Short Story thread

Discussion in 'Other Media' started by Legend Saber, Jan 13, 2011.

  1. Archangel Sabre Well-Known Member

    Write any story you want, rough draft, as long or as short as you want.

    If you're looking for ideas, go here: Short Story Ideas - Scenarios

    Here's what I got:
    A caravan is the location, money is the root of all evil is the theme. A necklace is an object that plays a part in the story.

    I'm writing this all as I go along.

    =====

    The two of them could hear sirens going off in the distance. Now the deed was done, but the two were clearly conflicted on what they could do from here. One was having second thoughts,
    "We should ditch it, right here."
    "Too late for that now, Jack."

    Waiting in a cheap caravan, a so called hide-out. A marvelous necklace lying on a table below in an otherwise nondescript excuse of a shelter. Jack was a genius, but also a coward. Of course he made and detailed meticulously the plan to steal the necklace. But now that the deed was done, the easy part, Jack realized the error of his ways and wanted nothing more than to run and never turn back.

    His partner, the muscle. Vito. It was a mistake to do this with him. Callous, cold, indifferent. It was all about the dollar signs. And not getting caught, of course. Vito pulled a revolver from his pocket and began to wave it around haphazardly,
    "You make a run for it now, Jack, you won't make it as far as the door before you're dead. And don't think I won't. We've done too much to turn back now."

    That was a mistake on his part. Jack's mind began to calculate, with fear and anger turning into greed coursing through his veins. The necklace was valuable. Half a million, easy. But having to share half with this buffoon? What a waste. He laid his hands out on the table and scanned the room for any distractions, remembering the firearm he had in his pocket as well.

    And as quick as the thought came to him he rammed the table into Vito's chest, before pulling out his gun and, in an instant, volleys of lead were shooting across the room. Seconds later, silence.

    Sirens would soon close in on the location, but the punishment for these sinners was already done. There would be nothing to greet the police except two bodies, and a lonely necklace lying on the floor, covered in blood.
    Tentei No Mai likes this.
  2. Codfish Sacrifice Theory

    I started this recently on my tumblr. It's going okay so far.
    I walked down the lonely street, glowing orange from the slightly imperfect line of streetlights illuminating my path. I was alone, but there was nothing unusual about that, I was often alone, and still am, truth be told. That is what I’m attempting to do after all, tell the truth. It’s funny, isn’t it, how some truths are more truthful than others? But back to the point.
    I didn’t know where I was, or really even who I was. It wasn’t because I had amnesia. The lack of knowledge of where I was stemmed from the fact that I had been walking for close to a week, wandering right out of my tiny town in a direction picked at random, and often I found myself walking through strangers’ yards, and fields of unknown farmers. As for the lack of knowledge of who I was… I just didn’t feel I knew. My days had become routine, and mind numbing, and I didn’t want to live that way anymore. I wanted to be me, but I had to learn how to do that, because I had spent so many years changing who I was to fit who I thought people wanted me to be, and as a result I lost the real me somewhere in the ether. I wanted to get me back, and this required me to leave, and journey outward. Though I was only fifteen at the time, I knew I would make it. I knew I had to make it, there was no other choice, because I fully intended to return one day and show everyone just exactly who I was, who they had sacrificed to the gods of “What we view should be.”
    It was dark, very dark, and I was in a city, that I knew, but I didn’t know what city, because I didn’t come in from an actual road, rather I came through someone’s backyard. I was out of money, and out of food, and just about out of energy, but I kept going, and found this road. There were cars passing by me, and the drivers and the occasional passengers didn’t spare a second glance for me. I kept walking, knowing that I would find no charity from such a harsh place. I would have to settle for an alley, a new experience, though I wasn’t excited at the prospect. I’ll keep you posted on how this one will go.

    I continued on, shivering in a cool breeze blowing down the street. I had a hoodie, but it was pretty thin since when I left summer was coming to a close and the heat hadn’t wavered yet, but it was now. I was looking for a suitable alley, even though that seemed like quite the oxymoron. Really, I was just looking for an alley that didn’t seem inhabited, and it didn’t seem like luck was with me at the current moment.
    As always, luck is subject to change, and mine did when I bumped into someone exiting what appeared to be a bookstore/cafe. Luckily he wasn’t carrying any food or drink, but while he stumbled back a little, I fell to the ground, landing ungracefully, and rather painfully on my butt. I looked up at him, my eyes wide, but he didn’t seem too concerned about himself, but rather was concerned about me.
    “Are you alright? I’m sorry, I should really watch where I’m going.” He held out his hand for me to take, which I did. When he said he should watch where he was going, I just shook my head. “You’re not alright?” He asked, confused.
    I smiled slightly, and shook my head and then pointed at myself, then at him before making my hands into an X. I hoped he would understand what I was trying to get across. Sometimes communication was difficult when you’re mute.
    “Ohhh, you think it’s your fault. Can you not talk?” He looked at me curiously, and there was still the slight bit of concern in his dark brown eyes.
    I shook my head no, grinning sheepishly. I wondered what this guy’s name was, and why he was talking to me in the first place. From past experience, city people typically didn’t care about one another, but this guy seemed to be the exception.
    He was looking me up and down, no doubt wondering about my shabby appearance. “Do you have a place to stay the night?”
    This was a dangerous question, and I hesitated slightly before shaking my head slowly.
    “Well… I know this is going to sound a bit creepy, but if you want, you can stay with me. I have an extra room available, and I promise that I won’t be creepy or anything.” He seemed concerned that he was coming off creepy, and I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t slept in a real house since I left home, so I decided to take him up on his generous offer. I’ll let you know how that goes
    Tentei No Mai likes this.
  3. Tentei No Mai Bitch Pudding!

    I like short stories and there's already variety in this thread, so slab some bread and peanut butter on me for I am mad jelly. Though...I always get nervous when I do anything literary-like, but I'll participate, too! I just need to think if I want to use one of my previous projects or go original.
  4. Archangel Sabre Well-Known Member

    The Ceasefire

    ==========

    It had been eight hours since the firing stopped, but on that night there was more tension in the air than any day of war I could remember. It was just us three: Commander Seraph, Combat Elementalist Alex Roe, and myself. In the pouring rain, our horses cut through the hills of Arbor Forest with ease, while the military machines of our mobilized infantry lagged far behind. We couldn’t afford to wait for them, and didn’t stop for rest until we reached the high ground, our destination less than a quarter-mile northward, downhill.

    It was an abandoned factory that went into disuse some decades ago, the forests long since reclaiming the land where roads once lay. The difficult terrain made it nearly impossible for more than a handful of vehicles to make it here, and those only at a high cost. When Riel propositioned a temporary ceasefire and a meeting, Commander Seraph made it clear he would meet no place but here. It astounded him when they accepted. The short notice and Riel’s lack of cavalry would make it nearly impossible for them to position an ambush. They were finally meeting us on our terms, or at least it seemed that way.

    The commander looked towards Roe and asked tersely, “You sense anything suspicious?”
    “Nothing in particular,” he responded, “but the storm and all the life in this forest makes it difficult to be certain. Three, maybe four people in the factory, no mobile armor, far as I can tell.”
    Seraph turned to me, “And you, Colonel?”
    “Same,” I answered, “a few people in there. No tanks, no artillery. This isn‘t an ambush.”
    “They’re desperate …” the commander muttered under his breath, worriedly.

    All that was left to do was wait and observe, which we did until our APC arrived from the rear. A single soldier came to greet us, the Vice Commander Abigail Grace, but there were no good words to give her.

    “Abigail,” the commander didn’t even look in her direction, “your assistance won’t be needed here tonight. Go back and regroup with the main forces. I will contact you by radio. If you don’t hear from me in one hour,” he looked her dead in the eyes, “hit them with everything we’ve got. Everything. Don’t spare even a single artillery shell. You have enough to force them off this island. And after you do, you run. If reinforcements are coming, they’re coming from the sea and are already on their way. You’ll have two weeks. Destroy what they have left and get the hell out of here. Use whatever fuel we have getting inland, then ride your horses until they collapse, then run until you collapse yourself. Do you understand me?”

    I still remember the look on her face. Pure terror. But she nodded, and quickly regained her composure.

    “Don’t worry,” the commander continued, “I said if you don’t hear from me. This is either going to be very good or very bad for us. Just don’t quite know which yet.”
    “I know what you mean, commander. We’ll be looking forward to your call.”

    They saluted, and she quickly rushed back to the APC. It was just us three again.

    Feeling compelled to inquire, I turned to Seraph, “What do you think our odds are tonight, really?”
    His gaze was steady towards the factory, “Truthfully, I’d rather not think about it.”

    * * *

    The trip down was short. Vines were covering the ragged exterior of the factory, a show of nature reclaiming what was once hers. We tied our horses out front, and made our way inside. It was a dark void. The factory was almost completely empty, but for plants breaking their way through the foundation. A single table lay in the center of the room, with a lamp sitting atop it. Three well-groomed soldiers were waiting for us, they stood to attention.

    “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Commander Seraph,” spoke the center soldier, a calm exterior hiding clear nervousness within.

    Seraph responded by pulling his gun out and laying it on the table with his hand around it, “Do I look like I’m here for pleasantries? Give me your agreement or get the hell out of here.”

    “Your reputation proceeds you, Mr. Seraph,” the one on the right, not wearing a military uniform, “you’re as brash as they make you out to be. It’s not too late to stand down. The emperor is prepared to offer you a fiefdom and a high ranking position in the Riel Army, for your full and unconditional surrender at this juncture.”
    His reply was swift, “You can tell Everett he can take that offer and piss on it. And if that’s all you came here to say you better start praying.”
    The center soldier was visibly flustered, “The alternative,” he threw down a stack of papers hastily, “a six month ceasefire. After which, I assure you, the empire will destroy this entire pathetic island, leaving not even a single one of your soldiers alive. Real battle, you wouldn’t last a month.”

    The commander looked over the paper, gun still in hand, and a grin crept from his mouth as his eyes met those of the soldier in front of him, “I would rather live as a god of this pathetic island for six months, and then die, then spend a long and full life as the lapdog of Emperor Everett the Second.”

    He scribbled his signature on the paper and threw it back, “You have twenty-four hours to get the fuck off my island. And I suggest you do it, or I assure you, not you nor a single one of your soldiers will ever live to see my death.”

    No more words were exchanged. The commander turned and walked away, leaving me and Alex to follow. There was still a lingering tension as we climbed back onto our horses and prepared to return to camp. But as we went on our way it slowly faded. After traveling some distance on guard, we could be almost certain there would be no ambush lying in wait.

    “Abigail,” Seraph spoke into his radio.
    “Sir?” her voice barely came through in the static.
    “Cancel last order. In theory, we have six months. But leave the tanks idling, least for tonight, just in case.”

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