Saturday, 29 September 2012

Decisions, Decisions...

Two story beginnings. Your choice.


The girl in the black hooded cloak sprinted down the narrow, low, metal-walled hallway, followed by two very big, very hungry, very vicious dogs.
‘Snow!’ she yelled, gasping for breath, ‘Close the door!’ her words echoed around the tight space. ‘Now!’
‘I’m trying!’ Snow’s voice snapped out of the hooded girls headset, followed by an exasperated sigh. ‘It keeps shutting me out.’
‘What about the override sequence?’ the girl suggested,  rounding a corner.
‘Don’t you think I’ve tried that?’
‘How many times?’ she replied, nearly stumbling, the dogs right on her heels.
‘Uh, once…’ Snow said meekly. The hooded girl ran onwards, silent save her heavy footfalls and breathing. Cold, blind anger was numbing her thoughts. The closer of the two canines snapped at her feet and she yelped, surging forwards.
‘If I were you, I would try it again- And I would be very, very careful to get it right.’ She rounded another corner, her red sneakers threatening to lose their grip on the smooth concrete floor. She was coming up to an open door.
‘Quickly.’ As she added this final word, her shoes finally lost all traction and she fell and rolled through the door. She relaxed as the doo swung shut with a hiss. She pulled her hood off, revealing her shoulder length, straight, brown hair. She stood and grimaced at the pair of dull thuds that were made by the dogs hitting the door and looked around the room, scouting out the teenage girl sitting at a laptop in a headset that matched her own. This girl, Snow, turned in her chair and looked at her partner, fearful. Snow was truly gorgeous, her long black curled hair complimented her pale skin, and her normal smile could melt the hearts of even the strictest adults.
‘Red…’ she trailed off.
‘Snow. Don’t start. Just, please, double check from now on. Okay?’
‘Sure. Yes. Of course.’
‘Okay, how do we get out?’
'Taken care of. Give me a sec.' Snow began packing her laptop away. 'Did you get it?' she asked. The girl named Red grinned and opened her fist. A golden pocket watch lay in her palm. She spread her fingers out and allowed the watch to fall. It jerked to a halt in midair as the chain it hung from went taught. Snow nodded and slung her laptop bag over her shoulder. She then walked to the window at the end of the room, opened it and climbed through. Red followed and blinked in surprise when her feet landed in a puddle. She was standing in the dark, in the rain.
'This day,' she muttered, pulling her hood back up again, 'Bites.'


Lance and Ayden Thatcher were born, human, twin brothers. Dark eyes, brown hair, fair skin. They grew up together, with they're parents, and the four of them were the final surviving humans of that world. Everyone else, the friends and family of the Thatchers, were gone. Not completely, but they had been changed. Lost to either side of that world's war.
When the war started, there had been three sides. The humans, the lycanthropes and the vampires. But, over time, the numbers of humans converted to either opposed side of the great battle turned the tables and very slowly the human's numbers dwindled. The vampires and the lycanthropes, or lycans, number grew, and the ferocity of battle increased, and soon it was all the humans could do to stay alive. And now, the four remaining humans were deep in their slumber, hiding from the supernatural and deadly beings that owned their once prosperous land waited and hunted for each other. The Thatcher family had ran from the war when it reached their village, and they were content to hide and believe that they were alone as a species.
As the boys grew, their physical appearances, and their personalities grew and changed. Ayden grew tall and broad-shouldered, always the one to get firewood and do heavy lifting. His hair lightened and his face was freckled. Lance was of an average height, shorter than his twin, but not so much that Ayden would be able to tower over him. His hair was black and limp, always a clump of it drooping across his face. He spent his time designing and setting traps, to catch rabbits and deer for food.
On the eve of these twins 18th birthday, Ayden was chopping firewood and Lance was recording the features of a mushroom he'd found when two creatures tumbled out of the woods and into the little clearing in which the Thatcher's house was built. There was a roar and one of them stood. He was a Lycan, and stood at least seven feet tall. He had enormous claws, which were very sharp. You could tell they were, because when he accidentally hit a tree trunk, the claw marks were so deep they reached more than halfway through the trunk. He looked around and saw Ayden and Lance, who were staring at Lycan and the vampires he had been fighting. The Lycan bounded over, picked up Ayden and leapt into a tree. Lance screamed as his brother vanished into the foliage. He whirled to face the vampire, who had also vanished. He spun, looking for her frantically. She was waiting on the roof of the house, smiling as he twirled in fear. She jumped down, landing silently behind him and paused, breathing in the scent of his terror. And then she reached out and gripped his shoulder and the side of his head, and tilted his neck to the side. As he gasped in pain, she sunk her fangs into his neck.

Okay, you're decision! Choose wisely!

Thursday, 20 September 2012


Um, this was a little 100-word thing I wrote for a writing competition at school, the theme was Gold&Silver and I'm up against people in Year 9 and 10 and...

Here you go!

The man named Gold lifted his head. He was chained to the ground, trapped in a permanent kneel by two metal clasps clamped over each of his calves. Chains connected to two tall, thick, wooden beams held up his arms relentlessly. These chains coiled around his wrists, ever-threatening to slither down his arms like pythons. His clothes indicated that he had not been there for too long. His white shirt had little dirt on it, and only the cuff of his left sleeve was torn. The knees of his pants were dusty from being against the floor and his shoes were scuffed from his futile attempt to escape that had taken place only a few hours previously. This man, the one named Gold lifted his head, a few strands of his blonde hair falling across his face and partially obscuring his view. He lifted his head because his cell door opened and his captor, Mr. Smith, walked in, his cane swinging back and forth like a pendulum as he moved. The cane was black, thin, wooden and sturdy. At the top of the cane, a shining silver globe was attached, which Mr. Smith gripped in his black leather gloves. His eyes were dark, along with his hair, which was slicked back. He wore a sharp midnight blue suit, a matching trilby and a shiny pair of black loafers. He set his cane down; making sure it was safely leaning against the wall of the small cell. He then took his gloves off, slowly and deliberately. He tucked the gloves into his right jacket pocket. He took his hat off and placed it on the top of one of the wooden beams. He then picked his cane up again. He looked at the one named Gold for a long time. So long, that Gold lost interest and lowered his head again. At this Mr. Smith sighed and rolled his eyes.
‘Gold, do you have anything to say to me?’ he asked. Gold lifted his head again, slower, chuckling softly. His golden eyes twinkled.
‘Just one little thing. Does this mean you play the game by my rules now?’ If Gold was scared or intimidated in any way, his voice certainly didn’t show it. On the contrary, he sounded confident. Like he knew something. Mr. Smith repressed a scowl.
‘Not just yet, Gold. I still have the moral high-ground.’ Mr. Smith said. Gold laughed.
‘Yes, I hate to say it, but I’ve never kidnapped and chained someone in a prison cell.’ Gold sneered up at his adversary. ‘That’s right, you stooped lower than-‘ Gold was cut off by the silver orb of Mr. Smith’s cane connecting with his chin.
‘Quiet.’ Mr. Smith said, his voice cold. Gold spat blood and giggled. It wasn’t a schoolgirl giggle, it was a dark one. It was filled with experience, and despite Gold’s young appearance, Mr. Smith knew that he had spent more time on the Earth than most. A lot more. Gold smirked up at him again.
‘Do you think you have me in your grasp, Smith? Do you really?’ Gold asked, his aplomb never failing. Their eyes met, and, for a split second, you could sense the tension between them.
‘Of course I do.’
‘Interesting.’ Gold’s tone expressed the kind of interest a child has in finding a rock. Very little, in other words. Mr. Smith himself chuckled this time.
‘What makes you think you aren’t trapped?’
‘Because you’re going to let me go.’ Gold said, lowering his gaze to the floor.
‘Oh am I? Tell me, punk,’ Mr. Smith lifted Gold’s head with the tip of his cane, ‘Why would I do that?’ Gold grinned, his teeth a disturbing pink hue from his blood.
‘Because you fear me.’ Gold beamed like this was the most exciting piece of information ever divulged. Mr. Smith's authority was lost, for only a second.  As soon as the moment of weakness came, it was gone. But a second was all Gold needed. He tilted his head back and cackled.
'You think you're so big, Smith!' he screeched. 'You think you're so upright and proper!' Gold was now laughing so hard and so loudly that he couldn't finish saying his words. Each laugh shook his body, he was sobbing from the intensity, but still he laughed. On and on, louder and louder. Slowly, little by little, Gold calmed. His head hung down, his body suspended by the chains.
'What was the word you used? Debonair? No. That's what I am.' Gold giggled, a high-pitched, mad sound. 'You called yourself civil. Tell me,' he snapped his head up, 'Does this look civil to you?' he asked quietly. Mr. Smith hesitated. Gold lunged forward, rattling the chains and making Mr. Smith recoil.
'Does it!?' he yelled. Mr. Smith slammed his cane down.
'Enough! Enough of your mind games!' Mr. Smith shouted. Gold tilted his head, an eyebrow arched.
'What's wrong Smith? Immortality not what you expected? Everyone goes mad, boy. But I- We- have time. Time to learn how to hide it.' Gold said, licking his lips. 'And once we learn how to hide our madness, we can take the world. Make it our own.'
'Be quiet, Gold.'
'You lack vision!' Gold screamed. His face had gone red, the veins on his forehead bulging out, his eyes darting back and forth, from Mr. Smith to his cane to his gloves to his hat to Mr. Smith once more. His mouth was twitching, like it was charged with electricity. A nervous laugh escaped his lips at random. Mr. Smith shook his head. He pulled his gloves back on and picked his trilby up from atop the beam.
'You were wrong. You're staying here.' Mr. Smith muttered, dusting the bottom of his hat. He placed it on his head delicately and took his cane. He reopened the door to exit the cell. He stepped through and looked back, pulling it closed.
'Before you go...' Gold said quietly, completely still. Mr. Smith stopped the door, an inch from shut.
'You play by my rules now.'

Oh yeah! I also have three questions, which I beg for you to answer.

One: Is it good?

Two: Who do you feel sympathy for at the beginning of the story?

Three: Who do you feel sympathy for at the end?

Saturday, 8 September 2012

Check it out.


For me?