Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Need some feedback please...

So I'm working on something and I'd really appreciate it if you would read this little bit and let me know what you think. I feel a little investment in the story and character, but I want to know if after reading this bit, you'd want to read more.

Thanks in advance. I look forward to hearing from you.

The thick smoke lodged in his throat, stopping his breath. The screams of the dying and frightened echoed in the dim light filtering through the blackness. His heavy eyes drooped and he knew that slipping into the depths of unconsciousness would be as easy as closing them only once.
Sinon Cavenaugh sat up in bed, the echo of Avery's scream still thumping in his brain. He ran his hands roughly through the thick auburn hair he'd inherited from some long-dead ancestor and swung his legs out of bed.
Three years after his wife and son died in the first of Agro's riots, Sin, as he was known to his friends and enemies, still woke to their screams nearly every morning. Only the fact that he was still working to find the man who started the war in which they had died kept him from putting a bullet in his head and joining them.
Sin shook himself and headed for the shower. The scalding water washed away the last of the nightmare, but not the pain that remained from that day. As he washed, Sin ran through the litany of tales for each scar. Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia, Khatan City.
The last, a long and jagged line which ran from the top of his right hip to the inside of his right knee, was the most painful for many reasons. As the newest, this scar still ached. As the reason he hadn't been able to save his wife and child, this scar screamed with agony.
The phone rang while he was shaving and Sin swore as he nicked himself.
"What?" he bellowed.
"Dude, you really need to find a way to calm down," Jimmy Brant said, laughing. "I just called to see if you needed a ride to the office today."
"Damn, yeah, I do, Jimmy. The jeep went belly up last night and I can't get it to the shop until next week."
"Then no worries, my original Sin brother, your chariot will await you in ten minutes."
"Thanks," Sin grunted and ended the call. Jimmy was a morning person. Sin hated morning people.
Sin hurried to throw on his uniform. The Kevlar vest was fraying on the shoulders, but it was far too comfortable and too old of a friend or him to consider replacing. The damned suit and silk tie his employer insisted on were another story. He'd be just as happy to throw them on the next riot fire he saw.
With one whispered "I love you," directed at the photograph of the lovely blonde woman and small ginger boy, Sin shut the bedroom door and went to wait for Jimmy.