The America Project

This is an incomplete story, obviously. However i'm working out some plot plausibility things currently, so this is all i can give you. cheers.
Alyce

It is late in November of ‘63 on the planet Earth.
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The winter wind snaps at my heels, motivating me to go just a little bit faster. What happened? It was sunny and bright just yesterday. I hunker down and sprint to the diner.
I open the door, and instead of the usual chaos of the jukebox playing, orders being called, and regulars shouting to be heard, there is only the sound of the news broadcast, and Lucille softly sobbing behind the counter.
“What happened?” I ask as I take a seat. Nancy, the head waitress, sends me a look of complete contempt. “What happened?” she screeches, cigarrette still clenched between her lips. “Kennedy got shot! What the Hell else do you think happened?”
Oh God. The Kennedy dabacle. I didn’t realize it would be all over the news like this. Luckily, my waredrobe is comprised mainly of black clothing, so I look the part. “I...I just thought that maybe there’d been an update, since you had the news on and all.”
Nancy narrows her eyes, but she’s got no reason not to believe me. She thinks I’m an imbesule, anyway, so fine. Let this feed her loathing.
Doris, who is both cook and owner, turns a kind, if wet eye on me. She doesn’t dislike me, she just feels sorry for me. Which is almost worse, somehow. “They think they found the man who did it,” she says. I suck in my breath. “What...how...They did?” I squeak out. Rick, Doris’ husband, nods. “Won’t release the fellas name yet, but apparently he’s one of them SPOOKS.”
I can feel the blood drain away from my face, and evidently everyone else can see it. “Honey, you want a glass of water?” Doris asks. I nod yes, very slowly. “Lucy, get the girl a glass of water.” Doris says to her daughter, who turns and fills me up a glass, stil crying. “Don’t know what you’re carryin’ on about, girl,” Rick says to her. “Not like you ever gave a rat’s ass before.” “Patrick Malone! Miss Leah is shaken up enough as it is, she don’t need you using foul language in front of her.” Doris hisses at him. She shoots me a sympathetic look, and I study my hands and mumble something strong emotions. I sip at my water, and say weakly “I think I’ll head upstairs, if you don’t mind. I’d like to... lie down for a little while, I think.” Doris smiles kindly and Lucy takes my glass. “You go take a load off, sugar, we’re fine down here... Kind of a slow afternoon, as to be expected.” I smile faintly and give a tiny little wave to everyone before I head to my apartment. Doris hollers up behind me “And remember, we’ve got those canned goods for you to to take to Father Flannigan!”
Once inside, I collapse against my wall. Canned goods for Father Flannigan indeed. I need a drink.
Hidden inside the bread box is a flask of ‘57 whiskey. The bible-thumping good girl image isn’t exactly conducive to my lifestyle, but as my boss, Murray pointed out, “Wild girls breed suspicion in landladys, and suspicion breeds snooping. And you like this woman, right?” I nod, just as I did then. His next comment rings chillingly through my head “Well, then I’d hate to have to...dispense with her. So just play the good girl, and everything will be fine.”
Dispensed with. Kennedy. Kennedy was dispensed with. He’d gotten to be a liablity, according to Murray. More important however--they’d caught a SPOOK. No one, but no one, catches a SPOOK. They’re spirits and apparitions. You may hear about them from time to time, unbelievable tales of their supernatural strength and ability, but no one really believes them. Except unlike spirits, SPOOKS are very, very real. And their talents, while at times exaggerated, are awesome to behold. How do I know this? Because I am one. Just like I know that Kennedy was shot with a single barrled shotgun, with two bullets going to his head, and a third striking the seat next to him. I know this, because I am the one who pulled the trigger.
I walk into the only other room in the apartment, which functions as my living space. At the end of a small, neatly made bed sits a “Hope chest”. This trunk does not house linen and other such nonsense though. Beneath the quiilt that sits inside it is a fortune of equipment. It is shiny, black streamedlined stuff--much of it no bigger than the palm of my hand. Much of it is also powerful enough to wipe out the city of Dallas, Texas. If I’ve learned anythng in my years as a spook, it’s that size really does not matter.
I reach for one thing in particular now--my CommCue set, my link to Murray and HQ. It springs to life and flashes me a welcome message-- It is 2: 37 PM, Central Time, and 34 degrees Farenheit in Dallas. The biggest news item is the assassination of the President of the United States of America, John F. Kennedy. And the current date is November 24, 2263.

Ooh I liked the twist ending.

Some spelling mistakes I noticed:

The Kennedy dabacle

Should be "debacle".

She thinks I’m an imbesule, anyway, so fine

Should be "imbecile".

To do with plot plausibility, this all made sense to me. It makes you assume about the story, and then by the end, you realise it's totally different. I liked the style, and the flow, and I'd be happy to read on when you post/do up some more.

Sweet . Other than the Spelling mistakes Firestarter pointed out, I see nothing wrong. That was one neat twist at the end.

First, a few spelling corrections:

cigarrette still clenched between her lips

Cigarette

my waredrobe is comprised mainly of black clothing

Wardrobe.

for you to to take to Father Flannigan

Delete the second "to".

Wild girls breed suspicion in landladys

Landladies.

He’d gotten to be a liablity

Liability

was shot with a single barrled shotgun

Barreled

Beneath the quiilt

Quilt.

. It is shiny, black streamedlined stuff

Streamed Lined. Two words. But I think you mean "streamlined".

. If I’ve learned anythng in my

Anything.

Central Time, and 34 degrees Farenheit

Fahrenheit

Very interesting concept. Near the end you really seem to pick up on it and your story solidifies, but before that... you really need to put MORE into the other, supporting characters.

It will be nice to see how this "spook" handles herself in the next few chapters. Will her own people turn on her? Will she get away with it? Who knows *loud scary music*....

Personally, if I was living around that time, I'd be laughing my a*s off... because history DOES repeat itself, and I would have guessed it--probably jokingly--with the Presidents election.

But as for the first assassination... everyone knows that neither a spook or Lee Harvey Oswald shot the president... it was the Mafia...

...yup, yup...

Hmm. I can't think now. It's only 9 p.m., but it feels like 11.
I agree with Tessitore. In the begining your characters are kinda transparent. All that can be worked through with some details and description, methinks. AHHHH! I'm thinking!! *gasp* AND while I'm half-asleep!

that's just it though, the characters you've met so far arent' supports, they're incidentals. they'll be lucky to get another scene.
and they're meant to be a touch transparent. the next thing i'm going to post will be an explanation of what the America Project is.

Glad you picked up on the SPOOK/spook thing Tess. there's meant to be some humor in this book.

Even if they DO appear only once, the woman DOES live with them. There must be SOMETHING to be said about their personality, who they are. You don't need to describe how tall they are, or the color of their hair, or their eyes, but describe THEM. Make them your friends and go with it.

For example, I'll put into a story a character that is only going to appear once (at least to my knowledge) and I go, "Lisa's grandmother was heavily into soap opera's, and she could be found during much of her waking hours in the old pink rocker by the 40-year-old television, laughing and crying and brooding appropriatley." It's not MUCH... but it's THERE. It says SOMETHING.

So... even if it's just a sentence or two, give your characters some character.

In that 4th paragraph, where everyone's talking and moving n stuff, I got a bit lost at a glance as to who's saying what. Can you break that up a bit

mmm yes i am bad about dismissing my incidentals...i think i'm going to edit the number of characters right there... Nancy and Patrick are both pretty unecessary.

C Elocin wrote:In that 4th paragraph, where everyone's talking and moving n stuff, I got a bit lost at a glance as to who's saying what. Can you break that up a bit

I noticed this too, you need a new paragraph for each new speaker. Very interesting idea though.

You don't neccessarily need a new paragraph for each person. I've seen where two people are talking back and forth in the same paragraph. It was only a few comment-reply, though, and it needs to be clear who's talking.

Loved the twist ending and the story in general...Just one thing besides spelling mistakes already pointed out...

[quote="A.O. Avalon"]I nod, just as I did then. His next comment rings chillingly through my head “Well, then I’d hate to have to...dispense with her. So just play the good girl, and everything will be fine.”
Dispensed with. Kennedy. Kennedy was dispensed with. He’d gotten to be a liablity, according to Murray. quote]

You use the word "dispense" quite a bit...

Dispense in normal terms means to give out, direct. I guess you could use is like you did, but wouldn't dispose have been better?

Dispense means "to release" as well, so it's technically okay, but i could probably come up with a better word. And yes, the word is meant to be used alot... it's government jargon.

That was very interesting. Good details and I think you did fine with the other characters. I also agree with everyone else, good twist in the ending!

I like it. I don't know if you meant this, but I noticed you didn't reveal much about the characters and keeping alot of it a mystery. It sets up a type of suspense. I like writing stuff like that too. All the other reviews before me already pointed out all the grammar and spelling mistakes.