Chapter 4: The Captains’ Fall

Chapter 4 has been posted, and I suppose you can all guess that it is a sad one.  It is also pretty short, my apologies.  This chapter is one that I am looking for the most critique on because it is short and I feel like these is more to tell, but I don’t know where to expand.  I don’t want it to drag on, but something just feels off to me.  Critique either on the blog or on goodreads very much appreciated.  Find the link here.

In other news, I am reading a new book, and it is fabulous! J.J. Harkin’s apocalyptic story Angels of Apocalypse is poetic, compelling, and fantastical.  And I’m not even past chapter 6 yet!  His narration is just entrancing.  I can’t wait to finish it!  Be ready for a full review in the coming days.

I am going to be VERY busy the next couple days.  That includes today, but I’m giving myself a break and calming down with some writing before bed.  And on that note, I do believe it’s time for some flash fiction writing!  So here to entertain and shock you, here are Luke and Rog again, with another adventure of String Warping for Homosexuals.  And please, if you enjoyed the first installment, please go to this link and vote for #91!

“Rog… Where the hell did you put us this time?”  Luke’s white frill-collar shirt and purple-pink plaid pants were no disguise for his strength.  His grip had already started to cut off Rog’s arm circulation.

He hissed at his perpetually panic-stricken companion.  It was space-black, and even the glow of the warper around his neck seemed to be stifled by the darkness.

“Don’t you shush me, Roger Winkler, I told you to let me try warping us instead of you just guessing around, but no, you just jump us off again and now we’re who kno-”

“Luke! We don’t know what’s out there.  Just keep quiet, I’m going to warp us somewhere we can at least see.”

A few seconds of fiddling with the settings was not enough.  Out of the dark all around them came an ear-rending screech, piercing through them and nearly bringing Luke to break Rog’s arm.  Before Luke got the breath to scream at Rog again, they were surrounded by light… and men.  All in what seemed to be traditional Aboriginal outfits from Old Australia, all with warpers around their necks, and all with old-fashioned weapons, dripping with blood, and all pointed at Rog.

Oh noes!  Well now we know (sorta) where the wound came from in the first installment, but still… what in the world is going on?!  And really, Luke, white frill and plaid pants?  If you’re going to pick up the President of Scotland (don’t yell at me, I know it’s not president over there, this is a different universe, so nyah), at least make it a purple-pink plaid kilt. 😀  Until next time kiddies! Enjoy the new reads, and as always PLEASE CRITIQUE YOUR WRITER! (it’s like tipping your awesome waiter who gave you a free drink, only it’s free to critique me ^_^)

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