The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
The sun beat on my bare stomach, as I lay facing the clear blue sky above me. It was mid-day, the hottest part of the day, where the sun was immediately above the little protection from the sun there was. The Palm Trees gave me just enough shade to protect my face and shaven head from the un-forgiving glare of the sun.
I had been here for twelve days now, twelve long days since my fighter plane had crashed down over this empty desert. I had managed to parachute out before the plan hit the ground, or I, like the plane, would now be lying in the soft sand, burnt to ashes.
A rare white cloud hovered hundreds of miles above me, spoiling what was principally the most beautiful of clear blue skies. The sun shimmered on the still water of the Oasis, every so often sending a beam of light through my vision. A rare cool breeze sent a relaxing shiver through my over-heated body, only to be immediately replaced with the scorching heat of the desert I had been landed in.
Lieutenant Charles Holmes, of the RAF, out on military business in Iraq. I had been sent out to drop missiles on the capital of Baghdad, in the latest war between Britain and America on ‘terrorism’. Look where it had landed me, in the middle of the desert, away from my wife and two kids, with nothing to keep me going except hope.
I sat there for hours and hours, wishing for my rescue, or for death. I didn’t have the guts to kill myself, not that there were many ways for me to out here. I had thrown my standard pistol into the Oasis when I first arrived. I had decided I would stick it out, not take the easy way out. Hold out until my rescue, or my death.
I hadn’t eaten anything of any value since I had arrived. I tried climbing the steep palm trees to get at the coconuts; I simply didn’t have the strength in my body to clamber up the trees. Eventually I got one down, but it did little to dismiss my hunger, simply made me want more.
Then I saw it again, sitting there in front of me, about five metres away. If I crawled forward, I could reach it, touch it, eat it. I could feel my finger running through the creamy smooth of the topping, then sinking into the biscuity base, bringing my finger out and licking it. Savouring the taste with every taste bud I had.
In reality, there was nothing there, just sand, sand and even more sand, stretching for hundreds of miles in every direction. The cheesecake image came and went, and came again, and went again. I would give anything to eat one last cheesecake, in fact, I would eat one last cheesecake, I was determined too. I would hold out here and get rescued, all for one cheesecake…
I had been here for twelve days now, twelve long days since my fighter plane had crashed down over this empty desert. I had managed to parachute out before the plan hit the ground, or I, like the plane, would now be lying in the soft sand, burnt to ashes.
A rare white cloud hovered hundreds of miles above me, spoiling what was principally the most beautiful of clear blue skies. The sun shimmered on the still water of the Oasis, every so often sending a beam of light through my vision. A rare cool breeze sent a relaxing shiver through my over-heated body, only to be immediately replaced with the scorching heat of the desert I had been landed in.
Lieutenant Charles Holmes, of the RAF, out on military business in Iraq. I had been sent out to drop missiles on the capital of Baghdad, in the latest war between Britain and America on ‘terrorism’. Look where it had landed me, in the middle of the desert, away from my wife and two kids, with nothing to keep me going except hope.
I sat there for hours and hours, wishing for my rescue, or for death. I didn’t have the guts to kill myself, not that there were many ways for me to out here. I had thrown my standard pistol into the Oasis when I first arrived. I had decided I would stick it out, not take the easy way out. Hold out until my rescue, or my death.
I hadn’t eaten anything of any value since I had arrived. I tried climbing the steep palm trees to get at the coconuts; I simply didn’t have the strength in my body to clamber up the trees. Eventually I got one down, but it did little to dismiss my hunger, simply made me want more.
Then I saw it again, sitting there in front of me, about five metres away. If I crawled forward, I could reach it, touch it, eat it. I could feel my finger running through the creamy smooth of the topping, then sinking into the biscuity base, bringing my finger out and licking it. Savouring the taste with every taste bud I had.
In reality, there was nothing there, just sand, sand and even more sand, stretching for hundreds of miles in every direction. The cheesecake image came and went, and came again, and went again. I would give anything to eat one last cheesecake, in fact, I would eat one last cheesecake, I was determined too. I would hold out here and get rescued, all for one cheesecake…
Not sure why, but I really liked this. If you'll allow me to travel up myself and assume that I'm worthy of teaching, the only advice I'd give would be to try and vary your vocabulary. I have a terrible vocabulary myself, but I just drop words in a thesaurus at www.dictionary.com. I really like words to twist around the tale a little, but hey, it's your story. And I enjoyed it so hey. :D
I hate the sun.
"It was mid-day, the hottest part of the day, where the sun was immediately above the little protection from the sun there was."
Sun sun sun sun sun.
Change one of them!
Otherwise it was great.
Sun sun sun sun sun.
Change one of them!
Otherwise it was great.
Prfft I don't like it reading it again.
I'll leave it though, maybe Grix will go crazy.
I'll leave it though, maybe Grix will go crazy.
Saying all this though, I do believe taht the paragraph where he pictured the cake in front of him, but it just turned out to be the sand, was very well written. Kudos for that part, very enthralling.
Yeh, something to shock would have been good, but the sense of desperation and damnation is quite well conveyed methinks.
Hmmmmm...a nice concept, and for the most part well described. I feel the piece could have perhaps had more significance; something that will shock people. Even in the absence of this, its still a good attempt.
The sun beat on my bare stomach, as I lay facing the clear blue sky above me. It was mid-day, the hottest part of the day, where the sun was immediately above the little protection from the sun there was. The Palm Trees gave me just enough shade to protect my face and shaven head from the un-forgiving glare of the sun.
I had been here for twelve days now, twelve long days since my fighter plane had crashed down over this empty desert. I had managed to parachute out before the plan hit the ground, or I, like the plane, would now be lying in the soft sand, burnt to ashes.
A rare white cloud hovered hundreds of miles above me, spoiling what was principally the most beautiful of clear blue skies. The sun shimmered on the still water of the Oasis, every so often sending a beam of light through my vision. A rare cool breeze sent a relaxing shiver through my over-heated body, only to be immediately replaced with the scorching heat of the desert I had been landed in.
Lieutenant Charles Holmes, of the RAF, out on military business in Iraq. I had been sent out to drop missiles on the capital of Baghdad, in the latest war between Britain and America on ‘terrorism’. Look where it had landed me, in the middle of the desert, away from my wife and two kids, with nothing to keep me going except hope.
I sat there for hours and hours, wishing for my rescue, or for death. I didn’t have the guts to kill myself, not that there were many ways for me to out here. I had thrown my standard pistol into the Oasis when I first arrived. I had decided I would stick it out, not take the easy way out. Hold out until my rescue, or my death.
I hadn’t eaten anything of any value since I had arrived. I tried climbing the steep palm trees to get at the coconuts; I simply didn’t have the strength in my body to clamber up the trees. Eventually I got one down, but it did little to dismiss my hunger, simply made me want more.
Then I saw it again, sitting there in front of me, about five metres away. If I crawled forward, I could reach it, touch it, eat it. I could feel my finger running through the creamy smooth of the topping, then sinking into the biscuity base, bringing my finger out and licking it. Savouring the taste with every taste bud I had.
In reality, there was nothing there, just sand, sand and even more sand, stretching for hundreds of miles in every direction. The cheesecake image came and went, and came again, and went again. I would give anything to eat one last cheesecake, in fact, I would eat one last cheesecake, I was determined too. I would hold out here and get rescued, all for one cheesecake…
I had been here for twelve days now, twelve long days since my fighter plane had crashed down over this empty desert. I had managed to parachute out before the plan hit the ground, or I, like the plane, would now be lying in the soft sand, burnt to ashes.
A rare white cloud hovered hundreds of miles above me, spoiling what was principally the most beautiful of clear blue skies. The sun shimmered on the still water of the Oasis, every so often sending a beam of light through my vision. A rare cool breeze sent a relaxing shiver through my over-heated body, only to be immediately replaced with the scorching heat of the desert I had been landed in.
Lieutenant Charles Holmes, of the RAF, out on military business in Iraq. I had been sent out to drop missiles on the capital of Baghdad, in the latest war between Britain and America on ‘terrorism’. Look where it had landed me, in the middle of the desert, away from my wife and two kids, with nothing to keep me going except hope.
I sat there for hours and hours, wishing for my rescue, or for death. I didn’t have the guts to kill myself, not that there were many ways for me to out here. I had thrown my standard pistol into the Oasis when I first arrived. I had decided I would stick it out, not take the easy way out. Hold out until my rescue, or my death.
I hadn’t eaten anything of any value since I had arrived. I tried climbing the steep palm trees to get at the coconuts; I simply didn’t have the strength in my body to clamber up the trees. Eventually I got one down, but it did little to dismiss my hunger, simply made me want more.
Then I saw it again, sitting there in front of me, about five metres away. If I crawled forward, I could reach it, touch it, eat it. I could feel my finger running through the creamy smooth of the topping, then sinking into the biscuity base, bringing my finger out and licking it. Savouring the taste with every taste bud I had.
In reality, there was nothing there, just sand, sand and even more sand, stretching for hundreds of miles in every direction. The cheesecake image came and went, and came again, and went again. I would give anything to eat one last cheesecake, in fact, I would eat one last cheesecake, I was determined too. I would hold out here and get rescued, all for one cheesecake…