Whispers of Darkness, Chapter 1: Any Given Sunday
short story, action, horror, thriller
Published on:
Apr. 20, 2008, 7:05amWord Count:
1865Work Description
Detective Aaron Grey does his job the best he can. But when a negotiation gone terribly wrong takes his life, he is brought back thanks to the miracles of modern medicine. But he does not come back alone...(moderate language and violence)
This work is archived and isn't accepting critiques or comments. Why?
Print
“What have we got?”
It was a quiet, normal middle-lower class neighborhood. On normal days, the place would be having a peaceful spring afternoon. Kids would be riding around on their bikes. Wives would stand on their lawns, gossiping with their neighbors about what someone said or did that just tasted so delicious when repeated in an exaggerated manner. Teens would be hanging on the corner, or finding a secluded spot to smoke without having to risk being spotted by adults. Maybe someone was mowing their lawn or washing their car.
The center of the world was now focused on a single house. Once painted white, it had long begun to loose its luster and began to peel. The lawn was not completely abandoned, but was at least a week overdue for a mowing. A coffee can sat on the porch, dented and rusted, probably to serve as an ashtray for those long smoking sessions that helped ease the stress of the day. The front of the house had a porch, two full windows, and the front door was guarded by a secondary screen door.
Today, the children had been replaced by police officers; some in regular uniform, others with automatic weapons and bulletproof vests with the bold, intimidating letters that spelled “SWAT” and screamed “Freeze, motherfucker!” The regular light and lazy traffic custom in this residential area had ceased completely. SWAT trucks and police cruiser now dominated the street, flashing blue and red patriotism from their roof lights. The midday silence was pierced by the whump whump whump of helicopter blades.
Detective Aaron Grey didn’t need this shit. It was Sunday. He should be home, walking his dog, watching TV, wondering why he had never bothered to get married yet. Homicidal maniacs were not supposed to bother him until Monday.
“Holy shit man, am I glad you’re here,” said a large black officer standing inside the SWAT van. “Some psycho flew off the handle, took his family hostage, and began firing shots out into the street. Should have gone to church this morning, gotten some healing.”
“Is he talking?”
“We got a hard line over to him. He says he wants to talk to whoever’s in charge.”
“We’ll, good thing I’m here.” Aaron climbed up into the van. He wasn’t, in fact, in charge. But he talked better than those who were. His job was negotiations, and he was good at what he did.
SWAT operation vans were all the same. Cramped, full of computer equipment, and smelled faintly of coffee. There were three chairs bolted to the floor in front of computer consoles. A tech officer occupied each one, waiting for the order to look, listen, or whatever it was that tech guys did. Aaron wasn’t entirely sure how they did their job. At forty-five, he was beginning to loose touch with the rapidly changing technology of today. After all, the only equipment he used was his bulletproof vest, his sidearm, and occasionally a megaphone.
“Okay, let me talk to this guy, Jordan. Let him open up a bit, and then you can go in and kick him in the teeth.”
Jordan Dules grinned. “If only it were so simple, huh?” Detective Jordan Dules had been in the force just as long as Aaron had. They had been close for a long time. Jordan was not the man to take shit from anyone, and anyone trying to give it to him usually found his size-sixteen boot pressed firmly on their neck. And when there was two-hundred and fifty pounds of bear muscle over that foot, the shit usually came to an abrupt halt.
“Has he given us any information? A name, number of hostages?”
“Nope. Just fired blind shots out the windows and told us to put the man in charge on when we came to investigate.”
There was a phone
Rate This Work
Your honest rating will help the author improve, and you'll earn a little karma too.
Please log in to rate.Discussion
It was a quiet, normal middle-lower class neighborhood. On normal days, the place would be having a peaceful spring afternoon. Kids would be riding around on their bikes. Wives would stand on their lawns, gossiping with their neighbors about what someone said or did that just tasted so delicious when repeated in an exaggerated manner. Teens would be hanging on the corner, or finding a secluded spot to smoke without having to risk being spotted by adults. Maybe someone was mowing their lawn or washing their car.
I think this setting has just been done so many times that it feels hackneyed. It's almost like a screenplay saying "Est. Anytown USA" I think you can just cut straight to the house.
Homicidal maniacs were not supposed to bother him until Monday.
Cops don't work on weekends? That's scary. 
At forty-five, he was beginning to loose touch
it's "lose" touch
Jordan was not the man to take shit from anyone, and anyone trying to give it to him usually found his size-sixteen boot pressed firmly on their neck.
This is good, but Jordan's characterization is awfully similar to Aaron's, so in my mind I'm thinking I won't really be able to tell them apart.
“Fine.” Aaron sighed in relief. “Here’s how we’re going to do it. You’re going to come to the front door. I’ll hand you the kid. You’ll take it halfway across the yard, put it down, and come back. One of your cop buddies can pick it up from there. Wear no shirt, so I know you’re not armed.”
I see some holes to this "smart" plan, but let me get back to it...
The sun shown in his eyes.
it's "shone"
Overall, this is pretty well written. The action moves fast and the dialogue doesn't feel forced. I was going to say that the logic behind Chris's master plan of exchanging the kid seemed kind of faulty, because if he was super smart he might already know sharpshooters could take him out when he stepped to the door, or Aaron could have not turned back and walked into the house after handing off the kid. But I guess I don't know yet since him getting shot was a surprise. You seem to have a good handle on the plot and characterizations of this type of story. I wasn't so sure how you felt about perspective, but so far it seems to work pretty well.
I love the way this starts. You draw the audience in with an intriguing question which you can only assume came from a cop, then you paint the scene and go back to the question and situation at hand. I love it. I also really love love love
It’s written really, really well. I’m also completely in love with the entire 3<sup>rd</sup> paragraph on the first page. The imagery is really great, and I love the words you use. I’m writing this as I read, and I must say, I’m absolutely loving this. I love that it’s in 3<sup>rd</sup> person and you’re still inside Aaron Grey’s head.
I love the wording, especially in this next sentence, but it doesn’t read right. It sounds like you couldn’t decide which words to use, or else neglected grammar, and forgot about this when you published.
This sounds a little dramatic and it’s a little too much, so I would choose one or the other: “Angry and afraid” or “Mixing in the history…” (but that’s me).
Done! It was really good, but the dialogue was a little corny for me. Kinda forced, like it was scripted for a reality TV show (I have the same problem), because some of it doesn’t sound like something people would really, honestly say.
I love the way it ends: it’s simple, to the point and leaves you hanging. And to make matters worse, you care about the characters, which makes the ending work so much better, and leaves you wanting more, feeling bad for Aaron and speculating what will happen next. It’s really good; not perfect, but it has definite potential. I really enjoyed reading it, and I’ll be looking for the next chapter. We (I) are on the edge of our seats here! Next chapter, please!