Orombur's Home For Extremely Short Stories

[Orombur]

((That's right, I changed it. The reason being this: I have many extremely short stories that I write when I need to get my creative juices flowing. I'm sure there are others on this site who do too. Feel free to post any of yours here, and you will get feedback from me, and probably others too. Guaranteed feedback from me at least.))

Show Them No Pain, Show Them No Fear

The bell had chimed. His time had run out.

Show them no pain. Show them no fear.Evero had lived by that credo, the credo of the mercenary. Would he now die by it?

The guard threw open the cell door. Evero stepped through without a word. Show them no pain. Show them no fear.

The gallows. A place of death. A place of ghosts. It was Evero's time to join them.

The priest. Speaking, but Evero wasn't listening. "And may God be with you." But Evero knew. There was no God with him that day. There would never be a God with him.

The hooded man. Playing the persona of Death. Evero laughed to himself in his head. This man was not Death. Evero was closer to Death than he would ever be.

The rope. The hooded man had tightened it to the point that Evero thought he would die before the fall. It may as well have been fire that they placed around his neck.

The onlookers. Faces of innocents. Of not-so-innocents. Guards. Children. All waiting for the main attraction.

The fall. Agonizingly slow. Evero just wanted it to be over. He wanted to meet Death. His equal.

Show them no pain. Show them no fear.

[Orombur]

((Nobody wants to comment? ))

[The Timeless One]

((Is that the story? It's good!))

[Orombur]

((Yep, that's the story. Thanks!))

[Eliphas]

It's a little short, even for a short story. Still good.

[Orombur]

((All right, here's another one. Enjoy. Feedback is welcomed.))

We Are The Weapons

It was dark. I expected that though. It was always dark when we were needed.

My fellow soldiers surrounded me. Each of us had our own mission. Once we were called upon, nothing would stop us. Our thoughts were the same. Complete the mission. That was all we were needed for.

I heard the sound of an explosion in the distance. It would have been ear-shattering if it were not for my confines. Was it time to go?

Yes. The signal had been sent. I left my confines. It was time to complete the mission.

My aim was good. I could feel the others around me as we raced towards the target.

Victory. The others raced past the target. But my aim was true. There was an explosion of red and the target dropped. My mission was complete.

I was still embedded in the target's chest as he fell. I fell with him. I was just as forgotten, never to be remembered as even an afterthought by the man who had fired me.

But I knew it would end this way. It happened with all bullets. My service was complete.

[coorash]

Pretty good. In that second one, you might want to change "I was still embedded in the target's chest ass" to "I was still embedded in the target's chest as". Just, you know, caught my attention >.>

Pretty good though. And creative, I never would have thought of a short story from the bullet's point of view.

[Orombur]

Sept 5, 2008 10:17:10 GMT -5 @coorash said:

Pretty good. In that second one, you might want to change "I was still embedded in the target's chest ass" to "I was still embedded in the target's chest as". Just, you know, caught my attention >.>

Pretty good though. And creative, I never would have thought of a short story from the bullet's point of view.

Well, I could have meant it that way... >.>

Thanks for catching that one. Bad typo on my part. My inner critic actually finds We Are The Weapons an acceptable piece of writing, which is amazing because it usually tears up anything I write.

[coorash]

My inner critic sleeps at night.

It's why I only write when it's dark.