Freelance Artist / Graphic Designer
My published works include:
‣ "Before The Earth Explodes" by Green Couch Games
‣ "Star Smores: a Gingerdead House Expansion" by Zafty Games
‣ "Somnium: Rise of Laputa" by Zafty Games
‣ "Sojourn" by We Make Games
I also crowdfunded two of my own games: "N30N City RUMBLE" (2014) and "PK NCR: Clash of the Gems" (2016).
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Primary/PayPal Email: email@example.com
Davy Wagnarok on Facebook: www.facebook.com/davy.wagnarok
Davy Wagnarok on Twitter: twitter.com/DavyWagnarok
Asking for a favor for my friend who is currently editing his second draft for a novel called "Eidolon". It's a supernatural thriller that will feature artwork by the writer. He is seeking feedback for the prologue. It's only 1058 words, so it shouldn't take more than five minutes to read depending on your wpm. If you could, please answer the following questions in the comments section below.
1) Did this leave you wanting to read more? If not, could you explain why in a couple sentences?
2) What did you think about the writing style? Were there any areas that took you out of the moment (killed your immersion)? Anything he could do to improve his prose, dialogue, etc.?
3) Do you feel that the artwork enhances the reading experience or does it hinder your imagination from "seeing" the scenes with your own eyes?
4) If you like this and want to read more, would you be interested in joining a mailing list to stay updated on the novel's progress / release?
No need to write novels of your own. Simple one word answers are more than welcome here. Thanks in advance, guys and gals! This will truly help him out.
Heather Cole was little more than a shadow of the person she used to be. She was like a ghost, haunting the places and people that had been familiar to her in her former life.
Where exactly had she gone wrong? Things were going so well for her, for a while there. She had enrolled in community college, the first member of her family to go on to higher education after high school. She had managed to balance her coursework and her job at the gym for two whole semesters. But then, the classes started becoming more difficult, and she needed more time to finish her assignments. Then Sean dumped her. She started losing sleep. Things started spiraling out of control, and before she knew it, she was buying “study aid” drugs from some guy she barely knew. As it turns out, there’s a pretty thin line between Adderall and Speed. It did help, though, and it felt great, at least at first. But as time went on, it took more and more just to get the same rush, and now there was no denying that she was an addict.
And so, here she was, walking the streets down by the docks at three A.M., desperately trying to find Trey’s apartment because she had forgotten to write down the address. There weren’t many cars out at this hour, and not a single other person on foot that she had seen. The night air was cold, and thick with fog, and her mind felt hazy and dumb as she was coming down from her high. She was going to crash, and crash hard, if she didn’t get another fix soon.
A police cruiser rounded the corner on the street up ahead, and she immediately stepped away from the street lights and into the darkness, hoping she hadn’t already been spotted. She wasn’t doing anything illegal, but it wouldn’t be the first time a cop had accosted her for “suspicious behavior,” and she really didn’t need that shit right now. Without waiting to see if she was being followed, she headed straight down an alley next to a Weisman’s Drug Store.
It was dark, too dark to see where she was stepping. She stumbled over trash bags and a wooden pallet, fumbling blindly, her arms outstretched and groping to feel out her surroundings. There was a loud clang behind her, and she let out a yelp, falling flat on her ass as she stumbled backwards. At the entrance of the alley where she had come in, she could just barely glimpse a small shape darting away into the street—some animal that had been digging through the trash. A cat, probably, or a raccoon from the woods nearby. She breathed a sigh of relief and picked herself back up, doing her best to dust off the dirt and grime.
Then came another sound, like something scraping on concrete. It was accompanied by heavy breathing, a raspy, ragged wheezing. It was still too dark to see, but there was someone here in the alley with her.
“Stay back, creep!” She screamed, brandishing her keychain like a weapon, her thumb ready to press down on the small dispenser that was attached. “I’ve got mace!”
Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and she could start to make out a shape in the curling shadows. It almost looked like a person, but only barely. It was like a distant echo of a person, a vague, indistinct, skeletal shape with gaunt features and jagged edges. It lurched forward slowly, its movements stilted and unnatural, reaching out towards her as it gasped and sputtered with a hands like claws.
“What the hell!?” Her grip tightened on the can of mace, spraying it into what should have been the creature’s face, but it had no effect. The crooked, jagged-edged shape continued to stagger towards her with slow but deliberate measure.
Was she hallucinating? That wasn’t supposed to be one of the side effects of what she was on. Had Trey cut it with something else?
Animal instincts overtook her, and she turned to flee, but stumbled again on the refuse scattered about the alleyway, falling face-first to the ground. She barely registered the pain, scrambling to half-crawl, half sprint away, but something seized her left leg. She tried to pull away, but the grasp tightened immediately, piercing her flesh with its sharp points and crushing the leg like a dry twig. The pain was sudden and sharp, so severe that it seemed to echo through her entire body, paralyzing her with agony and terror. Her body convulsed, and she screamed, a shrill and piercing sound that cut through the night like a razor and echoed through the streets.
Time seemed to slow down. For seconds that seemed like hours, she cried in agony as her leg was mangled, searing pain shooting up her ruined limb and up through her hips, her torso, even extending out to her arms and head, every nerve ending seeming to fire off at the same excruciating instant. For a moment, she thought she would pass out from the shock, and it would have been a relief. But she remained conscious, if only barely. At some point, she was vaguely aware of the flashing blue and red lights of the police cruiser she had just tried to avoid, and the accompanying chirp of the siren.
But it was already too late.
Before anyone could come to her aid, she felt herself lift of the ground. With sudden and alarming force, she rose up into the air, flung like a ragdoll. The pain was fading now, replaced by an almost comfortable cold numbness. She saw the world spin around her for several brief moments, a blur of light streaks against the darkness of the night, before she peaked far above most of the surrounding buildings.
Then she came back down.
She didn’t even feel the impact when she landed. By the time she hit the roof, the world had already gone black, and her heart had stopped.