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Old 03-12-2017, 07:33 PM
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bluewpc (Offline)
The Next Bard
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Join Date: Oct 2016
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A few suggestions. Id highlight them in red but I guess we don't rate that.

I was sitting at the little kids picnic table when the gunshots went off. Luckily, the kids had all been shipped to a babysitter's for the party. It was adults only.

Drop the comma.

I immediately tried to duck down under the plastic table top but my body and legs wouldn't both fit. Besides, could molded plastic stop a bullet anyway?

Immediately I ducked down under the plastic table top but my legs and body wouldnt fit both. Besides, could molded plastic stop a bullet anyways?

Virginia was here somewhere but I couldn't see her. I pulled myself out from under the Little Tykes, unentangling my legs, and running backwards on my arms like a crab.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Another three rounds. Shit!

Three dull pops sounded. Shit!

I'd stopped counting at a dozen beers, and some guy had come by with a joint earlier—I thought his name was Ernest, or maybe Evan? I couldn't see him either. Maybe he was dead.

I caught my reflection in the Arcadia door and rolled onto my belly and soldier-crawled on my elbows across the concrete, sliding down a gravel drop into the side yard I didn't know existed. Another volley sounded.

I saw tortured mutilated twisting falling bodies, splatting onto the dry concrete all around me in my mind. I heard their voices, filtered through the endless delay pedal of fear and stoning—echoing across my brain—ricocheting around my full skull like popcorn popping: 'Pop! Pop! Pop! Another volley. Fuck!

Id rework this paragraph. As you use the same type of sentence consecutively three times wherein the sentence ends twice with things resounding in his pate and the third in the middle: "...around me in my mind/echoing across my brain/richocheting around my full skull."

There was a vee shaped run, a ravine with a light at one end and darkness at the other. I was blurry, damn blurry. My glasses had fallen off and without them I couldn't see shit. I looked down each path. Light or dark? Light or dark?

I chose light.

There was movement that way, what I presumed to be people escaping a massacre. I wasn't sure. I wanted to get up and run but was afraid to leave the dirt. It's a funny feeling when you stand up and your head becomes a possible target.

I crawled quickly to the light and found a small crowd gathering around what was—Virginia? Wearing goggles and ear muffs, and holding a small caliber pistol. She turned around, her long brown hair swinging. "Brian? what are you doing down there?"

"I—uh... I..." was what I said.

"The Revers are teaching me how to shoot a pistol! You see out there, the little white steel target? There, past the farthest fence, on the hill," she said. She was so happy. "I've hit it three times! It makes a big ping!"

The irony of this piece...god one would think he'd never escape a real massacre...
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