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The Cold of Winter short story

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ExRannyn

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The Cold of Winter short story

PostMon Oct 12, 2015 8:30 am

Hi folks just joined here and wanted to upload the first bit of a short story I'm writing. I intend to do small thousand word 'chapters' that I will upload as I do them too - I hope you enjoy them and all feedback appreciated!

The Cold Of Winter

Waking from her slumber, Silene found herself shivering and cold despite the multiple layers she was wearing to insulate her from the static bitterness of the frozen, deserted city. To an outside viewer, the city was completely abandoned and overgrown with no semblance of human activity whatsoever. This would be expected, however, as this world was one of many that was overrun and occupied by the Scourge many years before. The majority of their forces left the planet after several years of occupation, presumably to further their assault against humanity’s other habitats, leaving only a small garrison force behind. Despite the onslaught, many people managed to hide in the wilder places on the planet, only returning to the cities to reclaim what was once theirs and try and eek out an existence where they could. Many such survivors made it their righteous mission in life to attack the alien occupiers, engaging in hit-and-run assaults and doing what they can. Regardless of their previous fortunes before the invasion, all now found themselves on equal footing as people from all walks of life would do their part. How much of an impact these raids actually had on the Scourge was unknown, but whenever word reached the network of shanty towns and resistance bases of what was regarded as a ‘successful mission’, spirits were lifted and the bleakness temporarily abated. As the Scourge didn’t respond in force it was likely that in reality they had little effect. Nonetheless such small and frequent morale boosts served to keep those that regarded themselves as the ‘Resistance’ going in these dark times.
After several failed attempts to rouse herself from her warm corner, she eventually managed to grab a steel pipe jutting a few feet above her head and pulled herself upright. She felt the coldness of the wall on her back as her blinking eyes started to make sense of the world around her. Soft, throbbing pain gestured the locations of various bruises that pock-marked her body, reminding her of the fire-fights her unit had been engaged in the recent days. The pain itself provided a sharp focus of where she was and why. She was in a fifteenth story room of a very tall building several blocks down from a major crossroads. The previous night her unit had been ambushed at the same crossroads, and as far as she could tell she was the only one to escape, presuming her compatriots had been killed or worse; captured. Without any form of long-range communication equipment she had no way of notifying her superiors of what had happened, and she couldn’t remember the size and disposition of the attacking force either. All she could do now was try and evade the enemy and get home. Despite the odds being against her, she was not daunted as such is the life of a Resistance fighter. In fact, she was thankful that they hadn’t been thorough with their attempts to check every room of every building nearby, allowing her the brief respite that she’d been given.
Using her rifle as an ad-hoc crutch, she pulled herself to her feet, gritting her teeth as her senses told her something inside her chest was damaged. She looked down to see a fist-sized scorched burn, presumably from a plasma round that had hit her and burnt her skin. She didn’t remember being hit, but the adrenaline pumping the night before probably blocked out the pain. Her eyes adjusted to accommodate the morning sunrise that was filtered by the jungle of metal sky-scrappers and grey towers. A cold gust of air chilled the parts of her face not covered by her headgear as she looked out of the window. She neatly snuck towards one side of the window to look down the street towards the crossroads. She squinted to focus her view, but her expression faltered as she could see the still burning wrecks of her unit’s vehicles and the charred plasma-scorched bodies of her fellow fighters and friends. Being part of such a squad was more akin to a family, where everyone had their idiosyncrasies and foibles but were tolerated in order to keep the group together. Emotional pain now crossed her mind as she had lost such a family, sadness crept into her heart and her eyes watered knowing she would never laugh or love one of those precious people she had spent her entire life with. With the full gravity of such a blow, she slumped back into a corner and cried.
Some time later she tried to refocus on her goal at hand; to get back to base in one piece and report what had happened here. Her and her unit were completely taken off-guard by their attackers, suggesting her superiors had no knowledge of such enemy forces in this area. She must warn them in case they send others to only get ambushed themselves. Pulling out a scruffy, torn map she sat crossed legged on the floor, ensuring she doesn’t expose her silhouette at the window in the event of enemy scouts spotting her. Carefully unfolding the tattered map she marked various important points of interest with a red crayon she had found earlier, such as her current location and the location of the ambush too. She also marked the location of the most recent friendly hideout her unit had visited, as such things tend not to me marked on maps and the locations constantly changed to prevent them being found whenever Resistance fighters were captured and interrogated.
After studying the map, she choose a route that would both get her home as quickly as possible without compromising on plenty of terrain to cover her. She made one last check out of each corner of the window and, seeing no obvious threats, she darted through the only door from the room, down the stairwell and out of a rear exit into the unknown cold and fog outside.
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Thunderboy

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Re: The Cold of Winter short story

PostTue Oct 13, 2015 9:50 am

You better write more. I am very intrested to see what happens to her!
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ExRannyn

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Re: The Cold of Winter short story

PostTue Oct 13, 2015 2:21 pm

Hi guys here's the next bit! I have actually finished part three two so will post that straight after - enjoy!

The only sound to interrupt the motionless, inert atmosphere of the abandoned city was the high-pitched squealing of Giron’s badly maintained all-terrain buggy. Alone it travelled along the empty boulevards and pavilions, avoiding the debris and shells of vehicles left to rust. A gentle snow was falling and covered everything with a shimmering crust of glimmering powder. Giron’s passenger, Caleb, was on look-out duty, searching for anything or anyone that may be of interest. Such patrolling was considerably boring, as contact with any kind of enemy was very rare plus the city itself had been largely looted of anything of value a long time ago. Slumping into his seat to try and protect himself from the biting wind, Caleb tried to avoid doing any form of work and passed the time by nodding off. A violent shoulder jab accompanied by a yell jolted Caleb into a more upright position as Giron poignantly reminded him of his duty to keep an eye out for trouble. As Caleb expected, nothing but cold, grey-sided buildings, bits of jagged metal and falling snow nourished his view. He awkwardly turned in his seat and pulled on his safety belt in order to look backwards and the only thing remarkably different from the forward view was the buggy’s tyre tracks fading into the distance as the snow and fog covered their wake.
By now, the sky was fading black as night was falling. The snow itself was bouncing the light back from the buggy’s headlamps, resulting in a glare that reduced both riders ability to see ahead. It was time to pull over and find some shelter for the night, so Giron instructed the younger Caleb to scan for somewhere suitable to endure the darker hours. After a few persuasive finger jabs on the device, a holographic display rapidly expanded, lighting up Caleb’s face. It illustrated an interactive map of the city, showing the city’s thoroughfares, buildings and other infrastructure. Giron’s driving, however, left much to be desired as the bumpy road surface provided ample interruptions to Caleb’s attempts to garner any actual useful information from the hi-tech display. Caleb yapped at Giron to slow down, or even pull over in order to find somewhere good to hide. Giron obliged and gently pulled the vehicle to a stop in the middle of the empty road.
Rubbing his hands and blowing on them to keep them warm, Caleb was trying to restore feeling to his fingertips as he kept scrolling through the image of the cityscape. Taking the opportunity to stretch their legs, both men tried to expose themselves as least as they could to the quickly dropping temperature and appeared to use a series of grunts and barks to debate which location would be best to camp for the night. No real discussion was actually had, just lots of pointing and head shaking. Eventually they came to an accord, or what was presumably an accord by the muffled but seemingly aligned sounds coming from them both, and the lack of head shaking too. They remounted their vehicle, and drove for a few more miles to find the agreed spot.
The spot they had decided upon was a multi-storey below-ground parking lot where they intended to go into its depths so as to protect them from the elements outside. However, despite the seemingly benign nature of the quiet city, danger still potentially lurked in its shadows, so they approached the dark mouth of the underground structure with anxious vigilance. Caleb rummaged through a container in the back and pulled out a pair of thermal goggles to discern if anyone, or anything, inhabited the murky abyss. He also pulled out the weapon he had been issued just in case, besides as Giron would be busy steering it was up to Caleb to protect them both. Now they were set Giron turned the engine off and gently released the brake just enough to roll the vehicle slowly and quietly down the entrance ramp. He also turned the headlights on to full beam in order to better pierce the gloom standing before them. It seemed quite unlikely that there would be anyone down there, let alone anyone that could be a threat, but like primitive cave-men thousands of years before exploring the caverns and caves laid out in front of them, they cautiously entered.
For a hundred feet or so all they saw was a winding ramped corridor descending into the depths. They could easily see in front and behind but nothing came at them, no horror, no hideously deformed mutants or alien soldiers from beyond. Just more darkness greeted them. Eventually the slab-sided walls separated into increasingly thinner support struts revealing a wide, long parking lot topped with a low ceiling. They only thing to greet them was the stale, cold stillness of a long abandoned hollow. Giron brought the vehicle to a halt and stood up in his seat to turn on another set of lights mounted on the roll bars of the buggy. He was able to swivel these around in order to scan the chamber. Caleb did likewise with the other lamp; swinging it in an opposite arc to Giron and awkwardly tried to wear the thermal goggles over one eye despite the fact they were designed to be worn with an elasticated band around the back of the head. Failing miserably, he dropped the goggles into his seat in order to better control the lamp.
After several back-and-forth’s with the lamps, they both decided it was clear of any danger and ideal to accommodate them for the night. Giron turned the buggy around so that it was facing the exit just in case they did need to make a hasty escape. The lot itself was relatively empty, just a few cars broke up the forest of concrete pillars. The room itself was essentially a large rectangle a few hundred feet across but the length was hard to discern as it stretched off into the darkness. The ramp through which they entered was positioned towards one end of this rectangle as a round tube that pierced the ceiling with side struts that looked like the ribcage of some immense prehistoric beast.
Before long they had settled in a corner with a heat lamp, and used the cover of a large and well preserved truck to better insulate their mad shift camp from the rest of the chamber. Much like people from safer times sitting around a campfire, they huddled around the glow of the emitter and nibbled on their food rations. It actually seemed quite secure down here, away from the cold and wind above darting through the streets and thoroughfares of the stagnant city. Giron set the emitter to turn off in a couple of hours time, and before long, they both fell asleep.
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ExRannyn

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Re: The Cold of Winter short story

PostTue Oct 13, 2015 2:29 pm

and here's part 3 - all for today I'm afraid but I'll try to do the next bit soon!

ch 3
As the cloud cover cleared and the sun reached its zenith, the temperature rose to provide a much more comfortable environment. Indeed, her thick clothing was now more of a hindrance as she would get uncomfortably warm whenever she exerted herself in any way. When she took flight from the ambush a day or so earlier she took with her whatever gear she could, the weight of which all contributed to her overall fatigue. But what she took was vital if she had any hope of getting home; a few rations, various bits of survival gear and webbing plus her rifle. She abandoned the scraps of body armour that she had, as being a member of the Resistance, body armour was often makeshift and inefficient, clunky and heavy. Abandoning it seemed sensible as she was trying to avoid the enemy, not engage them. All she could do was flit between the shadows and find a path home.
She still had to move cautiously, however, as the city’s myriad buildings and their windows provided ample places for unwelcome eyes. In fact, she didn’t see the enemy that ambushed her unit so has no clue as to what they were capable of or where they were now. For all she knew they could be around the corner or through the next door. In such a situation it seemed prudent to adopt a paranoid mentality as it kept you alive, so Silene would always deliberately and carefully glance around every bend and crevice, which slowed her down but at least gave her the initiative over anyone wishing to do her harm.
She actually wanted to go back to the ambush site, maybe bury her dead comrades or salvage anything useful, but the risk was too much. She found herself in a sad daydream as the crushing weight of never seeing her friends again or not being able to conduct the correct funeral rites, bore into her soul. Her saddened expression soon hardened, turning to ambitious hatred as she vowed to take revenge on her enemy. These alien scum will pay, and it will be by her hand, even if it’s the last thing she’d do. The rage that filled her now provided a new source of vitality and focus to get home and report back to her commanders.
Her pace quickened until she stopped at an open crossroads where she knelt behind cover, exposing as little as she could as she looked around for any signs of danger. She felt like some scurrying rodent peering about so as to not become prey to one of the many predators that inhabit the wilderness. It was wise that she did, as a cross road has possible avenues of sight stretching off in almost all directions. The sun had long since hidden itself behind another dull pale cloud layer, and snow was starting to drift gently down. It must have been late evening, and she didn’t have any real way of knowing the time as the remaining wristwatches post invasion were reserved only for senior leaders and military officers, and the officer in charge of her unit was lying dead back at the ambush site.
It all looked clear and as she was about to cross she could hear the sound of an engine echoing along one of the roads. The settled snow helped muffled the echo, but it was unmistakably the sound of a vehicle rapidly approaching. She returned back to her hiding spot in order to conceal herself. Looking through a small gap in the cover, she could see the small dot in the distance getting bigger as it approach, and the high-pitched engine getting louder and louder. She could barely make it out through the ever-thickening snow, but it was clearly a human machine; some kind of scout buggy. She couldn’t quite make out its design as the flare of the headlights distorted her attempts to identify it. Panic filled her as she realised it was slowing down as it was approaching. Had it seen her? Were they going to attack? What was going to happen? Her heart beat quickened as it got closer, then it drove past her slowly and came to a stop in the middle of the road. The vehicle itself looked like it had better days and bore no markings that suggested it was from her clan. Presumably it was another human group that were scavenging the area much like her own. She found herself tightening her fingers around grip of the rifle as the driver climbed from the vehicle and took a long stretch. They hadn’t seen her after all; they were just stopping for some other reason. He was joined by a smaller man from the passenger side holding some kind of electronic device which emitted a dull green glow. The bigger of the two started bullying the smaller as they appeared to argue over the device for some reason. They both looked in all directions, indeed she had to duck deeper into the cover as they panned around past her position. She then realised what they were doing – they were lost, or at least trying to find somewhere. That device must have been a map of some kind, much more sophisticated than her paper one that was getting more and more worn and tatty each day. She spied the rear of the vehicle, a trunk of sorts that looked like it contained all manner of useful item. Food, ammo, blankets; all could help in her mission. Even the vehicle itself would allow her to reach base in a matter of hours. Her decision was made: she was going to steal it.
Driven by an ever increasing hunger and will to survive, she hesitated little in deciding to shoot them both while they debated. She pulled her rifle up to her shoulder and slowly rested the barrel on the cover. Looking down the sights she stopped for a moment; she didn’t know these people, she had no idea who they were – they may even be allies from another resistance group, or just a father and son on some sort of noble mission scavenging for food or medicine for someone else’s sake. Her compassionate side got the better of her, and she clicked the safety back and lowered her weapon. However, she still wanted that vehicle, and she had to act quickly. The strangers were both looking away from her, and seeing an opportunity she vaulted from the cover and landed softly onto the snow covered road then sprinted low but high-heeled towards the rear of the vehicle. A few feet away she quickly dropped to the floor and crawled on her belly underneath the vehicle. Turning over, he used her belt as a fasten and held on as tight as she could to the underside of the rusty buggy. Cranking her head back she could see the men’s feet move around the sides of the vehicle and disappear as they clambered back in. The engine started, and all together, they took off.
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Re: The Cold of Winter short story

PostWed Oct 14, 2015 8:31 pm

This is really good, so please do a part 4!!!
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ExRannyn

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Re: The Cold of Winter short story

PostThu Oct 15, 2015 1:20 pm

Glad you like it Deathdasher, and here's the next part:

Part 4
After a short while it appeared that the buggy’s occupants had found whatever they were looking for as the vehicle slowed down and turned off the road. Silene’s neck was aching from holding it up in order to stop it dragging on the floor or get hit by the various bit of debris the buggy had been bouncing over. Her hands were also hurting, as gripping the hot underside of the vehicle had burnt her wherever her skin was close to the metalwork. Luckily the sound of the belligerent engine had masked her occasional yelp or cursing. She craned her head back and looked around, giving her an upside down view of the world that dizzied her senses. She could tell they were now rolling down a curving ramp, but she was not sure where they were as the uncomfortable, to say the least, ride had caused her to loss any sense of orientation. Curiously the engine was off and they were rolling quite slowly, suggesting a stealthy approach to wherever they were going. Perhaps this was not a base of theirs, but like her the night before, were looking for somewhere safe to hold out during the increasingly intense snow storm.
This would be a great opportunity to take the vehicle without any need to confront these two. She decided that she would wait for them to fall asleep, then drive away with the vehicle without a single precious shot being fired. Reaching around to her belt buckle, she unfastened it from the underside of the vehicle and gently used what strength she had left to lower herself to the floor. The vehicle continued rolling but she laid as still as she could, as her temporary travelling companions had their attentions focussed to the front of the vehicle, which continued around the circular ramp and out of sight.
Feeling the cold hard floor suddenly felt like paradise as her tort muscles relaxed for a moment now that they were free of their commands to hold on for dear life. The light dimmed as the vehicle got further and further away. She was exhausted, and wanted to sleep there and then, but she reminded herself of her mission and rationalised the need to keep an awareness of where the buggy was. She had no time to relax; she had to follow them, so she rolled onto her side as best she could, stood upright and silently crept after them.
Like a prowling hunter stalking its prey, she always ensured she would always keep as best she could to the inky blackness that swallowed the buggy’s wake. After a short distance they appeared to reach an exit where they came to a stop. Another lamp came on as both of them looked around for any signs of danger. Certainly they must be far from home, she thought, as she realised they were just as vulnerable as she was out here. She had to dart quickly behind a concrete post that was her only cover on the ramp as one of the beams scanned back in her direction. She held her breath and brought her gear as tight into her as she could in an attempt to describe the vertical shape of the stone column. It passed without stopping, then came back again as the occupant must have reached the furthest that the lamp would turn in its mounting.
As she was swallowed by darkness once again, she waited patiently for the next moment to advance on the group. The engine started in order to give the riders enough movement to find a place to park, the echoing roar of the engine enough to mask any sound she made as she moved. Her exhausted muscles protested her attempts to quickly dart from one piece of cover to another. Once she got her breath back, she peered over the top of the car she was resting against in order to better eye her quarry. They turned the vehicle completely around so that it was facing the ramp they came down, presumably for easy escape in the event of an attack. Good for her thought as this would allow her a quick getaway once she started the engines and alerted them to her thievery.
She waited and watched as they found themselves somewhere sheltered to bed in for the night, which was against the wall a few metres away from the buggy itself. Again this worked in her favour as it meant they would have little warning once she started the vehicle. She found her pace quickened as she approached the buggy and with little concern for her stealth she vaulted into the driver’s seat, placed her gear in the passenger seat and enthusiastically grabbed the steering wheel before realising that these older models required a small metallic ‘key’ to operate. Cursing through gritted teeth, she turned in her seat to look over her shoulder at the two men lying still around a heat lamp. She reached into the passenger seat and pulled her rifle away as she climbed back out of the vehicle.
Resuming her stealthy approach she gripped the rifle and moved slowly towards the two men. As she got closer she pulled the rifle into her shoulder and pointed it at them. She didn’t intend to fire the weapon unless she had no choice, but these were dangerous times and everyone must be assumed to be threat first. Before long she was looming over them, they had not detected her and it crossed her mind how powerful she was, as at any moment she could end them, but she reminded herself that they might not be a threat, they might just be looking to survive like she was. A quick glance didn’t reveal the location of the key, so she would have to search them somehow without waking them. Bending her knees to crouch lower to the larger of the two, she held the rifle in one hand as best she could whilst using her other hand to gently open the man’s front left trouser pocket. Fortunately the man’s trousers were quite baggy so didn’t rustle or tug as she pushed her hand inside. She squinted as she held her breath in an attempt to avoid any tells giving her away.
She felt a small cold piece of metal that she thought it must be the key, letting out a soft sigh of relief, then lifted it gently from inside the pocket. She felt her facial muscles frown from the tension as she kept looking back and forth at the man’s face for any sign of him noticing her. She got the key out and clear from the pocket. Pulling it closer to her she was interrupted by the unmistakable ‘click’ of a pistol hammer being cocked back as the other man pointed a wide barreled and rather intimidating revolver directly at her.
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Re: The Cold of Winter short story

PostFri Oct 16, 2015 4:34 pm

Cool cliffhanger!
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Re: The Cold of Winter short story

PostFri Oct 23, 2015 11:35 am

Really great stuff mate - very cool (no pun intended) and atmospheric! Looking forward to the next bit :)
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ExRannyn

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Re: The Cold of Winter short story

PostMon Oct 26, 2015 10:59 am

Thanks Amnesia, appreciate the support! and here's part 5:

Caleb was struggling to get to sleep. Despite the many times he had slept out in the wilderness he could never quite get comfortable away from his cot back home. Even when he would visit or be sent to another settlement that would welcome him and Giron, he still couldn’t get a good night’s rest. He reasoned that’s why he often nodded off when on patrol in the buggy. He also realised that thinking about it made him even more awake where his thoughts ran away with him, stimulating his mind even further. Giron’s snoring didn’t help either. Caleb was jealous of Giron’s ability to fall asleep no matter where they were. With a single open eye he found himself judging Giron’s appearance, the big oaf had his mouth open, his top lip barely covering his teeth as each snore reverberated through his lips in time with the steady inflating and deflating of his rotund belly.
Turning onto his left side he looked at the heat lamp, staring into the warm red glow it emitted like someone would stare hypnotically at a flame, and gradually his eyes become drowsy and tired. Just as his eyes were closed he could hear a series of very faint rustling noises on the hard concrete floor. Without opening his eyes he thought it was just Giron tossing and turning in his sleep. He slowly opened one drowsy eye to see it was a figure crouching over Giron with one hand in his pocket, and in the other a short, stubby rifle. He dared not move, but just kept his eye on the intruder and tried to figure out what was going on. It dawned on him whoever it was was after the key that Giron had put in that pocket earlier. Who were they? Where they here for the buggy? Where did they come from? Were there any others? All these questions and more ran through his mind in an instant as his survival instincts kicked in to try and assess the threat and what was happening. He slowly reached his right arm around behind him and pulled his revolver out, then pointed it the individual. As the figure started to move away with the key, he cocked the hammer, and then the figure turned his head towards him and locked it’s eyes with the end of the pistol muzzle.
Caleb found his hand shaking under a mix of nervousness and the weight of the pistol on his extended arm. The long silence was finally broken when Caleb spoke. “Who are you?” he said, trying to put on his best assertive voice despite his youth and inexperience. The figure responded only with a wide eyed stare. With a little more courage Caleb gestured at the keys in the figure’s hand and said “Throw the key over here...now!” The figure dropped the keys deliberately on the floor nearby instead, but used the opportunity as a distraction to pull their rifle round to aim back at Caleb. Giron, however, was awake and quickly realised what was happening. He interrupted the stalemate by reaching around and yanking the figure’s ankle forward and upward, causing them to fall over backwards. A shot rang out and ricocheted from the ceiling as the figure, startled by the assault, fired the rifle as they fell back onto the floor. Landing hard on their back and with a distinctly female grunt the figure dropped their weapon. In an attempt to gain the upper hand Giron was on his feet and launched himself at the figure to grapple them down to the floor. However, with skilled and precise movements the figure used their momentum to roll over backwards and onto their feet whilst simultaneously drawing a knife. Crouching low, the figure backed away steadily and pointed the blade at each one of the men, darting to whoever moved towards her in turn.
“Who are you?” demanded Giron. With a gulp, the figure said “My name is Silene, and I want your buggy”.
“You want our buggy do you?!” Said Giron sarcastically. “Well you can’t ‘ave it, can you little girl!?”
“Why do you want it?” asked Caleb with a more empathetic tone. Silene’ attention was drawn instantly to the more friendly of the two and her body posture lessened in its ferocity as she considered the possibility that they may not have to come to blows after all. Giron, however, noticed that he couldn’t feel the weight of the key in his pocket and quickly rummaged around for it. Not sharing Caleb’s concern, and realising that the Silene must have the key, his facial expression quickly turned to grim determination and gritted teeth as he launched himself at her in her vulnerable moment. Before she could react he was on her, grabbing her around the waist and head down, using his much heavier frame to slam her into the ground. Silene felt the wind knocked out of her as he gave no quarter and was temporarily stunned her. Before she knew it he had grabbed her wrist that was holding the knife and repeatedly bashed it into the ground above her head. Meanwhile, his other hand was suddenly around her throat and was attempting to keep the air from coming back to her lungs, starving her of precious oxygen to fight back with. She coughed hard until her tongue was protruding from her mouth as she tried to focus on wrestling her blade back from him. She pulled her blood shot eyes back to his and pulled her other hand to thumb his left eye. He yelped in agony and rolled sideways off her, providing her the opportunity to clamber onto him with whatever strength she had left. Through her blurred vision she held the knife to his throat to force his capitulation; otherwise she would not hesitate in killing him. A second passed and he didn’t stop struggling and just as she made the decision to push the knife into him Caleb reached his spindly arm around her neck and pulled her off Giron. Adrenaline infused victory turned to dread and fear as she realised she was doomed.
Giron stood up, still holding his wounded eye and spat on the floor. She struggled under Caleb’s grip but the boy held on as tight as he could, even though he himself wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation. Giron paced up and down and watched his prey meticulously.
It was then that they all heard a sloughing, scrapping sound coming from further into the parking lot. Their scuffle and presumably the gunshot had attracted the attention of something else that had made this artificial cave its home...
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Re: The Cold of Winter short story

PostTue Oct 27, 2015 6:29 am

Awesome!!! Now do part 6.
One of the youngest and worst dzc players around.
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