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I'm attempting to write a book, hoping that it might turn into a career (shocking that a forum RP addict wants to write for a living). Here is a peek at what I've been working on. Please feel free to say anything at all about it. Praise, criticisms, however you feel, please post something if you read it. Also keep in mind as you read that I'm fourteen, still lots of time to improve.
He was parched. No, parched was putting it lightly. Saying he was parched was like calling rockets sort of fast, it was calling the universe a wee bit big. The thirst that overtook his being was beyond simply being parched. He hadn’t had a drink for days as he trekked through the unforgiving land. Currently he was pressing through bleached-white sand, the desert stretching out all around him. Water was in small lakes around him, mocking him with their salt water. To his right was a small hill of sand, behind which lurked a sand scavenger, as he’d begin to think of them. It’s puffed yellow eyes tracked him from behind the dune, seemingly unaware that its presence was known to him. The sand scavenger stood on four legs which connected to a heightened abdomen, from the top of which two tentacle-like clawed arms, as well as a craned neck which connected it’s beaked head to its abdomen. The head, besides having the puffed yellow eyes, had what appeared to be slits in place of a nose, and the beak was filled with jagged teeth which were made for tearing, not chewing. Dulled yellow scales covered the creature, and black spots adorned it at seemingly random intervals down the neck and arms. Altogether, the creature was three feet tall, and only one and a half feet wide.
He knew what it wanted. They always wanted the same thing. He drew his gun Piercer from its holster, felt the cool wooden and metal handle of the one constant companion he’d had through his ordeal. Damn corpse eater he thought to himself as he pulled the smooth trigger of his weapon, jettisoning the metal slug which sped its way straight through the hill, ending its journey as it severed the sand scavenger’s head from the rest of the neck, which ran around for a few seconds before collapsing on the ground, a red puddle around it. Walking up to the creature, he took off his skin-pack, made from the outer layer of different animals he’d met on his journey of survival. From the pack he removed his knife, a sharpened piece of bone. With vigor he began cutting the flesh off of the creature’s body, doing what the scavenger had planned to do with him. Cooking was a luxury that he had to be without for the moment, and so he just began munching off the strip of flesh, the raw meat holding his hunger at bay while the blood of the animal temporarily drove off the thirst which had maddened him for a while.
Resting was another luxury that was out of his reach. It was no sooner that he had eaten what he could of the horrific creature that he had to move on. There were footprints in the sand, and they represented his last hope of surviving. So he started walking again, quickening his pace now that he had food in his belly. Within an hour the desert was behind him, and now he faced the dangers of a jungle. Creatures were everywhere, some were the hunters, some were the hunted. He was both. Walking at a steady pace, he made his way through the jumble of trees, vines, and leaves. Broken twigs, bent plants and the occasional remnant of trash was al that kept him on the trail of whoever made the foot-prints. Pressing onward, he pushed his way through wave after wave of nearly identical leaves, rounded ones that resembled a flattened half of a capsule. The repetition of leaves ended abruptly when a particularly large leaf did not allow itself to be pushed out of the way, and in fact grabbed him as he tried to move by it. The leaf wrapped around his gun arm, and Piercer fell from his grasp. The leaf gripped tighter and tighter, and it began to rise, taking with it his arm, the rest of him right behind.
He was dragged through foliage, struggling as what seemed to be the only living leaf in the forest pulled him further and further up. Eventually both he and the leaf went higher than the other leaves, and he saw what had really been dragging him. On the top of one of the many leaf-drenched trees was a figure. It stood on two legs and appeared to have two arms which ended in webbed hands. The figure appeared to be an amphibian, and besides the number of arms and legs it was hard to mistake it for human. For one thing, the creature’s skin was green, sort of like camouflage green that striped in dark green, light green, dark green, light green all over the creature’s body. Although the general shape of the creature resembled human, its head was large and frog-like, with a large sac almost clinging to its chin. Out of the creature’s mouth was its tongue, and it was this tongue which had dragged him up through the forest. This unnaturally long and muscular tongue was as green as the leaves, making it the perfect trap for whatever ill-fated meal-to-be ventured through the leaves. As of now the tongue was still pulling on his arm, getting him closer and closer to its mouth. Has it been ten seconds? He thought to himself as the hungry amphibian drew him closer and closer, small razors of teeth differing this predator from most of an amphibious nature. Feeling for the tied-shut pants pocket which served as his gun holster, he was relieved to once again feel the metal of his hand-held piece of death.
He drew Piercer, aiming it squarely at the sac on the thing’s chin, and hoped that it was somehow vital to the thing’s existence. He had to use his left hand, considering the right was currently in a saliva covered tongue. The first shot missed completely, but he managed to pull the reshot stick down and up with practiced speed. The second shot grazed the things shoulder, but the tongues rate of speed toward the man-sized thing did not deteriorate despite the introduction of a clear, viscous fluid which oozed from the wound. Another quick down-and-up of the reshot stick, and the third shot was a bulls-eye. It would have been embarrassing to have another miss, as by this time he was close enough to the creature to smell its swampy odor, a mixture of pond scum and old bones. The expectation was that the sac would have been damaged by the bullet, possibly severed. Instead, it erupted, splitting into many different flaps of skin as large rolls of tongue began to fell through the air, no longer held in by what must have been the things tongue sac.
Screaming in a disturbing, wet-sounding howl, the thing’s tongue went limp and he fell, desperately grabbing at the leaves in order to lessen his quick descent. After several seconds of rapidly decreased altitude, he landed with a thud on the earthy forest floor, his gun following suit and striking him on the forehead. Grasping the Piercer, he slowly lifted himself to his feet, checking to be sure none of his limbs were broken. Picking off one of the mammoth-sized capsule leaves, he wiped the things saliva off of his arms, thanking fate that it didn’t have any acidic properties. He did one more down-up on the reshot, assuring that Piercer would be ready the moment he next needed it. And he would definitely need it again, not ten minutes in a jungle stretch of land and already he’d been preyed upon.
The worst part of having been almost eaten was that now he’d lost the tracks. Without those, he’d never find any other people, and he wasn’t sure how long he could survive by himself. Gazing at the forest all around him, he thought some of it looked familiar, maybe he was near where he’d been before the nabbing. Some of the trees looked familiar, but nearly all of the pale-grey trees looked the same, so it wasn’t much of an indicator of his location. Swearing under his breath, he scanned the ground, looking for the tracks he’d been following as if his life depended on it (which in this case it really did). His efforts were not in vain, for within minutes he’d found some yellow grass, the bent blades forming the shape of a shoe. This time he ran, needing to make up for lost time.
After five minutes of sustained running, the forest came to an abrupt end, no lessening of trees to indicate it, just a complete stop to the forest environment. A large field of tall grass covered the land here, light purple with brown lines that resembled veins running down the grass. Small rodents scampered through this grass, one with two front feet and a large back foot that allowed the little fur ball to hop large distances. There were birds staring at him from the few scattered trees, birds of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some birds with teeth in their beaks, some with four wings, and some that seemed too large to be able to fly.
All of this remained unnoticed by him, for his attention was focused elsewhere. Not twenty feet ahead of him were figures that looked distinctly human-like. These must be the ones he’d been tracking. The first people he’d seen since the start of his horrible journey, the mere sight caused immediate elation. That elation was very temporary, however, as he looked closer at the figures and saw who they were. One of them was normal sized, the others about half the size of a normal person. The tall one had a scythe, the curved blade featured on both ends, facing opposite sides. The smaller ones had abnormally long arms, seeming to lack hands but instead having multiple knives sticking out from the end of the arms. Nothing of their bodies could be seen, for they all were wearing clothes of grey which covered their entire beings. The clothes looked as if the figures had been rolled up like a scroll inside grey blankets, which had then been cut to give the shape of arms and legs. This grey roll-up covered their heads, their torso, their arms and legs, everything. The only evident holes in the cloth were in the arm holes of the small ones, where the knives stuck out in place of hands.
He smiled at the group, his insides a mix of fear and anger. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot the first time” he said calmly. “My name’s Strear, what’s yours?”
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