I feel mean that I haven't posted in a while, but really, I haven't done much. I went to school (more depressing I'm-not-a-complete-person, oh-watch-all-the-people-who-are-better-than-you-walk-by and why-on-earth-are-my-friends-friends-with-me-when-they-deserve-better), did math - answer this one:
The width of the triangle is one third the length. The perimeter is 48 cm. Find the length and width.
That was one of my favorite questions... mainly because I explained it a little and the smartest guy said he didn't get it :) I love feeling smart.. although I hate to admit it's usually at another person's expense. Oh well - and if that question was too easy, try this one:
Johnathan has 7.00$ in nickles, dimes and quarters. He has twice as many dimes as nickles, and 3 times as many quarters as nickles. He has 42 coins in total. How many of each coins does he have?
That was fun too - my teacher was feeling nice, he gave us these really fun, neat, easy questions... finally.
As for writing, I'm stuck at finding a name for the band of escaped friends Vince joins up with -- any ideas? Any help is appreciated :)
But seriously. I haven't done much interesting stuff lately. I went to a party with my friends (Taken is a GOOD movie) and am going to play raquet ball Wednesday. No Empyrean for ages... I've given up hope. But hey, at least I know I have the self-confidence and stuff... maybe I should ask my teacher about it. But not now. Now, I can't even go skating, which was awesomely scarily fun.
Oh, god. My parents are kind of making me have a birthday party. Scarryyy, right? (Eh?)
S a r a h
P.S. It's SOOO awesome have a story again. I need a story to write, every second. Without something I feel... empty. (NOT good. Invincible is like.. my rock, lol).
Monday, March 30, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Death & Grad
Finally I got a little bit more of Invincible done. I've had the beginning part for a while, but the ending I wrote last night. Finally!
Even though I'm on my March Break (which is almost over) I've hardly gotten anything done! It's horrible - I had lists and lists of things to do.. but none of them were done. Time flies, but seems to be going slowly... ahh!!!
Anyways, on of the things I did do was buy a grad dress. AHH!!!!!! (And a warning, this is a bit more personal). I'm super freaked out because all the girls in my class are like, superstar model quality, and I seem so.. normal - or even below that. Sometimes I feel like I'm missing some sort of natural human instinct that would make me normal - and I'd know how to make my hair look nice and I'd know the right things and be more like the other people. But it never seems to work out the first time for me, and something is always wrong. But anyways, my main point is now that I have a dress that looks pretty okay, I'm worried that other people will find thiers and look so much better, and I'll feel left out and abnormal and somehow behind, again, as always. I mean, I just wish I could truely feel and be beautiful for one day, right? I wonder if thats ever going to happen...
But oh well, I guess some people just aren't meant for the spotlight (which I'm pretty okay with). If you want to see the dress, go here: http://i44.tinypic.com/33yp4kn.jpg (and yes, I did go crazy editing it.. but seriously, editing stuff is superdooperly fun! (And anyways, there's always the chance that some freako-stalker dude will be looking here... (although probably not, seeing as I only have 2.5 readers). But still!
Back to the normal writing stuff...
Even though I'm on my March Break (which is almost over) I've hardly gotten anything done! It's horrible - I had lists and lists of things to do.. but none of them were done. Time flies, but seems to be going slowly... ahh!!!
Anyways, on of the things I did do was buy a grad dress. AHH!!!!!! (And a warning, this is a bit more personal). I'm super freaked out because all the girls in my class are like, superstar model quality, and I seem so.. normal - or even below that. Sometimes I feel like I'm missing some sort of natural human instinct that would make me normal - and I'd know how to make my hair look nice and I'd know the right things and be more like the other people. But it never seems to work out the first time for me, and something is always wrong. But anyways, my main point is now that I have a dress that looks pretty okay, I'm worried that other people will find thiers and look so much better, and I'll feel left out and abnormal and somehow behind, again, as always. I mean, I just wish I could truely feel and be beautiful for one day, right? I wonder if thats ever going to happen...
But oh well, I guess some people just aren't meant for the spotlight (which I'm pretty okay with). If you want to see the dress, go here: http://i44.tinypic.com/33yp4kn.jpg (and yes, I did go crazy editing it.. but seriously, editing stuff is superdooperly fun! (And anyways, there's always the chance that some freako-stalker dude will be looking here... (although probably not, seeing as I only have 2.5 readers). But still!
Back to the normal writing stuff...
Invincible
“You’re not invincible, you know.” Wings said earnestly. I could hardly hear her over the rain, and frantic beat of my heart. Thunder seemed to rumble in approved. Nowadays, Wings seemed to know everything.
I was about to say something, about to contradict her, when she held up her hand and continued. Cool, moist air washed across the room. We were seated on the windowsill, staring out into the grey, foggy day.
“No one is, Jamie.” Wings whispered. I winced at the use of my other name. I still hadn’t totally recovered from meeting my parents. It was like the discovery had ripped a hole in my heart - one that had been previously covered by a stretch of fine fabric. Now, that was gone and could never come back. It was all or nothing. I couldn’t choose.
“I’m no one.” I told her. All my life, I’d believed myself to be invincible. It made me overcome problems - high self-esteem was better than low, I thought. The amazing things in life just seemed to compliment the fact; escaping the Bishop, the authorities, heartache and break… I’d been invincible to them all. Vince.
“No, your someone. Just not an invincible someone.” Wings said. I stayed silent, hoping she would realize that this conversation was over. She didn’t understand. Invincible was me, it was who I’d grown into. It was my world. My pride… it was like my clothing. Without clothes, well, you’re naked. If I wasn’t invincible, what was I?
But Wings didn’t take the hint to stop talking. “I know you used to be unbeatable, but that was when your world was of, what, a few thousand?” She asked. I gave a small nod. “Well there’s five billion people on this earth. We’re all equals, put in these lives for reasons. No one is invincible here.”
“But I want to be.” I said. “I need to be.” This was the first time I was actually speaking my thoughts, to anyone. It felt weird. Safe, but dangerous. I’d grown up learning not to trust anyone, taking myself as my only confident. But throughout all those times, I’d wanted more. Someone with a different perspective.. someone like Wings.
“It’s better if you’re not invincible, Jamie.” Her hand squeezed mine. “If you are, it means your perfect. Life is about learning, and becoming perfect moments before death. That’s why you die moments after perfection - if your perfect, there’s nothing left to learn, and nothing to do. If your invincible, there’s not point in living your life any more.” She said, slow and quiet.
I frowned, beginning to see her logic… but it was against all of mine. A car rolled on a gravel road in the distance. Fatigue was beginning set in with the lulling rain, dulling my senses. A kiss in the rain brought them alive again.
We sat there in silence for a little longer. The car from earlier seemed to be closer. Suddenly, the sound of a gun shot ran out, and a single bullet whistled through the air.
“Oh.” Wings cried, quiet over the pouring rain. It started to fall faster as she fell, my heart matching the pace of the rain.
Wings fell backwards, back into the top floor of the tower. A dark, red stain appeared over her heart, and inside my own chest I felt mine shatter.
“Wings…” I knelt beside her, horrified. A moments negligence, and now my friend was dying. Because of me. “I’m so sorry.” The words were so hard to get out, crowded between tears hardly held back.
“It’s fine. Meant to be… you’ll find a way.” She looked at me, eyes fluttering almost closed. “Vince…”
“What is it?” I brushed the hair out of her face.
“Vince, my name isn’t… Wings…” I could hardly hear her, “I’m Sylvia Browning.”
“What? Sylvia?” I whispered. I leaned closer, trying to hear her last words. But nothing more came, and her last breath brushed across my face and was carried off into the wind.
I felt like capturing the air, preserving everything and anything to do with Wings - or Sylvia, for that matter. She couldn’t be gone. I wouldn’t let her.
But she was.
* * *
Gradually, the pain seemed to fade. But never was it fully gone. I left Wings where she was, the falling leaves on the floor of her final resting place a blanket, and the old earthy wood her mattress. I couldn’t bare to bury her - if I did, there was no way to see her face again, and it was a closure that she was dead.
In my mind, she was not fully dead. I lived for the thought her coming back - how could my life go on? For almost all of it, I’d been alone, half living. I’d needed someone, anyone to talk to. Another being, someone else. Wings had taken that position, but now, the hole in my heart she’d filled had transformed into a gaping, black ugly one, twisted in spite and hatred towards her killers, and still hurting day by day.
“Yo, Vince! Get over here.” Peter called. He waved me over to some tracks. A boot mark in soft, squishy mud.
“That looks deliberate.” I said. With Wings gone, the strive to be normal had ceased and I’d fallen more into my shell of a being; the army being.
“Maybe. I was thinking a trap.”
“Or detour. They could be walking backwards.”
“True, but that always leads to some sort of mistake.” Peter countered.
“Not for the pros.”
“Guess not. How about you run along that way, and Harry and I go this one? The other guys can do a perimeter check.” Peter, as leader, decided most of everything. There was no saying no to his direct orders, but he still loved to argue over smaller facts.
“You’re not invincible, you know.” Wings said earnestly. I could hardly hear her over the rain, and frantic beat of my heart. Thunder seemed to rumble in approved. Nowadays, Wings seemed to know everything.
I was about to say something, about to contradict her, when she held up her hand and continued. Cool, moist air washed across the room. We were seated on the windowsill, staring out into the grey, foggy day.
“No one is, Jamie.” Wings whispered. I winced at the use of my other name. I still hadn’t totally recovered from meeting my parents. It was like the discovery had ripped a hole in my heart - one that had been previously covered by a stretch of fine fabric. Now, that was gone and could never come back. It was all or nothing. I couldn’t choose.
“I’m no one.” I told her. All my life, I’d believed myself to be invincible. It made me overcome problems - high self-esteem was better than low, I thought. The amazing things in life just seemed to compliment the fact; escaping the Bishop, the authorities, heartache and break… I’d been invincible to them all. Vince.
“No, your someone. Just not an invincible someone.” Wings said. I stayed silent, hoping she would realize that this conversation was over. She didn’t understand. Invincible was me, it was who I’d grown into. It was my world. My pride… it was like my clothing. Without clothes, well, you’re naked. If I wasn’t invincible, what was I?
But Wings didn’t take the hint to stop talking. “I know you used to be unbeatable, but that was when your world was of, what, a few thousand?” She asked. I gave a small nod. “Well there’s five billion people on this earth. We’re all equals, put in these lives for reasons. No one is invincible here.”
“But I want to be.” I said. “I need to be.” This was the first time I was actually speaking my thoughts, to anyone. It felt weird. Safe, but dangerous. I’d grown up learning not to trust anyone, taking myself as my only confident. But throughout all those times, I’d wanted more. Someone with a different perspective.. someone like Wings.
“It’s better if you’re not invincible, Jamie.” Her hand squeezed mine. “If you are, it means your perfect. Life is about learning, and becoming perfect moments before death. That’s why you die moments after perfection - if your perfect, there’s nothing left to learn, and nothing to do. If your invincible, there’s not point in living your life any more.” She said, slow and quiet.
I frowned, beginning to see her logic… but it was against all of mine. A car rolled on a gravel road in the distance. Fatigue was beginning set in with the lulling rain, dulling my senses. A kiss in the rain brought them alive again.
We sat there in silence for a little longer. The car from earlier seemed to be closer. Suddenly, the sound of a gun shot ran out, and a single bullet whistled through the air.
“Oh.” Wings cried, quiet over the pouring rain. It started to fall faster as she fell, my heart matching the pace of the rain.
Wings fell backwards, back into the top floor of the tower. A dark, red stain appeared over her heart, and inside my own chest I felt mine shatter.
“Wings…” I knelt beside her, horrified. A moments negligence, and now my friend was dying. Because of me. “I’m so sorry.” The words were so hard to get out, crowded between tears hardly held back.
“It’s fine. Meant to be… you’ll find a way.” She looked at me, eyes fluttering almost closed. “Vince…”
“What is it?” I brushed the hair out of her face.
“Vince, my name isn’t… Wings…” I could hardly hear her, “I’m Sylvia Browning.”
“What? Sylvia?” I whispered. I leaned closer, trying to hear her last words. But nothing more came, and her last breath brushed across my face and was carried off into the wind.
I felt like capturing the air, preserving everything and anything to do with Wings - or Sylvia, for that matter. She couldn’t be gone. I wouldn’t let her.
But she was.
* * *
Gradually, the pain seemed to fade. But never was it fully gone. I left Wings where she was, the falling leaves on the floor of her final resting place a blanket, and the old earthy wood her mattress. I couldn’t bare to bury her - if I did, there was no way to see her face again, and it was a closure that she was dead.
In my mind, she was not fully dead. I lived for the thought her coming back - how could my life go on? For almost all of it, I’d been alone, half living. I’d needed someone, anyone to talk to. Another being, someone else. Wings had taken that position, but now, the hole in my heart she’d filled had transformed into a gaping, black ugly one, twisted in spite and hatred towards her killers, and still hurting day by day.
“Yo, Vince! Get over here.” Peter called. He waved me over to some tracks. A boot mark in soft, squishy mud.
“That looks deliberate.” I said. With Wings gone, the strive to be normal had ceased and I’d fallen more into my shell of a being; the army being.
“Maybe. I was thinking a trap.”
“Or detour. They could be walking backwards.”
“True, but that always leads to some sort of mistake.” Peter countered.
“Not for the pros.”
“Guess not. How about you run along that way, and Harry and I go this one? The other guys can do a perimeter check.” Peter, as leader, decided most of everything. There was no saying no to his direct orders, but he still loved to argue over smaller facts.
Monday, March 16, 2009
More InVincible
I'm starting to get a teensie bit of writers block.. but no fear! I'm just planning it out and skipping ahead to do the scenes I want to rigght now - which is always fun :D) I even did this entire spreadsheet on excel like I did for Empyrean. (BTW, InVincible is right now 5,519 words! Yippee!)
So, do you want to here a SUPER long summary? Here you go:
Vince was kidnapped by the Bishop and has lived in the Bishop's evil, war training camp for seven years. But now, he's out and running away, just as his old hero, Kyle Pellar had inspired him to. Now, Kyle is a (live) punching bag for trainees. For one year, the Bishop allows the trainees to chase escapees... one year of being on the run. But Vince is up to it - he's inVINCEable.
But is he?
At a high school he visits, he meets a girl named Wings. Later, he meets some "escaped" old friends of his, and Wings is with them. This these friends, together they try to track down their parents. But then something unexpected happens: Wings dies.
In her final words, she says that her real name is Sylvia Browning. But before Vince has a chance to figure out who that is, his "friends" show thier true identities as trainees, and he's taken back to the Bishop. There he waits for another chance to escape, and bribes people into figureing out who Sylvia is.
It turnes out Sylvia is the daughter of the madman Harold. Harold is, simply, insane. But he's a genius. Harold has figured out how to bring people back to life, and create them into half-human, half-animal creatures. Once Vince is out of the Bishop's grasp, he sets out to find Harold, beging him to bring back his daughter (wings). He does, for a price that he'll also make her have actual Wings - which he was always going to do, but then she escaped. Vince agrees, and once Wings is back they get away from Harold and find Vince's parents.
The book ends with them finding Vinces parents, who tell him his real name is Jamie Pellar. His brother, is Kyle Pellar. Dun dun dun dunnnnn....
Sound pretty okay, right? Now, the only problem is I seem to have lost my ability to write. Words don't seem to fit together anymore :S See?
Invincible, pg 10
The store was dark and stuffy. The perfume was even stronger here, the sweet sticky scent made me gasp for air. Clothes lined the walls and crowded on tables. Bright lights illuminated the colours, making them stand apart from the dark, dim surrounding areas.
A sign at the back with a blue light on it read “Washroom” and I headed towards it. People were giving me funny looks - it would be a good idea to get clean, and then buy some new clothes.
I came out of the washroom looking more like myself. I’d tried to make myself look more relaxed, but only half succeeded. But that was better than nothing. I grabbed a few shirts and pants, not sure of the size, and headed toward the “Fitting Rooms” sign.
It took a while to find something that fit, but eventually I made it out. I wore a plain, black collared t-shirt with baggy jeans. Just outside, racks of shoes were visible in the dying light. I took a pair, amazed at the lack of security.
Now, I didn’t know what to do. The sun was going down, and the air was getting cooler. I needed somewhere to stay for the night. I followed a crowd of teenagers about my age to the ocean. There were a small stand of trees off to the side, so I headed over there, climbed one and found a nice, wide branch to sleep one. Problem solved.
Tomorrow…. I thought, tomorrow I would have to get further away from here. But I liked the city - despite the crushing crowds of people and overwhelming smells. The fast-pace of city life seemed to calm me, and I needed that.
I fell asleep a few moments after the sun went down, and awaked just a few moments after it came up. It felt great to finally be able to sleep for the entire night. A luxury, sleeping.
How awkard and icky is that? :S
So, do you want to here a SUPER long summary? Here you go:
Vince was kidnapped by the Bishop and has lived in the Bishop's evil, war training camp for seven years. But now, he's out and running away, just as his old hero, Kyle Pellar had inspired him to. Now, Kyle is a (live) punching bag for trainees. For one year, the Bishop allows the trainees to chase escapees... one year of being on the run. But Vince is up to it - he's inVINCEable.
But is he?
At a high school he visits, he meets a girl named Wings. Later, he meets some "escaped" old friends of his, and Wings is with them. This these friends, together they try to track down their parents. But then something unexpected happens: Wings dies.
In her final words, she says that her real name is Sylvia Browning. But before Vince has a chance to figure out who that is, his "friends" show thier true identities as trainees, and he's taken back to the Bishop. There he waits for another chance to escape, and bribes people into figureing out who Sylvia is.
It turnes out Sylvia is the daughter of the madman Harold. Harold is, simply, insane. But he's a genius. Harold has figured out how to bring people back to life, and create them into half-human, half-animal creatures. Once Vince is out of the Bishop's grasp, he sets out to find Harold, beging him to bring back his daughter (wings). He does, for a price that he'll also make her have actual Wings - which he was always going to do, but then she escaped. Vince agrees, and once Wings is back they get away from Harold and find Vince's parents.
The book ends with them finding Vinces parents, who tell him his real name is Jamie Pellar. His brother, is Kyle Pellar. Dun dun dun dunnnnn....
Sound pretty okay, right? Now, the only problem is I seem to have lost my ability to write. Words don't seem to fit together anymore :S See?
Invincible, pg 10
The store was dark and stuffy. The perfume was even stronger here, the sweet sticky scent made me gasp for air. Clothes lined the walls and crowded on tables. Bright lights illuminated the colours, making them stand apart from the dark, dim surrounding areas.
A sign at the back with a blue light on it read “Washroom” and I headed towards it. People were giving me funny looks - it would be a good idea to get clean, and then buy some new clothes.
I came out of the washroom looking more like myself. I’d tried to make myself look more relaxed, but only half succeeded. But that was better than nothing. I grabbed a few shirts and pants, not sure of the size, and headed toward the “Fitting Rooms” sign.
It took a while to find something that fit, but eventually I made it out. I wore a plain, black collared t-shirt with baggy jeans. Just outside, racks of shoes were visible in the dying light. I took a pair, amazed at the lack of security.
Now, I didn’t know what to do. The sun was going down, and the air was getting cooler. I needed somewhere to stay for the night. I followed a crowd of teenagers about my age to the ocean. There were a small stand of trees off to the side, so I headed over there, climbed one and found a nice, wide branch to sleep one. Problem solved.
Tomorrow…. I thought, tomorrow I would have to get further away from here. But I liked the city - despite the crushing crowds of people and overwhelming smells. The fast-pace of city life seemed to calm me, and I needed that.
I fell asleep a few moments after the sun went down, and awaked just a few moments after it came up. It felt great to finally be able to sleep for the entire night. A luxury, sleeping.
How awkard and icky is that? :S
Friday, March 6, 2009
Invincible
With my new story just over reach 4,000 words, I've finally figured out the angle I'm taking it and, most importantly, the names!
Here's the scoop: "I" or the MMC, was called 8276 by the army. His favorite word is Invincible, because he thinks he is invincible, so when asked for a name, he says Vince. Really, his parents named him Jamie, which comes out around the end of the book (and will be used to future ones). If you're curious, he looks like the picture below. (which is Alex Pettyfer)
BUT, he's not the only person in my story. He meets a girl named "Wings" or so she calls herself. I'm looking for opinions on whether she should actually have wings... not sure yet. But anyways, Wing's dies after telling him he's not invincible.. and she in her dying breath says her name is Sylvia Browning. So then, of course, Vince has to go and find out who Sylvia Browning is. She looks like this: (really it’s Alexis Bledel)
Here's the scoop: "I" or the MMC, was called 8276 by the army. His favorite word is Invincible, because he thinks he is invincible, so when asked for a name, he says Vince. Really, his parents named him Jamie, which comes out around the end of the book (and will be used to future ones). If you're curious, he looks like the picture below. (which is Alex Pettyfer)
BUT, he's not the only person in my story. He meets a girl named "Wings" or so she calls herself. I'm looking for opinions on whether she should actually have wings... not sure yet. But anyways, Wing's dies after telling him he's not invincible.. and she in her dying breath says her name is Sylvia Browning. So then, of course, Vince has to go and find out who Sylvia Browning is. She looks like this: (really it’s Alexis Bledel)
The main plot is that, well, first Vince getting out, then staying out and getting around all the attacks The Bishop launches. Then he meets up with some escaped "friends" who are really under-cover spies. Wings is somehow, in some way, with them. No one knows they're undercover until Wings and Vince are captured. Of course, though, they escape and are on the run together. Wings dies when they're resting up in a tower after they had to back out of a fight - something's wrong with Vince and he just can't fight anymore. She's saying how he's not invincible, and all this inspirational stuff... and then a single bullet is shot, and she dies. <3>
So, good? Bad?
- gotta go write! -
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Untitled
They lead me into a white room. It was smaller and more crowded than I’d imagined, but I didn’t think I’d have much problems. The doctors were weaklings, the lot of them. There was even a female in the room. She was wearing the white coat of a doctor, so I guessed she was with them. I made a mental note to get her first, guessing she’d be the easiest to hit, for the greatest chaos.
Guard 7542, as his ‘nameplate’ said, pushed my screaming, crying self (gotta keep up the act, you know?) into a white lab chair. He reached across to strap my arm in, clearly unaware of my genius plan, and I sprung into action.
I varied a little bit from my previous plan, smashing Guard 7542’s head into the table and using the cruel ‘tools’ on the table to spear the advancing guard. Then I knocked out the lady with a nice kick in the stomach. Then I worked on the guards - particularly the ones with the guns. Within a few moments, I was the last man standing.
It was what I lived for. The thrill of fighting was pretty much to only thing to live for here - what else was there in a war camp? Beauty pageants were a rarity where people were died fighting every day.
Quickly, I took the closest doctor’s coat and jogged down the adjoining hall. Windows lined the one side, so I knew where to go. Everything was simply, perfectly in plan.
Then the alarm sounded. Evidently, someone had seen me and realized I wasn’t really a doctor. I started to run - there was no need to hide my prisoner status now, they knew who I was. Suddenly, the hallway too a sharp 90-degree turn. I slid to a stop and threw my jacket into the middle of the hallway. A volley of shots attacked the thin fabric.
“Oh shit.” I muttered as the shooters’ footsteps rumbled down the hall. I glanced around, right, left, down, up. I went with up.
Like most of the work areas of the building, the Bishop had installed panel ceilings. Cheap, easily assembled, these provided a professional feel for the workers, and an excellent hiding place for prisoners. Quickly, I whipped the dust off my shoes and took a run at the wall. One foot took the impact of the hit and propelled me upwards some more - high enough that my outstretched hand was just able to punch through the ceiling and grab onto the edge. The guards rounded the corner and I quickly pulled myself up. Someone made a grab at my foot, but only managed to get a shoe.
Shots pounded through the ceiling and rocketed off the pipes and equipment. In order to make the building look taller and more imposing (most of the real imposing bits were underground) the space between the ceiling and the roof was high enough for a full-grown person to walk through. And they did.
The feet thundered along one of the paths the electricians had made; rough plywood that followed the line of the most major pipes. It was so dark I could hardly see, but the occasional misplaced ceiling tile shed what little light I needed. The path took a turn, and I was almost blinded by the light. I stumbled, blinded, and crashed into a living, breathing man.
“Whoa lad, slow-” He chuckled.
“Sorry sir,” I said. His warm, brown eyes crinkled in confusion.
“Wait, aren’t you…”
“Again, sorry sir,” I said, scolding myself for the waste in time. I smashed his head against the pipe his lantern was set on, and ran away, not even looking back to notice him slump to the floor, dead.
Am I overdoing the fighting? I'm trying to find the perfect balance here. :)
And as for the storyline, after he gets out of the Bishop's grasp, he'll send a special group of spies to get him back... the third wave including his past friends and some sort of girl (not too much romance, just enough to not leave any girl reading this in the dark). Maybe the girl/some friends will be spies in disguse (isn't that what spies do?) and pretend to be escapees too, and they can search for parents... then suddenly blow cover. :o! But anyways, that's as much as I have so far.. ideas, comments and concerns welcome! (As well as titles and character names... so far all I have is that I want a regular name, like James or Jamie. The girl might be Sylvia.. or something more regular).
P.S. I got a playlist thing to work... right now I have it as auto when you load, but if it really bugs you I'll change it :).
Guard 7542, as his ‘nameplate’ said, pushed my screaming, crying self (gotta keep up the act, you know?) into a white lab chair. He reached across to strap my arm in, clearly unaware of my genius plan, and I sprung into action.
I varied a little bit from my previous plan, smashing Guard 7542’s head into the table and using the cruel ‘tools’ on the table to spear the advancing guard. Then I knocked out the lady with a nice kick in the stomach. Then I worked on the guards - particularly the ones with the guns. Within a few moments, I was the last man standing.
It was what I lived for. The thrill of fighting was pretty much to only thing to live for here - what else was there in a war camp? Beauty pageants were a rarity where people were died fighting every day.
Quickly, I took the closest doctor’s coat and jogged down the adjoining hall. Windows lined the one side, so I knew where to go. Everything was simply, perfectly in plan.
Then the alarm sounded. Evidently, someone had seen me and realized I wasn’t really a doctor. I started to run - there was no need to hide my prisoner status now, they knew who I was. Suddenly, the hallway too a sharp 90-degree turn. I slid to a stop and threw my jacket into the middle of the hallway. A volley of shots attacked the thin fabric.
“Oh shit.” I muttered as the shooters’ footsteps rumbled down the hall. I glanced around, right, left, down, up. I went with up.
Like most of the work areas of the building, the Bishop had installed panel ceilings. Cheap, easily assembled, these provided a professional feel for the workers, and an excellent hiding place for prisoners. Quickly, I whipped the dust off my shoes and took a run at the wall. One foot took the impact of the hit and propelled me upwards some more - high enough that my outstretched hand was just able to punch through the ceiling and grab onto the edge. The guards rounded the corner and I quickly pulled myself up. Someone made a grab at my foot, but only managed to get a shoe.
Shots pounded through the ceiling and rocketed off the pipes and equipment. In order to make the building look taller and more imposing (most of the real imposing bits were underground) the space between the ceiling and the roof was high enough for a full-grown person to walk through. And they did.
The feet thundered along one of the paths the electricians had made; rough plywood that followed the line of the most major pipes. It was so dark I could hardly see, but the occasional misplaced ceiling tile shed what little light I needed. The path took a turn, and I was almost blinded by the light. I stumbled, blinded, and crashed into a living, breathing man.
“Whoa lad, slow-” He chuckled.
“Sorry sir,” I said. His warm, brown eyes crinkled in confusion.
“Wait, aren’t you…”
“Again, sorry sir,” I said, scolding myself for the waste in time. I smashed his head against the pipe his lantern was set on, and ran away, not even looking back to notice him slump to the floor, dead.
Am I overdoing the fighting? I'm trying to find the perfect balance here. :)
And as for the storyline, after he gets out of the Bishop's grasp, he'll send a special group of spies to get him back... the third wave including his past friends and some sort of girl (not too much romance, just enough to not leave any girl reading this in the dark). Maybe the girl/some friends will be spies in disguse (isn't that what spies do?) and pretend to be escapees too, and they can search for parents... then suddenly blow cover. :o! But anyways, that's as much as I have so far.. ideas, comments and concerns welcome! (As well as titles and character names... so far all I have is that I want a regular name, like James or Jamie. The girl might be Sylvia.. or something more regular).
P.S. I got a playlist thing to work... right now I have it as auto when you load, but if it really bugs you I'll change it :).
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
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
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
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