This is the intro and first page of my next book. Tell me what you think. Extreme criticism is welcome.




The Tequila Diaries

Jamie Horwath

In society, you have rich and you have poor. The line often thought forgotten, which rests in-between a broken caste system, waits for the time when degrees of darkness become blurred. Good is but an illusion replaced by shades of black. What is calming to some is just one lesser degree of evil in the grand scheme of things. In this nightmare world, neither an inhabitance of poor nor rich exist. Here dwells the lawless. They hustle, steal, murder, extort, and mislead amongst other things, to put bread on the table and a roof over their heads. These dwellers, the souls of the dark live on the fringe, an area where shadows run from the night, for there is always something darker awaiting those who strive for the light. These are the beings, which make the blackest of black their home and can survive amidst a sea of cosmic violence. Imagine your inner ear. The Delicate sounds of thunder erodes the barriers of what we consider whole only begging for the destruction presented by a sharp crack of lightning. Who sets the rules here? Is it God or perhaps the Devil? Alternatively, is it someone or something in-between?

The name of the story is called 'Organ Donor'

Creek sat on the lone bench outside the DMV quietly smoking. He watched the rain descend gently around him,casting an eerie calm upon his muddled brain. He took a deep drag from the smoke and paused, allowing the carcinogens to ravage his insides. His exhale was strong and deliberate with the smoke bellowing out from his mouth in a scattered cloud. He scrutinized the raindrops as they dissected the smoke like nervous sixth graders carving up their first frog.

He hated lines and he hated waiting. The two seemed to go hand in hand, lines and hate that is. Creek had a brief realization smack him in the noggin. In his short lifetime of twenty-eight years, he had never come across another human being who liked lines. Not one single soul in his entire life could tolerate the wait. No wonder the clerks at the beginning of the line were such ****s. They had to deal with fifty other
****s before they waited on him, the fifty- first ****. So in turn, they became an **** by default. The last of the smoke finished and Creek pulled up the collar of his windbreaker and headed into the DMV. Hate and lines
awaited him…

It was a big one. By the looks of it, fifteen or so people stood in front of him. They all looked pissed off and bored. Creek mused at the thought of one of them pulling out a gun and going commando on everyone. He relished in the possible act of an impatient degenerate filling his brain full of lead. Would he live or maybe end up like one of those ****s that records everything with their cell phone and uploads the **** to the news? He opted for the former. A quick way out would be best. A bullet in the head awt to do it, that’s how he hoped things, would go down. Not today...


Specifically, I'm looking for constructive criticism on the introduction.

There is some terminology that I don't think belongs such as 'smack him in the noggin' and 'looked pissed off and bored.' It just seems like such basic phrasing to me in such a moody and elaborate scene, kinda ruins the effect for me.

Thanks for the feedback. I reworked the piece and softened up some of the phrasing. I chose words that seemed less jarring. Believe it or not that helped with the overall flow of the work.