Gamefreak
08-06-2003, 10:01 AM
hey! kinda new to these fourms and such. just wondering what you guys thought of my writing. heres a sample of it from a novel i'm helping my friend write. i've named it The Assassain's Son. heres the intro. thanks a bunch!
The red beam of light, brighter than the sun at high noon, cut through the human’s soft, white flesh easier than a hot knife through freshly baked bread. As blood gushed out, the heart didn't seem to understand that death was inevitable and continued to frantically pump blood, trying to recover the blood that was dousing the helpless victim. This didn't seem to matter much to the criminal who had simply killed another person without after-thought. Consciences were for the weak. And unlike so many of his partners, he didn't stay awake at night knowing he had ended another one's life, something that had taken approximately 11,680 days to come to bloom, and had been, unsaddly to him, cut short. Nor did he think of the victim’s family, if he could sleep it off, they could to. Or he would happily send them to the grave with their beloved son. Just another human, just another body. The police would be after him, but then, they always were. Just another inconvience. And the additional death would be added to him sentence, not that you can make the death sentence any worse, and certainly to the reward. Not that anyone had dared to try to capture him after what he had done last time.
The woman, having heard the last scream of the recent-victim, and last sound of her life, hurried in the room from which it came only to see her son dead and a man above him. What she didn't know was that this "man" really was no man at all. The shadows seemed to swirl around him making a clear glance at him hard on the eyes. This coped with his all black coat and black studded armor made it even harder on her weak human eyes.
She wanted to scream, to ask why, to question. Why would someone kill anyone? Why her son? In this split second she asked herself this question she too was cut apart. And thus her last thought, and thought her other son would soon think, why?
This "man" had never thought this in his life. He receives a mission, he fulfills a mission. There is no why to a mercenary, an assassin. There is only how, and who. Time to go, the sooner he could collect his pay, the sooner he could pay off his debts. The evil debt's that had gotten him into this mindless business in the first place...
What he didn't know was that another inconvience was heading home to see his wife and kid. As he jumped out the window, shattering the cheap glass into many pieces, the father caught by surprise, looked up and dropped his bag. The bag with the project he had been working on all day. Not just any project, a secret project that was the "why?" in this case. Luckily, or unluckily for him, the "project" didn't break. As soon as he had unsheathed his sword his arm was off, withering on the floor.
"Is this it?" the shadow "man" asked. This only caused the man to get up and try to attack the shadow again. He nimbly and effortlessly dodged as he was trained to. Unfortunately, the man didn't. This would be the last mistake of his life. Another red beam, glowing brightly in the dark, moonless light, cut the man at an angle from the waste. The body, as if to say "Where are my legs?" fell over and instantly killed him. He calmly pulled a short, black dagger, the symbol of his employers, and stabbed it into the door. The shadow then picked up and bag and walked calmly off. He didn't know that this would eventually bring about his death . He didn't understand he had just taken apart most of a family without as much as the blink of an eye. Just another body.
The red beam of light, brighter than the sun at high noon, cut through the human’s soft, white flesh easier than a hot knife through freshly baked bread. As blood gushed out, the heart didn't seem to understand that death was inevitable and continued to frantically pump blood, trying to recover the blood that was dousing the helpless victim. This didn't seem to matter much to the criminal who had simply killed another person without after-thought. Consciences were for the weak. And unlike so many of his partners, he didn't stay awake at night knowing he had ended another one's life, something that had taken approximately 11,680 days to come to bloom, and had been, unsaddly to him, cut short. Nor did he think of the victim’s family, if he could sleep it off, they could to. Or he would happily send them to the grave with their beloved son. Just another human, just another body. The police would be after him, but then, they always were. Just another inconvience. And the additional death would be added to him sentence, not that you can make the death sentence any worse, and certainly to the reward. Not that anyone had dared to try to capture him after what he had done last time.
The woman, having heard the last scream of the recent-victim, and last sound of her life, hurried in the room from which it came only to see her son dead and a man above him. What she didn't know was that this "man" really was no man at all. The shadows seemed to swirl around him making a clear glance at him hard on the eyes. This coped with his all black coat and black studded armor made it even harder on her weak human eyes.
She wanted to scream, to ask why, to question. Why would someone kill anyone? Why her son? In this split second she asked herself this question she too was cut apart. And thus her last thought, and thought her other son would soon think, why?
This "man" had never thought this in his life. He receives a mission, he fulfills a mission. There is no why to a mercenary, an assassin. There is only how, and who. Time to go, the sooner he could collect his pay, the sooner he could pay off his debts. The evil debt's that had gotten him into this mindless business in the first place...
What he didn't know was that another inconvience was heading home to see his wife and kid. As he jumped out the window, shattering the cheap glass into many pieces, the father caught by surprise, looked up and dropped his bag. The bag with the project he had been working on all day. Not just any project, a secret project that was the "why?" in this case. Luckily, or unluckily for him, the "project" didn't break. As soon as he had unsheathed his sword his arm was off, withering on the floor.
"Is this it?" the shadow "man" asked. This only caused the man to get up and try to attack the shadow again. He nimbly and effortlessly dodged as he was trained to. Unfortunately, the man didn't. This would be the last mistake of his life. Another red beam, glowing brightly in the dark, moonless light, cut the man at an angle from the waste. The body, as if to say "Where are my legs?" fell over and instantly killed him. He calmly pulled a short, black dagger, the symbol of his employers, and stabbed it into the door. The shadow then picked up and bag and walked calmly off. He didn't know that this would eventually bring about his death . He didn't understand he had just taken apart most of a family without as much as the blink of an eye. Just another body.