Category: My Writing.

Please find within this category full short stories or parts of longer stories. All comments are welcome. Note: If said comments turn out to be abusive or anything like that, they’ll be deleted.

Keeping on with this break thing…

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Hello

This self imposed writing break of mine is working out quite well. I like having not much else to do other than watch TV or play on my Xbox. It also helps having Christmas to distract me as well. I’ve pretty much bought all the presents I want to buy for my nearest and dearest and only have a few more things to buy. I’m even more organised than I was last year. Big smiles about that, I thought I’d be worse.

But, with all the thoughts about Christmas and all things in that area taking up most of my head space, those lovable writing thoughts keep floating to the surface.

I’ve been making notes as I usually do when this happens and the few notes I’ve made over the past week have been about a story I finished a few years ago and did a small amount of editing on. I was hoping to start editing the NaNoWriMo story I wrote last year but now I’m thinking of editing a the one from a few years ago. Or maybe another one. Or write a new one. As dilemma’s go, it’s not so bad really.

Ok, I’m going to get back to my break. Hope all your writing is going well and your enjoying your December so far.

Good Pie

Taking a break. Well, only a little.

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Hello again

After the awesomeness that was nanowrimo, I’m going to do what I did last year and take a break from writing any stories. I found that doing this and coming back to writing my stories after a month off, really revitalised me. I got straight back into it so I’m thinking, why break a successful formula?

Because it could be better, that is why.

In my month off, I’m planning on getting back into writing on this here blog and to reading more stories on the websites I’ve neglected over the past few months. I think it will be a good change of pace and although I do and always will like to write, I think my back and my mind will benefit from it. Because….

My mind can rest and take in others work and help to get it back into sharp and creative condition heading into 2014.
My back will love it as I tend to hunch over my laptop as I write and cause it to hurt.

Anyway, I’m going to get started on my grand plan but before I go for now, just one more thing,
image

This was my set up for when I completed nanowrimo. And I ask of it applies to you…how did you prepare for and get on with your nanowrimo?

Bye bye

The reason I’ve been so quiet (if you noticed that is)

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Hello

Just a quick one, I’ve completed NaNoWriMo for the second year in a row! I’m really happy and have ordered a t-shirt to celebrate. Its a bit geeky but it also contributes to this brilliant challenge and helps to keep it running.

So, here is a synopsis of the story I have possibly given myself a back problem partly writing;

My novel, which isn’t finished yet but is well on its way like last years, is about a government that rules with an iron fist. They will let you live your lives but if you get caught talking or doing anything against them, and they are listening all the time, you will be killed or ‘removed’. This government has made the UK a very rich UK. It has also, since the now Prime Minister took over, discovered that a chemical runs through most human beings bodies that, if it’s in a high quantity, will cause that person to commit a crime. The higher the chemical level, the worse the crime. This can be removed however and the remove-ee (not a word) can re enter society and never commit a crime.

In order to make sure all those that should, in the governments eyes anyway, have the chemical removed do have it removed, they want to create an End Solution. Someone who can smell the chemical and suck it out of someone on the spot like a vampire. The End Solution ends up, after years of experimentation, being created but by accident. Now, the End Solution, a once normal, middle of the road man, is now a super charged, walking deterant to crime. Will he help the government or will he go out on his own? Will his friends find him before its too late? Will the Prime Minister get what he wants? Will the Government be brought o its knee’s? will he go for pizza?

Who knows? I only roughly know myself. If you would be interested in reading a snippet of this, let me know. If not, I’ll post a snippet at some point so you’ll see it anyway.

And now, this…

2013-Winner-Vertical-Banner

 

Cheers

Research…Will I ever like you?

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Hello

Following on from my last post, which was two weeks ago, my fault, sorry, I have looked into buying a notice board. This may seem like a simple task but I don’t want to be buying notice boards all the time. This is necessary I can assure you. (I’m sure some of you are aware of this anyway.)

I also decided to dedicate a majority of last week to research. I have started to research certain parts of two of my stories, the story I’m currently writing which is my take on the vampire myth, The End Solution, and The Searcher’s Want, my hunter/searcher against demons for the fate of the world story I started, and finished recently, for NaNoWriMo.

For The End Solution, I’ve started by looking into the structure of the British Government. Specifically, who the Prime Minister has around him and why. I since discovered that he has around 21 members of parliament who act as cabinet ministers around him mainly amongst others. This has given me the headache of having to come up with possibly 10 new fully formed characters for this story as I don’t plan to need all of them in a complete capacity. And, along with having to write full character profiles for the ones already in the story, this is both bad and good. Bad, all that time it will take. Good, because I know I’ll enjoy it on many levels and it will help to advance the story greatly. Research…Will I ever like you?

For The Searcher’s Want, I decided to start the character profiles. Using the template I found in a post from writerdsnelson entitled ‘Profiling Blake’, I’ve discovered a lot about my characters and some things I can use to enhance their back stories, and create some conflict which I think the story needs, when I come to re-draft the story in the future. What I found out when doing this was some research, which I’d been neglecting about some of my characters, was sorely needed. For instance, one of my characters, the second oldest searcher named Abraham Smith, has been a searcher for 200 years. He became immortal at the age of 55 after being a searcher for 2 years. Now, this brings up all kinds of things when I’m writing about his history. Working out dates and things. It’s as exciting as it is frustrating. I think I’ve got the dates right, which I’m going to go over again just to be sure, to then find out I’ve missed one thing out. And I have to start all over again. Research…Will I ever like you?

I know I have to do research to make sure my story makes sense when it comes to location, dates and times of things, street names etc. But I think I’m just whining because it’s not as simple as I thought. I’m going to continue for the next week and I’m sure I’ll grow to like it. Here’s hoping anyway.

Well, to end this post and push me back into a research and character building frenzy, I’ll leave you with a question. How do you like to go about doing the research needed for any writing that you are about to do or are currently doing?

Cheers

 

 

Looking inside myself…for stuff and things.

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Hello

Following on from the promise I to myself that I would do more writing, I have, in fact, not done that much. Let’s see why that was…

Thursday 1st August 2013:

Got up. Went to work. Got home. Packed a bag. Stayed over at my girlfriend’s house. Fell asleep.

Friday 2nd August 2013:

Got up. Went to work. Got home. Unpacked a bag. Met my friend for a few beers. Had more beers (very bad ones). Had one last beer. Went home. Had another beer. Fell asleep at 4am.

Saturday 3rd August 2013:

Got up. Was hungover. Had a shower. Was hungover. Played on my xbox for most of the day. Was hungover. Had a nap. Woke up with the shakes. Bought a takeaway pizza. Watched The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (which was very good by the way. I do need to get round to reading those books you know). Fell asleep.

Sunday 4th August 2013:

Got up. Finished the July Edition of Writing Magazine (finally). Did a smeg load of ironing. Played on my xbox. Wrote 674 words of The End Solution (see I do write). Went out to the shop for supplies. Watched The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (which was very good as well.) Fell asleep.

Monday 5th August 2013:

Got up. Went to work. Got home. Packed a bag. On the tram read a chapter of Casino Royale. Stayed over at my girlfriend’s house. Fell asleep.

Today:

Got up. Read another chapter of Casino Royale on the tram to work. Got home. Unpacked a bag. Went for a run (in which I ran 10k in 57mins. I can do 55 minutes. Am I out of shape already?) Had a shower. Played on my xbox. Sat down to write this post.

*I should stress that I did eat, drink and go toilet on all of these days at regular intervals.*

It looks like I play a lot of xbox doesn’t it? I have contemplated getting rid of it but I use it as a reward when I finish writing at any given time. It is also a very good stress reliever, helps to wake me up in morning (not every morning), and helps me to wind down after work.

Seeing my girlfriend is always awesome. I shall keep doing that for as long as I can.

I have been meaning to read more often. The two chapters of Casino Royale should hopefully get me back to my reading ways.  I currently have three books on the go. One which is located in my bathroom, The Curious Case of the Dog at Midnight by Mark Haddon, 1984 by George Orwell, which is in my bedroom, and Casino Royale By Ian Fleming which is in my work bag. I also carry the latest copy of writing magazine in my work bag.

Maybe I need a concrete routine to follow. I have mentioned about wanting to follow a routine but sometimes when I get home from work or at the weekend I just want to do nothing. I’m going to be purchasing an actually notice board to, again hopefully kick start my writing. I know can write more in a week. Hell, I wrote 50,000 words a month once. What is holding me back?

I read an interesting article by Martine McDonagh (www.martinemcdonagh.com) entitled ‘Write-away Days’ which got me thinking about trying to write outside of my flat. Maybe in the local library. Or potentially take a long weekend away and use that to write. I do have a lot of holidays left to take from work?

So, all these words have led me to the questions of the post. How do you ensure you write on a regular basis? And, do you prefer to write at home or away?

 

Cheers

 

A fistful of grammar.

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Hello

So, I’ve continued to brush up on my grammar skills and as it turns out, I know more than I thought I did. Maybe in my haste to get my stories written I’ve chosen to forget certain aspects of the wonderful, if not very frustrating, world of grammar.

As I’ve been reading through the exceptional book, ‘Improve your grammar; Learn the skills, master the language.’ By Collins. (http://www.play.com/Books/Books/4-/7802960/Collins-Improve-Your-Grammar/Product.html?searchstring=imporive+your+grammar&searchsource=2&searchfilters=s%7bimporive+your+grammar%7d%2bc%7b91%7d%2b&urlrefer=search or http://www.amazon.co.uk/Collins-Improve-Your-Punctuation-Graham/dp/0007288069/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374611468&sr=1-5&keywords=improve+your+grammar) I keep remembering things that I’ve somehow forgotten or easily working out what I should be doing. I’m currently on the section dedicated to commas and all their forms. And if I’ve missed any commas so far or hereafter, I’m sorry.

This has also helped me with my editing and writing over the past week. I’ve continued with my take on the vampire myth and editing one of my older stories. The writing is coming along nicely, although as it’s going along I’m realising that I’m going to need to create a lot more for the world this story takes place in.

It’s a world in which the Prime Minister rules the country like a dictator. He has put in place huge, gothic, dark buildings in each of the main towns and cities across the country. These help him to keep a watch over a majority of it. He uses special employees or ‘Operatives’ to keep an eye on the small villages and day to day life that he can’t control himself. This, as you might imagine, creates a whole host of questions and a whole host of answers to accompany them. I’ll let you know how I get on.

On the other hand, the editing process has been more fruitful than I’d previously anticipated. I’ve always liked editing but after almost two years away from the story I’m casting my eye on, I’m chopping and changing stuff and really starting to be critical of myself. I know I’ll have to go back over it again and again (location, character, descriptions and so on) but if it’s possible I’m looking forward to it more than I ever have.

Well, that’s me for now. I’m going to get back to it. Hmm…How do I end this post…why not with a question?

If you could change one thing about the world today, what would it be? And don’t feel like you have to choose a nice, save the world, type of option. Just go nuts if you like.

 

Bye

 

 

A new short story of mine.

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Hello

This is a short story I finished a few months ago. I’ve been over it many times but would like a fresh view and feedback if possible.

It’s about a man who has lived all his life with a high pain thresh hold. This means he doesn’t feel the cold or the heat in the same way that everyone else does. He can feel these things but only at the last minute. He has felt trapped and lonely for most of his life so far. Until he decides to go for a run one Saturday morning…

‘

The doctors have never been able to fully diagnose his condition. They settled on an extremely high pain thresh hold but it did not explain why he could not completely feel hot or cold temperatures. He is twenty nine years old, six foot tall, has short blonde hair and a nice looking face. His name is Oliver. There is no known cure for him.

“They won’t treat you differently.” his pixie like mother said one Friday morning in the kitchen.

“How do you know?” He replied. She looked around nervously and then back into his eyes. He gave her a kiss on the cheek but before he could leave she gave him a warm hug.

Oliver’s job was to distribute work to the employees of a small administration company. None of them knew about his condition. He and reluctantly his parents decided that only they would know. Oliver consequently only let a few people into his life at any given time through fear of being looked at or treated differently. He thought some people might find it cool but he didn’t want to take that chance.

“I can’t come out after work mate; I’m cooking dinner for my Mrs” His Italian looking friend Peter said. Oliver nodded and said they’d do it another time. He always felt lonely when Peter did anything with his other half. He felt the same way whenever he saw a couple holding hands. He quietly made his way home.

“Oliver!” his dad said from the bottom of the stairs. He had fallen asleep in the bath again which to him felt like he was wrapped in a slimy blob from the neck down. He only got out and got dressed after seeing how shrivelled up his body had become. “What’s that on your hand, son?” his dad said as he got to the bottom of the stairs. His dad was a short, portly, overly concerned man who fussed over him a lot. Oliver knew he was just trying to be his friend so he didn’t object.

“Oh, I burned myself the other day. It’s alright now though.” He said looking at the red mark on the outside of his right little finger. He burnt it whilst frying some bacon and as always only moved his hand when it was too late. He’d felt the pain but only at the last possibly second. He did like being able to withstand high amounts of pain but what he really wanted was to be mindful of going near a fire or being out in the cold for too long.

The following morning he decided to go for a run. As he was running on a clear Saturday morning he spotted a fire engine up the street. Getting closer he saw the wild flames climbing up the house next to it and remembered to stay back because of the heat. He looked up and saw a room and heard the cries of a baby inside.

Oliver knew he had a good chance of saving the baby. He quickly ran into the house and climbed the now almost completely fire ridden stairs. He knocked the door down and grabbed the baby as the smoke began to build. It made him cough ferociously as the stairs collapsed with an almighty bang. He went back into the baby’s room and shouted down to the firemen. They quickly sent up a ladder and brought them to safety.

“Can’t you feel that?” the mother said after taking the baby and hugging the life out of him. A news reporter and camera had appeared just behind her. Oliver looked down and saw numerous red marks on his legs and arms. He had briefly forgotten he was wearing shorts and t-shirt.

“Not completely. I can’t feel hot or cold.” He said without thinking. He’d never felt happier than after saying those six little words. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
In the following weeks he became a local celebrity. He received an invitation to attend a nerve damage conference and accepted it for his mother’s sake. Peter insisted he go along with him. They sat down and waited for it to start.

“Hello, I’m Michelle.” A cute brunette girl with a flower in her hair said as she sat down next to him. She put out her hand and he was reluctant to shake it. “It’s ok. I can’t feel hot or cold either.”

‘

Another draft of a short story of mine.

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Hello

This is another draft of my take on the vampire myth entitled ‘The End Solution’. I have posted one draft before in a previous post if you feel like comparing them.

Feedback would be awesome. Thank You

‘

End Solution.

This attention following my unwanted rise to fame is running me ragged. They keep coming thick and fast even though they swear they mean me no harm. How can riot police scream such a phrase? I’m sure they can’t find me in here. I need to take my mind off this so I can relax and try to recover. I’ll do my usual trick. But I think I’ll commit my rebirth to this note book I took from them. I’m not about to let them get away with anything. Once I get things sorted, they’ll be sorry they ever tried to stop me.

Work was what it was; Nice but a bore. I could do everything on my team without really thinking about it which is standard when working in administration for over a year. The internet became half of my working day as a result. I was always just biding my time in that place. There’s only so many times you can be told something will come around so keep up the good work before slowly beginning to lose your will to live. Though thankfully my friends help me stay alive.

“Hey, Avenly. Get some work done! I don’t pay you to look at the news.’ Peter said this usually once or twice a day when ever one of the higher ups walked passed. He would then come over and read the news with me closely followed by Amanda and Mark. We were close friends and had had many a good night out together. I tried to go and see them but no matter how much control I think I have, it still isn’t enough. I watched them have a drink a few weeks ago before Amanda turned round and clocked me. I managed to run away before she came out to find me.

What the government has done to me fills me with a mixture of anger and hope. Anger that they would do such things to normal people just because they were different and feel they have the right to and hope because I can use what they did to me to put the country right. I realise the power I have but all I need is a complete plan. I can smell the ones that need to be killed but do I go at it randomly or in some kind of order?

The day I was created always goes through my head along with those bloody news reports. They established long ago that each person who committed a fatal act had a chemical in their blood that facilitated such an act. The tests they ran on the volunteers, who turned out to be criminals that were forced into it for their freedom, conclusively showed that this chemical could be removed and they could re-enter society without any threat to anyone. The volunteers were never freed at all. My visit to the government building to read and take some documentation on the subject some five days ago, which has increased the number of police after me,  showed me that some of them were found to act ‘in an undignified manner’ and were exterminated because of it. The documents show exactly what they did to my creator and the two hundred thousand. I won’t let them get away with this.

From my desk I could see the building where those tests had been conducted and are still probably being conducted now. The question I always had was how would they locate and extract the chemical. I thought I’d be happy knowing the answer, but now that I do and I am the answer, happiness is far from how I feel.

I left work that day and went passed the building to go home. It’s an ominous thing to look at with its Lord of the Rings style two towers that seemed to glare down on people. Every so often the light would catch it and it almost looked like the towers had eyes. I continued until I saw the crowd outside its main entrance as usual. They were always there trying to get information or complaining about the tests they were doing even though till that point it had clearly made the country a better place. I can see their side of things now.

I glanced up at the windows of the smaller office building that joined the two towers together and saw my creator running wildly through the corridor. I was frozen in shock. I can’t believe that that was all I could do. How small of a man was I until this all happened? I can’t imagine acting like that now.

He blasted through the main doors of the building with a wild and confused look in his eyes. Hair everywhere and whatever wasn’t covered by hair was covered by blood. People were screaming and running but I just couldn’t bloody move. I wondered why he was in such a state which gave him enough time to reach me. I tried to move but his grip was too much. His eyes seemed to say that he’d chosen me as he jumped and easily knocked me to the ground. When I tried to get him off me with my meagre strength he looked me in the eye and I couldn’t and still can’t really believe it. Was that happiness in his eyes? Like he was happy to attack me? I know now that he was. Still in shock I allowed him to bite me and though it lasted only a minute I felt its effects immediately.

It felt like he was sucking and blowing on my neck. Taking blood out and putting it back in again to mix it with mine was what it was. When he jumped off me I could feel it course through my body immediately and I had the overwhelming feeling that I was constantly drinking my favourite drink but as I drank my thirst increased. It was as glorious as it was painful. I miss that feeling and the few I’ve fed on so far haven’t come close. I fell to the ground and as I got back up, the feeling changed. A distinct odour filled my nose and made my fingers tingle. It was the same feeling I got whenever I caught the smell of my favourite cake being made or meal being cooked. As people ran past, still screaming and frightened, they all gave off the same odour. I leant against a nearby pole and just took the smell in. It was like nothing I’d ever smelt before. It was the chemical coursing through their veins.

I received a text message from Amanda which said something like ‘Hey Bruce RU ok? I can see people running around. If UR ok, we’re going for a drink in the usual place xx’. I genuinely thought to myself, Why not? I could have one drink and smell my friends. That has to go down as the best and worst thought I’ve ever had. As I casually strolled back through the crowd towards them standing outside work I noticed a few people directing horrified looks at my neck. As far as I could tell the blood flow had stopped but my neck and shoulder were covered along with most of the right side of my shirt. I suddenly felt weak at the knees and then it happened.

Everyone around me became irresistible and I had to suck the chemical out of all of them. I started to run but my knees wouldn’t let me. As I slowly got towards my friends they all smelt the same. The smell became more intense as I got my knees back and ran past them. The worried looks they gave me still haunt my dreams and I think Amanda shouted after me but I’ll never know.

Reports came to light later on, which differ from what I stole surprisingly, said that not everyone that had the chemical extracted had committed a Fatal Act. Two hundred thousand separate cases of people wrongly accused of fatal acts that had had the chemical extracted became completely different people. This quickly fuelled the countries news. But the country showed how fickle it could be when it forgot about the two hundred thousand after the discovery of my existence when the man who had bitten me, a ‘volunteer ‘and my creator was found. He eventually killed himself but only after revealing my full name and who I worked for. I always got teased about forgetting to remove my work badge when I left the building, maybe I should’ve listened.

I now know that I can accurately tell who will and who won’t commit a fatal act. I’m the ‘End Solution’. My creator was a prototype and the ‘End Solution’ can determine who’ll commit a fatal act and deal with it accordingly. They are completely unbiased as the chemical has never ‘Soiled their blood stream’. I’ve never had the chemical in my system so I’d never commit a fatal act which is why he chose me. He was the last experiment to go wrong and when he bit me I became the first one to go right.

They want me to return so badly and will do anything they can to help. I know that if I do return, they will apparently make me a ‘national hero’. All I can see in being a ‘national hero’ is being experimented on no matter how they sugar coat it. I’m not turning out like my creator or the two hundred thousand and why should I? With the power I have, I could rule the world.

I’ve been roaming around now for the past three months. I fed on a few people who had strong chemical smells coming from them and who turned out to be career criminals. I can walk near people, who all smell divine, and not attack them but I can only do this for six hours or so before wanting to drink them all. The only time I’ll be able to return is when I’m in complete control. Whatever they did to my creator has consequently made me gain muscle and my senses are much sharper. Thinking of which, I can smell them again. How did they find me? ‘

Feedback request!

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Hello all,

This is a draft of a short story I’m working on entitled The End Solution. Have a read and I’d appreciate your feedback. Cheers

”  This attention following my unwanted rise to fame is running me ragged. They keep coming thick and fast even though they swear they mean me no harm. How can riot police scream such a phrase? I’m sure they can’t find me in here. I need to take my mind off this so I can relax and try to recover. I think it’s time to start my journal of this mess and how it all began.

Work was what it was nice, but a bore. I could do everything on my team without really thinking about it. The internet became half of my working day as a result.

“Hey! What you doin, son?” Peter said as he walked past. He did that all the time which was fairly annoying, but I’d give anything to hear those words again.

“Just looking at the latest news, kid. The End Solution is upon us.” I said in my most overacting manner. The government had decided that in order to finally combat crime, rape, paedophilia, fraud and anything else that was wrong with the United Kingdom they needed an ‘End Solution’. The government reports stated it would be ‘the perfect answer to all the fatal acts committed in this great country’. I remember being proud of my government at that point. That thought makes me feel very ill now though.

“How close are they?” Amanda had said. She was very smart and too good for the job she did. She also had the greatest body I’d ever seen. I was comfortably in the friend zone with her so I was near it a lot. That zone had its perks. I do miss those perks.

“Apparently they began testing this afternoon on volunteer soldiers who want to be the government’s new walking deterrent or ‘End Solution’. They’ll be able to locate anyone who is at a high risk of committing a fatal act and extract the chemical straight away.”

“How will they extract it?” Mark asked. He had a heart of gold and was a good friend. He was also conducting an affair with Amanda behind Peter’s back. Being a good friend and not wanting to get more involved than I already was made me keep it to myself. I’d like to see how they’re doing now but all I can see are their worried faces when I ran away.

“Doesn’t say.”

I didn’t think I’d miss them as much as I do. I know for a fact that if I did see them again, I would smell the smell and nothing else. I can control myself to a certain degree, but I can’t do it forever. It’s not a chance I’m willing to take.

That day continued as normal. The news reports constantly ran through my head. When the government first established that each person who committed a fatal act had a chemical in their blood that facilitated such an act I found it all so….intriguing. The tests they ran on the volunteers, criminals forced into it for freedom, conclusively showed that this chemical could be removed. And that the volunteers become incapable of committing a fatal act. From my desk I could see the building where those tests were being conducted and are still probably being conducted now. How would they locate and extract the chemical? Was the question that ran through my mind and it was something they never told anyone. I thought I’d be happy knowing the answer, but now that I do, I could live without it.

I left work and took the path which went right in front of the government building to go home. It’s an ominous thing to look at with its lord of the rings style two towers that seemed to glare down on people. Every so often the light would catch it and it almost looked like the towers had eyes. I continued until I saw the crowd outside its main entrance as usual. They’re always there trying to get information or complaining about the tests they were doing even though it had clearly made the country a better place. I glanced up at the windows of the smaller office building that joined the two towers together and saw my creator running wildly through the corridor. I was frozen in shock. It was all I could do.

He blasted through the main doors of the building with a wild and confused look in his eye. Hair everywhere and whatever wasn’t covered by hair was covered by blood. People were screaming and running but I just couldn’t move. I was thinking about why he was like that he’d reached me. His eyes seemed to say that he’d chosen me as he jumped and easily knocked me to the ground. Being tall and slim I could’ve dodged this, but his speed along with the look and feel of him I doubt it. When I tried to get him off me he looked me in the eye and I couldn’t and still can’t believe it. Was that happiness in his eyes? Like he was happy to attack me? Still in shock I allowed him to bite me and though it lasted only a minute I felt its effects immediately.

It felt like he was sucking and blowing on my neck. Taking blood out and putting it back in was what it was. When he jumped off me I could feel it course through my body. I had the overwhelming feeling that I was constantly drinking my favourite drink, but as I drank my thirst increased. It was as glorious as it was painful. I fell to the ground and as I got back up, the feeling changed. A distinct odour filled my nose and made my fingers tingle. It was the same feeling I get whenever I caught the smell of my favourite cake being made or meal being cooked. As people ran past, still screaming and frightened, they all gave off the same odour. I leant against a nearby pole and just took the smell in. It was like nothing I’d ever smelt before and it dawned on me that this was the smell of the chemical.

My thoughts were interrupted by a text message from Amanda. It said something like ‘RU ok? I can see people running around. If UR ok, we’re going for a drink in the usual place xx’. I genuinely thought to myself, Why not? I could have one drink and smell my friends, that has to go down as the best and worst thought I’ve ever had. As I casually strolled back through the crowd towards them standing outside work I noticed a few people directing horrified looks at my neck. As far as I could tell the blood flow had stopped but my neck and shoulder were covered. I suddenly felt weak at the knees and then it happened.

Everyone around me became irresistible and I had to suck it out of all of them. I started to run but my knees wouldn’t let me. As I slowly got towards my friends they all smelt the same but somehow completely different. The smell became more intense as I got my knees back and ran past them. The worried looks they gave me are all I have left and I think Amanda shouted after me but I’ll never know.

Reports came to light after I was bitten that not everyone that had the chemical extracted had committed a Fatal Act. Two hundred thousand separate cases of people wrongly accused of fatal acts that had had the chemical extracted became completely different people. This quickly fuelled the world’s news. But the world showed how fickle it can be when it forgot about the two hundred thousand after the discovery of my existence when my creator was found. He eventually killed himself but only after revealing my full name and who I worked for. I always got teased about forgetting to remove my work badge when I left the building, maybe I should’ve listened.

I now know that I can accurately tell who will and who won’t commit a fatal act. I’m an ‘End Solution Warrior’. The soldier was a prototype and the ‘End Solution’ can determine who’ll commit a fatal act and deal with it accordingly. They are completely unbiased as the chemical has never ‘Soiled their DNA’. I’ve never had the chemical in my system so I’d never commit a fatal act which is why he chose me. He was the last experiment to go wrong and when he bit me I became the first one to go right which is why the government want me to return so badly. But if I do return, because I’m their property after you sift through all the rubbish that fills their reports, they will apparently make me a ‘national hero’. All I can see in being a ‘national hero’ is being experimented on no matter how they sugar coat it. I’m not turning out like my creator or the two hundred thousand.

I’ve been roaming around now for the past three months and I can walk near people, who all smell divine, and not attack them. I can only do this for six hours or so before wanting to drink them all. The footage of my family on the news pleading for me to return is heartbreaking but I just can’t as I fear their lives will be in danger. The only time I’ll be able to return is when I’m in complete control. Whatever they did to my creator, apart from the chemical thirst, has made me gain muscle and my senses are much sharper. Thinking of which, I can smell them again. How did they find me? “

The Story I’m Editing now ‘The Town of the Mountain’

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Hello

These are the first 729 (exactly) words of the first chapter of a story I started after starting another story that got bigger and bigger due to the amount of ideas I was having. I wanted to write a short story or novella just so I had a full one I could add to and mess around with. Forgive any grammatical errors but please tell me about them. If that makes sense.

Your comments are welcome.

The roar made him spin round in anticipation. It was as sickening as he was used to, but like most that have come before, the bugbear responsible didn’t appear.

There’s not much you can say about him, but the one thing most say is that he’s aware. He won’t let much get past him. He is Markus ‘Trident’ Groningen. The things he’s done whilst being so aware were and are to this day greatly appreciated by the townsfolk. This small town is located at the foot of a huge mountain that reaches beyond the clouds and the top of which has never been seen.

‘Trident’, which was the town’s and his fellow hunters nickname for him, was so called because he hunts with a wooden handled Trident with three extremely lethal prongs at its end. The considerable weight this creates doesn’t stop him from handling it with same ease as the wind would handle a stray leaf. He is six foot two inches tall and there isn’t an ounce of fat to be found on him. He along with each of the other hunters has a weapon of choice to the bugbears that ranged from gigantic in size to at their smallest man sized. None of the hunters was recognised officially as the leader but ‘Trident’ was treated as such within the five.

The hunters had only a few things in common, these included wearing the same smart shirts and cotton twill pants along with any footwear of their choosing. Eriden Grainger, who has the distinction of being the only woman hunter to date, stood at five foot eleven inch with a considerable amount of muscle herself. Though this muscle had been toned over the years so she kept her womanly figure and never strayed into the ‘manly woman’ category. I’m sure you know one of these and there not the best to look at.  She carried two pistols which matched that of any gunslinger to have ever graced the Wild West. Although I doubt many of them wore a corset. They all covered up with the standard long dark brown coat which was closer to black but patches of the coats still remained there natural color. The shirt, pants and long coat combination was standard for a hunter and it always allowed them to keep their weapons concealed from the bugbears. The bugbears knew the hunters by their clothes more so than there facial features and in some instances a bugbear has been lured by a coat being put around something that resembled a hunter from the back and lured into a trap by the coats owner.

As we join ‘Trident’ we find him doing his daily rounds. Each hunter is required to walk the distance of the forest in search of bugbears each day alternately. Bugbears came out at night which was when all the hunters were scheduled to patrol the forest in shifts. Two would go on patrol for the night and then the next night another two would patrol. The remaining hunter would hunt with the Sheriff of the town the next night then they would switch partners the next night and so on.

‘Come back in Trident. Seven times is enough for any man.  Even one as tireless as yourself.’ Stuart shouted from the edge of the forest. Stuart Pinder-Marsh carried a fencing sword at one side of his six foot muscular frame and the other side was accompanied by a great sword who’s blade stretched four and half feet and was three inches wide. It was the sharpest sword in the town and has been called a contender for sharpest in the country by some travelling blacksmiths and sword experts. His muscles are his pride and have enabled him to handle his great sword with ease just like Markus can handle his Trident. He now held the less taxing two jugs of water for him and for the now tried Markus. Marcus had reached the edge of the forest but was looking back one final time. After a few more minutes of cautious glances towards the darker parts of the forest, he turned and walked towards him. Stuart in turn held up the full jug of water which was swiped from his hand quickly.

‘Polite as usual.’ Stuart muttered.

‘I heard that.’ Replied Markus as he took a large gulp of his jug.