The idea of it is good, and so is the way you wrote it(to me) but you and i have two different writing styles. I would have written it with a little more detail. Like this. There are some parts i would have written in present tense too.
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If you walk down a certain alley on the south end of town, and you might find yourself at a place called Under the Bridge. It's a spook bar; humans aren't allowed. Even if one followedwere to follow you, they’d walk right past you and come out where they started, without realizing they’d done it.
The place was lively as I entered. Booths and tables, pool at the back, a bar to my left, and a stage to my right for the dancers, all packed with one-trick ponies, half-breeds, and outsiders of the magical community who had no place with their own kind. It was the kind of place lowlifes like me could come for a brew and ‘loosen our belts’ - to be ourselves and not pretend we more human than we actually were. My kind of place.
AsI took a seat at the bar and watched the dancers then the smell of the bar hit me. It smelled like liquor, just like it should, but it also smelled like a body odor you could never understand(something like that).The dancers, namely the China dolls – twins with snow white hair and ice-blue eyes – already had the crowd panting like dogs. They moved like a mirror image, so eerily synchronized you’d swear they were a single brain in two very attractive bodies.
When I had successfuly(depending on how much self control he has) pried my eyes away from them I found a seven foot tall mountain of mossy-green muscle and warts staring at me from behind the bar.
“Been a while, Cay-baby. What’ll y’have?” so-and-so said in some way. For example, Beth said encouragingly.
If you’ve never heard a sweet Alabama belle’s voice come from a troll, then you’ve never been to the Bridge. She smiled a set of jagged gray teeth. you could possibly describe the smell of her breath, if you could even smell it.
“Good to see you too, Momma Bear,” I said, “Shot and a brew, please.”
“Sacrificial?” She asked.Whyrbolga?
“Thank y’kindly,” I said. She deftly poured me a hit of whiskey, then scooped a few cubes of bloody beef into a pint glass before filling it with smooth amber ale.
I toasted Whyrbolga the troll with the whiskey and downed it. You never toast a lady with raw meat.why did he toast?
“You’re in a pleasant mood tonight,” She said, “Who was the payday?”
“Carlos,” I said, and took a sip of beer.Amber ale whiskey?
I would just use Whyrbolga.The troll snorted, “You’d think that spoiled brat would learn his lesson.”
I dug out my wallet, grown recently fat on the ridiculous allowance Carlos made off his dad, “If he keeps bringing cash like this, I might start inviting him.”
Bolga laughed as I set a bill on the oak table, “Well as long as you remember where to spend it.” She winked and slipped the bill off the table and into her pocket (or cash register) with one finger, then went to serve another patron
I downed my beer, gulping down the bits of steak with them(haha, i laughed here.). As I did a pale green girl with living birch leaves(what does this mean?) tangled in her blond hair sat beside me. She raked a few leaves out of her hair and stretched out her feet.
"Your stalling," I said.
Rachel offered a weak smile, "Is Melissa okay?"
"She's with Becca,” I told her. She relaxed a few notches and mouthed a prayer. what did she do with the rest of her body? did she do somethignwith her hand, like clamping them together?
"You know you might wanna stay with us tonight," I said, "Carlos might come back. I only broke his thumb this time." i'm not sure about this myself, but you COULD give us a breif description and a backstory of carlos here, so we can be in suspense for a fight with him or something.
Rachel chuckled, a poor attempt at hiding her worry. “I’m surprised Becca hasn’t kicked your ass out.”
I smiled, “Maybe I’m a fantastic lay.” Lay?
She laughed, a good honest laugh. “Thanks, Cay.”
Someone screamed and I heard glass shatter. Someone was shoving one of Bolga’s waitresses against his tablei'm a fan of description, so i would describe the one pushing and the one getting pushed. "I'm not drinking this piss!"
Rachel sucked in a breath, “Jackie’s off tonight.”Who is Jackie?
I was already up. The jerk had a pair of buddies, and all three were dressed like metrosexuals from some cheap vampire noveli need more description, like hair and eye color, the color of the bar, the table and other stuff. description is awesome. Two were leaning back, laughing to each other while the thirddescribe him. not only with this give the reader a better look of what you're writing, it adds volume too. shook a short redheadWearing what? - I think her name was Simone - by her collar.
"Lemme go!" The woman snapped.
The man holding her leaned back with his hand and I caught it. Over the stench of beer and tobacco smoke, this guy was heavy on the cologne. It didn’t mask the blood in his veins, though. He was a familiar, a vampire junkie hopped up on his master’s blood. A little strength, a little speed, and all the attitude.This paragraph is perfect. do it like this.
“Hey suckling,” I said, “No fights, no damage. Pay for the glasses and leave.”
The familiar had to look up at me, since I had almost half a foot on him, “Who do you think I am, you faerie abortion? Do you know who I work for?”
I met his gaze and took a long breath, letting some steam into my limbs, filling them up with my own brand of mojo, courtesy of my dad You may have described this somewhere else in the book you are writing, but what does this sentence mean?. “I know he’s not gonna lose any sleep over what happens to you. Pay her and get leave.”
He moved fast. He jerked his fist out of my handHis fist came out of my hand and struck me in the chin, spinning me about. He was strong, too. He could have easily broken a man’s jaw with that swing.
I turned back around, let him get a good view of me, “Strike two, suckling.”
He lashed out with his other fist. I took the hit, and my arms caught his arm. How did he catch it. like this? He lashed out with his other fist. I took the hit and took my right forearm and smashed it into his upper while taking my left forearm and smashing it into his wrist. i put downward pressure with my right arm and upward pressure with my left pushing his arm up and his hand into his neck, choking him. I removed my arms from his and pulled his arm down and then...
I took his middle finger in my fist and snappedbroke it just below the knuckle, then twisted the wrist until it snapped. Even as he started screaming I planted my palm on the back of his below, and bent his arm in a direction it was never meant to. Then I took his arm just above the elbow, and twisted it out of the shoulder socket. It was like crushing a dry branch into so many ball bearings in a sock.Haha ouch. sounds horribly painful.
He collapsed to his knees, screaming his eighty-dollar hair outLolwut?. I reached down and hauled him up by his leather pants, digging his wallet out before I lifted him off the floor. He weighed no more than a bag of groceries to me. I carried him to the door, and Rachel opened it for me.
“Run back to your momma, suckling,” I said, and hurled the >him< its not good to repeat words like this in the same paragraph if there is a synonym or something like thatsuckling out of the bar. He landed in a heap, his broken arm flopping uselessly behind his back.
His buddies had barely even gotten out of their seats.
“Pay,” I told them, “And leave.”
Fear and vamp blood lent them wings. Money flashed from their pockets onto the table, and they fled out the door, trying to avoid me. I swung my foot at one and caught him in the backside, knocking him up and into his buddy, and the three formed a tangled heap on the floor.
I shut the doors. The Bridge was silent.
“Ole!” I said.
Laughter and cheers deafened the room. Rachel rolled her eyes at mewith a smile.
"Fantastic lay," I assured her.
I helped the redhead clean up, and she flashed me the nicest smile I’d gotten all night. Then I went back to my stool, and Bolga poured me another sacrificial pint. “On the house,” She said.
While things quieted down, I checked the suckling’s wallet. Almost a thousand dollars.
Tonight really was my night.
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And like i said before, this is just how i would have written it. Also, i dont mean to be insulting if i am. i hope you liked the advice.
