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The figure rocked back and forward in his chair. It was nearly time for work again. Oh why did he get born into this job? All the others had easy lives, all they had to do was collect the souls of a few common people every day.
'No' the figure thought to himself as he ran his bony finger down the shiny edge of his scythe in contemplation, 'I have to end up being the Death of Sniper.'
Ever since the world was young, the people in the department of Death (human division) had noticed that one individual had always managed to cheat death. Well, not cheat it exactly, more face it on a near daily basis. They continued to live their lives, growing older just like everyone else, and eventually dying (for good this time) of old age. They would pass this trait on to their offspring, who would be told at the age of 3 that they had a special power and needed to use it for the good of mankind. (except for the infamous Jane Sniper, who used her power for gaining entry in to top secret labs and military installations, but only in order to hang out with soldiers) This is how it went and the Sniper family just accepted it, as many of their ancestors had in the past.
Unfortunately, the task of taking the soul of the Sniper family was a job that involved much more work than other soul collectors, as it also involved dropping the soul off at the point where the body returned to life. A few times this had involved crossing continents, or even exiting the atmosphere (in the case of Wilson Sniper, the astronaut who, due to a malfunction in the onboard computer of his shuttle, suddenly found himself breathing ice-cream instead of oxygen and by the time Death of Sniper had the chance to find his body, the rocket was embedded deep in a mountain in the south pacific. In short, the job of Death of Sniper was like picking the shortest straw in the box.
The current Death of Sniper put his book down and turned to rest his scythe against the wall. Just as he turned around the clock on the wall began to chime, it was more of a dull thud than a chime, but he kept it, as it seemed to somehow sum his life up pretty well. He got up, grabbing his long black cloak, and walked through the door.
--
It was a hot day and Sniper was making the most of it by adjusting the brakes of his car, when Grix walked past.
"Sniper?" he shouted as he looked around, not seeing the pair of legs that hung from out of the front of the car. "Helloooooo? Anyone home?" he continued as he absent-mindedly leant on the bonnet.
The car creaked on its old metal ramps that Sniper had bought second hand just the other year, then with a metallic moan it gave way, sending Sniper's legs off into the sunset and painting the front of the car a deep red.
"Oh well." said the Death of Sniper as he looked on, "Time for work again..." He rushed down towards the car and swooped over it, pulling the grumbling Sniper's spirit from the air as he did so. "You'd think that you of all people would get used to this dying lark." he said as Sniper grumbled after being so rudely interrupted.
"You try it, day after day..." said Sniper with a snarl, before his personal death put him back down where one of his legs had embedded itself in the hedgerow. “It’s the disorientation that you get from finding yourself somewhere else, I hate that feeling.”
Death of Sniper observed the ligament. The leg had strangely grown a body on the end, and it was this body that, moments later, dragged itself out of the bushes and dusted itself down.
"Ah, there you are!" said Grix as he turned to see Sniper walking towards him, still picking bits of hedge from his jumper. "Doing a bit of gardening were you?
“Something like that…” said Sniper in reply.
“I came around to ask if I could have a lift into town...only, it’s so hot and I don’t really feel like walking."
"Yeah." mumbled Sniper, "no problem." he said as he motioned for Grix to get in the passenger seat as he did his seatbelt up.
As they drove off, a pool of liquid steadily congealed where the car had been and a slow trickle followed the destination of the car. Anyone who passed by might have smelt something akin to brake fluid.
---
"Could you slow down a little?" asked a nervous Grix as they went down the steep hill to town.
"I would....if the brakes worked..." said Sniper in a sarcastic tone. He pressed again, but no sign of activity came from the brakes. This didn’t really surprise Sniper. It seemed that fate always dealt him a cruel turn, possibly in balance for his unique powers.
As they ran off the road and sailed into the large oak tree at the side of the road, Grix was comforted by the appearence of the air bag, while Sniper just thought 'not again...' as he made a mental note to order new airbags for the drivers side next time.
Another character was thinking the exact same thing as he watched the graceful arc of the vehicle, culminating in the decent into the old oak tree and comfortably wrapping itself around in a humble embrace. Death of Sniper was soon in the air with the soul of Sniper again, waiting for his body to reappear.
As Sniper climbed down from the top branches of the tree, he noticed Grix walking away.
"It's ok..." said Grix hobbling off into the distance. "I'll walk the other 5 miles..."
After the AA had picked what was left of Sniper's car out of the branches of the tree, he went indoors to make a cup of coffee. A ring at the door brought him running to open it. It was Cooldogs.
"Hello!" he said with a cheery smile, I'm trying to sell these kitchen knives for charity, want to buy some?" He motioned to the sharply pointed knife in front of him. Unfortunately, Cooldogs, being a fairly new neighbour of Sniper, was unaware of his penchant for getting to know sharp objects very well, usually from the wrong end.
"ok…anything for charity." said Sniper as he went to fetch some money. After finding a £5 note, he walked back towards the door, but tripped on an ornamental dog (which he'd bought in the same place as the metal car ramps.) He felt his body fly through the sky and embedded itself deeply on the knife, sending fountains of blood up in the air and all over a frightened Cooldogs. Cooldogs just stood their, covered in blood and wide eyed as he watched the lifeless body slide to the floor.
Death of Sniper had only just got his breath back from having to glide the best part of 10 miles to Sniper's house (it wasn't as easy as it looked, and they never wanted to give him a horse back at the academy of Death) He panted as he picked up the form of Sniper and lay him back down on the floor where the lifeless body lay, with Cooldogs still standing over it.
"Towel?" Sniper said as he got up and reached out for a nearby tea-towel in front of the perplexed Cooldogs. He saw his expression and smiled. "Don't worry, happens all the time."
"What does?" asked Cooldogs, still stunned by the whole thing.
"Death." said Sniper off-handedly
--
Death of Sniper was pacing up and down outside of the Chief Death’s office. He really hated having to complain, but he’d been far too long without any sleep or even an afternoon off. The door opened and he marched in.
“Right, that's it.” said Death of Sniper to the chief Death. “I've been owed holiday for ages now, and I'm taking it...'”
Chief Death looked him in the face. 'You can't! There's no one to cover!" he said bluntly. “Besides, you’re so good at your job, and what would Sniper do without you? Think of that.”
“Live?!” replied the Death of Sniper and then just gave him a terrible glance and walked out.
"Oh well," said Cheif Death, sighing. "At least Sniper's going to have a nice rest, I suppose."
--
Sniper couldn't understand it, he'd been through 2 days without any accidental deaths, without ANY deaths. What was going on? Just to experiment, he threw a knife up into the air above him and watched as it fell back down towards him. Just as he thought it would strike, it missed and embedded itself in the table instead. 'Oh well.' he thought, 'perhaps things are turning out for the better...'
Not used to his new found freedom, Sniper spent the whole of the next week doing highly dangerous things that he’d never considered doing before. He spent a day learning to tightrope walk and juggle sharp objects, rode the worlds biggest roller coaster and paraglided from the tallest mountains he could find. When he got home he felt really happy and nothing could get him down.
By the end of the week he was getting a bit tired. It was getting cold, so he got into bed and switched on the electric blanket. Sipping some water, he settled down against his pillow. A mosquito buzzed around him, so he swatted it with his hand. A pity then, that it was the hand that held the water. The sheets buzzed with electric current as the water acted as a conductor and sniper lit up the room for 2 minutes before the air smelt of charcoal and something similar to roast chicken.
'Missed me?' said a familiar voice. Sniper’s soul looked up to see Death of Sniper standing at the foot of his bed.
'I had a lovely vacation, but I decided that there was nothing like work...' chuckled the Death of Sniper. 'Besides, I realised that missed your interesting deaths and it got a bit boring after a while.'
'No' the figure thought to himself as he ran his bony finger down the shiny edge of his scythe in contemplation, 'I have to end up being the Death of Sniper.'
Ever since the world was young, the people in the department of Death (human division) had noticed that one individual had always managed to cheat death. Well, not cheat it exactly, more face it on a near daily basis. They continued to live their lives, growing older just like everyone else, and eventually dying (for good this time) of old age. They would pass this trait on to their offspring, who would be told at the age of 3 that they had a special power and needed to use it for the good of mankind. (except for the infamous Jane Sniper, who used her power for gaining entry in to top secret labs and military installations, but only in order to hang out with soldiers) This is how it went and the Sniper family just accepted it, as many of their ancestors had in the past.
Unfortunately, the task of taking the soul of the Sniper family was a job that involved much more work than other soul collectors, as it also involved dropping the soul off at the point where the body returned to life. A few times this had involved crossing continents, or even exiting the atmosphere (in the case of Wilson Sniper, the astronaut who, due to a malfunction in the onboard computer of his shuttle, suddenly found himself breathing ice-cream instead of oxygen and by the time Death of Sniper had the chance to find his body, the rocket was embedded deep in a mountain in the south pacific. In short, the job of Death of Sniper was like picking the shortest straw in the box.
The current Death of Sniper put his book down and turned to rest his scythe against the wall. Just as he turned around the clock on the wall began to chime, it was more of a dull thud than a chime, but he kept it, as it seemed to somehow sum his life up pretty well. He got up, grabbing his long black cloak, and walked through the door.
--
It was a hot day and Sniper was making the most of it by adjusting the brakes of his car, when Grix walked past.
"Sniper?" he shouted as he looked around, not seeing the pair of legs that hung from out of the front of the car. "Helloooooo? Anyone home?" he continued as he absent-mindedly leant on the bonnet.
The car creaked on its old metal ramps that Sniper had bought second hand just the other year, then with a metallic moan it gave way, sending Sniper's legs off into the sunset and painting the front of the car a deep red.
"Oh well." said the Death of Sniper as he looked on, "Time for work again..." He rushed down towards the car and swooped over it, pulling the grumbling Sniper's spirit from the air as he did so. "You'd think that you of all people would get used to this dying lark." he said as Sniper grumbled after being so rudely interrupted.
"You try it, day after day..." said Sniper with a snarl, before his personal death put him back down where one of his legs had embedded itself in the hedgerow. “It’s the disorientation that you get from finding yourself somewhere else, I hate that feeling.”
Death of Sniper observed the ligament. The leg had strangely grown a body on the end, and it was this body that, moments later, dragged itself out of the bushes and dusted itself down.
"Ah, there you are!" said Grix as he turned to see Sniper walking towards him, still picking bits of hedge from his jumper. "Doing a bit of gardening were you?
“Something like that…” said Sniper in reply.
“I came around to ask if I could have a lift into town...only, it’s so hot and I don’t really feel like walking."
"Yeah." mumbled Sniper, "no problem." he said as he motioned for Grix to get in the passenger seat as he did his seatbelt up.
As they drove off, a pool of liquid steadily congealed where the car had been and a slow trickle followed the destination of the car. Anyone who passed by might have smelt something akin to brake fluid.
---
"Could you slow down a little?" asked a nervous Grix as they went down the steep hill to town.
"I would....if the brakes worked..." said Sniper in a sarcastic tone. He pressed again, but no sign of activity came from the brakes. This didn’t really surprise Sniper. It seemed that fate always dealt him a cruel turn, possibly in balance for his unique powers.
As they ran off the road and sailed into the large oak tree at the side of the road, Grix was comforted by the appearence of the air bag, while Sniper just thought 'not again...' as he made a mental note to order new airbags for the drivers side next time.
Another character was thinking the exact same thing as he watched the graceful arc of the vehicle, culminating in the decent into the old oak tree and comfortably wrapping itself around in a humble embrace. Death of Sniper was soon in the air with the soul of Sniper again, waiting for his body to reappear.
As Sniper climbed down from the top branches of the tree, he noticed Grix walking away.
"It's ok..." said Grix hobbling off into the distance. "I'll walk the other 5 miles..."
After the AA had picked what was left of Sniper's car out of the branches of the tree, he went indoors to make a cup of coffee. A ring at the door brought him running to open it. It was Cooldogs.
"Hello!" he said with a cheery smile, I'm trying to sell these kitchen knives for charity, want to buy some?" He motioned to the sharply pointed knife in front of him. Unfortunately, Cooldogs, being a fairly new neighbour of Sniper, was unaware of his penchant for getting to know sharp objects very well, usually from the wrong end.
"ok…anything for charity." said Sniper as he went to fetch some money. After finding a £5 note, he walked back towards the door, but tripped on an ornamental dog (which he'd bought in the same place as the metal car ramps.) He felt his body fly through the sky and embedded itself deeply on the knife, sending fountains of blood up in the air and all over a frightened Cooldogs. Cooldogs just stood their, covered in blood and wide eyed as he watched the lifeless body slide to the floor.
Death of Sniper had only just got his breath back from having to glide the best part of 10 miles to Sniper's house (it wasn't as easy as it looked, and they never wanted to give him a horse back at the academy of Death) He panted as he picked up the form of Sniper and lay him back down on the floor where the lifeless body lay, with Cooldogs still standing over it.
"Towel?" Sniper said as he got up and reached out for a nearby tea-towel in front of the perplexed Cooldogs. He saw his expression and smiled. "Don't worry, happens all the time."
"What does?" asked Cooldogs, still stunned by the whole thing.
"Death." said Sniper off-handedly
--
Death of Sniper was pacing up and down outside of the Chief Death’s office. He really hated having to complain, but he’d been far too long without any sleep or even an afternoon off. The door opened and he marched in.
“Right, that's it.” said Death of Sniper to the chief Death. “I've been owed holiday for ages now, and I'm taking it...'”
Chief Death looked him in the face. 'You can't! There's no one to cover!" he said bluntly. “Besides, you’re so good at your job, and what would Sniper do without you? Think of that.”
“Live?!” replied the Death of Sniper and then just gave him a terrible glance and walked out.
"Oh well," said Cheif Death, sighing. "At least Sniper's going to have a nice rest, I suppose."
--
Sniper couldn't understand it, he'd been through 2 days without any accidental deaths, without ANY deaths. What was going on? Just to experiment, he threw a knife up into the air above him and watched as it fell back down towards him. Just as he thought it would strike, it missed and embedded itself in the table instead. 'Oh well.' he thought, 'perhaps things are turning out for the better...'
Not used to his new found freedom, Sniper spent the whole of the next week doing highly dangerous things that he’d never considered doing before. He spent a day learning to tightrope walk and juggle sharp objects, rode the worlds biggest roller coaster and paraglided from the tallest mountains he could find. When he got home he felt really happy and nothing could get him down.
By the end of the week he was getting a bit tired. It was getting cold, so he got into bed and switched on the electric blanket. Sipping some water, he settled down against his pillow. A mosquito buzzed around him, so he swatted it with his hand. A pity then, that it was the hand that held the water. The sheets buzzed with electric current as the water acted as a conductor and sniper lit up the room for 2 minutes before the air smelt of charcoal and something similar to roast chicken.
'Missed me?' said a familiar voice. Sniper’s soul looked up to see Death of Sniper standing at the foot of his bed.
'I had a lovely vacation, but I decided that there was nothing like work...' chuckled the Death of Sniper. 'Besides, I realised that missed your interesting deaths and it got a bit boring after a while.'
Page:
You got your brain to work?? That must have taken a lot of effort, I feel sorry for you now, I'll let you win.
:D
----------------------
It's a notable Bonus
:D
:D
----------------------
It's a notable Bonus
:D
YOu'll die in Tactical ops and i've made up my mind!
Sniper in da house???
You some sort of poltergeist now?? Sick fed up of being reincarnated and killed again?? I understand!!
Someone call the Ghostbusters!!!!!!!!! :D
--------------------
It's a notable Bonus.
:D
You some sort of poltergeist now?? Sick fed up of being reincarnated and killed again?? I understand!!
Someone call the Ghostbusters!!!!!!!!! :D
--------------------
It's a notable Bonus.
:D
Oh :O
heh :D
oh write more PB it is good stuff!
I used to lvoe writing stories but i scrapped my new one after the misunderstood NRA.
Thank you both!
(but you know saying things like that will only encourage me to write more of them....)
;-)
(but you know saying things like that will only encourage me to write more of them....)
;-)
Yep very good story I liked it a lot.
pb, that was excellent.
It's also reminded me that I need to carry on my story as well. Hopefully I'll have it done by the middle of next week, although it may take longer....
It's also reminded me that I need to carry on my story as well. Hopefully I'll have it done by the middle of next week, although it may take longer....
Page: