Is this a righteous prologue?
The Assassins Code
Prologue
The year is 2012, the economy is finally back to normal after years of turmoil and business is booming contained by all sorts of trade. The date is 12th Feb and its 6:48am and a 37 year old detective, roughly 6”2ft named James Grimoire is asleep surrounded by his single bed, suddenly he is abruptly awakened by his alarm clock which he continues to punch repeatedly until he hits the snooze button and turned back over, only to hear a phone call for across the room just as he closes his eyes and tries to get back to sleep.
Firstly, he tried to simply shame it and go back to sleep, but before he does he wonders if its work and looks at his desk to see how much money he have, “21 bucks?, That’s it?, well that sucks…” he says sighing yet grumbling to his dismay that he have to get out of bed at this time. He then shuffled his feet across his mess of an apartment scratch his stubble of a beard in one hand and shoving on a pair of ill-defined jeans and a “smartish” t-shirt with his other hand as he tried to avoid all his transcript and diagrams boxed up and thrown around the room he picked up his phone and replied. “Hello?, who’s calling at this hour?” He asked in a confused and tired yet strong, confident and deep tone of voice.
He wait a while but their was no reply. “Hello?!, pick up the god-damn phone!” he says now contained by a annoyed yet slightly patient tone, and as he was starting to put down the phone he hear a shriek from the other side of the line. He immediately put the phone to his ear and shouted, “hello, who is it, are you in trouble?!” he be breathing so heavily down the phone that he could hardly make out what the woman was adage next, “please…oh dear god help, me! Ackkkkkk!” she screams at him down the phone, and as soon as he hear her scream it went silent and the phone went motionless. As soon as he heard her phone die he chucked his phone across the room shoved his mobile, pen and notebook in his pocket jumped into his black leather trench coat and slammed spread out and shut his apartment door in one fell swoop and left.
As Grimoire was running down the stairwell that lead to buildings entrance he heard what he normally does while passing reliable apartments. Mr Portland’s wife was having intercourse with his best friend for the god know millionth time, Mrs Banks got beaten up by her drunken dead-beat husband, Mick, again. He simply shut out these things from his mind till he reached the building’s entrance, he could operate with that another time, not now.
He took his first steps out of the building to see a broken and battered New York City, he saw the hookers body lying by the dumpster that’s been lying near for the past 4 weeks, the diseased animals chasing each other down across the streets. But that wasn’t the worst of it, the people, they are the ones who permit this part of the city reduce and crumble to this horrible mess. James Grimoire took no notice of this and simply carried on running down the street till he met the address that he traced while on the phone.
As he took his first steps into the victims home, he in a jiffy got hit by the pungent smell coming from the building, even though she had only be dead for about 10 minutes the musty smell was overpowering making Grimoire’s proboscis crinkle as he covered it up when he entered. “Alright, standard procedure” he said pulling out and putting on a pair of latex gloves and then taking out some swab sticks.
He looked through several rooms taking a swab at several things, a trail of blood from the wall sliding down to the floor, as one of them, “The woman put up a struggle…” he thought to himself. He later entered the bathroom, he knew to expect everything and anything so he gently looked inside the toilet cistern, “A handgun?! But I heard no gun shots before she died…” the detective thought for a moment then carried on near his investigation checking every room then lastly he entered the master bedroom. As soon as he entered he saw the woman’s body subsequent to the phone lying on the bed drowning in her own rancid smelling blood. He first swabbed all around the phone cord that he originally caused her demise, he afterwards extracted the bullet from her skull and placed it in a see-through bag. “This is going to be more complicated than I first thought, I’ll hold to ring up Marc and get him to do some favours for me, besides, he owes me.”
Answers:
Firstly, I would change the entire first paragraph, for you tell us adjectives the details and not show.
For instance, you could add little things like,
'He gazed at the calendar, flicking through the inked page to find the correct date. So long had passed since he last needed it ... That was previously ...'
'His frame towered over ...' instead of saying that he's "6”2ft"
Obviously you could probably write much better than my extremely poor attempt up there which I wrote on a whim, so moral luck for the future and I hope you do well for I can tell you're rather talented at writing.
not bad, but you have a great deal of run-on sentences. replace some commas with periods and that should help the flow of the story. hope i help! Source(s): help me please?
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;…
Related Questions:
What is a apt label for a poetry book?
I am having a hard time thinking up of a name for my poetry book. The mood of adjectives of my poems is lighthearted and thoughtful. They are mostly about childhood and family. I wrote one about a photo of a fond memory... | Do you own a favorite poem? Or...
Prologue
The year is 2012, the economy is finally back to normal after years of turmoil and business is booming contained by all sorts of trade. The date is 12th Feb and its 6:48am and a 37 year old detective, roughly 6”2ft named James Grimoire is asleep surrounded by his single bed, suddenly he is abruptly awakened by his alarm clock which he continues to punch repeatedly until he hits the snooze button and turned back over, only to hear a phone call for across the room just as he closes his eyes and tries to get back to sleep.
Firstly, he tried to simply shame it and go back to sleep, but before he does he wonders if its work and looks at his desk to see how much money he have, “21 bucks?, That’s it?, well that sucks…” he says sighing yet grumbling to his dismay that he have to get out of bed at this time. He then shuffled his feet across his mess of an apartment scratch his stubble of a beard in one hand and shoving on a pair of ill-defined jeans and a “smartish” t-shirt with his other hand as he tried to avoid all his transcript and diagrams boxed up and thrown around the room he picked up his phone and replied. “Hello?, who’s calling at this hour?” He asked in a confused and tired yet strong, confident and deep tone of voice.
He wait a while but their was no reply. “Hello?!, pick up the god-damn phone!” he says now contained by a annoyed yet slightly patient tone, and as he was starting to put down the phone he hear a shriek from the other side of the line. He immediately put the phone to his ear and shouted, “hello, who is it, are you in trouble?!” he be breathing so heavily down the phone that he could hardly make out what the woman was adage next, “please…oh dear god help, me! Ackkkkkk!” she screams at him down the phone, and as soon as he hear her scream it went silent and the phone went motionless. As soon as he heard her phone die he chucked his phone across the room shoved his mobile, pen and notebook in his pocket jumped into his black leather trench coat and slammed spread out and shut his apartment door in one fell swoop and left.
As Grimoire was running down the stairwell that lead to buildings entrance he heard what he normally does while passing reliable apartments. Mr Portland’s wife was having intercourse with his best friend for the god know millionth time, Mrs Banks got beaten up by her drunken dead-beat husband, Mick, again. He simply shut out these things from his mind till he reached the building’s entrance, he could operate with that another time, not now.
He took his first steps out of the building to see a broken and battered New York City, he saw the hookers body lying by the dumpster that’s been lying near for the past 4 weeks, the diseased animals chasing each other down across the streets. But that wasn’t the worst of it, the people, they are the ones who permit this part of the city reduce and crumble to this horrible mess. James Grimoire took no notice of this and simply carried on running down the street till he met the address that he traced while on the phone.
As he took his first steps into the victims home, he in a jiffy got hit by the pungent smell coming from the building, even though she had only be dead for about 10 minutes the musty smell was overpowering making Grimoire’s proboscis crinkle as he covered it up when he entered. “Alright, standard procedure” he said pulling out and putting on a pair of latex gloves and then taking out some swab sticks.
He looked through several rooms taking a swab at several things, a trail of blood from the wall sliding down to the floor, as one of them, “The woman put up a struggle…” he thought to himself. He later entered the bathroom, he knew to expect everything and anything so he gently looked inside the toilet cistern, “A handgun?! But I heard no gun shots before she died…” the detective thought for a moment then carried on near his investigation checking every room then lastly he entered the master bedroom. As soon as he entered he saw the woman’s body subsequent to the phone lying on the bed drowning in her own rancid smelling blood. He first swabbed all around the phone cord that he originally caused her demise, he afterwards extracted the bullet from her skull and placed it in a see-through bag. “This is going to be more complicated than I first thought, I’ll hold to ring up Marc and get him to do some favours for me, besides, he owes me.”
Answers:
Firstly, I would change the entire first paragraph, for you tell us adjectives the details and not show.
For instance, you could add little things like,
'He gazed at the calendar, flicking through the inked page to find the correct date. So long had passed since he last needed it ... That was previously ...'
'His frame towered over ...' instead of saying that he's "6”2ft"
Obviously you could probably write much better than my extremely poor attempt up there which I wrote on a whim, so moral luck for the future and I hope you do well for I can tell you're rather talented at writing.
not bad, but you have a great deal of run-on sentences. replace some commas with periods and that should help the flow of the story. hope i help! Source(s): help me please?
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;…
Related Questions:
What is a apt label for a poetry book?
I am having a hard time thinking up of a name for my poetry book. The mood of adjectives of my poems is lighthearted and thoughtful. They are mostly about childhood and family. I wrote one about a photo of a fond memory... | Do you own a favorite poem? Or...