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Dead Man Walking

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  00:21:13  2 January 2012
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sgt.davis44
Scared shitless by Bloodsuckers
(Resident)

 

 
On forum: 04/16/2010
 

Message edited by:
sgt.davis44
01/02/2012 1:22:10
Messages: 530
Dead Man Walking

Ok, so this isn't really S.T.A.L.K.E.R per se.. but follows along those lines. Please tell me what you think and whether I should continue writing it!

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Chapter I - Preview

I shouldn't have stopped walking. I shouldn't have stopped moving. I shouldn't have stopped thinking. I let my mind go, and with that I lost the battle. The throbbing semi-surrealistic pain shooting up from my feet suddenly became excruciatingly tense. Frantically I looked around for a safe place to rest. The road cracked and broke out infront of me, right next to it lies the old aqueduct. The trickling water and seemingly good protection from the reeds was and still is fatally attractive. Many a person had found their death there, and in this world, there was no such thing as life insurance or funeral plans. The best you could manage was a couple of dogsstrolling hungrily by. A gruesome thought, but yet. Nobody seemed to learn the lesson. And yet I found myself mesmerisingly stumbling towards it. I needed the rest and the water! I noticed a new pain as I walked down the slightly natural embankment. The concrete was filled with small sharp shell-like objects. They stuck to the concrete like their life depended on it, and it did. You often had to pry them loose with a knife or machete. Their taste was devine. Probably one of the best out here, and with their abundance the price shared this quality. Their brains have a taste almost akin to bone marrow. But it isn't all rosy glory brain dishes. The tips contained a poison, which was excreted from a small gland above it's brain. It could be easily removed, but if any of it gets on your skin... You're either a dead man, or a dead man walking at the very least. I cursed. My shoes had gone. Found their own new feet. When or how I lost them I don't know. It's too late anyway. I can see a faint trickle of red goo oozing from my feet as I sit down. The poison makes the blood clot. A rather false image of hope I'd say. I put my backpack down beside me. Opened the zip and fumbled around for my reserve water bottle. The water seemed clear and fresh, the reeds filtering most of the solid waste. Funny, way back before everything went to the way it is now, the town had received it's "Blue Drop Status", just as the 2010 World Cup started. Rumours had it that a nearby mine had dumped radioactive waste in the river and had contaminated it. Ironic that it's probably cleaner now than it was then. I capped the bottle shut, put it away and while sitting there realisation of what had just happenned dawned on me. Suddenly my sense came alive, I could feel pringling on the soles of my feet, I could smell the blood and algae, I could hear my own screams for a elease from the nightmare.

I spent the rest of the day walking down that damned road. My progress was a slow anguish. My mind a battlefield of emotions. I didn't need any trouble. The world around me seemed to understand that and kept itself at bay. The sun was at the end as I reached the 'Tea-crossing'. Aptly named as a stop over for tired souls venturing in the area. It had a secondary purpose as an observation post for 'Gimnasium'. The largest of the habitable safe zones where survivors gathered and lived. The crossing was relatively small, some sandbags provided cover for the so-called garrisson. The traffic light poles were used to construct a small lookout tower, an unsturdy one-man-only thing. But it served its purpose well. A small wooden stall stood in the centre on rusty wheels and dried tires. This is where the tea was served from. Behind this was the back-end of a truck. Now used as the sleeping quarters. Beyond that lay a machine gun with it's arc covered by two guys with guns. What those guns were I didn't know. Some second rate crap produced in the armoury. The post mainly served to cover the field and the river. Where attacks usually come from. Rarely human. Mostly mutants came from there. It was dangerous going through that way. To the left, the road curved around and over the river, this was patrolled and the safest way to get beyond the river's barrier and to 'Church'. To the right the road went straight down into town. The mall's and business district used to lie there. It still served partly as that, traders and machinists, mechanics, Guns-for Hire. They're all there if you follow the signs correctly. I fell down into one of the couches. They somehow managed to keep the cushions soft and comfy. The woodwork creaked at the weight of me, and luckily my kit, though. I ordered some tea, traded it for some of those shells I stepped on. Shit! I stepped on them... I couldn't believe I was so naive and ignorant. I tried to comfort myself by relishing the thought that I was just delusional and thirsty. But it didn't matter anyway... I'd be dead in five days. Whether I liked it or not. Going against tradition, a scruffily dressed "waiter" brought the tea and placed it on the table.
"We're out of milk and sugar" He said ironically. His voice deep and rumbling.
I managed a smile but... Looking at this man, with his healthy body, his R4 Rifle slung over his back, a black beard sprouting from the tough poker-faced skin. I couldn't help but burst a tear. I quickly wiped my face, I didn't want to lose it right there and then now did I?

The rules said that you weren't allowed to camp inside the post itself, you had to put up your tent outside the barriers, a small town of its own had eveloped there. About a dozen tents and shacks and covered sleeping bags filled a small space. The patch of ground was cordoned off with some barbed wire. Which, in reality, wouldn't do much. There was barely a centimetre left, so I picked a clean corner and flipped open my one-man tent. It's one side had a rip in, quite a story on it's own. For another time. I traded it for a bunch of ammo and food from a guy at Church. Must've suffered from the same illness as me. Didn't need it anymore. Or he decided to settle down. Either way I ended up with it, which makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. I almost feel proud of myself. No one else's shelter comes even close to my fancy little tent. I hastily hammered down the four corners. Set up my gas lamp, spread my mattress and blanket. I had some meat in my pack. Only a day old. Sealed in a zip-lock bag. I put on the field stove and poured two cuts into the my little frying pan. It smelled great!
"Fancy some salt?" a voice said. I quickly looked up. My cheeks flushed red and I quickly stared back into the pan. Some of the fat had started boiling and spattered around everywhere. Once well done, I grabbed a fork and started munching away. The meat was tender, but had a long tendon running through it. I battled it with teeth and tongue for a while before giving up and going around it. I got up and went to the sink next to the stall. They had a big JoJo tank full o water with a gas geiser. So the water was warm. I washed the pan and cutlery and my batterred face. On returning to the tent I settled down on the mattress, zipped the zip and closed my eyes. The sounds of the night haunted my dreams more and more. The very creatures I was hearing now would soon be feeding on me. It was an unimaginably dreadfull thought!
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  13:28:14  8 March 2012
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Major Stalker
Senior Resident
 

 
On forum: 08/16/2010
Messages: 202

---QUOTATION---
Dead Man Walking

Ok, so this isn't really S.T.A.L.K.E.R per se.. but follows along those lines. Please tell me what you think and whether I should continue writing it!

snip
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---END QUOTATION---



spelling is good, sentence structure not bad, but the wall-o-text thing is a bit daunting.

Carrage returns cost noting and make the reading easiers...but not sure if the board software makes this difficult.

Otherwise, you should keep on with this, definitely...or maybe, if the problem is a mechanical issue, there is fanfiction.com...
  17:08:27  11 March 2012
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sgt.davis44
Scared shitless by Bloodsuckers
(Resident)

 

 
On forum: 04/16/2010
Messages: 530
Thanks @Major.

I'm not a professional writer so I'm not sure exactly when and where to use them.

And having this entire section without dialog... The rest won't be like this. He will rarely be completely alone again, easier to write with dialog. But it was necessary.
  19:20:50  25 March 2012
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PeterPeng
(Novice)
 
On forum: 03/23/2012
 

Message edited by:
Don Reba
03/25/2012 19:25:46
Messages: 17
Good writing,thank you!!


Avoid overquoting, please.

Don Reba
 
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