Exhibit A
I spasmed, and stood up in a rush of movement. Wiping the sticky mess off my leg, I dry retched, then spat on the rubble. Mental note: not the surgeon type either. A cough arose from behind the pile, and my head shot up. Picking up a sturdy beam, I wielded it experimentally. It felt solid, even if it was covered with splinters. I worked myself up: ‘It’s okay, Joel. Just go around the corner and see who it is.’ It came as somewhat of a surprise, then, when in the middle of my personal pep talk, a small black object was tossed over the pile and hit me in the head.
‘Ow,’ I squeaked, but then midway through tried to pretend that I didn’t by coughing loudly in a low manly voice. In a further attempt to cover up the general wussy-ness of the exclamation, I launched straight into a brave ‘Who’s there?’ In true B-movie style, no one replied. I stumbled over the shifting bricks and slid around the central pile. There, in front of me, was a corpse covered in yellow blood. He had shock white hair, and ice blue eyes, which were dribbling a dark fluid. If his health report were presented to a teacher, they’d write a big, fat, red F on it. Thankfully, before I was sick again, my eyes were dragged away from him to a D-grade body. He looked more alive than exhibit A. The fact that he was talking reinforced my assumption.
‘Where is it?’ said the man, his eyes glinting wildly. His breath was labouring, and it was obvious he was dying.
‘Where’s what?’ I replied.
‘The Shifter.’ You could practically hear the capital.
‘The what?’
‘The black thing. You squeaked.’
‘I…I did not. You...’ I paused, and then stormed off, mentally cursing myself. I retrieved the offending object from the rubble, and threw it at the man’s feet.
‘Who are you? What did you do to my house?’
‘...holder. Not me. Him.’ His breathing was ragged, and he seemed distant. Each reply took time.
‘The holder did this?’
‘Take this.’ He twisted the black box, like a Rubix Cube, and then pushed it into my hands.
I stumbled backwards; there was surprising force behind his shove. The silence of the neighbourhood was suddenly broken, with an unnatural rushing and buzzing sound that grew in volume until my ears shook. My vision became patchy, with black spots appearing in front of my eyes, as if I’d stood up too quickly after lying down. Blood rushed to my head. My head rushed to the ground.
‘Ow,’ I squeaked, but then midway through tried to pretend that I didn’t by coughing loudly in a low manly voice. In a further attempt to cover up the general wussy-ness of the exclamation, I launched straight into a brave ‘Who’s there?’ In true B-movie style, no one replied. I stumbled over the shifting bricks and slid around the central pile. There, in front of me, was a corpse covered in yellow blood. He had shock white hair, and ice blue eyes, which were dribbling a dark fluid. If his health report were presented to a teacher, they’d write a big, fat, red F on it. Thankfully, before I was sick again, my eyes were dragged away from him to a D-grade body. He looked more alive than exhibit A. The fact that he was talking reinforced my assumption.
‘Where is it?’ said the man, his eyes glinting wildly. His breath was labouring, and it was obvious he was dying.
‘Where’s what?’ I replied.
‘The Shifter.’ You could practically hear the capital.
‘The what?’
‘The black thing. You squeaked.’
‘I…I did not. You...’ I paused, and then stormed off, mentally cursing myself. I retrieved the offending object from the rubble, and threw it at the man’s feet.
‘Who are you? What did you do to my house?’
‘...holder. Not me. Him.’ His breathing was ragged, and he seemed distant. Each reply took time.
‘The holder did this?’
‘Take this.’ He twisted the black box, like a Rubix Cube, and then pushed it into my hands.
I stumbled backwards; there was surprising force behind his shove. The silence of the neighbourhood was suddenly broken, with an unnatural rushing and buzzing sound that grew in volume until my ears shook. My vision became patchy, with black spots appearing in front of my eyes, as if I’d stood up too quickly after lying down. Blood rushed to my head. My head rushed to the ground.
3 Comments:
Wow! I've never seen so many thumbs!
By nshady, at 6:53 PM
Nice. I think it flows well and leaves things open. 43 thumbs up.
By Anonymous, at 6:53 PM
It did it again.
By nshady, at 6:53 PM
Post a Comment
<< Home