Post by Bloodeye the Bai Ze on Nov 5, 2010 22:46:12 GMT -5
Well, boys, girls,... and Sepheron, here's what I got so far. Having a little trouble at the beginning. Hopefully it'll all come together as I keep going:
REDEMPTION
(crap name. Will change)
Sundown.
The desert bluffs were painted crisp orange and gold as the light of day began to fade. Just as summer became winter, so did day turn to night in the wastes. From burning heat to frozen cold. Sundown was the fall. It was a time different from everything else. In the morning, the sun rose to bring life to the arid rocks and scrub. But sundown was... depressing.
Saddening... maddening.
Where winter was like a corpse, it's beauty shown over the cold death and promised something next. New beginnings and new lives.
But fall... he hated fall. And he hated sundown.
It wasn't dead. It was dying. That utterly pitiful state between the spark of life and the serenity of demise. Though its colors were bright, it was nothing but a brief smile on the face of someone in suffering. Not a smile of peace, but a smile of longing. Thinking back to the warmth of life and it's happiness. To the approaching quiet and dim. Stuck there, between the two, was a terrible feeling.
He knew that better than most... that feeling of total loss, of undesirable, yet undiminished want.
Sundown. It reminded him of the first time he died. Of... the life he led before.
The pages of a Bible flicked as it sat open in his hand as the cooling air breezed by. The print was small, unfairly so for a book of salvation. But, humility was a grace of God, and even a book can be humble from time to time. It didn't matter though. His mind was locked on his past.
The sounds of gunfire rang as loud as the day he pulled the trigger.
The echoes of screams of pain and anguish as he emptied round after round into innocents.
It was hard to suppress the ever-looming sneer. The smell of flesh that had high-velocity bullets tear through, searing the meat like a torch. The metallic taste of blood.
The Bible hit the ground with a heavy thud. Sand and dust kicked up from the pages, creating a small cloud that hung in the cooling air for some time. The sound was enough to snap him momentarily out of his dreaming and reality came back.
"What year is it?!" he gasped, his daydream so real he actually believed it to be a different time.
He pulled at a silver chain hanging from the chest pocket of his reddish-brown longcoat. A small disk-like object feel into his hands and he opened it. An ethereal blue glow was produced from the pocket-watch as it shone a screen into the cooling air:
"1873," he repeated with a sigh of total relief. "1873. The war is still over."
A cold sweat dripped down the side of his face as he reached down and picked up the Bible. The fainting light lay across the burgundy and gold almost approvingly as he turned it over and skimmed along where it had opened from the fall.
"Psalm 23," he read, noticing the slight groan in the air. "The Lord is most prophetic and kind."
He cleared his throat, eyes hard on the page before him.
"The Lord is my Sheperd; I shall not want." he began, the groan becoming louder.
His hand drifted down to his side.
"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside still waters," he continued as his free hand pulled at the edge os his coat slowly. "He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name' sake."
His hand reached into a gunbelt and took hold of the curved handle of his weapon.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."
The gun was pulled quickly, spinning on his finger like a top before coming to stop before the lucid green horror.
The slathering ghoul, it's once human eyes tinted green and murky from it's condition, stared browling at the pice in the man's hand. Bits of green, furry lichen grew out of it's skin here and there, like a longhaired cat that had gone toe to toe with a pair of clippers and a can of pine paint. It was intelligent enough to know the weapon, but not enough so to comprehend the significance or the will behind it. It just stared slackjawed, it's mouth moving but with no sound but it's huskish murmur.
The hammer on the gun was thrown back with a loud click.
"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."
The creature let out a gurgling wail at the man, intent on ripping into his viscera with it's knife-like teeth. Instead, however, all it got was a full-size round from a railrevolver through it's forehead. What was left of the brain matter flew in all directions as the bullet ripped it's way through the skull. The shot was so close that the plasma discharge following the trail of the bullet hit with actual concussive force and heat. The head flew apart like a charred watermelon.
The man held his gun up and gave it a few quick spins before settling it back in it's home at his belt. Once his weapon was safely holstered, his hand went up to the priest collar at his neck.
"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me for all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever."
He rubbed his collar for a bit before whispering "Amen."
The Reverend turned his attention back down at the monster he had just slain. His eyes weren't full of fear or anger.
Just... pity.
"You must have been desperate," he said with a bit of hidden insight. "With the sun going down, you would have had to hibernate soon. And from the look of your growths, I'd say you hadn't had a... meal... in a long time."
He tipped his hat at the beast's broken corpse. "Pity. Real shame. But, God made the world and all things in it. And in the end, all things kill each other. The only thing separating us is that God willed it not to be my time... and willed it to be yours."there wasn't anything dii
He turned away as the sun finally dipped down into darkness. Now it was safe. The risen dead didn't travel at night. No sunlight to fuel photosynthesis. They hibernated until the sun rose again, to begin yet another day of hunting and killing.
As he walked, he looked up at the stars now filling the sky.
"I do have one question though Lord:" he asked bitterly at the heavens, hoping beyon hoe to get a responce.
"... Why spare me at all?"
REDEMPTION
(crap name. Will change)
Sundown.
The desert bluffs were painted crisp orange and gold as the light of day began to fade. Just as summer became winter, so did day turn to night in the wastes. From burning heat to frozen cold. Sundown was the fall. It was a time different from everything else. In the morning, the sun rose to bring life to the arid rocks and scrub. But sundown was... depressing.
Saddening... maddening.
Where winter was like a corpse, it's beauty shown over the cold death and promised something next. New beginnings and new lives.
But fall... he hated fall. And he hated sundown.
It wasn't dead. It was dying. That utterly pitiful state between the spark of life and the serenity of demise. Though its colors were bright, it was nothing but a brief smile on the face of someone in suffering. Not a smile of peace, but a smile of longing. Thinking back to the warmth of life and it's happiness. To the approaching quiet and dim. Stuck there, between the two, was a terrible feeling.
He knew that better than most... that feeling of total loss, of undesirable, yet undiminished want.
Sundown. It reminded him of the first time he died. Of... the life he led before.
The pages of a Bible flicked as it sat open in his hand as the cooling air breezed by. The print was small, unfairly so for a book of salvation. But, humility was a grace of God, and even a book can be humble from time to time. It didn't matter though. His mind was locked on his past.
The sounds of gunfire rang as loud as the day he pulled the trigger.
The echoes of screams of pain and anguish as he emptied round after round into innocents.
It was hard to suppress the ever-looming sneer. The smell of flesh that had high-velocity bullets tear through, searing the meat like a torch. The metallic taste of blood.
The Bible hit the ground with a heavy thud. Sand and dust kicked up from the pages, creating a small cloud that hung in the cooling air for some time. The sound was enough to snap him momentarily out of his dreaming and reality came back.
"What year is it?!" he gasped, his daydream so real he actually believed it to be a different time.
He pulled at a silver chain hanging from the chest pocket of his reddish-brown longcoat. A small disk-like object feel into his hands and he opened it. An ethereal blue glow was produced from the pocket-watch as it shone a screen into the cooling air:
6:35 PM
October 24
1873 ASE
October 24
1873 ASE
"1873," he repeated with a sigh of total relief. "1873. The war is still over."
A cold sweat dripped down the side of his face as he reached down and picked up the Bible. The fainting light lay across the burgundy and gold almost approvingly as he turned it over and skimmed along where it had opened from the fall.
"Psalm 23," he read, noticing the slight groan in the air. "The Lord is most prophetic and kind."
He cleared his throat, eyes hard on the page before him.
"The Lord is my Sheperd; I shall not want." he began, the groan becoming louder.
His hand drifted down to his side.
"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside still waters," he continued as his free hand pulled at the edge os his coat slowly. "He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name' sake."
His hand reached into a gunbelt and took hold of the curved handle of his weapon.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."
The gun was pulled quickly, spinning on his finger like a top before coming to stop before the lucid green horror.
The slathering ghoul, it's once human eyes tinted green and murky from it's condition, stared browling at the pice in the man's hand. Bits of green, furry lichen grew out of it's skin here and there, like a longhaired cat that had gone toe to toe with a pair of clippers and a can of pine paint. It was intelligent enough to know the weapon, but not enough so to comprehend the significance or the will behind it. It just stared slackjawed, it's mouth moving but with no sound but it's huskish murmur.
The hammer on the gun was thrown back with a loud click.
"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."
The creature let out a gurgling wail at the man, intent on ripping into his viscera with it's knife-like teeth. Instead, however, all it got was a full-size round from a railrevolver through it's forehead. What was left of the brain matter flew in all directions as the bullet ripped it's way through the skull. The shot was so close that the plasma discharge following the trail of the bullet hit with actual concussive force and heat. The head flew apart like a charred watermelon.
The man held his gun up and gave it a few quick spins before settling it back in it's home at his belt. Once his weapon was safely holstered, his hand went up to the priest collar at his neck.
"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me for all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever."
He rubbed his collar for a bit before whispering "Amen."
The Reverend turned his attention back down at the monster he had just slain. His eyes weren't full of fear or anger.
Just... pity.
"You must have been desperate," he said with a bit of hidden insight. "With the sun going down, you would have had to hibernate soon. And from the look of your growths, I'd say you hadn't had a... meal... in a long time."
He tipped his hat at the beast's broken corpse. "Pity. Real shame. But, God made the world and all things in it. And in the end, all things kill each other. The only thing separating us is that God willed it not to be my time... and willed it to be yours."there wasn't anything dii
He turned away as the sun finally dipped down into darkness. Now it was safe. The risen dead didn't travel at night. No sunlight to fuel photosynthesis. They hibernated until the sun rose again, to begin yet another day of hunting and killing.
As he walked, he looked up at the stars now filling the sky.
"I do have one question though Lord:" he asked bitterly at the heavens, hoping beyon hoe to get a responce.
"... Why spare me at all?"
I really hope you continue this, it looks like it'll be good. 
