. There was no room for weakness or grief in his job. You got on with your life, and used your anger to fight the criminals that took away your life, your love. That’s the way he did it, at least.

“She’s dead, Clark. I accept that,” At 26, Carson Layne’s black hair had no sign of gray, but his eyes were so much older than is face. They were haunted, deep green orbs that had already seen more than anyone should.

YAY! I love this as an opening sentence! Really draws the reader in

“It wasn’t worth the lives,” Carson snapped [s]emotion breaking through for a moment.[/s]

Clark broke away from Carson’s soul-splitting gaze

Instead say, Clark averted his eyes from Carson's soul-splitting gaze.

You can’t understand

Maybe instead of can't say wouldn't

It skittered across the broken asphalt and stooped by the shoulder of a sleeping drunk.

-- stopped instead of stooped.

Beyond the street’s façade

-- maybe instead of facade say brick walls or something.

OMG!!! THIS IS AMAZING!!! REALLY, GREAT JOB!. THis definitley improved a lot from your previous post!!!! I loved the way you balanced dialogue with action. Even if I was reading this story for the first time I would be able to understand everything. And you were able to keep a good amount of suspense in it to keep the audience engaged! I would love to read the rest of this!
Again, great job! Keep up the good work!

Also: Name suggestions: Maybe Mark or Mike or Pat. I don't know, just a few ideas. I suggest you keep your main character's name (Clark) because it seemed to fit very well with his character.

Okay, this "Choice" title is not working. So:

Which one do you like best:

A. Between Darkness and Dawn

B. Vengence

C. Choice ( is there anyone who actualy likes this?)

D. Carson Layne's story (if you don't like the others)

Title changed to Carson Layne's story. Title suggestions PLEASE!

I liked Choices better.

For anyone interested: I'm working on the novel version, firt chaptershould be posted in Advanced Crits soon.

Okay, I agree with the posters above me, this is good, and has potential. I only have a few nitpicky things to say.

Becky’s favorite time, he thought, remembering the summer evening just a month before when they’d met under an old oak in the city’s park at midnight, exactly.

I was confused. What time of day?

Also, you forget a comma, I think

“No I can’t.

I felt like there needed to be a comma between 'no' and 'I.'

I liked the fact that you started with an engaging conversation.
I like your description of the city.

There really isn't much more for me to say, unfortunately. Everyone else has said everything, and it is very good.