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People probably prefer funny stories, but I prefer serious stories, and I haven't written one for a while. So I am. I have various openings. So far I've filled no places. Here's the opening bit, which is all I've written. Tell me if you wish to be in it. No guarentees, mind :-D :
The windswept night in a lonely part of London was not the beginning. But it was a beginning. Along one sodden street, a man walked, slowly, so as to attract no attention. He huddled under his coat, sharp eyes surveying the door opposite him. He sighed. However long he looked, he would always be at the disadvantage. He nodded, and only someone looking very closely would have noticed the shake of his hands.
He was nervous. It was not an emotion he was used to. Yet when you dealt with the people he was about to, he had every right. That didn’t make him feel any better. He pulled a Beretta from his belt and kicked the door open. Silence. The shrouds of darkness added to the wells of fear inside him.
“ Who are you?” One voice said, cold even in this freezing temperature. I
“ The walking style...one used to hardship.” The next voice put a harsh tone on the word.
“ What do you want?”
The figure clenched a fist, tightly. A shadow moved, slowly. Nothing but inperceptable murk.
“ I was…given this address. By a friend.”
“A friend?” a tone of amusement edged the voice.
The figure said nothing. Abruptly, a faint light flicked on. Two figures sat at the other end of the room, faces still in gloom.
“ Well. What do you want?” repeated the second figure. The first figure steeped his figures.
The new figure dropped a case on the floor. He shoved it towards them with a toe. They didn’t move.
“What is your name?”
“ For now, you will know me as Mr S.”
No reply from the silent duo.
“ It’s got no explosives.” Mr S said.
Silence. The one called Mr S sighed, and reached down to open the case. In a flash, the two moved.
--
Twill be a while, it'll be long.
Cheers, Stryke.
The windswept night in a lonely part of London was not the beginning. But it was a beginning. Along one sodden street, a man walked, slowly, so as to attract no attention. He huddled under his coat, sharp eyes surveying the door opposite him. He sighed. However long he looked, he would always be at the disadvantage. He nodded, and only someone looking very closely would have noticed the shake of his hands.
He was nervous. It was not an emotion he was used to. Yet when you dealt with the people he was about to, he had every right. That didn’t make him feel any better. He pulled a Beretta from his belt and kicked the door open. Silence. The shrouds of darkness added to the wells of fear inside him.
“ Who are you?” One voice said, cold even in this freezing temperature. I
“ The walking style...one used to hardship.” The next voice put a harsh tone on the word.
“ What do you want?”
The figure clenched a fist, tightly. A shadow moved, slowly. Nothing but inperceptable murk.
“ I was…given this address. By a friend.”
“A friend?” a tone of amusement edged the voice.
The figure said nothing. Abruptly, a faint light flicked on. Two figures sat at the other end of the room, faces still in gloom.
“ Well. What do you want?” repeated the second figure. The first figure steeped his figures.
The new figure dropped a case on the floor. He shoved it towards them with a toe. They didn’t move.
“What is your name?”
“ For now, you will know me as Mr S.”
No reply from the silent duo.
“ It’s got no explosives.” Mr S said.
Silence. The one called Mr S sighed, and reached down to open the case. In a flash, the two moved.
--
Twill be a while, it'll be long.
Cheers, Stryke.
Someone could eat me...
I'm working on (Well worked on and couldn't be bothered) a serious story, titled ATTACK OF THE GIANT KILLER RAT FROM HELL!
Great story. I mean wonderful, descriptive, yet unfortunantly confusing to read, therefor intelegent. I'm sure you will/ have fitted me in somewhere.
First part is up in Prime, called "Essarin", if anyone's interested.
Excellent reply, Jess :-D
Can I be in it? I'll be the stealthy guy, who everyone loves (to hate).
Cheers (If you put me in the story)
**** you (If you don't)
:D
Cheers (If you put me in the story)
**** you (If you don't)
:D
Yay a gaz storrrry! Excuse me, I'm bored and in need of something to read that isn't philosophy, because my brain can't handle that right now..
People probably prefer funny stories, but I prefer serious stories, and I haven't written one for a while. So I am. I have various openings. So far I've filled no places. Here's the opening bit, which is all I've written. Tell me if you wish to be in it. No guarentees, mind :-D :
The windswept night in a lonely part of London was not the beginning. But it was a beginning. Along one sodden street, a man walked, slowly, so as to attract no attention. He huddled under his coat, sharp eyes surveying the door opposite him. He sighed. However long he looked, he would always be at the disadvantage. He nodded, and only someone looking very closely would have noticed the shake of his hands.
He was nervous. It was not an emotion he was used to. Yet when you dealt with the people he was about to, he had every right. That didn’t make him feel any better. He pulled a Beretta from his belt and kicked the door open. Silence. The shrouds of darkness added to the wells of fear inside him.
“ Who are you?” One voice said, cold even in this freezing temperature. I
“ The walking style...one used to hardship.” The next voice put a harsh tone on the word.
“ What do you want?”
The figure clenched a fist, tightly. A shadow moved, slowly. Nothing but inperceptable murk.
“ I was…given this address. By a friend.”
“A friend?” a tone of amusement edged the voice.
The figure said nothing. Abruptly, a faint light flicked on. Two figures sat at the other end of the room, faces still in gloom.
“ Well. What do you want?” repeated the second figure. The first figure steeped his figures.
The new figure dropped a case on the floor. He shoved it towards them with a toe. They didn’t move.
“What is your name?”
“ For now, you will know me as Mr S.”
No reply from the silent duo.
“ It’s got no explosives.” Mr S said.
Silence. The one called Mr S sighed, and reached down to open the case. In a flash, the two moved.
--
Twill be a while, it'll be long.
Cheers, Stryke.
The windswept night in a lonely part of London was not the beginning. But it was a beginning. Along one sodden street, a man walked, slowly, so as to attract no attention. He huddled under his coat, sharp eyes surveying the door opposite him. He sighed. However long he looked, he would always be at the disadvantage. He nodded, and only someone looking very closely would have noticed the shake of his hands.
He was nervous. It was not an emotion he was used to. Yet when you dealt with the people he was about to, he had every right. That didn’t make him feel any better. He pulled a Beretta from his belt and kicked the door open. Silence. The shrouds of darkness added to the wells of fear inside him.
“ Who are you?” One voice said, cold even in this freezing temperature. I
“ The walking style...one used to hardship.” The next voice put a harsh tone on the word.
“ What do you want?”
The figure clenched a fist, tightly. A shadow moved, slowly. Nothing but inperceptable murk.
“ I was…given this address. By a friend.”
“A friend?” a tone of amusement edged the voice.
The figure said nothing. Abruptly, a faint light flicked on. Two figures sat at the other end of the room, faces still in gloom.
“ Well. What do you want?” repeated the second figure. The first figure steeped his figures.
The new figure dropped a case on the floor. He shoved it towards them with a toe. They didn’t move.
“What is your name?”
“ For now, you will know me as Mr S.”
No reply from the silent duo.
“ It’s got no explosives.” Mr S said.
Silence. The one called Mr S sighed, and reached down to open the case. In a flash, the two moved.
--
Twill be a while, it'll be long.
Cheers, Stryke.