I Hate My Computer

Okay, so I was trying to post this last night, but my computer decided to be a total retard and have Firefox crash every time I hit "publish post." Grr.... So I'm posting this on Internet Explorer (which is what I usually use for blogging since the crashing is a normal thing on Firefox). Here it is:

I guess I'll get around to my important stuff. So I finally got pissed going through publisher websites and it saying "...does not accept unsolicited works...." Talk about seriously annoying. So instead of sending it to a publisher straight away, I am going to try and get a literary agent. It feels weird saying that, but yes, I am going to contact agents and see if any of them are interested. Most of the agents say to submit a sample chapter, and I want to know which one I should submit. I have a few ideas, but am not sure yet. So could people please give me some feedback? Sorry if this post is going to end up being huge because most of the chapters are longer than the rest.
This is a part of a chapter from the middle of the story. Not a whole one, just a part.

Making up my mind, I slid the door open and stepped outside onto the small deck and leaned over the rail, looking onto the ground below. Even at four in the morning, cars jammed the streets and lights sparkled from buildings. It was captivating.
The Capitol. I had never been here before, and yet I felt a connection to it as I eyed the monuments that were scattered around the city. The cast of characters I watched below were stark opposites. There were the women who jogged aimlessly in the early morning, locals for whom the city’s wonder had faded. And the tourists, marveling in astonishment at the remarkable city. I watched the nightlife until the sun began to light the eastern sky. Obviously I couldn’t see the sun because of the huge buildings blocking the horizon line. Shivering, I let myself back in and began to cross the large room, hoping to get a little more sleep.
“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” I whirled in disbelief. Greene sat on the couch.
“What the hell?!” Greene’s hand disappeared into his pocket and produced a key card.
“Your friend, Thomas, left this in his chair.”
“Tom,” I spat. “Not Thomas.” Greene made a move out of the seat, and I spun, ready to run and shout and do whatever the hell else I could.
A click sounded behind me. “Don’t move.” Greene’s voice was cold. Turning slowly, I registered the black handgun aimed straight at my head.
“That’s a very pretty gun,” I said slowly. “Thank you for showing me. Now you can put away, it might be a hazard.” I wished fervently that that comment wouldn’t get me killed.
“This gun, is far to good to be put away. Far to expensive.” It sounded like he was talking about a wife or girlfriend. So first, he hits on a fourteen year old. Then he wants to shoot her. Talk about mixed signals.
“Which is why you’ll be putting it away.” Oh please, please, please think of something! What do I do?! Then I remembered the pocketknife I stole from the hotel room in Maine.
“Strip.”
“Excuse me?” What the hell?
“Now.” The gun pointed between my eyes. Suddenly his command was a good thing. Trying not to grin, I unbuckled my belt and began sliding it off. When I reached to take it out from the back loop, I grabbed the knife from my pocket and flipped it out. With a smirk, I raised the knife above my head, ready the throw it if I had to. “Drop it!” Greene commanded me.
“How about you tell me why the hell you’re going to shoot me and then I’ll consider it.”
Greene readjusted his hold on the gun and spoke. “The vice-president pays better. That’s all.” I lowered the knife to my shoulder, where I could use it more effectively if needed.
The wicked blade shone in the dim light filtering through the windows of the hotel room and glittered off the black metal of the gun. The quiet echoed loudly in my ears.
I was either crazy or really stupid. I think it’s both, Tom muttered in my head. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Don’t move!” Greene commanded me again. What, like I moved on purpose with a gun aimed at my head?

Feedback? So that was Sample 1, and now we have Sample 2.

My feet pounded heavily on the pavement and I focused on keeping pace. The men in suits started running too, but I had more reason to run then they ever would, my long legs easily propelling me faster and faster. The three men on the other side of the street ran through traffic and came up not more than five yards behind us. A few beads of sweat dripped down my face in the midday heat.
Veering sharply, I darted through traffic, narrowly dodging being hit by cars. We ran in the middle of the road, the cars speeding past us while honking and cussing us out. I dodged a Honda Civic as it screeched to a halt beside me.
Flashing lights and a siren came from behind us. Silently, I cursed whatever I had done to deserve this. I ducked and almost fell on the black pavement when a bullet rocketed past my ear, shattering the glass on the window of a car. Crap, who was shooting?! Another round pierced the trunk of a Toyota.
I finally caught sight of a door on one side of the road was labeled “Metro Personnel Only.” Jumping onto the hood of a stopped car, I slid across it and sprung off onto the sidewalk. I pulled the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. I kicked out at the door, my patience wearing thin, and it flew open with a crash.
A dimly lit staircase went down, and apparently, to the metro. I heard yells and more gunshots from outside. I reached the end of the dark staircase. Pulling a door open, I stumbled out onto the walkway by the trains. We were all breathing heavily.
“Where to?” I asked Cody, who was doubled over, trying to get air.
“No where. The trains are shut down,” he waved a hand at the spectacle before us, “they close it down when there are criminals running around.” I looked around. Sure enough, every train was stopped.
“Can’t we ever get a break?” I groaned as adrenaline pumped through my veins and we began sprinting again, shoving panicked train goers aside.
“Stop!” a man (not a cop) yelled behind us. Bullets fired in rapid succession at the ceiling caused more turmoil than he bargained for. More cops rounded the corner in front of us. Turning sharply, I sprinted up the escalator, knocking a few people over. (Sorry.)
Half of the police chased the shooter, and the other half followed us. The panicking throng of people pushed the cops aside. We raced in a circle, going to the next down escalator, and then back up the one we took before. A policeman who had been knocked out was lying on the ground, beneath the raging crowd’s feet.
I grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the side, where people weren’t stampeding. I reached into the cop’s holster and pulled out a handgun. Checking the bullets, I had enough. I brushed some hair out of the man’s face.
Who was he? He was young, early twenties probably. With a new wife, a little baby perhaps? He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve what we caused. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered to the unconscious man. Tears blurred my vision as I cocked the gun. “Let’s go.” I tried for a hard, expressionless voice, but my voice broke. No need for emotion, the cops were heading up the escalator.

Okay, and now for number 3. I’m putting this on one just to mock Brenda. (This is basically modeled after real people and real conversations.)

My seventh period class was Spanish (A.K.A. “The Twitchy Class”), which was the one class Cody wasn’t in with me. And it was the one I needed him most in.
The tables are arranged in groups, and we always have to work in our groups. I have the worst table out of all, I think.
“Hi, Kia,” the creepy guy said. He sounds like a stalker when he talks. I don’t know how, but you can totally see him being a pedophile. I twitched. I introduce my creepy stalker, Geoff.
“Kia, will you marry me?” one of the other boys said. He took my hand, but I jerked it away from him. “I love you,” he then declared. And my infatuated stalker, Brandon.
“He loves you,” the guy who sits across from me, Ned, whispered unhelpfully.
“I love you too, Kia,” the creepy stalker said.
“I love you more,” my infatuated stalker said.
“I hate your shirt,” Ned said distastefully. I ignored all of them.
“I love you so much,” Brandon said, stroking my hair softly. My hand, which was holding my pencil, tightened and the pencil snapped in half. “Oh, do you need a new pencil? I know you can’t resist me.” I twitched.
“You can’t resist his body,” Ned whispered again. I glared at him.
“Te amo, Kia,” Brandon sighed.
“Te odio,” I snapped. He tried to look hurt.
“I love you so much, you’re so hot,” he murmured. I twitched.
“So hot,” Ned whispered. My hand shot in the air.
“Senorita, may I get some water?” I asked.
“Of course.” She nodded. I stumbled out of the room and to the water fountain. I hate Spanish. After taking a moment to let myself calm down, I got a drink then turned unwillingly back towards the direction of my classroom.
“Was the water cold?” Geoff asked. “Was it good? Did it run down your smooth throat like ice? Was it amazing? I could go get you water next time.” I calculated how big the window was, compared to how big I was. Crap. I could never fit. “If you want, I could put ice in it. My hand is cold like ice. You wanna hold it? Do you like cold? I know I do. I wanna see you cold.”
Ned looked at me with a “W.T.F.” expression. I grimaced.
“Are you cold? Here, I’ll come give you a hug.” Geoff started to get out of the chair.
“Don’t touch my baby!” Brandon put his arm around me.
“I don’t think she’s your baby,” Ned pointed out, finally deciding to do (and say) something productive.
“If you don’t let go of me in the next two seconds, you will die,” I hissed.
“She’s my honey bun,” Brandon said, moving to kiss me. I shoved him out of his chair.
“Alright, we’ll wait until we’re in private,” he said, as if agreeing with something I said. He put his arm around me again when he got into his chair.
“I hope you’re not planning to reproduce.” I muttered darkly, trying to shrug off his arm.
“You and me, baby!”
“Sexual harassment!” I yelled. “He’s going to rape me! Help, help!”
“Kia,” the teacher warned.
“He’s touching me,” I wailed. Brandon quickly removed his arm. Everyone was staring at us by now.


Alright, can you just leave a comment about the best one? I’ll try to find other excerpt, but that’s all I could find in a few minutes.

~Luffs