Feedback for Writers - Going, Going, Gone.

Hello All,

As I have mentioned previously I am running a weekly podcast called Sunday Night Stories where I narrate work from new writers.

This weeks Sunday Night Story comes from 3rd year scriptwriting student and NTW Community member Abbie Allen. She is graduating from the University of South Wales in July and would love some feed back on her writing. 

Please click here to listen to my recording of Going, Going, Gone;

Alternatively, you can read the transcript I have pasted below. Abbie would really appreciate some feedback on this piece as she is considering developing it further, so any comments or help you can give her would be great!

Please send any feedback on the writing to abbieallenuk@gmail.com

You can also follow Abbie on 

Twitter - @abbieallen1996

Facebook - @AbbieAllenUK

And don't forget to visit her website - www.abbieallenuk.com

Oh, and of course @sunnightstories too :)

Going, Going, Gone

Written by Abbie Allen

Being trapped in a small room for hours on end wasn’t how I expected to be spending my shift. I could feel cramp trying to attack my legs in the form of pins and needles starting the spread through my calves. I wiggled in my chair, making it squeak with every movement I made. I looked across the room and the wallpaper was starting to go mouldy. It was chipping off and flaking all over the floor.

‘Remind me why they wanted us to be in this room.’ I groaned.

‘It’s a good lookout spot.’ Edward shrugged.

I just wanted my bed. Yeah, there was one in the room, but it was definitely not going to be comfy or hygienic. The floor didn’t seem that steady either. I was sure sooner or later a floorboard was gonna gave in. I was sure of it.

‘Nervous?’

‘Me? No. Just bored out my skull. That’s all.’

‘I’d never had guessed.’

I looked out the window. The street was dark, only two streetlamps on. Either that or someone had broken the other ones. I tried to check the buildings out, seeing if there was any movement, but I saw nothing. The screech of a cat and a rustle of two bins made both of us jump.

‘This neighbourhood gives me the creeps.’

‘We’re from this neighbourhood.’

‘Your point?’

Edward shook his head, a small smirk playing with the corners of his mouth. He picked up his phone and checked for any messages.

‘Anything?’

‘Nope. Do know it’s about two in the morning though.’

I groaned, not impressed by the fast one we’d had pulled on us.

‘Why couldn’t we have asked for CID jobs? We have the qualifications for it.’

‘We needed to be able to keep an eye on things. We can’t do that chained to a desk.’

I groaned again, hiding my face in my hands. Edward chuckled at my discomfort. I picked up my notebook and hit him round the shoulder with it.

‘Ow! What was that for?’ He was still laughing.

‘Stop laughing at me.’

Edward composed himself and looked me in the eye.

‘You know I’m only doing it because I’m your brother. I have very little chances to mess with you otherwise. You’re too on the ball.’

‘Next time we’re making up an excuse.’

‘There may not be a next time.’

‘You think the job will be done by then?’

‘Yeah. Then we can go home and you can stop pestering me with questions.’

I shrugged at that. It was one of my specialties, winding everyone up with endless questions. I was starting to understand how dogs felt when they were begging their owners for walks. I was getting fidgety and crabby. I didn’t really know how long I was going to hold out like this. I then started doing something. I started to drum my fingers against the table. I changed the rhythm a few times, spice it up. It started to get on Edward’s nerves. He glared at me, giving the hint I had to stop. I held my hands up in surrender.

‘Are you that bored?’ Edward raised an eyebrow.

‘We’re on an OBBO. I’m allowed to be bored. Nothing has happened for nearly six hours.’ I pointed out.

‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Yeah it is. It’s worse than getting babysat by the family.’

‘Were we that bad?’

‘I nearly blew up the base because Uncle Mark let me out of his sight and I found the gunpowder and some matches. Harriet left me to play with a pot of chocolate. I got it everywhere. John let me out of his sight and I nearly took off your arm with a sword. You were pretty bad.’

‘Not quite as good as we thought we were then.’

‘I got gunpowder and chocolate on your clothes. You had to throw out half of them.’

‘We had to do the same with a lot of yours. You kept growing out of them.’

‘I was a kid. It happens.’

‘That’s why I didn’t get mad. We had to get rid of a lot of yours too. You were a mucky puppy and you still are.’

‘You are such an annoying brother.’

‘I do my best.’

I looked back out the window and saw movement at the house we were meant to be watching. Light poured out their front door. Two figures started to block the light.

‘They’re on the move.’

We both looked out the window and saw on the ground floor two hooded figures sauntering down the road. I grabbed my radio and my Revolver. I got the Revolver into its holster before I got members of the British public calling it in they had an armed figure on their street.

‘We’d better call it in.’

‘To who? Base or home?’

‘Both. They’ll both want to know.’ Edward pulled out his phone and dashed out the door.

‘Charlie Zulu from 187, assistance required. Targets are on the move along Beckett Street towards Stanley Avenue. 73 is enroute to intercept, over.’ I called it in.

I grabbed the camera from the table and took images of the two figures leaving down the street. I caught sight of Edward on the street, running after the two figures. Edward drew his gun.

‘No. Edward, no!’

I froze, seeing the figures turn to face him. I took a picture of the figures, hoping to get their faces. The gun went off and I ran out the door. I flew down the stairs at speed and pegged it

out the building. I ran down the street and found it was completely empty. No one was nearby. I looked both ways and saw nothing. Edward was gone.

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