Mac blinked vigorously, trying to regain vision. He saw a maze of pipes and cylinders, slowly coming towards him. His arms were tied, his legs too. He looked to his left to see Sam, trying to shake loose of his ropes. Mac said “ Are you alright?”
“Sure I am. But that van disagrees. Come on, dad, we gotta get out of this crusher,” Sam answered. Mac hesitated. Dad? What a weird word! Mac thought as he shook of the haze of a blow to the head. The pipes were the undercarriage. Mac saw the pipe retracting into a hole. The tool chest still sat to the side. Mac looked at the riser and the bright red chest, turning back between the two. He bulged out his stomach. No tension came in his pockets. Zito took his knife. Mac was tied to a pipe inside at his torso. He could move his legs to a limited extent.
“Okay, I got it! As soon as a tool falls down here, untie yourself with it. I’ll help you after I cut my ropes,” Mac said without even looking at Sam. His son was looking at him with a curious stare.
“You’re gonna jam the chest under the lift and force the shelves to launch out. The chest will also slow the descent.” Mac looked over at Sam with a grin.
“Exactly,” Mac said, somewhat encouraged. He turned back and lifted his bound feet. He rested them on the lip of the edge and reached his shoes around the side of the strongbox. He slowly pulled back the chest. It rolled to the edge. Mac waited, his feet returning to the pit, as the steel rectangle touched the scarlet box. A sickening groan echoed as the chest scrunched under pressure. Mac bit his lip in suspense. Soon, it stopped. He watched as, one-by-one, the shelves fired across the hole, bouncing off the car tires. One managed to ricochet into the hole. After turning his head to avoid the shower of chilling metal tools. An Exacto knife fell on his chest. He jounced in the space, the blade slowly making its way to his side. Sam was busy utilizing a claw-foot hammer to pry off his binds. Mac finally heard the clatter of the penknife hitting the concrete floor. He turned and tried to grasp the knife, but it was out of his reach. He looked back up to see the tool chest nearly bent completely over. Suddenly Sam reached over Mac’s field of vision and retrieved the blade. He brought it around Mac’s body and carefully, but swiftly, sawed through the rope. The groaning above finally stopped, signifying no more slowing. Wires that ran up the pole sparked, also signifying some sort of malfunction. Mac nearly lost all hope as he shoved Sam clear of the pit and hefted his body onto the edge. He pulled himself up, his feet still well within the range of the now free-falling lift. He heard a gust of air and Sam’s hands met his. Sam backed up, dragging his father to safety. A screeching led up to a flinch-inducing crash. Mac sighed and looked at his son, both of them breathing heavily on the floor. Mac managed to say through his panting, “Like father, like son.”

Please comment and rate.

How are you doing these so fast and be in Mac's Loft at the same time, good job. still a 5 and sorry if the ratings aren't changing but i'm really really enjoying this story and there's a lot of detail so yeah

Could I be so bold as to suggest something? I apologize in advance and I hope I don't offend you! I know I'm not a writer and I do recognize that is hard work. I'm a reader. I've read a lot and I do understand that there are different ways to write and none is correct nor incorrect. Is just that I thought to come with these observations based in how easy/hard I find reading your story.

Suggestion:

Mac blinked vigorously, trying to regain vision. He saw a maze of pipes and cylinders, slowly coming towards him. His arms were tied, his legs too. He looked to his left to see Sam, trying to shake loose of his ropes.

Mac said: “ Are you alright?”

“Sure I am. But that van disagrees. Come on, dad, we gotta get out of this crusher,” Sam answered.

Mac hesitated.

Dad? What a weird word! Mac thought as he shook of the haze of a blow to the head.

The pipes were the undercarriage. Mac saw the pipe retracting into a hole. The tool chest still sat to the side. Mac looked at the riser and the bright red chest, turning back between the two. He bulged out his stomach. No tension came in his pockets. Zito took his knife. Mac was tied to a pipe inside at his torso. He could move his legs to a limited extent.

“Okay, I got it! As soon as a tool falls down here, untie yourself with it. I’ll help you after I cut my ropes,” Mac explained without even looking at Sam.

His son was looking at him with a curious stare.

“You’re gonna jam the chest under the lift and force the shelves to launch out. The chest will also slow the descent.”

Mac looked over at Sam with a grin.

“Exactly,” Mac agreed, somewhat encouraged.

He turned back and lifted his bound feet. He rested them on the lip of the edge and reached his shoes around the side of the strongbox. He slowly pulled back the chest. It rolled to the edge. Mac waited, his feet returning to the pit, as the steel rectangle touched the scarlet box.

A sickening groan echoed as the chest scrunched under pressure. Mac bit his lip in suspense. Soon, it stopped. He watched as, one-by-one, the shelves fired across the hole, bouncing off the car tires. One managed to ricochet into the hole. After turning his head to avoid the shower of chilling metal tools. An Exacto knife fell on his chest. He jounced in the space, the blade slowly making its way to his side. Sam was busy utilizing a claw-foot hammer to pry off his binds.

Mac finally heard the clatter of the penknife hitting the concrete floor. He turned and tried to grasp the knife, but it was out of his reach. He looked back up to see the tool chest nearly bent completely over. Suddenly Sam reached over Mac’s field of vision and retrieved the blade. He brought it around Mac’s body and carefully, but swiftly, sawed through the rope.

The groaning above finally stopped, signifying no more slowing. Wires that ran up the pole sparked, also signifying some sort of malfunction. Mac nearly lost all hope as he shoved Sam clear of the pit and hefted his body onto the edge. He pulled himself up, his feet still well within the range of the now free-falling lift. He heard a gust of air and Sam’s hands met his. Sam backed up, dragging his father to safety. A screeching led up to a flinch-inducing crash. Mac sighed and looked at his son, both of them breathing heavily on the floor.

Mac managed to say through his panting, “Like father, like son.”

~~~~~~~

I find its easier to read the speeches if they are separate from the rest of the paragraph. Also providing one space line between each parragraph helps a bunch. Since your chapters are short is easy to understand and follow, but if I was to place everything together in a word processing program I would have to "accomodate" everything like I did above.

Using italics for thoughts is just a personal preference, it really adds nothing important to the way the story is presented. Is a matter of preferences.

I usually find that paragraphs aren't longer than 3-6 lines, but I guess its a matter of preferences as well, although I have found that is easier to follow and not get lost if paragraphs aren't too long.

Again, just personal observations I made. I hope I didn't offend you and if I did I apologize in advance. It really took me a couple of hours to decide to write this comment. I'm not too brave when it comes to offering advice for I'm always afraid people might get mad at me.

Overall, I give your work a 5 for creativity and being interesting and a 4 because of how it was writen (my opinion only!)

~ghostdoll

I appreciate the suggestions. It helps me make the story more accessible to the reader.

How I write so fast is still a mystery...

Awesomeness is considered a mystery

Can't wait for the next part of this story.

I can't argue with the truth!