hmm i was thinking of keeping it up and adding a 3 word post since it went from one to two but i must say the description in this was wonderful, I enjoy how well you described the effort it took to suppress the change and how difficult it was while he still kept his sense. Keep it up!

Thanks, Grayle
And you, too Lycan and fuzzball, and werer!
I know I should add more meat to this segment, but I'm not big on mushieness. It saps the storyline...or does it?

***

Olivia sat in the cold, stark confines of her prison cell. She shivered from the chill, watching as plumes of fog dispersed from her ragged and uneven breathing. Her lungs ached from inhaling the chilled air and her fingers were numb. Blood was crusted around her wrists from the serrated silver shackles biting into her skin. She could still feel the corrosive metal eating away at her flesh and the poison filling her veins. Because of it, any movement was an arduous task and she didn’t move unless necessary. All she could do was breathe and blink.

She exhaled sharply and averted her attention to the door in front of her. It was composed of nearly impenetrable steel with a small window in the hub of the door. She could see the hallway through it. It was equally dark. The metal walls were rusted and solidified with ice. It was only a matter of time before she’d see Crowell’s penetrating blue eyes gazing through the window, revealing her impending demise. It’s not that she feared death, but she feared not having finished the task she had set out to do. And her kin. She blinked away hot tears at the thought. She presumed Martina to be dead, but Gregory and Lottamay she was uncertain of.

She shut her eyes, the vivid recollection of the previous night’s events reeling though her mind. They had exploded from the shadows before she could react. The tranquilizers were swift and blackness quickly consumed her. But before that happened, she remembered lying on the pavement, gazing into the shadows. She spotted Jason. He was in plain sight of the soldiers, and yet they did not react to his presence. She remembered the flicker of remorse in his eyes as she gazed at him, almost as if in a silent apology. She bit her lip and clenched her fist, ignoring the pain that seared up her arm. He had betrayed them.

Her mind flickered to Alex. He had been innocent, and yet she hadn’t trusted him. She could usually discern when people were honest, but because of the hefty loss, she was disoriented and unable to distinguish. Perhaps if she had heeded Alex’s warning, she could have avoided capture. Though she was initially disgusted by Alex’s ignorant demeanour, she respected his integrity for his friend, conveying true kinship.
She kept her knees to her chest to avoid heat loss and rested her jaw on her knees. Her skin was cold and she was half-naked – clothed in little more than a robe. She sighed, hoping all was well with Alex.

I like this, Punx.
  I like how you aren't forgetting the other characters of the story, but you're willing to 'check in on them' every so often. You did the same with Steven and also Crowell periodically. Due to your story's complexity, it helps the reader keep track of all that's happening.
  With my story, focusing solely on the viewpoints and thoughts of one character, it limits how much the reader knows. They only know how much the main character does. In other words, my story is 3rd person limited whereas yours is told in 3rd person omniscient. With 3rd person omniscient, keeping tabs on the other characters is often times vital for the reader to feel the story is complete, so I really appreciate your attention to that necessity.

  As to the segment itself, I thought it was wonderful; even though it's short, there's a lot more to this segment than just words. I appreciated the detail about the silver shackles and how Olivia is dealing with them practically. I also like how she's had time to think about matters at hand - I mean, when locked up, all there is to do is think and sleep. As an older werewolf, I liked how she wisely turned to rehashing the recent events to try to understand them, and has also reached the correct conclusion on her own.

  Very well done, Punx! Bring on more when you can, please!

Last edited by Grayle (2008-07-21 12:21:01)

Wow, I didn't think I'd be getting horribly positive feedback. Thank you!
Grayle, you always know how to find the deeper meaning in all stories. I wish I had such a gift.
What I like about your viewpoint is you keep the audience guessing as to what will happen next.

Anyways, I have Monday and Tuesday off, so I'll definately have more up soon, Fuzzball. Thank you! And no need to apologize. I definately agree with you!

I may have some more tomorrow. You might just have to keep a look out for it

This is a great way of building anticipation - did the police get a call from the pawn Shop owner, or someone in the hotel? We have to wait and see...

  I also liked how Crowell is still focusing on Alex as his main problem. It's like he doesn't yet consider Janis and the article to be as big of a threat as it might turn out to be. Once Janis publishes the article, I think then he'll realize the trouble it will give him, but by that time it will practically be too late. Even so, his focusing on Alex at the cost of ignoring other things kinda fits his obsessive personality pretty well.

  Oh - those 2 sentences about the consequences of Janis writing the article could probably be merged with a little bit of tweaking, but it's up to you.

Great job yet again, Punx! We're ready for more when you are!

fuzzball1 wrote:

Great Job Punx! Honestly I Dont Find A Lot Of Reading Material That I Get Hooked To But This Is Different.
Now Grayle I Dont Mean To Be Nosey Or Anything Like That But Im Just Wondering. You Seem To Know A Lot About Books. Im Trying To Find Some Good Books.  Plus I Would Really Like To Read Some Stephen King. Any Suggestions?

Wow, thank you for the compliment. It means alot to me Thank you!

Well, here's a large segment I just finished. Sorry about the length. I promise they wont be this long from now on, I was just in the writing mood

Chapter 22
With what little reserves of energy remained, Alex forced himself to his knees, hoping to stagger to his feet and lunge from the window. However, his muscles, weakened by the silver fog, could do little for him.
A barricade of five soldiers approached, their guns aimed at Alex and their fingers curled around the trigger. Alex gazed at them descending from the fog like omens from hell, revealing his impending demise. Their indifferent expressions did little to ease the predicament. He detected no sympathy within their callous eyes.

Two men broke away from the others and they were now four feet from Alex.

Alex groaned and strained to get to his feet, but each attempt was futile. The two soldiers got to their knees, the scopes of their guns steadied on Alex. Alex cursed and scrambled to get to his feet – to flee through the window. However, before he could react, the two soldiers fired their rifles. Instead of bullets, two pieces of barbed silver shot from their weapons. They whistled through the air and connected against his flesh with a slap. The first harpoon-like bullet plunged into his shoulder, stopping short of the bone, gripping into the muscle and refusing to part. The other struck him in the abdomen with a solid thud. The two hooks were connected by a thin wire.

Volts of electricity exploded from the gun, entering Alex’s weakened and exposed flesh. His face contorted in agony, reddening from the lack of oxygen. His teeth clenched and every muscle in his body contracted from the voltage. His fists were clenched and his arms were flexed as a response to the electricity. Veins protruded from his arms and neck as he yowled in pain. The electricity intensified until he was certain he could take no more. Waves of agony lashed his body, nearly causing him to lose consciousness. He prayed for the pain to end – for the hooks to dislodge from his body and the corrosive air to dissipate. However, he had no such luck.

It seemed to last a lifetime as the pain increased. He growled and slammed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to ease. It did.
The electricity ceased, but the barbs remained fastened within Alex’s skin.

Alex’s fatigued muscles relaxed and his weary body slumped to the ground. His face struck the soft floor and he lay, breathing shallowly. His eyes were half closed and thoughts ceased to exist in his overwhelmed mind. With all of his energy reserves depleted, Alex remained motionless. His limbs were askew and his neck was positioned at an odd angle, but he didn’t care. He only wished for the pain of death to be swift. But he could never hope for such luck – not with Crowell.
He envisioned Crowell’s piercing blue pools and his mocking grin before the torture of death began. He could hear Crowell’s depraved chortle ringing through his skull and his smooth face wrinkle with joy.

A flicker of rage swelled in Alex’s chest. It flooded through his body, accelerated by the very thought of Crowell.

The five soldiers moved through the haze, communicating through hand gestures and whispers.
“We need to get him out of here as soon as possible. The police should be up any minute,� one soldier advised to his companions.

Through blurred and stinging vision, Alex watched as three silhouettes approached, their lumbering footfalls sounding like a thunderclap in his ears. The rage was consuming him, and he willingly allowed it to claim his weary body. A sinister darkness crept along his vision like black fog obscuring the sky. Within seconds, he was plunged into a sweet abyss.

The beast, propelled by the rage, staggered to its hands and knees. The soldiers shrieked in bewilderment and attempted to immobilize him once again.
Before they could react, the beast pried the prongs from his shoulder and abdomen, clenching its teeth from the pain that sliced through it. The grey carpets were stained scarlet as the useless prongs clattered to the ground.

With replenished energy, the beast staggered to its feet, its wide chest heaving with untamed fury. It felt not the pain tearing through its lungs, nor the residual throb of flesh wounds.

The five soldiers fumbled with their weapons, recoiling into the fog as they attempted to gain a better shot.
But the beast’s eyes glimmered gold and it licked its lips in anticipation for what was to come.
It closed its eyes and willed the shift, soon opening them with a malevolent gleam in its pitiless eyes.
The pops and squirms of muscle and bone were drowned out by the shrieks of soldiers.

While in mid-shift, the beast lurched forward as a soldier fired. The prong grazed the fur along its arm, but failed to hit the target. The first soldier attempted to withdraw, but he stumbled and staggered in the thick haze.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, the beast curled and sprang. The power of the lunge caused the room to tremor and the carpet to shred. The beast descended upon its victim in a whirl of fur. It slammed into the first soldier, causing both man and beast to hurl through the air. The soldier hit the plaster walls with a deafening thunderclap, the crunch of bones filling the air.
Taking mere seconds, the soldier gurgled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and blood issuing from his mouth as he fell motionless to the ground.

The remaining guards, petrified and shouting, extracted silver-bulleted pistols.

Unperturbed by the deadly weapons, the beast continued its ravenous hunt. It moved faster than the men could comprehend, the fog making it difficult for them to see. The beast relied on its hearing, drawing closer.
The soldiers fired their guns simultaneously and a barrage of silver bullets sprayed the air.

The beast dodged the lethal torrent of gunfire, hunching close to the ground where the fog was copious. The sound of gunfire was hampered by their silencer and all that was heard was bullets pelting the walls, television, and bed. Bullets punched holes in the bathroom door where the beast once stood. But it was gone in blur of speed, disappearing within the copious smog.

The beast could hear the men’s heartbeats slamming in his ears and their hesitant shuffling. They ceased their gunfire, their heads swivelling around the room in desperate search of the creature. They held their guns erect in front of them, prepared to fire.
However, the soft carpet masked the creature’s footfalls, and it moved unrestrained throughout the room in deep assessment of which opponent would be the wisest.

The soldier nearest to him had his flank exposed and his gun pointed elsewhere.
The best leisurely ascended upon his target, ensuring its footfalls were light and calculated. Though the burning gas prevented him from scenting his prey, he could sense the man’s fear through his demeanour. The pistol quivered slightly and his breath came out in rapid, uneven intervals. The fear was evident.

Crouching closer to the ground, the beast smiled wickedly as he struck. At once, it leapt to its feet, grasping the gun in one hand and the man’s uniform in the other. Before the other men could comprehend, the beast lunged from the soldier’s crosshairs and disappeared once again into the fog.
The men, bewildered, cocked their guns and peered wildly around the room. And saw nothing. They exchanged fearful glances, trying to compose themselves.

The soldier’s screams were muffled by a clawed hand grasping his face, the talons slicing into his cheeks. He winced and struggled against the grasp, but the crushing handhold refused to ease. He saw only the flash of ivory fangs and lupine eyes before a sinister darkness consumed him.

Blood dripping from its broad muzzle, the beast released its jaws from around his throat. Satisfied with the kill, it turned from the corner of the room to face the remaining assailants that were feet from its lethal fangs. A malicious grin exposed scarlet stained incisors and strings of crimson saliva dripped from its frothing maw.
It relished in the very thought wrapping his blood-stained teeth around their throat and hearing their futile screams clamouring in his ears.

The hair along his back hackled as it loped towards the remaining men. 
But the two men, squinting into the plumes of fog, spotted the oncoming danger. Their eyes widened in fear and they cursed audibly, redirecting their gunfire towards the beast.
Bullets whistled through the air as the beast lurched forwards, feinting to the left and right. The uncoordinated men continued their relentless hail of gunfire, but failed to strike the beast.

The beast collided heavily with the two men, its hefty and muscled body knocking both soldiers off their feet and gasping for air. The gun slipped from the one man’s clutch and was launched into oblivion.
Seizing the opportune moment, the beast grasped a handful of the man’s uniform and hurled him across the room. The soldier connected with the window, which immediately gave way. Screaming and writhing, the man hit the pavement with a resounding slap. The man’s cries died and the inhabitants below were showered with glass.

The beast could hear Alfred’s shrill voice shrieking to his fellow officers and ordering them to enter the vicinity. Numerous footfalls sounded as a hoard of police officers entered the building, ascending the stairs to Alex’s room.

The beast turned to its last victim, who was pinned beneath his grasp. He screeched as talons plunged through his clothing and into his arms. His face reddened from the lack of oxygen as the other hand was fastened around his throat.

He peered up into the relentless eyes of his would-be-killer, praying for a hasty death. But from the malevolent gleam in the beast’s eyes, he knew death would not come so easy. He could see the strings of saliva as the beast roared throatily. He gazed into the vast orifice in front of him and watched the glistening teeth near his incapacitated body. His arm was broken, and he was certain that several more of his ribs were also cracked, if not broken.

But as he gazed into the callous lupine eyes, he saw something flicker within the molten orbs. The nearing jaws recoiled and the vice-like grip eased from his throat. The creature appeared to be withdrawing. With his pulse still hammering in his skull, he watched with constricted breath as the beast backed away. Relief flooded his exhausted body, but he was still fearful of imminent death.

Despite his fears, the beast continued to recoil into the fog until all that remained was a dark shadow of its silhouette.

OMG!So glad I got to catch up,this is just such AMAZING work!I love it!

"The soldier’s screams were muffled by a clawed hand grasping his face, the talons slicing into his cheeks. He winced and struggled against the grasp, but the crushing handhold refused to ease. He saw only the flash of ivory fangs and lupine eyes before a sinister darkness consumed him."

This little bit though,written so perfectly and so full of actual pure emotions and fearfear,it gave me chills!Punx,you talent is endless and I cannot wait to see your published work on shelves,eagerly awaiting a lucky reader who decides to pick up one of the most amazing werewolf novels ever!

Thank you so very, very much for your words of encouragment. They've inspired me to keep going with this story throughout the duration of it.
It is because of you that I am where I am.

---
Alfred climbed the stairs two at a time, his pistol poised in front of him. His finger was pressed lightly against the trigger, but enough so that he could fire with ease if necessary. From the grotesque scene outside, he made his deduction that a gunfight would be imminent. Though fear lingered at the back of his mind, he was able to compose himself and respond accordingly to the situation.
He had encountered numerous similar cases in the past, and from years of repetition and experience, he no longer feared such situations, but dealt with them professionally. He only hoped his calm response would create an impression upon his fellow officers, for he could see the fear dancing in their eyes when facing dangerous tasks.

With slow, deliberate footsteps, he crept down the hallways in which Alex’s room was situated. He kept his back pressed against the wall, sliding along the smooth surface as he neared the doorway. He kept his pistol poised in front of his chest, his breath restricted, listening intently for any indication of gunfire or hostile noises. He was only feet from the entrance. But as he strode down the long stretch of empty hallway, he saw plumes of white fog rolling from the open doorway.

His brows furrowed in perplexity and he cautiously leaned forward to examine the doorway. His breath caught in his throat and a curse rolled from his lips. The door was completely severed from the frame and what scattered remains he could see were strewn about the floor.
He gripped his pistol tighter in his palms, pressing the back of his head against the drywall, in further preparation for a battle. He motioned for his men to crowd around him to back him up if necessary. He prayed his bullet-proof vest would sustain him.

The hoard of officers silently skulked to the police chief, awaiting further orders. But as Alfred gazed at the shattered remnants of the door and the potentially toxic gas spewing from the doorway, he knew it was best not to enter – not until he was certain. Motioning for his men to linger, Alfred prepared himself. Inhaling deeply and closing his eyes, memories briefly flashing on those he had left behind at home.

Then, with a surge of speed, he whipped around the doorway, situated at entrance of the room and gazing into the smog-filled compartment. A breeze of air flitted up his nose, burning his nostrils and trachea as it descended to his lungs. With a slight splutter and a putrid flavour upon his tongue, he came to his deduction. It was tear gas. Though relatively harmless, it caused searing pain to those who come in contact with it.
Surely the felon would be incapacitated from such concentrated tear gas.

He yelled through the thick sheath of gas, unable to see much besides the silhouette of fixtures around the room. “This is the police. We will be entering the vicinity and use extreme force if necessary. Do not try to flee. The building is surrounded.�

Straining to listen, he heard a shuffle to his left, near the corner of the room, only ten feet away. Instinctively, his gun whipped around to face the unseen noise. His breath was caught in his throat and his pistol was held, unmoving in a steadfast grip.

For moments, he heard nothing but faint scrabbling, like nails against hardwood. He squinted into the darkness and shouted again. “Get out with your hands on top of your head.�

Nothing.
He cursed and muttered into his radio, ensuring to keep his aim towards the close left corner. “I want my SWAT team with ventilators up here immediately!�
But he could speak no further as his eyes grew wide with bewilderment and his heart leapt from his chest. He felt coils of fear spring from his chest at the sight in front of him.

A dark figure, with only the black, hazy silhouette distinguishable, rose from the floor. It was only feet away and yet his eyes had difficulty discerning the moving mass. He spat a string of curses as a broad, wide chest rose, two triangular ears twitched and dog-shaped face swivelled his way. It was, by far, the largest being he had ever encountered. The peak of its ears touched the ceiling and its massive paw-like hands clenched periodically at its side. A ruffed tail flitted at its side as it stood on two legs, hunched slightly.

His pistol quivered in his hands and he recoiled from the foreign creature. He gasped as two lupine eyes blazed through the haze, the only identifiable features of the beast.

The beast’s massive chest heaved with anger...or uncertainty? He could not tell. But he continued to withdraw until he felt his back bump the hallway wall. And yet he stood in a stupor, marvelling in stricken terror as the beast moved. He flinched and sweat accrued on his forehead. He dared not move. Instead, his gaze remained transfixed on the shadowed creature.

The molten pools blinked with intelligence – unlike any other animal – before it turned its back on Alfred and loped towards the window. Its size decreased as the distance between the two increased.
He grimaced at the cacophony of shattering glass, watching intently as the silhouetted lunged through the already-broken window and disappeared.

He continued to gaze at the spot where it had disappeared until an officer roused him from his musings.
“Sir, are you alright?� A younger officer enquired.

Swallowing a hard lump in his throat, he blinked and nodded. “I think so,� it came out as a hoarse whisper.

“What did you see?� He pressed.

Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, Alfred replied. “Nothing.�

Thank you, Grayle *Hugs* You've been such a great support throughout my story Now here's the boring segment...sorry.

---

Alex’s paws thundered against the snow-encrusted alleyway. He was flickering in and out of consciousness, struggling to attain control. He remembered small flashes of memories as he regained control. A man’s bloodied and terrified face gazed at him in anticipation of death, his throat pinned to the ground and gas mask ripped from his face. Horror filled Alex at the consideration of killing the man. He could not allow the beast to kill him – not in cold blood.

Another flash of memories hit him like a freight train. He was gazing at a police officer through the doorway of the smog-filled room. The beast intended to murder him, but again, Alex intervened. He would not allow for another innocent human to die because of him. Only one person would die beneath his fangs...Crowell.

He had leapt through the shattered remnants of the window, grasping onto the side of the brick wall with his talons, preventing a forty foot descent. In two bounds, he scaled the building with unfathomable speed. The police could not comprehend whether it was a shadow or a fabrication of their imagination.

And now, his paws splashed in frigid puddles as he propelled himself away from danger. His limbs were shaky from the adrenaline and the struggle to maintain control, but he ignored it and persisted forward until he was far from enquiring eyes – and the soldiers’ radars. He ran until his muscles burned and he forced himself to stop in the hub of an alleyway. It was vacated, save for strewn plastic bags and scampering rats.

He regained his composure, steadying his breathing and closing his eyes as he shifted to his human form. It was relatively slow – he surmised from the over-excitement or the weakening effects of the gas. Whatever the cause, the shift was strenuous. He clenched his teeth together, feeling the last reserves of energy ebb from his already depleted body. His bones caused him pain and he winced and growled as they bubbled beneath his flesh.

And now, panting from exertion, Alex stood, unclothed in the frigid afternoon winter. His honey-hued skin quivered as a cold gentle breeze grazed his skin and wove through his hair. He inhaled the scents, noting that it would snow that evening. He could smell the shift of weather in the air, able to detect when or what would occur. As he did so, an irritating tickle descended down his neck, cascading down his back.

Instinctively, he brought his hand to the irritated area to relieve the itch. But as he did so, he felt a warm liquid substance coat his fingers. His brows furrowed in perplexity as he brought his hand in front of him. Scarlet liquid smeared his fingers. Then the pain began. A sharp pain rippled along his ear and he gasped in shock. From the pain, it felt as though his ear had been torn from his head, but as he examined the injury with his hand, he was relieved. He felt only a small portion at the tip of his ear missing. A silver bullet must have struck it.

Despite this, he was grateful that the bullet had missed his head. Crouching to the ground, he gathered a handful of snow and pressed it against his throbbing ear. He immediately pulled away from the pain that sliced along his skull, but forced it against his wound. Within moments, the wound was numb and the bleeding had ceased. Satisfied, he got back to his feet.   

But he still had a dilemma – he was naked. Raking his brain for ideas, he came to a ridiculous conclusion. Without delay, he disregarded the notion. However, he saw no other alternative. He still had to walk amongst humans as a man, so he needed to blend in. ‘Clothing might help,’ he mused internally.
Moments passed as he contemplated the idea, milling the plan through his mind. He felt a pang of regret twist in his gut from the consideration of once-again stealing, but there was no other option.

Exhaling sharply and muttering a curse, he hoped he had enough energy to shift once again. As it had been earlier, the shift was arduous, but he managed to acquire his wolf form. Though vastly larger than any wolf, he hoped it would allow him to blend in with his surroundings, so long as he played the part. His eyes scoured the street in front of him. It was bustling with activity and he grimaced. Nonetheless, he began to lope to the sidewalk and commence down the streets in search of what he was seeking.

He ambled down two streets and turned a corner until he found the desirable location – a launder mat. He sighed and sauntered toward the ramshackle building, which was situated alongside numerous other businesses. The cars came in small trickles and there were fewer people, as it was closer to a residential area.

He did his best to look inconspicuous and trotted past a string of traffic until he entered the parking lot. It was nearly uninhabited, but as he gazed through the glass windows, he saw several people milling through the store, some folding their clothes, while others sat impatiently, gazing at out-dated walls. 
Alex persisted forwards until he sat beside the shop’s doors, awaiting the opportunity to proceed. In the mean time, he allowed his tongue to loll from his jowls and sat intently on his haunches – appearing as dog-like as was possible. The humans didn’t take notice of the large carnivore, but Alex was certain that if a dog strolled by, the reaction would be different. They were able to detect his presence and for a reason unbeknown to him, they acted violently.

His apprehension was kept at bay as no dogs were visible.
Alex’s ears twitched back and he sniffed the air. He could hear the churning of washing machines and the shuffling of feet scraping the floor. He could smell the detergent and the human bodies, detecting when they neared the door. 

He followed a distinctive scraping of footfalls near the door, his muscles clenching in anticipation. Then, the door squealed open as a man prepared to exit the shop.
However, in a whirl of speed, Alex deserted his post and bolted towards the open door. His shoulder collided with the man’s legs as he passed.

The man shrieked and stumbled, falling to the ground. As Alex entered, the usually silent mass of scattered people screamed. A torrent of shouts and shrill screams pounded Alex’s ear drums, disorientating him. He lurched forward, his claws scrabbling on the floor in a futile attempt to gain purchase.

He tried to avoid an oncoming machine, but his flank struck the side. The washing machine roared as it quivered from side to side, spewing clothing onto the floor. Seizing the opportunity, Alex fastened his jaws around a heap of clothing and retraced his route outside.
Terrified spectators leapt out of the way, their eyes wild with fear. Alex had no intention of harming them.

He reached the door, watching the fallen man scurry to his hands and knees, crawling away as he attempted to get to his feet. In a surge of speed, Alex leapt over the fallen man and to the outside world. Adrenaline and guilt pulsed through his veins, propelling him to safety.

fuzzball1 wrote:

Cool Part. It Really Wasnt Boring At All.
How Much More Do You Have To Do In The Story?

Thank you. I'm glad to know it's not boring, though I still feel it's kindda silly and breaks the overall mood I had set.
I have about 30 more pages left...or three more chapters. It's not alot, but I may surprise myself and continue to expand on it.

I loved that section!It was a nice change,not to severe,but smoothly done indeed.Only boutn three more chapters?Exciting stuff,can't wait for more?

Juicy Sweat Pants. Eeeww.

  I appreciate the realism you added to this scene - at least he found something he could wear; that in itself is hitting pay dirt, if you take my meaning. I also liked the description of his embarrassment, but he forced himself to get through it.

  And I'm really looking forward to finding out what it is he saw in the window!
  Keep it coming, Punx!

Very nicely described here, Punx.
  At long last - at very long last - Alex can take steps forward in his plans, instead of backward. By now, the reader is either cheering for him or calling out "It's about time!" while they read this chapter. Very well done!
  The descriptions you used about his uncertainty that something could be going his way is a great addition. Things have been going wrong for so long that he's bound to distrust any positive developments, but the way you described hope and joy swelling in his gut was enough to have the same happen to the reader. Great Job!

  By the way - his comment about a pajama party was wonderfully resourceful and imaginative, and I really really liked it.

  Heheh - Crowell's gonna go down! Woohoo!

Last edited by Grayle (2008-08-15 10:51:15)