Monday, February 21, 2011

THE SECRETS OF THE FAE
Opening-Chapter Critique
by Robert L. Bacon

The Secrets of the Fae
By Emma B.
Critique by Robert L. Bacon
November 18, 2010

Hello Emma,

Before you read the revised draft, here are the issues I noticed with THE SECRETS OF THE FAE that need attention:

1)  Overall, other than sometimes getting all "caught up" in your narrative and not writing what I'm certain it is you wanted to make clear for the reader, punctuation is your number-one problem area.  Specifically, the incorrect and overuse of semi-colons, and improperly punctuated dialogue attributes. 

To the latter issue, attributes always need a comma, not a period.  "Go to him," I nodded, should be "Go to him," I said and nodded. or "Go to him."  I nodded.  But never the first example, "Go to him," I nodded.  A physical act, as in nodding, is not a speaker attribute such "said" or "asked." 

Attributes (meaning, something "attributed" to someone's speech) always require
a word that identifies what the speaker did from the perspective of declaring, questioning, etc., such as the word said as in he said, or asked as in he asked, or words that modify these attributes (called adverb attributes; i.e., the word softly in
she said softly).  Regardless of the construction, for something to be attributed to a speaker--thus identifying the speaker for the reader--this requires a comma and not
a period.  Always!

2)  Many writers have the tendency to repeat words too close to one another, thus making them stand out. This is why "fresh" eyes are so important.  Early in your draft, I noticed uncomfortably and uncomfortable a sentence or so apart.  As I worked through the draft, there were many such instances, with another close set I remember involving the word vulnerable.  As you'll see, I provided substitutes for these sets of redundant words.

3)  Alex should always be attractive to the reader, therefore she would never grunt, she groans; she doesn't pop her joints, she flexes her legs, etc.  You'll see how I suggested attending to this when you read the revised text.

4)  Write in active and not passive voice almost all the time.  I noticed you slipping into passive voice in a few areas of your narrative.  This stifles writing in many ways, since this also doesn't enable you to show the action, which is almost always advantageous to telling the reader what's happening.

5) I want to encourage you to use more contractions in your dialogue  Read your material out loud to see how it fits with the way you want your characters to sound.
If a contraction works better, use it.  I understand that you need your characters to speak in a specific way, but from a perspective of pitch, it's important to determine if
a contraction sounds best.                                            

6)  An agent or publisher is going to advise you to use more interior monologue to break up your longer runs of dialogue, something such as I did when I inserted a little humor at the end in one of Paralda's exchanges.  I offered this for you to consider: Paralda said in a not too pleasant tone, even for telepathy.

7)  Don’t tell what's going to happen beforehand.  This is a really big deal, since it takes the edge off the ensuing action.  You'll see the sections I deleted from your narrative where this occurred.  Again, this is hugely important.

8)  Consistency is critical.  Alex can't set the time in the loop for ten seconds in one scene and then tell Paralda in a later scene that she set it for an hour.  This is the only instance in which I think I noticed this, but please check you entire draft for this sort of miscue.

In what you will soon be reading, when I deleted words or phrases in your narrative,
I did so instead of using a strikethrough.  Then I highlighted the suggested revised
text in yellow.  In this way, once you've seen where the revisions are located and compared these to your original wording--if you want to do so, since this is a Word document--you can simply highlight the entire narrative in yellow and then click the yellow icon in the editing box to delete all highlighting.  My clients tell me this a lot easier than having to delete every strikethrough.

Here is your draft with my suggestions for your consideration: 

[A note to readers:  What is highlighted in yellow is text I revised and not material to be modified]  

1
I could think of more than a dozen things I would rather be doing on a Saturday night, which all involved my vampire boyfriend Xavier, who was currently busy overseeing the domain of a vampire leader who had been killed, something that wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for me.  I hadn’t seen Xavier for what seemed like a lifetime, and I only had myself to blame.
I shifted uncomfortably in the darkness trying to stretch muscles that had started to seize.  I groaned as I tried to straighten my right leg for the tenth time.
“Alex, you need to be quiet,” Paralda whispered in my ear.
Paralda and I were currently hiding in the hypogeum system of the Colosseum in Rome.  Paralda, my ally and leader of the Sylphs from the Fae realm, was sporting the 6-feet-tall goddess form she used when entering the mortal realm.  Apparently when your true height is 3-feet, including wings, you like a bit of extra room when you play the mortal.  Yet she still appeared more squeezed in that larger space than what my 5-feet 4-inch tall frame allowed me in mine.
Paralda started inching her way along the aqueduct that had been used during the Colosseum’s heyday to flood the arena.  I followed closely behind, trying not to make any noise.
I may be High Priestess for the Fae realm, and now the leader of the vampire contingent of the mortal world thanks to my being in a relationship with one of them, but stealth and combat were definitely not my strong suits.  I reminded myself of this as we crawled through the narrow space that Paralda and I decided was the best route for getting to Dante and all of us back home safely.  And I didn't mind the effort , since what we were going through was nothing compared to what he was experiencing.
Dante, my grandfather and Sylph, was currently being held and tortured by a faction that was tied to Raoul, a rogue area-leader, who with his league of vampires had been causing trouble for the Fae. I had subsequently killed him; well, my pet offensive ward, Draco the Dragon, had killed him.  When it happened I had just screamed like the girl I was.
I tried using my power again to get into Dante’s mind.  I had succeeded several times in the past day to enter it briefly, but it was chaotic and didn’t contain many coherent thoughts.  Just pain!  I couldn’t reach his mind even though he was close by.  He must have been under again.  I wouldn’t allow myself to think we were too late.  I had panicked the first day when I was in his mind and suddenly I had been cast out.  Paralda explained he had probably lost his ability to remain cognizant, and even as powerful as I might be as High Priestess, I cannot enter a comatose mind. 
It had taken me over 24 hours to get enough information out of Dante’s tortured mind to track him to this area.  The hypogeum system of the Colosseum was a vast network of tunnels and cages that all looked the same, and pinpointing his exact location was proving difficult.  I continued to try to communicate telepathically with Dante, but he was either too weak or in too much pain to respond. 
Paralda led us from the main arena through the aqueduct to the tunnels below.  Her dark silhouette suddenly disappeared in front of me, and I heard a soft thud and a hiss below.  I crawled forward on my stomach and peered into the hole in which Paralda had just fallen.
I giggled as she was wiping red dust off her rear end.  She looked up and scowled,  motioning for me to join her quickly.  I jumped into the hole and landed on the ground next to her.  I stretched the full length of my body, trying to ease the kinks that the aqueduct had caused.
But before I even had time to flex my legs, Paralda grabbed my hand and dragged me to the back of a cage that was hidden in the shadows.  Paralda and I stopped breathing, and we listened for any noises of anything or anyone approaching that would indicate we had given away our position.  We remained in this state for a long time but nothing happened.
Paralda let out her breath and I followed suit and relaxed.  We obviously were not close enough to be discovered yet.  Paralda grabbed a water bottle out of her backpack and took a drink and handed it to me.  I took a quick mouthful and handed it back.
“So what do we do now?” I asked in a low voice.
“When we find them," Paralda said.  You have to use your mind control to subdue however many there are so we can get Dante out safely.”
I concentrated but it wasn't working.  “I don’t know who has him, so I can’t visualise their minds.  We need to get close enough so I can see Dante.  His thoughts, when I get to them, are too chaotic.  I have only seen one face clearly in his mind.  The others are fuzzy, but I think there are at least three.”
“If you can see them, do you think you will be able to subdue them simultaneously?” Paralda asked.
“Sure,” I said and nodded. “If they're all essentially doing the same thing, I can control as many minds as I want.”
Roman, my trainer and Paralda’s brother, had been helping me fine tune my mind control skills, and I was getting pretty good at it.
“So how are we going to find them?” I asked.
“Thanks to you, we are now close enough that I can find him by scent.” Paralda said.
“You can smell him?” I asked.
Paralda smiled. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can track someone through a blood bond.  You should be able to sense him as well, maybe even better than me, since Dante is your grandfather.”
I shuddered as I looked around at my surroundings; the Colosseum was cold, dark, and really spooky.  “I can’t smell anything except dust and mould,” I said.

"You can sense the history of this place and feel the presence of pain and death too," Paralda said.  Mortals would call it a haunted feeling.  Don’t rely on your five normal senses.  Use your sixth sense, the feeling in your mind and soul.”
I thought about her words and glanced around again.  She was right, I could feel the presence of all the death, pain, fear, and hatred of the place.  I tried to concentrate on those things. 
      In the centre of all this was what I can only describe as a hot spot.  It was like a small place burning more brightly in the middle of all the pain.  I moved towards the entrance of the cage and the spot pulsed to my movement.  I turned right and continued down the tunnel.  And though the spot still seemed to beat like a heart, it had started to cool and burn a little less brightly.  I turned around and headed the other way through the tunnel, and the hot spot again picked up its intensity.
“I think Dante is this way,” I said.
“Good girl, you can feel it," Paralda said.  "Scenting is not really using your sense of smell.  That's just an easy way to describe it.  It's more like following an essence."
With each step I took inside the tunnel, I could now feel the hot spot pulsing stronger and brighter. Paralda and I moved slowly and cautiously, and stopped when we heard movement and muffled voices ahead of us.
As High Priestess, I had control over who could come into my mind, and when I felt Paralda pushing on the shields around my brain, I let them down so she could enter telepathically, another perk of being of Fae descent.
Be careful.  If we can hear them, they can definitely hear us, Paralda said in my mind.  No more talking, and take care to be as quiet as possible.  Keep the connection open between us so we can speak telepathically.  I nodded in agreement and we again moved slowly through the tunnel, keeping to the darkest of the shadows.  We were both dressed in black combat gear and we pulled the hoods down over our faces so we were virtually invisible.
 Luckily, the scent of blood and urine that was emanating from the room ahead of us was very strong, otherwise I suspect the vampires holding Dante hostage would have been able to smell us approaching.
Paralda pulled me to the wall, and we peered around the corner into an open cage that was larger than other cages we also saw.  I suspected this was the room the gladiators had used to practice their fighting skills before entering the main arena.  I opened my mouth to scream, but Paralda clamped a strong hand over it.
I was looking at a makeshift torture chamber complete with a rack.  There were various torture weapons on the wall, some I recognised and some were too damn weird and I didn’t want to know what they would be used for.  Dante was stripped naked and tied to the rack.  His head leaned to the side and there was blood covering most of his body.  Five vampires stood in the room with him.
“What are we going to do, Radu?" one of the vampires asked.  "Raoul should have been in contact by now.  We need to know what to do with him.”
“I need to go and see what is going on," another vampire, who looked vaguely familiar to me, answered him.  He continued, "Raoul should have left some instructions.  Something must have happened.  Keep him alive until I return.”
Oh my, that is Radu.  I have heard of him but never seen him before.  He is Vlad’s brother, Paralda said in my mind.
What the hell is Vlad’s brother doing torturing Dante? I asked, now realising why he looked familiar.  Vlad Basarab was the original Dracula and an area leader who I had become friends with whilst trying to stop Raoul.
Vlad and Radu are enemies.  They have been since they were mortal Paralda said, You need to subdue them all now, before Radu leaves.
I closed my eyes and visualised the vampires in front of me.  I considered them asleep and sent the thought towards them.  I placed the visions in each vampire’s mind, but nothing happened.  I started to panic.
What is wrong Alex?  You need to subdue them quickly, Paralda said.
I tried, it's not working.  I sent a visualisation of them asleep, and I know it entered their minds.  I felt it.
Vampires don’t sleep, Alex, you know that.  You can’t use something that is physically impossible for them to do Paralda said in a not too pleasant tone, even for telepathy.
Well, what do you suggest I do? I asked, at a loss of how to keep the vampires occupied.
Paralda shrugged.  I don’t know, but we need to come up with something quickly before Radu heads this way.
Hang on, I might have something, I said.
I wondered whether I could visualise the room remaining the same as it is now, but without us  in it--when in fact we were--like what occurs when a security camera is set on a loop that shows something earlier and not what is happening in real time.  I suggested this to Paralda and she said to give it a go.
I imagined the room from the previous hour, with time running over and over again,  and I sent the vision to the vampires' minds and shrugged.
I’ve done it, so now I suggest we just walk in there and see if it worked.  I had said this in Paralda’s mind with much more confidence than I really felt.
Paralda nodded and grabbed my hand.  We walked slowly into the room until we were in front of Radu.  He looked straight through us, at the entrance that we had just come from.  This confirmed he was on the loop and wasn’t going to be able to do anything to us.  The other vampires were watching Radu and didn’t notice us either.  I let out a sigh of relief.  Paralda removed herself from my mind and we resumed communicating normally.
“How long did you set the loop for?” Paralda asked.
“An hour, do you think that's long enough?” I asked.
Paralda nodded.  “Come on, let’s get him out of here.”
Paralda and I hurried over to Dante and started untying him from the rack.  He groaned but did not open his eyes.  We placed his arms on our shoulders and dragged him out of the chamber.
It was slow going through the tunnel, as Dante was dead weight and unable to help us at all.  The height difference between Paralda and I didn’t do any good either, and I cursed the 6-foot fairy about her choice of height as we stumbled down the tunnel towards the entrance to the main arena.
It took us nearly half an hour just to get out of the hypogeum system.  Once we were in the main arena, it was a little easier to move because there was more room, but we still had a ways to go to get to the portal site in Rome. 
Paralda had called Roman telepathically when we had started back through the tunnel, and he met us at the entrance to the Colosseum.  Roman picked Dante up and carried him fireman-style.  Dante groaned when Roman had lifted him over his shoulder, but we couldn’t afford to check his injuries now.
Paralda, Roman, and I made our way back to the Ulpia Basilica where the Fae line- portal was.  By the time we got there, our hour of grace had passed by a few minutes.  I looked around nervously as Paralda opened the portal.
Five minutes later we were in the Fae realm and the portal was shut.  I sank to my knees on the floor of the Fae forest and tried to stop shaking, not only from the Fae line- travel, which I was still trying to get used to, but from the nerves I had been trying to keep in check whilst we rescued Dante. 
Fae line-travel is unlike anything I have experienced before.  Imagine a dark tunnel filled with smeared lights all around that gives you the impression of flying at a million miles an hour.  You have a sense of weightlessness and you cannot tell whether you are right side up or not.  If you can handle that, then you have an idea of what Fae line-travel is like. 
I felt my equilibrium settle and let out a big breath.  Paralda converted back to her    3-foot-fairy form.  Her silver wings caused a cool breeze on the back of my neck as she came down next to me.
‘We did it, Alex," Paralda said, while rubbing soothing circles on my back.  "Dante is home."  She turned to Roman.  "You can you take him to the infirmary.  Alex and I will catch up.” 
Roman nodded and picked up Dante.  Roman had kept his 6-foot form that he used in the mortal realm and this made it easier to carry Dante, who was in no condition to change back to his lighter fairy form.  Roman cradled Dante gently to his chest and disappeared into the forest.
“We only just made it,” I said.  "If Radu had found out Raoul was dead, I don’t think Dante would still be alive."
 “Yes, our timing couldn’t have been better.  I'm glad Vlad wanted to keep Raoul’s death quiet for a little while or we may not have got him back,” Paralda said.
“So Radu is really Vlad’s brother, I mean, not just vampire brother but mortal brother too?” I asked.
“Yes, Radu is Vlad’s younger half-brother.  They have the same father but a different mother,” Paralda said as she nodded.  “Radu held the throne of the Ottoman Court while Vlad held the throne of Wallachia.  Vlad launched successful guerrilla attacks against Radu’s armies but could never get to Radu himself.”  Paralda paused and smiled at the wood nymphs that were listening to her story. 
“Vlad’s older full brother, Mircea, was killed in 1447 by boyars from Tigoviste.  They burned his eyes out with red hot pokers and buried him alive.  His being buried alive actually ended up saved him.  He was turned, and started his life as a vampire, which Vlad didn't know anything about.  Vlad then spent the rest of his mortal life trying to avenge his older brother’s death, which he blamed on the Ottoman Court and Radu.  But Radu died in 1475 before Vlad could avenge Mircea’s death"
“So they are true enemies even in death?” I asked.
Paralda nodded.  “When Vlad was fatally wounded during a battle in 1476, Mircea turned him, and Vlad found out that Mircea had already turned Radu the year before.  Vlad’s hatred of Radu burned so deeply, even though all three were now immortal, and Mircea did not blame his youngest brother for his death, Vlad could not bring himself to forgive Radu.”
“Vlad has a very interesting family tree,” I said, running a shaky hand through my hair.  I took a deep breath.  “I know why Raoul used Radu to torture Dante.” 
“You do?”  Paralda asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Vlad’s gift is mind control.  If he can capture your gaze and hold it, he can make you tell him what he wants to know.  And a vampire’s unique gift is passed on by blood, so if Mircea turned both Radu and Vlad, they'd all share the same gift.”
“So Radu could control Dante’s mind and find out whatever he wanted?”  Paralda asked.
I nodded.  “Radu probably knows quite a few Fae secrets now.”
Paralda stood up and held her hand out for me.  “We better go and check on Dante.”
We started walking through the Fae forest, and back to Paralda’s castle in the Province of Light.
__________________________________________________________

Robert L. Bacon
theperfectwrite.com

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Monday, February 7, 2011

A TRAGIC COMPULSION by Chris O.
Opening-Chapter Critique by Robert L. Bacon

Hello Chris,                                                                             

There are a great many good things to report about your opening.  First, you have what appears to be an excellent story concept, and John/Rhino is a character readers can root for.  Both these elements are crucial for a novel to be successful in any market.  Another powerful element of your story is the setting.  Nigeria is not a country people in the States and in other parts of the world know much about, so there is an automatic curiosity that goes beyond what we read in National Geographic.  And from what I've read from of your characterizations, you have presented a quality foundation.

On another topic, I was impressed by the superb way you presented the dream sequence.  I was truly on the edge of my seat.  That was highly skilled writing, and I can only assume there is more of that throughout the narrative.  

However, pertaining to the draft from the point of the dream sequence forward, it was as if I was reading work by two different people.  I wondered if perhaps you might've been trying to test me with the pages preceding this, ha ha.  And if this was the case, you did a very good job, as you'll notice from how much revising I suggested during the first three pages.  I of course couldn't take the time to line edit the remaining 12 or 13 pages, but I found this section of text much easier to read, and I can assure you that nowhere near as much line editing would be necessary to polish it.  Perhaps as I was reading I was just getting more used to your writing style, and particularly with respect to the dialogue.  Whatever be the case, I really enjoyed the latter dozen or so pages from the perspective of the fluency of the prose.

I went ahead and revised your brief opening description of A TRAGIC COMPULSION, which you can now use as a query (and save yourself the $117.50 I charge for a query, ha ha), as what you provided was very good.  But, alas, with all these positive things being stated, as with all unpublished drafts, there are issues to consider, and here they are:

1) Don't write in backstory.  Show the action in the correct context in which it occurs.  I moved some of the text around in the first three pages to add continuity and eliminate repetition.  Whenever possible, always try to show the action, don't tell it (especially in a passive voice).

2)  Punctuation and repeated words are a serious problem throughout the draft.  Pay particular attention to runs of dialogue.  (Your use of apostrophes rather than quotation marks is fine, but not common to 99.99% of what's printed in the Western world.  If you're planning to try to find an agent or publisher in the States, you might want to consider quotation marks, but this is just my opinion and certainly not chiseled in stone.)

A Tragic Compulsion                                                        
Prologue & 1st Chapter Critique
By Robert L. Bacon

3)  Formatting is a big deal.  You need a header at the top of each page with your name, the page numbers, and the name of the book.  Then the entire narrative will have to be double spaced if you plan to send this to an agent or publisher.  Watch out for different size fonts and font styles.  I converted what you sent me to 12 point Times New Roman.  Use either this or Courier, and 12 point only.  Also, be certain to indent you paragraphs at least an inch. 

4)  Pay close attention to continuity.  Would your protagonist go to church on Sunday and then take his lunch to spend the evening with his best childhood friend?  Wouldn't the day or afternoon be more appropriate? And in the run below, can you see the problem of how the words "could not come out," yet be spoken in the prior paragraph?

          ‘Sappy …,’ he said in a whisper. ‘Don’t kill me…please.’ Within him, the young man regretted his mistake. 
       
           Before the words could come out, Sappy suddenly jumped up from his lying position and pointed a pistol at the young man’s chest.

Or were these Sappy's words you're referring to?  Either way, it needs to be reworded so the reader knows who didn't speak.

Again, related to continuity, according to your opening, John is going to Europe to bring his family out of unending poverty, but on the third page of the narrative, Sappy tells the reader Jon's family has sold land to finance his excursions.  This plot element needs to be reconciled for the story to have credibility with the reader.

On page 16, you wrote:  Sappy went on to rant at him, but Rhino had heard enough.  Sappy wasn't in this scene, only Rhino and Nichy.  Again, continuity is crucial to hold the reader.

5) It is not necessary or desirable to constantly repeat a person's name in dialogue when only two people are talking.  If you feel it's important to let the reader know who is talking, use an attribute, such as Sappy said.  By the way, don't write said Sappy (or whomever); write Sappy said, John said, Nichy said, etc.

6)  You occasionally have dangling modifiers that enable incorrect linkage.  For example, in this sentence:  Rhino emerged from inside the dilapidated building that housed the miniature room in which Sappy lived through a long narrow passage--you have Sappy living in the long narrow passage, not living on the other end of it.  You can fix this by revising the sentence to read:  At the end of a long, narrow passage, Rhino emerged from inside the dilapidated building that housed the miniature room in which Sappy lived.
A Tragic Compulsion                                                                          
Prologue & 1st Chapter Critique
By Robert L. Bacon

7)  Check your narrative for missing words.  We all have this problem because we often still see what we wrote before our many revisions, but you need to address this so you have a text that's truly a fluent read.
8)  There are also Point of View issues, as this narrative should be written entirely in John's POV during his scene with Sappy.  I made the changes and you can compare this with what you wrote so you see the way this was done.
9)  Transitioning is sometimes an issue.  I added a few short phrases here and there to give you an idea of how to make the exposition flow with something that preceded it.  You can remove all of this, of course, but if you read what each phrase alludes to at a prior point in the narrative, you might want to work on this by adding your own words and ideas.  Regardless of how you approach this, it mirrors in many way what I wrote regarding transitioning.
What follows is the revised opening (sic, actual prologue) that, as I mentioned, you can use as a query.  All you need to do is add the word-count and genre, and a little about yourself at the end.  Also, if you find this acceptable for your query, use two spaces after each period.  One space is okay for the novel's narrative, but not for a letter.
You'll then find the three pages I line edited, and a clean three pages after this so you can compare my suggestions for improvement with what you wrote.  I try to deal with issues that I know, but please understand the editing is often subjective, and sometimes highly so.  Consequently, if you don't like some of my ideas, certainly change them back or come up with something else.  But keep in mind that I made each revision for a reason.
Chris, I wish you the best of luck with your manuscript, and I hope you find some benefit from what I'm providing.  And as I wrote in the e-mail, please feel free to contact me if you have any questions about my critique and cursory line edit.
Regards,
Rob
   A TRAGIC COMPULSION

To John, finding a job in Europe would help his family out of what has been never-ending poverty, and this is why he is determined to run away from Mother Africa.
In Spain, he discovers that there are ways to earn cash much faster than by manual labor. But he decides to do things honorably as he struggles for survival.  That is, until he is awakened by an early-morning phone call.  His best friend is home for Christmas.  And a rich man. To compete, John feels the pressure to turn to crime. 
While he is contending with the forces of evil, he falls into the hands of a stranger on a deadly mission.  The change in John's new life is permanent when he accepts a stipend that would alter his family's situation for good.  But when he enters a house and is confronted with three dead bodies, he realizes that his benefactor is really a con man who has made him out to be the murderer.  
Now wanted by the Police for multiple homicides, the young African is on the run.  His only hope of saving himself is to learn the identity of the man who tricked him.  But as he undertakes this task, he discovers he is being hunted by the same man--who also wants him to join the ranks of the three corpses.

PROLOGUE
NIGERIA. JUNE, 2004


         Today, Sunday, he returned from church and took his lunch with him, deciding not to while away his time in the house, but to go visit his known best friend right from childhood friend and spend the rest of the evening afternoon with him. And when he stepped inside the bathtub-size, ramshackle, one-room apartment, lying in on the bed, face down, was Sappy, his best friend.
      
       ‘Hey, wake up, am I'm here,’ the young man had called out.
      
         For a long moment, Sappy hadn’t responded didn't respond, so the young man went to an old rusted chair relic by in the corner – the only one chair inside the room – and sat down, waiting and thinking that Sappy may be was having a nap and didn't want to be disturbed.
   
         Moments But a short time later, Sappy, lying on the a mattress with almost no foam left that was
fitted atop a small, old, almost-no-foamed six-spring Vono bed, spoke., ‘We’re going to make cash.’ To the young man, his voice had never been sounded as icy as heard before.

        ‘Yes we’re we are, but we’ll wait for our time to be ripe.’
                                                                                                    
        ‘No,’ said Sappy said. ‘It’s tomorrow.’
  
       ‘Tomorrow?’ the The young man’s eyelids flickered, revealing his surprise. ‘How do you mean...tomorrow?’ The young man He then sat in horror as he stared at the hole of the barrel of the gun trained at him from a few feet away.



        ‘So, how about this?’ the owner holder of the hand which held the gun asked him.

         The young man said nothing, but remained transfixed on the weapon, his eyes wide open, his jaw sagging, and his heart thumping with violence as the single eye of the weapon gun rested was remained pointed directly at his chest.

         It occurred to him, that in the next few seconds, a red-hot bullet would fly out and pierce through his heart. And he would be dead; murdered by the friend he’d known since childhood.

          ‘Sappy …,’ the  he said in a whisper. ‘Don’t kill me…please.’

           Within him ,the young man regretted his mistake.  Before As soon as the his words could come came out, Sappy suddenly jumped up from his lying position and pointed a pistolat the young man’s chest.
‘Sappy! What –? he had begun, but stopped short at the sight of the object: Shiny silver and metallic – a pistol. Not knowing what to do, he had thrown both hands in the air, melting in shock, his shirt’s armpit already bathed with sweat.
      Now, he was still seated, gaping at the weapon. ‘Don’t shoot… please.’
                  Sappy laughed aloud. ‘Cool it down, Rhino, there are no bullets inside this thing. This,’ he said as he                     tapped on the barrel of the pistol with his left hand.,‘is a Beretta automatic. It belongs to a politician.’ 
           He The young man dropped his hands, then sent them down to and clutched his chest, clutching it. He shot his eyes closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in, struggling to control the rapid beating of his heart;, trying to reduce the effect of the shock he had just endured. He opened his eyes and  looked up at who he thought was his friend. ‘Sappy, you’re going too far! I thought you wanted to murder me.’

‘Why would I want to kill you, Rhino?’

         ‘I don’t know. You keep surprising me with lots of changes since we came into Lagos. Why Sappy?’

 ‘You are asking me that?’
       
         Rhino nodded.
        
         ‘Because it’s what life’s all about in this country, my man: Change. But from good to bad, not from bad to good, as is your own case.’ Sappy looked hard at his best friend.

  Rhino returned the look just as firmly. ‘What are you doing with a politician’s gun Sappy?’
       
         Sappy ignored the question. ‘Let me teach you how to load and cork cock a gun, man.’ He jumped out of the bed and approached Rhino, but no longer pointing the gun at him.  The boxer shorts and the dirty white singlet he wore manifested the well-formed contours of his masculinity in a perfect manner. ‘I know you’ve not had the opportunity to see and touch a gun before.’

         ‘Don’t teach me anything,’ Rhino said, ‘I have want nothing to do with a gun!’ But as he said this not knowing he did, he rested his eyes on what Sappy was doing – feeding bullets into the gun.
  ‘
                 'Come on now, Rhino,’ Sappy said as he finished loading the pistol, ‘me, you, DJ., Trouble and the Giraffe, we’re going to roughen up a certain man tomorrow. We’re going to teach him some good lessons, say, break one of his knee caps, so that he quits gives up his intention to run for next year’s councillorship elections for this ward.                                                                                                    
                 When the job is done,’ Sappy continued to load bullets into the weapon  said, ‘he will bow out of the race. And my friend, the other politician, pays us fifty thousand Naira for our efforts. What do you think about that, man?’

   Rhino sat dumb-still dumbfounded, gazing at Sappy.
        
          ‘We’re not going to do him with the gun,’ Sappy went on, dropping the forth bullet into one of the cylinder holes. ‘But in case anything went goes wrong, you know what I mean,.His smile widened,.This thing is just a personal protection weapon belonging to my friend, the politician. You know him, don't you.’
‘       
                 'I don’t know him,’ Rhino said, his voice harsh due to a growing tension and tense. ‘And I don’t want to know any politician,’ 
   Sappy’s hand halted as he wanted to drop the last bullet into  quit playing with the loaded gun. ‘Why are you sounding very hostile, Rhino?.

         ‘I can’t make money through harassing politicians for other politicians. These people keep using the poverty and ignorance of the masses to commit unbearable atrocities in this our rich, good country.’

          ‘What has our making money got to do with the richness or poverty of this country?’ Sappy stared at him, furious. ‘Look now, Rhino, I keep wondering why you have changed from the ever-respected, intelligent man who was always in command of the English language commanding and very strong in fisticuffs,  the Rhinoceros I used to fear back in our secondary school days, to a good hearted, patriotic citizen of Nigeria. This quality will only make you a wretched man.’ Sappy paused for a moment. ‘Why don’t you make good use of your brilliance Rhino? You’re the kind of machinery politicians are in search of everyday.’ 

          Rhino stood up, but remained silent.
      
         ‘Let me ask you something,’ Sappy said, looking hard into the eyes of a man dwarfing him by almost a foot.
 ‘What?’

 ‘How long have you left the east for here, Lagos, in search of visa?’

 ‘A year and nine months. How does that matter?’
  
 ‘And you’re twenty one right now, Rhino?’

 ‘Yes, likewise you.’

  ‘And you still depend on your old parents to sell another piece of their precious land, and hand you the money to travel abroad?’

  'Well,’ Rhino said as he thought for a moment, ‘as long as it didn’t come to me in a bad way.’
        _______________________________________________________________

NIGERIA. JUNE, 2004


         Today, Sunday, he returned from church and took his lunch with him, deciding not to while away his time in the house, but to visit his best childhood friend and spend the rest of the afternoon with him. And when he stepped inside the bathtub-size, ramshackle, one-room apartment, lying on the bed, face down, was Sappy.
        ‘Hey, wake up, I'm here,’ the young man called out.
        For a long moment Sappy didn't respond, so the young man went over to an old rusted relic in the corner – the only chair in the room – and sat down, waiting and thinking that Sappy was having a nap and didn't want to be disturbed.
        But a short time later, Sappy, lying on a mattress with almost no foam that was fitted atop a small, old, six-spring Vono bed, said, ‘We’re going to make cash.’ To the young man, his voice had never sounded as icy.
        ‘Yes we are, but we’ll wait for our time to be ripe.’
        ‘No,’ Sappy said. ‘It’s tomorrow.’
        ‘Tomorrow?’ The young man’s eyelids flickered, revealing his surprise. ‘How do you mean...tomorrow?’ He then sat in horror as he stared down the barrel of the gun trained at him from a few feet away.
        ‘So, how about this?’ the holder of  the gun asked him.
        The young man said nothing, but remained transfixed on the weapon, his eyes wide open, his jaw sagging, and is heart thumping as the gun remained pointed at his chest. It occurred to him that in the next few seconds a red-hot bullet would fly out and pierce his heart. And he would be dead, murdered by the friend he’d known since childhood.
         ‘Sappy,’ he said in a whisper. ‘Don’t kill me…please.’
          Sappy laughed loud. ‘Cool it down, Rhino, there are no bullets inside this thing. This,’ he said as he tap on the barrel of the pistol with his left hand,‘ is a Beretta automatic. It belongs to a politician.’
          The young man dropped his hands and clutched his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in, struggling to control the rapid beating of his heart, trying to reduce the effect of the shock he had just endured. He opened his eyes and looked up at who he thought was his friend. ‘Sappy, you’re going too far! I thought you wanted to murder me.’
        ‘Why would I want to kill you, Rhino?’
        ‘I don’t know. You keep surprising me with lots of changes since we came into Lagos. Why?
        ‘You are asking me that?’
         Rhino nodded.
        ‘Because it’s what life’s all about in this country, my man: change. But from good to bad, not from bad to good, as is your own case.’ Sappy looked hard at his best friend
         Rhino returned the look just as firmly. ‘What are you doing with a politician’s gun?’
         Sappy ignored the question. ‘Let me teach you how to load and cock a gun, man.’ He jumped out of the bed and approached Rhino, but no longer pointing the gun at him.  The boxer shorts and the dirty white singlet he wore manifested the well-formed contours of his masculinity in a perfect manner. ‘I know you’ve not had the opportunity to see and touch a gun before.’
          ‘Don’t teach me anything,’ Rhino said, ‘I want nothing to do with a gun!’ But as he said this, he rested his eyes on what Sappy was doing – feeding bullets into the clip.
          'Come on now,’ Sappy said as he finished loading the pistol, ‘me, you, DJ, Trouble and the Giraffe, we’re going to rough up a certain man tomorrow. We’re going to teach him some good lessons, say break one of his knee caps so he gives up his intention to run for next year’s councillorship elections for this ward. When the job is done, he will bow out of the race. And my friend, the other politician, pays us fifty thousand Naira for our efforts. What do you think about that, man?'
         Rhino sat dumbfounded, gazing at Sappy.
         ‘We’re not going to do him with the gun,’ Sappy went on, smiling at the now loaded automatic and fondling it. ‘But in case anything goes wrong, you know what I mean.’ His smile widened. ‘This thing is just personal protection belonging to my friend, the politician. You know him, don't you.’ 
          'I don’t know him,’ Rhino said, his voice harsh and tense. ‘And I don’t want to know any politician any more than I want to know about that gun.’
   Sappy stopped playing with the loaded gun and stared at his friend. ‘Why are you sounding very hostile, Rhino?'
     ‘I can’t make money through harassing politicians for other politicians. These people keep using the poverty and ignorance of the masses to commit unbearable atrocities in this, our rich, good country.’
         ‘What has our making money got to do with the richness or poverty of this country?’ Sappy stared at him, appearing furious. ‘Look now, I keep wondering why you have changed from the ever-respected man who was always in command of the English language and very strong in fisticuffs--the Rhinoceros I used to fear back in our secondary school days--to a good hearted, patriotic citizen of Nigeria. This quality will only make you a wretched man.’ Sappy paused for a moment and smiled at his friend. ‘Why don’t you make good use of your brilliance, Rhino? You’re the kind of machinery politicians are in search of.’ 
       Rhino stood, but remained silent.
       ‘Let me ask you something,’ Sappy said, looking hard into the eyes of a man dwarfing him by almost a foot.
       ‘What?
       ‘How long have you left the east for Lagos in search of a visa?
       ‘A year and nine months. How does that matter?'
       ‘And you’re twenty-one right now?'
       ‘Yes, like you.’ 
       ‘And you still depend on your old parents to sell another piece of their precious land, and hand you the money to travel abroad?’
       ‘Well,’ Rhino said as he thought for a moment, ‘as long as it doesn’t come to me in a bad way.’
__________________________________________________________ 
Robert L. Bacon
theperfectwrite.com

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