Gothic.net Community - View Single Post - Walking With Shadows (Opening scene) Rated-R

drgnlvr · 04-29-2005, 06:52 PM

The watcher dropped the body of the girl unceremoniously onto the wet ground. Her eyes stared unseeing at the lightening, overcast sky, her face forever frozen in a rictus of terror. The bloodless gash of her mouth mimicked the one across her throat. Her clothes were no longer the color they once were, but red with the blood from the slit at her throat, and the wound in her abdomen.

He dropped to his knees between her and a rocky mound covered in red clay and brown, dead weeds. He carefully moved aside the weeds at the base, and manipulated a fist-sized stone out of the entrance of what was once a fox den.

He pulled a small clay jar from a pocket of the trench coat. It was unadorned except for a small symbol painted on the side with the same pitch that sealed the lid. He crouched low to reach back as far as he could, unmindful of the water on the ground, and left the jar in the old abandoned den.

After closing the hole back up, and putting the weeds back in place, he got to his feet. His concern for the body ended the moment he dropped her to the ground. This was wilderness. Chances of her being found, and identifiable were slim.

He looked off to the east, where the sky was getting lighter, and the line of clouds in the distance come to an abrupt end.

The sky was a clear blue in the distance, and rapidly moving his direction. Soon the sun, itself would shine brightly on what looked to be a brilliant spring day.

The watcher ran in the opposite direction.

The terminator between overcast and clear crept closer, threatening to overtake him. He didn’t look back. He could feel it gaining on him.

A sheer red cliff-face loomed ahead, bare except for the scrub brush along the base. His arms and legs pumped as he poured all the power he had to charge right at the cliff. The wet clay clinging to the soles of his boots fought against his need to hurry.

He slipped but caught himself, pushing off the ground with one hand, and propelling himself forward. The sunlight licked at his heels. Sparks of static electricity jumped from his boots along with the dead grass and bits of mud.

As the light crept up his legs, more sparks flew from him, and he was still about 100 feet from safety. Sweat poured off him as he pushed himself to his physical limits.

50 feet away from the cliff.

The sun hit his ass. He grimaced and growled.

At about 20 feet from the scrub brush, the sun hit his back, and bolts of blue lighting leapt from him, and swirled around him in a vortex.

A few more steps. He howled and dove into the scrub just as the sun hit full-on to the cliff-face.

He tucked and rolled into the cave, and away from reach of the sunlight. He remained on the cold floor in a tight ball, trembling and groaning softly, as the bolts and sparks of static slowly died down.

04-29-2005, 06:52 PM	#12
drgnlvr Join Date: Feb 2005 Posts: 411	The watcher dropped the body of the girl unceremoniously onto the wet ground. Her eyes stared unseeing at the lightening, overcast sky, her face forever frozen in a rictus of terror. The bloodless gash of her mouth mimicked the one across her throat. Her clothes were no longer the color they once were, but red with the blood from the slit at her throat, and the wound in her abdomen. He dropped to his knees between her and a rocky mound covered in red clay and brown, dead weeds. He carefully moved aside the weeds at the base, and manipulated a fist-sized stone out of the entrance of what was once a fox den. He pulled a small clay jar from a pocket of the trench coat. It was unadorned except for a small symbol painted on the side with the same pitch that sealed the lid. He crouched low to reach back as far as he could, unmindful of the water on the ground, and left the jar in the old abandoned den. After closing the hole back up, and putting the weeds back in place, he got to his feet. His concern for the body ended the moment he dropped her to the ground. This was wilderness. Chances of her being found, and identifiable were slim. He looked off to the east, where the sky was getting lighter, and the line of clouds in the distance come to an abrupt end. The sky was a clear blue in the distance, and rapidly moving his direction. Soon the sun, itself would shine brightly on what looked to be a brilliant spring day. The watcher ran in the opposite direction. The terminator between overcast and clear crept closer, threatening to overtake him. He didn’t look back. He could feel it gaining on him. A sheer red cliff-face loomed ahead, bare except for the scrub brush along the base. His arms and legs pumped as he poured all the power he had to charge right at the cliff. The wet clay clinging to the soles of his boots fought against his need to hurry. He slipped but caught himself, pushing off the ground with one hand, and propelling himself forward. The sunlight licked at his heels. Sparks of static electricity jumped from his boots along with the dead grass and bits of mud. As the light crept up his legs, more sparks flew from him, and he was still about 100 feet from safety. Sweat poured off him as he pushed himself to his physical limits. 50 feet away from the cliff. The sun hit his ass. He grimaced and growled. At about 20 feet from the scrub brush, the sun hit his back, and bolts of blue lighting leapt from him, and swirled around him in a vortex. A few more steps. He howled and dove into the scrub just as the sun hit full-on to the cliff-face. He tucked and rolled into the cave, and away from reach of the sunlight. He remained on the cold floor in a tight ball, trembling and groaning softly, as the bolts and sparks of static slowly died down. __________________ Lover, Bard, Phone Monkey, and MILF!