*singerofthenight* wrote:Midnight Horror Island
August 15
1:39 a.m.
Ring......ring....
Marissa Calhoun burst out of the nightmare by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Yawning, she reached over to her nightstand to answer. Her hand caught air.
Frustrated, she threw the covers off and swung her feet over the side of the small twin bed.
Ring....ring...
"Hold on a damn minute will ya?" She grumbled, rising from the bed and walking over to the small pile of clothes she discarded on the floor last night and shifted through it, looking for the source of the ringing. Finally, she found it in her left jeans pocket, where apparently, she had left it. Before she answered, she checked the caller id. This one seems rather bland. Have her shiver at the cool wood floor against her soles, have her fingers discover silk, satin and cotton as she is searching for the phone. Let her shake out the jeans and the phone fall upon the floor with a clatter. Have her grope and peer through sleep-cobwebbed eyes to see the name. It's all about showing, m'dear.
Brad.
Flipping the phone open, she answered.
"Hello?" She grumbled, still half asleep.
"Marissa? Is that you?" a hushed male voice asked.
"Who is this?" She asked nervously.
"It's Brad. I need your help." He answered. Oh, God. It'd been 3 years since she last seen him. After that little incident that night in the kitchen, she hadn't heard from him. She could remember that horrible night when Brad had walked out of her life, and her dreams forever. She sighed before answering. This could be brought in subtly. Like the voice could make her think of the kitchen and what happened. Then there could be a line like this. "It'd been three years since that had happened."
"If it's about money Brad, you know I can't help you." She said.
" No..it's not about money.....Marissa someone’s trying to set me up. You're the only one I felt I could trust." He answered. For a moment she actually felt sorry for being angry at him for all these years. Angry? If Marissa is angry, then have her feel a surge of resentment at his voice, his words...
Without knowing it, she started pacing the room, running her free hand through her short strawberry blonde hair. After Brad had walked out of her life, she went and got it cut it into a short bob and had kept it that way ever since.
Her long legs seemed to carry her from one side of the room to the other in no time. She was tall for her age, 26, and she knew it, she just didn't like to admit it. Standing 5'9, she was taller than most the guys she had dated, though it was a short list. Marissa heard from one of her friends at work, a small newspaper in Horror called Midnight Horror weekly, that Brad had become a huge executive with the firm he had been working with those few terrible years ago. Telling alert! Whoop-whoop. Scatter this throughout the story, because this is also an info dump.
Masson and Co., a new business that seemed to be booming. It was the whole reason why Brad had started drinking in the first place. I thought it was when you were unemployed, you started drinking to cope?
She let out a hard sigh.
"Where are you?" She asked walking over to the window. She caught a glimpse of a very familiar looking car parked on the other side of the street. At first she was just stunned to think that he would come here, then anger took over. She paced even harder and faster, nearly running into the nightstand by her bed. The last phrase doesn't match up. Replace "harder" with "blindly" and x-nay the "even"
He must have sensed her unease, because her replied slowly, "I didn't know where else to go."
Angrily she said, "I know you ain't outside my house." She said, her southern accent getting the best of her. Normally, she tried to keep her accent in check, but it got the best of her at times. When she first went to college, where she met Brad, she didn't care about her accent. But during her sophomore year, she learned just how bad it was. Ehhh...it borders on info dump, but I'll let it go.
"Marissa? You still there?" Brad asked, sounding a bit worried.
"Yeah I'm here." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Look, I'm sorry, I just didn't know where else to turn. Can I please come in and explain?" Brad asked.
Silence.
"Please?"
"Um.....hold on and I'll unlock the door." She replied, stumbling down the steps to the first floor of her house. Checking her appearance in the floor to ceiling mirror. Her nightgown was a extremely pale tan color, almost see through. You could see the outline of her slim hips and petite waist, the soft triangle of curls covering her sex, and her small, round firm breasts. Satisfied, she hurried to the door and unlocked it. Sastified? Is she trying to seduce the guy now? What happened to make her a siren? Show the thoughts in her mind.
She heard a car door shut, followed by footsteps on the gravel. She turned the porch light on before cracking the door open. The shadow of a man standing about 6' 1 stood in her doorway. His broad shoulders and dark hair was all she could see. Same old Brad, though more in shape.
"Um....come in I guess." She said as she opened the door. Stepping back to let him in as he said,
"Thanks." He replied.
Midnight Horror Island
August 15 [I think you could use a better layout for the date. Maybe 15th August or 15/08/**** and give a year? Just so that it’s a little neater.]
1:39 a.m.
Ring......ring....
Marissa Calhoun burst out of the nightmare by the sound of her cell phone ringing. [Your phrasing is a little awkward. Perhaps ‘Marissa Calhoun burst out of the nightmare at the sound of her cell phone ringing’ or ‘Mariss Calhoun was severed from her nightmare by the sound of her cell [color=red][s]phne[/s] phone ringing.‘][/color]Yawning, she reached over to her nightstand to answer. [But she just woke from a nightmare? Describe how her hearts still thudding, how she casts her eyes warily about the room and then calms as she realises it’s her cell phone and it was only a dream.] Her hand caught air.
Frustrated, she threw the covers off and swung her feet over the side of the small twin bed.
Ring....ring...
"Hold on a damn minute will ya?" She [It should be a small s.] grumbled, rising from the bed, [Full stop here and start a new sentence at ’she walked’.] she walked a few steps [Comma here.]searching for the the small pile of clothes she’d discarded on the floor last night [I’d end this sentence here and start the next with something like ’She stumbled across it and shifted…’] and shifted through it, looking for the source of the ringing. [We know it’s a phone so why not simply say looking for the phone?] She shook her pants [Time to add a little description. What sort of trousers are these? Perhaps ’She picked up a creased pair of faded, blue jeans and shook them…’] until her phone fell to the floor with a loud clatter. "Shit." [Comma instead of full stop.] she [s]mummbled[/s] mumbled. Reaching down, she fumbled for her phone, [s]gropping[/s] groping in the darkness. Finding it, she stood up straight, touching the screen to show the caller id.
Brad.
Flipping the phone open, she answered.
"Hello?" She [Small s for she. Also, you used grumbled earlier. Pick a different word.] grumbled, still half asleep.
"Marissa? Is that you?" a hushed male voice asked.
"Who is this?" She asked nervously. [But she just looked at the caller ID! If it doesn’t sound like Brad, you’ve got to tell us that. Add it onto the line above but don’t leave us guessing.]
"It's Brad. I need your help." [Comma instead of full stop and small h for he.] He answered. Oh, God. It'd been [s]3[/s] three years since she last [s]seen[/s] saw him. After that little incident that night in the kitchen, she hadn't heard from him. [Dull. You can do better than this, dear. Remove this sentence and expand the previous one. Maybe something like ’…since she last saw him, standing in the kitchen with his blue eyes impassive, brown curls not brushed and his whole body telling her to stay back, stay away.’ Of course, insert your own physical descriptions and make it more interesting than that but… description =)] She could remember that horrible night when Brad had walked out of her life, and her dreams forever. [This line is unnecessary and a touch over dramatic.] She sighed before answering.
"If it's about money Brad, you know I can't help you." She [Comma and small s for she.] said.
" No..it's not about money..... [Be consistent with your ellipses! Use three dots for each ellipse.] Marissa [Comma here.] someone’s trying to set me up. You're the only one I felt I could trust." [Comma and small h for he.] He answered. For a moment she actually felt sorry for being angry at him for all these years.
Without knowing it, she started pacing the room, running her free hand through her short strawberry blonde hair. After Brad had walked out of her life, she went and got it cut[s] it[/s] into a short bob and had kept it that way ever since.
Her long legs seemed to carry her from one side of the room to the other in no time. At 26, she was tall for her age and she knew it, she just didn't like to admit it. Standing 5'9, she was taller than most of the guys she had dated, though it was a short list. Marissa heard from one of her friends at work, a small newspaper in Horror called Midnight Horror weekly, [This is awkward. It’s suggesting that the newspaper is her friend. I’m sure you didn’t mean that but it’s still awkward. Maybe ’Marissa had heard from someone she worked with, writing for the Midnight Horror weekly, that Brad…’] that Brad had become a huge executive with the firm he had been working with those few terrible years ago. [Then why did she think he needed money. That’s inconsistent.]
After Brad had joined with the company, Masson and Co., it didn't take long till he went into depresson and started drinking. At first, Marissa didn't think to much of it, until the night when he had dropped a shot glass on the floor in their kitchen, too drunk to care. Marissa had nearly cut her foot open when she ran into the kitchen to see what had happened. That was the night when [s]hen[/s] he had grabbed his coat and walked out the door. Tears formed in her eyes as she remembered that night.
"Where are you going?" Marrisa cried, holding her injured foot. She hopped up and down on one foot trying to get to the chair, while avoiding the shattered glass scattered[s] aross[/s] across the kitchen floor. Brad just ignored her, apparently too drunk to notice. [A good use of flash-backs.]
"Brad! Answer me, please!" She cried in [s]despare[/s] despair.
He stopped halfway out the door. His head lowered before he silently whispered, "To find myself." [colro=red][s]Those were the last words he had spoken to her in 3 years. [/s][/color]
Slowly, the memory faded. She let out a hard sigh.
She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Where are you?" She asked walking over to the window. She caught a glimpse of a familiar looking car parked on the other side of the street. At first she was just stunned to think that he would come here, then anger took over. She paced harder and faster, nearly running into the nightstand by her bed.
He must have sensed her unease, because [s]her[/s] he replied slowly, "I didn't know where else to go."
Angrily she said, "I know you ain't outside my house." [s]She said, her southern accent getting the best of her.[/s] Normally, she tried to keep her southern accent in check, but it got the best of her at times. When she first went to college, where she met Brad, she didn't care about her accent. During college, she was often looked down on because she was 'different'. She came from a small middle class family in southern Georgia. After she met Brad, she didn't really worry about her accent, she actually sort of forgot about it. [This is all telling rather than showing. Either try to drop it into the story more subtly or get rid of it. We don’t need the entire history of her accent.]
A voice interrupted her thinking. "Marissa? You still there?" Brad asked, sounding a bit worried.
"Yeah I'm here." [Comma and small s for she.] She said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Look, I'm sorry, I just didn't know where else to turn. Can I please come in and explain?" Brad asked.
Silence.
"Please?"
"Um.....hold on and I'll unlock the door." [Comma and small s for she. Also, try to show us some of her thoughts. Show us her reluctance, her hesitation.] She replied, stumbling down the steps to the first floor of her house. [Semi colon here and small c for checking.]Checking her appearance in the floor to ceiling mirror. Her nightgown was an extremely pale tan color, almost see through. You could see the outline of her slim hips and petite waist, the soft triangle of curls covering her sex, [This is a touch awkward. Perhaps vagina? Also, make sure this is rated. I didn’t check but if it isn’t, put a rating on it.] and her small, round firm breasts. What am I doing? she asked herself [s]when she realized what she was doing[/s]. She hurried to the front door, fumbled with the chain lock, then unlocked the dead bolt. [color=red][Dressed like that? She’s just questioned herself for looking in the mirror at her body and yet she doesn’t grab a coat?]
She heard a car door shut, followed by footsteps on the gravel. She turned the porch light on before cracking the door open. The shadow of a man standing about 6' 1 stood in her doorway. His broad shoulders and dark hair [s]was [/s]were all she could see. Same old Brad, though more in shape. [But you’ve just said she can barely see him so you can’t comment that he’s more in shape until he’s more visible.]
"Um....come in I guess." [Comma and small s for she.] She said as she opened the door. [s]Stepping[/s] She stepped back to let him in as he said,
"Thanks."[s] He replied.[/s]
*singerofthenight* wrote:Midnight Horror Island
August 15
1:39 a.m.
Ring......ring....
Marissa Calhoun burst out of the nightmare by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Yawning, she reached over to her nightstand to answer. Her hand caught air.
Frustrated, she threw the covers off and swung her feet over the side of the small twin bed.
Ring....ring...
"Hold on a damn minute will ya?" She grumbled, rising from the bed, she walked a few steps searching for the the small pile of clothes she discarded on the floor last night and shifted through it, looking for the source of the ringing. She shook her pants until her phone fell to the floor with a loud clatter. "Shit." she mummbled. Reaching down, she fumbled for her phone, gropping in the darkness. Finding it, she stood up straight, touching the screen to show the caller id.
Colt.
Flipping the phone open, she answered.
"Hello?" She grumbled, still half asleep.
"Marissa? Is that you?" a hushed male voice asked.
"Who is this?" She asked nervously.
"It'sColt. I need your help." He answered. Oh, God. It'd been 3 years since she last seen him. After that little incident that night in the kitchen, she hadn't heard from him. She could remember that horrible night when Colt had walked out of her life, and her dreams forever. She sighed before answering.
"If it's about money Colt, you know I can't help you." She said.
" No..it's not about money.....Marissa someone’s trying to set me up. You're the only one I felt I could trust." He answered. For a moment she actually felt sorry for being angry at him for all these years.
Without knowing it, she started pacing the room, running her free hand through her short strawberry blonde hair. After Colt had walked out of her life, she went and got it cut it into a short bob and had kept it that way ever since.
Her long legs seemed to carry her from one side of the room to the other in no time. At 26, she was tall for her age and she knew it, she just didn't like to admit it. Standing 5'9, she was taller than most the guys she had dated, though it was a short list. Marissa heard from one of her friends at work, a small newspaper in Horror called Midnight Horror weekly, that Colt had become a huge executive with the firm he had been working with those few terrible years ago.
After Colt had joined with the company, Masson and Co., it didn't take long till he went into depresson and started drinking. At first, Marissa didn't think to much of it, until the night when he had dropped a shot glass on the floor in their kitchen, too drunk to care. Marissa had nearly cut her foot open when she ran into the kitchen to see what had happened. That was the night when hen had grabbed his coat and walked out the door. Tears formed in her eyes as she remembered that night.
"Where are you going?" Marrisa cried, holding her injured foot. She hopped up and down on one foot trying to get to the chair, while avoiding the shattered glass scattered aross the kitchen floor. Colt just ignored her, apparently to drunk to notice.
“Colt! Answer me, please!" She cried in despare.
He stopped halfway out the door. His head lowered before he silently whispered, "To find myself."
Those were the last words he had spoken to her in 3 years.
Slowly, the memory faded. She let out a hard sigh.
She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Where are you?" She asked walking over to the window. She caught a glimpse of a familiar looking car parked on the other side of the street. At first she was just stunned to think that he would come here, then anger took over. She paced harder and faster, nearly running into the nightstand by her bed.
He must have sensed her unease, because her replied slowly, "I didn't know where else to go."
Angrily she said, "I know you ain't outside my house." She said, her southern accent getting the best of her. Normally, she tried to keep her accent in check, but it got the best of her at times. When she first went to college, where she met Colt, she didn't care about her accent. During college, she was often looked down on because she was 'different'. She came from a small middle class family in southern Georgia. After she met Colt, she didn't really worry about her accent, she actually sort of forgot about it.
A voice interrupted her thinking. "Marissa? You still there?" Colt asked, sounding a bit worried.
"Yeah I'm here." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Look, I'm sorry, I just didn't know where else to turn. Can I please come in and explain?" Colt asked.
Silence.
"Please?"
"Um.....hold on and I'll unlock the door." She replied, stumbling down the steps to the first floor of her house. Checking her appearance in the floor to ceiling mirror. Her nightgown was a extremely pale tan color, almost see through. You could see the outline of her slim hips and petite waist, the soft triangle of curls covering her sex, and her small, round firm breasts. What am I doing? she asked herself when she realized what she was doing. She hurried to the front door, fumbled with the chain lock, then unlocked the dead bolt.
She heard a car door shut, followed by footsteps on the gravel. She turned the porch light on before cracking the door open. The shadow of a man standing about 6' 1 stood in her doorway. His broad shoulders and dark hair was all she could see. Same old Colt, though more in shape.
"Um....come in I guess." She said as she opened the door. Stepping back to let him in as he said,
"Thanks." He replied.
Midnight Horror Island
Ring......ring....
Marissa Calhoun burst out of the nightmare by the sound of her cell phone ringing.
Yawning, she reached over to her nightstand to answer.
Frustrated, she threw the covers off and swung her feet over the side of the small twin bed.
"Hold on a damn minute will ya?"
"Hold on a damn minute will ya?" She grumbled, rising from the bed, she walked a few steps searching for the the small pile of clothes she discarded on the floor last night and shifted through it, looking for the source of the ringing.
"Shit." she mummbled.
Reaching down, she fumbled for her phone, gropping in the darkness.
Finding it, she stood up straight, touching the screen to show the caller id.
Colt.
Flipping the phone open, she answered.
"Hello?" She grumbled, still half asleep.
"Who is this?" She asked nervously.
"It'sColt. I need your help." He answered.
[b]It'dbeen 3 years since she last seen him.
After that little incident that night in the kitchen, she hadn't heard from him.
She could remember that horrible night when Colt had walked out of her life, and her dreams forever.
She sighed before answering.
"If it's about money Colt, you know I can't help you." She said.
" No..it's not about money.....Marissa someone’s trying to set me up. You're the only one I felt I could trust." He answered.
At 26, she was tall for her age and she knew it, she just didn't like to admit it. Standing 5'9, she was taller than most the guys she had dated, though it was a short list.
Marissa heard from one of her friends at work, a small newspaper in Horror called Midnight Horror weekly, that Colt had become a huge executive with the firm he had been working with those few terrible years ago.
After Colt had joined with the company, Masson and Co., it didn't take long till he went into depresson and started drinking.
That was the night when hen had grabbed his coat and walked out the door.
She hopped up and down on one foot trying to get to the chair, while avoiding the shattered glass scattered aross the kitchen floor.
“Colt! Answer me, please!" She cried in despare.
He stopped halfway out the door. His head lowered before he silently whispered, "To find myself."
Those were the last words he had spoken to her in 3 years.
"Where are you?" She asked walking over to the window.
He must have sensed her unease, because her replied slowly, "I didn't know where else to go."
Angrily she said, "I know you ain't outside my house." She said, her southern accent getting the best of her.
Normally, she tried to keep her accent in check, but it got the best of her at times. When she first went to college, where she met Colt, she didn't care about her accent. During college, she was often looked down on because she was 'different'. She came from a small middle class family in southern Georgia. After she met Colt, she didn't really worry about her accent, she actually sort of forgot about it.
A voice interrupted her thinking. "Marissa? You still there?" Colt asked, sounding a bit worried.
"Yeah I'm here." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Um.....hold on and I'll unlock the door." She replied, stumbling down the steps to the first floor of her house.
You could see the outline of her slim hips and petite waist, the soft triangle of curls covering her sex, and her small, round firm breasts.
The shadow of a man standing about 6' 1 stood in her doorway.
"Um....come in I guess." She said as she opened the door. Stepping back to let him in as he said,
"Thanks." He replied.
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