Post by Crushter on Dec 17, 2008 11:42:46 GMT -5
((This will be a place for a multitude of short stories of Wasteland esque stories. Comments are welcome. The format follows:
Story 1: A Human wandering the Wastes
Story 2: A Mutant commander
Story 3: -ERROR-))
Story 1: Evan Oprichnik || Chapter 1: The Church and the Clergy
The wind whipped my long, tattered overcoat into a frenzy, sending the flaps around me. The gas mask on my face made a little "Kssh..pshh" noise with every breath I took. The mask didn't fit my head, and the plastic and metal stabbed my face and gave me small claustrophobic attacks, but, the things were necessary. The One Minute War had contaminated our planet. The air, unfiltered, burned your throat and lungs, made your eyes water, and prickled your skin.
I sighed and took slow, resigned steps down the stairs to a blown out building. A door creaked as a burst of wind caused it to test it's one good hinge. I continued my walk through the once pretentious office building. Surely rich men in the past worked here, made important decisions here, changed lives.
But, that wasn't important now.
I passed a conference room with only one wall and looked down from the forty-second floor of the building. The sign on the outside said Thailson Inc., Changing the World! Hmf. The world's changed alright.
I ran a finger through the heavy layer of dust on the long blackened wood table in the center of the room, leaving a steak.
With a sudden burst of creativity, I scrawled my name into the dust.
I looked up, and stared at the multitude of scorched bones that sat at the table. Their once expensive suits now shredded with age.
"Pss..Kffshh" I wheezed and continued with my walk. I found a fire escape soon enough and strolled downward, eventually reaching the first floor. I stepped over the corpse of a raider which decided to make a home here, his life-blood oozing from the large hole in his head.
My Pre-War rifle clacked on the drywall of the building when I rested.
I stepped out into the street, avoiding the potholes and rusted metal wreckage of cars. One bump could cause radiation to create a reaction and blow you into Hell.
Well, a worse Hell than this one.
My heavy, slow feet, clad in steel toed boots clacked on the crusted pavement, and echoed off the empty buildings.
I walked on. And on. And on.
As I did every day.
The last time I slept was two months ago. I think I'm an insomniac. I probably need medicine. Or a bullet to the brain.
I was in the countryside now. Skeletal remnants of trees stood as gravestones for the world. I spotted a church in the distance. I turned West towards the Church. I thought to myself, "What could it hurt?"
The sign next to the cobblestone path to the Church said, "St. Marks". The building stood oppressively, it's white paint now covered in soot, causing it to look like a Necropolis. I stepped around the one standing, massive door and walked inside. To my left, the ceiling covered the floor, the masonry crushing the pews. To my amazement, there were no corpses in the building.
On the right, astonishingly, the stained glass was intact. A scene depicting a group of pious men prayed to an individual.
I sighed, and strolled to the altar.
((I RETURN))
My hands rested on the dusty altar, and I cleaned the white marble. I stared for a long time, memories that I could not grasp, but could feel them, waiting there to be remembered.
I was so lost in thought, that I did not realize that there was soon a priest behind me, .44 revolver drawn to the back of my head. I heard the hammer pull back.
"My son, you have tresspassed on God's holy sanction, his one true church that stands through hell when it arrives on Earth." The preist's voice was straned, he obviously did not take precautions to the radiation.
I did not say anything, but sat quietly. For a moment, nothing happened. Wind whished through the openings, and tossed dust up outside. The sun, as blocked out as it was, sill poked it's searing head out. I breathed in and out, making a continious wheezing noise.
"Psshnn..Kffshhh.. Pss.. skcssshh.."
I could feel the revolver shift as the priest guestured. "You infidel! You defile this holy place, be you a son of god, you still filthen his name and his home!"
I spun around, and grabbed the man's arm, and quickly twisted it, sending a lound, echoing snap through out the church.
He screamed and dropped the revolver as he held his arm. The man's eyes looked watered, and gray, as if he drank constantly. His skin was pale, with splotches of black disease on his skin. It was withered and wrinkley. I stooped and retrived the pistol.
The man moaned, and he charged at me, screaming incomprehensible sayings at me. I raised the revolver, and fired.
The 44. shot shredded the left side of his face, sending pieces of flesh, skull, and grey matter to splatter down the aisle. His frail body twisted, and crumpled to the ground. From the man I looted twenty-six more rounds, and filled the missing shot.
I slipped my newfound revolver in my pocket of my trench coat. I shuffled to a pew, and went to my knees.
I prayed.
I prayed until night fell, and then I slept.
((END OF CHAPTER ONE))
Story 1: A Human wandering the Wastes
Story 2: A Mutant commander
Story 3: -ERROR-))
Story 1: Evan Oprichnik || Chapter 1: The Church and the Clergy
The wind whipped my long, tattered overcoat into a frenzy, sending the flaps around me. The gas mask on my face made a little "Kssh..pshh" noise with every breath I took. The mask didn't fit my head, and the plastic and metal stabbed my face and gave me small claustrophobic attacks, but, the things were necessary. The One Minute War had contaminated our planet. The air, unfiltered, burned your throat and lungs, made your eyes water, and prickled your skin.
I sighed and took slow, resigned steps down the stairs to a blown out building. A door creaked as a burst of wind caused it to test it's one good hinge. I continued my walk through the once pretentious office building. Surely rich men in the past worked here, made important decisions here, changed lives.
But, that wasn't important now.
I passed a conference room with only one wall and looked down from the forty-second floor of the building. The sign on the outside said Thailson Inc., Changing the World! Hmf. The world's changed alright.
I ran a finger through the heavy layer of dust on the long blackened wood table in the center of the room, leaving a steak.
With a sudden burst of creativity, I scrawled my name into the dust.
I looked up, and stared at the multitude of scorched bones that sat at the table. Their once expensive suits now shredded with age.
"Pss..Kffshh" I wheezed and continued with my walk. I found a fire escape soon enough and strolled downward, eventually reaching the first floor. I stepped over the corpse of a raider which decided to make a home here, his life-blood oozing from the large hole in his head.
My Pre-War rifle clacked on the drywall of the building when I rested.
I stepped out into the street, avoiding the potholes and rusted metal wreckage of cars. One bump could cause radiation to create a reaction and blow you into Hell.
Well, a worse Hell than this one.
My heavy, slow feet, clad in steel toed boots clacked on the crusted pavement, and echoed off the empty buildings.
I walked on. And on. And on.
As I did every day.
The last time I slept was two months ago. I think I'm an insomniac. I probably need medicine. Or a bullet to the brain.
I was in the countryside now. Skeletal remnants of trees stood as gravestones for the world. I spotted a church in the distance. I turned West towards the Church. I thought to myself, "What could it hurt?"
The sign next to the cobblestone path to the Church said, "St. Marks". The building stood oppressively, it's white paint now covered in soot, causing it to look like a Necropolis. I stepped around the one standing, massive door and walked inside. To my left, the ceiling covered the floor, the masonry crushing the pews. To my amazement, there were no corpses in the building.
On the right, astonishingly, the stained glass was intact. A scene depicting a group of pious men prayed to an individual.
I sighed, and strolled to the altar.
((I RETURN))
My hands rested on the dusty altar, and I cleaned the white marble. I stared for a long time, memories that I could not grasp, but could feel them, waiting there to be remembered.
I was so lost in thought, that I did not realize that there was soon a priest behind me, .44 revolver drawn to the back of my head. I heard the hammer pull back.
"My son, you have tresspassed on God's holy sanction, his one true church that stands through hell when it arrives on Earth." The preist's voice was straned, he obviously did not take precautions to the radiation.
I did not say anything, but sat quietly. For a moment, nothing happened. Wind whished through the openings, and tossed dust up outside. The sun, as blocked out as it was, sill poked it's searing head out. I breathed in and out, making a continious wheezing noise.
"Psshnn..Kffshhh.. Pss.. skcssshh.."
I could feel the revolver shift as the priest guestured. "You infidel! You defile this holy place, be you a son of god, you still filthen his name and his home!"
I spun around, and grabbed the man's arm, and quickly twisted it, sending a lound, echoing snap through out the church.
He screamed and dropped the revolver as he held his arm. The man's eyes looked watered, and gray, as if he drank constantly. His skin was pale, with splotches of black disease on his skin. It was withered and wrinkley. I stooped and retrived the pistol.
The man moaned, and he charged at me, screaming incomprehensible sayings at me. I raised the revolver, and fired.
The 44. shot shredded the left side of his face, sending pieces of flesh, skull, and grey matter to splatter down the aisle. His frail body twisted, and crumpled to the ground. From the man I looted twenty-six more rounds, and filled the missing shot.
I slipped my newfound revolver in my pocket of my trench coat. I shuffled to a pew, and went to my knees.
I prayed.
I prayed until night fell, and then I slept.
((END OF CHAPTER ONE))
