I'm working on a novel, or possibly a novella (big ambition I know), and I was wondering if I could get some criticism. Please go easy on me (just kidding, go apeshit).
The main plot is that airplanes begin exploding in mid-air, raining down wreckage below. No one knows why, no one knows how. Eventually other transportation devices begin to go off. Starting what could be WWIII.
“What the hell is this?” Craig said to himself, the beam of light he had been scanning around the crawlspace had landed a dead cat. The sight was repulsive. It had been a large tabby cat, with orange swirls all over its skinny little body. Still in the process of decomposition, the cat was crawling with maggots, and it looked as if its stomach had caved in. The sight reminded him of when he saw a dead rabbit in summer camp. He had been under the house a few days before to fix a plumbing issue, and he didn’t remember seeing anything like this. Because of the smell, His eyes teared up, and a few tears managed to spill over, running down and sting his cheeks. He quickly rubbed them off, slipping on a pair of gardening gloves beside him. He gagged, he swore the smell was getting worse by the second, he better make haste if he wanted to keep his lunch down.
His arm jerked towards the cat, urging him to pick it up and get it over with. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and grabbed the cat by its nape, unfortunately hearing the cat’s neck snap under the pressure. Craig began to wretch, dry heaving off to the side. Maggots were climbing on his gloves. This is really disgusting, he thought. He looked at his jeans, the knees caked in mud, and what he thought was also cat shit. Ducking his head down, he slowly walked on his knees towards outside, where all the fresh air was. Somewhere along path, he lost his balance and went face-first into the mud. He slowly raised his face out of the mud, feeling anger rise, but was overcome by humility. He wanted to find out who this cat belonged to, and stuff it up his or her ass.
Once he was out from under the house, he looked for a collar on the cat, but he couldn’t find one. Who buys a cat and doesn’t put a collar on it?
Pondering this question for a moment, the world began to shake. Craig instinctively yelled, and dived under the porch awning, bumping his head on the brickwork, sending a shock all the way down to his feet. When the apparent earthquake was over, he ran inside yelling for Laura. His head hurt something fierce; he thought he might’ve had a concussion. He found her in the kitchen on her knees surrounded by broken glass, spilled coffee, and a puddle of blood that seemed to be growing larger. In her hand was a dustpan, splattered with a few drops of blood, but generally clean. He couldn’t see where the blood was coming from.
“Laura, are you okay?” he asked.
“I think I cut my back.” she said. She turned around to show him. There was a shard of porcelain protruding out of her back. This was where the blood was coming from, he thought.
She began to tell him what happened, “I dropped my mug. I got the dustpan and broom to clean it up, but then everything started shaking.” Her voice began to crack.
“And then things started to fall on me. Now I’m bleeding everywhere and my back aches.” She was crying now. “And my shirt is ruined.”
“We have bigger things to worry about other than your clothes, like that thing in your back.”
“What’s sticking out of my back?” she said, panic evident in her voice.”
“Nothing for you to worry about.” He got up and ran to the bathroom. Laura screamed, “Where the hell are you going?”
Once he was in the bathroom, He began pulling out their contents, and then moving onto the next one. Moving on to the cabinets, he finally found what he was looking for: Stainless steel pliers. Grabbing some disinfectant soap, he ran out the bathroom. Arriving in the kitchen, he saw Laura, but what was in her hand? A white shard of porcelain was gripped in her hand, blood capping the point. He felt sick.
She grimaced, “I got it out.” Blood was pumping viciously out of her back. She lost consciousness. Craig ran to her and caught her before she hit the grounded, when the world began to shake again. The rumble sent china cascading over the shelf onto them. He threw his body over her to protect her from the plates, feeling dishes pound at his back. When it was over, he looked out the kitchen window. Smoke was filling the air, taking the beauty of the blue sky with it. Craig pulled out his cell phone and dialed nine-one-one.
“We’re sorry, but all the lines are busy. Please try again later.” He tried dialing the number again.
“We’re sorry, but all the lines are busy. Please try again later.”
“My ass they’re busy!” he yelled, and threw his BlackBerry at the wall, showering the floor with bits of plastic and glass. He had to help Laura himself, but how? The least he needed to do was stop the bleeding, but he didn’t have any of that wrap, what did they call it? Gauze, he needed gauze, but who keeps gauze in their house? He suddenly had an idea. He unbuttoned his shirt and began to furiously wrap it around her upper body, slowly the bleeding but not stopping it. Her breathing was beginning to sound rough and labored. He had to take her to the hospital. Slowly but carefully, and scooped her up in his arms, and lifted her up. She was surprisingly light, and it was easy for him to carry her. Accidentally kicking off the back screen door, he walked outside with her, taking great care to make sure that shirt tied around her bust stayed where it was. He carried her through the open gate. As he walked down his driveway, he could hear the sirens of ambulances approaching. Towards the big boom, he supposed. Laura began to fidget, then she mumbled.
“Sweetie, don’t forget to feed the birds.”
“I won’t, I won’t.” He had no idea what she was talking about, but he decided to play along for her sake.
Once at his car, he pulled on the door handle, and to his relief the door was unlocked. He set Laura gently in the passenger seat, and opened his glove compartment to get a few safety pins. He clipped the loose ends of her makeshift together, to ensure it wouldn’t fall off during the car ride. He buckled her in, and then himself. He turned the car on and instantly put it in reverse, pushing the gas all the way to the floor
They were smashed into by a car.