Hot Heart does writing

[Hot Heart]

I know I've posted my stuff before but this is different. And maybe it'll get read if it's not in a thread with a title that can mean 'rubbish' or 'penis'

 

Anyway, MasterDex's writing reminded me that I had started on a bit of a novel myself, a couple of years ago on my old laptop. I found it and figured I'd put it on here for a bit of feedback. I can tell my writing has improved and how I might make this a bit better but I won't say anything in case it influences others.

 

This was actually part of a larger story arc I had been planning but had decided I'd focus on shorter stories to establish the world beforehand. The first of which, would have included one of the characters here. Was thinking I might pick that back up since I've not got much else going on.

 

 

 

Burdock knew the old man slumped over the bar wasn’t local. Not that he didn’t resemble one of Maidengate’s many drunks, nor that he knew every inhabitant of this small town. To the contrary; despite having lived there his whole life, Burdock did not wish to become embroiled in the lives of his neighbours. No. This man had the look of an outsider. This wasn't routine, he was not drinking as a matter of course: he was drinking to forget. He was also not the only newcomer.

Tucked away in a dimly-lit corner of the tavern, he had noticed another stranger. But this man made no effort to blend in. Much younger than the first, he was well-dressed, especially so by Maidengate standards. He sat alone, drinking. Drinking and watching. Burdock had already met his gaze, sensing only that this man was not afraid of him. This relaxed arrogance played on Burdock’s mind. In his experience, these were the most dangerous of men: confidence matched by a coolness of thought and appearance. Then there was the gun.

The man had a shortsword; that didn’t bother Burdock so much. But the gun, a revolver, was a different matter. As a town guard, he was an accomplished enough swordsman, but a bullet was not something you could stop so easily. Thankfully, such weapons were new to the world of Jarduin and especially uncommon in Juras. He had heard tales of the far-off plains of Lyone, where the gun was a way of life for the bandits and gentry alike; not that Burdock believed such a great distinction existed when it came down to it. Burdock knew that anyone who brought a gun to his quiet town meant serious business. Business in which he felt he had to get involved.

He probably should have been scared. After all, drawing and firing a revolver was only a matter of seconds. But he could sense this was not a man who acted so impulsively.

'Evening, sir.' There it was again, that same look in the stranger’s eyes. It seemed to stick there for a moment too long before matching the genial smile.

'Evening to you', the man raised his glass.

Burdock could tell that his true intention was transparent so cut to the chase. 'I think you’d better leave.'

'And whose thoughts do I have the privilege of hearing?'

Instead of a response, Burdock chose to stare him down. The man knew resisting was pointless but was in no rush to finish his drink before departing, once again raising a glass to Burdock in the process. He left without further incident, only nodding courteously towards the tavern's owner, Ben, on his way out.

'Oi!' Ben moaned. 'You’re supposed to be keeping the town safe, not driving business away.'

'I suppose a drunk with a gun is perfectly safe?'

He shrugged, as the false tension broke. 'Depends how drunk they are, I guess.'

Burdock laughed. Ben had always been the same. A loud, happy fellow; not too bright but with a kind spirit. His substantial body mass, a great deal of it muscle, was enough to keep most people on his good side yet it was his overtly jovial nature that had managed to warm through even Burdock's cool exterior.

'You ought to show people more respect.'

The words caught Burdock by surprise. He had not expected to hear anything from the old, dishevelled man at the bar, let alone something intelligible.

'I ought to show you the door, codger.'

'There you go again,' the stranger turned to fix his stare on this arrogant, young man. 'Treat folks with some respect, you might see a little back.'

Burdock froze. More invective had been set to spill forth but the words hung there in his mouth. Behind this stranger's harsh wrinkles and grey beard, he could see the faded blue eyes so full of sorrow. He did not know the man, but one glance into those eyes told of a lifetime of regret and loss. At once, his anger had dissipated and been replaced with an almost tranquil feeling. An empty feeling. Had he known better, he might have suspected sorcery was involved.

'Sit down, son,' the old man's voice sounded inside his head now. 'Let me tell you a story.'

As Burdock pulled his head away a buzz shot through his body. His thoughts swimming, he had only one impulse: get away. Without another word, he moved towards the door and fumbled his way outside.

The cold night air filled his lungs, snapping his senses back to life. A minute later, he had regained his composure and turned his mind to the younger stranger he had evicted from the tavern. He approached some of the town's other guards to inquire. A few short conversations later appeared to suggest he had left Maidengate or not been seen at all. Despite assurances that the armed man couldn't possibly overpower them all, this worried Burdock.

He spent the next couple of hours patrolling the town, searching for any sign the man. He had been round the houses, and past the market, looking haunted in its absence of life, right up to the church, standing proud above it all. Most of the residents were already tucked away in their homes, while others had been in the tavern; Maidengate's only drinking hole and one Burdock dared not enter again that evening. A few of the people stumbling back from there had passed Burdock, giving him puzzled looks. Maidengate was a humble town that had never experienced much in the way of trouble; the guards serving to watch the perimeter more than anything else. Given Burdock's usual preference for isolation, his snooping around had obviously caused some concern. He told himself he was worrying over nothing but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. The old man's piercing eyes had unsettled him, that was for certain. That sad but welcoming voice echoed in his head once more. 'Let me tell you a story.'

As he walked the same route once more, his mind began to drift. The next thing he knew, there was a gunshot.

 

 

So, yeah, welcome to any critique, tips, feedback and whatever.

[TheFlyingGerbil]

I like the western vibe, makes it a bit different from the usual medievalish fare.

 

The name Jarduin - and to a lesser extent Juras - sounds fantastical which doesn't gel with the characters' names and the town name which sound very much rooted in our world, very English.

 

I like the dialogue - too many people seem to make it too formal which is not how people speak, yours seems more believable. More generally the style of writing is easy to read, which is obviously a good thing - I wouldn't find it a daunting read.

 

The description of patrolling around for hours, a market and going up to the church standing over the town and not knowing everyone there makes it sound quite large (a few thousand people, maybe?), so it seems weird there would be only one tavern - pretty much the first thing any town would have two of is a pub. It just means I have trouble envisioning the place. I'm sure in longer segment it would become clearer and it would be clearer what sort of world it is etc. so I doubt it is somethign to worry about, just something to think about.

 

Overall though I definitely liked it and if I read it as a sample of a whole novel or short story I would more than likely be happy to buy it as It made me want to know more about the characters which is well done for such a short snippet.

[Hot Heart]

Thanks for timing the time to read it and leave comments. I think those are all valid points.

 

I'm glad that vibe came across. I think I was trying to capture a mixture of the Roland Deschain setting in The Dark Tower (King Arthur-type stuff but with gunslingers) and the Witcher's 'grittier' style of fantasy (which probably prompted the writing actually). Reading it again, I was concerned that maybe that doesn't come across so well unless you make it explicit but I didn't want it all front-loaded. Burdock is ignorant, therefore, so is the reader.

 

I see what you're saying about the place names. Not sure how I wound up with those since I'd gone for some faux-English/British names elsewhere. I would build a world with the expected regional differences and borrow other cultural bits, but this would definitely be more like Britain.

 

I'm glad you said something about the actual town. I didn't notice anything myself but that's probably because it's already 'mapped out' in my head. It was meant to just be fairly modest (did I call it humble at one point?) and be nothing more than houses, a few shops, a tavern and a church. Burdock would not know everyone because he's an unsociable misery guts and patrolling for hours was meant to be him walking around anxiously. I think I could make this all a lot clearer and put a bit more effort into establishing the place (even if I'm going to ditch it shortly after).