Hey, I hope nobody minds my use of the forums at this time. I don't mean for this to be an inconvenience :). But hey, stress test, right?
Story 16 (Long Shadows)
Glints of piercing white, unnatural, nonuniform. So strange, almost new to his eyes. Though it was like music. Something unnaturally natural in this place. Things moving. People, he had to wonder, could it be people? Was his mind playing tricks? He stepped closer, feeling the metal door with his covered hand. He put his ear as close as he could, rattling. He tried the knob, nothing... Locked.
"Try around the corner!" he heard from inside. People! Delusional mirage?
He only saw one more entrance, a fire escape. He went to it, gave a tug. It gave.
He was enveloped in a maze of tarps, clear plastic and tents. It was an airlock. A makeshift, plastic airlock. Humans find a way, supposedly.
He made his way in, there were three lock rooms. At the end of the system, a man in a real hazmat gave him a once over. He was waved, a gesture of "okay, go".
Also, yay! There are now two pages!
Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)
The room seemed fine to Chris. He left his pack next to the bed, then got in. It wasn't long before he was asleep.
He felt sluggish, the air was warm. He could barely move. His head hurt, and the world had a faint red tint. He wasn't in the bed, he was standing. A fridge, full of food. This is his apartment before The Dark. The air was moving in a visible flow, first left, then right. He suddenly felt like he was falling, there was screaming and...
He saw it all. Not his life as it was, but as it should be. Faces he had never met, but knew. Conversations that should have been. He was in a a free fall, and the air was getting colder. Bright flashes of light tore the world apart, and the screaming stopped, turning into a whisper. Faint, it echoed. He didn't know what it had begun to say, but it was important and he knew. His headache, an orchestra in his head grew steadily louder now until he felt like he was going to explode.
It was gone, the light stayed and he felt like he was among company. Among family and friends. He could hear them praying for him in his head, but he couldn't hear the words. His stomach lurched, he felt like he was going to vomit a canon ball. He thought that, just for a moment, he could see another world. He could see light radiating from behind like an eclipse and
It was over.
He woke up before the sun had cast its first rays.
Chris got his pack, and started making his way out of the building. He didn't feel rushed, he felt motivated. He felt among company. The man who was presumably in his mid forties looked up from a book he was reading. Battles of Mid-Century Europe.
"So you're alive, I was beginning to have my doubts," he said to Chris, "so what did you see in there? What did he try to do? Did he th"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Chris said plainly, and he left the room. The people watched him as he left. He was gone, and he probably wouldn't come back.
I'm feeling a bit 'out of the writing square' tonight. I may scrap this bit later... Maybe I'll keep the dream part. I don't know!
**NOTE TO SELF**
Remember to add this to the text file and google doc!
Vincent had always wondered how they had managed to upgrade themselves. Make themselves more human like. Maybe it had something to do with their modular structure. They were made that way for easy maintenance, but it meant illegal parts could be easily fixed onto the chassis. It had obvious signs of welding, holding the human-like limbs in place at their connecting points above the joint pieces. The machine was all white, like a bleached skeleton. Even had the structure of one. Its torso piece had metal re-enforcers on it, like ribs. And Vincent could see the inner workings of the machine. All machines were required to be made with a fluid interior wiring system that would be impossible to replace, that way they could be dispatched easily, but illegal parts used mainly solid interior wiring. The downside was that those pieces weren't as reliable, and were prone to power faults. If one part of the wire broke, the system failed. However, in a fluid system, that part would just be replaced, but that meant leaks were very dangerous.
This particular machine was using a fluid interior wiring system for its limbs, so maybe it wasn't all that illegal. Regardless, it still tried doing harm to him, and had indeed damaged property.
There was a pop from the machines head. One of the eyes lost its blue rings, and started flashing orange. It was in need of repair, no doubt damaging on of the liquid interior wires leading to that eye. That was the only damage to the machine Vincent could see at a quick glance, but it was hardly the only damage. Like a real human, most of the damage would be internal... Mostly to the wiring, but some microchips that controlled limb function would be going out now. They all had a backup source in the limb, but those didn't last long.
On a closer inspection, the machine was riddled with many small holes on the surface of its torso, at least five. Vincent guessed that there may be more on the back, judging by how the machine had fallen. The holes were pretty small, too small even for small arms fire. Maybe if someone had a very high psi BB gun, but pellets would have just bounced off. Vincent guessed that it was probably puncture damage, maybe from a campfire skewer.
New story, yay! It's always nice to take a break, and I've had this idea floating around for a little while.
Whoa! I just read through this and saw that pretty major first to third person switch. :D I didn't mean to do that, but I guess it works.
I started up the engine. I could feel the power as the whole car gained a small shutter. Jessica waved goodbye, and I gave the same gesture. Although I doubted Jessica's father cared about my wave. He smiled and went inside. I gradually picked up speed on the road. We stayed well within the limits. Jessica knew where we were going.
I stopped the car, made sure it wouldn't start rolling. I honestly doubted it would anyway, given that we where in a mostly flat field. Barely any trees here, but one stood out. It wasn't really all that special in terms of appearance, but it had memory value. No, we didn't meet there... well, it wasn't where we first met. We had never really gone on a 'date' date. Mostly just walks, even a little camping trip once. But it had really all kicked off when I had shown here the tree. It was where I'd go to be alone. Where I went when Granddad got diagnosed. People say that being alone doesn't help sadness, but it did help me. I had to work things out in my head for myself.
It was the second to last day before school started up again. We'd both be seniors. To be completely honest, I hadn't known Jessica existed until I had bumped into her despite us going to the same school. She was working at the library, pretty low pay and pretty boring. Her words. I needed some books for studying, being that the next school year was coming up, and she just so happened to be in the same row as me. I said hi, she said hi. And the rest is history, as they say.
We sat against the old oak. Long before I had met Jessica I had named the tree. I called him Big Nickolas. No reason. We watched as the sky turned a deep orange and red. The sun was a big, blurry ball in the distance. Memories like these are meant for the young, something to remember when you're old. I wanted this to be a beautiful memory, for Jessica. I wanted so much to ask her, but I knew it was too soon. Far too soon. But memories like these are meant to be remembered, something nice for the future. There'd always be next year. And if that wasn't the right time, the year after that. I didn't care how many beautiful memories I'd have to make to convince her, they'd all be beautiful. Something to remember.
Story 20 (Rusting)
Huzza! We finally made it to story number twenty! **CUE FIREWORKS**
No? Only me? Oh well, I like writing anyway. :)
Few words were exchanged about the following school year that would take place in a few months. The first two teens were Nick and Mason, both where going to be sophomores this year. The other three where Justin, Ashley and Matt... In that order. Nobody liked bringing up the topic of getting older, but when it was brought up it was followed by the fantasized dreams they all had. They all hoped to keep in contact, but it was beginning to seem that even if they really tried, they would eventually split up. For one thing, there was an age gap. Maybe it would become easier over time, but the difficulty spike of keeping their relationship short term would be very large. This led to what they called the "silent pact".
It basically ran down to this. Next summer would be the best, because it would the second to last. Under no circumstance may anyone in the group reveal plans for that summer concerning the group. Also, if anyone was questioned after the fact, nothing would be told.
And so the school year passed by. Nobody flunked anything, which was an outstanding feat. Maybe they were maturing, but that seemed unlikely. It could have just as easily been a ploy to get everyone off their backs for the summer. Who knows?
Nice short stories, really makes you think about life, but a few of them don't seem to have a proper message/plot/etc. This just some shit I experienced
So after surviving a while I had started to work on this amazing idea...a thing I like to call my "arsenal". The cryo facility is the most looter-proof structure as far as I knew, so there really was no better place to think of building. The town right next to it would be the one place I can really call "home". So I started to work. And by work, I mean scavenge. I sold anythin of value to the local Natives that had their own post-apocalyptic fort. Plus the bow and arrow absolutely dominates 2/3 of all others in terms of fighting power. But that aint what I'm after...I am after the heat. I scavenge and buy as much ammunition as I could. My loadout changed from Warclub&Bow to Spear&Bow, and nobody could stop me. That is until I nearly got destroyed by a cocky DMC guard. Long story short,I limped to my arsenal, and ghillied up for war. Dogman's fur coat, Gas mask, All black errything, like a true Lone Ranger. Holding a revolver,shotty, and a sniper rifle on the shoulder, I was strapped for these wasteland bastards. "Stop playin, I'm hot man, I don't wanna hold your casket, quit now before you blow a gasket"... the cannibals, Enfield mutants, and diseased cultists all fell to the blasts. After I stepped out of a cottage after forcing a looter to surrender all his shit, I started to get extremely cocky. Lo and behold, a pack of dogmen. Like Walker Texas Ranger or Clint Eastwood I blasted these bitches. I definitely am running on borrowed time at this point, and the claw marks on my skin tell a tale on their own. It was too late when I had realized a fatal flaw, and in the wake of chaos I not only ran out of ammo but fuel. I ate berries and mushrooms and drank blasted swamp water. I felt like the Terminator...until I started to get mobbed out of nowhere. I thought the city could help. I fled immediately, sick, starving, parched, and weaponless. I had my revenge, but at what cost... eventually a DMC guard found me before I could get to the city's hospital. The city knew I had killed some of their own and wanted my blood, but they knew I wasnt going without a fight. DMC soldiers rushed and I could only but pistol whip them...of course until they blast me like Tony Montana. Before I lay down and prepare to move on from life, I- not filled with rage; but with sadness, think upon how many lives I have taken...and now is my time?? This is how they felt? They deserved it more than me, and that's how it goes. Oh damm. Before they finish me I take a few swigs of whiskey and take a few pills. Opiates,hydrocodone, well none of that shit matters to a dead man. I lived as I die, a tragic hero...
BLASTED out of life; Like a CHAMP
Survivalists be LIT
Thanks for posting! I've been waiting for someone else to post a story here. A bit large to be without a spoiler though. The main reason I use them is to organize better, and keep down the usage of space per page.
Sorry for cutting this short, I have something to do. I'll finish it later.
I will not finish this later.
Jerold made his rounds, first he checked the water pressure of his apartment. He liked calling it that, but it was like all the others. It was a fake room made of fake walls made to emulate something lost. Next he checked the power usage of his 'apartment', nothing out of the ordinary there. Everything nominal on the home-front. Now he could make his way to breakfast. The 'mayor', who was really just a glorified underground mole dictator, had recently made the decision that all major meals would be held in the cafeteria. It hadn't been seeing much use prior to this, although almost all events were held there.
Jerold grabbed a red tray off of the mobile rack, stepping into line to get whatever was left of last nights canned surprise. He was pretty sure it was some kind of pasta, but it only looked like pasta. It was pretty bland, probably had to be disinfected so nobody would get sick. Whatever the case, nobody had gotten sick, so it couldn't have been too bad when they opened it. He moved with the line, wanting to get out as quickly as he could.
He took a seat in no place in particular. You don't exactly make friends as the local inspector, especially when your pre-determined job includes writing up anyone who's gone over their allotted limits. But Jerold always thought he had it good; he could have been placed in a much worse job.
Jerold was making his way home, it wasn't really a hard days work. His job was really quite relaxed. Regardless of if he was relaxed or not, he still got home pretty late. Of all the things he hated about the shelter, the walk home was the worst. He had to walk through a ghost town, filled with homes that might as well be the same aside from the occupant labeling. Signs on the outer walls that told everyone where everyone else lived. There where some people about, mostly the 'night' shift maintenance staff.
The was a common interest between Jerold and the 'night' shift. Rip it off like a band aid, and don't make eye contact. Jerold thought that came as a common rule though, between the 'day' and 'night' shift workers. They had mirrored schedules, with the exception that the 'night' shift workers had everything much later. Things seemed a little more tense that 'night' though, maybe it was because the new 'mayor' was a 'day' shifter... Maybe it was because they had to endure a new round of canned surprise.
Reclined on his couch, one of the few luxuries he was allowed, he tuned into the Shelter Comedy. He didn't know why the shelter had televisions, just that it was also another luxury he and his fellow sheltered had. He was glad that in the absence of above ground comedy, the shelter still managed to keep up the pace. There were only a few actors in the shelter, but they somehow managed to keep three shows on air... or maybe it was in ground? Didn't matter. Jerold just had to make sure he didn't watch more than a few episodes.
So Jerold sat there on his couch, wondering what year it really was. Wondering why he was nearing twenty two, and how the bunker doors could possibly stay closed that long. He wanted to know how bad it was outside, if they could ever actually leave. He knew quite a bit more than the average man and or woman down here though. He got know a bit about the stockpile once, that was when he was eighteen... Back when he thought the doors would open any day now.
Jerold's eighteen, working as a 'night' shift custodian. Custodian meant a little more than cleaning though, it meant maintenance as well. It meant making sure everything was in order. And tonight he had the pleasure of fixing up the kitchen. Some cook had managed to spill some canned surprise, it was new at the time of course... everyone thought the doors would open any day now. Anyhow, some other cook saw the mess and called him over. The cook who had spilled the beans, or what looked like beans, was in the middle of a heated conversation with his superior. Jerold overheard a little. Something about the new canned surprise. Something about wastefulness, and something about how he should be careful with the limited resources they had. Limited. Sure, they were in a massive bunker with more than just a few hundred people, but limited gave off a bad vibe. Something sinister, but more like something that cooks superior- and maybe the cook himself -knew about, and definitely wanted to keep quiet.
Meanwhile, on his couch, Jerold couldn't help but wonder if that man was still a cook. But he also wondered why he still had to eat canned surprise at every meal.
Freshman year, first period algebra class. My teacher, whom I've only had one other time, has decided to do a class review of our first homework assignment. Nobody agrees with his teaching method, not the students anyway.
"Table four, would you please present problem fifteen?" Not so much a question but a demand, I already knew I wouldn't get along with this class. I'd get a B+, but that didn't mean we got along. Regardless, I was table four. Along with me was my table mate, who's name was either Lucas or Logan. Something with an 'L'. We get up to the whiteboard, I grab a marker. I take off the cap and make sure it can write- this particular teacher hadn't replaced his whiteboard markers. It could write.
"So, table four," He made sure to never call us by name, not yet, "What can you tell me about this equation just by looking at it?"
I took a glance, and began to write when the teacher interrupted me, "Why not give your partner a try?"
He made a little gesture to Logan- or maybe it was Lucas. I gave over the marker, stepping aside as my partner got closer to the board. "What is the vertex of this equation?", asked the teacher.
"Well, I," My partner began, "I'm not really so sure,"
"Try it, because you do know the material," He said, "I looked over your notebook this morning,"
"I'm not sure how to..."
"Yes, you are, what's the vertex?"
My partner pointed to the A value on the board, a six.
My partner proceeded to point at values. He truly didn't know what the vertex was. He had, in fact, done some very elegant cheating. He had asked the group behind us, and all the while he hadn't noticed that the teacher was watching. Listening. Planning a punishment that was pure evil, but perfectly legal. He reminded me of my sixth grade English teacher.
I knew the answer. I was about to answer the question when the teacher stopped me. "No, he knows this, I know he does and so does he,"
This was cruel. It was insane. It was also a waste.
This dragged on for ten minutes. A near eternity was more accurate in my shoes, and possibly those of my partner, but he wouldn't admit that. Throughout the whole ordeal, though, I could feel sweat forming. I knew my head was turning red, and I knew my hands were in fists. I could feel my nails sinking into the palms of my hands. It was as if he was not punishing my table partner who had cheated, but me. All because I was his table partner.
The tension was lifted when a student at the back of the room, taking the opportunity of the teacher turning his head to look at my partner, to blurt out the answer. My table partner immediately wrote it down. Our teacher didn't question it, just gave a wave of his hand. A signal for us to go sit down.
I turned onto my side. The ache had grown, not shrunk. But it was warm now, the room, quite warm. Despite the growing pain in my head, I was allowed a nights rest. I figured it was well deserved.
"Too much is too much," I told myself. Nobody near me, so it's okay to speak to myself. I put down my book. A hefty 600 pager written by some novelist who's name I dare not pronounce or even contemplate- authors tend to have either the easiest names to remember, or what is essentially a paper shredder name. Maybe the extra letters gave their words more strength; maybe I didn't care enough to find out. So I've read more than 120 pages, and I have to stop. That feeling in the back of my head is coming back around. Maybe one day I'd learn to just read a few pages, but I doubted it. I'm a big bookworm, and no amount of crazy, pulsating pain was going to stop me.... Unless it literally stopped me.
It's not a school day, thank God or whatever creator there is for also creating weekends. I wouldn't have to worry about any assignments, either; I'd just taken major tests in all of my classes. So it's safe to say the feeling in my head was there before I started reading.
AND... Deep breath.
The Official (not really) Upon Boredom Episodic Story!
Kirby Vipond waited outside the trading post, an old grocery store from before everything went wrong. He leaned against the old stonework, waiting for the stranger to exit. He couldn't hear the conversation, the haggle, as goods and no doubt muttered curses exchanged. But he knew it would be just about over, and that's when he would ask the stranger the question. And now there was the light thudding of boots as the stranger exited the building.
Francis DeRoug: "Kid, I don't know what you want, but you best keep your distance."
Kirby Vipond: "What? No, I'm not gonna try to sell you anything. I was just lookin to ask a question."
Francis DeRoug, annoyed but not angry, let the kid continue. He had time to kill anyway. Too late in the day to safely scavenge, besides, he had responsibilities.
Kirby Vipond: "Do you ever need... Help, out there? And extra pair of hands, or some fresh eyes to watch your back?"
Francis DeRoug: "Listen kid, and I mean only a little offense here, fresh eyes are not good for my particular line of work. As for an extra pair of hands, no. I already have two."
Even though he had just said no to the kids offer, Francis DeRoug knew he would be followed. He could see it in the kids eyes. That determination that, if given the right tool, could start wars.
The Official (not really) Upon Boredom Episodic Story! 2
They sat at a booth inside an old diner. The diner was what amounted to a general store, but it served as a diner as it had long ago. Perhaps it wasn’t as nice as it had been then, but it beat eating out in the open. The booths also made great meeting places, most people tended to mind their own business, but there would be gossip. ‘Oh yes, that wastrel fellow. The one who just came to town. So and so saw him with those men that have that little communication project’, they would no doubt say. However, that was of little note.
Richard: “You’re sure it works?”
Francis: “I found it in the middle of nowhere, but do you want it or not?”
Richard: “If it doesn’t work, then no. Jason, we’re wasting our time here,”
Jason: “We’ll take it, how much?”
Richard: “What? If this doesn’t work, I mean, we only have one shot at this. Two tops,”
Jason: “This is the only one I’ve seen, and if you suddenly decide you know how to build a radio, then by all mean walk away from this,”
Richard didn’t leave. He didn’t look comfortable in this situation, but yes, he saw the point. Maybe they had few chances, but how long between those chances. Could it be just a day? A month? How many years of famine or drought would they have to live through before the next chance came to purchase a device like this.
Francis: “I need food, but you already told me why you need the radio. So how about we make a deal? It’s getting colder, close to December now, right? Well, I need a place to stay, I also need my gear to be in good shape for when I leave,”
Jason: “The repairing we can do, but I don’t know about any housing,”
Francis sighed, it wasn’t the best offer, but it was close enough. He’d be staying in town regardless, on account of the weather, and his gear was in desperate need of repair. His boots were falling apart, and his knife was chipped and would need to be replaced entirely. And this wasn’t even scratching the surface. He had a kid with him.
Jaso: “Alright, you can have the radio,”
It was a cold November night, coldest that Luis had ever witnessed up to that point. It seemed odd to think at the time, but that December would be oddly warm. Early winter and early spring. But that’s later, much later. His breath hung in the air, a whirl of fog in front of his eyes. Maybe it really was time to move away from this place, looking at it from the right angle let you see all the flaws. The homes were all from an older time, a time not too forgotten, but long enough ago for the last remnants to be in their later years. All that time was incubation for decay and deformation. Entire walls had been replaced by mud and clay brick, roofs had hay and moss in attempt to stop the rain and snow from getting in. Luis had heard of gran places where people still knew how to build, how to reconstruct from decay. But he had heard such places were far away, in the East. But in the East was the coast, not the salt coast, although that lay in the East, it was much further than the stories he had heard. This was the fresh coast, where you could dip a pot into the water and drink. He often wondered if such places really existed though, and so he sought knowledge. He had hoped of finding it through Thomas, on a map, but Casey was right. That’s when he saw the kid, the one with the traveling merchant.
Luis: “Hey! Hey!”
The child, though now he appeared to be a young man, didn’t turn to respond. Luis walked closer. Once close, he tugged the sleeve of the young man’s coat.
Niles Corwin: “Oh, uh. Hey. You need something?”
Luis: “I just have some questions,”
Niles Corwin: “Okay, shoot I guess,”
Niles Corwin: “Like with a gun, you’ve never seen a gun, have you?”
Luis waved this away, it wasn’t important.
Luis: “First, what’s your name. Second, how far East have you been?”
Niles Corwin: “Niles Corwin, and why do you want to know that?”
Niles Corwin: “Are you one of those fools who thinks there’s some kind of salvation to the East? Well, sorry to break it to you, but no. The East is as bad as here,”
Luis: “Then why are there stories? Surely there’s something to the East better than this,”
Niles Corwin: “Maybe, but probably not,” Niles smiled, “But probably not,”
They talked for a while, until Francis came out and got Niles.
Episode 3 preview!
The Official (not really) Upon Boredom Episodic Story! 3
Rays of light could only just barely penetrate the curtain of what Francis was now calling his home. Only he never outright said that, no. Never. Francis was always on the move, but that was a thought always on his mind. He had a kid, he knew first hand that this kind of behavior- the constant moving -was bad for him, for both of them. But the world is a dangerous place, if you stop too long you can’t ever tell what might happen. Sometimes you see the people around you become ill, sometimes it’s not illness that gets them. But this place seemed good enough… But don’t they all at first? Take the kid in front of Francis, for instance. Sure, maybe he was really just worried about his brother, but maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he didn’t have a brother at all. That was unlikely though, Francis had seen the other kid with his own eyes.
Casey: “So you and your boy came from the East?”
Francis: “Yeah, the East is bad right now, had to get away,”
Casey gestured to the room opposite of the one they were in, which was an old living room. It was connected to the kitchen, Casey was gesturing to one of the two bedrooms.
Casey: “Where’s his mother?”
Francis: “You go around poking into other people’s business? Because I’d rather not tell you,”
Casey: “So he ain’t got a mother then?”
Francis: “No, he doesn’t,”
Casey: “Alright, and you’re okay with him being around my little brother?”
Francis: “I see no harm,”
It wasn’t a lie. Francis really didn’t think they could get into much trouble around here, and if things did turn South… Well, it was still a smaller town.
Niles was lying on what was presumably his bed. It was badly made, but when you live on the road, making your bed isn’t a priority. Honestly, it still wasn’t. He was reading a book, something from the old world, badly torn and burnt in some spots. He marveled at it. It was a work of genius, yet you could see the marks of use. A stain here, a rip there. Had the people of the old world really no regard for these? Not that it mattered, or that he would ever likely find out. That was the past, and the past ate itself from within, and used up all its oxygen like a fire. And again, like a fire, it left little behind. Nothing but charred ruins and ruined cultures. This book had no cover, but Niles knew what it was called, knew the author, too. Hearts in Atlantis, though Niles didn’t know the significance of Vietnam, or what Atlantis was- maybe some place to the East, but the East was bad. Nothing in the East.
There came a tap from his window, light but audible.
A muffled voice asked, “Niles?”
Niles went to the window, peering out into the lazily drifting day.
Niles looked over at Luis. Casey, Luis’ brother, was meeting with his father. He didn’t care to know the details of that conversation.
Luis: “You know what they’re talking about?”
Niles: “No, don’t much care, either,”
Luis: “You should, it might be important,”
Niles: “If it’s news from the East, I already know it,”
Luis: “Not that kind of important, I’m pretty sure they’re talking about you,”
Niles: “And why would they be doing that?”
Luis: “My brother doesn’t trust you, I think,”
Niles: “Well shoot, I was hoping to make a good first impression,”
Luis looked confused.
Luis: “There you go again with ‘shoot’, what does it even mean?”
Niles still didn’t care to explain this, but he did anyways. It was better than letting Luis be confused half the time they spoke. “Like with a gun, or anything that launches something. Like what some people do. In this case, though, it’s just an expression,”
Luis: “What kind of expression?”
Niles: “It means something along the lines of ‘darn, isn’t this just a pickle’,”
Niles was about to leave what Luis spoke again.
Luis: “What about when it isn’t an expression?”
Niles: “Some people kill other people by shooting them, it’s like throwing a rock really hard. Hard enough to go through the skin,”
Luis stared back blankly, then asked the question Niles hadn’t expected. He was expecting a “How do you know that?” or a “have you done that?”. Instead he got an “Okay,”.
Niles: “‘Okay’ what?”
Luis: “Some people shoot each other, okay,”
But Luis didn’t look okay. He looked shocked.
Episode 4 preview!
Hey everyone! If you're reading this, thanks. I'd really like to make this a fully fledged story, and keeping a every-Tuesday schedule is really helping. If you want to suggest anything, though, feel free to do so. It's as much your story as it is mine- it is, after all, happening in some form of the Neo Scavenger universe. Thanks for reading!
Sorry for cutting out a section of this episode, I couldn't find the time to do so, and it didn't really fit in this episode anyways.
The Official (not really) Upon Boredom Episodic Story! 4
The moon cast its light glow, sending shadows to extend into the darkness. It was Luis and Casey, sitting outside. It was a cold night, by all reasoning they should have been inside. Luis looked over to Casey, his breath plumed and caught in the cold night air, a wispy cloud rising above their heads.
Luis: “Do you know what it’s like… Out there, in the waste?”
Casey: “No, I never went very far out there,”
Luis: “What’s it like, the parts you saw?”
Casey: “It’s all ruin, there’s nothing out there now,”
In his last years, their father had brought Casey out into the wastes to scavenge. All of the buildings had long since been cleaned. As far as Casey knew, or wanted to say, the world was filled with dust and ash.
Casey: “Come on, we should go in and get some sleep,”
There were two men, whom by now some called engineers; compared to the those of the old world, they were nothing, but the idea kept spreading. One was slumped over in his chair, looking at a blocky device on the table. The other, older than the first, sat with his head resting chin-in-hand.
Richard: “So when are you going to do it?”
Jason: “I was thinking now,”
Richard: “We should just get this over with,”
Jason reached over, pressing the button that would, according to Francis, send a signal to all other devices of the same kind. Or, it would do that to every device on the same channel.
Jason: “Hello? This is Jason Wills, anyone on the other end of this?”
There was the sound of static, Jason sighed.
Jason: “Guess you were right, it didn’t work,”
Richard: “That’s not what I said, Jason,”
Jason was going to speak, but he was cut off. That sound of static changed. It picked up just enough for them to notice. They had just enough time to look at the machine before the voice came out.
“You’re supposed to say ‘over’, so we know you’re done talking,”
Episode 5 preview
Sorry for the wait on this episode!
The Official (not really) Upon Boredom Episodic Story! 5
Jason, Richard and many locals are moving scrap to the trade location. The location is a ruined suburb, a flagpole is flying a tarp to mark the location. There aren’t many vehicles in the town, so most residents are hauling scrap with sleds and carts.
The trading area isn’t exactly full of scrap, but by now most of the residents have joined in to help haul.
Jason and Richard are finally catching some rest, while Casey and his brother help to direct the flow of scrap. A lot of the residents have started barrel fires to keep warm. THe day is still very cold, and shows little sign of improving.
The traders finally arrive, driving an assortment of shipping vehicles. The residents have not seen anything like this before. Francis takes one look, a look that held just long enough for him to realize the true danger of this situation. Nearby, Kirby sense the danger as he looks from Francis to the traders. Jason motions to him, then turns to Niles.
Francis: “Niles, find a place to hide, now! Stay with Kirby if you can,”
Niles looks at Francis, then runs to Kirby without question. This is beginning to feel a lot like wandering the wastes again.
Francis makes a dash for the building that Jason and Richard are in, warning people as he goes, but it’s too late. A man from the caravan has gotten out of his vehicle, and is now holding a megaphone up to his mouth. The silence is turned to panic midway through his dialog.
“Everybody CALM DOWN, get in lines to board the trucks, if you resist we WILL KILL YOU,”
Men and women start running, and the stampede soon engulfs the whole crowd. THe man speaks again, and now some people are calming down enough to see that there are men with weapons surrounding them. They’ve been encircled. There is a sudden, loud rapping sound. Several men and women in the crowd collapse, screaming. There is blood everywhere, on people, on the ground. Large red streaks on the walls, and a light mist in the air. The smell is awful, but no matter how much the people run they can’t escape it. The man speaks into his megaphone again.
“Stop resisting! Lineup, and board the trucks!”
Now some really begin to comply. More men surround the crowd, slowly pushing inwards.
Francis makes it to Jason and Richard, by now the entire area is filled with screams and the sound of gunfire. It’s too late now, all they can do is get as far away as they can. He’s told them everything, and now they have to pack, now they have to run. Francis wants to stay behind, but he knows that Jason and Richard may need his help. Besides, he has to go get his gun and survival gear from his house.
As Kirby and Niles make their way back to the town, the residence are stopped at a building. It’s too dark to see much, but the building is unmistakable. It’s a warehouse, fully lit. There’s a lot of noise from the inside, yelling and cheering. It sounds like there’s a hundred motors running inside, but over all that is the music. A sign on the building, in bright red lettering, reads “Zom Zom’s”, it’s a “place to eat”. The men and women are pulled and shoved out of the trucks, none of them know what horrors wait for them inside. How could they? THe man gets back on his megaphone.
“Welcome to Zom Zom’s, boys and girls, I can’t promise you’ll like it here… But I hear you’ve been having food troubles recently, and we have some mighty fine eating,”
The Official (not really but it's chapter 2) Upon Boredom Episodic! 6 (c2e1)
The prisoners could hear their shouts as they huddled for warmth. There weren’t any cots, if you wanted to sleep you would do it on the ground. That said, nobody slept. How can you sleep when a child screams for mercy, some deathbot slashing violently at him.
Casey and Thomas, trapped, must find a way out of this place.
All to suddenly, a man entered the room. A chain link fence was the only thing separating him from the prisoners. If anyone had a weapon, they no doubts would lash out at the man. He was wearing simple coveralls, torn slightly at the bottom. They looked well kept, with only a few obvious stains. Those stains could have come from anything, and it was probably best not to consider the options. He looked around the room, turned to another man who had entered the room after him, and spoke something inaudible to the man.
“Alright,” he turned back to the prisoners, “We’re gonna have some fun,”. He took a long look at the prisoners, then raised a hand. “Those two,”
The man who had entered after him took a step forward, into the light where he was more visible. He was wearing protective padding, and held a cattle prod in his right hand. Before he could get to the gate, the first man spoke again. “That one, too. Let’s put on a show to keep ‘em coming.”. The man proceeded to the gate, fiddling with some keys before finally getting the gate open. The prisoners huddled closer, trying to protect the selected, but the cattle prod made short work of any rebellious spirit. The three selected were forced out of the little gated area, then presumably escorted to the arena.
“If you’re lucky, your meals will be here shortly. If at all. We do have a large crowd today,” Said the man in coveralls.
An older man at the back of the crowd spoke up in protest, “I have no desire to eat my fellow man, let alone my companions and friends,”
There were murmurs from the crowd, some supportive, some were desperate please for the man to not act out, lest they all get punished. The man in coveralls didn’t seem to mind, though.
“When you get hungry, you’ll eat. And you look pretty hungry,” with that, he left, letting the prisoners to stew in the dark.
I'm going to start doing this over the weekend. While it means I have less time to prepare for what will hopefully be a more beefy episode 2, it also means I can stay up later revising. As it is now, I've been doing a little bit here and there, and little things keep getting past me. And honestly, I do some better work later at night. Also, just an update on me, I got sick over the holidays. I finally got better (yay!), but fell out of bed this morning due to what I can only assume was momentary vertigo. Have a nice read and night everyone!
Anyone got any ideas for Zom Zom murder bots?
The Official (not really) Upon Boredom Episodic! Chapter/Season 2! 7 (c2e2)
The most light heart-ed episode yet!
The Official (who knows) Upon Boredom Episodic! Chapter/Season 2! (c2e3)
There’s a different story being told inside, with Casey and Thomas planning their escape. But escape from this place was all around dangerous, as it should be. They could either fight the guards, and be gunned down exiting the labyrinth of guards and spectators, or they could win their freedom. Winning, the hardest and easiest path to freedom. They’d have to break the machine, but if what they planned could really happen they maybe be able to confront the bot together. A two versus one fight would give them all the advantage they might need.
The man in coveralls was back at the prisoner pen, but now they could enact their plan. Casey stepped forward, pushing past other men and women in the crowd. Thomas followed.
“Now what do we have..” the man began, but Casey cut him off.
“If you’re going to choose, you’re picking us,”
The man smiled, “Willing fodder, would ya look at that. You could all learn a thing or two from these boys!” he yelled at the crowd. “Come on now, get those two out of there.”
And so their plan had begun. The scales appeared to be tipped in their favor.
Kirby and Niles had a vague idea of the direction that Francis might be going. There was no way he’d let Niles get killed, and even less that he would allow his death after the fact to not be avenged. And so Niles told Kirby about a place. A place he had never seen, but had heard of. And now they had been walking for some time, two days, finally picking up the trail. Soon they would run into Francis, and hopefully any others that had escaped.
On the third night, they could see lights in the distance. A great glow in the East, and to the South they heard a rumbling. A constant sound. It could only be one thing.
I'll probably only write a random story for next week.
New adventure for maybe 5 or 6 parts. This will likely be spaced out a fair deal, between any posts of the Episodic. I just wanted to go for something different this week.
The Official (?) Upon Boredom Episodic! Chapter/Season 2! (c2e4)