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One Night on the Front End...[One Shot][True Story]


Thar

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I noticed that writing true stories was MUCH easier than writing fiction. Even if you include a little fiction in the true story, it makes it so much easier. But this, my friends, is 100% a true story written in my perspective as of 4 hours ago. Take a look.

[spoiler=What I Saw - 1299 words]At work my job was to run things across a scanner, but the only thing I scanned was the tension taking place at the front of the store. There was hate in the eyes of every person involved, even the manager on duty, whom stood just along the sides in attempt to water down the heat. But it was no use. As disdainful stares and vile words flung back and forth for the whole store to see, I could do nothing but take deep breaths and continue to ring up customers so that they could get out while they could; before things got out of control.

My legs were shaking. Every word that attacked my eardrums sent shivers down my spine. At this point, anytime a penny could drop on the floor, a gun could be whipped out and shot to deafen any unaware witnesses nearby. I was certainly waiting for that to happen, but I was not prepared to have a bullet whizz by my head like a wasp on cocaine. There was no gun, though, but as I glanced over my shoulder, the lady loudest of them all had her fingers in the shape of one up against one of the mens’ heads.

“B*tch, you think you own me?!” She shouted so loud that it echoed, even though the vastest space in the area was the front window, which was not very big. “I ain’t made of money, ya know! Hell, you mothaf*ckas can’t have ANY of it even if it f*cking GREW on me!”

Kori, the manager on duty, could not be heard talking over the feud. All I saw was her hands gesturing outwards as if she was casting a spell to lower the volume. It did no good. In fact, the volume increased.

“WHO THE F*CK YOU THINK YOU ARE, N*GGA?!” Her voice was like a spear lunging into my brain. The finger gun she held looked like it was actually going to shoot something out. “MOTHAF*CKA, YOU SHOULD BE KNOWIN’ WHO [i]I[/i] AM!!”

“Hey, there are KIDS around, woman. F*CK YOU!” Yelled a guy in one of the aisles.

“F*CK YOU!” The woman retaliated. This made me sulk in both annoyance and disappointment. Either way, the situation was nearly uncontrollable, but still; why does that always have to be the comeback?

Still shaking, I continued to run items across the scanner, flushing the fear from my face while controlling my voice to ask them the questions I was trained to ask. It was all adrenaline, though. If it was skill that kept me calm, I’d be in the police force right now. Damn, how I wished I was taller so I could be in uniform in this situation.

The look in the woman’s eyes was perilous, even indirectly. I could literally feel the weight she was putting on the man who made contact with it. The man, however, did not feel weighted down. He only backed out of it and fired back with his own body language. There was a voice in there, but I could barely hear it.

“N*GGA, WHY YOU BACK OFF LIKE A B*TCH? YOU NEVER SEEN A BLACK WOMAN BEFORE?!”

Oh yeah, she was black. And she was angry, which, in my opinion, is about as intimidating as it gets. The tone of voice, the volume, and worst of all, the eye contact. One look from an angry black woman can send a redneck homeless guy even deeper into Hell than he already is, and that’s what I thought of that man. Lord knows what’s going on in that helpless, needy mind of his. But one thing was for sure: The man was more angry than scared. The only reason why he backed off was to avoid the woman’s swinging fists. Other than that, his backfiring words told the story of experience. This was not new to him.

The same guy from the aisle shot out another comment, “Woman, just quit and F*CK OFF! YOU’RE ONLY EMBARRASING YOURSELF!” These words made the most sense in the whole argument, and I started nodding my head without knowing it.

The woman started to approach him further, about to strike him cold. But Kori’s arm shot out in defense of the situation. I expected the black woman to push her aside, but reluctantly she backed off a little. However, when things started to settle, the homeless man shot out a personal statement that sent the woman’s boyfriend flailing.

Kori could not keep the man back. His arms were like spinning maces, nearly knocked her to her knees in pain. I was frozen. Things have gotten physical, and it was headed in my direction. The black woman was screaming, “MOTHAF*CKA CALL ME FAT, WELL AT LEAST I GOT SOMETHING ON ME, YA WHITE TRASH B*TCH!” The rambling continued, but I was focused on the fight. The two men started knocking down shopping baskets before the homeless guy was thrown into the front of my register, grunting out more insults. His voice was so grainy I couldn’t make out what he said, but a fist from the other guy came shooting over towards my face, and I had little time to respond.

It all appeared to be in slow motion, but the fist was just inches away from my face before my head started to duck below it. I dared not to look up as it shot over me. The momentum made the man tumble over into the gathering area of the food items followed by the sound of more grunting and cussing. I watched as he toppled over onto my kneeling body like a ragdoll. I felt him pushing vigorously to get off. It felt like I was in a moshpit being pushed in such a way in such a small space, so I turned to instinct and pushed back only to send him flying into the pole behind me.

I felt like a statue brought to life; living only to conjure the duties of my summoner. I felt neither pain nor pleasure, but the adrenaline soon dyed down and I felt both ease in. I stared at the man as he struggled to his feet, angrier than ever. By the time I was backed over the bagging area with his gaze, the flashing lights of red and blue through the front window made me sigh with relief, however at the same time his fist attempted to make another meeting with my face. Reflex saved my life again as I ducked out of the way and, at the same time, blindly grabbed his forearm with both hands and flipped him onto the register, pinning him with strength I could not believe.

My arms locked as he struggled to get free, and I felt like a superhero in front of the cop that ran in to cuff the guy. The homeless man was escorted out of the building as the cussing black woman continued to ramble at the officer, requiring back-up to escort [i]herself[/i] out. With my hands finally free of clutching the man’s arm, I sat on the floor in exhaustion. Had that all been luck? What if one thing went wrong? I’d probably have a broken face.

My vision was blurred, but I could see Kori being helped up only to be up and fine on her own, waving the officers away. Another sigh of relief brought back some consciousness, getting me back on my feet. There were luckily no more customers, so I stood waiting like I usually do. I felt like I was the only one there, but when Kori came up and turned my light off, I looked back to see two other employees talking about what just happened.

I got the message. I clocked out and went home.[/spoiler]

Aside from the story itself, based on what you read, what can I improve with my writing overall?

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[spoiler=]At work my job was to run things across a scanner, but the only thing I scanned was the tension taking place at the front of the store. There was hate in the eyes of every person involved, even the manager on duty, whom stood just along the sides in attempt to water down the heat. But it was no use. As disdainful stares and vile words flung back and forth for the whole store to see, I could do nothing but take deep breaths and continue to ring up customers so that they could get out while they could; before things got out of control.

My legs were shaking. Every word that attacked my eardrums sent shivers down my spine. At this point, anytime a penny could drop on the floor, a gun could be whipped out and shot to deafen any unaware witnesses nearby [b](I don't understand this sentence)[/b]. I was certainly waiting for that to happen, but I was not prepared to have a bullet whizz by my head like a wasp on cocaine[b](If you're prepared for it to happen, how can you not be ready? By definition, being prepared means being ready)[/b]. There was no gun, though, but as I glanced over my shoulder, the lady loudest of them all had her fingers in the shape of one up against one of the mens’ heads.

“B*tch, you think you own me?!” She shouted so loud that it echoed, even though the vastest space in the area was the front window, which was not very big[b](awkward sentence)[/b]. “I ain’t made of money, ya know! Hell, you mothaf*ckas can’t have ANY of it even if it f*cking GREW on me!”

Kori, the manager on duty, could not be heard [s]talking[/s] over the feud. All I saw was her hands gesturing outwards as if she was casting a spell to lower the volume. It did no good. In fact, the volume increased.

“WHO THE F*CK YOU THINK YOU ARE, N*GGA?!” Her voice was like a spear lunging into my brain. The finger gun she held looked like it was actually going to shoot something out. “MOTHAF*CKA, YOU SHOULD BE KNOWIN’ WHO [i]I[/i] AM!!”

“Hey, there are KIDS around, woman. F*CK YOU!” Yelled a guy in one of the aisles.

“F*CK YOU!” The woman retaliated. This made me sulk in both annoyance and disappointment. Either way, the situation was nearly uncontrollable, but still; why does that always have to be the comeback?[b](this sentence really doesn't add anything to the story)[/b]

Still shaking, I continued to run items across the scanner, flushing the fear from my face while controlling my voice to ask them the questions I was trained to ask. It was all adrenaline, though. If it was skill that kept me calm, I’d be in the police force right now. Damn, how I wished I was taller so I could be in uniform in this situation[b](I don't understand)[/b].

The look in the woman’s eyes was perilous, even indirectly. I could [s]literally[/s] [b](no, you can't.) [/b]feel the weight she was putting on the man who made contact with it. The man, however, did not feel weighted down. He only backed out of it and fired back with his own body language. There was a voice in there, but I could barely hear it.

“N*GGA, WHY YOU BACK OFF LIKE A B*TCH? YOU NEVER SEEN A BLACK WOMAN BEFORE?!”

Oh yeah, she was black. And she was angry, which, in my opinion, is about as intimidating as it gets. The tone of voice, the volume, and worst of all, the eye contact. One look from an angry black woman can send a redneck homeless guy even deeper into Hell than he already is[b](so homeless rednecks are in hell?)[/b], and that’s what I thought of that man. Lord knows what’s going on in that helpless, needy mind of his. But one thing was for sure: The man was more angry than scared. The only reason [s]why[/s] he backed off was to avoid the woman’s swinging fists. Other than that, his backfiring words told the story of experience. This was not new to him.

The same guy from the aisle shot out another comment, “Woman, just quit and F*CK OFF! YOU’RE ONLY EMBARRASING YOURSELF!” These words made the most sense in the whole argument, and I started nodding my head without knowing it.

The woman started to approach him further, about to strike him cold. But Kori’s arm shot out in defense of the situation. I expected the black woman to push her aside, but reluctantly she backed off a little. However, when things started to settle, the homeless man shot out a personal statement that sent the woman’s boyfriend flailing. [b](Her boyfriend is there too? You need to set up the scene better)[/b]

Kori could not keep the man back. His arms were like spinning maces, nearly knocked her to her knees [s]in pain[/s]. I was frozen. Things have gotten physical, and it was headed in my direction[b](again, set the scene up better, I don't really have an image of where you are in relation to the front of the store)[/b]. The black woman was screaming, “MOTHAF*CKA CALL ME FAT, WELL AT LEAST I GOT SOMETHING ON ME, YA WHITE TRASH B*TCH!” The rambling continued, but I was focused on the fight. The two men started knocking down shopping baskets before the homeless guy was thrown into the front of my register, grunting out more insults. His voice was so grainy I couldn’t make out what he said, but a fist from the other guy came shooting over towards my face, and I had little time to respond.

It all appeared to be in slow motion, but the fist was just inches away from my face before my head started to duck below it. I dared not to look up as it shot over me. The momentum made the man tumble over into the gathering area of the food items followed by the sound of more grunting and cussing. I watched as he toppled over onto my kneeling body like a ragdoll. I felt him pushing vigorously to get off. It felt like I was in a moshpit [s]being pushed in such a way in such a small space[/s], so I turned to instinct and pushed back [s]only to[/s] send[b]ing[/b] him flying into the pole behind me.

I felt like a statue brought to life; living only to conjure the duties of my summoner. I felt neither pain nor pleasure, but the adrenaline soon [s]dyed[/s] [b]died [/b]down and I felt both ease in. I stared at the man as he struggled to his feet, angrier than ever. By the time I was backed over the bagging area with his gaze, the flashing lights of red and blue through the front window made me sigh with relief, however at the same time his fist attempted to make another meeting with my face. Reflex saved my life again as I ducked out of the way and, at the same time, blindly grabbed his forearm with both hands and flipped him onto the register, pinning him with strength I could not believe.

My arms locked as he struggled to get free, and I felt like a superhero in front of the cop that ran in to cuff the guy. The homeless man was escorted out of the building as the cussing black woman continued to ramble at the officer, requiring back-up to escort [i]herself[/i] out. With my hands finally free of clutching the man’s arm, I sat on the floor in exhaustion. Had that all been luck? What if one thing went wrong? I’d probably have a broken face.

My vision was blurred, but I could see Kori being helped up only to be up and fine on her own, waving the officers away. Another sigh of relief brought back some consciousness, getting me back on my feet. There were luckily no more customers, so I stood waiting like I usually do. I felt like I was the only one there, but when Kori came up and turned my light off, I looked back to see two other employees talking about what just happened.

I got the message. I clocked out and went home.[/spoiler]

[b]You need to develop the setting better. I'm not even sure what kind of store you work in. It seems like you're trying to be pretty lyrical with your sentences, but it's not really doing it for me, a lot of them just feel awkward. I'd like a bit more description of everyone, it all felt very vague. I get that this is a non-fictional story, so you don't have too much wriggle room, but the ending gives a bit of a "so what?" kind of feeling-- the narrator is very passive within the story until the end, and then he just kind of goes home.[/b]

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That seems to be a minor flaw for me. Once I get past the first paragraph, I tend to lose sight of where I am and focus on the action.

But setting all specifics aside, on a scale of 1 to 10, what would you rate the grasp of it? Cause that's what I'm working on.

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I agree as well - the language in this story seemed a bit forced, and it did not accomplish what it was meant to: which is to help the reader better understand perspectives and emotions (or something like that). I actually enjoyed the lack of description - it helped me visualize the situation better; however, this can be a different situation for different audiences.

Other than that, it's a excellent story. If I had to rate it out of ten, I would probably give it an eight to nine. I don't want to advise anything, as I am a bit lost as to how you wanted to tell this story. I'm in no position to advise much, really.

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The problem is, even in the first paragraph I don't get a clear sense of where everything is. Maybe that's just me.

What do you mean "the grasp of it"? As in, how well did I comprehend the events of the story? Probably around an 8. I got the basic chain of events down, but I was unclear about some of the spatial positioning and there were some sentences in there that I didn't understand what they meant/their purpose.

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[quote name='Vairocana' timestamp='1332794533' post='5889721']
What do you mean "the grasp of it"? As in, how well did I comprehend the events of the story? Probably around an 8. I got the basic chain of events down, but I was unclear about some of the spatial positioning and there were some sentences in there that I didn't understand what they meant/their purpose.
[/quote]

By grasp I meant the attention getter. As in, "did the first few sentences make you want to read more?" grasp.

As for spacial positioning, I find it rather unnecessary to describe exactly where everyone is standing. It's overexerting, in my opinion. I just prefer to describe where they're going rather than where they are at what time. It just promotes the progress of the action and the story, which I prefer over over-detailed settings.

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[i]As for spacial positioning, I find it rather unnecessary to describe exactly where everyone is standing.[/i]


Eeeeeeh, I'm not asking for a detailed play-by-play of where everything is exactly at all times forever, I just think that there could be a little [i]more[/i] at the start. But it's your story and your writing style, you do with it what you like.


[i]By grasp I meant the attention getter. As in, "did the first few sentences make you want to read more?" grasp.[/i]

Oh. Uh...Yes, I think it worked well as an attention-getter. I'm not sure I get the pay off by the end of the story though (where your attention getter immediately raises the question (at least for me) of [i]what are they arguing about?[/i], which is never really answered).

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[quote name='Vairocana' timestamp='1332829286' post='5890509']
Oh. Uh...Yes, I think it worked well as an attention-getter. I'm not sure I get the pay off by the end of the story though (where your attention getter immediately raises the question (at least for me) of [i]what are they arguing about?[/i], which is never really answered).
[/quote]

Well, I tried to hint off the reason with the homeless guy and the black woman b*tching about giving him money, which is how it started in the parking lot. What I saw was when it got dragged into the store.

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