Part One Revolution
Chapter One Ghosts
Cooper tried his best to ignore the revolution that was happening outside of his tin shack. It was the latest in a long line that had begun with Chloe O’Hara in Ireland. Some of them had failed, a lot more had succeeded, as civillian populations had overturned order in their refugee camps. He laid back on his bed and closed his eyes, but sleep would not come. It didn’t help that the sheets prickled his skin or that the mattress dug into his back. The water dripping from the roof onto his face and the shouting voices and gunfire didn’t make the process any easier. Cooper sighed and sat up. He guessed he would see what all the fuss was about. He poked his head outside of his hut and saw three men exchange shots across the muddy path with two soldiers who had taken shelter in one of the shacks.
“Not thinking of joining them, are you?”
Cooper jumped, as he was addressed by a red-faced man in army fatigues. He was bald with a rough stubble.
“Me sir? No sir. Never sir. I do my duty, sir, keep my head down, sir, don’t get involved in things that don’t concern me, sir.”
“Good to know, I wouldn’t want you scarring your face again now, would I? Stay here.” The soldier ran off, as his comrades called for help.
Cooper sneered at his back. He knew that the soldier had been referring to his Glasgow smile that he had received years ago and had never read healed properly. He had tried growing a beard to cover it up, but obviously hadn’t done a very good job. Cooper weighed up his options as he surveyed his tin shack. The scarred chest of drawers, the broken bed, the splintered mirror. Cooper knew there was nothing keeping him here.
This is the first 300 words of my novel Reset, which is currently a work in progress. I have submitted this extract to Writing Magazine, which offers a line by line critique. This extract will most likely be ripped apart, in a nationwide magazine, but I’m looking forward to any feedback. Criticism is part of the gig.