 19:17:36 24 December 2003 |
|
Chansd5
(Senior)
On forum: 11/26/2003
Messages: 124
|
My stalker Entry - There are no blue birds in the zone
Here is my entry, I spent quite a time on this so I hope you guys will enjoy it. A tip though, when reading my story, take it slowly, this is my first attempt at such a broad story, don't rush through it, and try to use your imagination. Enjoy!
There are no blue birds in the zone -- By Sze Chun Chan
The world came back to blind me. Sunlight ruptured my eyes. The children happily sang mellifluous childhood songs. They cried out in laughter and merrily tunes. The world came back as a blur as my eyelids snapped open, the emptiness of the tin shack I laid in, the agonizing smell of rust suffocatingly caught up with my throat. I let out a violent cough. The sunlight was potent enough to peel the rust off the tin. I lay on my vinyl sheet, also my raincoat. I sat up and let out a satisfying crack as I twisted my back. The tin shack was empty but me and my things, and my new mistress, red rust.
My mouth tasted foul of last night's last can of Spam meat. I examined the tin shack again. The tiny shack was married with crimson and red-orange rust, the smell of the sharp metals in a turbine factory; it smells of my own death. The shelter did offer me protection from last night's barrage of acidic rain. Vines from a near by tree dominated the roof top and had teared a hole through the roof and the sunlight flowed vibrantly to blind my eyes. I sat up and heard the children sing. The hopscotch songs... On the edge of the town near the zone's demilitarized zone, this shack was once a guard outpost for the road only offering entrance for authorized power plant workers. I coughed again as the children laughed.
I peered outside at the window; there were no children to be found. Only the skyline of the Chernobyl power plant and the industrial town surrounding it, the grass grew dark green with contempt, the sky moved gracefully as the wind carefully whisked the soft clouds along, the smell of grass juice, the view of an alluring grassland and rolling hills, the view of unsuspecting danger, the beauty fools the eyes, the sun created a colorful sky as dawn settled in and as the wind blew, I took draft of the morning wind. The cold autumn wind washed over my face and the blur was gone. It was as good as a splash of cold water on the face on those gritty tired days. I sat up and rubbed my eyes.
I stretched my limbs and found my military surplus canteen of water, which I promptly took a light sip off. Water sustains life; it made my mouth taste less like rotting meat. Found the toothbrush. I filled my mouth of canteen water and toothpaste mixture, stuck a toothbrush in my mouth, and did my dental hygiene all in one spit. I took a shard of glass from the broken window and peered into it. In it, I saw nothing more than a hungry and tired man who grew a new beard looking for a new future, not myself. My old past in London, the zone was nothing reminiscent of it. The job search wasn't very successful after college; I can say I am a very adventurous guy for coming here. I slept through school, and barely passed college. I got into countless fights during school and nearly got booted from the school.
My father continued to send money despite that I hardly had a chance to meet him. I moved here when my little sister passed away in an automobile accident. I seldom saw my pa and ma peacefully. I would see them sometimes coming down the house stairs... but never in the same room. I heard them yell, and I would get hit sometimes. I was in the rough neighborhood, drug dealers and the bad part of town. That old banged up house next to the factories. They would be together twice during the week and all that
Love to the cool and the genuine people, the last real diplomats on earth.
|
| 19:18:25 24 December 2003 |
|
Chansd5
(Senior)
On forum: 11/26/2003
Messages: 124
|
I sat on the gravel in a corner of a rotting street and I wept. The thoughts shattering my mental fortitude. I am not sure why I had wept. My arms swept away the liquid pain. I sat up and peered around the street. No one was to be seen. The silence still lingering. I sat again and choked on my tears. I looked towards the dusk sky with bleary eyes. I let out a chuckle and smiled faintly.
A figure ran feverishly across the street. A staccato of booming automatic arms fire was heard across the street. The figure abruptly collapsed and held on to his wound with an agonizing death cry. A crimson pool quickly formed under the fresh causality. A symphony of gunfire echoed the street. An explosion rocked my brain. I sat up alerted with terror.
Automatically, for the sake of survival. I frenetically found a desk and kneeled under it. The street was in a clear view through a hole in the desk. I watched in horror as a barrage of explosions again shook my brain. The vicious gun battle occurring right across the street and I was caught up in the middle of it. Probably another rival stalker faction war. The bright phosphorous tracers screamed across the street blindly.
Bullets didn't care what it hits. I saw a squad of stalkers, labeled with green armbands with an eagle across it. The squad carefully advanced down the street and returned fire as they cautiously crept their way up a shell of a rusty car. They each had an automatic rifle, and a man with a tube strapped to his back. One of the stalkers was signaled to run across the street with cover to advance upward. The man dashed across the street to my direction, his comrades furiously firing towards an unseen enemy.
Vivid images of the rival Irish gangs back in England came into mind.
He kneeled at the corner of the store, my table a few feet from him. My heart skipped a beat. The man stuck his rifle out the street and fired 6 rounds down the street. Signaling the next man to advance up behind cover. Beads of heavy sweat leaked down my face. My gleary eyes regaining sharpness. An explosion boomed at the middle of the street. The man retaliated with a hand grenade.
He shielded his ears and kneeled as the grenade detonated. He took a step back. Slowly, he inched back, directing his rifle at the entrance. My breath is red hot, my spine was ice. I had nothing to do with stalker factions
Love to the cool and the genuine people, the last real diplomats on earth.
|
| 08:25:28 3 January 2004 |
|
Moto42
(Novice)
On forum: 01/01/2004
Messages: 19
|
Good story
"Hey Dealer, I wana buy 20 grenades and a sling-shot."
|
|
