2 posts tagged “ravens”

This is supposed to solve the following problems:

1. No death for the first few chapters
2. No explanation of what happened to the old lawyer, or why
3. No death for the first few chapters
4. No seeing Lourdes kick ass for the first few chapters
5. No death for the first few chapters.

    Frank sat on his bed. His nightshirt was cleanly pressed. His ankles were crossed demurely. A cotton cap of the sort worn back in the 1800's was perched on his freshly shampooed hair. A stack of ledgers sat by his bedside, red ribbons bookmarking specific pages. A small lamp lit the room moodily.

    The door shook on its hinges. "Open," a woman's voice commanded coolly. "We need to talk, Frank."

    "Lourdes," Frank said in a quivering voice, "I don't think I want to hear what you have to say."

    "Oh," the woman's voice said. The pounding on the door had stopped. It was replaced by the flat electronic music of a touch-tone keyboard being pressed. "You are just dying to know what I have to say," the woman continued, "I know it."

    Frank was crying. Tears ran down his cheeks slowly. When he spoke again, his voice was trembling so much it was hard to understand his words. "Here, Lourdes? In the keep? I thought you would at least let me go home."

    "No, Frank. I can't let you go home, I can't let you go to the bank, I can't let you call Ripper and get a new identity and disappear with my money." The electronic beeping had stopped. The door swung open slowly.

    Lourdes stood, one hand on her hip, the other casually caressing a bow staff. A knife was strapped to one leather-encased thigh, a gun to the other. Her pale blond hair was swept up in a very lady-like knot and her pursed lips glimmered with sparkling gloss. Her eyes were dark and red, the color of black cherries. Her vest and pants matched them precisely.

    Frank sat on the bed, as still as his fearful body would let him. even the lamp was starting to jiggle.

    "Tell me, Frank, dear." Lourdes said coolly, "did you or did you not steal ten thousand dollars?"

    Frank stared at his bedspread, "I did. My sister is sick and-"

    "I didn't ask why," Lourdes said.

    "But my sister is sick, and..."

    "Don't I pay you well?"

    "Very well."

    "Aren't all your needs met?"

    "But my sister..."

    "Did you ever once ask me to take care of your sister?"

    Frank looked up, startled. "No."

    "You should have asked, Frank." Lourdes put down the bow staff and pulled out her gun. "I will have mercy on you. This could be a lot more painful."

    Frank lowered his head again. "Thank you, mistress."

    Lourdes smirked and pulled the trigger.

    Two halls over and one hall up, a five year old girl sat on the lap of her nineteen year old caregiver. They turned up the volume on the television and talked about cats. Only one of them recognized the sound of the gun as it fired, and knew that Uncle Frank wouldn't be eating breakfast the next morning.

I'm going to be starting in to the editing next week.  Mr.  Stephen King advises taking time away from the story thinking about something else entirely before a rewrite.  Otherwise the story is far too familiar for your work to really change the things that need to be changed.

So...  I've only heard back from a few people, and I'm curious to know what everyone thinks.  If you have something to say, please say it now!

And YES, this is shamelessly shilling for feedback.  So?