Young Writers Society

I still am pretty confuzed about what happened (my brain's not working yet this morning,) but what I actually understood I really liked! There are just a few spots that bugged me.

"Good form," he muttered, having played basketball in college himself. That had been years prior, though. Now he was losing his touch. At thirty five, he was beginning to slow down, lose the edge he had worked so hard to gain over the competition.

The game continued for hours, until well after sunset. When the game finally ended, only four players were left, the others had other places to be.

Awarded in 2006? That would make him 19! Darren thought, surprised at how young Bryce had been upon receiving the medals. He skimmed through the files a while longer; born August of '87

The game continued for hours, until well after sunset. When the game finally ended, only four players were left, the others had other places to be.

Cris pulled out his cell phone and called 911. The cops arrived about twenty minutes later to find Darren's body splayed out across the basketball court, and the three friends sitting on the nearby benches.

Glancing down at his PDA, he read over the information on Jonathon Bryce; University of California in Berkley graduate with a Bachelor's Degree in Philosophy.

Jonathon Bryce and his friends were never charged with the murder of the hitman contracted to kill him; the court determined it was a matter of self defense and released them without question. One of the cops even asked Bryce for an autograph, claiming he was an inspiration to the force.

Quiz wrote:Written in twenty minutes for that contest of Ryan's...

Darren gazed across the park from his place in the shadows, watching his target shoot hoops with his friends.

**Target? He's...stalking him? If so, nice beginning. lol
Glancing down at his PDA, he read over the information on Jonathon Bryce; University of California in Berkley graduate with a Bachelor's Degree in Philosophy.

Who gets a degree in Philosophy? Darren wondered, watching as Bryce sunk a three point shot from behind the arc.
**The word sunk sort of sounds funny here, though I still like it. It's just used in this form often I guess.

"Good form," he muttered, having played basketball in college himself. That had been years prior, though. Now he was losing his touch. At thirty five, he was beginning to slow down, lose the edge he had worked so hard to gain over the competition.

Military training? Darren opened Bryce's military file, which cited an impressive array of medals. He had been awarded a Purple Heart and the Silver Star for his gallantry in a routine urban clean up gone wrong.

**This paragraph reads a little odd. I can't really understand what he did here, did he ask before himself about th military training before actually looking?

Awarded in 2006? That would make him 19! Darren thought, surprised at how young Bryce had been upon receiving the medals. He skimmed through the files a while longer; born August of '87 to an upper class white family, lived the high life of private school until his parents were killed in the 2001 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, then sent to live with his grandparents, graduated High School fifth in his class, then enlisted in the Marine Corps, awarded the Silver Star and honorably discharged from the Marines, enrolled at UC Berkley upon return, graduated four years later, got a job working for an insurance company.

**This almost seems like a run-on and it's kind of choppy. After a while the commas don't seem to do much. Especially with all of the "then"s inbetween. Maybe turn some of them into their own sentences that way it reads easier.

Somewhere along the line he had also pissed off a Colombian drug lord. How, Darren didn't know. Nor did he care.

**Make "How" a question by itself "How? Darren didn't know. Nor did he care"

Darren powered down his PDA and slipped it into his coat pocket. He looked up just in time to see Bryce dodge past a defending player, slip by a second, then throw the ball up in a seemingly wild shot that sunk perfectly into the net. He and his team exchanged high fives, grins wide and laughs loud enough to be heard even from Darren's place fifty meters away.

**Sunk being a rare word in this context really only works good once and then you have to choose another word. Like dunk, dumped, dipped. Possibly even crashed or swooshed or something of that nature. lol, I'm sure you're more imaginitive than I am when it comes to basketball.

Time to get to work, Darren thought. He reached into his coat and checked to make sure his weapon was in place; for this particular hit, he'd chosen a simple pmm Beretta fitted with a disoposable sound supressor. Adjusting the handgun for better comfort, Darren walked out of the shadows and onto the streets.

**Ooo, a hitman? Even better.
"Sup man!" One of the players called out as he approached the game.

"How's it goin'?" he called back.

"You in dawg?" Another of the guys, a massive black man, asked him.

"Ain't he a little old to be playin' ball?" A smaller kid joked.

**It says smaller kid, which would imply that the person that spoke before him was a bigger kid, not a man. That just came off wrong, a man playing with a bunch of kids.

Bryce looked up from talking to his team as Darren dropped his coat on a nearby bench, sizing him up.

**So the other team is the one that notices Darren first? You might want to add that. I thought that Bryce had already realized Darrens appearance.

"Nah man, he's cool--we'll take him," the ex-Marine said evenly. Darren smiled at the young man and held his hands out, silently asking for the ball.

Bryce tossed it to him, a hard chest pass that almost knocked the wind out Darren before he caught it. It had been a while since Darren had played ball, he hoped his skills hadn't diminished too much. Taking a mid-range shot, he was glad to see the ball fall through the hoop with a satisfying swoosh.

*Like that, lol I like the swoosh.

"Let's do it," he said to his teammates. Bryce pointed out each of his teammates and named them off.

"I'm Blake," Darren said, using a common alias of his. As the team got into position, their opposition moved to guard them.

Bryce had the ball.

The instant his team was ready, the war hero slapped the ball with both hands, setting them into motion. One of Darren's teammates, the giant African American from before, moved quickly to set a pick for him, blocking out his defender.

Darren obliged, rolling away from the other man and holding his hands out for the ball. Bryce heaved the ball past two pairs of outstretched hands and into Darren's waiting grasp. No sooner had he touched the ball than Darren's calf muscled twitches, sending him high into the air. Pumping his arms, he sent the ball flying through the air, a perfect back spin on it as it dropped through the rim.

*Either his calf muscle twitches or his calf muscles twichted. And it can't drop through the rim right? It would have to roll around the rim but not through it? I guess it depends on how you look at it.

The game continued for hours, until well after sunset. When the game finally ended, only four players were left, the others had other places to be.

Darren, Bryce, the giant black man Andrew, and the wisecracking short guy Cris stood on the court, laughing and joking around.

**"the giant black man, Andrew, and the wisecracking short guy, Cris, ...." Commas before the names"

"Good playin' with ya Darren," Bryce said with a smile. He pulled on his sweatshirt, then grabbed the ball form the ground. Darren froze with his coat in his hand. He had introduced himself as Blake.

"Shit," he mumbled, looking up at Bryce. He still wore that wide grin, only this time there was something else. Something dangerous.

"You picked the wrong target, my friend."

Darren swiftly dove into his coat, pulling forth the pistol concealed there.

A gunshot broke the silence of the park.

Darren's body fell to the ground, a bullet in his back.

Bryce grinned at Andrew, who still held his own smoking gun.

"Cake," he said to his friend. "Call the cops, this guy just tried to shoot me."

Cris pulled out his cell phone and called 911. The cops arrived about twenty minutes later to find Darren's body splayed out across the basketball court, and the three friends sitting on the nearby benches.

"You called it in?" the officer asked, pointing to Cris, who was still holding his phone.

"Yeah," he replied in that annoying singsong voice of his.

Three hours later, the officers released the three young men. As they walked away, Bryce passed Cris and Andrew each a stack of cash.

"Nice doin' business with you guys. Call me next time y'all are around the park." Bryce grinned and walked off. His own cell phone rang.

"Is it done?" the voice asked.

"Sir, yes sir."

Jonathon Bryce and his friends were never charged with the murder of the hitman contracted to kill him; the court determined it was a matter of self defense and released them without question. One of the cops even asked Bryce for an autograph, claiming he was an inspiration to the force.


--Q

Noted and corrected, thank you Carmina.

--Q

Nice little story. I like the twist. Some cleaning up to do though. This paragraph, "He skimmed through the files a while longer; born August of '87 to an upper class white family, lived the high life of private school until his parents were killed in the 2001 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, then sent to live with his grandparents...graduated High School fifth in his class, then enlisted in the Marine Corps. After awarded the Silver Star, honorably discharged from the Marines. Enrolled at UC Berkley upon return. Graduated four years later, got a job working for an insurance company. " Has some inconsistencies in how you list all the bio points. You have semi-colins, commas, an even ellipses. If you are going to list a bunch of sentence frags, you have to do it in a consitent manner or it looks like you just don't know your grammar. Don't use the word "apparantly." He pissed off a drug lord, just say he pissed of a drug lord. The "He reached into his coat and checked to make sure his weapon was in place" Since this is the first reference to his havin g aweapon, this might be a good place to say what kind of weapon it is. "onto the streets of Los Angeles." the streets of LA are a big place and also a little bit cliche. Over all....I liked it.