Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Some kind of narrative

Hey! I'm going to be posting some kind of narrative story here. I know it isn't very good but I'll improve on this as I go!

I know this has several grammar and punctuation mistakes. Don't worry though! I'll fix them later. Be nice because I don't usually write although constructive criticism is welcome. (Keep in mind I'm only 14)

Hope you guys and girls enjoy. . I'm not too good at writing :/ but I try!

Chapter 1 "Being a detective doesn't get you much money"
I have to be honest; when my brother said he was starting a detective agency, I wasnât expecting that in couple of weeks weâd be arguing on who ate the last corn flake. Nick was good older brother, but sometimes I question what he does.

âHa!â Nick triumphantly screamed, âItâs tails and I win.â
âHold on a second here,â I objected, âWe didnât decide on whether we would flip the coin over after it landed.â
âCough up the cornflake James,â Nick demanded.
I had a cornflake in my mouth and spat it out at Nickâs face.
âYouâre disgusting!â he cried.
I was about to tell him that I did exactly as he had asked, but someone knocked on the door. I may admittedly be stupid but I knew this might be the case Nick was looking for. I quickly pulled up a chair for Nick and I before the man had a chance to see us arguing over a cornflake. My chair was a little higher than Nickâs; it was to make me look older than 14 years old. I had to do a fair amount of things to make myself look older and by the end of it, I looked like a 15 year old whoâs make up was worth more than his clothes. The man walked in, he was a little chubby, 6 foot tall and he smelled like he was wearing 5 cans of deodorant. The man looked surprised, probably because he wasnât expecting a 15-year-old boy to be wearing makeup. âWho is he?â the man grumbled while pointing over to me. My brother sighed and told him âDonât worry heâs just my kid brother, he wonât be in the way of anythingâ¦â
âMore importantly, who are you?â I interrupted.
I hate to use the cliché phrase but if looks could kill Iâd have been steam rolled and cut into tiny pieces. The man smiled, âI like you kid. The nameâs Mr. Simple.â he commented. My brother made a huge sigh of relief before trying to change the subject casually, âSo what do you want from me Mr. Simple?â Mr. Simple went into deep thought for a few seconds. âFirst of all, call me Oscar,â he stated, âSecond of all open this tomorrow at 8:00pm.â He dropped an envelope in my hand.
âHow do I know thereâs not a bomb in this envelopeâ My brother questioned.
âTrust me, itâs notâ Oscar assured.
I could see he was telling the truth.
âWell Iâm not some cheap detective here that hold envelopes for you Oscarâ, my brother responded, âIf you want a bank thereâs one across the road, what makes you think you need a detective for this?â
Oscar dropped five hundred dollars on the table, âIs that enough?â he grinned, âIâll give you one hundred dollars a day plus expenses as wellâ
I could see Nick was trying to bargain with him and I knew the man wasnât going to barter so I quickly spoke up âHow do we contact you?â I asked
âGo to the fifth floor at the Altrulz hotel, Iâm number 98â Oscar revealed, âYou will found out other ways to contact me soon enoughâ as he walked out the door.
I was puzzled, what was a man with five hundred dollars staying at the Altrulz hotel? It all seemed a bit strange to me.