Gir, The Master Of, Girness
Joined: 10 Apr 2002
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|Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2006 3:51 pm Post subject: Random writing
|Well I had to write two short stories for school and I just happened to view these forums again so I thought I'd just share them.
The first was just to demonstrate something about human behaviour and the second was totaly random. And yes I know I made a few errors in the sense of perspective on the second one. But keep it mind it was written off the top of my head in 20 minutes.. Yes. Seriously.
He stubbed the cigarette out with his shoe. Crushing the flailing heat out into the cold concrete. He looked up, his friend Jones already loading the shotgun glistening in the sunlight. He raised his handgun up and double checked it was loaded contemplating what he was going to do. He slid his balaclava securely over his head. He muttered “Lets go” to Jones. His friend didn’t acknowledge him but instead simply said “I have faith in you Henry”. They broke into a run, thundering down a damp alleyway, splashing through puddles. Henry’s heart raced pounding faster and faster, dodging each pot hole as if he would fall down into oblivion itself. The end of the alley drew near, the light pouring in the closer they came. The bustle of a busy street roared in the distance. Shadowed figures moving about in the distance. They broke out into the streets with screams from all the people they pushed past. One man stood there and tried to grab a hold of Jones. But Jones was too quick, he slid the shotgun straight up and smashed into the old mans jaw with a CRACK leaving him squirming on the ground with blood trailing from his mouth. Jones simply strode over him and kept running. They raced towards the large ominous bank, with its soaring grey pillars towering over the surrounding buildings. People weaved out of their way as if they carried the plague. As they got closer to the bank they saw the security guard reach for his hand gun. Henry levelled his pistol and shot twice. A roaring BANG BANG flooded the street and silence seems to fall over the street. People screamed and ran as the security guard simply collapsed to his knees then started screaming him self. With vacant eyes Jones ripped open the banks door to see people cowering on the sides of the green carpeted room. Henry followed him in walking towards the middle teller. Henry jumped up on the counter and screamed “Bring us all the money you can fit into these bags” as he un-slung a large back pack from his shoulder. The teller stared in shock before running towards the manager who was already undoing the vault. Jones was growing impatient and had taken a small child up under his eyes stick the shotgun barrel in the child’s mouth grinning sadistically. “Anyone wants to be a hero and the kid better hope he’s going to heaven”. The frantic teller and manager were trying to fumble as much cash as they could into the backpack before the teller broke down in tears on the floor. The manager zipped up the bag just as Henry began to hear the sour siren song approaching. “Jones lets move, NOW.” He screamed at the manager and the manager brought out the bag and ran back behind the teller’s desk trying to comfort the crying teller on the floor. Henry surveyed the area before jumping of the desk with the bag. Jones was standing at the door with the kid. “Here take the kid and I’ll carry the bag”. Henry flung Jones the bag and Jones just smiled and aimed the shotgun directly at Henry. Henry’s eyes lit up with pure trepidation and confusion… “Why” Henry creed as he felt his legs go numb. Jones, still smiling sadistically scoped up the bag and turned and run through the door throwing the now smoking shotgun on the floor with a thud. “Why…. Why… “Henry wept…. Now lying in a heap on the floor he just couldn’t shake the image of Jones standing there with the money pointing the gun at him. He tried to move but pain struck him down like lightning. He moaned on the floor and felt grey go over him. He tried to scream for help but his voice was left hoarse and dry…. He curled into a ball shaking wondering Why as the blackness swept over him.
Yeah no paragraphs. Sue me.
The man lay down on the dirty ground, trying not to stir. His ears filled with relentless explosions and whirling of metal birds overhead. He lay there shaking trying to come to grips with what has happened. He rolled over onto his back, pain rushed through his back as he lay onto shrapnel cast out from a bomb minutes earlier. He sat up looking at his surroundings. His once beautiful village that he called home, was now torn apart by bombs and pounding artillery. He began to cry as he looked where his little old shop had been, which was now nothing less than grey ripped up dirt and burning wood. The man gathered up his emotions, carried by a new stronger one. Hate.
He stood straight up, wiping dirt from his face revealing empty hateful eyes. Never in his life before would he think anyone except the few small traders and merchants would come to his quite town. He thought nothing could disturb their hidden heaven of a simple life. But he was wrong, it had happened finally after 100’s of years. He walked down what was left of the compacted road. The metal birds now long gone, past burning buildings and dead friends lying on the ground. But he no longer had time to care; he demanded vengeance from those who had attacked him. He walked down the road until he saw something odd. A large metal machine was moving towards him. He dived behind a large piece of rubble scraping his legs as he barely made it behind it before the huge ominous machine rolled past. He saw men dressed in funny clothing speaking in another language on top of this machine. He sat in trepidation, not knowing what to do. He carefully moved back away as he heard its distant roar suddenly fade out.
He scrambled to his feat and decided to run for his shop to collect his rifle. The man carefully weaved in and out of destroyed buildings, hiding behind bits of burning wood and smoke. He came close to his house and could hear the hum of the metal machine. He looked around the corner of the building he saw the funny looking men with their odd arm bands and clothes talking to each other, walking around looking at each building. He heard a woman shriek as a soldier came near her; the soldier raised an object in his hand and with a bang. She was dead. The other men continued walking around and spoke something in a foreign tongue to the large metal machine and another man popped out the top and jumped to the ground. The man who was hiding behind the back of his building found a shovel on the ground with its handle broken in the middle. He scooped it up and waited for the other man to walk up to his other friends.
He broke out from behind his building carrying the shovel running at the man. The man turned and yielded in fear in something he couldn’t understand. The man swung the shovel at the other mans head and he fell to the floor screaming. He beat the man once more in the head with his shovel and the man stoped screaming and laid there. The man realising what he had done, dropped to his knees as he heard shouts in the distance from the other mans friends. He knew he had killed him, this was not him.
Yay for paragraphs. Please post what you thought of each and any areas I could improve on. If you think they sucked or I'm stupid or what ever. Post that too I'd atleast like to know that people don't think its good rather than not know at all. And yes I like the word trepidation.