New Story... In History!

In school we had a project to make a "memory box" for some important founder of Canada. I did George Brown (BORINGEST dude out there). But that's not the point. The point is, that after I went, I got this sudden idea that just walked right into my mind. So, I got out a pen and paper and while listening to the amazing things John A. Mcdonald and George Etienne Cartier would put in their memory boxes, I wrote this:

Untitled (MAYBE: Wings)

When the bomb exploded, I was ready. Of course I was ready - I was always ready. After seven years of training for the Bishop; crawling through his tunnels, sneaking across his landmines and jumping over any obstacle he threw, any moment of any day, I was really for anything, at any moment of my life. To any other person these tasks were as easy as completing a school project, and my movements were as natural to me as breathing.

After the tremor of the explosion, my mind snapped into action. Unnatural as my instincts were, they saved my life repeatedly, on many occasions. Even the short, three years of textbook training I’d been put through in my first two years of working for the Bishop helped me now. I knew the physics, and as the wave hit me, I jumped in the air, allowing the force to propel me backwards. I landed on the ground, five years of life-and-death situations taking their toll on my actions. Within moments, I was up and if I’d wanted to, running. But I wanted this training session over with, and fast. Now was the best time to stand my ground and save the extra skirmishes to come.

It rained men, falling down strapped to their little black lines, wearing equally black, padded suits. I put on a show, roundhouse kicking the first one I got to in the chest. He wouldn’t be down for long. I knew that in order to please the man watching - because I knew, for sure, there had to be one - I needed to hit each guy at least 3 times, and knock all of them out unconscious. Then, and only then, would he decide to let me pass quietly through the rest of the maze, and not order the excess of men at hand to come get me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I realized there must be someone behind me, just waiting to strike. I turned and grabbed them by the neck, my eyes meeting his for just one small moment. That was the first thing they taught you not to do, back in day one. Never look the opponent in the eyes. The compassion, which was brought on by a look into the eyes, could and most likely would lead to your downfall. But I was better than that. I squeezed, trying to forget the familiar face as I realized I’d one known him. I’d have time to think about that later, after, if I was still alive.

No, I wasn’t worried about dying here, this was a daily exercise. It kept me running, and everyone else the Bishop had ‘hired’. Kidnapped, more likely, but some people actually sold their children to the Bishop for money. It was because of that I never wondered about my parents. I didn’t want to, because if I did, I would look for them. I could imagine them perfectly, on the street, hopeless. I didn’t like thinking of anyone related to me like that. I was different. I was invincible.

Hmmm.... wanna hear my overall idea?
Well, this guy (currently unnamed, feel free to comment/suggest a name for him) is this super-skilled fighting dude. He's been training since he was six, and now, he's about to get out. That's the simple, one-line idea. There'll also be a bit of what guys like (SO, if your a guy, TELL ME! - I'm not, in case you're wondering, so I have no idea what guys would like)... and mainly, it's a guy book. I might add some girly bits, or maybe I'll write a romance book on the side so it doesn't kill me to write a standard, kiss-less guy book. But hey, this is a learning experience. And, it's the furthest I've got yet since Empyrean (about 1000 words, have to switch over from paper though, so not sure). Wish me luck!

Sarah