Welcome to the aptly-named Writer's lounge [i]A Novel Idea[/i]. Here, would-be authors, part-time writers, and anyone with a creative mind can share their Rough Drafts of writing and fan fiction.
Complimentary links will be created if and when they need to be, but just post whatever you come up with, and let other people voice their opinions on your work.
Criticism is always welcome, so long as it isn't straight up slander. Enjoy!
IMPORTANT EDIT: for shits and giggles, if you ever feel like writing a story with multiple chapters or long blogs of fanfiction, incorporate this thread in your work as an Easter egg in some way, shape, or form.
Example: "why don't we take Bakini Bottom and push it somewhere else?"
"Hey, now there's a novel idea."
OR
"This guy I talked to, he's, uh... He's part of a PMC my organization works with. I forget his name and he's obsessed with old rock and blackjack, but he's one hell of an asset."
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[quote][u][i]???[/i][/u][/quote] The heavy footfalls of the two were dominant in the night air, the mud beneath their feet sloshed and splashed along their path. The trees made for good cover, leaves obscured sightlines and made the path harder for them, but also for their pursuers. The crack of bullets passing by their ears reminded them of that. Each one seemed closer then the last, each felt closer. They continued their flight, winding between and around the forest, searching frantically for the lights to guide them to safety. Every turn was a drain on their reserves, both of hope and energy. Every zip and whizz of a bullet, every splash behind their path, even the utter silence of their quarry made them all the more terrified of being caught. They both for the most part stuck as closely as they could with one another, one would trip and the other would run back to help, one would fall behind and the remaining would turn and fire back at their attackers, they were in it together. Until she realized he was gone. She had lost him in the maze of woodland. The sounds of danger had all but gone and the forest was silent once more, even the crickets dared not make a peep of their calls. She herself was on the fringes of panic. Had he been hit? Did he go down and she fail to notice? Was he just around the next tree? She searched for several minutes, the patter of her boots across the ground were all the sound that could be heard. Her breath was fast, the cold air bit into her with every shallow intake. She was panting with exertion. Eyes darting around, she finally came across a tiny clearing, only a few meters wide, and could see him there. Fresh blood ran along his face, more still over his chest padding. She quickly made a dash by his side, losing her footing and coming to a slide with a light thump against the roots of the tree he was propped against. He gave a groan as she approached, trying to move and failing. Her voice could be heard low in the still air, pleading for him to not give up just yet. He tries to bring his arm up, and she realizes he's looking past her, now pointing past her. By the time she realizes that, something heavy hits the right side of her head, sprawling her to the left. Her companion was trying to warn her. She straightens up just in time to spot and avoid a high swing with what looks like a wooden club, and then attempt to bring her firearm to bare on her adversary. The man rushes forward and tackles her into a tree, sending her weapon to the mud and pinning her as he aims a punch to her face. She kicks him hard in the groin, he gives a sharp "oomf" of pain, then hits her square in the nose as hard as he can. She's not the weak sort, but she is fairly small, especially beside him. A fight like this she can't hope to win. Her nose already drops blood, and her head feels like it's been hit by a truck, but she's not planning on submitting to a sure death. The small girl tucks in her arms as she kicks his chest with both feet, loosening his grip to the point where gravity will make her fall. She slides down and into the mud, between his legs, then away behind him as he starts to turn with a haymaker in store. She ducks under it and uppercuts him in the jaw, he stumbles back as she dashes for her weapon. Once recovered, he rushes to again pin her, and almost trudges through the mud as yet more rain comes down, a storm by now. Before she can uncover the long barrel of the rifle he kicks her in the small of her back, sharp pain from his heavy boots shoots into her mind and she cries out as she stumbles forward. He chuckles as he approaches, fishing her rifle from the ground and tossing it carelessly away. It wasn't needed, nor wanted. She turns to meet another kick in the same fashion as she draws a knife from her wrist, barely deflecting it by swiveling herself to make it a glancing blow, it grinds against her skin through her shirt as it passes, she aims her knife at his ear. His arm stops hers in the motion, but only as the knife gains a few centimeters into his ear canal. He yells out as he pries it out of her hands as she watches in horror, then jabs it right into her side in return before picking her up by the scruff of her neck. She dangles, reaching both for the knife and for his hand on her neck. She gritted her teeth to keep herself from screaming. The sound the blade moving between ribs were sickening to witness, her companion had to watch it all happen. Blood drooled it's way from under her breast and soaked through her clothing as the other three men finally made their presence known. They walked calmly along in groups of two, making a circle around the first man holding her, watching him play with his new toy. He chuckled happily as he tossed her down to the ground near another, who promptly gave her a kick to the abdomen to keep her from progressing more then to her hands and knees. The blood now dripped through her shirt as she crawled in the direction of where the rifle seemed to have been thrown, a desperate attempt to continue fighting for her life. The first man grabbed onto her leg before she could get far. He dragged her back through the mud as she screamed at them all, trying to claw at his hand with her nails, but it wasn't enough. She looked back in the direction of the rifle. Her companion had dragged himself somehow a few feet towards it in the time it took for the events to unfold, he lay on his side, looking her in the eye with her rifle in his rather weak grip. But it wasn't aimed at any of them, the angle was much too shallow. It was aimed at her. The glossy tears in her eyes finally broke through, mixing with the rainwater on her cheeks as they ran down her face. She understood what he meant to do. His eyes were bloodshot, but still strong in the final moments, as she had always known him to be. He knew what he had to do. Her tears weren't for her, but for him. The last thing Rose saw was Dylan's face, and the strong eyes telling her wordlessly that it would be alright.