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Story Time with Uncle Queggy
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Post by
Queggy
Ok, so I've recently been writing some stuff, preparing for college, etc. That sort of stuff. Anyways the first piece I wrote for a contest, but then I ended up writing what I thought would be a better piece. This first piece isn't as long as I would have liked because there was a word limit, and I had already exceeded it. Anyways read it and tell me what you think. The subject for the contest by the way was a single or multiple characters living through a significant action or event. Once the contest is over I'll post the one I sent in. And maybe once I write some more I'll post those too.
Quick jump
- Invasion
- Taken
- Flare
- FanFics
- The Rise of Hellscream
- Diary of Ferrous
- Blood and Shadow
- Sorrow
- Blogs
Post by
Queggy
- Invasion
A loud klaxon split the still, summer night air. All over the city lights came on as frightened townspeople woke up in their beds. They were coming. Mothers quieted scared children as fathers took down guns from over the mantle. Creaking doors covered with mosquito netting slammed open, denting the clapboard walls. Trickles of people ran out of alleyways and side streets and joined into a river, all rushing down Main Street and heading towards the town gates. Arriving at the open space inside the walls, they stopped and fell into well-drilled procedures, each man going to his assigned battalion. The local militia group was already there, up in the guard towers, patrolling the walls topped with barbwire, and manning the canons behind the walls. Vague howls and demonic screams could already be heard approaching the town. Men started muttering among themselves, “This is the third time this month!” “We'll never make it out alive!” A Lieutenant-colonel stepped forward and gruffly shouted at the locals to quiet down. “Show some backbone!” Priests of the various denominations hurried forward and joined the ranks of the troops, ready to heal and perform exorcism upon any that needed it. They were as ready now as they would ever be. The men stood waiting; each minute that passed brought the demonic horde closer to their town; the sounds of chaos increased. Suddenly from the southwest there came a low buzz. Spotlights on top of the towers swiveled around, searching for the source of this newest disturbance. One light flashed over something and the men tensed: was it a new group of demons? But no, as the lights locked on to the objects they saw that it was only five biplanes. It appeared that they would have some air support in the coming battle. The men gave a sigh and started cheering as the wing of planes swooped low over the town.
But then a shot rang out. A private on top of the wall had killed one of the forward scouts, they were here. The battalions quieted down and the priests started praying for protection over their assigned groups. The engineers stationed at the canons burst in to a flurry of movement as they prepared the guns and checked over them. The Lieutenant-colonel stepped forward again and gave the order for the flares. On top of the walls, bright red light burst from the flare guns and hung in the air overhead. The men on the walls and the towers leaned forward, and in the red glare of the flares they could see the demons climbing the crest of the ridge only two miles distant from the town. The planes shot forward toward the demons and climbed into the air, turning corkscrews and then flopped over, coming into a steep dive towards the horde. The men back in the town cheered as the biplanes released some of their payload. The bombs screamed towards the horde and exploded, shooting clouds of dirt, bone, and flesh into the air. Their cheering stopped suddenly though as dark, winged forms shot skyward from the screaming masses and rocketed towards the planes. Sharp claws glinted in the light from the flares as the demons roared towards the planes. The sound of screeching metal added to the already chaotic sounds of the demon horde as the wings and fuselage of the planes were torn apart in seconds. Trailing dark smoke, the biplanes plummeted towards the ground and with a deafening impact, exploded. The demons gave out a roar of triumph and rushed towards the city walls.
With a hollow thump the canons fired, sending chunks of metal flying into the demon's ranks. The men inside the walls rushed towards the gates to defend them, while above, the men in the towers and on the walls rained death upon the demons. Priests' hands glowed with light as they grabbed any demon that made it up onto the walls. Whenever a priest grabbed a demon, it screamed in anguish as the holy fire burned it from the inside out. Private Johnson was stationed with the battalion right inside the gates. He shuddered in fear and disgust as the gate quivered with each new assault the demons made. Great claws and fangs ripped through the reinforced metal on the gates like a knife through butter. The men gave a shout and fired whenever a demon showed his head through a tear in the gates. Johnson knew that the gates could not hold out forever, but they burst sooner than he expected. With a shuddering tear the gates exploded off their hinges, shooting back into the crowd of men waiting behind and killing a few. Johnson waited for a target to present itself; he wouldn't have much time to reload. Suddenly, through the smoke and haze, a demon leaped forth. Its eyes locked onto Johnson as it stood there. Johnson eyed it warily; it was a huge specimen of a demon. Its skin was a red color and it was about nine feet tall. Swirling black runes covered all of its body and they seemed to glow with evil . Huge ridged horns jutted forward from its bony brow, and long claws dragged along the ground. It was sort of hunched over like a giant ape, and its forearms were longer than its legs. Its eyes glowed with hell-fire as it started running forward toward Johnson. Johnson fired his gun at the demon, but the bullet barely penetrated the flesh. He fumbled for another bullet but it was too late, the demon was already upon him. It howled and swiped at Johnson. The next thing that Johnson knew, he was lying on the ground. His whole left side had gone strangely numb. Looking down, he saw to his dismay that his left arm was gone and his side was torn open, his innards hanging out. Through the red fog covering his vision he saw a priest running towards him, his black robes flapping in the wind. But Johnson knew there was no point. He knew they would all be overrun, each island of humanity slowly drowned by the sea of demons. He remembered how it had all started . . .
It all began almost a year ago. They had received reports over their radios that great chasms had split open the ground near some major cities. Then, for a few months there was silence, until the next reports that New York, London, Hong Kong, Berlin, Rome, Moscow and others were all gone. All that was left was the smoking ruins; no one knew what had destroyed them. Then, a few weeks later a chasm split open in the forest near their town. They sent out a team of scientists and for a few days they had received reports that all was well and that they were investigating the chasm. Then there was silence. After that they sent out a few soldiers from the local military base, but only two men returned. One died the next day from wounds, and the other became a lunatic; he just kept repeating over and over, “They're coming for us! They're coming! We've got to hide!”
But no one knew what he was talking about. A while later people from the outlying farms spoke of dark monsters in the night that crept into rooms and slaughtered babes. In fact, there was one farm that had all its livestock brutally slaughtered. After that, no one wanted to go out after dark, and anyone that had been living outside of the town now wanted to move. Then, in a surprise address a few months later, the president spoke telling the nation that the global powers were all reporting the same thing, that it was demons from the underworld that had attacked. Borders shut down, transportation stopped, local militias were formed, and curfew was instigated. They were coming.
- Taken
Albert Mercinni sighed as he shoved open the door and walked inside. The door had been sticking for a while now. It had been a long day at the steel plant and he had forgotten about having to fix the door. He took off his favorite cap and hung it on one of the pegs of the hat stand his wife had picked up on their vacation in France. He shrugged out of his heavy leather coat and slipped off his shoes, tossing them both to the floor. He probably should have taken the time to put them up properly, but he was too tired. He paused; it was strangely quiet in the house. By this time their son should have been home from soccer practice and banging on his guitar upstairs or playing one of those computer games he seemed to enjoy so much, yet the only sounds were the house creaking every now and then as it settled. He supposed Francine was out shopping for groceries, but not even their cat had made any sound yet. “Hello? Anyone home?” he yelled. Al glanced around and yelled again, “Hello?” He half expected his own echo to come bouncing back at him, but his voice just died in the still silence. Something strange was going on here. He padded slowly down the hall and paused outside the kitchen to listen, but he couldn't hear anything or anyone in there. He was starting to get worried. He decided that if they were trying to play a joke on him then he would play one on them. He would surprise them in the act! So he gathered up his strength and leaped forward.
He landed with a thud in the middle of the kitchen, his body hunched over into a crouch with his hands stretched forward ready to grab. But there was no one to grab; where was everyone? He was starting to get seriously worried now, the suspense was bringing back memories of his time in the war. His eyes roved around the kitchen, looking for clues. But there was nothing; the dishes were piled in the sink, and the preparations for dinner were already out on the peninsula, but there was no sight or sound of anyone. There should have been flies buzzing around the food, and the fridge should have been humming quietly, but there was nothing, nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He stood up slowly and walked over to the fridge, pulling it open, but no blast of cool air met him. He pulled out the jug of milk and sipped it, then grimaced and spat it out. It was warm. He walked over to the light switch and flipped it, but nothing happened. He stalked out of the kitchen. He was sure now that something was either terribly wrong or they were playing a sick prank on him.
He made a round of the house and even the yard and garage, but there was no sign of anyone. The car was in the garage and the engine was cold. His son's bed wasn't made and his clothes were on the floor. His computer which was usually on was quiet. In fact, the electricity everywhere in the house was dead. He went into the washer room and pulled open the panel on the wall, checking the breaker box; it was dead too, but there was no sign of any mechanical failure. He pulled open the door and walked outside. More quiet met him. No wind stirred the swing set, no birds called to one another, no mowers ran in the neighbor's lawn, and no cars whizzed by on the highway. There was only dead silence. More memories of his time in the war before he had been discharged flashed through his head; all of it brought on by the stress. He chuckled hysterically, “dead silence, huh?” Maybe that was why it was so quiet. Then he realized what he had just thought - he was losing his mind, he was caving in to the worry and dread. He had to pull himself together before he completely lost it. Of course everyone wasn't dead, of course . . .
He walked back inside, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. He bumped into the walls aimlessly, not even noticing where his feet were taking him. He stumbled into the kitchen and sank down into a chair, resting his arms on the table and cradling his head. What was going on? What was the matter? He glanced up and then noticed something he hadn't seen before. On the table in front of him was a gouge in the wood. There had never been a mark there before, and he had no idea what could have caused it. It appeared that whatever had caused it was very sharp, because it was a long, deep gash in the hard oak of the table. Al leaned over and peered at the table closer: the gash was slightly jagged, but not very much. And stuck down in the bottom of the gash was a small piece of fabric. He tried to reach his fingers down into the crack to grab it, but his fingers were too wide. He rushed upstairs and into the bathroom, grabbed a pair of tweezers and hurried back downstairs. He carefully stuck the tweezers down in the gash and grabbed hold of the piece of fabric and maneuvered it out, making sure all the while that it didn't tear any more. Finally after a few nerve wracking minutes he got it free.
He held it up to the light. From what he could see it appeared to be a floral pattern with pale red flowers on a black background, just like the blouse his wife had worn that morning. He sniffed, it smelled just like Francine. Someone or something had taken his wife and son, and they had probably done something to everyone else too. He gripped the fabric tightly in his hand, he didn't know why he had been spared and everyone else had been taken, but he knew one thing. There was no one else to do the job and so he was going to have find whoever had done it and make them pay. He walked upstairs and quickly changed out of his work clothes, putting on something more suited for what was to come. Then he went to his closet and took down a box from way up high. He opened it up and checked to make sure the shells were still there, then he put the ammo in a pouch and strapped the rifle to his back. He took down another box and strapped the knife to his thigh, then he went downstairs to the foyer. He opened up the shoe-closet and in the back corner found what he was looking for. He strapped on his old military boots from his Marine Corps days and and ripped open the door, stepping outside. It was still quiet, and he was still worried, but now he had a purpose. It was open season . . .
Post by
Queggy
- Flare
The doctor stepped forward, holding the babe. It was swaddled in a clean white robe and was the most beautiful thing that Judge had ever seen. The doctor laid the babe in Judge's arms. Clockwork, Judge's wife took the babe and held it close, letting it suckle at her breast.
"It's a boy." The doctor explained. Then he took an omnipaper out of his coat pocket, handing it to Judge and saying, "Here is what the Gov is predicting will be available jobs by the time the child is sixteen. Choose a job and verify which one you chose by pressing your thumbprint, your wife's thumbprint, and the boy's thumbprint on the omnipaper. After that you can name it."
Judge and Clockwork looked over the omnipaper for a few minutes. It looked as if most of the jobs would fit in on a deep-space colonization movement.
"Is the Gov going to colonize another planet? Is Beta becoming too full?" Clockwork asked.
The doctor shrugged with his hands deep in his pockets.
"Do I look like I would know what the Gov is thinking? I'm like everyone else, I just do what I'm told." he replied. "Lets hurry this up, yours isn't the only kid being born today."
Judge and Clockwork continued to peruse the omnipaper, while the doctor impatiently tapped his foot. They argued back in forth for awhile. Definitely not a technician, it didn't seem to run in the family genes and paying for new genes was always so expensive and annoying. In the end it was down to a pilot and a doctor. After a few more moments of discussion, they decided to go with the pilot. If the Gov was planning to push for a new colonization, then a ship's pilot was an important job, and hopefully one that their son might enjoy and not view as too monotonous. And once they found a new planet, then perhaps he could scout out the terrain from the skies and help protect the new world as a pilot.
After they told the doctor their decision, he nodded and told them to press their thumbprints against the omnipaper now. They did so, first Judge and then Clockwork, each time the omnipaper flashed green and verified that they were who they said they were. Then they pressed their son's thumb against the omnipaper. The paper lit up a glorious gold and asked for confirmation that a pilot was their final choice. They indicated yes.
"Alright," the doctor said. "He's a pilot. I'll send the nurse in after a bit to give him his verification tattoos. All you folks need to do now is choose the name and enter it on the omnipaper, then his file will be complete and submitted to the Gov for storage."
Obviously the name would have to be related to his profession in some way, but what? The doctor left and after a while the nurse came in. By that time, Judge and Clockwork had decided.
Judge held the omnipaper close to his face so that the vocal detector would be able to hear him clearly. He indicated that he was ready to choose a name and then said softly, "Flare."
The omnipaper flashed from the gold to a bright green and then went dark. It was done.
"Burn brightly, Flare . . ." Judge whispered to himself. "Burn brightly."
Post by
Queggy
- FanFics
- The Rise of Hellscream
Part
Part 2
- Diary of Ferrous
- Blood and Shadow
Chapters 1 - 5
- Sorrow
Prologue
- Blogs
All blogs by me are
here
.
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Queggy
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Queggy
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Queggy
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Slimda
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mudfish
Post by
Queggy
Thanks mudfish. I assume you guys are going to edit your comments and tell me what you think?
Post by
mudfish
Post by
329184
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Queggy
Thanks! But yeah, I realized it was really abrupt but there was nothing I could really do because the limit was 1200 words and it's currently at 1314 or something like that. But once the contest is over I'll be able to post the one I actually sent in, and if I work on others I can post those too.
Post by
Lusky
I like it! Very well done, Quegster. Hope to read moar. ;)
Just a short story or planning something larger?
Post by
Queggy
Hmmm? It started out as a short story, but I suppose it could possibly be fleshed out. Although that would be a lot of work . . .
Post by
Lusky
Maybe you'll be the next.. er.. Eragon-writer-guy.. his started out as a school assignment. xD
I'd read it, pretty interested so far.. hell, I'd even buy it. Be able to say I knew the author.. kinda.. before he wrote.. then, in that little front flap, you can put "For my family, Lusky, and Randomness for all their support."
Post by
Toldry
Toldry evades Queggy's wall of text.
Post by
Queggy
Maybe you'll be the next.. er.. Eragon-writer-guy.. his started out as a school assignment. xD
I'd read it, pretty interested so far.. hell, I'd even buy it. Be able to say I knew the author.. kinda.. before he wrote.. then, in that little front flap, you can put "For my family, Lusky, and Randomness for all their support."
Well, I'll probably end up being a writer for a living, so I'll let you know whenever I get something wrote!
Toldry evades Queggy's wall of text.
/slap
That is
not
a wall of text.
Post by
Lusky
Well, I'll probably end up being a writer for a living, so I'll let you know whenever I get something wrote!
Edit: Stalkers.
If you don't mind, at least..
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