Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]

Add Reply
  • Pages:
  • 1
Taste Your Beating Heart
Topic Started: Oct 31 2011, 09:34 PM (1,701 Views)
Brackie
Member Avatar

[ *  *  *  * ]
Jacqueline wasn't really surprised by what they were offering. She'd only just turned seventeen, and they were pretty heavy and regular drug users, so it really was only natural that they offer. She didn't expect it to be this difficult to say yes.

Clover, the chick named so because her hair was a dark green and would never not poof, was holding out a tube and offering her space. Vile audacious Clover, the chick who had slipped her tongue down the cock of nearly every guy in the room, was also the only other girl here, and the only one who could offer such services to ones such as themselves with the exclusion of Damian. Think of her as a big sister, think of her as a voice of reason, think of her as a slut. Jacqueline thought of her as all three at times, and what interesting stories did they have to tell each other.

It sat there in the middle, staring. A Yoda. A pale green yoda bong, with four tubes out of every orifice and a bowl on the brain spike, ready and waiting for her to give Jacqueline her first experiment.

But it wasn't the time for her to step down. No backing out, no showing them you're weak.

Jacqueline slipped past Clover and took her place on the bed.

Aron snickered, and lit the Sour Diesel.

"You better enjoy this, Cameo."

**

Cameo wasn't sure whether or not this was the result of a lucid nightmare or simply just a fucked up head. All she had to go on was the comfort that this most likely wasn't real. And all she knew was that she was hungry.

She'd finally forced the door open, after several pathetic pushes. After waking up slumped against a fence, this was her first priority, getting inside and finding somewhere to hide. This was the first place Cameo had seen, sans the outhouse. There wasn't much help coming if she chose to ignore common sense and hide in there either way, so this was her first locale in the Old West.

As soon as she'd walked briskly in, her nimble hands reached back to the door and slammed it shut behind her. She so wanted to keep leaning against it forever, so she would be safe from the fifty enemies she had to endure. But no, she was never that strong. One of the drawbacks of a fast metabolism and hard drugs, a body so frail she envied a baby deer.

She settled for turning shut the ancient lock on the inside of the handle. And for good measure, pushing the closest cabinet in front of it and securing herself a safe house. There was no way Cameo could stay here, isolated and alone, for the rest of her life. But it was a start.

It was dark, musty, and smelt like death, something which Cameo would usually bask in or at least people would assume. Now wasn't the time for indulgence, however, it was simply time to stay low and keep yourself sane.

She walked across the room towards an old chair, possibly teeming to explode with dust and mites. It wasn't anything important to consider, so she let off that tiny dust explosion uncaringly as she sat down softly. While it settled, she'd taken her bag which had simply been hanging lopsidedly from her shoulder and rested it on her knee.

For now, it was all she had. Her bag, and the silence of the cabin enwrapping this lanky goth girl as she sat there, thinking. She absentmindedly ran her hand back through her hair.

The knots untwined themselves, and she freed her hand from the mess.

This was nice.

No.

This sucked, this absolutely sucked.

Everyone knew she was a freak. A freak of society, a freak of nature, a freak. No one was going to bother wasting their time with her, the freaky loner goth girl who hangs out with the older kids and sleeps with all the older guys. They were all lies, Cameo had never been touched, not once.

There was no question people would want her dead. The voice over the train told her that only one would remain. People would have knives, they would have guns, and they would be fit and perfect to win. People would care, whoever was watching would care about them because they were doing what they wanted, unlike poor little Cameo, sitting alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, just waiting, waiting for someone to come along so she can bound off with her mother, sitting in the sights of a gun.

A growl erupted from somewhere in the room.

A zip unzipped, and spider hands found wrappings of shrivelled meat. It smelt of factory and horse, but her stomach hungered and bellowed, so Cameo unwrapped the jerky and shoved it down her throat. The taste was rotten, as though it had been sitting in the sun for hours, but it was food, it was protein, and it was what Cameo needed to stay alive.

As she pounced in for seconds, she saw her weapon. When everyone else got a gun, or at least a blade to cut her enemies down, she was given a sporting instrument. A silver golf club that looked like a wedge with a four etched into the metal. Was it a four iron? She didn't know anything about any sport that wasn't football.

Cameo delicately pulled it out of the bag. It was heavier than she imagined, she simply thought all the food and extra baggage in her bag made it heavier, but it was all the golf club. This thing could kill. It was capable of knocking someone into unconsciousness, a concussion, blood escaping from the head, and keep on going until that blood is one with the ground, along with the eyes, the teeth, the brain matter and every little thing inside the human head was meshed with the ground.

She thought darkly. But it was of no substance, no threat, because her hands were not made for killing. Not with a golf club.

It was dropped delicately beside the chair, and the bag along with it. Her knees felt cold, and she brought them up to the seat of the chair. Anaconda arms wrapped her up like a present, and now she felt just a little bit safer.

Cameo knew she was going to die. But she would delay its grip as long as humanely possible. It would not claim her until she made a mistake and until then, she would do everything perfectly.
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

Santiago Ibarra - Butterfly Knife

Nani Clover - Plastic Scythe

*
It is Known
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jadedflames
Member Avatar
Let's go fly a kite.
[ *  * ]
M06 - Simon Mattheson: START

Simon woke to an outhouse. The smell of one, anyway. He had been propped lovingly by some unseen hand against the side of an outhouse, pulled straight from a spaghetti western. On all other sides were dry bushes. He sniffed the air experimentally, finally deciding that the smell would not be toxic, and would probably keep others away, so he settled into his cover.

He remembered the voice from the train, and knew what was coming. He had no friends. However, he also had no enemies. He was an enigma. He smiled.

I would make a good character, wouldn't I? The silent mystery. The masked man. I like that.

Looking down at his feet, he found the bag the voice had promised, a nice canvas backpack. Strong, probably waterproof. Quite nice, really. He opened the bag, rooting through the contents. Looked like about three days worth of provisions, if he was careful. More water might be a plus. But he could still look around, make a camp somewhere out of the heat, and wait a while. Good thing he had eaten the peanuts on the train.

He reached the bottom bag, still no weapon. That was no good. How could a masked man of mystery survive without a weapon? No respectable hero would go without a weapon. What gives? He shifted, and felt a pain from his chest, as he squished a badge pinned to his chest. A sheriff's star. Ha. Ha ha ha.

Perfect, now all I need is a six-shooter. I hope the town has a good saloon. With a player piano. That would be great. I need to write that down.

He poked in the bag again. There was no pen. No paper. He searched in his pockets. Cleaned out. He rooted through the bag again, still nothing. No way of writing his fiction. This would be real, wouldn't it?

He drew a breath in, wheezing slightly from the refuse behind him.

That'll be me in a little while, won't it?

He blinked, looked at the badge, and tore it off in disgust, leaving a hole in his shirt. The hole showed his pale skin, clearly showing how little sun he got. He looked through the pack again. No sunscreen. Shoving the badge in his pocket, he stood.

I guess I will have to get inside.

He grabbed a couple of branches from the bushes, and snapped them as jaggedly as he could. A feeble defense, but better than nothing. Walking around the outhouse, he saw a cabin.

That's convenient. I wonder if there is anything in there I can use. Shelter, at least.

Simon walked up to the door, gave it a push. No good. He tried again, throwing all of his weight into it. Still no good. He walked around to the side, searching for a window. He finally found one that had not been borded up on the back wall, opposite the door and next to a crude chimney. He peeked in, looking at the door. There was a cabinet against the wall. There was a shiny rod on the floor. A foil? No. A golf club.

And there was a girl sitting in the chair, facing his window. His eyes widened in panic.
Virtua-SOTF
F11 - Samantha Atterman - Camping Set -

M06 -
Simon Mattheson - Winchester Rifle -
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Brackie
Member Avatar

[ *  *  *  * ]
Before she could really think of what she was going to do here, there was movement in the background. Not her background, but the one of her eyes. They darted towards the window and there stood a boy, a boy she recognised. No real supershock, she knew everyone in her class by their faces or their bodies.

It was that quiet kid, the one who never spoke to anyone. That could have just as adequately described Cameo herself, the way she would have worded it. He was small, tiny, frail, again all like her, but he dressed like a normal person, not like a walking wall of darkness as was her.

What was his name?

Simeon?

Simon?

Simone?

Something relatively average in either case.

In which case, she didn't happen to notice that she was staring at him for an awfully long time. Her head was somewhat tilted to the side, mouth snapped shut, and the eyes longing and unblinking. She blinked, shook her head a tiny bit, and realised what she was doing. Would she let him come in? Highly unlikely. Unless he proved he wasn't going to bother her, or kill her, or try to in any way.

How was she going to do that? Talking to him may have required going outside, into the sun, into the open. No way she was doing that.

But a hello wouldn't go astray.

Cameo let her legs creep back down to the floor, and her arms down to her bag, where she snagged back her golf club from under the sandy-patterned bag. She stood up from her chair, and slowly made her way towards the window.

She didn't know this boy, Cameo wasn't as much a social butterfly as a social glowworm, and there was no need for alliances in a game of death. But it was just a test. A secret test to tell whether or not he was going to kill her.

Cameo stood in front of the window, facing the boy. She was still for a few seconds, and until then she hadn't said a word in this game. Her left hand had other ideas. It protruded from under a long black sleeve towards the window, and rested there on the pane, scratched and pale palm outward towards the desert.

Her lips made movement. No sound backed them up, but that was all intentional.

"Hello."
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

Santiago Ibarra - Butterfly Knife

Nani Clover - Plastic Scythe

*
It is Known
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jadedflames
Member Avatar
Let's go fly a kite.
[ *  * ]
Though there was no sound, Simon still winced at the word. The girl had seen him, and he had not run. She had walked over, and he had not run. She placed her hand on the glass, inches away.

Why had he not run? No good would come of this. She had a weapon. An improvised one, one that might draw laughter anywhere else, but here...

She was terrifying.

Simon glanced left and right. Was she really talking to him? Was she really trying to communicate with him?

She really was.

Simon stepped away from the glass. He wanted to respond. He wanted to be friendly. She looked nice. What was stopping him from saying something? He parted his lips, tried to move them further, mouth something, anything.

But the harder he tried, the more he knew that is could not happen. He would say the wrong thing. She would think he was stupid. Or worse, she would think he was an enemy. Someone out to play the game. Someone with something scarier than a golf club. Someone who deserved to die. He scrabbled backwards in the sand, dropping his stick. He looked at it warily, and then lifted it like an oversized pencil.

Hand shaking, he looked at the flat sand in front of the window. He should write something. Writing can't be misinterpreted. In writing, he could still be strong, mysterious. Cool. Amazing.

He looked at the sand again, swallowed the lump in his throat, and wrote, slowly, carefully, two letters.

Hi
Virtua-SOTF
F11 - Samantha Atterman - Camping Set -

M06 -
Simon Mattheson - Winchester Rifle -
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Brackie
Member Avatar

[ *  *  *  * ]
Cameo's face was as readable as a blank book, a journal with no thoughts.

He was responsive, alert, and looked positively frightened of Cameo. Or maybe it was in his nature to be a frightened boy. Either way, he responded to her silent greeting with one of his own. Words in the sand, words meant for her eyes only. Hi. Such a pointed and strong word, all the elegance of a greeting without the added letters.

Cameo tilted her head at the message, and gazed back up to the boy who wrote them. Such a strange person, one who did not feel the need to speak, words which yet again so adequately described herself.

Her bated breath fell through a small opening in her lips, and fogged a small space of window. It gleamed white for a few moments, before fading away. The girl's eyes flickered towards the disappearing patch.

Her expression was still unreadable, as she open her mouth just a bit more and let loose a long breath on the pane. The condensation patch was just big enough. She removed her left palm from its plant on the screen, arched them precariously, and wrote.

r

She wiped it away quickly, and gave out one more breath, more paper to use.

u

Cameo paused as it faded away.

Thought deeply.

What word fitted best there?

...

A big breath of air followed. Her hands made a buzzword.

afraid?
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

Santiago Ibarra - Butterfly Knife

Nani Clover - Plastic Scythe

*
It is Known
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jadedflames
Member Avatar
Let's go fly a kite.
[ *  * ]
Yes.

God yes, he was. He was so incredibly terrified.

Not of the game, not of the sand, not of the desert sun beating down on his head. Not of running out of water, not of the Sheriff, not of the animals in the desert, none of that.

He was afraid of this girl, so calmly writing words to him. Words that could not be changed. Hard letters on the glass, meant for him and him alone.

And he had no idea how to respond.

He took up his stick, and faced the sand. He started to draw a line, beginning to form a Y.

No. That's no good. Hide it. Be a character. Let the words tell the story. She would never know. He rubbed out the line with his foot. Held his implement more firmly. Two more letters. Easy. Hard, block letters. Strong.

No

He looked at her, then back at the letters. He took in a deep breath, held it, and scrabbled out another line.

Are you?

This was all he could push. He awkwardly stabbed the stick into the sand and sat down, trying hard to look the part.
Virtua-SOTF
F11 - Samantha Atterman - Camping Set -

M06 -
Simon Mattheson - Winchester Rifle -
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Brackie
Member Avatar

[ *  *  *  * ]
He'd made a mistake while his back was turned, the letters disappeared quickly into the desert sand. She never saw what he'd done to warrant that, but what replaced them was more important.

The little boy had reflected the question right back at her.

And there was the punch to the gut she hadn't been expecting. Cameo curled her lip slightly, and averted her gaze from the boy to the golf club in her hand. She'd almost forgotten she was holding it, despite its heaviness and its supposed use as a weapon. It just hung there, really, content to watch.

But it still didn't answer the question he had asked. To be honest, she hadn't thought about that in all the time she'd been awake. She'd been perfectly content in mulling the possibilities of leaving this place, of leaving dead classmates in her wake, of doing anything to survive. It was all robotic, inhuman, like The Modern Prometheus at his worst moments.

Some might find it funny that Cameo had forgotten about her own emotions. Sure, whoever only knew her as a freak would find that expected, but to this freak? It was completely unexpected. She'd forgotten things, things she didn't want to forget.

Forgotten about all the books that she'd never read. About all the boys she'd never kiss. All the world she had yet to travel. The music she had yet to divulge. Happiness she had yet to find. Real happiness, not the things she pretended to wallow about in but instead found uneasy and just enjoyed for the sake of being with friends.

Her eyes felt itchy. Stinging, in fact. Like her eyeshadow or mascara was running but she was not sweaty or wet. That was...odd.

But she looked back from her gaze into nothing, and turned her lips up only a bit. Call it a smile, call it a grimace, either way it was small and almost unnoticeable.

She nodded.

Cameo Conroy was terrified of what she had gotten into, and did not want to die.
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

Santiago Ibarra - Butterfly Knife

Nani Clover - Plastic Scythe

*
It is Known
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jadedflames
Member Avatar
Let's go fly a kite.
[ *  * ]
The girl seemed affected by his writing. She nodded, but with that acknowledgement of fear came a slight smile. He felt his face go red, but hoped it could be blamed on the sun overhead. It was comforting to know that she was afraid too. He gazed at the face in the window, and tried to smile back, reassuringly, but it came off as more of a lopsided grin than a smile. Ah well, not much practice.

There was something different about this girl. She did not look down on his writing. She had smiled while the others would have laughed or simply turned away.

Or attacked.

Never forget the plot, Simon. This isn't a romance, is it? This is a western. No, a thriller.

But there was still something... She stood there, all in black, makeup smudged from the abduction, framed by an old window in a decrepit cabin. But in that moment, she was...

She was...

She was. Unlike the others who weren't. Who weren't there. Who weren't supportive. Who weren't kind. Row after row of unfeeling, laughing, shallow people who saw him as an idiot. A retard. A fool.

And she was.

He walked up to the window, inches away from this girl. This girl who he had never before even noticed. Who until five minutes ago he could not pull from a crowd. Who had spoken without sound. He exhaled on the glass, tracing out letters.

I'm Simon.
Virtua-SOTF
F11 - Samantha Atterman - Camping Set -

M06 -
Simon Mattheson - Winchester Rifle -
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Brackie
Member Avatar

[ *  *  *  * ]
Her eyes still felt itchy, ashamedly so as the boy stood up to the window and mimicked her own methods of communication. Breathe on the glass on his own side, and five letters etched there before evaporating. She was right, his name was Simon.

It was time to mirror his entitlements, return the favour. Cameo let loose a gale of her own onto the glass of warm breath. Five letters more she etched in, and gave him her name.

Cameo
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

Santiago Ibarra - Butterfly Knife

Nani Clover - Plastic Scythe

*
It is Known
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jadedflames
Member Avatar
Let's go fly a kite.
[ *  * ]
Simon watched her trace the word.

Cameo.

Her name? Must be. Strange name, but it fit.

A drop of water plopped onto his nose. He held out his hand, but it was not rain. Then another droplet. He touched his forehead, and, sure enough, the sun had finally got to him. The sweat was beginning to pour out.

He looked up at the sun, beating down. It would not be night for quite some time. The sun would be murder.

Looking back at Cameo, he sucked in a breath, holding it. He let it out slowly, but it did not fog the glass. He tried again, but to no avail. His mind was telling his body to do something impossible. How could he do this?

You'll die if you don't.

A good reason, to be sure, but he might die if he did. And then there would be no glass separating them. He could not pretend to be normal any more.

Is it really worth it? The facade?

No. Of course not. Death by dehydration was a horrible way to go, or so he was told. He sucked in one more breath, giving himself a canvas one more time.

Cameo

He let her name fade, putting one hand up to the glass, spreading his fingers. Looking her in the eye, trying not to waver. He exhaled again, legs feeling weak. One finger on the glass, tracing the words.

Can I come in?
Virtua-SOTF
F11 - Samantha Atterman - Camping Set -

M06 -
Simon Mattheson - Winchester Rifle -
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Brackie
Member Avatar

[ *  *  *  * ]
...

She wanted to say yes.

There was just something about Simon that made her want to let him into her abode. It was just the way they talked, the way that he said so much to her, and she to him, it was that kind of connection she knew that she'd need. If she really was to change her mind about the whole thing, Simon would be her one exception.

But there were the screaming instincts of Cameo that told her she should not deviate from the plan. She was going to be on her own, stay in the dark and in the quiet while everyone else succumbed and died. To disregard this plan simply because of a boy, because of something out of an American Hollywood movie, something cheesy and ridiculous such as a 'connection'? It would only end badly for Cameo. Would he turn on her? Would she develop feelings which had no chance of being reciprocated or extended outside of this war?

Logic prevailed. It wasn't the right thing to do. She wanted to, inside her burned a desire to risk it, just for the boy she'd had a decent conversation with. Simon couldn't be a killer, otherwise she would be splattered across the room. He wasn't violent, otherwise his reaction upon seeing her, or waking up, or her refusal to speak would have been much less muted. He couldn't be planning on killing her. Could he?

She'd unfocused her eyes from him, looking away aimlessly as though ashamed of something she hadn't done. Cameo really didn't know what to do.

...

You know what?

Yes she did.

It felt like forever she stood there thinking it over, but she'd made her decision.

Without even giving an answer, Cameo disappeared from the window's view.

Anyone standing outside the cabin could have heard the scraping of wood against wood, echoing loudly for the second time in half an hour, the clicking of an old lock, and the creaking hinge of an opening door from around the corner of the goth girl's window.

Cameo had said yes.

It was a really, really ballsy move, and she hoped to God or whatever the hell was deciding if she lived or died that it didn't blow up in her face.
The Program 2.5 - Traitors

Santiago Ibarra - Butterfly Knife

Nani Clover - Plastic Scythe

*
It is Known
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jadedflames
Member Avatar
Let's go fly a kite.
[ *  * ]
Simon watched through the window as she looked to the side, eyes losing their sharp focus. He saw her disappear from the window, moving out of his view.

She said no, huh?

Bit rude of her not to say anything. Simon blinked, his eyes almost starting to water. This was the first time he had communicated with someone since before he could remember. He had been sure that there had been something special about their meeting. Something that could have made this whole mess just a little bit brighter.

He fell to the ground, sitting hard.

Then came the scrape. Something being pushed aside, movement inside the cabin. A loud click. A bolt being pulled back? The creak of an ancient hinge, one that had never seen oil.

Simon looked up at the cabin, standing slowly. He shouldered his bag, picking his stick back up, edging around the corner of the cabin, looking at the once locked door.

And there she was.

She was standing just inside the doorway, the bright sun highlighting her and her alone, the rest of the cabin receding into the background. For the first time, he could see her entire form. Her slight build, her flowing clothes. He blushed slightly, looking away.

Stop that, Simon, You're the hero, remember?

He forced his head up, walking to the door, holding his gaze level, meeting hers. She was taller than him, by a bit, and her boots did not help, either. He smiled again at her, trying to reassure himself just as much as he was her.

She is still holding her club.

His eyes darted down to it, briefly. Too late for that. His eyes moved back to her face, and he took a step forward, then another, then another.

He was on the threshold of the building. After this, he could not take back his actions. He would be stuck with the consequences. Not too late to run, to turn and leave her. To get to the town, to hide in another abandoned building. This couldn't be the only shelter...

No. He had made a choice. This was it.

He took a step forward, into the cabin. It was cooler than outside, dark, cluttered and covered with dust. A cabinet, a chair, a bed, a desk... it seemed smaller on the inside.

He looked at Cameo, still standing there, as if waiting for him to do something drastic.

Do something, you idiot!

He held out his hand, palm towards her, pushing on the imaginary window between them. He swallowed, waiting for her reaction.
Virtua-SOTF
F11 - Samantha Atterman - Camping Set -

M06 -
Simon Mattheson - Winchester Rifle -
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jadedflames
Member Avatar
Let's go fly a kite.
[ *  * ]
((All GMing done by me is allowed by Inky, who is having a totally epic vacation.))

Cameo watched him carefully, seeing his actions. She took a step back, allowing him entrance into the cabin. He took another couple of steps in, swallowed nervously, and stood in the doorway.

Cameo cleared her throat, as if expecting Simon to say something.

Of course she expects you to say something. At least a thank you. Can't do that, can you. Wasn't this a good idea?

His eyes darted around in a panic. He had to find something to write on. Some way to explain himself. His gaze settled on the desk in the back corner. It was a simple thing, with just one drawer, so crude that it looked like it might fall apart at any second. But it might have what he needed.

He held up one finger, putting it to his mouth. Pretend like he was doing it on purpose. This was all a strategy. What if someone else was nearby to hear them talking? Disaster. He moved around her, keeping his distance, making his way to the desk. He pulled out the drawer.

Ink. No pen. No paper. No luck.

Well....

He took a splinter of wood from nearby, and dipped it in the ink. Pushing the detritus on the simple desk aside, he set to work.

Can't speak. The words were ugly and spotty from his crude pen, but they were words.

He straightened, and jumped as he found that she was standing right behind him, looking over his shoulder. He got out of the way, as she took his pen.

Why not?

She frowned, clearly she was not buying it.

Of course she isn't. You are in a secluded cabin. Why wouldn't you speak?

He closed his eyes briefly, thinking quickly. He let out a thin stream of air between his teeth, focusing.

((To be continued shortly. I am figuring out exactly what is going to happen.))
Virtua-SOTF
F11 - Samantha Atterman - Camping Set -

M06 -
Simon Mattheson - Winchester Rifle -
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Jadedflames
Member Avatar
Let's go fly a kite.
[ *  * ]
Simon bit the inside of his lip.

Moment of truth.

I can't speak.

All the moments of his past, the bullies, the special classes, the angry teachers, all of them telling him not to write that down. Telling him that she would hate him. That she would make fun of him. That she would hurt him, push him around, take what little he had and leave him empty.

His hand quivered slightly, and he dropped the improvised pen onto the desk. He looked up at her.

Cameo was reading the words again, finally looking at him. "Oh."

Oh? Oh? Oh What? What does Oh mean? How could she use her words to say so little when he knew how much they could mean? He pulled the pen towards him again.

I'm Sorry.

He closed his eyes, feeling them start to water. He looked down quickly, hiding this fact, pretending to check on his bag. He poked the canvas awkwardly.

Way to go, buddy. She thinks you're a retard. I did warn you this would happen, didn't I?

He clenched his teeth, ready to get up and run before she decided he was better off dead, when he heard a scratching from Cameo. He looked up. She was writing something. Why was she writing when she could just speak? She moved away, and he saw what was there.

Don't Be.

He felt a sob welling up in side, swallowed it down.

She's lying. Ignore her. Leave.

No. No she's not. She's not like that. She's Different.

No she's not. It's all a game to her.

But Simon took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, and gave his awkward smile. He looked around again, taking in the cabin, feeling suddenly much less confined in the dingy, broken space. But this was not a place where two people could hide out. Not with nothing but a golf club to their name. He took up the stick one last time. Scratched out a longer message.

Stay here. I'm going to go look for supplies. We can wait it out here.

He took the shiny gold star out of his bag, and put it down on the table.

I'll be back for that.

Now that was a cliche, and he knew it, but he was back in the writer's seat. He had a narrative. He could do this. Cameo nodded, and he walked out the door. He heard the heavy furniture slide back against the door, sealing him out.

A silent boy walked into the desert.

((Simon Mattheson continued Dust in the Wind))
Virtua-SOTF
F11 - Samantha Atterman - Camping Set -

M06 -
Simon Mattheson - Winchester Rifle -
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
widespreadinman
Member Avatar
Rookie
[ *  * ]
((Sycanus Applettin continued from Roaring Rapids Of Hell))
She was panting by the time the cabin appeared. Though it was a somewhat small speck at first, she was forced to slow to a fast walk. As she was walking, Sycanus pulled out her canteen of water, taking a heavy swig of it.
Like you could have filled it up at the river...
Eventually, the cabin was only a few yards away, soon to be a few feet. "Huh? Oh sure, Tobeyn... we'll stop..." she said. "Just need to get to the cabin..." The closest she got was the outside wall, to which she leaned against. Sycanus was panting, sweating, and a bit unfit. Her gaze looked to the direction she ran from.
I just hope neither of them are following... if not just Simon.
Virtua Characters

Posted Image
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums. Reliable service with over 8 years of experience.
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Isolated Cabin · Next Topic »
Add Reply
  • Pages:
  • 1

Theme created by tiptopolive. Find more great themes and skins at the ZB Theme Zone.