It was the afternoon of October 23rd 2077. The wind carried off of the waves brought a gentle breeze onto the island of Point Lookout.

Children, clinging onto they're parents hands, convinced them to ride in the amusemant rides while packs of teen's ate away at Cheese burgers and soda.
Tony McCannur, age of eight, on the other hand, was by his mothers side, in the People's Bank of Point Lookout. Fast food's and ferris wheels Never appealed to him, and he would much rather do errands with his mom, Jane.

The small eight year old looked up to his mother with a crooked smile. "Mommy...why are we here, again?"
Jane's delicate, motherly face filled with joy as she addressed her son, "I just need to grab some stuff and then we could go back to the house, Okay?" They advanced in line as Tony nodded.

A sudden silence came over the area as everyone stopped. Something wasn't right. The man behind the counter turned up the volume on the small television and on came an urgent news broadcast.
"We are warning everyone to stay indoors. It appears that the West Coast has been attacked" There was a pause as the broadcaster made sure what he was reading was correct.
"We suggest all of those wh-" The screen went black and panic rose in the small building as a Terrible rumble shook the island.

(Okay.. so.. i thought i should try out a little "book". And before i continue, i would like to hear some feedback, deciding on wether i should continue or not. Thanks!)

Continue the story. :goodjob:

Way too short for much criticism I'm afraid. The next one is going to have to be at least three times as long. From what I can tell you have very minor grammar problems, not any spelling errors from what I can tell. I can't judge the story it self as it's about three paragraphs long., I'm afraid you'll have to make some more if you want some more helpful criticism.

Sure thing. I meant it to be longer.

Just was wonderin if the idea was just about right :wink_smile:

Well, I can't really tell. By your title and small text I imagine it's about the boy in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. That seems to fit Fallout, but I can't honestly tell with this little. I'm sorry I'm just not that good.

It was the afternoon of October 23rd 2077. The wind carried off of the waves brought a gentle breeze onto the island of Point Lookout.

Children, clinging onto they're parents hands, convinced them to ride in the amusemant rides while packs of teen's ate away at Cheese burgers and soda.
Tony McCannur, age of eight, on the other hand, was by his mothers side, in the People's Bank of Point Lookout. Fast food's and ferris wheels Never appealed to him, and he would much rather do errands with his mom, Jane.

The small eight year old looked up to his mother with a crooked smile. "Mommy...why are we here, again?"
Jane's delicate, motherly face filled with joy as she addressed her son, "I just need to grab some stuff and then we could go back to the house, Okay?" They advanced in line as Tony nodded.

A sudden silence came over the area as everyone stopped. Something wasn't right. The man behind the counter turned up the volume on the small television and on came an urgent news broadcast.
"We are warning everyone to stay indoors. It appears that the West Coast has been attacked" There was a pause as the broadcaster made sure what he was reading was correct.
"We suggest all of those wh-" The screen went black and panic rose in the small building as a Terrible rumble shook the island. Even at a young age the Child could sense danger. The room was filled with screams as people ran inside, and outside of the building. Tony was clinging onto his mother as she stayed silent while waiting for what were to happen next.

The silence between them broke when a light had shaken and swung loose into his mother's Skull, killing her instantly. The child, at the sight of his mother in her current state fell Unconscious.

Several hours had passed when someone shook Tony awake. His head throbbing and his eyes swollen. He has been crying in his sleep. He had so many questions.. Why.. what happened? Where is my mother? Am i dreaming? When he finally opened his eyes, the Inside of the bank was a mess. Corpses were crushed by piles of stone, and the remaining few were in a state of shock.

A scruffy man, Joe, was tending to Tony. His voice raspy, with an accent which was hard place, and his eyebrows thick. "Jesus, Kid.. you had us down right scared! Sorry about you're mother.. Pretty little thing. So young... Anyway, we thought we would let you rest a while. We all spoke about it.. and decided that its best to just head out to Blackhall Manor. I hear tell it survived most of the impact. Those of us who wanted to see our families, already left. Now its just us seven."
Tony, being eight, only understood about half of what this man was saying, but felt he could trust him anyway. He never really comprehended what happened to his mother, and to be honest, he just stared. He knew there was nothing he could do about it but move on. He looked around the dusty room once more before following the group out of the door. His mother was gone. Probably under the rubble.

The stale air and dirt filled wind that hit they're faces on their way out stopped them mid-breath. Nothing could of prepared them for what they saw. It had been only hours since the bombs had hit, and already the leaves were falling from the trees, and houses were crumbling under they're own weight.

But that didnt matter. They had to keep moving. The group consisted of seven people. Brian, Father Pierre, Christine, Bill, Laura, Joe, and Tony of course.

It had only taken them a few steps to realize they were breathing in dangerous air. For Bill, a 17 year old who suffered from asthma was wheezing and coughing as soon as we had arrived outside. Wether it was the radiation or the dust, we just didn't know. But we knew we couldn't let him slow us down. As was the case while we approached the Manor. No one in the group knew what to do, but before long, Bill had died, and the group promised that they would return for his remains after and have a proper burial.

With only six in the group now, with Bill gone, Brian had stated firmly, "Well... it's better like this. We have less to look after." No one wanted a child on the expedition, but Joe had insisted we keep him. For morality reasons.

The Blackhall's family house's shadow loomed over us as we stood there, awaiting for someone in our group to make the first move.
"Well.. someone has to do it. I mean.. c'mon.. the worse scenario is that they're dead. And that's better for us right?" Brian said in a smug attitude. Despite being fifty, you might confuse him with a rebellious eighteen year old.

Father Pierre as you could guess, was the priest at The Ark and Dove Cathedral, and who had been silent the whole time, had finally spoke. His 60 year old lips spoke words as soft as they were firm. "Brian, i've had just about enough of you. And if you don't quit it ill throw you out to the buzzards!" Silence immediately fell over the group as Pierre stepped up to the door and knocked on it formally. Whats the point in knocking, he thought. They have no reason to answer.

(The first post was sort of like a teaser. This is the whole thing.. That what i meant O_O)

Sometimes you don't capitalize your I's and you will capitalize random words for no real apparent reason. Also I think it would be better if you wrote seventeen instead of 17, I'd only use the number when it's really big, like 123,574, 645, 723, I don't think anyone wants to read one hundred and twenty-three billion, five hundred and seventy-four million....

For the story itself, I must say that I'm surprised that the boy is holding it all together, after seeing his mother die and the world destroyed. Also the rest of the group is handling it together really well, and I'm surprised everyone wants to go to the same place, no one wants to check on their family's?

And Joe believes it against his morals to live a kid behind, but a person with asthma is fine to leave on the road? It's not a story problem, everyone has a different view of morality, just thought it was kinda of funny.

One thing that bugged me was the way you just read off the group, like you were going down the list, makes it pretty boring. I would tell a description of the people as they come up.

Other than that, I think this will be fine. Your taking it from an eight year old's perceptive will be entertaining. Well, as long you can keep thinking like an eight year old boy.

The capital thing is just a bad habit, i know i do that sometimes. Ill try to take better notice of it.
And for reading off the group. I was thinking of that, i just wasn't sure how exactly what 'approach' to use. Ill edit it immediately,
Thanks!

I LOVE the story so far! Point Lookout is such an interesting area. Please coninue

Just as they had expected, no one from the Blackhall household had answered they're desperate call for help. The only sound now was distant cries of families in peril, and the constant noise of aquatic animals as they're small bodies gave in to the irradiated air, slowly killing them.

The group of six stood silently, as Brian attempted to force open the door. Finally, when Brian gave up, Laura broke the silence with her crude looks, and whiny tone.
"Come on already! Isn't there some sort of side door we could go through?" The group exchanged a quick glance and all agreed on Joe to be the one to go first.

Joe, at age 47, looked much older. He had red hair, which was already becoming overwhelmed with gray spots, and a weather-worn appearance.
He pulled his eyebrows together questioningly, though he knew that he was fit for the job. So, discretely, he walked around the house, determined to do his best for the group of survivors he was doing all in his power to protect. A couple of days ago, he never could of imagined it would of come to this. For all he knew, they could be the only survivors in the United States. Funny, he thought, If that's true, I'm definitely not going to be the one to have to re-populate with Laura.

Apparently whoever was in there had forgotten to lock the side door, because upon entering the first thing he noticed, was a kitchen full of wealth and beauty. Even if the house had been a bit shaken by the recent attack. Though he felt the urge to search the house first, he knew his main priority was to unlock the door for his companions.

Joe had taken only two steps when he felt something hit his head and break. He stood still for a moment to register what had just happened, when he looked down and saw a chessboard, broken in half, which was apparently the 'murder weapon'. A bit confused to what had just happened, he only now saw a little girl standing beside him with a frightened gaze. He smiled in an attempt to sooth her nerves, when she turned and ran screaming. He waited a moment to gather his thought's when he heard a banging on the front door, and remembered his original plan. He made for the front door and unlocked it, letting the others in.
A bit dazed, he explained to them that there was a young girl in the house somewhere, and that he wanted to find her before they did anything else.

Everyone agreed, except for Laura, who thought they should just take what they wanted, and leave.
"We've already got one brat, we don't need another. And besides, she might be irradiated anyway. Who here really wants to get sick?"
Christine, in pure disgust, spoke up for the first time since they left. "How would you feel if we just left you here to die?"
"Pretty damn happy if i were alone here without you [censored]'s!"
Brian cut in, with a smug smile. "Ladies, ladies, can't you resolve this in a womanly manor? Might I suggest a not-so-friendly match of mud-wrestling?"

Laura smiled and winked while Christine turned in disgust to face Joe. She was young at age twenty-four, with casual blond hair, and a fresh face.
"Okay... I guess I'll look upstairs with Tony, while you and the others can look around downstairs."
No one questioned her judgment, and all went they're separate ways.

Tony and Christine walked pass the library, and took a left up the staircase. While stepping up the stairs, Christine looked to the young brunette beside her and smiled, "So, dear," She tried to distract him from everything that was going on right now. "What grade are you in now?"
Caught off guard by the question, he thought about and answered as though he wasn't sure. "Um... grade three."
Christine nodded and felt awkward for a second, when they arrived to the first room upstairs. It was the bedroom of a child.

They quickly searched each room until they arrived to the end of the hall, a large room filled with expensive furniture, and a Victorian styled bed. The master bedroom. It smelled of rosemary perfume and expensive flowers. And other than the dust and smell the bombs had left behind, it was a very well kept room.
She had to be in here.

Despite a few spelling and gramatical errors, part two was O.K.

definatly -> definitely

Your only spelling error, make sure you capitalize those random I's to. Other than that it's pretty good, I really like Joe. I think you could make it longer, but that's just me. I'm kinda of interested how this all go to fold out. I have no clue were this is going, but I'm assuming it has something to do with the boy. Well, It's enough for me to keep reading.

Yeah, I'm hoping for the next one to be more dramatic or exciting. I'm still sort of building up the story, and hopefully by the third or fourth, there will be more suspense. :wink_smile:

Definitely is the most misspelled word in the English language, I hear.

Pah, My word program told me it was right. Whatever xD Ill write it differently next time.

Christine and Tony entered the room silently, calling out for the child.

A small whimper was heard as a head poked out from under the bed. The child looked to be about the age of six, with long mahogany hair, and a stunning pink dress which was tattered and dirty towards the end. Tony had seen her before. Whether it was at school or at the park, he didn't know, but he knew she was familiar. What is her name, he thought, Anne? Yeah that's it. Anne Blackhall.

Cautiously and swiftly the little girl went to the door and closed it. Despite being only six, you could tell she was more mature by the tone in her voice.
"Thank goodness you're not one of them.."
"One of-" Tony was cut off by the girl.
"You guys have to leave." Replied Anne, using a firm tone.

Christine and Tony exchanged startled glances. Christine spoke up, attempting to calm the child.
"We can't leave you. We have a group of five downstairs. Now please tell us what's going on."
Anne was relieved to hear they had more downstairs, but terror immediately filled her being.
"I'll tell you once we get somewhere safe, we have to leave now."
Christine almost laughed. "Listen... this is the safest building in Point Lookout."
Anne gave her a cold stare. "And you don't think others might have gotten to it first?"
It hit them like a brick. They knew immediately she was right.

The trio made they're way downstairs. Christine calling out towards the others.
"Listen you guys, we have to leave now. Grab what you need and then let's go."
She counted the group and then stopped. "Wait, where's Brian?"
Joe turned away from what he was doing and smiled. "He went down to check the basemant, and I really don't know why we should lea-"

A slur of words was being yelled from the basemant and one single gunshot was heard. Silence fell over the group until Anne cut in.
"Do you believe me now! Come on, you're friend is already dead!"
The words were left hanging in the air several moments until we heard heavy footsteps from the basemant stairs.

Anne took Tony's hand and ran, hoping at least the two might get out alive. But to her surprise, the rest of the group was following her. They ran out the kitchen door and into the swamp, the intruders not far behind, cursing them in a foreign language.
Within a matter of minutes, the foreigners had them cornered. They spoke another language, Tony knew. Chinese I think...

The foreigners yelled at the group and forced them onto they're stomachs, with guns to they're heads.
The same thought went through the everyone's head, This is it... this is where it ends..

A gunshot silenced the foreigners. Everyone looked around so see who had been the victim, all knowing that they were going to be next. But to they're surprise, it had been one of the foreigners shot dead. A crimson pool formed around the man's chest as the rest of them cursed and spoke among themselves. Another shot was heard, and this time it silenced they're leader, leaving him dying on the ground from a wound to the stomach. No one knew who it had come from.

A blood curling yell was heard when a group of men jumped from the shrubs and began attacking the orientals. Some were shirtless, and were quite obviously suffering from radiation poisoning. Some more than others. And they all carried shot-guns. Within a matter of minutes, Tony`s group was sitting there in the silence, surrounded and covered in the orientals blood.

One of the men approached the group. He was muscular with a strange growth on his arm, and patches of his hair missing. The remaining hair on his head, was turning to a greenish color. His voice was pitchy and he breathed heavily.
"Well hey there folks. Those damn commies almost gotcha, eh?" Coughing he slicked his hair back and smiled. "People call me Tracker."

The group, terrified, nodded and all stood carefully. They had no idea what was happening, and Tracker had promised to tell them once they got out of the heat.
Tracker pointed to the bodies. "All of y'all should take a gun. We all need 'em." Everyone nodded in agreement and followed him, each now carrying they're own gun. as they walked in silence, hoping that they could just find a place to stay for the night.

pitchy? What does it mean?

Anyway I was not expecting that, why would there be Chinese invaders in Point Lookout? Also you may want to put spaces in between your dialogue, like so:

"Hello," he said
"Hi," I answered

Turns into

"Hello," he said.

"Hi," I answered

It makes it easier to read. Also I think things are happening pretty fast, which is okay, but maybe you'd want a chapter were the group is talking about their past or something, as it stands right now, I could care less if they all died.

Yeah, you had a great beginning to the story, but I am slowly losing interest. You should try to make your readers build an emotional attachment to the Characters in your story if you want them to keep reading.

Thanks for the tips. :wink_smile:
And ya'know, pitchy, like.. -try's to think of a way to explain it- Sort of like.. when a teen boy speaks, and his voice changes pitches a bunch. Was the best way I could explain the way Swampfolk spoke. Im open for suggestions to change it.

And for the "invaders". It was supposed to be explained in the next chapter (because i know it was a bit random xD), aswell as different character Bio's, because Tracker's place is supposed to be more secure.

EDIT: Aswell as this being my first real... ehm.. Fan fiction.
I mean, I roleplay, but for me, writing is much different. So again, all tips are very much welcome :celebration: