The Writers' Circle

I am taking a stab at writing a Fantasy story. So this is my first one... The first chapter has come out and I'm pleased with the way it reads. I assure everyone there will be absolutely no science used in the writing of this tale. There will however, be swords, dragons, fairies, demons, goblins, princesses and magic --all the elements of a classic fantasy story. I'd love to hear what you guys think.

Chapter 1

"You're something of a dullard, aren't you ?"

Sweets was perplexed by the man's remark. He was the one holding the gun. He had the power, not this guy. So then why was he smiling?

"I said gimme the bag!"

"So you did. And I seem to recall telling you no."

Sweets hand twitched as he held the gun sideways, pointed directly at the man in the hunter green coat. It didn't matter he was big. His gun would make them equal. But still, the man before him didn't flinch or tighten his grip on the bag. He'd seen Tre do this a thousand times. Point the gun. Say the words. Get the cash and valuables. The man in the hunter green coat should have done what he told him; only he didn't.

"So what now?" He thought.

"I assure you. You aren't going to get this bag, or my valuables. It took a month for these folios to arrive, and I'm not about to hand them over to someone like you. You may as well go home."

The man in the hunter green cloak looked vaguely irritated, like he was scolding a child. Sweets didn't like that. He was gonna make it in the gang. He was gonna get respect. If he came back empty handed, Tre would never take him seriously again. He'd be on the outside again.

"Oh. I see. This is your first time. Let me explain to you how this works. You are pointing a weapon at someone who is completely unafraid of you. This should tell you right off that you've made a mistake. Only you can't admit it, or you'll lose face... I'm probably guessing that you're going to have to show proof of your success to some liege, in order to count yourself among his vassals, yes?"

"What the hell is a vassal?" Sweets didn't lower his gun, but he felt his hand begin to tremble. He had the power, but why was he afraid?

"It's not exactly fear that has your hand trembling right now. That weapon weighs perhaps two to two and a half pounds. In order to hold it like you're holding it -you have to keep your arm extended. Now that you've had to keep it extended for far longer than you're used to, your muscles are trembling. Your hand will get even shakier in a few moments. If you like, you can lower the gun until we finish our conversation. I assure you, you're still not going to get my valuables or this bag."

Sweets thought about it for half a second, taking his eyes off the man in the hunter green coat to look at his gun. His hand began to tremble more vigorously. When he turned his eyes back towards the man in the hunter green coat -he was no longer in front of him.

The man in the hunter green coat and moved to within inches of his right side in an instant. Sweets couldn't swing his right arm around to point the gun at him because he was now blocking the way. Up close, the man in the hunter green coat was huge -well over six feet. His piercing brown eyes, betrayed no hint of fear or worry. Sweets panicked -he didn't know what to do. The man in the hunter green coat placed his hand on arm just under his wrist, gripping it firmly.

"You see? The moment I gave that arm support, your hand stopped trembling. You should never put yourself at such a disadvantage if you don't really intend to shoot someone. The longer the confrontation, the greater your disadvantage becomes. See?"

The man in the hunter green coat flipped the gun out of his hand with one great shake. His grip was like iron, and Sweets knew at that moment he had truly chosen the wrong victim. In a deft move, the man in the hunter green coat caught his pistol in his right hand, clicking the magazine release. The clip clattered harmlessly against the pavement. They both looked down at it for a moment, and then turned to face each other. The man in the hunter green coat was still smiling warmly, as if he were giving tennis lessons to a first time student or something.

"Next time, hold your weapon at the ready, but don't point it out in front of you unless you intend to use it. It'll go far better for you if you do it that way."

He let go of his arm, and slid back the slide of the beretta, allowing the bullet in the chamber to eject before he slid it into his pocket. Without a further word, he turned and began to walk back in the direction he'd been walking before their confrontation, leaving Sweets to watch in stunned silence.