I have a really cool (even if i do say so myself 
) story that I’m currently writing and I had the idea of posting chapters on here when they are written. What do you think?
Do it.
Do it.
OK:
Rich Man Hearing Ghostly Whispers
C1: Playground Days
I suppose you’ll want to know facts. If so you’ll be disapointed. I don’t live by facts I live by stories and generalisations. I leave the Whole truth etc to the experts, the scientists.
I’ll describe myself as a teenager. I had ginger hair, a thick accent and a larger than average build. I enjoyed politics, girls- especially the friends of my younger sisters and drinking. I lived rather superficially.
On my 14th birthday I was dared by a local gang to go into a graveyard alone. I was not scared by the prospect until I heard the sound of a local man who had died recently. I ran to my house and did not hear laughter until I was in a garden. I felt like a dog: teased and tormented. I certainly felt like howling.
When I told this to my brother he casually said that I should ‘stick to my own’. I started hanging round with him and his mates. We got in trouble most of the time but they reluctantly played sports. We did this in our own backstreets, maybe not so family friendly as the local park but at least the streets felt like ours.
School was more a matter of identity than experiences. I only turned up for picture days, exams and PE lessons. My parents found this out after I was arrested for stealing magazines when I was at school. I teased it for my girlfriend but this did not stop the English policeman from muttering under his breath comments about me being a ‘puff’ and a ‘wuss’. As if I was honestly interested in reading girls magazines.
ok above is my 1st chapter. What do u guys think?
I found it decent. I rarely see such a concise introduction (which is what I assume your first paragraph is), but I can’t say that’s a bad thing.
It kept my attention and anything that can do that is pretty good. Hell, I even wrote a reply for ya.
Keep it up. I’m interested in the development and maybe even a main idea (if there is one, but I don’t mind if there isn’t).
C2: A Marraige of Convention
I married my first wife Kathleen not for love but because it was easier to marry her than not to. We went on honeymoon to France, the first people in our neighbourhood to go abroad. The honeymoon night was bliss, the coulours were bright because of our drug intake and Kathleen still had her lovely looks.
However her mind and looks deteriorated. We had 2 children, Sean and Anna but she soon tired of me and went out with Englishmen with degrees and conventional idealism. But more often than not she dated my alter-ego a certain Nick McWilliams.
Nick was a Scotsman she had met at arts college. He had a good sense of humour, traditional good looks and artistic talent. He dressed in fashionable yet casual clothes and was younger than me. They tried to avoid being noticed so they went back to his flat on every date.
Of course I had to punish the monster my wife had turned into and the smarmy blue-eyed boy lover. It wasn’t exactly hard- I just followed him around a few places. Finally I followed her into his house one Christmas night. The storm was raging bitterly outside and the cold felt like a ghostly hand on my shoulder.
It was Nick who answered it. He looked similar to the boys in the magazines I had stolen for Kathleen all those years ago. His tattoos showed this would be a rival battle and his glare told me the length of her lies. He might have been an evil, smarmy idiot but he didn’t know who her husband was.
“When she told me her marraige was bad I didn’t expect this! You are Kathy’s husband I presume, the reason you’re here?” He asked.
“Yes it is. I presume you’re her fancy man- her taste has decreased with age and madness I see.”
I wanted him to see what I went through. He got the perfect Kathleen I got the crazy and ugly Kathy. His oily smile confirmed my worst nightmare. He already knew.
“You’re welcome to her!” I shouted at him. As she came out of his room dressed in nothing but a man’s dressing gown I slammed the door. What had marraige produced for me apart from a mad wife, two screaming kids and a whole lot of pain?