Well, for starters, it's good to separate thoughts from narration. Italicizing or even quoting thoughts can really assist the reader in determining what they're reading. Check your grammar, and just to be certain, your spelling, too. Something that helped me early on was writing the post in Word.
On that note, if you're using Mozilla, it would probably still be a good idea to copy and paste to a Word document (or similar word processing program) and check. Mozilla's spell check doesn't recognize some words as properly spelled, like "dialogue."
For thoughts of cursing, like your third paragraph (or fourth, depending on how you look at it), it's probably better to simply leave "An imaginative string of expletives" up to the reader to figure out for him/herself. Either that, or play with the automatic censor, turning the "[censored]" into alternatives or lower-impact curses. [Frig], [butt], [very bad word], [jerk], and [expletive deleted], are examples of what I enjoy using.
You tended to overuse pronouns, but I suppose that can be forgiven in an introductory "chapter" ("post" just seems wrong for a chronicle). You did keep to one character for the most part, after all.
Your actions were descriptive. I really appreciated that. I could almost feel what the character was feeling.
That's about what I've got. Keep at it, this definitely has some potential.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
ha... that is what i get for posting late(in my timezone anyhow) indeed the bad words need to be reworked... Will rework this one and re-format future ones for easier reading.
compliments and input appreciated
A story in black
By AlexEss
It is said that every legend begins with a single word. If so then the legend of Black 11 can be said to start with the word joy, not a word you would expect to launch a legend on but the fact is that the young boy by the name of Frank Hatamoto a born and bred army brat, had a happy youth and his split heritage was not something he cared about. He had a close knit group of friends and no real need to prove him self outside this. That all changed when he hit the teens.
To be honest it was not to strange, he was just lashing out and finding his place. But in doing that he fell in with a bad crowd and soon he was mixed up in things far above his head and he was basically fighting for his life.
15 looking at 20
Bad... bad bad bad. He thought as he was running towards the door. The dark warehouse was lit up by random bursts of gunfire and he could hear voices mixed with screams of pain. He darted in behind a crate as he tried to make sense of what had happened, it was supposed to be a simple job just in and out, a walk in the park. Black Talon Gang was his new home and when they got the news that a large shipment of electronics had landed in Independence Port and was keep in a low security warehouse he had been happy to lend a hand. In his mind it would be the gateway in to the acceptance he sough from the older guys in the gang. He should have known it was to good to be true.
A bullet slammed in to the crate he was hiding behind and he could almost feel the wood splintering, he could also almost taste the fear that rose in him. Then it all went quiet, very quiet. He could hear his own heart beating and the slow but heavy footfall of a pair of expensive Italian shoes. Something grabs him by the neck and it feel like a steel clamp had closed. As he was lifted up the face of the man who caught him came in to view, he also understood why things had gone so wrong. A underboss of the Family crime-gang.
Lets pause here for a second and make it clear just how deep in the dung I am. I just broke in to a warehouse owned by the Family with the intent of stealing everything not bolted down or nailed to the wall, on second though we were probably end up stealing that too. And as we were loading our trucks with the good stuff all hell broke loose. Before we knew it the place was swarming with Family goons with guns, I did the least heroic thing you could. I ran and I ran fast like the wind, ran towards the exit and towards freedom perhaps? But as you know by now I did not reach freedom, instead I ended up hanging by the neck a good 30 centimeters of the floor. Now this would be a bad situation for anyone but you see these guys are hard as rock so it was not like I had any chance of kicking my way out. Well lets get back to the action shall we.
Dead mans grip
As the last breath was choked out of him Frank saw a shadow, something moving out of the corner of his eye. The next thing he saw was surprisingly enough not the last darkness but the silver and crimson of a blade and the surprise and pain of his captor as the table turned in the most unexpected way. The shadow became solid as Frank once again could take a full breath. In front of him stood a man garbed from head to toe in black and purple body armor and carrying a slender blade that he with one smooth motion withdrew from the dying gangster, flicking the blood from it and sheathing it. Then he was gone again. As Frank tore free from the dead mans grip and looked around he was alone amongst the dead gangers and gangsters. Making a quick escape fate once again got in his way as a dying mans last act sent a bullet in to his shoulder and he staggered out in to the bright daylight bleeding and in more pain then ever before. He managed to make it to a drainpipe before he collapsed
more to come
please do comment. and of you feel it can omprove do leave a tip
"edited for spelling and some gramar, prolly some nasty ones left"