Hello there, I'm reviewing this for the story of the week competition over at WDC Frontliners. Please remember that everything i've said is just my opinion: I'm still rather new here and so i'm still getting the hang of reviews.
I'm practising line by line reviews right now, so bare with me.
plot: Good plot, your main character has obviously moved to Saris from L.A recently, and his friction with his partner adds a rather interesting mix to the murder investigation.
characters: Both of your characters are convincing and well described, however i didn't really feel for them. They were good, but they seemed to lack a certain personality until right near the end.
grammar: No complaints
style/voice: I like your tone of voice for your writing, its unique and makes the reader continue reading. Good work on this!
setting: Once again, brilliant setting. The burned building is vividly described, the bodies clear in my mind.
overall: Overall this was a compelling story that held the readers interest to the end. Pity that there is no resolution to the case, but in a way that is fine: it was more about establishing what had happened than who had done it. I enjoyed reading this, and good luck for the story of the week competition.
Write on!
Aaron
Line by lines are in bold below:
I parked the old silver Crown Victoria near the curb and turned the lights off. The officers had finished roping the area off and were now escorting half a dozen reporters away from the premises. A fire truck lit up the evening sky with flashing lights as a handful of volunteers repacked their gear. I shook my head at the pathetic scene. Sardis, Mississippi was nothing like L.A.
- Good first paragraph, does make me wonder why the scene was ‘pathetic’ though. What is so different here as to in L.A?
My older partner began rummaging through the glove compartment. An irritated sigh escaped her full lips as she regarded me with cool ebony eyes that matched the dress suit she wore tonight. "I suppose the gloves are in the trunk again, Michael. Why do you that?"
- Don’t know if ‘full’ is necessary in ‘full lips’. It just seems to break up the flow a little.
The woman's level voice, mixed with the local southern drawl, made it hard for me to focus. "Sorry, Marie-Ann. That's usually where I keep the big guns. I like to have everything I need in one spot." I shrugged before reaching down and pulling the trunk release. "Old habit."
"Well you're not arresting gang bangers anymore. There's no need to keep putting crap in the trunk." She paused in the act of opening the passenger door. "And don't call me Marie-Ann."
"Then stop calling me Michael."
Marie replied with a curt nod before slamming the door.
While contemplating the fact that I will never understand women, I began searching every pocket of my gray suit for a smoke. The endeavor proved futile, and I stopped when my partner lookup up into my eyes with that cool stare. She handed me a pair of latex gloves and we walked in silence toward what was left of the Dutch-colonial style home.
- ‘when my partner lookup up into my eyes’ = ‘when my partner looked up into my eyes’
The silence irritated me because I recognized the test. She dared me to take the lead. I stopped in the middle of the lawn and exhaled a heavy sigh. Those dark orbs stared into mine once more, but I met the challenge this time. The captain really screwed up with this pairing. "Look Davis, we have the same time in grade and the same rank. Between you and me, I don't care who takes the lead. I just want to solve cases. Now instead of attitude why don't you try telling me what you think? Me? I see an open and shut case. This house was older than my grandmother, God rest her soul."
Marie paused for a moment before exploding into a fit of laughing.
- I think this line would work better if you added in what type of laughter. I get the feeling its meant to be patronising, but from the way it’s written she could almost be happy.
She grabbed my arm, her unpainted nails digging into my slim bicep, and pulled me toward the dilapidated home. It took her a few moments to control her unusual mirth. "Credit is overrated. Your theory is a good one, but the Hansons have always been reclusive, strange. Maybe some nut decided to do the town a favor."
* * *
We stood looking within the remains of a devastated living room in silence for a couple of minutes. Two bodies shared a loveseat centered along the windowless left wall. A child-sized husk occupied one of two chairs along the far wall with a shattered window above it. The small television set to our right continued to spark in sporadic spurts. I shook my head at the mess left behind by Sardis' Finest. "Did they use all the water in the whole damn county?"
Davis let out a soft sigh as she walked into the room filled with charred corpses. "Mick, look at this." She pointed a finger at the remains of a car seat with a newborn still strapped in. Her slim form crouched low and picked up a clear shard from the rubble. "Glass." We both stared at the window. "Someone threw this baby into the fire."
I looked away in disgust and examined the pair on the sofa, kicking over a burned set of slender pipes along the way. "One set of wrists are tied to the arm of the sofa. The other isn't. The bound wrists are smaller. Mrs. Hanson?"
"Looks like a mass suicide."
- Seems a rather naive thing to say, someone was bound to a chair, a baby was thrown through the window. Seems more like murder to me.
I shook my head at her summation. "Then who threw the baby back inside?"
A rustling sound from behind made me reach for my gun. Davis giggled and led the nerdy looking medical examiner in. The kid looked nineteen. I sighed and stepped outside to let him do his job.
The fire department and reporters left during our initial investigation, leaving Davis and I alone with our thoughts. Out of habit, my hands searched each pocket for a Marlboro. I looked toward the car and noticed something odd. "Didn't you close the trunk, Davis?"
Marie took a deep breath while removing her forty-five. "Yea."
We approached the vehicle with care and found the remains of a camera inside the trunk. I thought back to the scene- a burned set of slender pipes.
"A tripod."
"What?"
I did not bother responding as I tried to see if the thing still worked. An image appeared on the miniature screen but no sound accompanied it. A balding man in jeans and a plaid shirt sat on a leather sofa and spoke into the camera, a serene look on his face as the wife struggled to break free beside him. Hanson looked to the left and jumped from the seat and ran off the screen. Mrs. Hanson's eyes widened in horror as her husband fell back toward the sofa with a shard of glass embedded into his chest. A slender hip in blue jeans stood in front of the lens, obscuring the view. Soon the picture went dark and I resumed breathing.
Davis broke the silence. "Someone escaped, took the camera, and left the others to burn."
"And threw in the baby for good measure."
Davis and I exchanged tired glances. We both knew it was going to be a long night.
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
|
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
