Post by Injin on Jun 1, 2011 0:01:32 GMT -5
as I said the other day, I am attempting to write two stories. Here's a stab at the futuristic one.
Prologue 1: The House
It was an average night in Thekaton. Officer Trenten was on patrol again, with his car floating along the highway. It was darker then usual, but aside from that average. A neighbor had filed a complaint with the COT(Cops of Thekaton), something about screams erupting from this old mansion from back in the colonial days. The mansion had been bought by some eccentric old man who was into religion, or so the complaint said.
“Probably invited his grandchildren to watch some scary HOLODVD, hopefully I can get this over with and get back to my break,” he muttered to himself as he approached the house. All the lights were dark in the neighborhood.
“That’s odd, this time of night always has at least one odd couple still up at this our,” he complained out loud, “Even the filer of the complaint’s house has no lights. 244 Peking Drive. Why the hell do they still have these old houses anymore? Freakin’ relics of the past they are. Who the heck even needs that much space anyways? A whole acre? Sheesh. This guy must be loaded to be able to afford this old stone piece of work.” He started to approach the house but suddenly stopped when the lights flicked back on.
“Huh. Maybe they are awake. I really hope this isn’t some elaborate prank like last time. Freakin’ teenagers and their free time,” he ranted as he quickly approached the staircase and stopped.
“Move damn it!” he screamed, waiting for the floor to levitate in order to move up to the front door. Nothing. The floor didn’t move at all, in fact. Instead, it just laid there. Unmoving. Dead.
“What type of old relic of a house doesn’t just ‘port you to the front door? Stupid citizens, thinking they can waste an officer‘s time with this shit. I better be paid extra for having to walk this much”. He lifted his legs up the steps, when one of the rows cracked and broke under his weight.
“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me! Does this old geezer have anything that was invented in the last hundred years attached to this stupid old hovel?” he said as he walked around the growing cracked floor. He meandered up to the front door and punched the door bell. Suddenly all of the lights went back out. Officer Trenten cursed as he was consumed by the darkness.
“Seriously?” he asked as he futzed with his equipment, feeling for his flashlight.
“I don’t have time for this, the Underball championship is tonight,” he complained as he began to yell to the occupants of the old mansion, “HEY! BEL MORRISSON! GET YOUR ASS TO THE FRONT DOOR! THIS IS OFFICER TRENTON OF THE COT! OPEN THE DOOR OR I SWEAR I WILL BLOW IT DOWN!”. Suddenly, the door began to slowly drag open, like one of the classic doors, instead of sideways.
“No way…” he gasped to himself, “ How old is this stupid house? Swinging doors? Non-moving sidewalks? Low power? Shit, this guy must be a cheapskate or something. That or a freakin’ moron. Or worse, a ‘spiritual’ fucker.” He walked in with his flashlight on, illuminating the house within.
“What the hell…?” the officer said as he entered the house. He saw something rush through his vision. He felt a burning sensation in his gut. He heard his own screams. Then he knew nothing.
Prologue 1: The House
It was an average night in Thekaton. Officer Trenten was on patrol again, with his car floating along the highway. It was darker then usual, but aside from that average. A neighbor had filed a complaint with the COT(Cops of Thekaton), something about screams erupting from this old mansion from back in the colonial days. The mansion had been bought by some eccentric old man who was into religion, or so the complaint said.
“Probably invited his grandchildren to watch some scary HOLODVD, hopefully I can get this over with and get back to my break,” he muttered to himself as he approached the house. All the lights were dark in the neighborhood.
“That’s odd, this time of night always has at least one odd couple still up at this our,” he complained out loud, “Even the filer of the complaint’s house has no lights. 244 Peking Drive. Why the hell do they still have these old houses anymore? Freakin’ relics of the past they are. Who the heck even needs that much space anyways? A whole acre? Sheesh. This guy must be loaded to be able to afford this old stone piece of work.” He started to approach the house but suddenly stopped when the lights flicked back on.
“Huh. Maybe they are awake. I really hope this isn’t some elaborate prank like last time. Freakin’ teenagers and their free time,” he ranted as he quickly approached the staircase and stopped.
“Move damn it!” he screamed, waiting for the floor to levitate in order to move up to the front door. Nothing. The floor didn’t move at all, in fact. Instead, it just laid there. Unmoving. Dead.
“What type of old relic of a house doesn’t just ‘port you to the front door? Stupid citizens, thinking they can waste an officer‘s time with this shit. I better be paid extra for having to walk this much”. He lifted his legs up the steps, when one of the rows cracked and broke under his weight.
“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me! Does this old geezer have anything that was invented in the last hundred years attached to this stupid old hovel?” he said as he walked around the growing cracked floor. He meandered up to the front door and punched the door bell. Suddenly all of the lights went back out. Officer Trenten cursed as he was consumed by the darkness.
“Seriously?” he asked as he futzed with his equipment, feeling for his flashlight.
“I don’t have time for this, the Underball championship is tonight,” he complained as he began to yell to the occupants of the old mansion, “HEY! BEL MORRISSON! GET YOUR ASS TO THE FRONT DOOR! THIS IS OFFICER TRENTON OF THE COT! OPEN THE DOOR OR I SWEAR I WILL BLOW IT DOWN!”. Suddenly, the door began to slowly drag open, like one of the classic doors, instead of sideways.
“No way…” he gasped to himself, “ How old is this stupid house? Swinging doors? Non-moving sidewalks? Low power? Shit, this guy must be a cheapskate or something. That or a freakin’ moron. Or worse, a ‘spiritual’ fucker.” He walked in with his flashlight on, illuminating the house within.
“What the hell…?” the officer said as he entered the house. He saw something rush through his vision. He felt a burning sensation in his gut. He heard his own screams. Then he knew nothing.