[ X ]
A first...
unfinished, mind you!
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Z-mann
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 15, 2007 8:18 pm    Post subject: A first... Reply with quote

This is it! I have finally put together my drabbles, consolidated them and am about to post. It's hardly finished, and I lost my original inspiration. A little creative commenting wont maim you, tho Wink

So without further delay, presenting:

THE RUN

Code:
“Run!”

And I ran. There was nothing more that could have been done. I myself am a man of few words, but if there by any means was a chance to express the exact amount and quality of feeling this uncomplicated sentence has brought up within me I would have grasped it there, on the spot. Words tend to linger around; emotions wither and die out quickly. The moment is gone. But, it doesn’t matter now, as blood slowly fills up my mind, grasping for air in sudden despair for oxygen, for fuel. I can feel it in the thumping in my chest, the tension in my muscles. My teeth screech with anxiety. Life is strong within me…

My comrades are close, but I don’t care about them. All I care about the speed. I pick up the pace yet again, stepping light-footedly over the uneasy terrain. My whole body trembles, aches and hurts. Never mind, push forward! I find myself wishing to scream like wild lost in this ecstasy. But that would slow me, emotion and weary thought. Not while I’m on the run!

Careful now, must set our urges to rest. The enemy is nearing. I can smell it, gunpowder and petrol. And smoke. Gritting my teeth, gripping my rifle. It had readily responded to my grasp, clicking in silent mechanical agreement. She knows my fingers better than any mistress, I must say. After all, she is my tool, my purpose and fulfillment. For better or worse, through thick and thin. Till death do us part.

No wonder I have no luck with women…

And all of a sudden, gunfire! A bullet ricocheted just over my head, embedding itself into the remains of a once proud and decent floral ornament, shattering it utterly. That forced me to slow down, crouch behind a short makeshift barricade made from the ruined concrete panels. I never could really see the point of such intricate masonry; after all, a man who lives on a road rarely requires sheltering of any kind. What’s the point of going in when you will be forced to come out, sooner or later? Time is a continuous phenomenon, and there is no moment but the present. Why bother marking up any given second – blink once and it’s gone. History. Only memory remains.

I’ve given myself the liberty to ponder on this, amid two bruised breaths. The intricate mechanics of existence have always baffled me. Life is quite often more complex then meets the eye. That should be noted, and remembered.

There’s a dead man right besides me, still fresh. I don’t notice him. Dead men are always common.




I'm sure I'll patch something up before you figure this one out Grin In the meantime, stay well and safe!

P.S. Keep running...

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Rattuskid
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PostPosted: Tue Oct 16, 2007 1:31 am  Reply with quote

And I ran.... I ran so far awaaaaay. And I ran, ran so far away. Gotta get away.

I don't know if you translated this from your original language or if you used the thesaurus that came with MS Word too much, but a few of the word choices, like "despair for oxygen" don't quite make sense, like they've been run through babblefish or so.

Otherwise though, it's decent. I'm not a fan of the first person combat fiction. It always seems so... forced. You're trying to describe a jarring shaky moment under fire, and in order to not make it sound too plain or gutteral, one tries throwing in tiny slice-of-life moments. I just don't think it works... Personally.

Keep writing though. At this point all you can do is improve.

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Suiseiseki
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PostPosted: Tue Oct 16, 2007 7:19 am  Reply with quote

Quote:
And I ran.... I ran so far awaaaaay. And I ran, ran so far away. Gotta get away.

Oh screw you, I wanted to be the first to do that!

I've not actually read it all so I'll withhold comment until I have.

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Z-mann
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PostPosted: Tue Oct 16, 2007 8:08 am  Reply with quote

It's so hard to me to write about a certain emotional state, especially when it's passed. I hate revealing my metaphors. True art should never have one exclusive interpretation. I read Becket a little. His work is, in my humble opinion, extraordinary.

I wasn't really aiming for the whole FPS combat situation. A man under fire never considers the impact of his actions. In fact, all of man's life is but a run, and the runners don't care about what they thread upon, because they fear to stop, to gather themselves, create something meaningful. The whole "war" with the "enemy" is but an illusion, save for the bullet that will come in the end.

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