%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
This is where you can find my works in progress and advice that I have for other writers. |
|
Welcome to my first post! It's chapter one of Trial by Fire from the first superhero trilogy I'm writing! Enjoy! 1 Tarquin The crunching of leaves pierces the crisp autumn air like a needle. I bolt out of sight. Man, these guys are like hounds! I donāt understand why theyāre chasing me. It might be because Iām the son of the cruelest man in town and I didnāt turn out like him or that I declined their invitation to join their gang. My mom left my dad ten years ago when I was five. I donāt know why she left, but my dad blames me for it. He was a different man before she left, but now heās always angry and drunk, and he beats me. Iām done putting up with him. Iām running away. āYou can run but you canāt hide Tarquin!ā Snarls the portly gang leader. I think his name is Antonio. āOh yeah?ā I taunt from my hiding space in the bushes, āThen how come you havenāt found me?ā āWeāll find you soon enough!ā Bellows Antonioās weasel-faced cronie. Theyāre going to find me soon. There arenāt many places to hide, and in a minute, theyāll have searched the whole area so I dart over to a tree and begin climbing, the rough bark scraping my shins. When Iām about fifteen feet up, the smallest of them, Tank, notices me and squeaks, āThere he is!ā Dang, it. For a moment, I freeze. Then, I scramble down the tree, knowing it would be no good to keep climbing. Theyād make sure that Iād fall and break my neck, rendering me defenseless or dead. Iāve seen it happen before when they wanted Bertram, a quiet young man known for his strength, to join them. He hasnāt been the same since. I land on my feet and try to get at least a small foothold in the situation. āHaha, you found me. I gave you a good bit of sport though didnāt I?ā I fake a laugh, trying to hide how scared I am. Antonio and the rest of the boys look at me as if I lost my head. For a split second, I think I have some sort of foothold, but their shock only lasts momentarily as they close the circle around me, cutting off all forms of escape. āNo one says no to the Pyrokinetics. I like you, Tarquin, so Iām giving you one last chance. Will you join us?ā I look from face to leering face and make my probably last decision. āNo.ā āI thought that might be the answer. Boys, take him to the hideout and teach him what fire really is.ā I dodge as one of the āboysā tries to pull a sack over my head, but two others are a step ahead, grabbing my arms and tying them behind my back. I struggle uselessly against my captors as the burlap sack goes on. The next five minutes are silent as they march me to where ever their hideout is. When we reach their hideout, the sack comes off, and I am tied to a metal pole. The men take turns āroughing me upā which basically means each of them brutally punch me so hard that itās going to bruise for weeks if I even live that long. Once Iām beaten senseless, they decide that theyāre done for now. I heave a sigh of relief although it sounds more like a wheeze because my face is so swollen. The Pyrokinetics laugh cruelly. This is worse than any flogging my father could have given me. I was used to pain sure. I practically lived with it, but it only ever had to live up to one manās satisfaction, my fatherās. When he was done, he let me go, but these men, they would never be done. Theyāre sitting at a table playing cards. Their murmurs float through the stale air of what I can only assume is an abandoned ware house. Not so abandoned now. āWeāre going to have to do it.ā āWeāve already put it off too long.ā My head is spinning, not only from pain but with questions. Do what? My lesson with fire? Putting it off? āSomeoneās going to have to do it.ā This voice is gentle, deep, and whispery. It barely carries even though the air is still and quiet. āYou mean youāre going to have to do it Phobeā.ā āBut I-ā āOr we can have Shred do it. Heāll be a lot less gentle about it.ā A beat. āFine.ā One of the men break off from the group and stalks toward me. His face is pale. So pale that it almost looks grey. Heās scared. Nearly as scared as I am. He pauses and examines my face for a moment then draws back his hand as if to slap me. I flinch and he gently presses the palm of his hand to my face. āIām sorry.ā He whispers and everything crumbles to black. It stays dark for a few moments and then thereās a tickling warmth at the back of my mind. I smell smoke, and feel sunlight, but I canāt see anything. A bitter, acrid taste fills my mouth, blood. Heat crawls up my legs and then everything explodes in a whirlwind of fire. My right arm feels as though it was being poked by a million white hot needles. Everything smells of pain, blood, and smoke. I hear a gunshot, the splat of blood on the floor and then, nothing. |
| This book is currently empty. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
