Hello Everyone,
This story is about a kid and a bad situation. It's reality and could actually happen.
I'm sorry if some of you are offended by the few cuss words. I personally don't swear,
But it's necessary in this story or it wouldn't have the same effect, meaning, or feeling.
I hope you like it,
-thevoiceinside
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THE BOY
The moonlit night held secrets of uncertainty. A second floor apartment porch light was the only light illuminating the murky alley. Midnight had come and gone but restless beings still wandered through the blackness. The soft pitter patter of uneasy footsteps echoed like a haunting in the alley. The boy stood cautiously, glancing around him. Every little movement, sound and whisper seemed to startle his incentive to run. Their voices were muffled, faded syllables that could not be understood. A shiver ran up his spine as he crouched behind a metal dumpster, clutching a red backpack at his side. It held something worth a worldly high price, but is worth nothing to those who appreciate life. A thick stack of one hundred dollar bills fell heavily onto the dusty pavement. The sound stiffened the boy’s nerves. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, stuffing the wad of cash back inside the backpack.
The aroma of exhaust and cigarette smoke filtered through the air like unwanted bacteria. The boy caught his breath in an intoxicating heave as he took a few steps backwards, trying desperately not to make himself known. A sweat caked hand seized the boy’s mouth; muting his screams. Cold steel pressed firmly against the back of his neck; sending chills to the tips of his toes. “Don’t make a sound or you’re dead,” a rough, familiar voice spoke sternly into the boy’s ear. The man removed the gun, shoving the boy into the grasp of another. The boy recognized all three men that now stood, surrounding his every move. EJ, the leader of gang zX9, had the criminal record of a murderous Gadianton. He had multiple tattoos and piercings; a lot more than the other two men. The second man, Vinny, had a prune-like appearance. He had been busted more than once for dealing drugs to Minnesota East’s junior high school students. As for the third man, Nick, he’s a few years younger than the other two; only eighteen or nineteen years old. Nick was always the one to wave his white and blue gang colors proudly. Not to mention, all three of them were lying, back stabbing crooks.
They thrust the boy against a brick wall and pinned his arms helplessly, knocking the wind right out of him. “What do you want, EJ?” The boy demanded, catching his breath. The man with the gun tilted his head back and chuckled to himself. His eyes glazed over into a determined glare. He cocked his gun, pointing it to the boy’s temple.
“You know what I want, Kid. Where’s my money you piece of shit?!” The boy’s heart skipped every other beat. His words came out shaky, “I-it’s in the bag, I swear.”
EJ glanced behind him. The red backpack lay against a metal dumpster. “Let go of the kid, but make sure he stays here,” muttered EJ. Vinny did as his boss commanded. EJ motioned to Nick, who rummaged through the backpack; placing each stack of cash onto the alley floor. Several moments past and Nick counted nervously faster. He stopped suddenly and looked up at his boss, angrily. “483 grand is missing.” EJ’s expression turned furious. He grappled the boy by the throat, cornering him between the dumpster and the brick wall.
“750 grand!!! There was 750 grand!! Where’s my flippin half million?!”
The boy gasped for air. “I-I don’t know!!”
EJ pulled a 6mm hand gun from his leather jacket, forcing it into the boy’s abdomen. The boy’s thoughts stiffened and his body went clammy with petrified fear. He could feel the blood rush to his knees.
“I won’t hesitate to end your pathetic, wasted life. If I don’t see my money in one week, you’re dead. And tell Pete,” EJ paused, glancing around, “wherever he is, that I’ll do the same to him. Is that clear?” The boy nodded as the gun was removed.
A clattered metal banging sounded from several feet ahead in the narrow alley. EJ’s expression stiffened. Throwing the boy into the grasp of Vinny, he cautiously slid around to the other side of the dumpster; his hand gun cocked and ready to kill. A discrete shadow merged into focus. A young man of about seventeen years stood two feet in front of his persecutor. He raised his arms in a surrendering stance as EJ had the gun pointed right at him. “Whoa EJ, I’m just playin’.” The boy struggled as the voice sounded all too familiar; it was Pete. EJ laughed sarcastically and made a motion with his head for Pete to walk toward the others at gun point. Pete’s attire consisted of the usual back alley fad. Being the leader of gang Mainstream420, he always wore his red bandanna around his left arm. His rustic black hair hadn’t seen a comb in several weeks. A circle now formed, enclosing Pete as the center of attention. Vinny held the boy tighter, standing next to Nick and his boss.
“Where’s my money?” EJ asked roughly through his teeth. He didn’t wait for a response as he knocked Pete over the head with his gun and held it there, threatening his every move. Pete fell to his knees; his head bleeding.
“I-it’s in my shed on Edison Drive. I swear man, it’s all there.” His words were shaky. The boy tried to interrupt but was taken back by the fact that these men wouldn’t hesitate to kill them both if he spoke. EJ laughed once more as an eerie smile formed in his lips.
“Thank you, Pete…” He paused, his voice switching tones abruptly, “nice doing business with you, my friend.”
The trigger fired with a loud and echoing “Bang”. Pete’s body fell limp on the asphalt pavement. He lay motionless in a pool of blood. Far off police sirens beckoned closer as the seconds dragged on. Vinny threw the boy to the ground; warning him, “You talk and there will be hell to pay. If we don’t find the money, then we’ll know right where to find you.” And with that Vinny, Nick, and EJ ran in haste around the apartment building and out of sight. The boy leaned over his friend. Pete’s body felt cold and distant. “Damn it Pete, why did you tell them?” A tear trickled from the boy’s face. He wiped it away quickly as he darted out of the alley in the opposite direction, leaving a part of himself behind.
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140,563 Literary Works • 673,441 Reviews
I love the opening sentence!
Here you repeated light twice. I would suggest changing the second 'light' to 'thing' instead. Less discriptive, but less repetitive.
I would suggest taking out 'not to mention' and just making it 'all three of them were lying, back stabbing crooks.' I think it flows a bit better.
You used Pete three times here, I'd turn some of the 'Pete's into hims and his's.
I don't think that the police would come emmediatly. If it were in the middle of the day, I'm sure someone would have seen this happen-or heard it- and call nine one one. But, this is midnight. I'm sure that everyone would have been sleeping. Unless, the people from the apartment heard, but it would still be a little while away. Sorry, that just caught my attention.
Overall, I like it. The characters seem realistic. I would ask for the boy to be givin a name,but I think it makes it more realistic, like he's just an ordinary guy like you and all. Good work!
~MV
Hey again! I decided to check out your profile.
You did really well making the story believeable, and your characters can hold their own, I think. Well done!
EJ, the leader of gang zX9, had the criminal record of a murderous Gadianton.
I enjoyed this bit. Can I guess the inspiration behind it?
Before I go on, I just wanted to note that this beginning is reminding me of Passageto Zarahemla by Chris Heimerdinger. Have you read it?
“What do you want, EJ?” The boy demanded, catching his breath.
I do believe the 't' in 'the' needs to be under case.
Where’s my money you piece of shit?!”
This sentence has a structure similar to the one before it. Thus, it needs a comma after 'money.'
“You know what I want, Kid. Where’s my money you piece of shit?!” The boy’s heart skipped every other beat. His words came out shaky, “I-it’s in the bag, I swear.”
Since there are two different people talking here, I think you should seperate it into two paragraphs instead of one. At first, I thought it was still EJ talking, which, of course, makes no sense.
The trigger fired with a loud and echoing “Bang”.
Since no one's talking, I'm pretty sure 'bang' doesn't need to be capitalized or in quotation marks. It's just an otomatopeia, (however you spell that) so, if I remember correctly, you should be able to use it as a normal word. "The trigger fired with a loud and echoing bang."
Pretty intense, my friend! I especially liked your first sentence, "The moonlit night held secrets of uncertainty. " Sounds ominous!
Thanks for the read!
--Anna
The story seems like a really awesome read. I love stories like this. Its got a nice hint of suspense and action to it, and even from the first chapter you can tell it will be a good story. I can't wait to find out what happens next. I like the voice and feeling of the story - it fits with the plot and characters. Well done!
Hola, I'm Rubric and I've be reviewing you today! Down to business:
you've a repetition of "light" here. Might be better to replace with "porch light was the only illumination in the murky alley."
"restless spirits" goes with the atmosphere you're trying to project.
if you're determined to keep pitter-patter, you need the hyphen. However pitter-patter doesnt go well with "uneasy footsteps" as the latter is hesitant, whereas the former is quick, even hasty.
hmmm, "increase his incentive to run", though I'd prefer something along the lines of "shook his courage to the very core"
Whose voices? Until you point out specifically who's talking, use indirect references like "The voices"
"clutching a red backpack to his side", this is a matter of personal taste though.
Poor turn of phrase. I understand what you're saying, but one should rarely have to intepret an author. What you've written is a little clumsy here.
sweat-caked hand
back-stabbing
lose the helplessly, it kind of goes without saying
his body went clammy, petrified with fear.
"but was stopped" maybe? I don't wuite get what you're tring to say here...
I like this, you certainly pack a lot in. One thing I've been accused of in my writing is perhaps "overwriting", throwing too much description or too many ideas into a story. The reason my critique is long isn't because your work is poor, it's because you pack so much more into a page of writing than most people. If you want to get a firmer idea of what I'm talking about, have a look at some of the critiques of works I've submitted (especially the less recent ones) and you'll see what I'm talking about.
Nice work,
Rubric