Re: Chapter 1, Enquiring Minds Wanna Be real apin-in-the-fandago-buttinskis and ask questions about your story, please forgive, I'm really really interested, that's all


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Posted by Diana on October 30, 2000 at 19:19:11:

In Reply to: Chapter 1 posted by C. Giddings on October 30, 2000 at 11:56:24:

Posted by C. Giddings on October 30, 2000 at 11:56:24:

"Forgotten Ghosts"

Malcom O'Conner would never have gotten drunk if he had known what was going to happen. Sure, it was 1989, and the homeless were in greater numbers than any other time in our history. "So what that I live in a cardboard box under the Bay Bridge?", thought Malcom as he took a pull from his bottle.

(Just a curious thought--what was he drinking? Gallo, thunderbird, really cheap Monarch rum?)

He kept drinking, and eventually was wasted.

(What did he think about during this period of time? How he got so down-n-out, how cold the concrete was on his butt, how he used to be a software Beta-tester...)

As he lay on back, completely passed out, a shadow fell over him.

"Let's take this one."

"Are you nuts? He's a freakin' wino!"

"Look, he's still got a pair, right? That's all we need."

"Whatever, but if he wakes up puking, I'm going put a cap in his ass."

The two men bent over Malcom, picked him up and carried him to the back of a white van, marked with a logo that said "Motion Technology, Inc."

On the other side of San Francisco, twenty-three year old Mary Haun was lameting her life. Although the daughter of a wealthy Asian businessman,

(I'd like to know if he's legit or a druglord or what.)
Mary was simply dissatified with life. Laying in her room, she began to complain to herself about how horrible her life was.

(I would like to hear her complain. I don't know this person, but I'd like to hear something like "...and Gary won't leave COLLEGE to get a JOB so he can buy a house and MARRY ME, him and his rat-damned RESEARCH..."

About the same time that Malcom passed out, there was a knock on her door. Both of Mary's parents were away at the time, so she went to answer the knock. She never made out of her room. As she opened the door to her room, a large man, clothed in black (author's note: what else do bad guys wear?)

(Golf plaids. OK, just smack me...)

stepped in front of her. Mary tried to scream, but the man had already clubbed her with the butt of his gun. The man dragged her downstairs, to the man waiting at the front door, to a van marked with "Motion Technology, Inc."




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