A Break from the Story and a ? to ask

 

 

HELP

So I’ve been contemplating writing for a living, how it’s done, how to get into it painlessly and how to avoid the inevitable feelings you get when your work is dismissed as “not worthy of publication”, whatever that means.. I mean I write for fun, and now I want to do it for profit, I am a great audio story teller, I love audiobook narration and telling the story and bringing it to life through characters, inflection, emotion and the like.

Now, I’ve gotten a “bump” so to speak from my higher power, I call him GOD and he pushed me to this group of people known as the “The Barefoot Writers Club” #barefootwritersclub and I am seriously thinking of joining the group, (for a small fee of course) and don’t get me wrong, I’m the first to recognize the “too good to be true” phenomenon and just blow past it and perhaps try and do this on my own without the support of others who like to write and make major bucks doing it.  But I think that if I write (type) like I speak , it should make for good readership right?  C’mon I need some encouragement here, need a push from my contemporaries who do this all day, everyday and can help me make this decision.

So…. if you would please leave a comment, a suggestion, hey I’ll even take critiques (criticism) of my work. I just need to know that I have indeed some sort of journalistic talent and that I CAN make a difference in this world plunging myself and my mind into its literary dungeon of wordsmithing.

Now.. back to the story.. where was I, oh yeah the year 2022 and the Jihadists have taken areas of our country and I and the other survivors of a dirty bomb have been captured after we, as guerrilla snipers picked off a bunch of them just south of Kilo Charlie….

Scott

3.24.22

10:26 Sierra

I don’t have much time here, we were captured just after taking out the Had’s one by one, we were not paying attention, and they found us, why we haven’t been put in cages and burned alive is beyond me, perhaps they want to use us as bait, or barter for something,, I don’t know, we’ve been put in an old bus, with bars welded on the windows, like something out of a movie, we get hard tack and water for meals twice a day, Bravo is close by, just out of sight across the street, someday’s, up on the roof on others, he barks to let me know he’s still alive, I can’t believe how stupid we were to not watch our backs.. drones have been hovering all day and night, they’re ours, Had’s aren’t savvy enough to have them.. someone is coming to help, they get closer everyday.. I feel it.. one of the few of these savages is a little friendly, he doesn’t speak English, but his body language is easy to understand, I think he feels like he is doing the wrong thing for the wrong reasons.. the leader of this band is yapping angrily at him from just outside the bus, he is waving his machete around wildly and gesturing towards us.. this can’t be good..

3.3.22

15:47 Sierra

they never knew what hit them, we began right at sundown, the most vulneralble time in their lives, when they let their guard down and we killed them all, one by one, their screams filled the night as we took the tiny little town back. i puked for about an hour as I thought to myself, this is the first time I’ve ever really  seen what I had done,, before it was always from a distance where I just sprayed metal all over the area and hoped to Christ I hit them.. this was the most brutal thing i’ve ever done to anyone, to watch them instantly die and thinking that I had done what God had forbidden us to do and that was to kill another human being.. I can’t even imagine what it was like in all the other wars for those kids.. I’m an old fucking man now and I never thought I would see the day that I would have to resort to this type of violence to protect my freedom and the freedom so many before have fallen for.. as we made our way down the hillside from our positions, the people that had been hiding came out.. slowly at first then pouring out from all kinds of nooks an crannys in what is left of this little town. we found a flag in a burnt out hardware store and although it was slightly burnt we fashioned a pole with some twine and put the American Flag up on top of the highest building slid the pole between stacks of bricks to keep it straight up, if the Hads come again they’ll know we’re here and the people will stand their ground… I am still crying..

3.2.22

14:25 Sierra

its been almost a week and we’ve moved way past the city, took fuel from every empty and not burnt or blown up vehicle we could find, the boys are becoming better at sighting enemy and to follow their trail, we’ve been tracking the Hads for about 2 days, idiots leave a trail of candy wrappers, porn and smoldering fire pits that are easy to map.. katie is on point leading the way.. she’s an amazing kid, about 23 or so i’d guess.. curses like a sailor and takes no crap from her mates.. we are setting up a snare of sorts, will pick them off one by one, mully (it’s what I call him, have no clue what his real name is, its a nickname for mulligan , he’s always asking me to try again when trying to do something, mostly dangerous) has developed a sound suppressor for my hastily put together sniper rifle, this old 30-06 has been around for almost a 100 years but it shoots straight as hell and will blow the head off anyone.. he put this thing together with a piece of aluminum, some oil filters found in a blown apart gas station and some c-clamps.. works like a charm.. the sound at our end sounds like someone hitting you with a pillow.. they’ll never hear it coming.. they’ve set up a camp about a mile south of desoto, a ghost town now.. no Americans anywhere alive that we’ve found.. we start tonight, during their evening prayers. God forgive us, but this is OUR country not theirs and we’ll defend it….