8.30.2005

Snarkling versus the Snarkomter, #34





Heavy gray fog coated the early morning hour, thick as a cold wet blanket, dampening the already deadly mood. With rubber-gloved hands, huntress Tezra Campbell examined the latest victim, a white human male, thirty-four, a police investigator for the same crime she was now investigating. Involuntarily, she shuddered at the sight of the fourth police officer, brutally murdered and tossed aside like refuse. She shivered from the chilly air, typical of late fall in Oregon, and from the uncanny feeling someone evil watched her.

Ten police officers aiding her in the investigation, studied her every move. But it wasn't any of them who caused her skin to prickle.

Attempting to ignore the uneasiness growing in the pit of her stomach, she turned the victim's head, and considered the way the vampire had torn out the jugular. As if the bloodsucker had been rabid, angered beyond reason, the monster had ripped the man's throat open, dug his fangs all the way to the spine, breaking it, and left a shower of blood on the asphalt and nearby warehouse.

Something else seized her attention, held her hostage.

A dark huntress. The words hissed in her mind, his threatening telepathic communication forcing a chill into the marrow of her bones.

Having the rare gift of being able to read anyone's mind in the vicinity, she knew the policemen's thoughts, and none triggered her concern like whoever this was. The police already knew she was a huntress. Someone else, someone hidden from her sight --watching her like a predator waiting for the right moment to proceed with the kill --seemed to realize she was not human, not another city police investigator.

Was he vampiric? Was he the murderer? And why would he refer to her as a dark huntress?


If I had a nickel for every time I've seen a dead body and felt a shiver of evil, I'd have enough to keep my Cafe Bustelo in half and half till the cows come home.

You might have a good story here but you've got it covered up in boring description, cliche phrases, and same old same old set up.

This isn't my genre, so maybe I'm all wet, but this feels tired to me.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

how, exactly, can a loacation's mood be "deadly"?

Anonymous said...

I stopped at "heavy gray fog." Miss Snark, you are doing us all a great service in holding up this deep, dark, truthful mirror. Most of the time, I glance at the first couple of sentences in italics, then go right to your commentary. That's where the action is.

Anonymous said...

I know the genre and it's very very very wet. Cliche upon cliche.

Anonymous said...

Ooh I love vampires and huntresses. Give me more!!!