A Promise is a Death Threat

What happens!!!!!!!????!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?! you know you really cna cut this off here, you're going to make a lot of people mad by leaving them hanging

Comments in red.

emmymcrawwr wrote:This is only the first part of chapter one, i decided since i couldn't write anymore, that i would post it and see what feedback i got.
1. The girl does not have the power, Agent Bassani does.
2. Agent Bassani has the power to hinder other's senses and emotions/mind. And the power to force a memory of his into your mind when he touches you. I have had many questions on that part.
3. The girl was IN FACT sitting at a table at the bookstore.
4. She felt like she was dying because she didn't feel real, and she felt like her surroundings were disappearing. So she felt like the man was taking her away.
5. Yes this IS a rough draft to BARE with me(:

I'll tell you the truth. I skipped all that because I don't want any reasons. I want the story, plain and simple. No reasons, no excuses, nothing. ^^ Let the story stand on its own.

Chapter One: The Meeting

Some might say he was handsome, gorgeous even, but when his eyes fell on mine, locking in place like they belonged there, it felt like ice was being poured on my body. I have a few comments about this sentence. First, it's incredibly long-winded and therefore kind of difficult to get through. Second, I'm not so sure about this because it's kind of common - handsome dude but chick thinks there's something wrong with him. Finally, maybe make it icy water. Because I read "ice was being poured on my body" I thought: ouch. My breath stopped for a moment and sounds around me became muffled. Maybe he was the Grim Reaper, coming to get me, bring me to hell or something, maybe that would have been better than this. First, I think that comma ought to be a semicolon. Second, what exactly is "this"? It's not so bad. She sounds like she has a death wish from that sentence. The book in my hands slipped and I couldn’t find my words: they were scattered and didn’t fit together properly. He leaned down, picking the book [Deleted from] off the ground before placing in front of me and yet again looking into my eyes. This is happening at an incredibly slow pace.

His voice… Oh that marvelous sound filled my ears and mind, giving me all my words back [Deleted suddenly]. ...This sentence tried so hard I almost laughed. I'm not joking. "Marvelous sound" doesn't exactly sound like a teenager talking unless she's sarcastic. Given the voice in the previous paragraph, she's most definitely out-of-character there. Edit your word choice. “Are you Summer? Summer Wright?” He asked, his lips moving gracefully, almost like he was a dream, and all of this wasn’t real. She sounds way freaky and obsessed here. If it was a dream, could I wake up? Could I stop it? Because I felt like I was dying, and it wasn’t nice at all. She doesn't sound like she's dying. In fact, she sounds like she's crazy. oo" The only thing that kept me from running away and never looking back was his voice. When it entered my ears, every worry that had crossed my mind slipped away for just a moment, leaving me with a feeling of complete bliss. Obviously not every worry disappeared. A few sentences back she was wishing sh was dead. Or awake. Or whatever. >>"

The people around me in this crowded bookstore were not even fazed by his presence. This is an awkward sentence. Also, I notice you tend to use weak verbs - the linking ones, especially. I'll elaborate more later. It was almost like he wasn’t there, like I was imagining him. I caught my breath and everything went back to normal: my vision returned, and my thoughts rearranged themselves. His question finally got to me, and I stood up, my book in hand. The sheer amount of commas in that sentence destroyed its flow. “Um, yes I am Summer Wright. Kinda stilted there. Taking out "I am Summer Wright" might fix it. Should I know you or something?” I asked; a puzzled expression on my face and my free hand clenched in my pocket. I'm not sure how she knows a puzzled expression is on her face. Usually we don't feel or notice our facial expressions shift unless we're doing it on purpose - smiling, pouting, etc.

My heart was confused and beating abnormally fast as he placed his hand out in front of him, waiting for a handshake. I took a deep breath and stretched out my hand, worried I might faint when our skin touched. Definitely boy-crazy. And when they did my head filled with memories foreign to me. A large man in a black suit was bleeding on the floor of some apartment I’ve never seen, and a shorter but yet still strong looking man stood above him holding a gun, a smirk on his lips. Then that memory faded and a new one began, then more after that, only in a few seconds did this all happen. And as soon as his hand left mine, they were gone. Only fragments of them stayed lodged in my mind somewhere, and yet they were smothered, like something that happened a long time ago, still in the back of my memory.

The man smiled at me; like he knew something I didn’t and put his hand in his pocket. I thought he was a teen. oo" “No, I hope not. I’m Agent Bassani; I worked for your father before he died two years ago. I need to ask you a few questions about him.”

We both sat down at the small table next to us, facing each other. I felt like I was under interrogation This last part is way awkward. Revise., well technically I was.

“Recently, your father’s, uh, work Maybe you mean corporation? Business? Company? Definitely not work. has been having a few problems with its employees. See, after your father’s death, the company has been falling to pieces bit by bit. I was your father’s right hand man, you could say, so naturally when he died, I took over the company. But plenty of agents have been quitting, or slacking off.” This entire bit is an infodump I'll forgive, but it sounds incredibly forced so you might want to revise it anyway.

I sat there for a moment, wondering how he found me. I hadn’t talked to my father since I turned 16; in fact his work was the thing that made my mother leave him that year.

Hello emmy, I’m pretty sure we haven’t met before. *shakes hands* I’m Lily! Here, have some of my cake! *hands a piece of cake*

before placing it in front of me and yet again looking into my eyes.

Hey Emmy
Here's my review for you. My comments are underneath the paragraph words with errors are in red.

Some might say he was handsome, gorgeous even, but when his eyes fell on mine, locking in place like they belonged there, it felt like ice was being poured on my body. My breath stopped for a moment and sounds around me became muffled. Maybe he was the Grim Reaper, coming to get me, bring me to hell or something, maybe that would have been better than this. The book in my hands slipped and I couldn’t find my words, they were scattered and didn’t fit together properly. He leaned down, picking the book from off the ground, before placing in front of me and yet again looking into my eyes.

His voice… Oh that marvelous sound filled my ears and mind giving me all my words back suddenly. “Are you Summer? Summer Wright?” He asked, his lips moving gracefully, almost like he was a dream, and all of this wasn’t real. If it was a dream, could I wake up? Could I stop it, because I felt like I was dying, and it wasn’t nice at all. The only thing that kept me from running away and never looking back was his voice. When it entered my ears, every worry that had crossed my mind slipped away for just a moment, leaving me with a feeling of complete bliss.

The people around me in this crowded bookstore were not even fazed by his presence. It was almost like he wasn’t there, like I was imagining him. I caught my breath and everything went back to normal, my vision returned, and my thoughts rearranged themselves. His question finally got to me, and I stood up, my book in hand. “Um, yes I am Summer Wright. Should I know you or something?” I asked; a puzzled expression on my face and my free hand clenched in my pocket.

My heart was confused and beating abnormally fast as he placed his hand out in front of him, waiting for a handshake. I took a deep breath and stretched out my hand, worried I might faint when our skin touched. And when they did my head filled with memories foreign to me. A large man in a black suit was bleeding on the floor of some apartment I’ve never seen, and a shorter but yet still strong looking man stood above him holding a gun, a smirk on his lips. Then that memory faded a new one began, then more after that, only in a few seconds did this all happen. And as soon as his hand left mine, they were gone, only fragments of them stayed lodged in my mind somewhere, and yet they were smothered, like something that happened a long time ago, still in the back of my memory.

The man smiled at me; like he knew something I didn’t and put his hand in his pocket. “No I hope not. I’m Agent Bassani; I worked for your father before he died two years ago. I need to ask you a few questions about your father.” We both sat down at the small table next to us, facing each other. I felt like I was under interrogation, well technically I was. “Recently, your father’s, uh, work has been having a few problems with employees. See after your father’s death, the company has been falling to pieces bit by bit. I was your father’s right hand man you could say, so naturally when he died, I took over the company. But plenty of agents have been quitting, or slacking off.” I sat there for a moment, wondering how he found me. I hadn’t talked to my father since I turned 16; in fact his work was the thing that made my mother leave him that year.

Hey there Emmy!

I'm Tanya, here for a review!

Some might say he was handsome, gorgeous even, but when his eyes fell on mine, locking in place like they belonged there, it felt like ice was being poured on my body. My breath stopped for a moment and sounds around me became muffled. Maybe he was the Grim Reaper, coming to get me, bring me to hell or something, maybe that would have been better than this. The book in my hands slipped and I couldn’t find my words, they were scattered and didn’t fit together properly.

His voice… Oh that marvelous sound filled my ears and mind giving me all my words back suddenly. “Are you Summer? Summer Wright?” He asked, his lips moving gracefully, almost like he was a dream, and all of this wasn’t real. If it was a dream, could I wake up? Could I stop it, because I felt like I was dying, and it wasn’t nice at all. The only thing that kept me from running away and never looking back was his voice. When it entered my ears, every worry that had crossed my mind slipped away for just a moment, leaving me with a feeling of complete bliss.

His question finally got to me, and I stood up, my book in hand. “Um, yes I am Summer Wright. Should I know you or something?”

My heart was confused and beating abnormally fast as he placed his hand out in front of him, waiting for a handshake. I took a deep breath and stretched out my hand, worried I might faint when our skin touched. And when they did my head filled with memories foreign to me. A large man in a black suit was bleeding on the floor of some apartment I’ve never seen, and a shorter but yet still strong looking man stood above him holding a gun, a smirk on his lips. Then that memory faded a new one began, then more after that, only in a few seconds did this all happen. And as soon as his hand left mine, they were gone, only fragments of them stayed lodged in my mind somewhere, and yet they were smothered, like something that happened a long time ago, still in the back of my memory.

The man smiled at me; like he knew something I didn’t and put his hand in his pocket. “No I hope not. I’m Agent Bassani; I worked for your father before he died two years ago. I need to ask you a few questions about your father.” We both sat down at the small table next to us, facing each other. I felt like I was under interrogation, well technically I was. “Recently, your father’s, uh, work has been having a few problems with employees. See after your father’s death, the company has been falling to pieces bit by bit. I was your father’s right hand man you could say, so naturally when he died, I took over the company. But plenty of agents have been quitting, or slacking off.” I sat there for a moment, wondering how he found me. I hadn’t talked to my father since I turned 16; in fact his work was the thing that made my mother leave him that year.