#firsttaste

This is something I’ve been working on for a year or so and is just the first few paragraphs. I want to put my work out to get feedback, because I swear I will be published one day, just to prove my father wrong. Feedback is welcomed, corrections and critiques as well. 

Best,

Big Bear The sound of the gun going off was deafening in the endless silence of the abandoned ship. It reverberated off the steel walls, echoing for far longer than necessary, almost as if the ship were hundreds of times larger than they had been first informed. 

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the echoes of the shot ended and Sven holstered his Peacemaker in the hidden holster on the small of his back. His suit jacket fell over the concealed weapon and flowed in the artificial air of the ship’s ancient, yet somehow still functional, life-support systems. The metallic tang of spilled blood permeated the stale air now, and the taste of wet pennies hung heavy on his tongue. Twisting his neck sharply to the left, he felt the stiff joints pop, and immediately the tension in his skull lessened.

The body on the floor ahead of him stirred and groaned, one hand clutching the shoulder Sven had just perforated with his gun. Blood seeped between the thick, heavy-knuckled fingers, staining them a deep red as the large, once-feared man struggled to sit up with one useless arm, each movement causing him to hiss and grunt with the pain radiating from his newest wound. Eventually, the man gave up, and slumped to the floor, his head making a dull thump as he lay back. Biting back a yell of agony, he instead gave in to cursing Sven and his ancestry.