1. Morning- Two chavs

Old man liviing in council estate sees early chav trouble in morning.

1.

Morning illumined Harold’s apartment like the beam of a flashlight. He parted the shades and gazed out onto the council estate.

Three balconies and three flights of stairs below, a teenage couple leaned against an oak tree, discussing matters quietly to themselves. The young boy donned a black jacket, zipped and baggy, as if three sizes too big. His nose jutted out like a sundial, shading one whole side of his face. 

The girl, pregnant, looked into his eyes uninterestedly, yet nodded at the words which flowed from his thin lips.

Harold sighed. This early in the morning? He thought, withdrawing from the window. 

The newly bought coffeemaker stood bold and dignified on the kitchen counter, already plugged in to the power outlet. It’s container beckoned to be filled, it’s power switch to be pressed. Harold inserted the coffee filter and water and slid the top into place, dabbing the power switch with the insides of his thumb. It whirred to life, groaning and grunting awake, gargling to work. 

Once done, Harold removed his brew and returned to his bedroom window, bed unkempt, blanket draping to the ground like the sad remnant of a dream.  

The couple appeared to be speaking much frantically now, the boy curling his lips back for every word as if for a feral growl. The girl flapped her arms about, shaking her head to his utterances, seemingly appalled by something happening, something happened, or something about to happen. 

Harold brought the mug up and sipped. Strong, unsweetened coffee cascaded by the back of his throat, filling his mouth with an acrid aftermath. Just how he fancied it.

He yanked the window open a smidge. The estate owners has advised him to pay no attention to the troubled youth inhabiting the area, as their scuffles and nips occurred daily. But with the morning young and the air fresh, curiosity got the better of him.   

“Well, you f*****g twat, you good for nothing b***h, you good for nothing c**t,” the boy roared, creeping closer and closer to her. The folds of his jacket sagged down past his thighs. Spittle accompanied his insults.  

She flailed back an inch. “Stop it! You hear, stop it! I didn’t say shite! The police would be the last I would ever give info to.”

The boy processed her pleas, then lunged, hands wound into tense fists, blood pulsing and fueling his rage. Harold yelped a small cry, holding it back at the last moment, backing away from the scene. The mug toppled onto the floor, a chip of the rim cracking off, coffee spilling. 

Something burned in his throat. Something clogged his breathing. He staggered back, reaching out and grasping the faded wallpaper for guidance. His legs felt ready to quiver beneath, and his throat grew increasingly dry. Gasping for breath, gasping for oxygen, he arched down into the bathroom sink, pushing with the back of his throat. He was dizzier, the walls around him swirling and twisting and contracting. He heaved forward. One final choke and a burst of dark brown liquid spewed into the sink, trailed down the drain, tinting the fake marble a darker hue. 

Harold's head cleared up and his stability returned. He remained there though, looking down past the drain, into darkness. 

That was close. Too close. You should be more careful. Hasn’t life taught you that?

Conscious and back to normalcy, his ears tightened to a sound that crashed through the house from the open window. 

The lolloping blare of ambulance sirens.

     

Author's Note

Enjoy.
Listened to The Killers while writing, not that anyone would really give a fuck haha

Reviews

[Robert Guttersohn]

Feral growl... I like that description.

[MichelleClay]

Wonderful imagery. I could picture the scene perfectly from the mouthy youths to practically tasting Harold’s coffee! This is good writing and leaves the reader wanting more. Well done.

[Joe Shetina]

I like an erratic piece. I can imagine this as a film, the juxtaposing images playing off of each other. There's a lot of imagination here. Good work.

[Ben Carey]

You seem to have a lot of useful feedback already, so i'll keep it brief. I really like the contained and simple opening chapter, you know what you're doing with the overall narrative and what not. The chapter length is great, bite sized. I'd like maybe a tiny bit more description about Harold, even if you are planning to unleash some more in the next chapter. I think the dialogue could use a bit of work to make it a little more natural, at the moment if feels a little like they know you're writing about them (I know that sounds insanely stupid, but I guess it makes sense if you think about it?). And there are a couple of clunky sentences, but i'm sure you know about them already. All in all it's a fantastic first go at a first chapter...and look at that, that wasn't brief at all was it?

[Susanna F]

You've definitely drawn me in with this chapter! It is brief, vivid and evokes a lot of emotion. I'll be reading more of your work. And many thanks for your review of Most High, by the way.

[Belator Books]

The imagery presented here is very well done for such a young writer (this is in no way an insult). Two tips: describe the room the old man stands in first, then talk about him moving around in it; that way you are not describing several things as he moves about, a thing which tends to distract from the action.

The other tip is when conveying thoughts they are most often written (at least in modern fiction) in Italics, using regular punctuation: "This early in the morning? He thought" is an awkwardly worded-statement, and assumes too much; the reader doesn't know what "this" is, nor are they familiar with the daily routine (yet) of the character. A better way to word it might be: Harold sighed, shaking his head. "Another spat," he murmured. "Just what I wanted t' see this early in t' morning..." The thing (the fight) has now been named so the reader knows which noun the character is thinking of, and that this has happened before as well as the approximate time of day.

There was a bit of a 'telling' feeling to this piece, but only enough to where it could be easily remedied to show more; calling the girl pregnant for instance could be re-written to show that she is, perhaps by describing how her pronounced belly shows in her clothes; the character could comment to himself how she looks to be ___ months along, or might say "She looks ready to hatch that kid any day now..."

The last thing I noted as out of place was the use of 'tightened' to describe how Harold hears the sound "crashing through his window". His ears pricked up, attuned to, he turned towards the sound... any of these would be a better description than "tightened", a word more associated with sight and touch realms.

These are just examples... guidelines for correcting the things which jumped out at me as interfering with the flow and imagery of the piece. Harry Brown was an intense film, one which permanently removed London for my "visit someday" list, but you've--so far--put your own flavor into the plot described, which is a feat in of itself. You also didn't make the mistake of saying 'too much' about the scene, characters and goings-on, also difficult to do. I was happy to review this; thank you for the candid request. Keep up the pen.

[Nicole]

Post the next chapterrrrr. I wanna know what happens next.

[Omar Fendri]

The description here is astonishing and carefully well-written... Lot of expressions that worth keeping in my mind and the whole story is a pleasure to re-read.
You had me thinking about what's going on with Harold in the very last lines...
I liked the most the scene of the teenage couple... It is well expressed and perfectly painted.
waiting for the rest of your story.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A trusted start, very, very erratic in the exection of the style but has potential, well done, good read.

[Plagued Monumentally]

"Three balconies and three flights of stairs below, a teenage couple leaned against an oak tree, discussing matters quietly to themselves"
I think it should be among themselves.

I don't really get it what you're doing with this. All of a sudden I was reading about coffee, then a boy hitting the girl, and then all of a sudden Harold is getting sick. But its a good start, I really loved the powerful description you gave here. And you're only 14? Wow, I'm starting to like this generation more and more.