Friday, 10 February 2012

Story time!

Hi guys!

I'm not sure why, but I seem to be getting a lot more hits recently, anyone else experienced this? It's enough to make me wonder if my link got posted elsewhere or something. Whatever the reasons though, hello to you all and it's nice to have you here!

Not a great deal going on for me at the moment, which I suppose is as disappointing as it is pleasing in many ways, so here's a slither of the story I'm still writing. Getting there slowly but surely...

The guard’s head was almost uncovered now; his arms had loosened their grip.
“Look at me,” Mark said. “LOOK.”
The guard smothered his head again. Mark raised his right foot high and brought it down hard on his ankle. The guard whimpered. The mood had changed from rabid to calculated. Chris was taking mental notes, Ricky was motionless and held the coldest stare he could muster.
The guard tentatively looked up, revealing a greenish bruise on his cheek and a split lip. He was greeted with Mark’s deep, penetrative eyes behind the black mask; he didn’t dare look to the other two boys for fear of angering Mark.

Quickly and without apparent thought, Mark’s empty left hand palmed the forehead of the guard, holding his face steady for an ugly, vicious blow with his right. A second and third followed, the object in his right slipped further from his grip to protrude and cause increasing damage. Each time his hand raised to wind up another hit, it left an impression in the guard’s face as though it were made of dough. His skin was changing colour from greenish bruising to deep crimsons, greens and blues. Bloody gashes looked almost black against his natural, unharmed skin and creamy beige formed marbled pools in the deepest of his wounds. Mark’s fist and the object within were stained a dark red from the first impact.
The damage was severe but the guard was silent. He was conscious but his head was spinning and his mind twisting in on itself.

Mark kept hold of the man's forehead with his left hand, allowing Chris to throw his left foot out and swipe at the man’s jaw from the opposite side, sending it drastically off kilter from the rest of his face. The guard was now unconscious. A conclusion had been reached. His head rested limp in the left hand of Mark; his eyes half-closed and glassy, his left was deep and bloodshot.
Chris kicked again with his left, jabbing rather than hooking this time, up into the nostrils of the man. Mark dropped the man's head and let his limp body slump prone against the wall, staring at nothing.

“C***,” said Mark. “Come on, let’s go.”
The boys silently walked away from the guard and past the fire exit. Mark picked his bag up and put the object he had been clutching back in.
“What was that?” Ricky asked, breathless.
“Rail screw.”

It's unedited (apart from the swearing) and part of a first draft, so go easy on spelling/grammar and I tend to repeat words by accident sometimes! I know this bit doesn't make much sense out of context, but I'd like to know if it seems too violent, or not violent enough perhaps. I aimed for realism rather than sensationalism, but everyone sees the truth differently and I wouldn't want to only represent myself if possible.

Anyway, thanks again for everything and hello to all my new (and old) readers!

1 comment:

  1. Can't say whether or not it was too violent without knowing more about the characters and the situation they're in. Didn't notice any grammar/spelling errors. I guess it was pretty brutal, but at least I don't really mind, if there's a reasonable enough explanation for it.

    Also, good to hear from you again. I hope all is well with you too.