• Hello!

    Either you have not registered on this site yet, or you are registered but have not logged in. In either case, you will not be able to use the full functionality of this site until you have registered, and then logged in after your registration has been approved.

    Registration is FREE, so please register so you can participate instead of remaining a lurker....

    Please be certain that the location field is correctly filled out when you register. All registrations that appear to be bogus will be rejected. Which means that if your location field does NOT match the actual location of your registration IP address, then your registration will be rejected.

    Sorry about the strictness of this requirement, but it is necessary to block spammers and scammers at the door as much as possible.

NaNoWriMo - Paste your work here!

I held her close as I gazed into those amber eyes. I told her those three little words that people just say to give the other person comfort.

I love Tacos.
 
RobbiesCornField said:
I'm not even inventing any new snakes!
Click to expand...

And believe it or not I *may* (or may not) be inventing a 'new snake' for my book :rofl:

It depends if I take it in the direction I have planned out. We'll see when I get there.

Oh, and I'm using the names of my black milks as main character names :laugh:...well, sort of.
 
Thesaurus.com is my friend.

Grammar, however, seems to be my enemy. It's been too long since I've had to properly use commas, colon's, and semi-colon's :laugh:
 
I'm up to about 4900 + words. Mine's a fantasy, no plot here I'm making it up as I go. But yeah the spellcheck and grammar check (those squiggly lines you see on word) are so annoying! I'm like yeah, I'm writing here, gonna fix that later!
 
I'm at 5040. It's been slow writing today, I don't know if i'm not feeling well or what but I'm so sleepy. Hoping to get in about another 1000 words or so tonight.

Mine has a pseudo plot. I have lots of notes that I've collected on ideas I've had, some I'll use, some I won't. Basically I sit at work all day thinking about what direction I'm going to take, then I write it quick on a notecard on my lunch break before I forget.
 
Okay, so yesterday I was faced with a dilemma as I realized I was not enjoying the Steampunk story at all. Every word was forced and writing it was the last thing I wanted to do.

Anyway, there I was, having a shower and I just said to myself "All right, it's November 3rd. It's time to decide. Start with a different concept, or continue pushing." I went with a different concept. Zombies! :)

Anyway, I'm up to 5803 words on the new story. I'd post what I wrote tonight, but it's from the perspective of a soldier, so the language isn't really permissible here. :)
 
Nova_C said:
Okay, so yesterday I was faced with a dilemma as I realized I was not enjoying the Steampunk story at all. Every word was forced and writing it was the last thing I wanted to do.

Anyway, there I was, having a shower and I just said to myself "All right, it's November 3rd. It's time to decide. Start with a different concept, or continue pushing." I went with a different concept. Zombies! :)

Anyway, I'm up to 5803 words on the new story. I'd post what I wrote tonight, but it's from the perspective of a soldier, so the language isn't really permissible here. :)
Click to expand...

Post anyway! Just asterix out the bad words! If you show me yours, I'll show you mine!
 
This is an except from the story. A soldier has had an implant put into his brain that allows direct communication with an operator. The soldier is Captain Daniels of the US Army. The operator is a Lieutenant Gregson. In my story anything Gregson says is italicized because only Daniels can hear her.

*PLEASE NOTE*
This story is going to be pretty graphic. Nothing too extreme in this excerpt, but it does contain the first encounter, so viewer discretion is advised.

TRANSMISSION BEGIN

-is the last thing I thought I'd be doing today.

Good morning, Captain.

Jesus Christ! You just scared the **** out of me, Gregson. Where've you been?

Collating the data, sir.

For two weeks? That's a lot of data.

Yes, sir, it is.

Well, anyway, you're not going to believe where I am.

I know exactly where you are, sir.

You're no fun. Anyway, I'm riding on a Blackhawk over the Sahara. I mean, ****, when I asked to be put back with my unit, I didn't know my unit was about to partake in a raid on a warlord. What the hell are we doing here, anyway? Why are we getting involved in this little war? Ah well, I go where they tell me. The life of a soldier.

Well, back to it. I'm sitting on the rear bench of an UH60 Blackhawk, strapped in tight. I'm back in my combat fatigues, desert camo this time. ****, I'm glad it's not arctic camo like last time. As normal, I'm weighted down by a ton of gear. Armor, sidearm, assault rifle, grenades, rations, water, you get the idea. The sidearm is an M9A1, the rifle is an M4. Basically, they've decided to give us nothing special this time out.

Beside me, on my left, is Lieutenant Dawson. Good soldier, kind of a jerk. Especially when drunk, which happens a lot. Like, a hell of a lot. Across from me are Corporals Anders and Invit. Anders is probably the best shot I've ever seen. She could easily qualify for the snipers program, but has stayed with the unit. Another good soldier. Quiet, keeps to herself. Invit is a strange one. He's never around, but never gets in trouble for it. Somehow he's always there for inspections or orders, but otherwise is a ghost. I have no idea what the hell that's all about, but most of the unit doesn't like him because most of the unit never has a chance to get to know him. I know I haven't.

The other four people in the Blackhawk are guys I've never seen before, from the government. They're soldiers of some kind, but I have no idea what outfit. They don't look any different from us and have the same weapons as us, but they're also wearing packs with something heavy looking inside them. We were told to leave these dudes alone, that my unit was support only. These guys are leading the mission.

Flying along with the Blackhawk I'm in are four other Blackhawks, all with guys from my unit. Forty soldiers in all. Three AH-61 Cobras are providing close air support and are flying in front of the Blackhawks. All we're missing is a bunch of HMMWVs and we'd be able to reenact the assault on Mogadishu. Not that I'd want to. Christ, this better not go like that. At least we don't have to worry about non-hostiles this time.

All right, word's coming over the wire that we're approaching our target. I can't really make anything out that doesn't look like more desert, but it's not much of a stronghold according to the briefing. Our mission is retrieval of stolen tech of some kind, a biological weapon. Someone really had a bug up their *** over this, said it was vitally important that the contents of the metal case are not compromised. I'm guessing that the four unknowns in my chopper are here for that, whatever it is.

Okay, I can see some kind of encampment ahead. Tents and the like. Briefing said there was a bunker among the tents. The Blackhawks are slowing, letting the Cobras pull ahead. I think the Cobras are going to take out any machine gun nests while we exit the choppers. Things are about to get hairy, but I'll do my best to keep you updated.

“Two minutes!” The co-pilot yells back to us. Everyone is cool, no tension. Good, my guys are still frosty as ever. This'll be a cakewalk. The Blackhawks have slowed further, dropping in altitude. Almost time.

“One minute!”

****, the Cobras are ******* them up! I can see about three smoke plumes ahead of us now, can't hear anything over the engines right above my head, though. Some small arms fire from the ground, but nothing to give the Cobras pause. Yellow flashes as rockets stream from the pods on the Cobras' hardpoints to wreck something on the ground. More smoke. The militia encamping around the bunker should be in total disarray by now.

“Ten seconds!”

Blackhawks have stopped. Time to drop the ropes. I've released myself from the harness and I drop the attached rope out my side of the chopper, goggles to keep the sand out of my eyes lowered. I'll be first one on the ground. Swinging out on the rope, I brace my feet against the rail on the side. Just about go time.

“Go, go go!”

Let's do this! I kick off the side, letting the rope slide through my hands. All this gear is making me really move. Gloves getting hot, but the ground is coming up. Umph! Okay, down, first position is the machine gun nest on the southeast side of the tents. It's buried in smoke, should be disabled. The sand kicked up from the choppers is obscuring a lot of what's ahead, but that may work in our favor. So far, no sign of counterattack. Now that I'm leaving the drop zone behind, I can hear the footfalls of the guys behind me. My weapon is tucked up close to my shoulder, pointed low. Any mother****** that gets in my way won't have time to say sorry.

Okay, first position reached. Machine gun nest is destroyed, Cobras did a great job. Looks like the nest had been crewed, but I'm not sure by how many. The sandbags that had been stacked have been strewn around haphazardly by the rocket fire. A couple scorched and dismembered bodies are visible.

“Check left!” I yell to Fredrichs, a Corporal in my unit. He takes a couple guys with him and sets up an outlook on the other side of the nest. I can see the other team has reached their first position on the opposite side of the encampment, at another burning machine gun nest. Okay, time to move forward. Gotta keep low, use the sandbags as cover. Checking past destroyed nest. Nobody. The hell?

Bunker in sight, though, straight ahead. No guards. Did the Cobras force everyone into the bunker? Nevermind, I'll deal with that then. Need to secure exterior. ****, googles are still down. Okay, not anymore.

“Fredrichs, cover left! Nickson, cover right! Let's move!” I say to my guys. Three guys go with Fredrichs, three with Nickson. The rest are staying with me as we move towards the bunker. Taking a quick glance to check the other team. They're spreading out similar to us as they match our progress. Wait, where the **** are those government soldiers? Nevermind.

Okay, we're about halfway to the bunker. We need to stop here for a minute and make sure we're not walking into an ambush. I wave to Fredrichs to get his attention. He stops. I motion with my hand for him to get cover. Doing the same for Nickson. I'm leaning against some kind of counter that's outside a tent.

Most of the tents are pretty ragged, look like they've been here for years. Not much in the way of supplies. Looks like the place is abandoned for the most part, but I swear there was small arms fire when the Cobras attacked. There's got to be people here. Closer to the bunker I can see a couple of fortifications made with sandbags. No obvious people garrisoning, though. What are they waiting for?

This is making me feel uneasy. There's something wrong here, and it's not just the lack of militia. Something is going on and I have no idea what the **** it is. Dawson is beside me shaking his head. “What the **** is going on, sir?” He asks me.

“No clue, Dawson,” I reply. “Aside from the corpses burning in the machine gun nests, the place looks deserted.”

No one says anything for a minute. I shake my head. The other team is holding across from us waiting for us to move ahead. **** it. “All right, let's get to that bunker.” I start heading forward, waving at my team to move with me. I can feel the tension. We'd rather be shot at than run into this kind of creepy ******* situation.

Bunker's just head. No one is in the fortifications. This is getting worse by the minute. What is waiting for us inside that concrete tomb? I've reached the bunker, stopping again. There's an open entrance on this side, dug into the ground with a concrete staircase leading down, blocked halfway by sandbags. The bunker itself is squat, sticking out of the ground about four feet, the rest buried. The other team has surrounded the other side. I can't see into the open entrance, too dim compared to the desert sun out here.

“Dawson, get a light on that doorway,” I say. He complies, pulling a flashlight out of his vest and shining it into the open entrance. Still can't see anything. ****, we're going to have to go in blind. I really, really don't like this.

“Okay, Anders, Dawson, Nickson with me. Fredrichs and Invit, cover the exit. The rest of you stand ready, when I radio back to you, come down.” My guys all nod back to me. Good. Time to go down. Anders, Dawson and Nickson are crouching behind me, waiting.

“What if we don't hear back from you?” Jensen asks. Always the pessimist. “If I don't radio back in five minutes or less, then come down and pull my *** out of the fire, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” He says. ******.

No sense in delaying any longer. Taking my first steps down into the bunker, my squad right behind me. I've reached the stacked sandbags. In the corner of my eye I can see the butt of a flashlight. Anders is handing me hers. I take it and shine it into the darkness. Can barely see anything. The hallway leading into the bunker is dirty, with dark streaks on the wall, maybe brown. The floor is covered in enough sand to make it look like the bunker has no floor at all. About twenty feet in the hallway crosses another. I can't see much further in than that. Handing the flashlight back to Anders, I say, “Keep that light pointed forward.”

“Sir.”

My weapon is tucked back against my shoulder. This is seriously the creepiest thing I've ever done for this army. The sandbags are about waist high. I should be able to just step over them. Watch your nuts, boy! Okay, done. I'm inside. Shuffling behind me. Anders is beside me, holding the light. **** this.

“Everyone, put a light on your weapon.” I should've done this before stepping into this place. My flashlight is on my belt. Nice of the military to provide us with the rails for attachment, even on the M4. Not often they get used, though. Ruins the balance of the rifle. Okay, attached. Yeah, the weapon is front heavy now. Harder to use. Better than moving blind, so stop griping.

“All right, let's go.” Four beams of light are shining forward, lighting the place up. Now that I've been down here a few minutes, the light is enough to make the end of the hallway visible. Nothing, empty, almost featureless, save for more dark streaks on the wall. I'm starting to think that they're old bloodstains, but not sure.

Moving forward. The place is silent. Noticing a bit of a funny smell, though. It's barely there, but it's from something rank. Garbage, maybe? Spoiled food? Don't know. At the first intersection. Pressing my back against the wall at the corner. What I can see of the hallway across from me is clear. Anders is against the wall opposite me. Giving her a quick nod to signal. Moving around the corner, crouching low. Dawson is right beside me. “Clear!” I say. Anders says the same right behind me.

This hallway is completely empty save for the streaks as well. What is this place? A ******* decoy? A joke? “Split up. Dawson, you're with me. Anders, you and Nickson go down that hallway. Keep radios open.” A click in my ear, then a very quiet hiss as the radio headsets go live. Occasional breathing sounds come through. Easy to ignore.

Moving down the hallway. Smell getting stronger. This place is ******* with me now, never been this nervous during an op. Another corner ahead, getting closer. There's a sound now, sounds almost like someone huffing. Touching Dawson's shoulder to tell him to stop, he just jumped. He's as freaked out as I am. He nods as I gesture to the wall. Moving ahead of him now. Smell is definitely something rotten. Huffing sound getting louder. I'm certain now that around the corner the hallway is definitely not empty.

Jesus, ****! What the **** was that? Something thumped, felt the vibration through the wall. Goddamn, what the hell is around that corner? I'm at the edge, crouched. Dawson's right behind me. Smell is overpowering. Something's close by, probably right around the corner. Whatever it is, it's going to be in my face when I come around, whatever it is, it better not ******* be waiting for me.

**** this, let's get it over with. Time to move. Ready! Ready! Go!

What the **** is that? Is that a person? What the hell happened to him? Loose flesh, sagging face! ****, he's standing up! He's alive! Goddamn, the smell is coming from him! He's naked, it looks like his cock is rotting right off his body. Oh, god, he's screaming! Screaming like no human I've ever heard before, like an animal. Reaching, reaching for me.

Recoil against my shoulder, quick, three round burst. He's stumbling, but still screaming. Get away from him, get some distance! Dawson is beside me, his face white, but his rifle is pointing straight at the head of what looks like a rotting corpse. A corpse that walks. He's firing, the sound loud in my ears. Flashes in the dark. Having trouble keeping my vision clear. Dawson is stepping back with me. A thud, vision clearing. The guy is down, face down on the ground. It looks like his head is melting into the ground. Dawson shot him in the face, but it's as if a bomb went off in his head.

****! ****! Another one! Another one coming around the corner! Rifle's at my shoulder, I'm putting three rounds in the face of that one. Screaming like the first, an animal. I want to gag on the smell. Feeling the recoil, it drops to the ground like the first, it's face gone from the impact of the rounds. Dawson steps ahead. Gunfire from his rifle. There's more coming.

Rifle up, firing. Target down. Check next. Confirmed target, rifle up. Firing. Target down. Check next. Confirmed target, firing. Target down. Check next. Check next. No more targets.

No movement from downed targets. Area clear. “Clear!”

“Clear!”

“What the **** is going on over there?” Anders is almost screaming in my ear over the radio.

“Anders, Nickson, are you clear?” I ask over the radio.

“Affirmitive, no hostiles, area clear.”

“Then get the **** over here, right now.” Letting my rifle down, trying to calm myself. I'd take deep breaths, but the ******* smell. Christ, it's horrible.

“Sir, what just happened?” Dawson is asking me. Shaking my head at him. “I mean, Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah,” I say back to him, nodding. Prodding the naked corpse closest to me. No response. What in God's name happened down here? Taking a look around. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...Looks like seven total. All of them naked, all of them looking like they've been dead for days, all of them alive as of sixty seconds ago. **** me.

Running in the hallway. Anders and Nickson are coming up. I can see the light from their flashlights bounding on the wall. A gasp as they finally see what's on the ground.

“Christ,” Nickson says.

Anders asks, “What were you guys shooting at?” I'm gesturing at the bodies on the floor with my rifle. “But it looks like they've been dead for days.”

“I know,” I say. Dawson is shaking his head again. I'm surprised no one has thrown up yet. God knows I want to.

“But...” She's starting to say, but I know what she's going to say.

“I know. But as of two or three minutes ago, they were up, walking around, and screaming.” She's crouching near one of them. Using gloved hand to turn the head. I can see the brain in what remains of the skull. Anders is still turning it. The brain looks very, very soft. Like an overstretched water ballon. Oh, God, she's prodding it.

“****!” Yeah, Anders, **** is right. The ******* brain just ******* spilled all over. The water balloon analogy was right on. Her prodding broke whatever membrane was holding it together. It looks like gray water, slightly thick, but almost completely dissolved. How the **** was that thing walking around? Okay, Dawson is throwing up now. So is Anders. Let's get the **** out of here.

“Everyone out,” I'm ordering. Yeah. I'm done with this place. They're right behind me. They don't want to stay here any more than I do.

The air is clearing. Fresher. Brighter. There's the exit. Climbing over the sandbags blocking the doorway leading out of the bunker. I've never been so happy to be in a desert as right the **** now.

“Captain, what happened?” It's Jensen.

“You don't ******* want to know,” I answer. Pushing past them. Dawson, Anders and Nickson aren't saying anything either. I wonder if I'm as pale as they are. Probably. A couple of guys are moving as if to go down into the bunker. “Everyone, stay out. Where are the government guys?”

“Over there, sir,” Fredichs is pointing back a bit, near the corner of the bunker. I'm going to leave this in their hands. I don't want anything else to do with this place. Walking over to them. They're looking at me, no question on their faces. I bet those ******** knew what was going to happen.

“Area is secure,” I say to them. “My teams will hold perimeter until you finish whatever it is you plan on doing down there.” ********. All they did was nod and push past me. All right, let's set up this perimeter.

Captain Daniels.

Jesus Christ, lady. You just scared the **** out of me.

Evacuate your men now.

What?

Sir, evacuate your men now.

Why?

I'll explain later, Captain, but I have operational knowledge not even those soldiers from the government do. Evacuate your men right now.

All right, no argument here. Switching the radio over to the band that the choppers are on. “Overlord, this is Nomad, over,” I say into the radio.

There's a crackling noise. Oh, okay, they're responding. “This is Overlord.”

“Requesting immediate evacuation at the LZ, over.”

“Affirmative, Nomad, pickup in four minutes, over.”

“Copy. Nomad out.” Switching the radio back to the team frequency. “Everyone, back to the LZ, on the double!” They're looking at me, startled. I'm waving towards the LZ, already moving. Good, no questions, they're all running as well. Leaving the compound. All forty soldiers are right behind me. Choppers already approaching station.

Sand in my eyes, didn't lower my goggles. **** it. Blackhawks are landing. Everyone is splitting into their original eight man groups. I'm at my Blackhawk. Better check to make sure everyone is getting on board. One, two, three. Okay, that's everyone except the government guys. Am I leaving them behind?

Get out of there now, Captain.

All right, I'm in the chopper. Strapped in. “Go, go!” I'm almost screaming at the pilot now. Good man, he's not arguing. We're airborne. Okay, Gregson, what the **** just happened down there? Gregson?

TRANSMISSION END
Click to expand...
 
Wow! It looks good so far! I can't wait to read more of it!

So here's an excerpt of what I have so far (only at 1300 words):

Parades of black, interspersed with white, gray and red, lined the green field of granite tombstones. A lone observer saw tears and expressions of grief run across myriad faces. Words of regret and consolation were whispered; rustling among the day’s stillness. The perfume of lilies and roses wafted among the mourners before settling upon dew-dampened grass. The lone coffin at the center was black, absorbing all light and sending it to the darker hole beneath.

The observer saw the deceased’s sister walk towards the husband of the deceased; Becca gripped James’s hand in a tight grip as they hugged, bonded together in what seemed to be their shared overwhelming despair.

“She wouldn’t want you to grieve forever,” Becca said. “She’d want you to move on.”

Outraged, the observer crossed her arms. “I’m not even in the ground, yet. Man-hungry back-stabber,” she muttered.

“It’s just so hard to be without her,” James said. His water-rimmed eyes lingered on the coffin before turning to the neckline of Becca’s black dress. “I just don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

“Probably my sister, then you’ll go back to however you were sleeping with when I died,” the observer noted. “**** this; I’m going to see someone who actually gave a damn.” Marlie started to stride towards the man standing slightly away from the crowd.

True grief lined his face in grooves around his mouth and eyes; her best friend, the man who truly loved her, Marcus. Within in a few feet of him, she hit a wall and was propelled to the gates outside that rimmed the perimeter of the cemetery.

“Hell yeah, we’ve had a corporeal event!” The man watching the monitors jumped to his feet with his startling announcement. “A sensor in Doventry Cemetery just spiked. I’m sending someone out there now.” Doing a hip-shake around the computer console, the fair-haired young man followed it up with a spin.

“I remember the first event I witnessed. I think the moonwalk was my dance of choice,” the senior analyst on duty stated to his second in command. The impromptu performances often provided amusement to other, more experienced, staff members at the Paranormal Events Agency, or PEA.

Todd Grant had worked his way up the ranks in the last 20 years. His once black hair had lightened to pewter, but the burnt toast of his intense brown eyes still remained. He also maintained his broad form with weekly workouts at the Agency’s gym. His second in command, his wife, Hilda was a tall slender woman with rich cocoa brown hair that perfectly matched her eyes.

Turning towards her husband as he spoke, she replied, “Mine was the twist.” Having met her husband here at the Agency she had also worked closely with him and helped build the agency from the ground up. Without the agency, she doubted she’d be here. Reaching out, she put her hand on his arm and turned back towards the monitor. “Doventry? Isn’t that where Marlie Adams was to be buried?”

“Yes, I believe it is.” With a wink he walked towards the monitors and asked William, the young analyst, “Is there anyone close to the area?”

“Marcus Wilbanks is attending a funeral there,” William replied. “He responded though, stating he would do a sweep.”

Feeling his wife’s presence at his back, he turned a smug smile her way. “He’ll be the host, I believe.”

“You always seem to know these things ahead of time. Why is that?” Hilda asked.

“It’s my own special brand of the paranormal. Marcus is a very powerful sender, and he’d cared deeply for the woman. If anyone was to provide enough ‘juice’ to induce corporeality, it would be him.”
 
Looks good so far. :) I like the setup.

One thing, though: Whenever you're tempted to use a semi-colon, use a period or comma instead. There is almost no situation where either of the two aren't more appropriate. This is something that was drilled into me by many English teachers because I used to use semi-colons as well.

(But save the editing for December!)
 
Nova_C said:
Looks good so far. :) I like the setup.

One thing, though: Whenever you're tempted to use a semi-colon, use a period or comma instead. There is almost no situation where either of the two aren't more appropriate. This is something that was drilled into me by many English teachers because I used to use semi-colons as well.

(But save the editing for December!)
Click to expand...

I always do that with semi-colons, mainly because they are right next to the comma's. And I'm lazy and don't have to move my pinky over. I usually go back and edit most of them out later, lol. It's my lazy fast typing trick!
 
Here's my prologue. I'm sure it needs major editing, but I'll save most of that for after November. Names are not set in stone, I'm very indecisive when it comes to names. Prologue is set in 1800's (date also not set in stone), but the rest of the story takes place in the present. Totally just realized the indents and stuff didn't show up in the quote :shrugs: but I'm too tired to fix it now, must go to bed!

Prologue

England
Year 1875

The bodies of three men lay on the floor. All of them were dead. Edwin Archer stood over the them, looking down in contempt. It was dark in the room except for the kerosene lamp on the nearby table casting its eerie shadows upon the lifeless forms.
“What have you done Edwin?” a voice whispered softly. Edwin spun around to see his master walk into the doorway. He was tall a tall man with a weary look on his face. Short, thick brown hair covered his head. The black cloak he always wore was barely visible in the low light of the lamp. In his hands he carried a barrel within which liquid could be heard moving from side to side. He couldn’t have been more than thirty-five years old, yet his brown eyes had the look of a much older soul.
“Benito,” Edwin said, shock in his voice. “I did not hear you come in.”
“No one ever does, my son. We are not to be seen. We are not to be heard. We are meant to be like shadows in the dark, existing unnoticed in a veil of secrecy. We must avoid attention like the shadow avoids the light.” He set the barrel down and approached one of the men lying on the floor. Kneeling over the body he stared down at it with penetrating eyes, examining it from head to toe. He found what he was looking for under the man‘s collar, the puncture mark from which the man’s life had been drained.
He stood up and performed the same evaluation on the two remaining bodies. In both cases he found the same puncture wound. The second body’s wound was on the neck, just like the first. The third body’s puncture was found on the inside of the wrist.
“What you have done here, Edwin, goes against everything I have taught you!” Benito’s tone was sharp with disappointment. “You did this in public, in someone’s house! Do you think this will go unnoticed?”
“I wasn’t thinking-”
“Exactly!” Benito cut him off. His voice, though still a whisper, was raised in anger. “You did not think! You are too impulsive. We are creatures of stealth, creatures of thought. Wisdom is our friend and impulse is our enemy. Impulse is the light that will reveal our shadow. Impulse will get you discovered, it will get you killed.” He walked over and placed his hand on Edwin’s shoulder. On contact he could sense the river of rage still flowing through the young man. It was fierce. He went on, “I chose you as my pupil because you are wise. I knew it from the first time that I saw you. But you must use your mind to control your actions, not your brawn.”
“I am sorry, Benito. I admit I could not control myself”
“Sorry will not work every time, Edwin. There are people in the houses next door. What if they had heard you? What if they had come over to see what was happening?”
“I would have killed them,” Edwin replied nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.
“And then what! More people would come investigate the commotion. What would you do with them? Would you kill them too? You can’t kill everyone in England just because you decide to act on an impulse! This is not a game!”
Edwin dropped his head, now sullen. The rage was leaving his body as he contemplated his mistake.
“However,” Benito’s voice was calm again, “I think you were lucky tonight. I do not think anyone suspects. It is quiet all around us.” He dropped his hand from Edwin’s shoulder and walked over to the barrel he had set on the floor. “Now we must take necessary steps to cover up your mistake. The puncture marks cannot be found, it will put all of us in danger.” As he said this he reached down and picked up the barrel. He started pouring it’s contents on the bodies, on the floor, on the walls. The barrel now half empty, he handed it to Edwin and told him to continue dousing the room. He then picked up the lantern sitting on the table and held it loosely in his hand.
“You will be happy to know that one good thing came of this little fiasco,” Benito said, a little smile now forming on his face. A glint of white showing from his mouth.
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“You’re skill has improved greatly. Not a drop of blood spilled, even in your impulsive rage. That is impressive.”
Edwin smiled as he finished pouring out the contents of the barrel and dropped it on the floor. “Thank you Benito,” he gave a little bow, “I’m a quick learner.”
“Indeed. And tomorrow we will work on controlling your anger. I hope you will be quick to learn that lesson as well.” He started walking out of the room, Edwin following on his heels. “Now let’s go home, it is almost morning and I do not intend to be caught in the light.”
As they walked out of the room Benito dropped the lantern he was still holding. The flame immediately caught the kerosene they had emptied on the floor and spread throughout, covering everything in the room including the bodies. By the time anyone had noticed something was wrong they were already gone, vanished into the darkness of the night.
Click to expand...
 
I'm having a brain fart.

Could someone give me a word(s) that describes someone who is a follower, goes with the flow, easily gives in to peer pressure to fit in, etc...
 
Words for Follower!

addict, adherent, admirer, advocate, apostle, attendant, backer, believer, bootlicker, buff, client, cohort, companion, convert, copycat, devotee, disciple, fan, fancier, freak*, habitué, hanger-on, helper, imitator, lackey, member, minion, parasite, participant, partisan, patron, promoter, proselyte, protégé, pupil, representative, satellite, sectary, servant, sidekick, stooge, supporter, sycophant, toady, vassal, votary, worshiper, zealot
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top