A Nightmare World: Part One

January 31, 2007 by wkdjonny
Filed under: Short Stories, Novels

I am somewhere I have been many times. I don’t like coming here-I’m forced when I least expect it.
 
I know when I’m going there. Black clouds swirl around me and a smell of mustiness fills my lungs-like the time I explored my Aunt’s wardrobe.
 
Screaming surrounds me-each shriek tearing through my body, leaving convulsions and goose bumps behind. The strong smell of blood is overpowering and makes me feel nauseous. Feeling lost, I stumble around in arid darkness, helpless, fearful.
 
Suddenly I am pulled off my feet. As I lost my balance, I attempted to turn and see the culprit, my eyes only finding a familiar jacket and hairstyle. My body hits a cold, hard pavement. It is raining, and I’m screaming. My wrist is bent at a hopeless right angle-and not in a good way. My sharp jagged bone has pierced my now pale and pasty skin-a river of deep crimson blood and sweat mixing and flowing down my arm like a small river…
 
I grit my teeth…
 
Shout…
 
And faint…
 
I awoke to the smell of ‘pine fresh’ air freshener, and the usual blare on the radio. As I drive my Mini Cooper, I sense I must be heading for work-Leek is ahead then Alton Towers-not far to go!
 
I’m approaching the junction where the lights always catch you-but I have a great policy-ignore orange lights! I get the occasional horn, but I don’t care. As usual, it’s just my luck to get amber, but I don’t wait for green. Just as I scream past the lights, I see another car-seemingly a clone of mine-shoot past his light…
 
There is no time to think at 50mph…
 
Not enough time to respond…
 
I scream…
 
The cars collide with an orchestra of buckling, twisted metal, as the speed of 50 is reduced to 0 in a second.
 
I feel as though every bone in my body is being destroyed simultaneously. This time, a scream is not enough. A bloodcurdling shriek shoots from my mouth.
 
I hear a wicked bout of laughter, which makes my frame feel like a block of ice.
 
Sounds like someone’s having fun with me.
 
I’m transported again-as fast as a bullet from a gun-into a hard wooden seat. My legs are bent in a small cart, and I feel a cold metal bar against my chest. Over a crackling tannoy, I hear an all-familiar voice, with an all too familiar message.
 
*                     *                    *
 
“Ladies and Gentlemen. Keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times. Enjoy the ride.”
 
As I open my eyes, a sharp tingly-jolt in my stomach tells me the ride has started. I speed past myself operating the controls in the small shed on the platform. A mixture of hardcore cheers and I-wish-I-hadn’t-got-on-this-ride-shrieks engulf the ride train. We zoom around sharp corners on a tilt, then reach a big hill, whiz down a brightly lit tunnel, and are back at the station-lap two.
 
But something is different this time. I am no longer at the controls-where I should be of course-but seem to have disappeared somewhere. Where, I don’t know. I only catch a split-second as we hurtle through the station.
 
We are whizzing around the razor-sharp bends at the speed of an angry bull-this surely isn’t normal.
 
Suddenly everything becomes chillingly terrifying.
 
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please hold on-we have lost power and control of the ride. In…” The tannoy cuts off with an ear-splitting squeak. It looked like it had blown-smoke pouring out. But then, as if by some miracle, the smoke shot past the train-right to the front…
 
The smoke starts to swirl, until a hooded man in a tattered black shawl faded into vision. An acrid smell of death and rotting corpses shrouded the train, and suddenly we were disconnected from the other carriage, met by many screams…
 
 
Of pure terror…
 
We start tearing down the hill at breakneck speed, and through a pitch-black power-cut tunnel.
 
 
We reach the last bend before the station; rising up a sharp incline. The train started to run out of power, and ominously, was rolling back into the path of the other carriage…
 
The brakes don’t stop us. “Oh my gosh” is the worlds biggest understatement.

Read more creative works by wkdjonny

Unnamed…- chapter 15

October 5, 2006 by Timbob
Filed under: Novels

I can’t post all of this on the website, so I’ve skipped a bit to one of the larger battles…

Chapter 15- The North Road
 
     The cowled man marched past the gates of the ruined tower, giving the utter devastation around it the merest of glances. Soldiers could be replaced, doors could be rebuilt and the gurgling creatures lying in pools of their own blood could be cleared away. He strode towards a new sentry, a large demon that fingered its bow as it watched him approach.
“New orders from our master,” the man hissed, “I will need a horse saddling within the hour for my ride to Carnul,” he hesitated in thought for a moment, “And dispatch a message to our forward scouts. Give them orders to intercept some… friends of mine on the North Road.” He chuckled to himself.
“El’sare will never live to reach the city.”
 
     It was a damp, cold and miserable late autumn morning when a damp, cold and miserable Fardan El’sare emerged from the woods and made his way towards the watchtower. He swore silently and repeatedly as he thought of his comrades’ reactions to him. Isath seemed all right, but what would happen to his friendship with the other men? The friendly but ferocious Karath Heanes, the jolly twins, the dry yet good-natured Varnes? Would he lose all of those?
Even Keria?
     He was already imagining a furious mob with burning torches when the portcullis clanked up before him, revealing a fatigued Horas leaning against the stone wall. His friend looked him up and down a few times, before unexpectedly smiling in relief.
“You look like hell.”
     Fardan glanced down at himself- soaking wet, muddy and dressed only in a pair of trousers, he looked like some kind of beggar. He laughed for the first time that day, relieved at the thought that at least some of his friends didn’t mind. Looking back up at Horas, he noted the bags under his friend’s eyes and the tired way he slumped against the wall.
“You can talk! What were you doing last night?”
“Handling your little escapade,” Horas grinned and grabbed Fardan’s shoulder, “I’ll help you inside.”
     As he entered the courtyard, Fardan was shocked to see the whole of the garrison standing in front of him. There were no weapons or burning torches- just his comrades. Except… Fardan glanced around quickly. There was no sign of Keria. Stony silence hovered in the air for a moment, before Juran spoke.
“Sir, you have a very strange idea of a good night out.”
     The quiet tableau of the courtyard exploded into laughter. Fardan looked on, stunned, as Karath Heanes nodded at him amiably.
“Welcome back, sir. Had a rough night?” Fardan tapped Horas on the shoulder.
“This isn’t what I expected,” he whispered, “I was thinking more along the lines of them wanting to kill me.” Horas stared, then shrugged and spoke the words that Fardan had wanted to hear for thirteen years.
“They’re your friends. Why should they care?”
 
*  *  *  *  *
     Half an hour later, Fardan made his way down to the stables, his arms full of the items he would need to take with him to Carnul. Captain Isath had told the whole garrison that there was a chance they would not return to the tower, especially if the demons were planning a full-scale invasion. So Fardan had packed up his equipment, leaving nothing except the furniture back in his room.
     Opening the gate to one of the pens, he patted the black stallion inside with a spare hand as he dropped his equipment onto the floor beside it. The horse’s name was Myrku, a large black animal with a lighter, silvery mane, and Fardan had spent quite a lot of money acquiring him- he seemed to be an amiable creature, and Fardan had never ridden a faster stallion. Saddling him quickly, Fardan attached Moonfang’s scabbard to a strap on Myrku’s flank, and placed his crossbow beside it- it wasn’t unheard of to be attacked on the way to the city, either by bandits or demons. However, Fardan didn’t bother donning his armour, instead placing the chain shirt and carved breastplate into a saddlebag. He preferred riding without it on long journeys, and the ride would take the best part of a day to complete.
     Five minutes later, Fardan vaulted into Myrku’s saddle and urged the stallion forward, into the courtyard where the others were waiting. Isath gave him a nod, then turned his horse around and rode out of the gates. As Fardan followed him, he glanced behind him at the watchtower, knowing that he may not see his home again, and wondering why his life had suddenly been turned upside down.
 
*  *  *  *  *
     The North Road was a bit of an overstatement. Over the years, Riftwatch watchtower garrisons had taken to using a certain route north to the city of Carnul, a particular way that was both quick and easy. Eventually the many horses had beaten a track across the hills, creating what became known, by unspoken accord, as the North Road.
     Fardan rode near the head of the column of horses, keeping pace beside Isath. The captain seemed to enjoy riding, insofar as it was a more comfortable alternative to walking. On his other side was Keria. She hadn’t spoken for the whole three hours they had been riding- in fact, she hadn’t spoken at all to him since the incident the previous night. Now she sat silently on her dun mare, her head down. Fardan shifted his gaze, suddenly feeling guilty. Deep down, he knew that her depressed condition was his fault.
     Sergeant Varnes led the garrison, his hand constantly fingering the longbow strapped to his horse’s side, his one keen eye constantly scanning the bleak landscape. Fardan knew that the Sergeant was once a hunter in a village near him, and didn’t doubt that Varnes could easily spot- and shoot with ease- anything that meant them harm.
     Fardan diverted his course slightly, riding up to Isath.
“How far now?” he asked.
“At this rate, I’d say another two hours or so.” replied the captain. Fardan nodded his thanks. Once they were in the city, perhaps he would have a chance to talk to Keria. She deserved an explanation.
Yes, he thought, the sooner we get there, the better.
As if hearing his thoughts, the sky rumbled, and began to rain.
 
*  *  *  *  *
     Another hour and a half later, Fardan swore repeatedly, wishing that he had at least had the sense to wear a cloak. The rain was a pounding torrent now, and he was soaked to the skin. Cresting another hill, he put a hand to his eyes and attempted to stare through the punishing deluge. No luck- he knew that from this hill he would usually be able to see Carnul in the distance, but in this weather he had no chance.
     Fardan’s head rattled. Donning his helmet as protection from the rain had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it was proving to be a nuisance. The sheer force of the rainfall vibrated it so much that the heavy pattering was the only sound he could hear. Almost.
     As he rode to the side of the column, Fardan thought he heard something else. For a second, what seemed to be a cry from his left had broken through the monotonous sound of the rainfall. Pulling off his helmet, he brought Myrku to a halt. Captain Isath trotted up to him, followed by Varnes and Keria.
“What-” began Isath, but Fardan cut him off, raising a hand for silence and pointing to his left, where a score of dark shapes were racing across the grass and hillocks towards them, only a few hundred metres away.
Through the echo of the pattering rain came the sound of war-cries.
      “Not human,” muttered Varnes, squinting with his one eye as he attempted to calm his shuddering horse, “Demons. On horses, or… something like them. Friends of yours?”
“No… we’ve only just met.” replied Fardan. Isath swore.
“Flanking attack on the left!” he screamed, “Everyone to me!”
“Same on this side too, sir!” came Ferrick’s voice from the other side of the road, sounding panicked. The world-weary cry of one of the twins came from the rear of the column.
“They’re behind us, too.”
     As Fardan watched, some of the demons broke off from the group coming from the left, spreading out in a pincer movement.
“They’re trying to surround us!” yelled Isath, snatching up his crossbow, “Erdae, how many are there altogether?” There was a pause while Erdae took stock of the amount of demons on each side, before she spoke.
“At least fifty,” the woman groaned behind them, “We’re outnumbered almost five to one.”
“Then let’s even up those odds a bit,” the Captain grinned as he cocked the crossbow, “Open fire!”
     Varnes already had his longbow up, and a moment later a three-foot arrow flew past Fardan’s ear, smashing a dark figure off its steed as the shapes grew closer. As Fardan grabbed his crossbow and cocked it frantically, he noticed that the demons were now clearly visible, humanoid creatures in the strange bone armour, mounted upon hideous beasts that seemed like a hybrid between dog and lizard. Wondering why he had ever joined the Riftwatch, Fardan sighed and fired.
     One by one, the soldiers pulled their triggers. One by one, the demonic riders dropped, punched backwards by a crossbow bolt or nailed to their steeds by one of Varnes’ arrows. But it was not enough. Riderless, some of the demonic hybrids were still coming up the hill, following their companions that still had masters. The demons held on to the creatures with their legs, holding barbed spears or crude axes in their hands. Some attempted pot-shots with small bows, but due to both poor aim and fast riding, none of them hit their targets, instead falling short of the unarmoured Riftwatch.
     At a distance of only a hundred metres, Isath clipped his crossbow back onto his saddle.
“There’s too many of them to shoot!” he screamed, “Draw your weapons and follow me!” Urging his horse around, the Captain rode to the north edge of the hill, with the others hot on his heels. Fardan glanced down, and saw Isath’s plan. The demons had not yet finished encircling the hill- a quickly narrowing gap in their mob was visible as the groups from each side rushed to join with each other. If the soldiers rode through that, there was a chance that they could escape the ambush. Drawing his blade, Fardan kicked Myrku forwards and the horse bolted towards the gap in the demons’ line.
At that precise moment, the flanking demon riders burst onto the hilltop.
     The first demons to reach the garrison died very quickly. Erdae was on one side, and Keria was on the other. In a flash, both demons were beheaded- one by a flashing axe blade, the other by a whirling scimitar. Fardan ducked as something huge flew towards him, throwing himself to one side and instinctively lashing out with Moonfang. A deafening howl rang out, and the shape fell to the grass. Turning to look, Fardan saw one of the lizard-like creatures writhing on the floor with a gash across its throat. The rider, a thin, human-like beast with cracked grey skin, jumped to its feet and tried to bring its spear to bear- a bad idea, as it turned out. Panicked and angry, Myrku reared up, his thick hooves flailing at the creature. The spear shaft snapped under a thunderous impact, swiftly followed by the shocked demon’s neck.
“Good boy.” Fardan grunted in the horse’s ear.
     “Break off!” came Isath’s voice from ahead, “Head for the gap!” Kicking another demonic steed on its nose, Fardan rode towards the Captain, who was holding his dripping sabre with a look of annoyance on his face. The others turned their horses around and followed, closely pursued by a mob of mounted demons. The creatures the demons rode were fast- faster than even horses, it seemed. Riding at the rear of the group, Dranos and Juran were taking the brunt of the assault, almost completely surrounded by demons. They were nearly lying flat in the saddle to increase speed as they lashed out low, clipping the enemy steeds’ heads in an attempt to slow them down.
     Fardan galloped alongside a huge, riderless dog-like beast, its loping pace easily keeping up with his black stallion. Closing in, the beast leaped, clamping its jaws on Fardan’s shoulder. He cried out at the sharp pain as its teeth ripped through the meagre protection of his cloth shirt, sinking into flesh and pulling him sideways with the demon’s weight. Sheathing his sword, he drew a knife from his belt and plunged it into the creature’s unprotected eye. Black blood spurted as he twisted the blade and yanked it back out, and the corpse fell back without a sound.
     A scream from the side brought his eyes away from the swiftly closing gap ahead. Just ahead of him, on the left, Keria was struggling with a demon larger than her. The demon, a brown-skinned humanoid with a goat’s head, was standing up on its mount beside her, holding on to it with one hand and clutching the wrist of her sword arm with the other. Clubbing it with her spare hand, Keria lashed out with her foot, kicking the beast it was standing on, which recoiled. Bereft of its steed, the demon swung over and held on to Keria’s horse with its legs as it pulled a wicked, cleaver-like axe from its belt. As Fardan watched, the demon brought the axe down, splitting the skull of Keria’s horse. The dun mare collapsed in a heap, taking Keria with it.
     Fardan acted without thinking. Steering Myrku around to face the way he had come, he galloped towards Keria. Three demon riders blocked his way- he impaled one on the point of his sword, brought a knife down in an arc to slash the throat of the second and simply urged Myrku over the third, the demon’s mount standing no chance under the stallion’s angry hooves. The last of the garrison rode past him, accompanied by a yelled “Sir! Get back!” from the twins. Fardan ignored them, and the mass of demons heading his way. His eyes were fixed on the brown-skinned creature raising an axe over Keria’s head.
Fardan’s vision went red.
 
*  *  *  *  *
     Keria rolled to one side as the axe came down, swearing constantly as tears ran down her face. She was going to die. She knew it, this time. The others had gone, and Keria knew that Isath would not risk more lives to save her. As the axe buried itself in the corpse of her horse beside her, she found it odd that she could not stop thinking about Fardan. She had stubbornly ignored him all day, simply because of what he was. Keria had turned her back on the man who had saved her life.
The man she loved.
     Wrenching her foot from underneath the remains of the horse, Keria brought up her scimitar, intending to block the next crude axe blow with it. The two blades met with a grinding noise, but the demon stamped on her crushed foot and she winced in pain. The moment of weakness was all the demon needed- the axe rose again and fell with deadly speed, bouncing off a half-hearted parry from the woman and embedding itself in her good leg. The pain shot up Keria’s body like a red-hot arrow, making her scream in agony as her vision swam, almost blacking out.
     A bellow of anger boomed from nearby, echoing throughout the battleground, a howl of pure rage. Keria looked up, realising that it was not the demon above her. Whoever had made that sounded human…
Keria stared.
     Pounding towards her, like some furious beast of legend, was a lone figure on a black horse, screaming a terrifying battle cry as it flourished a long, dark blade. The demons fled before the warrior- the ones that didn’t were cut down or trampled in seconds.
     Turning to face this new threat, the creature above Keria only had time to scream as the black horse ran him down. Keria felt a hand seize her shoulder, and put up no resistance as she was dragged upwards onto the stallion. Raising her head to see her saviour, she gasped in shock.
“You?”
“Who else?” grunted Fardan El’sare.
 
*  *  *  *  *
     With difficulty, Fardan tore his eyes away from Keria’s shocked face, satisfied that she was safe.
“You’d better hold on to that,” he muttered, pointing at her scimitar without looking, “You’ll need it.”
     The gap in the demon line was gone, along with the rest of the Riftwatch. Fardan cursed as he realised that the score of remaining demons had not pursued his companions, instead going for the easier prey- him and Keria. Now they slowly closed in from all sides, aware that they would easily defeat the two humans, but cautious, not wanting to be the first to attack. Fardan drew his sword, and charged.
     The demons immediately before the charging horse fell, cut down by the flashing blades of the two riders, but there were too many to kill. In moments, the momentum of the charge had slowed as more demons stabbed at the riders and more of the foul steeds pounced.
Then, a voice rang out.
“Fire!”
     Five of the demons fell with their steeds, clutching at the crossbow bolts that had broken through their armour. Fardan, through a haze of blood and sweat, saw a gleaming blade slice a path through the creatures. They fell back before the terrifying sight of Captain Isath, yelling commands as he wielded his blood-soaked sabre with ease.
     Fardan didn’t waste time. Kicking Myrku as hard as he could, he galloped through the temporary gap, passing Isath, who sheathed his sabre and followed. The garrison were lined up on the road, clipping their crossbows back onto their belts. As Fardan and Keria reached them, they too began to ride along the road.
     A quick look back revealed that the demons had recovered and were not far behind, urging their strange mounts forward and catching up. The rain was slowing, and Fardan took full advantage of the increased visibility to stare ahead. At this speed, surely they could not be far from the city…
     The rain stopped, and something huge loomed up ahead of him. He laughed out loud and felt Keria hug him as he recognised it. It was the wall of Carnul- fifty feet of ten-metre thick solid stone at the base, with one huge oaken gate, backed by a steel portcullis. They had arrived.
     An alarmed cry rang out from above, swiftly followed by the pounding of booted feet. A hail of long arrows sailed into the ranks of the mounted demons, sending them screaming from their steeds. Three volleys of barbed shafts from the archers on the wall were all it took. As the men rode in through the massive, intimidating archway below the gatehouse, the last of their pursuers died.
Isath trotted up alongside Fardan, grinning with relief.

“Welcome to Carnul.”

Read more creative works by Timbob

I don’t know yet!

by Sam_B
Filed under: Novels

Sam 7:45am

“When a man loves a woman!
Can’t keep his mind on nothing else,
he’ll change the world…”
“samuel!”
“If somebody can see it,
she can do no wrong…”
“SAMUEL!”
“When a man loves a woman!”
“SAMUEL!!”
“What?”
“Can you please turn your music down and get dressed!”
“Yeah mum after this next track…”
“Samuel!”
“When the night has come,
and the land is dark,
And the moon,
is the only,
light we’ll see,
no I won’t be afraid,
No I… won’t be afraid,
Just as long,
as you stand,
stand by me…”

Steph 8:10am

The door bell rang downstairs but I already knew who it was, Sam.
Arses where’s that blasted homework!! Ah well its only Sir he can shove it up his deriere!
Better get goin’ or else he’ll go without me.
Picking my way across the carpet was a risky business as clothes were piled in great heaps along the floor.
“Owwee! Owwee! Owwee!”
I forgot there was a keyboard under there!
This room is a health hazard sometimes.. well maybe all the time!
DING DONG!
“I’m COMIN!”

Joseph 8:21am

Here I am soaked to the skin and still haven’t got to school. All I want is to go home and sink into my computer. I’m so glad it’s all over, for the past 4 months its been:

“Go and revise for your exam”

“Three hours today so get your ‘ead down and do it”

I mean they don’t listen to me at all its like there’s a sound proof wall between us and I’m stuck here surrounded by books and revision.
“GGGRRR!!!”
“Are you all right joe?”
“Yeah just… yeah…”
 
Sam 9:42am
 
“So what did you get Steph? Open it!”
“Nah its alright I can wait, an besides mum wouldn’t want me reading it before her”
“ok… hey Adam how about you?”
“Seven A*s man, nice. How about you?”
“Same dilemma as Steph sorry… … … ach stuff it”
 
I had been holding the brown envelope close to my chest for the past ten minutes delaying the moment of sheer joy or disappointment. It wouldn’t be too bad because both mum and dad don’t put any pressure on me, but it would be an all time low if the worst came to the worst.
 
“Here goes…”
 
Do I dare? Ok just one glance then its going back inside, out of sight, out of my mind.
 
 

—————————————- 5 YEARS LATER ——————————————————–

 

Sam 11:00am

 
Its my birthday today, I wanted to tell the whole world the good news but my family was enough. I had been waiting for this day since Christmas and it kept me awake for the last few nights going over the schedule. I would catch the bus at precisely 9:45, get off in the middle of town, book an appointment at the hairdressers and drop in the “Taste and See” café to drink a light espresso while the shop across the road opened its doors to its early customers.
As I was situated by the cafes large floor to ceiling windows I had a clear view of the building on the other side of the road. In big gold letters the shops name shouted.
 

“FERGUSONS    MOTORCYCLES”

 
A delivery van was parked outside; the engine was still running, adding to the hustle and bustle, which had already accumulated along the pavement. The driver had stepped out, cursing underneath his breath as he forgot about the oncoming traffic and had lumbered into the shop wearing a company T-shirt two sizes to small.

Thinking nothing of it I quickly paid the bill and thanked the waiter for such a refreshing beverage. Eagerly I left the café with a bound in my step becoming more and more excited as I stepped out onto the heaving pavement. Of course, I’m not a child so hopping skipping and jumping across the road was out of the question but I still felt like a small boy, entering his favourite sweet shop with money burning a hole in his pocket. The shear joy as he opens the door with a soft tinkle and gazes up at the endless amount of sweets on the shelves above him.

I had already spotted the bike I was to buy before I entered the shop but couldn’t resist putting my face to the glass window to make sure it was the right choice. Whilst standing there I had not seen the shop assistant give me odd looks from behind the counter and was quite oblivious of her attempts to get my attention until she thundered through the door and told me to:

 

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF THAT WINDOW, I CLEANED IT ONCE ALREADY!”

 

With a jump I turned around and apologised profusely whilst feeling like a total idiot, standing there telling her I wouldn’t do it again.

To save face I quickly told her that I was a willing customer and that I would be paying there and then, her mood towards me changed after that and she invited me in.

 

“So have you any bike in mind?” She asked as the door swung back behind us, shutting out the pungent smell of petrol and the intoxicating waft coming from the Kebab shop next door.

 

“Actually I was wondering if you could show me around? You know, give me a tour” She grinned showing the gaps between her teeth before herding me around the shop.

The interior of the shop was in a better shape than outside and by the looks of things it had been repainted. Positioned on the floor were bikes of different sizes and shape, all trying to catch my eye. Further back, on shelves and brackets stood many wheels, rims, nuts, bolts, spray cans saying “Gloss finish” or “Metallic shine”. Posters covered any remaining wall space and a large framed photo boldly stood above the counter capturing the moment of someone holding up a golden cup. The caption below it read;

 

“1992 Motorcross Rally Tournament”

 

with a signature next to it.

 

—————————————- 5 MINUTES LATER ——————————————————–

 

“So your sure you want this one? Cause there’s no goin back once you’ve chosen”

 

Do I go for it? I mean do I really need to have a bike… No I am having this bike as a present, no doubts now, just go for it, pay the money and let the excitement wash over you…

 

“That’ll be £11995”

 

“Can I pay by card?”

 

“Just enter in your pin”

 

Now can I remember it… 5…6…8…

Chapter two: A dog is for life not for Christmas
 

“So the formula for Sin two equals Sin times the minus one times Sin twenty divided by N two equals thirteen point two…”

 

… When is this going to end?! Where’s the clock?

 
Situated at the back of the lecture hall I could just about see the clock above the lectures head.

Everyone had their pen and papers out but by now most of us were wishing we had more paper and a spare pen.

 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

 

“Oi! Benny!”

 

“What…?”

 

“Come on Benson only 7 minutes to go at least look as if your interested”

 

—————————————- 12 MINUTES LATER ——————————————————–

 
“So what are you doin this weekend?”
“I was thinkin of goin into town, you wana hitch a ride?”
“Nah its ok Benny, I’m fittin a new work top in the kitchen, which reminds me did you do the dishes we left last night?”
 
Drat I forgot about them…
 
“I’ll do em when I get back”
 
“If your going into town could you do the shopping for next week? as we’re runnin out of bread and pasta”
 
“Cor blimey Steve you really are turning into a nag bag, yh I’ll do it but not the big shop cause I’m going on my bike.”
 
“That death trap?”
“One day you’ll regret buying that”
 
“Yeh you wish!”
 
“Jewish what?”
 
“See ya tonight Steve!”
 
“Ta-ra!”
 
We went our separate ways, our flat accommodated the four of us, me, Steve Griffiths, Stephanie Brown and Joseph Stevenson. We bought it between us all and it was on the other side of town. Through the years we had refurbished it to our liking with white paint and laminate floors. With two master Bedrooms and a spare bedroom there was a lot of sit down debates on who got which room, but in the end Steph resided in the spare bedroom so she could have her own room and privacy. She insisted on buying a padlock for her own room.
Turning the corner onto the car-park a fellow student had dropped a wad of paper onto the floor and it was being blown about by the December winds.
 
“Would you like a helping hand?”
 
“PARDON?!”
 
“I SAID!…”
 
Oh what’s the use?…
 
We eventually gathered most of the sheets and she thanked me before turning away towards her car.
 
Why didn’t I say something? I always do that! GRRR so unromantic I think I’d better get a fools guide to love.
Should I ask her for her name?
Ask her out?
No too late she’s in the car, well done, that’s your only chance lost with out a…
 
“Excuse me!”
 
I swivelled around as fast as my feet could turn.
 
“Yes?”
 
“What’s your name?”
 
“Sam! And yours?”
 
“Kate!”
 
Say something, Think! Come on! Eeerrrr….
 
“I’mgointothedancingflamingoonsaturdaywouldyouliketocome?”
 
“You what?”
 
“Meet me at the Dancing Flamingo on Saturday… please… if your not then I’ll understand.”
 
“Oh I’d love to come… ummm… see ya there then!”
 
“See ya there”
 
VROOM! VROOM!
 
mmmm… music to my ears
 
The power in the beast was overwhelming. There weren’t many bikes in the car park, so mine felt unique, almost a foreigner in some distant land. The sound from the exhaust was beautiful not the high pitched whining you get with most. But not the annoying show offs, that back fire if you let go of the accelerator and makes a loud bang to awaken the street.
The thick jet-black tyres ran smoothly over the speed bumps only exerting a slight discomfort to the driver.
A black leather saddle, smooth enough as not to cause discomfort but not smooth enough that you flew off the back instead.
As soon as the key was turned the gauges and lights turned on to create a dazzling red glow.
The bodywork, almost as if covered in blood was a bright red colour, my favourite, reflecting the light from the sun. Having been cleaned just the day before meant that it sparkled and glimmered as if it had just been painted.
Through the front gate, past the bus stop, stop at the traffic lights.
 
VROOM! VROOM!
 
Lights are on green, past the library, over take a minibus.
 
VROOM! VROOM!
 
Around the roundabout, across the dual carriageway, onto the motorway.
 
VROOM! VROOM!
 
Bugs splattered across the windscreen.
 
SPLAT! SQUELCH!
 
This was the place to use the real power of the monster, you could keep up with the sports car, over take the truckers, straddle the lanes when in traffic, sneaking past angry drivers. Fifteen minutes was all that it took to reach my destination, I turned off the main road onto a forgotten gravel path and snaked my way up the windy path. I came upon a gate that opened up to a short ledge looking out over the west coast. Seagulls called overhead and the sea smashed against the rocks. Boats bobbed up and down upon the waves, trying to catch the remote wind. Killing the engine left a vacuum of silence, only the sea and the gulls to exercise the ears.
 
If only kate was here…
The sun peeped out from behind a cloud, reflecting of the waters below. Rummaging around the inside of my rucksack I came upon a favourite book, a large tartan rug and a thermal flask still warm from the kettle.
Within five minutes I was sitting comfortably asleep with my book open upon the first page.
 

Steve 3:30pm

 

0-60mph in fifteen seconds, top speed 320…

 
Nice!

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Unnamed…- Chapter 2

June 22, 2006 by Timbob
Filed under: Novels

Hi everyone, got another instalment of the novel for you to have a look at…

Chapter 2- Just another day
 
     “It is nearly ready, master. All we now need is a sacrifice”
“Good. Find a suitable minion for your spells.”
“I… I cannot, master. For the ritual to work, one of a strong will must be sacrificed.”
“You have foreseen this person?”
“Indeed I have, master.”
“Go then. Find this strong-willed one of which you speak. The ritual must be completed.”
“Thy will be done.”
 
     Fardan sat down at one of the tables in the main hall of the watchtower and looked down at the meal on the plate in front of him. It was a standard Riftwatch ration, decoratively spread around a plate. The
meal- if you could call it that- consisted of two small slices of salted beef, an apple and a cold, solitary carrot. It may be all dressed up, Fardan thought, but it’s still the same old thing we have for every meal of the day. Every day.
     Even so, he thought, gazing down at the pitiful amount of food on his plate, the sooner I eat it, the sooner I can get out on patrol. With Keria. This last thought made him strangely happy, and he began to eat his meal quickly in anticipation. Only one thing was on his mind as he shovelled the salted beef down his throat. A certain female lieutenant in the Riftwatch.
 
*  *  *  *  *
    A few minutes later, Fardan stood before his squad in the courtyard of the watchtower. They were a motley bunch, four men of varying sizes and equipment, but Fardan knew otherwise. These men were the finest that the cities of the north had to offer. They had proven themselves worthy of the Riftwatch a dozen times over.
     There was Karath Heanes, a massive man who stood well over the height of Fardan, and Fardan was tall. Karath wasn’t just tall though, he was also immensely broad, and it was all muscle. Fardan imagined that Karath could probably push his way through a solid stone wall. Not that there’s much difference between the two, Fardan thought to himself. Sergeant Heanes was not as bright as most people, but possessed a kind of brute stubbornness that lesser men lacked, and his bravery was unmatched in battle. Karath carried a huge, single handed mace in his belt, which, Fardan guessed, powered by his enormous muscles, could probably smash a fortress gate apart. Over his back was slung a shield that was as broad as Fardan and nearly as tall- a veritable wall of black steel that was nearly impossible to penetrate. Fardan himself had seen swords and axes snap like twigs as they hit it.
    Then there were the twins, Dranos and Juran, identical in almost every way. Around the same height as Fardan, they both carried a short sword and a dirk each, as well as an impressive selection of knives between them. Fardan had seen them use their weapons before- the two brothers formed a whirlwind of flashing blades in battle, and often an unwary foe had taken a carefully thrown knife in the throat after venturing too close. When on patrol, however, they were by far the most talkative of the squad. Between them, the twins had an almost endless roster of stories to tell, humorous quips to make, or, if they were in a good mood, classic drinking songs to sing. Fardan groaned at the thought, but was still pleased to have them with him. The added protection and company of the brothers was well worth the price of having to listen to them bawl out songs about ale.
    Finally, there was Corporal Horas. Gaunt and extremely grim-looking, he was the squad’s ranged weapon specialist. Horas was a crack shot with any sort of crossbow, and had long been a valuable addition to the Riftwatch. A razor sharp, slightly curved blade hung at his side, and Fardan knew that he could use it. The Corporal was also one of the best mages in the watchtower, a true master of the spark of magical energy that lurked inside all human beings. However, there was something about him that made Fardan think that perhaps he too had something to hide from the rest of them. Perhaps it was the way that he almost never spoke, and when he did, used as few words as possible. Occasionally, Fardan would awaken at night to find Horas gazing into the glowing embers of the campfire, lost in some deep thought or memory. No emotion was ever visible on his face, except perhaps a glimmer of something like immense sadness or shame in the depths of his dark eyes. In battle, Horas fought with what seemed to be barely contained fury, and a strange ferocity unmatched by any others in the squad.
     Fardan looked them up and down a few times, then began to speak.
“All right. You know the drill. Today’s patrol route’s along the south-east path- not much to see there except trees, as usual. Get your armour and weapons ready for patrol. I want you all back here within ten minutes. Squad dismissed.”
“Yes, sir!” Karath grinned as he said it.
“Short and sweet, just how I like it.” muttered Dranos. Both brothers stifled a giggle.
Horas merely nodded.
     As the four men walked inside to retrieve their equipment, Fardan watched the squad parallel to his get dismissed by Keria. She caught his eye and grinned at him. Fardan blushed deeply for the third time that day, but managed a friendly smile. He nearly had a heart attack as she walked over to him. She stopped next to him, frowning at the clouds above.
“Looks like rain,” she grumbled, “Trust our luck to be out on a double patrol when it’s pouring down.” Fardan nodded.
“You reckon we’ll get any contact today?” he asked, referring to the frequent clashes with demons that often happened on a patrol. Usually Fardan came across raiding parties of twenty to thirty demons, but very rarely small armies came through, intent on destruction. In Fardan’s first year on a watchtower posting, three garrisons, including theirs, had to pull back to Carnul, the city nearest to the Rift and the only one in the Riftlands, as a huge invasion force of demons besieged them. Fardan was not anxious to see it happen again. Keria frowned again.
“It’s strange,” she muttered, “We haven’t had a contact for two weeks. Neither has the Captain, and from what I’ve heard, you haven’t either. I’m not sure, but I have a bad feeling about it. The little gits are probably planning something.” Fardan nodded again.
     Keria gave a weak smile and pulled out her crossbow, checking the magazine, then sat down and drew her thin scimitar, sharpening it on a rock. She inspected the edge and grimaced.
“I’m going to have to make a visit to the city on my next leave,” she held up her blade, revealing a few notches on the edge, “It’s over a year since this thing got its edge repaired. I don’t know… you’d think the enchantments would prevent damage, but no, they just make it sharper and lighter.” Fardan glanced at the sword and noticed the faintly glowing runes carved into it. Then, he made his mistake.
“I’ll go with you if you want,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Fardan swore silently. He hadn’t meant to say that. Keria looked up, her face pleasantly surprised. After a moment’s silence, she stood up and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Yes,” she whispered, and smiled, “Yes, I’d like that.”
     The conversation was quickly interrupted by clanking, voices and a loud wolf-whistle from one of the twins, signalling that Fardan’s squad had returned. Keria smiled and strode back to where her squad were waiting. Fardan turned towards his squad as the men formed a rough line in front of him. He grinned. No mockery from the twins was going to ruin his good mood now.
“Well then, lads,” he shouted in his best parade ground voice, “Not much to see today, so just keep your heads down and hope we don’t get a contact, because it’s going to be a long day! All set? Let’s get going!”
As they strode underneath the black steel portcullis and turned away onto the south-east path, Fardan was sure that Keria winked at him.

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Rein of tyranity

April 27, 2006 by Bensonator
Filed under: Novels

Sam 7:45am

“When a man loves a woman!
Can’t keep his mind on nothing else,
he’ll change the world…”
“samuel!”
“If somebody can see it,
she can do no wrong…”
“SAMUEL!”
“When a man loves a woman!”
“SAMUEL!!”
“What?”
“Can you please turn your music down and get dressed!”
“Yeah mum after this next track…”
“Samuel!”
“When the night has come,
and the land is dark,
And the moon,
is the only,
light we’ll see,
no I won’t be afraid,
No I… won’t be afraid,
Just as long,
as you stand,
stand by me…”

Steph 8:10am

The door bell rang downstairs but I already knew who it was, it was Sam.
Arses wheres that blasted homework!! Ah well its only Sir he can shove it up his deriere!
Better get goin’ or else he’ll go with out me.
Picking my way across the carpet was a risky business as clothes were piled in great heaps along the floor.
“Owwee! Owwee! Owwee!”
I forgot there was a keyboard under there!
This room is a health hazard sometimes.. well maybe all the time!
DING DONG!
“I’m COMIN!”

Joseph 8:21am

Here I am soaked to the skin and still haven’t got to school. All I want is to go home and sink into my computer

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