For all Writers

[usama321]

Hi everyone!

There seems to be no proper thread for people who write stories, fiction etc. Therefore, i am creating this thread, hoping that all the people who love writing can post their stories here.

The intention of making this thread is not to just post our stories, and display our works.

I am creating this thread so that we may criticize each others' works, encourage each other, and provide inspiration to others. I am sure that sharing our works and getting them reviewed by our fellow writers would without a doubt encourage us all to write more and better.

There are a few rules though:

1: Only post your own works here.

2: Either post to display your work, or to discuss someone else's work with him/her, and review it. No off topic posting please.

3: No negative criticism is allowed. Don't be harsh while reviewing someone else's work. Be positive, polite and encouraging. Any harsh criticism would be reported.

4: Please do not just praise or criticize someone's work without any proper bases. If you like someone's work, please share why you like it. If you don't like someone's work, please post why you don't like it. IF YOU JUST LIKE SOMEONE'S WORK AND CAN'T THINK OF ANY REASON, THERE IS ALWAYS THE LIKE BUTTON

5: You can submit stories/short stories/flash fiction of any genre, as long as there is no abusive or inappropriate content in it. And pls, NO POETRY. There is already a great thread for poetry made by epiphany, i think.

That's pretty much it.

Muhammad TAimoor VelaneDeBeaute Rutzaba AlishaK arlery

Please do tag people if they like to write.

 

[usama321]

I'll get things rolling by posting one of my own stories Don't forget to read the rules before posting

​

The White Birds​

Genre: Fiction



They were back once again, the third time this week. Everytime they came, mother would forbid him from going outside their small brick house, or rather, all the mothers in their small village would lock the doors of their houses. Only the grown ups were allowed to go outside, though they too preferred to stay inside.


And he hated it, for it was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. He loved those big white birds, as they flew around, circling in the air, emitting a strange whizzing sound. He wanted to get hold of one of them, and go flying around the village, and surprise his father and his flock of goat outside the village, and smack Ahmad the neighbour’s kid for bullying him. He had even gotten his hands on a rope to catch the big birds this time, but as always his mother had called him inside, and locked the doors as soon as he was inside.

So once again, he sat down with a thud on the rough carpeted floor beside his mother, and fantasized about catching a bird and adventuring on it. The birds hummed and buzzed outside, and their sweet sound was a constant agony to his mind. Then, for the hundredth time that day, he asked his mother.

“Why can’t we go outside now?” he complained

Ayesha looked up, distracted once again from the woollen sweater she was sewing. And for the hundredth time that day, she patted his head lovingly. She loved him more than anyone in the world, as he was their only child. How could she tell him the truth, a truth so dark and horrible it would escape the grasp of his innocent mind? So she just pecked on his chubby rosy cheek, and refused him once again.

“But i want to catch them mother, you know i could go flying around the village on them” he said, swooshing his hand around in the air, and started running around the room.

And she could not help but smile, seeing that elated expression on the face of her four year old son, as his black hair flew in the air, and his dark eyes sparkled with sheer happiness, lost in a world of their own. At that moment, seeing her son running around happily in his old tattered clothes, her life felt almost perfect……..

Except for the birds that preyed outside. They left a lingering fear in her heart, a fear of the atrocities they could perform, a fear so stark and raw it had taken all her resolve to continue her life under this roof, after the first time they had come.
Thus Talha spent the day inside the house, and a humble mud bricks house it was, and had only two rooms. There was nothing of notice in the main room, for they could hardly afford the basic necessities of life, and the nearest market was too far anyway. A small red rug lay in the middle, which too had been sewn by his mother, and dust rose out of it with each step. Underneath the rug was the bare brown of the earth, which was as hard and lifeless as stone. The walls were brown and bare too, making a dreary match with the earth. At one side was the old wooden door, with cracks running down its length. It opened out on the street.

An old jet black radio sat on a shelf, and it was one of their rare links with the outside world. Abdullah, his father, loved it, and cleaned and dusted it every night, so that even though the thing had been already battered enough before his father had traded it from a friend, it lay there shining like a pampered child. Also, beside it rested some plates and glasses and other items of cutlery, which Ayesha had gathered with great care and pride over the years. In a corner lay some firewood. These were the meagre belongings of their household, and partly reflected the belongings of all the well to do families of the village. The not so well to do hardly survived.

“Know what mother, i decided a name for the birds” he suddenly said, still running around the room, sweat now glistening on his brow.

“And what would that be?” she asked, trying her best to feign interest.

“They look like the swans in my book, so i thought what about ‘big swans’?” he asked, as if waiting for her approval. He had given it much thought, and in the end, he had found this name to be the best. They sort of looked the same, with the white color, and the beak, and the white color again.

“That’s a good name” she replied, trying her best to bring a smile to her face. But a jolt had went through her when she had heard the name. ‘Swan’, the representative of peace and tranquility. How ironic.

Gradually the sun crawled its way across the blue sky, and ever so slowly, the whizzing of the birds faded away in the dusk, until it left behind nothing but an itching memory. Abdullah was away to the local market – which was by no means in the locality – to sell goats. And he did not dare touch the old radio, even though he wanted to dearly, for the two of them would sometimes listen to it well into the night, and he loved every moment of it.
Ayesha had gone to sleep after offering the evening prayer in the other room, and he too laid down his blanket on the rug. For a long time he lay on the thin tattered blanket ,desperately trying to fall asleep. But the hum of the birds was stuck in his mind, playing over and over, like one of those faulty cassette tapes his father had brought that constantly played the same song again and again.

It had been a bawdy love song, and his mother had disapproved of it while Abdullah had kept listening to it with a dreamy expression on his face. He remembered the music so well, how the flute had woven beautiful notes in the background, and the voice of the man, it had been so vibrant, and buzzy. He had liked that buzzing voice so much……….

He sat up with a start. There was that sound again. His heart thudded against his chest, as that familiar sound set the blood racing through his veins. It was like a music to his ears now, a music so pleasant it pulled him.

Mother must be asleep, or she would have already come barging out of the room. I can go after it, i can catch it after all. His face lit up with a smile then, as he tiptoed across the room, grabbed the rope he had put on the shelf, and slowly opened the main door. His blood froze in his veins, as the door creaked and moaned, and the noise felt like blasts in the silence of the night.

But she did not wake after all, and he was soon outside on the street. The moon had waxed to its full glory that night, and it cast a silvery glow on the land. The street was lined with brick houses on both sides, and was narrow and the earth dry and hard. But his thoughts were somewhere else, as he hurried outside on his small legs, and looked ever upwards, in search of the birds in the dark sky.

Suddenly something blocked the moonlight, and a chill of excitement ran through him, as he saw the flash of white in the sky. He hurried then, and started running after it, running blindly through the streets, and occasionally following just the hum of the bird when he lost sight of it. It seemed to be headed out of the village, and he followed it without a second thought, intent on his mission, to catch the bird after all. The bird seemed to circle in the air for some time before continuing on its path, and he was able to keep pace.

He did not notice he was out of the village now, nor that he was running with bare feet. The hard earth and the stones were nothing but insignificant nuisances to his mind. The only significant problem was that he was panting badly, and he paused occasionally to catch his breath.

The bird is going to land somewhere after all. That’s when i’ll catch it, he thought gleefully.

It was then that the bird moved in a circle, and slowly it changed its direction, until it faced the village once more. He saw that pointed beak, as the moonlight shined on it, and his eyes lit up. It’s going to land after all.

Suddenly, something long shot out from beneath the bird. The thing’s tail was on fire, as it traveled with a swooshing sound towards the village.

There was a loud bang then, and the silence of the night was filled with a deafening roar. Looking back, he saw that the whole village seemed to be lit up, as if basking in some great campfire. There was another loud roar, and another one, and the whole night seemed to be lit up now.

He forgot all about the bird then, mesmerized by the strange turn of events. Slowly, he came back to his senses.

Fireworks? At this time of the night?, he thought happily, as he hurried back to the village, forgetting all about the “white bird”

 

[danial 234]

Bilal Khan

 

[***amd***]

I'll get things rolling by posting one of my own stories Don't forget to read the rules before posting

​

The White Birds​

Genre: Fiction



They were back once again, the third time this week. Everytime they came, mother would forbid him from going outside their small brick house, or rather, all the mothers in their small village would lock the doors of their houses. Only the grown ups were allowed to go outside, though they too preferred to stay inside.


And he hated it, for it was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. He loved those big white birds, as they flew around, circling in the air, emitting a strange whizzing sound. He wanted to get hold of one of them, and go flying around the village, and surprise his father and his flock of goat outside the village, and smack Ahmad the neighbour’s kid for bullying him. He had even gotten his hands on a rope to catch the big birds this time, but as always his mother had called him inside, and locked the doors as soon as he was inside.

So once again, he sat down with a thud on the rough carpeted floor beside his mother, and fantasized about catching a bird and adventuring on it. The birds hummed and buzzed outside, and their sweet sound was a constant agony to his mind. Then, for the hundredth time that day, he asked his mother.

“Why can’t we go outside now?” he complained

Ayesha looked up, distracted once again from the woollen sweater she was sewing. And for the hundredth time that day, she patted his head lovingly. She loved him more than anyone in the world, as he was their only child. How could she tell him the truth, a truth so dark and horrible it would escape the grasp of his innocent mind? So she just pecked on his chubby rosy cheek, and refused him once again.

“But i want to catch them mother, you know i could go flying around the village on them” he said, swooshing his hand around in the air, and started running around the room.

And she could not help but smile, seeing that elated expression on the face of her four year old son, as his black hair flew in the air, and his dark eyes sparkled with sheer happiness, lost in a world of their own. At that moment, seeing her son running around happily in his old tattered clothes, her life felt almost perfect……..

Except for the birds that preyed outside. They left a lingering fear in her heart, a fear of the atrocities they could perform, a fear so stark and raw it had taken all her resolve to continue her life under this roof, after the first time they had come.
Thus Talha spent the day inside the house, and a humble mud bricks house it was, and had only two rooms. There was nothing of notice in the main room, for they could hardly afford the basic necessities of life, and the nearest market was too far anyway. A small red rug lay in the middle, which too had been sewn by his mother, and dust rose out of it with each step. Underneath the rug was the bare brown of the earth, which was as hard and lifeless as stone. The walls were brown and bare too, making a dreary match with the earth. At one side was the old wooden door, with cracks running down its length. It opened out on the street.

An old jet black radio sat on a shelf, and it was one of their rare links with the outside world. Abdullah, his father, loved it, and cleaned and dusted it every night, so that even though the thing had been already battered enough before his father had traded it from a friend, it lay there shining like a pampered child. Also, beside it rested some plates and glasses and other items of cutlery, which Ayesha had gathered with great care and pride over the years. In a corner lay some firewood. These were the meagre belongings of their household, and partly reflected the belongings of all the well to do families of the village. The not so well to do hardly survived.

“Know what mother, i decided a name for the birds” he suddenly said, still running around the room, sweat now glistening on his brow.

“And what would that be?” she asked, trying her best to feign interest.

“They look like the swans in my book, so i thought what about ‘big swans’?” he asked, as if waiting for her approval. He had given it much thought, and in the end, he had found this name to be the best. They sort of looked the same, with the white color, and the beak, and the white color again.

“That’s a good name” she replied, trying her best to bring a smile to her face. But a jolt had went through her when she had heard the name. ‘Swan’, the representative of peace and tranquility. How ironic.

Gradually the sun crawled its way across the blue sky, and ever so slowly, the whizzing of the birds faded away in the dusk, until it left behind nothing but an itching memory. Abdullah was away to the local market – which was by no means in the locality – to sell goats. And he did not dare touch the old radio, even though he wanted to dearly, for the two of them would sometimes listen to it well into the night, and he loved every moment of it.
Ayesha had gone to sleep after offering the evening prayer in the other room, and he too laid down his blanket on the rug. For a long time he lay on the thin tattered blanket ,desperately trying to fall asleep. But the hum of the birds was stuck in his mind, playing over and over, like one of those faulty cassette tapes his father had brought that constantly played the same song again and again.

It had been a bawdy love song, and his mother had disapproved of it while Abdullah had kept listening to it with a dreamy expression on his face. He remembered the music so well, how the flute had woven beautiful notes in the background, and the voice of the man, it had been so vibrant, and buzzy. He had liked that buzzing voice so much……….

He sat up with a start. There was that sound again. His heart thudded against his chest, as that familiar sound set the blood racing through his veins. It was like a music to his ears now, a music so pleasant it pulled him.

Mother must be asleep, or she would have already come barging out of the room. I can go after it, i can catch it after all. His face lit up with a smile then, as he tiptoed across the room, grabbed the rope he had put on the shelf, and slowly opened the main door. His blood froze in his veins, as the door creaked and moaned, and the noise felt like blasts in the silence of the night.

But she did not wake after all, and he was soon outside on the street. The moon had waxed to its full glory that night, and it cast a silvery glow on the land. The street was lined with brick houses on both sides, and was narrow and the earth dry and hard. But his thoughts were somewhere else, as he hurried outside on his small legs, and looked ever upwards, in search of the birds in the dark sky.

Suddenly something blocked the moonlight, and a chill of excitement ran through him, as he saw the flash of white in the sky. He hurried then, and started running after it, running blindly through the streets, and occasionally following just the hum of the bird when he lost sight of it. It seemed to be headed out of the village, and he followed it without a second thought, intent on his mission, to catch the bird after all. The bird seemed to circle in the air for some time before continuing on its path, and he was able to keep pace.

He did not notice he was out of the village now, nor that he was running with bare feet. The hard earth and the stones were nothing but insignificant nuisances to his mind. The only significant problem was that he was panting badly, and he paused occasionally to catch his breath.

The bird is going to land somewhere after all. That’s when i’ll catch it, he thought gleefully.

It was then that the bird moved in a circle, and slowly it changed its direction, until it faced the village once more. He saw that pointed beak, as the moonlight shined on it, and his eyes lit up. It’s going to land after all.

Suddenly, something long shot out from beneath the bird. The thing’s tail was on fire, as it traveled with a swooshing sound towards the village.

There was a loud bang then, and the silence of the night was filled with a deafening roar. Looking back, he saw that the whole village seemed to be lit up, as if basking in some great campfire. There was another loud roar, and another one, and the whole night seemed to be lit up now.

He forgot all about the bird then, mesmerized by the strange turn of events. Slowly, he came back to his senses.

Fireworks? At this time of the night?, he thought happily, as he hurried back to the village, forgetting all about the “white bird”

your story is simple adorable, cuz its too lengthy and I wonder how ou had this much stamina to type it ya

 

[usama321]

your story is simple adorable, cuz its too lengthy and I wonder how ou had this much stamina to type it ya

It's not that lengthy.

Thanks for the feedback. Though, as i said in the rules, please share why you like/dislike it, cuz that would help me.

 

[***amd***]

It's not that lengthy.

Thanks for the feedback. Though, as i said in the rules, please share why you like/dislike it, cuz that would help me.

By the way I couldn't read it all just 1st 5 para.s

 

[usama321]

By the way I couldn't read it all just 1st 5 para.s

lol kk. Was that because its too boring and slow paced, or because you are not used to reading long stories? (even though it is a short story )

 

[ZKhanXZ]

I posted one of mine on a thread under off topic! I don't feel lyk posting it here again... so u could check it out there! and gimme ur comments!

 

[***amd***]

lol kk. Was that because its too boring and slow paced, or because you are not used to reading long stories? (even though it is a short story )

I only read stories of O/L style, when reading on Computer

 

[***amd***]

howz this one?

 

[usama321]

howz this one?
View attachment 31295View attachment 31296View attachment 31297

That was a good read.

I liked the first paragraph the best. You have written it in a great way, and how life was so meaningless for him.

In the second one, it kinda got confusing. Maybe you should put some emphasis on the fact that the rest of the story is a memory starting from here, and start using had instead of the past form.

There are a few minor mistakes, e-g some expressions that don't kind of fit in the story.

Now, coming to the plot, i actually don't like the romance genre, so i'd abstain from saying anything here .

Overall, its a good attempt, though maybe, you could have emphasized a bit more on her. What was her name? How was her voice? Maybe emphasize more on the tension in the air as he presented the flower to her. Good writing

 

[***amd***]

That was a good read.

I liked the first paragraph the best. You have written it in a great way, and how life was so meaningless for him.

In the second one, it kinda got confusing. Maybe you should put some emphasis on the fact that the rest of the story is a memory starting from here, and start using had instead of the past form.

There are a few minor mistakes, e-g some expressions that don't kind of fit in the story.

Now, coming to the plot, i actually don't like the romance genre, so i'd abstain from saying anything here .

Overall, its a good attempt, though maybe, you could have emphasized a bit more on her. What was her name? How was her voice? Maybe emphasize more on the tension in the air as he presented the flower to her. Good writing

never have I got such experience, how come can I be that good for this

 

[usama321]

never have I got such experience, how come can I be that good for this

Read. Read anything that interests you. The more you read, the better you'll get. Read for entertainment, and not for picking up expressions or words or vocabulary. Read, just for the love of it, and you will get better.
Don't forget to tag other people if you know them as the writing type

 

[***amd***]

Read. Read anything that interests you. The more you read, the better you'll get. Read for entertainment, and not for picking up expressions or words or vocabulary. Read, just for the love of it, and you will get better.
Don't forget to tag other people if you know them as the writing type

man I said, I have never involved in such relationship, Alhamduli(A)llah, mujhay in kay baaray may kis tarhan pata hoga!

 

[usama321]

man I said, I have never involved in such relationship, Alhamduli(A)llah, mujhay in kay baaray may kis tarhan pata hoga!

Relationship? What relationship? And you are saying Alhamdulillah cuz you don't read books? WOW

Leave this topic lets get back to the topic

 

[maya <3]

Okey dokey, here is the prolouge for my novella (DONT steal!! i will publish the some day!!)

Schroder ran as fast as he could to get away from the Russians, his eyes were watering as the icy air hit his face. He couldn’t see where he was going but that didn’t matter, he just had to get out of there. All of a sudden his foot got caught on a loose rock and he fell, face down, on the floor. He tried getting up but felt rough hands pull him up and pin him against a tree – holding a gun to his temple.
‘That’s enough playing Schroder,’ the Russian said. ‘Where are the launch codes?’ he pushed the gun closer to Schroder’s head, as if to make his point clear.
‘I-I won’t tell you, kill me and you will never find out.’ Schroder stammered, sweat dripping down his forehead. He realised that his leg was hurting but ignored it. The Russian ran his free hand through his blonde hair and punched Schroder in the stomach, making him recoil.
‘WHERE ARE THEY?’ The Russian roared, taking the safety off his gun. Schroder remained silent, tears beginning to sting his eyes.
‘If you’ll be like this, we’ll have to bring your wife into our little game, won’t we?’ the Russian smirked. Schroder stared at him with wide eyes, how did they find out about Adriana?
‘I’ll send them to the base.’ He murmured, defeated. The Russian smirked again, and dragged Schroder back to the building by his shirt.

Chapter #1
Aaron woke to the sound of his alarm clock ringing. He groaned and shoved it in his draw. Why on earth did he set it so early? He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his head, hoping that he would drift back to sleep soon. Drift back to the world full of parties and missions which he had completed...
All of a sudden he felt pressure at the end of his bed and his eyes shot open. In one swift movement he grabbed the gun from under his mattress and pointed it at the new-comer. He almost laughed out loud when he saw Agent Stevens, already dressed, holding the alarm clock and smiling cheekily.
‘Let me get this straight,’ Stevens began, ‘you joined Fortify in 2008 but you still can’t get up at half eight?’ He chucked the clock at Aaron who caught it and propped it back on his bedside-table.
‘Why should I have to get up?’ Aaron grumbled, ‘every other bloke gets to lie in on a Saturday, why can’t I?’
‘Because every other bloke isn’t one of America’s best spies.’ Stevens replied, ripping the blanket off Aaron and chucking it on the floor.
‘Stevens! Stop it! I’m not decent!’ Aaron sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling like he wanted to kill Stevens, no matter how close he was to him. Before he knew what was happening, Stevens was whacking him with a pillow and telling him to go and get dressed.
‘Fine! Ok I’m going.’ Aaron replied, stumbling to his bathroom.
He splashed water on his face and smiled, Stevens sure could be a pain in the backside at times but he was his best pal – his only pal now that he thought about it. He sighed and grabbed his hairbrush, though it really was no use. No matter how much he brushed his copper hair, it always stayed scruffy. Aaron grabbed his t-shirt and jeans and put them on before going back to his bedroom to find Stevens listening to something on his phone.
‘What is it?’ Aaron asked as he pulled on his socks.
‘Burns wants to see us today, something about a German, I dunno.’ Stevens replied looking a little confused.
‘Ha-ha! A German? You sure about that mate?’ Aaron was still laughing as they made their way to the hotel entrance to catch a taxi to HQ.

 

[***amd***]

maya <3
really its a pure adventurous novelist's style I have observed!
the start was very good
but as I am weaker in vocabulary, I couldnt pick out any fault.
BUT if you would have explained the surroundings, light effect, and such things that would have been better

 

[***amd***]

usama321 urdu short stories allowed?

 

[usama321]

Okey dokey, here is the prolouge for my novella (DONT steal!! i will publish the some day!!)

Schroder ran as fast as he could to get away from the Russians, his eyes were watering as the icy air hit his face. He couldn’t see where he was going but that didn’t matter, he just had to get out of there. All of a sudden his foot got caught on a loose rock and he fell, face down, on the floor. He tried getting up but felt rough hands pull him up and pin him against a tree – holding a gun to his temple.
‘That’s enough playing Schroder,’ the Russian said. ‘Where are the launch codes?’ he pushed the gun closer to Schroder’s head, as if to make his point clear.
‘I-I won’t tell you, kill me and you will never find out.’ Schroder stammered, sweat dripping down his forehead. He realised that his leg was hurting but ignored it. The Russian ran his free hand through his blonde hair and punched Schroder in the stomach, making him recoil.
‘WHERE ARE THEY?’ The Russian roared, taking the safety off his gun. Schroder remained silent, tears beginning to sting his eyes.
‘If you’ll be like this, we’ll have to bring your wife into our little game, won’t we?’ the Russian smirked. Schroder stared at him with wide eyes, how did they find out about Adriana?
‘I’ll send them to the base.’ He murmured, defeated. The Russian smirked again, and dragged Schroder back to the building by his shirt.

Chapter #1
Aaron woke to the sound of his alarm clock ringing. He groaned and shoved it in his draw. Why on earth did he set it so early? He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his head, hoping that he would drift back to sleep soon. Drift back to the world full of parties and missions which he had completed...
All of a sudden he felt pressure at the end of his bed and his eyes shot open. In one swift movement he grabbed the gun from under his mattress and pointed it at the new-comer. He almost laughed out loud when he saw Agent Stevens, already dressed, holding the alarm clock and smiling cheekily.
‘Let me get this straight,’ Stevens began, ‘you joined Fortify in 2008 but you still can’t get up at half eight?’ He chucked the clock at Aaron who caught it and propped it back on his bedside-table.
‘Why should I have to get up?’ Aaron grumbled, ‘every other bloke gets to lie in on a Saturday, why can’t I?’
‘Because every other bloke isn’t one of America’s best spies.’ Stevens replied, ripping the blanket off Aaron and chucking it on the floor.
‘Stevens! Stop it! I’m not decent!’ Aaron sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling like he wanted to kill Stevens, no matter how close he was to him. Before he knew what was happening, Stevens was whacking him with a pillow and telling him to go and get dressed.
‘Fine! Ok I’m going.’ Aaron replied, stumbling to his bathroom.
He splashed water on his face and smiled, Stevens sure could be a pain in the backside at times but he was his best pal – his only pal now that he thought about it. He sighed and grabbed his hairbrush, though it really was no use. No matter how much he brushed his copper hair, it always stayed scruffy. Aaron grabbed his t-shirt and jeans and put them on before going back to his bedroom to find Stevens listening to something on his phone.
‘What is it?’ Aaron asked as he pulled on his socks.
‘Burns wants to see us today, something about a German, I dunno.’ Stevens replied looking a little confused.
‘Ha-ha! A German? You sure about that mate?’ Aaron was still laughing as they made their way to the hotel entrance to catch a taxi to HQ.

Thats a good fast paced prologue you have written there, and it quickly drew me into the story

The chapter is written finely. I like the dialogues, and also the fact that you are not just skipping minor things (cuz its a novella, right?) and details.

There are a couple of things though.

1. Descriptions: Though you might not be as great a fan of descriptions as i am , the details of the surroundings in the prologue seemed kinda missing.
2. "Show, don't tell" This is a rule that i have been trying to work on myself, and i think it really is necessary on the road down to a good writer. You follow it too in some places, e-g you wrote :"Schroder stared at him with wide eyes" instead of "he was surprised" or something like that. Still, i think we all need to work on it

Coming to the plot, in the prologue, i would have been left far more confused if you had never mentioned the launch codes. It would have just been "where are they?" and countless possibilities would have arisen in my head xD . Why not leave me wondering?

The rest i can't say much, as it is pretty much the start of the story

Great job there, and remember, i am just a writer myself, so pls comment on my above story too Good writing.

 

[maya <3]

Thanks for commenting!!
Here are the next couple of paragraphs (and yeah its a novella lol)

Chapter 2:
Aaron and Stevens sat on the thread-bare arm-chairs opposite Burns, full of excitement, curiosity and thousands of other emotions – and questions.
Burns looked from agent to agent, not sure how to begin - it wasn’t an easy mission after all. He cleared his throat.
‘Fortify has recently received the news that Dr. Schroder, a close friend of the Presidents has recently been shot to death, along with his family.’ He looked at his agents, waiting for a reaction. There wasn’t one so he continued.
‘Now, Schroder wasn’t just a close friend of the presidents but he was also the number one nuclear scientist in the world, with thousands of formulas for weapons – along with their launch codes. ‘
‘You two have been chosen to find out who killed Schroder and make sure that his nuclear weapons and codes do not fall in the wrong hands. So, what do you say boys? Are you in?’
Aaron looked at Stevens who was wearing a cheeky grin, he knew what that meant.
‘Yes sir,’ Aaron replied, ‘We are in.’
‘Great! Well you, Aaron, will be going undercover as a high ranking Russian soldier –‘
‘Wait,’ Aaron interrupted, ‘You said Schroder was a German, why am I going in as a Russian?’
Burns smirked, obviously enjoying the suspense he had created,
‘We believe that the Russians killed Schroder for his nuclear formulas,’ Burns glanced at Aaron and Stevens, nearly jumping with excitement. ‘So, pack your bags and brush your hair! You’re going to Russia!’
Stevens glanced at Aaron, eyes wide with curiosity,
‘Shall we do it?’ he asked, ‘there sure is a hell of a lot of risk!’
‘Well we haven’t had a mission if ages,’ Aaron protested, before Stevens could reply, Aaron agreed and accepted the tickets, pushing Stevens out of the front door.

~​

Stevens scanned their passport pictures and began making more, thinking of names as he worked. Scamming was definitely his strong side. He finished and examined his work. He turned around on his swivel-chair and threw one of the finished passports at Aaron,
‘What’s this for?’ Aaron asked, reading the info in the passport.
‘You know,’ Stevens replied; ‘Just in case,’ he didn’t need to say anymore, both agents knew how missions could sometimes turn nasty. Aaron stood up and grabbed his Russian military outfit before heading for the bathroom. Before he could enter, Stevens was already at the door.
‘Sorry mate,’ he chuckled, ‘had a few too many tacos last night.’ Aaron rolled his eyes at his mate before slumping himself back on the bed. He decided to get dressed in the bedroom and took off his shirt. He pulled a face as he pulled the military shirt over his head, it stank like hell! He straightened it up and pulled on the trousers as well, before looking at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look that convincing so decided to do a little bit of tweaking. Aaron sat down on Stevens’ swivel-chair, taking a disguise kit out from one of the drawers. He rummaged through it and found what he needed – a pair of greying eyebrows. He carefully stuck them on and smiled at himself, he sure was the disguise expert! He then sat back on the bed, waiting for Stevens to come out of the bathroom.
After what seemed like hours, Stevens opened the door. Stevens was disguised as a young officer who was escorting the Russian general.
Without saying anything, the two men grabbed their passports, tickets and suitcases, before heading out the door to the airport.

~​

Stevens beamed up at the jet that Aaron had brought him to. He hadn’t talked all through the taxi ride, but now he seemed to be blabbing none stop!
‘What make is it?’ he asked Aaron
‘I dunno, Russian?’
‘What year was it made?’
‘Ask the pilot.’
‘Where is the pilot...?’
‘Bloody hell, Stevens, shut your trap!’ Aaron didn’t mean to snap at him but he sure was getting on his nerves. He looked behind him, hearing footsteps coming their way - he was confused when he saw a woman coming in their direction, hips gently swaying.
‘Hello lads, I’m Natalie but you can call me Nat,’ she smiled, as she pulled her cap off, letting her blonde hair fall naturally to one side.
‘Do you know where the pilot is?’ Stevens asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
‘I’m the pilot!’ she chuckled as she walked past them and climbed up the stairs. She stopped halfway,
‘So you coming or d’you want to walk to Russia?’ she raised her eyebrows, waiting for them to follow her. Aaron and Stevens glanced at each other before jogging after her.
As soon as Natalie was in the cock-pit she started the plane, shouting over her shoulder for the boys to put their belts on. After only ten minutes, they were in the air and heading for Russia.