Welcome
Here you can see comic analysis or read stories by the site Author.
If you aren't seeing a new post you can reload the page by clicking the button above.
Son of mine, you are a disappointment to this family. I have fought in wars and won many battles. Your mother is acceptable in her field, serving the sick and healing the strong. Your sister has stood up to me and has seen many more battles than you ever will. Your brother might never see war but makes money as a baker, making bread and other pastries more filling than any other meal ever could. You, son of mine have tried your might in fights of money and glory. You have entered your life into a gamble of idiots who wish to fight when there is no war and the worst part is you cannot possibly stand next to the giants that drown you in their shadows. You truly have no idea what your mother has done to bring you into this world and what I have done to keep you here. You disappoint us. You take risk after risk failing each time and never learning from your pain. You are stubborn, stupid, and unable to take a hint from life. You are not fit to do what you want to do and yet you jump into a vast ocean unable to swim. Son of mine, tell me what in your head cannot understand your uselessness in what you do. You drag our name through the mud unknowing if you can even clean it. Every move you make has the king dying of laughter as you parade around as a jester pretending to be a soldier. The worst part of it all, son of mine, is you would have made a great jester had your father not been a soldier. You could have done so much had I seen your ability. Had I not pressured you to be strong like your sister or as well known as your brother. Son of mine, you’ve created a pain your mother cannot treat. Son of mine, you were never the disappointment, I was. I disappointed you and you never even knew it. I was just as stubborn as you if not more. If a man three times my size threatens me, I stand my ground as that is where I’m willing to fight and die, but there is no man I can fight here. Nothing I can do as I’ve already failed you. Son of mine, I miss you with the very weight of my soul. Every man I killed, every war I won, I’d trade it all for you. But I can’t. For once in my life I am powerless and I only have myself to blame.
0 Comments
Let’s jump straight into the action, shall we? All you need to know is My dad and I work for these guys called Grimm. We're just a high tier mercs they hired to guard a building called The Library, and you’ll never guess what they don’t hide here. Books. It’s not an actual library, but I guess they might have one or two, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, they keep stuff here. Like dangerous stuff. Including the giant laser thingy that was used on 12/12. So, the action, we are… being attacked. No idea by who but they’re clearing the facility room by room searching for us. Our orders were to guard with our lives or face consequences, so we’re running out of options.
“Hey, Jr!” My father’s withered voice draws me back to our immediate situation. “What do we do?” I say manhandling the grip of my gun. “Look you and I both know what’s gonna go down if we don’t do something so I’ll take credit for our next move.” He says. “Next move?” I repeat. “Don’t worry, it’s not a smart one” he says with a smile as he reaches for a container marked ‘Unknown Properties’ in big red lettering. “You’re crazy,” I say in a defeated sigh. “They’ll kill us!” I follow up. “That’s why I’m taking credit,” he says cracking open the box. He pulls out a lead chest and opens it finding a pamphlet and a… whatever that is. “Alien bomb?” I offer. It looks like a Christmas ornament that glows purple and blue. “Solar key.” My father says dropping the pamphlet. “It takes in solar energy and it can unlock doors. The thingy says to only give it a small amount of energy or it will do something dangerous.” I glance at it and then at him. We lock eyes and say together, “Alien bomb.” He stands up with it in hand and says, “How the hell are we gonna charge it up? We're underground.” It felt as if I was watching Dora the Explorer as my vision focuses on a shelf of plants with UV lamps just behind the man. “I got it,” I say confidently as a spark ignites on the metal door behind me. My father grabs the alien bomb™ as I fumble to grab the lamps. He lines up his shot as I light up the bomb. An immediate reaction occurs. It starts glowing a blue deeper than the ocean and it shakes like an unstoppable earthquake. My father and I know this device could transcend what we as mortals call power. My father looks at me and says, “How do we know what’s too much power and what's not enough?” Before I could speak the bomb began to float and the shelves started to shake. "Too much!" We say. It leaves my father's hands and I quickly turn off the lamps. We sprint to each side of the door as it’s knocked down by men in unmarked gear begin to charge inside but are stopped by the device. They all have this moment where they realized they are in a small hallway clumped up together and cornered by himself against something otherworldly. Its eye opens and stares them down. Heat flooded the room as screams roared from these men being cooked alive. The device drops to the floor with a clang and a faint glow. Silence consumed us. My father cautiously steps to the door frame peeking his head out and just as he catches a glimpse he jumps back in terror. “What! What is it?” I say. He turns his head to me and says, "come see for yourself." I drag my feet to take a view and see on the ground shredded meat. Completely cooked and, burnt. “Talk about a godsend.” I say still staring. “Jr, we just killed a bunch of men.” my father begins “You should’ve said barbecue.” He follows. “Dammit, you’re right.” We moved from room to room roasting baddies just as they had done to us. We made our way outside in moist darkness that welcomed our presence. What was strange was that everyone was dead and we didn’t do it. Just pieces of people ripped apart. It became apparent that someone else here had a similar trick. “I am Antonnio Rojas and I stand for Grimm, Identify yourselves or forfeit life!” a voice says bellowing from the fog. As he walks towards us we can see that he’s more wall than man. More metal too. “Holy shit, a cyborg!” I start to say as my father grabs my mouth with his hand quieting me. “Sorry. My name is Barry Docks and this is my son Barry Docks Jr. We were hired by Grimm to guard the Library.” Rojas looks around, ”You didn’t do a very good job here. My friend and I had to come and give you a hand. Although to be fair the people we usually hire can’t stand against whoever they were.” He now stands feet in front of us, his mechanical arms ticking like a clock. “So care to tell us how you survived this onslaught?” he asks. Another figure appears from the fog. A boy with blades mounted from his body almost liquid in nature and dark red like blood. “Tell us,” He says in a tone that says ‘I don’t want to be here’. “Well, w-” start but my mouth caught my father’s hand again as he takes over the conversation, “Well, my son thought it would be smart to take something from the Library and killed a bunch of guys with it. I reasoned against him using it but he wouldn’t listen.” I stand breathless. He just threw me under the bus. My eyes were wider than plates as I started two deaths in the face. I was so scared I was physically shaking. Rojas looks at me. “You can operate that thing?” he says pointing to the device under my arm and lamp in my hand. “Y-yeah,” I said practically gasping for air. My father was stiff as a tree. “Show us,” Rojas says, gesturing to my father. My horrified frown climbs its way up my face as I turn to my father as he widens his stance ready to run. “I get it now,” I say dropping the lamp lifting the device. It begins to glow with no need for a charge. Its eye opens and my father begins to bolt. The cars around begin to shake as my father's feet no longer reach the floor and the key lifts from my hands. He Screams in agony. “Dad- Berry. Berry, today was hell but now I see a path. You’re in my way and you always were.” I say. His screams fade into the void of the fog, and I hand him off to the abyss. The key gracefully lands on my hand and I turn to Rojas. He smiles at me and says, “I cannot count the number of powerful men who killed their fathers." I walk with them to Grimm as we fade into the fog. I’m not sure what’s worse. The freezing cold of the tundra or the constant state of paranoia. We are hunting a hunter, and the worst part is he knows. We are tracking a mercenary simply known as bullet-train. A big guy who’s known for his tendency not to speak, and killing people with his hands. He usually wears a large coat and a motorcycle helmet. Not much more is known except that he’s probably a bear in human clothing. He’s gotten on the wrong radar though and disappeared to Alaska. Fortunately, we are on his tail. Unfortunately, his trail is a large deer carcass that looks to be ripped open and eaten raw. “I should have brought bear traps,” I say to myself in a brief moment of hysteria and interest. I clutch my rifle closer as if it was a teddy bear in the arms of a child. I follow boot prints for a couple of miles only to find the same deer. Along with a second and third set of tracks, my own and his again. I frantically look around me closely examining every crevice this monster could be lurking in. I can’t tell if I’m shaking from the cold or the sheer idea of this guy.
I set up camp in a cave. I checked it wasn’t home of some animal and lined the entrance with a claymore. I lean on my pack holding my gun close for comfort in an attempt to become even the slightest bit comfortable. The next morning comes and I start by opening my military issued breakfast. I look out from the cave to find the claymore ripped apart. Disarmed and destroyed. I dive for my rifle, but I’m stopped by the cracking thump of a large boot breaking my arm. I look up to find my reflection in a motorcycle helmet and my body won’t even let me scream. He stares at me and picks up my rifle. He rips it in two like steel is only a five-letter word to him. He steps off my arm and picks me up. I’m helpless. Or at least that’s what he thinks. I pull my knife from my boot and stick in between his collar and helmet. Instead of a geyser of blood and a fall of a giant, I hear a groan and suddenly I’m thrown to the ground with the force of a truck. All I feel is the wet of blood-freezing instantly in contact with the snow. It all starts to fade when my own knife crashes into my chest. His fist doesn’t even fit inside the handle and he pushes it deeper cracking my ribs. All I tasted was blood but suddenly I’m drowning in it. My head fits perfectly in his hand like a golfball and he squeezes. “Let me die! Let me die!” I scream muffled by my own blood and his hand. My head collapses in on itself and all I feel is heat. A pain so deep my body cannot even register it. He leaves and I lay there, unable to move, my senses are fading one by one. The only one left is my sight. I can’t even process. I’m mindless. I’m still alive. I’m suffering. My eyes open, but something grabs me. “Stay,” It says. “You’re Safe here,” it continues. It’s warmth radiates and holds me close like a hug. Not the most comfortable hug, but the only one I have. It loves me, but I must go. “It’s fine if you don’t go. Nobody really cares whether you’re there or not.” It’s convincing, but I have things to do. “What’s the worst that will happen?” It asks. I sink deeper into its hold. It’s only a matter of time before It all passes. I want to hug it back. “Stay,” It whispers in my ear. My eyes grow heavier and my body’s strength fades. All that is left is my mind. Do I fight it and go, or do I let it win? The hug grows more comfortable. I reach for the clock to find its already too late. “You might as well stay now.” It says. I hold it close and it takes me.
I stare at the ring paralyzed. After what feels like an hour I look back up at her. Her face reeks of embarrassment as everyone stares. The Dead silence is broken by the life of a baby screaming about food or something. “Maybe a public setting wasn’t the best place for a proposal was it?” I chuckle nervously. “Listen, Julia…” She says grabbing my arm and pulling me up, “ You’re great, and I love you. What we have is amazing. Why get married.” My body shifts upward like a robot, “All of that was made sense until the last sentence.” She sighed and said, “I’m just gonna put this bluntly for you Marriage is a scam.” “A scam?!?” I have to stop myself from screaming. I collect myself and say, “Marriage is a beautiful ceremony that lets you brag about your love to your friends and family, and make them buy you expensive kitchen equipment.” She takes a sip of her water stares me down and says, “Marriage was designed to make big companies money. It’s not necessary in this world anymore and people are realizing that.” I fiddle with the ring in my hands and say, “I’ve dreamed of the perfect wedding since I was four. Lisa, weddings are necessary dammit.”
The car ride home as awkward and silent. We usually enjoy the silence, we bask in it, we are it. We are quiet people, but this was almost painful like a cup is getting really full but the person pouring water into it has no intention of stopping anytime soon, and if something doesn't stop this silence we are going to spill everywhere. “Stop the car!” I yell. We come to a screeching stop to the side of the road. My door swings open with the force of an ox and the same ox releases my lunch onto the side of the road. I wipe my sleeve across my face and I get back into the car. Lisa looks at me and asks, “Are you okay.” Instead of answering I turn the radio on and find a channel I like. I stand in the bathroom off the side of our room staring at the ring in my hand and then the sink drain. “She really doesn’t want to get married.” I mutter to myself, “Then I don’t need this.” I drop the ring and with a collection of dinks, the ring is gone forever. I unlock the door and start walking out when I hear it cry. It’s crying. The ring is crying. It’s not like a child, the sound is more like if you were to rim a metal bowl with a spoon. Two hours later I took the drain apart and retrieved the crying ring. “It’s okay, little guy. I’m sorry that I did that. Everything is going to be alright.” The crying stops and I stare at it. It stares back. Lisa snores as I lay awake. I get up and retrieve the ring from my drawer. The ring guides me to the kitchen. It guides me to the spoons. A spoon cries to me and I grab it. They guide me to Lisa. I guide the spoon. Lisa cries. The ring laughs. Part 1: Her Side
Brad, Chandler, Ben, Kevin, Jessie, Marcus, Guy after guy after guy. God, is love even real, or am I wasting my time? Is it all just some cruel joke? Should I be focusing more on my job as Daddy says or should I follow my heart to find someone who really gets me? I just broke up with David. Too sarcastic and mean. I really thought he was the one. Then again I thought every other guy was the one too. I bump into someone on the sidewalk, guess I was too much in my head again. “Sorry.” I manage to blurt as I see his face. A guy with a chiseled jaw and nose. He had hair like you wouldn’t believe. It looked so soft. And he was muscular. Like he could grab and throw me. And of all the things he was holding, he held a couple of flowers. Calla Lilies. My favorite. He stopped and said, “No it was all my fault. I was too busy reading to see where I was going.” I look down to see his book. Dragon Bound. My favorite book. My God the stars have aligned! I gawk for a second before I grow the ability to speak back, but before I do, he does for me. “My name is Max. I’m sorry if this is too forward, but you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” my jaw drops and I turn red. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls.” ‘No, just you. Here. Have these flowers, I was just going to plant them, but it’s clear they belong to you.” I take the flowers and before I knew it weeks had passed and Max and I had fallen deeply in love! I can see the wedding cards now! Jane and Max! We are perfect. He is perfect. Although it’s like he gets less and less perfect every day I know him. He does that annoying slurpping noise like Caleb did. We went to get dohnuts and he got the same order as Ben always got. Cholate with sprinkles. These kind of things just built up and up. Eventually I had to end it. It was too much and nobody could handle that. Is this God’s way of telling me I messed up? What are you trying to tell me! Where am I suppose to go with this? God, what the fuck should I do with my life? I broke it off with Max and I expected more of a reaction from him, but instead, he just sighed, gave me this look of defeat and left. Part 2: His Side Brad, Chandler, Ben, Kevin, Jessie, Marcus, Max, Guy after guy after guy. Is Jane crazy or am I just stupid? I’ve been given infinite chances to get with this girl and I can’t quite seem to get it right. I look in the mirror again. “Who will I be this time?” I ask myself out loud. I don’t even know what I did wrong last time. Was I was ‘too perfect’. My nose shifts slightly to the left and my jaw turns into an underbite. My hair practically falls out and regrows into a new thinner shade. My face goes from clean-shaven to grizzled stubble. “Kieth? Todd? Jonathan? Jonathan. This is Jonathan.” I turn away from my mirror and to my computer to make my new name official. A couple of days pass and she’s there on her afternoon walk. She again bumps into me and says, “Oh sorry, I wasn’t Paying attention.” She looks down at my now ruined shirt, stained with my single cup of coffee. “Oh no!” She cries, “I spilled your coffee, I’m so sorry!” I smile, “It’s alright, the shirt wasn’t my favorite anyway. But I'm sure you can make it up to me. Let’s get some more. I’ll even pay.” She looked at me for a second and smiled, “Sure. I’m Jane by the way.” we start walking and I say, “That’s a really nice name, I’m Jonathan.” god, I hope this is the last time. You have the power to visit and manipulate people's dreams. What do you do in them? What do you do?
I had just had a very heated argument about the future of our company with my co-owner, Justin. We had just reached a point of valuable importance in the eyes of the public, so a businessman by the name of Kyle Daniels had offered us a large amount of money for the company. I simply could never fathom selling something I put my heart and soul into. This is my dream job and I had bled, sweat, and endured for it. Justin, however, believes that we should sell it for the quick buck. I knew it was foolish going into business with such a dolt among men. Sometimes I wonder just how irradiated his gene pool is. Mr. Daniels is clearly going to buy our company, and sell it to the highest bidder at some pretentious auction of old rich white men. Some I imagine with particularly orange hair. My dream will then be destroyed and mass-manufactured to be sold as a quantity over quality product for the pedestrian consumer. Nothing in god’s creation can convince me to sell, and from how Justin is acting, he feels the same about his side. We must, however, reach some sort of consensus. I pull myself under my covers still quite peeved of earlier events, closing my eyes all I can think is of Justin and his little mind. As I drift into my slumber I find that something is off. Nothing I can quite point out until I realize that events are not quite making sense, and are not even from my point of view. Justin appears to be speaking to the barista he’s had a crush on from the beginning of time, except he isn’t wearing pants, the barista has a giraffe head and they’re no chairs in the damn place. Not until I mention it to myself. A chair more comfortable than ever appears behind my back and I instinctively sit. I suppose this is what they call a lucid dream. I have control here. It is at my command. Perhaps I should play out a few scenarios here, just to give me a little peace. How about I show Justin just how hard he’s worked for our company. Before he has time to react, the scene changes entirely. Every hardship we’ve overcome together plays like a home movie before him. With that, I’m much happier as he appears to grow nostalgic. I then show him the auction house I had imagined before and how these rich would massacre our dreams. He appears convinced and a blaring noise wakes me from the comfort of my subconscious. I tap the top of my clock to cease the jarring noises I had picked specifically to wake me up. My morning is as normal as ever until breakfast when I flip my omelet, a familiar tone rings my phone. It’s Justin. He had called to inform me of his change of mind. He spoke of all the things we did to win our company and how he wouldn’t give it up so easily. I agreed and hung up happy with him, and myself for that matter. I couldn’t explain why but I felt proud and perhaps a little responsible for his change of heart. My day had continued normally until the end of course. I had reached my apartment floor and there awaiting me was Mr. Daniels. He had approached me in front of my own home about a larger offer on the company. The audacity of this man is astounding. I, of course, reflected his every pitch and went angrily to bed. That horrid man was all I could think of as I dozed off. Funny enough I find him in a bit of his own nightmare. Mr. Daniels was speaking to some authority about how he hasn’t been able to seal the deal in the last couple of months. I appear to be in another lucid dream. Perhaps I should crank this nightmare up to eleven. It’s party time, Mr. Daniels. His bosses' faces surround him and he’s pulled into the void of the floor with demon hands at my command. I showed him my nightmares, my father, and what he did to me, except to him. I then show him my fantasies of what I could do to him if I had the chance. I show him death and pain, and it appears our connection grows further each time he attempts to escape. A familiar blaring sound had awoken me and I had felt very proud. I simply could not explain my lucid dreams until I had come across an odd article online a couple of days later: Darsney Employee of the Month, Kyle Daniels Arrested After Emotional Breakdown at Work. It had spoken of how he was panicking about my company and how they should back off from the buy. My mind runs out of answers until I come to what is probably my strangest conclusion. I am no lucid dreamer. I am a dream weaver. A master of other’s minds. It is at my command. I tested this over the course of the month wild mild changes to people’s dreams, and how that affected their lives. I started with Justin’s crush barista and painted him as a hero to her damsel in distress. I did this continuously and I found out that she's grown more affectionate to him. Something knocked at the back of my mind though. The irritating thought that it could be a coincidence. So I decided to take it away. My following dream I convinced her that Justin was some dangerous terrible man capable of her nightmares. As soon as ever Justin came to me in a panic about how the barista had simply broken up with him out of nowhere with the reason that she simply could not trust him. That confirmed it. I have anyone at my command. Only the future will tell how I use this. I could change the world if I could figure a way to command more than one person’s dreams at a time. Oh, the places I’ll go and the people I’ll change. I simply cannot wait. I start with a couple of simpletons who run a small bank close to our offices. It had taken a couple of weeks, but I convinced them all that it would be perfectly normal to take all the money and leave it in a couple of bags a few blocks away for an hour or two. I picked them up at the designated time and none were the wiser. This was proof that I can even change strong moral standards. Or could I. I cannot be sure unless I were to convince one to take a life. But surely that should be beyond anyone’s control, or at least that’s what I thought until that little knocking got louder and louder. I had to know. Tonight six people will die at the hands of a congressman and I cannot wait to see what the media makes of it. Spider-Gwen: Ghost-Spider is a short ten-issue series that takes place after the events of the Spider-Gwen Series, the Current Issues of Earth-616's The Amazing Spider-Man, and Spider-Geddon. The point of the series is to introduce the new Ghost-Spider series that takes place on Earth-616 and it touches on a few points. These points being things like Gwen Stacy changing her name to something more fitting, her relationship with Harry Osborn-65, and the current state of her powers. My Rating of the series is a 3.5 out of 5 stars. The writing is overall entertaining and the new art style is pleasing even if it doesn't entirely reflect the original comic series. It's not a story I would read again, but it kept me counting down the days until the next release. I overall recommend it.
Buy the comic here Does anyone else fantasize about murder? Not like anyone in particular. I'm sure everyone thinks about killing their annoying boss or an ex. But I mean like a stranger. Sometimes I pass someone on the road and I just think about sinking a knife in their neck. All the blood spraying on my face as I hold them in my arms. I could stare in their eyes and feel their soul leaving. Tasting their blood as it drips from my face.
Could you do it? Say there would be no consequence for taking a stranger's life. Could you do it? Would you do it just to know what it feels like? Am I any less human for lying awake at night and thinking about taking a life, or would you do it too? Of course, I would never just kill a stranger. I've been taught my whole life that it's wrong. So I just kind of wait to be provoked. It's not this moral ground I stand on to resist taking a life, but fear of the consequences that keep me afloat an ocean of sin. One of the only legal ways to kill is through the defense. Defending your self in a fight to the death. Maybe you're protecting someone so you beat their skull in with a brick or they're stealing so you grab the nearest pair of scissors and stick it in the back of their neck. There are other legal ways to kill. In war its no crime to take a life if that life threatens your own or others. As much as I lust for this feeling, I am far too much of a coward to go to a place where bullets fly and death is expected. I've asked religion if murder is ever forgiven and a similar response is given. If it is in defense. If you are truly sorry to God even if the dead deserved it. My conclusion is that if I thirst for this feeling, I will not be forgiven because I won't be sorry. As a man who fears God, if I am given the legal chance to kill do I even take it? No, I hope I don't. I fear consequence more than I fear the unknown of this cold meal. My beast will lie dormant... Unless it isn't there. If this is a normal feeling until the life is taken, will I be sorry? Does everyone know this and those who act repent? If your thirst is quenched, are you suddenly drowning? Do I dare learn? These questions cannot be answered by a coward. But I fear in my cowardice I will learn. I fear that even these fantasies are a sin equal to the act. To this fear I am sorry, I already regret, but not because I believe to be in any good state of mind, but because the consequence is too damn high of a wall for my clawless paws could ever climb. Is this what separates me from a true killer? Not the paws, but the claws. Not the dark mind, but the willingness to do act. The fearlessness in the unknown universe. I beg you to tell me, does anyone else fantasize about murder? We live in what can only be described as a prison. We live like a family, and some of us are. There are six of us. Randy, is the guy who built this place. He's a bit on the crazy side but we can't always argue because he makes that point about how right he was and how none of us would be alive if it wasn't for his bunker. Jess, my sister is probably one of the only people here with a true strand of hope. I've always been so envious about how she is so confident, no matter what. We also have this girl. She looks maybe fifteen, but she doesn't talk. God knows why, or what happened that traumatized her so much. While she is entirely mute she is kind of the reason we are so all sane. She brings a calm and wholesome attitude to the group. That's why we call her heart. Another kid is Devon, we call him Dev. He's sixteen and was gonna ride a football scholarship all through college. The kid has grit. He's willing to bite the bullet and do what nobody wants to. As selfless as he is we never let him take on all the responsibility. I count Gus as one of us because he is one of our most important members. He finds us food and warns up of danger, not to mention it helps to give his fluff a good floofing when we are down. Last but not least is yours truly. My name is Shaun. I was a medic for the military. Everybody insists on calling me doc, or med. Not a fan of those names, especially since when I introduced myself, I left out the part about how I was still in training. Luckily the most I've had to do for the group is a couple stitches here and there, but I rue the day I have to truly save someone's life. We were sitting around the Bunsen burner we cook all our cans on like every night when Randy looks up from his little pad with dull eyes, "Okay, who's been eating more than your fair ration for the last month?" "What?" Jess Chimes in, her smile fading. "Last month, I did an inventory stock and found we had enough food for the next three months. Now we only have enough food for a week. So who's been eating more?" Everyone turns to each other already judging culprits in their minds. Randy Continues, "We've been working off the honor system here, but I see now that that was a mistake. Listen, whoever did this, you've just collectively stabbed everyone here in the back, including yourself. So step forward and maybe we won't hang you!" Dev looks up already smiling, some smart ass response ready, "If you come out now, we'll only break your kneecaps." "It was you, wasn't it?" Randy snaps, "I always knew I couldn't trust you." Dev turns to me, "Is he being racist or paranoid?" Jess, steps in, "He didn't mean it like that." Gus Whines loudly and Heart starts sneaking away in an attempt to avoid the conflict. "I see you, you little bitch! You can't shy your way out of this one, I ought to teach you a les-" Before Randy could finish his thought he's cut off by a loud thunk by a weathered hand colliding with his face. "Say something else about her, I want a good reason to hit you again!" Devon shouts as I pull back on his arms. Everyone stands up and starts shouting at each other as Randy lays on the ground still confused as to what just happened. An abrupt whistle stops the cluttered voices and everyone looks at Jess, "Listen, we've all been cooped up in here for too long anyway. Maybe the lack of food is a good thing. I'm not sure what's beyond that two-inch door, but its time we get out of here." Everybody collectively shifts their attention to the door, a metal hatch at the top of a latter. The image of something being out there is too much and nobody moves an inch. "So who goes out and scavenges?" Before Dev can open his mouth Jess interrupts, "Not you. "Then who do you suggest? Schizo here? Whatever is out there he'll say zombies or the tv people." I stand up, holding back my shaking body hoping it isn't visible, "I'll go. I'll take Gus and the gun. I'm the only one who knows how to use it anyway." My sister looks at me longingly, "You may be a scardy cat, but damn it all if you aren't brave. Heart, get him a bag of Spram and the gun." Heart Rushes to the other room. Gus comes to my legs and sits as if he really knows the gravity of the situation. Heart returns with my bag and a rifle. She hands them to me along with a crumpled up note and gives me a tight hug. Randy walks up to me rubbing his cheek, "Don't die. I kind of like having a doctor on the team." Dev grabs my shoulder, "Don't take any risks out there and come back as soon as you have something. We don't want to spend too much time worrying." I push Gus outside the hatch and it closes behind us sounding louder than a shotgun. Tears are already streaming down my face and Gus rubs against my leg in an effort to quiet my fears. "Thank you," I whisper to him rubbing his ears. I open Heart's note to find it says, "Avoid the moths." It's been an hour and I've seen nothing. so far the neighborhood looks the same and I start walking towards the market. I notice salt around the foundation and think nothing of it. I walk through the entrance only to hear a click as my weight shifts. Looking down it was kind of surreal. Only a squeak escapes my mouth as I frantically look around. My boot was stretching a wire. I look around seeing that it might be my lucky day, as lucky as triggering an explosive device can be. I was on a tension detonation claymore. the moment I release the tension of the wire, I die. It's an especially sick design because it gives you a chance to survive while still alerting the trapper. I lean down pulling on the wire slowly climbing my way to the claymore. It's just out of my reach as a shotgun cocks behind my head. "Someone knows what they're doing." I turn around slowly to see a large man with a buzzcut standing above me. "You ex-military?" "I'm a doctor!" I blurt. "What?" "You shouldn't kill me, because I'm a doctor, and I can help you with that!" "What' what?" He asks as Gus digs into his leg with his teeth. He then yells in pain shifting his attention. I leap over the mine triggering it and launching hundreds of tiny metal balls into the guy's backside. Both Gus and the man fall bleeding. "With that," I say trying to get up. I can't get up. My feet are shredded and I'll quickly bleed out. Nobody won this. I lay on my back. I can already imagine the conversation between the group. Their worry holding my soul as everything shifts into darkness. Author's NoteWhen reading this story my friends asked if it exists in the same universe as Do or Die, one of them even asking specifically if it's based in the future. All I said to them was, "I don't like time travel and it would be difficult to tie things together, but I also like to think that everything I write is connected in some way. So it's really up to the reader's head-canon." I suppose I was trying to say that I wouldn't mind if they did exist in the same world, but I don't want to make the world of Do or Die more complicated my self, so if someone wants to Cow Tools everything, go for it.
|
Dee
I'm a writer, artist, and comic enthusiast. Archives
September 2020
Categories
|