Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28060931-20160918203623/@comment-27905100-20161127233356

Okay, I'm going to dive in headfirst. If I don't finish by the time I need to, I'll post the stuff I've done here, and pick up where I left off later.

I have never, (This comma needs to be removed) in my twenty-two years with the Mountain Rescue Team, seen such a relentless blizzard, the branches it blew off trees bombarded us savagely (This part of the sentence seems out of place. Take it out or make it part of a different sentence). I made out Bill's silhouette pushing against wind. He wasn't made for this kind of work. He was more the office type. (Those two sentences are a weird tone change, but as I haven't read the entire thing, I'd bet they're important. For now, make the wording a bit edgier to fit with the tone. (e.g. change 'made' to 'cut out for'))

I should pity him for his poor financial state, and I should respect him for working his ass off to put food on the table (This part of the sentence feels unnecessary. No need to take it out, just change it a bit, maybe make it part of a different sentence), and his dedication: he begged the boss on his knees to let him take on the work in spite of his influenza. (This should be a comma) But he's an amateur when it comes to the world. He should not have married so young -- he's only twenty-two, and he should not have had a kid without a steady paycheck. (I don't know why, but 'shouldn't' seems to fit better than 'should not' here. It's a minor issue that may just be me.)

When I brought my foot down, it did not meet ground; instead, my momentum threw me forth into a spiralling tunnel. I heard Bill fall down behind me. And when I thought I'd never see the bottom, I flew through a small hole into a dark room. Snow cushioned the impact (This sentence feels unfinished. Maybe describe how the snow cushioned the impact or something?).

I struggled to my feet and massaged my temple (Jeez, he's lugging a monument around with him everywhere? No wonder this blizzard seems so bad. But seriously, this sentence feels unfinished too. Is he hurt is he cold? You don't mention the state of the protagonist here). I looked around, trying to make sense of the distorted pictures that jumped around in front of my eyes. When they melted into one image, I saw a dark cavern, littered with animal bones; Bill was doubled over on the ground (This statement feels unfinished. Is he clutching his side, throwing up, groaning, or something?). I was disturbed by the bones, but assumed that animals had been getting trapped here for centuries and the bones piled up over time. When I approached Bill, he tried to get up, but roared (For some reason here, I just imagined a little kid shouting 'grr', and making one of those 'Look mom, I'm scary' poses.) in agony and dropped to the ground. I pulled him up and slipped my left arm under his left shoulder to support him (This sentence feels unfinished as well).

On the south end of the cave, there was a vertical opening, barely wide enough for us both. When we limped out onto the other side, a strong smell of rot and decay hit us. I let go of Bill and he clasped his leg and gasped. It was damaged, but not broken (How does the protagonist know this? I'd say just take this out. If it's important, you can have the character give a medical examination right now, as it's relatively quiet.). We were in a circle, a fog hovering in the air, three stone slabs lying on the ground and an aperture in the opposite wall -- a vertical drop with stalagmites and stalactites sticking out, horizontally, like canines from the walls.

"We oughta light a fire and rest for a while, then we can think how we are gonna get out of here." I said, as I spilled out our emergency fire starter kit onto the floor. A pile of gasoline, safety matches, paper, and box of coal and twigs. With these, I lit a fire near the slabs.

"Will that be enough to last us the blizzard?" Bill said.

"If we're economical with it, yes. It's a big one but it should subside by tomorrow morning -- if it doesn't, then that won't affect us much anyway."

"Not affect us!" Bill was outraged. "What kind of fucking rescue chopper will fly in this weather. (This should be a question mark.) You don't intend to go further, do you?"

"You're not intending to huddle up beside the fire and wait for someone to jump down a hole in hopes of finding you?" I said.

"My head and leg hurt, and I'm not walking through a random cave in the fucking Ural Mountains during the height of winter."

I was about to burst out at him, but I bit my tongue and said, "Look, Bill, I know you're sick, but we're gonna have to go further. Think about it logically. You're sick and we don't have sufficient inventory to fight off the flu until the rescue gets here."

"Fuck man! I'm doing this shit to pay our bills, I'm doing this so I can spend time with my family. I didn't sign up to die."

Bill just looked at floor for a few seconds then blew his nose and lowered himself onto the ground to sleep.

I tried to contemplate our situation, but my eyes kept wandering off to Bill. The fire cast pulsating shadows on the pale wreck of a man; I did not change my mind about going further, (and) Bill needed to understand that was our only option. He wanted to stay snuggled up and wait for help. If he could not deal with the circumstances, he should have stayed home, or better yet started sweeping Tescos (Is that a taco chain or something?) for minimum wage.

I lowered myself onto the stone slab near the fire and slept.

I woke up at midnight (How does the character know this? You could make him check his watch, I guess.). The room was dark and misty, but I fancied a faint toxic-green light coming from the aperture in the wall. I stretched down and fumbled around for my shoes; my hand searching blindly in the dark, then I felt something solid. The thing suddenly twisted and seized my hand; I felt slimy fingers tighten around my wrist with crippling strength. My lungs stopped functioning, sweat squeezed through my pores, and when my eyes adjusted to darkness, I saw a poison-green hand holding my own and I unleashed a strangled scream.

I broke its grip and scrambled back frantically. I did not move a muscle for two hours.

That's it for now. Good luck with this.