Inscription on the Crest:
Name is Patrick. Previously known as Earthbound Misfit. Just doing simple stories, trying to reach out with writing; to reach the writer inside.
Unless tagged with 'not mine', everything else posted here is my original work.
Copyright 2010-13.
Original work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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Zechs' Hub, for further miscellaneous needs.
Accident
A new opportune exercise, using an opening line written by Neil Gaiman, and using your own creative ability to finish it. Many stories lie within something so simple.
Check it out - Write as story with Neil Gaiman.
Roll on Two
A heavy switch is heard being forced into a metal circuit. The surrounding lights begin to flicker, dull to bright back to dull. Electricity had been rerouted to another point. An Officer stands at attention near a closed door along the wall to the side of a group of sitting folks.
In front, another Officer is standing in front of a seated man, strapped to a heavy wooden chair. Cables danging just above his head.
“Roll on One.”
Three Days Later…
Upon his death, it is said that it would not last. Day and night pass, his body has grown as cold as the ground - no life remained. Upon the third day, his body had vanished without any trace. Only to blindsided another by his giving hands, a comfort extended to prove it was real. Yet upon his embrace, he unleashed a plague unto Man.
Returning to life to fulfill his path, only to offer another gift in its place. It shall spread from man to man. From woman to woman. From child to child. All of human kind shall be purged of the comfort of death knowing their bodies shall not rest, only to rise once again. Vicious beasts guided only by gluttony.
Upon his rise, he gave man his gift, yet with this gift came a perverted sickness. Unknowing to Man, who accepted the gift in good faith to forever pass it from generation to generation. Only few succumb to the sickness, but the more the body grows frail, more dependent, the more the sickness emerges.
From the Dark Ages to the Black Plague. To the Witch Trials… Events triggered, in cases of Dark Ages, affected customs of battle, by this human sickness, this beast. The longer Man lived, the more he discovered, medicine, constructs, etc. Yet the more Man created, the more vulnerable he was to the sickness…
Comes to Modern Day. Society slowly falling apart at the seams as the gifts sickness re-emerged as a new threat, a new enemy to Man himself.
Of the unspoken - Left Behind.
Walking around a new and unfamiliar town, Bryce was clueless to how different this newly taken country had developed. It was similar to one over sea but not, by it’s own right. Feeling completely isolated, like usual, he continued walking around just looking at what is being constructed. Until he grew tired of it and stopped in at the only tevern around. He drake before, during his life. Mostly after his ‘incident’ in the past but the longer he lingered alive, the more drive there was to escape. Alcohol has ‘saved’ him a few times. At least with amounts of alcohol, it brings the sleep.
Taking a seat away from anyone else, he remained. Silently sitting, until he made up his mind to once again escape by the bottle. Standing up and approaching the one who could trade for drink.
