Jesse James and the Kingdom of the Mobking and his Cronies

handfulofoats · 21-05-2008

Note to the reader: this is my poor attempt at contributing a piece of work for critique. I haven't really gone over it since I wrote a large chunk of this late at night April 19th (you can only imagine what I had been doing) and I want to know what people think before I really dedicate any sort of time in writing. I'm not very creative and if this looks to linear or dull... I would really like to know. I don't want to hear about spelling errors or grammar errors. I'll catch those. I want to know about the amount of detail and the style of writing. If you can see this (soon to be) story of espionage, justice, and yes, the occasional mentioning of diapers being worth reading then I would very much appreciate you telling me. If I get constructive responses, I will sit down and actually write a damned story all the way to completion.

New Delhi, India

It wasn’t everyday that a boy turned eighteen, but for Jesse James, it was just another day surviving. It had been just over a year since he had smuggled himself to India and succumbed to an impoverished life begging in the streets of New Delhi. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he kept telling himself. This day was making out to be blistering hot. Jesse James always woke up to the sound of the market. Everyday, at the rise of the sun, people would swarm into the marketplace in town to buy and sell goods. It was the perfect place for someone who wanted to disappear, and more importantly, a broke man that needed free food.
Jesse walked through the stalls, looking for an easy meal. He had to find the safest steal. Getting caught would end him up in jail or worse. He crouched down at a jewelry stall, pretending to shop around for crappy jewelry. There was a bread stall nearby, and the seller was busy selling to customers. It was right there. As he got the nerve up to grab his meal, a boy came swinging down from the rooftops and snatched a piece of bread from the same stall that Jesse was going to hit, a monkey also grabbed some bread. “Abu, come on,” the boy shouted at the monkey as he took off down a nearby alley. Guards were swarming in the direction of the boy and the shopkeeper yelled angrily out at the thief, “Street rat!” This was the perfect opportunity for Jesse. He reached forward and grabbed two loaves of bread and walked in the opposite direction of the guards. He ducked down an alleyway and slid out of view.
The market in New Delhi was not a modern place. Situated just outside the metropolis, crime was a way of life here. At night, gunshots were common and women were always in danger of being assaulted. During the day, the bustle of the people in the market itself hid any sign of disdain. The stalls were in rows down narrow dusty streets. There were no cars and the buildings were made of brick. It was a step back into time, and Jesse liked the pre-civilization feeling it gave. Jesse usually spent his days dangling his feet off of a rooftop watching the crowd below, but today he opted to cower back into his home. When he first got to India, he had to sleep on the ground in alleyways. It took him a few months, but he found an abandon building that allowed to him take shelter at night. The building had few commodities. There was a rusted bed that squeaked abnormally loud anytime anything touched it. The mattress was intact, but smelled of mold. The rest of the building was gutted; there were only the four walls and the stairwell was missing a stair or two. Part of the ceiling had crumbled in, and the top floor was partially exposed to the sun. It was not a shabby place for a homeless teenager, however and it shaded him from the sun. When the sun fell, Jesse retreated back into his abode. He climbed under the covers and fell asleep.
Jesse James did not wake up with the noise of the market. He woke up to explosions and screaming. The ground was rumbling and the bed was squeaking away as it danced to the movement of the city. People were screaming. Jesse glanced out his window and saw hell. The city was ablaze. Jesse’s head raced, “Oh no, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.” He hurled himself down the stairs and out into the side street. The explosions were getting closer to the market. The boy turned and ran in the opposite direction, stumbling over people huddled on the ground. He made it a few hundred yards and looked back. The building that had been sheltering him exploded, sending debris flying and Jesse to the ground, out cold.

THAT'S THE END OF MY STORY FOLKS...

omg when I looked at this, I thought it was going to be like...longer.

Now I have some junkie looking tiny story that I want to delete ; ; but I can't.

Babyjames5 · 22-05-2008

If you space out the paragraphs it will look alot better and keep trying you'll get the hang of it.

21-05-2008	#1 (permalink)
handfulofoats Regular Historical Donor Join Date: Jan 2008 Location: usA Posts: 408 Threads: 8 Wiki Edits: 21	Jesse James and the Kingdom of the Mobking and his Cronies Note to the reader: this is my poor attempt at contributing a piece of work for critique. I haven't really gone over it since I wrote a large chunk of this late at night April 19th (you can only imagine what I had been doing) and I want to know what people think before I really dedicate any sort of time in writing. I'm not very creative and if this looks to linear or dull... I would really like to know. I don't want to hear about spelling errors or grammar errors. I'll catch those. I want to know about the amount of detail and the style of writing. If you can see this (soon to be) story of espionage, justice, and yes, the occasional mentioning of diapers being worth reading then I would very much appreciate you telling me. If I get constructive responses, I will sit down and actually write a damned story all the way to completion. New Delhi, India It wasn’t everyday that a boy turned eighteen, but for Jesse James, it was just another day surviving. It had been just over a year since he had smuggled himself to India and succumbed to an impoverished life begging in the streets of New Delhi. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he kept telling himself. This day was making out to be blistering hot. Jesse James always woke up to the sound of the market. Everyday, at the rise of the sun, people would swarm into the marketplace in town to buy and sell goods. It was the perfect place for someone who wanted to disappear, and more importantly, a broke man that needed free food. Jesse walked through the stalls, looking for an easy meal. He had to find the safest steal. Getting caught would end him up in jail or worse. He crouched down at a jewelry stall, pretending to shop around for crappy jewelry. There was a bread stall nearby, and the seller was busy selling to customers. It was right there. As he got the nerve up to grab his meal, a boy came swinging down from the rooftops and snatched a piece of bread from the same stall that Jesse was going to hit, a monkey also grabbed some bread. “Abu, come on,” the boy shouted at the monkey as he took off down a nearby alley. Guards were swarming in the direction of the boy and the shopkeeper yelled angrily out at the thief, “Street rat!” This was the perfect opportunity for Jesse. He reached forward and grabbed two loaves of bread and walked in the opposite direction of the guards. He ducked down an alleyway and slid out of view. The market in New Delhi was not a modern place. Situated just outside the metropolis, crime was a way of life here. At night, gunshots were common and women were always in danger of being assaulted. During the day, the bustle of the people in the market itself hid any sign of disdain. The stalls were in rows down narrow dusty streets. There were no cars and the buildings were made of brick. It was a step back into time, and Jesse liked the pre-civilization feeling it gave. Jesse usually spent his days dangling his feet off of a rooftop watching the crowd below, but today he opted to cower back into his home. When he first got to India, he had to sleep on the ground in alleyways. It took him a few months, but he found an abandon building that allowed to him take shelter at night. The building had few commodities. There was a rusted bed that squeaked abnormally loud anytime anything touched it. The mattress was intact, but smelled of mold. The rest of the building was gutted; there were only the four walls and the stairwell was missing a stair or two. Part of the ceiling had crumbled in, and the top floor was partially exposed to the sun. It was not a shabby place for a homeless teenager, however and it shaded him from the sun. When the sun fell, Jesse retreated back into his abode. He climbed under the covers and fell asleep. Jesse James did not wake up with the noise of the market. He woke up to explosions and screaming. The ground was rumbling and the bed was squeaking away as it danced to the movement of the city. People were screaming. Jesse glanced out his window and saw hell. The city was ablaze. Jesse’s head raced, “Oh no, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.” He hurled himself down the stairs and out into the side street. The explosions were getting closer to the market. The boy turned and ran in the opposite direction, stumbling over people huddled on the ground. He made it a few hundred yards and looked back. The building that had been sheltering him exploded, sending debris flying and Jesse to the ground, out cold. THAT'S THE END OF MY STORY FOLKS... omg when I looked at this, I thought it was going to be like...longer. Now I have some junkie looking tiny story that I want to delete ; ; but I can't.

Thread Tools
Show Printable Version Email this Page
Display Modes
Linear Mode Switch to Hybrid Mode Switch to Threaded Mode

22-05-2008	#2 (permalink)
Babyjames5 Regular Join Date: May 2008 Location: Ringtown, Pennsylvania/ United States Posts: 54 Threads: 2 Reputation: 1	If you space out the paragraphs it will look alot better and keep trying you'll get the hang of it.