#1
Chapter 1: WATERDALE

His name was not John. This was made very apparent by the printed yellow letters on his parking bay. It read: BRANDON ANDREAS ? Andreas Law Firm.

Brandon barely made it to the city before the sneaking suspicion he had ignored had caught up with him. It was quiet. Too quiet for a major city at this time of day, but still not abandoned.

He made his way through the city towards his office. 4th floor up, in a rather large building. Plate glass windows, 15 floors and always imposing. Brandon smiled as he drove into his park. Life was sweet.

Some time later he walked into his office, ready for a day of work. Something was off about the day. Something just didn?t seem right. But with a busy day ahead of him Brandon barely had time to ponder the issue.

A call came through on his phone.
?Mr Andreas, call on line one? said his secretary.
He pushed line one with out a thought.
?Hello?
?Mr Andreas I assume?? came a voice from the phone, devoid of emotion.
?Yes, may I ask who I am speaking to??
Brandon paused for a minute. Even for a lawyer that sounded too formal.
?No you may not. I am going to tell you this once and once only. Watch your back. They?re coming for you?
Click
Then call ended abruptly
Brandon was puzzled. He look at the call register one his computer. No number.
Brandon stared at the screen with a blank expression.
No number he thought to himself.
Regardless he had no time to ponder what had just happened. He had far too many meetings to sit and think.

The day flew by like any other. A senseless and mindless blur. Meeting after meeting he told people what they wanted to hear. Being a junior at the firm, he would generally be handed that easier, smaller jobs.

But less than a year ago Brandon had become the sole heir to the law firm, after the untimely death of his father. His father?s death would be considered suspicious at best. But with no evidence the police had nothing to run with. So that was all that was left. A junior running a law firm and a suspicious death.

The original Andreas lawyer, however, remained looming of the firm like a hawk. Brandon?s grandfather, Antonio, remained at the firm, no longer working, but living on top floor, occasionally checking up on the workers.

As the day drew to a close Brandon waved goodbye to the many secretaries and made his way to his car. What happened next would best be described as unexpected.

As Brandon started his car and began to leave something caught his eye. Something written on the wall. As Brandon walked towards the he could make out the words.

There smeared in bold red letters were the words: YOU?RE NEXT

Somewhat cliché muttered Brandon, but effective nonetheless. Out of the corner of his eyes Brandon saw movement. He spun and instinctively threw a right hook. What his would be attacker didn?t realised was that Brandon was a ready and rearing military man before his fathers death, before he fell into law.

His attacker reeled back, into the path of Brandon?s headlights. Brandon got one look at him before he ran off into the darkness. Dark hair, a scarred face, and a look of completely devoid of emotion.

Brandon got back into his car, shaking, and headed home. After a 30 minute cruise on the freeway, home had never looked so appealing. That is until he pulled into the driveway.

To his horror a similar message was waiting on his door.
SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN was scratched into the door, with some kind of blunt tool. As Brandon exhaled and look down he saw something more disturbing than anything he had seen in war.
His dog was nailed to the door, by the throat.
?****?.? He breathed.
He whipped around and gave the neighbour hood the once over. He couldn?t see anything. But in the black of night, what could be seen?

With a saddened look on his face he made his way around to the back door. His wife wouldn?t be home yet. She worked late on Mondays. He had time to clean this up. The last thing he needed was his wife scared. He?d seen enough in his life to cope, but she hadn?t. Sarah hadn?t had a bad enough upbringing to experience loss.

He made his way inside slowly, crouching with every step. There?s always a chance they stayed he thought to himself. As he walked into the living room he saw a dark shadow. Instincts came into play more than logic as carefully planned his attack. He round the corner into the kitchen and came at the stranger with a shattering right. He downed him with a single punch. As he turned on the lights he saw his attacker was no attacker. It was Mr Johnson from next door.
At 30 years old and 6?3? Shane Johnson was a fit man. Brandon was somewhat impressed that he?d managed to down him.
?What the **** are you doing?? screamed Johnson from the ground, clutching his jaw.
?Oh ****? muttered Brandon ?I saw the dog and thought that you?well?? his words trailed off.
?I saw what happened, and came over here to stop them? Brandon noticed the malice in his voice as Johnson nearly spat ?them?.
?What happened??
?Four guys show up in a truck, they pull up and just walk over to your dog, and just like that?well you saw?then one of them scratched that message onto your door? said Johnson ?it was so organised and simple, I didn?t know what to think of it?
?What did you do?? asked Brandon helping Johnson up.
?All I could. The rest hopped in the van while the message was being scratched. So I ran over and did exactly what you did to me. The van left with out a thought to the other?then I got hit with the blunt end of a screwdriver and the little prick got away?
Brandon stared silently at the pool of blood under the door.

They both cleaned up the mess and buried the dog in the back yard under a small cross. They both lied and told Sarah that the dog had been hit by a neighbour?s car. As Johnson left that night a silent pact had been made between the two. Indeed they would sleep with one eye open.

Life continued as usual the next day. Same old coffee, same old news and same old work. After a short drive Brandon arrived home as usual and saw the message from last night staring him in the face. He sighed as he opened the door. He walked through the dark house and turned on the TV. More of the same news about how we?re all going to hell he thought. He turned the TV off and poured himself a drink. After a moment of silence he heard a noise. It sounded like a whimper. Like a hurt animal.

Instinctively he tried to find the source of the sound. He walked slowly around the house until he realised the origin of the sound.
?The closet? he said aloud.
He carefully opened the door of the closet and found?
Nothing. An empty closet stared back at him with a cold glare. Brandon searched inside the closet for the source of the sound. He found it.

A small set of speakers, with a wireless transmitter receiver attached. He was receiving a live signal. The whimpers stopped. And then he heard a voice.
?Let?s play a little game, shall we Shane? This is a Smith and Wesson revolver. It is the most efficient choice for our little game??

Immediately Brandon knew where this game was leading. Without so much as a second thought Brandon searched for a weapon. He found it in his ex-service Desert Eagle. Located in the rear of his gun cabinet. A cabinet that even Sarah wasn?t aware of.

Brandon tore out of his house, pistol in hand and stopped dead in his tracks. The van was there. It was black, unmarked and simple. Making note of this, he made his way to Johnson?s house. Luckily he knew the back entry to the house. Stepping quietly he made his way into Johnson?s house. He heard the noise he dreaded. Whimpering and a cocky voice nearly shouting at the whimpers.

?****? he whispered.

Crouching he made his way toward the noise. The Den was the source and the door was the only way in. **** it thought Brandon as he rushed the door. As he bounded into the room, gun in hand, he met eyes with his attacker from work. Still cold and devoid of emotion. The Den was too small to hold a raging gun battle, so the attacker decided to take Brandon by hand. Unfortunately he was met with the butt of Brandon?s Desert Eagle for his troubles. He dropped like a rock. Clearly he was not skilled in the art of combat.

With his attacker currently downed, he stole a glance at Johnson, tied to a chair and bleeding. After one swift kick to the back of his knees, Brandon was on the ground. In one swift move he rolled and hit his attacker in the face with his elbow, a hard blow to say the least. His attacker?s nose was broken after the hit and blood poured out of it. Brandon got up and delivered a hard kick to his attacker?s stomach. He coughed blood onto the floor.

After deciding the attacker was down, he untied Johnson from the chair.
?You ok?? he asked Johnson
?Yeah, just dandy, ****er ambushed me at the door and tied me up? The look on his face changed ?Brandon, what the **** have you gotten yourself into??

Chapter 2: Jacobs Ladder

thanks for reading. i'll update this as i write chapters. any comments apprietiated. their was a little prolouge thing but it was too long for one post...
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Quote by xifr
There is the possibility that I may have or may or may not have gone or not gone into the danger zone.


Quote by lespaulmarshall
I love you Joel
Last edited by joel_grieve at Aug 7, 2006,
#2
That was really nice i wanna read chapter 2 like NOW! lol
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#3
ha ha i still gotta write it. dont rush me
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Quote by xifr
There is the possibility that I may have or may or may not have gone or not gone into the danger zone.


Quote by lespaulmarshall
I love you Joel
#4
It was pretty good. Just a few technical criticisms:

(1) You use the device "devoid of emotion" a couple times. The phrase is so notable that the second time it loses its impact. Try something else in its stead.

(2) You use '"****' he whispered" a couple times as well. Variety is the spice of life.

(3) Your phone call ends:

Click
Then the phone call ended abruptly.

I think that's a bit redundant. I would just go with the "Click." since the reader probably knows that means the person just hung up.

(4) Another repeating critique: using "swift" to describe strikes in your fight scene in the house.

(5) I would just take a little more time setting up the scenes. You jump from action to action rather quickly. Keeping up a breakneck pace is terribly difficult, especially if you want to avoid the situations getting ludicrous.

(6) And this is just really picky of me... Instead of using Arabic numbers to represent numbers, spell them out. Don't begin a sentence "4th;" instead, say "Fourth."
Hi, I'm Peter
#6
ok thanks dirk. i wrote that in 30 mins and i know it needs some work. this is more of a basic concept at the moment. i warn you the next chapter is abit cliche, but i plan for greater things. i just felt this was a necesary step in the story

Chapter 2: Jacobs Ladder

They both sat in the cold embrace of the den staring at the man. The name in his wallet was Jeff Felton. More than likely a fake.

The both sat in the den in silence until Brandon broke the silence.
?What if we were supposed to stop him??
?What?? said Johnson, clearly confused.
?That was clearly too easy. The speakers in the closet, him not even thinking of firing a shot at me?? his voice trailed off. He considered this. He even considered some theories.

It had been easy. He looked at the ground with his head in his arms. Sarah would be home soon. How would he explain it?

He looked at the body once more. Through the silence he heard it. Sarah?s car pulling into the driveway, next door to Johnson?s. Damn he thought.

?Shane? Brandon called out
?Yeah, what?? his tone had changed from fear to frustration. Rather quickly.
?Sarah just got home, can I use your phone I need an escape plan for tonight??
Johnson stopped and thought about it.
?Sure?. He threw his cell phone to Brandon.
No sooner had it hit his hands had he flicked through the contact list. He scrolled straight past Andreas until he found it. Felton.


Just as he found it he looked up to see Johnson aiming the revolver square at his face. Brandon looked back at Johnson with a looks of disgust.

?You ****?why the **** would you do this??
?It?s quite simple really. I got paid the right amount of money, from the right people? he said, as he caught Brandon?s cold glare. ?Money is quite a foe Brandon and you lost this battle?

He tightened his grip on the trigger.

?You may have the gun Shane, but I bet you didn?t check if there were any bullets in that thing?

Instinctively Shane looked down to check. That was all the time Brandon needed. With a dive from the chair he managed to knock Shane into the concrete wall of the den. No fist fight need to ensue, the force of his skull hitting the concrete had been enough to knock him out cold. And with that Brandon did something he never thought himself capable of. He shot Shane. Directly through the left eye.

As he left he did the same to Felton, leaving the den a bloodied mess. Indeed Brandon had a hard enough up bringing to learn to deal with loss.

Brandon walked across the street back into his home. Its looked like it did every other night. Dull and lifeless. He sat in front of the TV, trying to forget he had just murdered two men. As he watched the late night news on CNN he finally started to relax. It was late and he assumed that Sarah was asleep, after another long day.

After another hour of CNN he decided it was time for sleep. He would sleep it off and start anew in the morning. The police would get called to the house after reports of gunshots and would find the den, a burnt out mess. Reports would indicate that the lamp had been knocked over during the gunfight. Brandon wished it hadn?t come to this.

He headed up to the bedroom and became more weary with every step. He opened the door.

And found Sarah tied to the fan, by the throat, with her wrist slashed, and a message written in blood on the walls: Sleep with one eye open
I R tr00 Member of UG's Gain \/\/hores - don't pm gpderek09 to join unless you are truly worthy
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Quote by xifr
There is the possibility that I may have or may or may not have gone or not gone into the danger zone.


Quote by lespaulmarshall
I love you Joel
Last edited by joel_grieve at Aug 4, 2006,
#7
OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!!! U SICK FREAK, NOT SARAH!!!!!! COME ON DUDE, WHY SARAH... man, that sucks that she was killed... i actually teared up a little...
that was good man!!! I want more!!!!!!!!!
bananabananabanana terracotta banana terracotta terracotta *pie*

Quote by Bmm386
I think they should make a GTA paris in like 1795.
Your only goal is to feed your family and keep your horse alive.

Quote by I-AM-NOT-GOD
it hit the twin towers, not the pentagon, idiot
#8
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE, im really getting attached to this story. Its straight to the point unlike those other books that take ****in 20 chapters to get to someting interesting, MORE MORE MORE!!!
RED BLOOD HOT SUGAR CHILI SEX PEPPERS MAGIK
#10
hmmmm...needs a bit of refinement here and there, overall OK.
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Quote by SOADfreak6
myabe we all suck thats why were sitting at a computer desk talking **** thro the enternet lol


If not all of us, at least him.

<//////>~
#11
Chapter 3: If These Walls Could Talk

Brandon fought the cold winter night. He drove the shovel into the ground and slowly dug a grave. He knew Sarah deserved better than this. But with no obvious leads and the only suspect being him, Brandon had few choices.

So he dug the grave, in the bitter cold night. He didn?t say a word, nor did he hum a tune. Brandon barely exhaled until the grave was finished. He carried Sarah down stairs and buried her unceremoniously in the back yard.

He walked up stairs and cleaned up the mess. Seeing the writing on the wall made him remember his child hood, when similar messages started appearing in his fathers home?

After half an hour or so of mopping up blood Brandon made his way back down stairs to the TV, flicking it on to CNN. He poured himself a scotch and wished for something better. The late night report screamed facts about the latest lot of terrorist bombing in Kuwait or Iraq or one of the middle-eastern countries Brandon didn?t give a **** about. He began to drift off into sleep and paused at deep thought.

Something similar had happened at his father place he whispered to himself. He paused and tried to remember. He had been seven when they first moved. His father said it was because he needed a place closer to work, but Brandon had always been suspicious about it. He briefly recalled seeing similar messages scratched into the house, but never having pets killed?nor family members. At least not at that house.

No that began to happen a lot further down the list of houses. But Brandon was tired and decided he would discuss it to himself another day. Brandon didn?t make it to the bedroom, but instead fell asleep on his recliner. No longer listening to CNN, but now listening to whatever music was in his CD player. He often wondered how he slept through the hours of metal being played, but like every day, there was always something else at hand.

Brandon awoke in a clumsy stupor. Barely awake he walked into the kitchen, still nursing his desert eagle. He poured himself a coffee and finally put the gun down. He started to relax after once more feeling the cold embrace of death. Once more dug a cold grave on a colder night. He shook his thoughts aside. He needed to focus. He needed to escape.

Sure enough they would come looking. Just like they always did. But he wouldn?t be there. He?d be long gone. He packed up his possessions and hurled them into the back of his car. It?d be a long trip, but hopefully he could find some salvation in home.

?Home? Brandon nearly chanted. He felt happier after saying something. It?d been a long night.

He set out on the road, leaving his house behind him, leaving Sarah behind him. With Opeth serenading his ears, the trip seemed like a breeze. Barely any traffic. Not followed. Not even nearly.

And then he saw it.

Chapter 4: Home

He casually strolled up the drive of the house he used to call home. He guessed now he?d have to start calling it home again, it was the only place that truly felt like home.

After his fathers death his mother had remarried and had more children. His brother Craig, lived on the other side of the country, so with no grandkids she felt she needed to hear the sound of small feet dancing around the house. And so she did. 2 children, named Jack and Sam, both boys. Aged seven and five respectively. They always loved to see Brandon. They loved having some entertainment.

He strolled towards the door. He knocked once, one solitary knock. He heard the sound of tiny feet, he heard his mother? voice. Ushering the children towards the door.

A voice called out from the back of the house. It was Steve. Brandon?s father in law.

?Who is it Cath?? he called out. His voice was deep, similar to that of Johnny Cash. Hell, Steve even played guitar, but that was a story for another day.

She opened the door and immediately rushed forward to hug Brandon.

?Brandon, it?s been so long? she said, mustering up the kind of love and affection that only a mother can.

He remained silent. He tried to soak up the moment, to become lost and hopefully just fade away. He didn?t though, he was brought back by the sounds of children?s laughter.

?I?m glad to be back? he said at last. ?Mum, I need a place to stay??

They sat around the table eating dinner, the kids off watching TV.

?So you left Sarah?? asked Steve. He was naturally shocked. Unlike most fathers in law, Brandon actually liked Steve.

?Yeah? he lied, trying to fake the anguish in his voice. He thought of her corpse hanging from the fan. ?She hadn?t been faithful?
Ever word stabbed at him like a thousand knives. She didn?t deserve this. To be murdered and have her name dragged through the mud. He persevered.

The table went silent. His mother and exchanged a solemn look and continued to eat dinner. Of course they would be more than happy for him to stay, for as long as he wants.

He made his way up to bed after another forced conversation and for once, felt at home, felt safe. He?d still made a point to put his guns under his bed. He knew Steve was a hunting man, and at 50 years old, Steve was still in prime shape for hunting. An Ex-military man, Steve was 6?2? and solid. And a mean shot. Or so Brandon had heard. He knew Steve would have guns and in the event of a break in, Steve would be up and raring before Brandon, but the guns provided security. Exactly what Brandon wanted.


theres chapter 3 and about half of 4
I R tr00 Member of UG's Gain \/\/hores - don't pm gpderek09 to join unless you are truly worthy
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Quote by xifr
There is the possibility that I may have or may or may not have gone or not gone into the danger zone.


Quote by lespaulmarshall
I love you Joel
#12
noice finish of that chapter mate
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#14
the chapters sorta vary in length....meh artistic license . i end em where it fits
I R tr00 Member of UG's Gain \/\/hores - don't pm gpderek09 to join unless you are truly worthy
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Quote by xifr
There is the possibility that I may have or may or may not have gone or not gone into the danger zone.


Quote by lespaulmarshall
I love you Joel
#15
y'know, and I generally dont like advising this, I really think you need a prologue, or at least something to that effect to introduce the context (setting and characters), possibly just have him run through a normal day, the more contrast the better. Overall though, good work and I wanna know what happens. Just maybe revise for flow and repetition of phrases and you'll be set, good basic, well, base.

#16
yeah, a normal story would have a prologue and such, but i've got a prologue of sorts (i couldn't post it, didn't fit with my first chapter, too big) its just his start of the day and em referring to him as john doe. but this is my book, so i'm trying to serparate my self from normal novels i guess. but thanks for reading, i really appreciate it, its makes the headaches from staring at the screen wirth it.
I R tr00 Member of UG's Gain \/\/hores - don't pm gpderek09 to join unless you are truly worthy
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Quote by xifr
There is the possibility that I may have or may or may not have gone or not gone into the danger zone.


Quote by lespaulmarshall
I love you Joel
#17
more.
bananabananabanana terracotta banana terracotta terracotta *pie*

Quote by Bmm386
I think they should make a GTA paris in like 1795.
Your only goal is to feed your family and keep your horse alive.

Quote by I-AM-NOT-GOD
it hit the twin towers, not the pentagon, idiot
#18
me wantey more more, pLEASE ME AND GREN MACHINE are wanting it so badly right now you know. maybe I should right the next chapters
yeah get a little bita vampires, ressurection goin on in there
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#19
settle down. i'll write some more tonite. i've been abit busy....if i had holidays it'd be finished by now....
I R tr00 Member of UG's Gain \/\/hores - don't pm gpderek09 to join unless you are truly worthy
www.purevolume.com/mordecaiaus
Quote by xifr
There is the possibility that I may have or may or may not have gone or not gone into the danger zone.


Quote by lespaulmarshall
I love you Joel
#20
it's quite good so far.

to be honest, i enjoyed it more than the Michael Crichton novel i read about a week back

so its really good

keep it up
ok, yeah. my name is silly because I signed up when I was 13.

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