the grass blew gently around him as the wind came thru the valley, blowing on the scene laying before him. he leaned back, hands behind him, supporting him, in the sticky mess of blood that lay in pools on and around him. this was his first battle and he already hoped he never reached the all-sought-after 100. it was the worst hours of his life, he wished he was never discovered from the secret room in the basement with his mother, but that was how it worked in the times of war. he looked around and saw the Horse-Riders coming around to examine which fallen soilders were really dead, as he looked, they discovered one of probably many Hiders. Hiders is what they called the people who hid amongst the dead trying to escape further battles, and although he hated fighting, and secretly hoped he would die before he had to kill, wouldnt ever hide, he had to get at least to Orthyna, at least to his mother. the problem was that they werent planned in that area for at least 5 years. thats about 20 battles, in which time he would have to kill at least once. he dreaded it, but had to save his mother from the Camps. he lay rememberingthoughts of his mother, of picnics and of sunny days, then thoughts of holding her as they lay in a dark alley, or a forgotten corner of some abandon building, then, where his thoughts ussually end up, his last time seeing his mother as he was dragged away from her. as he came to this finnal thought he was kicked in the elbow, causing him to topple over onto his side. as he sat back up, holding a hand up to block the sun from his eyes, he heard a voice telling him to get down with the other troops at the base of the far hill. "i cant," he responded," my leg is wounded." "thats not my problem, obviosly its not that bad," the voice said, "because you made it all the way over here, away from the battling." as the man stepped forward, probably to kick him in the side this time, Clark got a look at the man who had attacked him. he was tall with dark hair, barely poking thru his helmet, and he was wide. Clark wouldnt have been able to wrap his arms around the guy if he tried, or dared, touching a Horse-Rider was liable to get him put in the front-lines, as was dissobeying him. "im warning you, get down there. im not going to waste time on a filthy little Magik like you" the man's voice was commanding, "Hecould rock a building to the ground if he yelled" thought Clark, getting to his feet, careful of his injured left leg. the man scowled at him, "there you go," he said unsincerely "you can walk now then cant you. THEN GET YOURE BUTT DOWN THERE BEFORE I PUT YOU THERE MYSELF!" Clark limped down the hill, falling ever couple of steps, but not letting that slow him down any, not wanting to give the man any reason to harm him further. as he approached the growing collection of Magiks, Horse-Riders, Morphers, and Leaders. Clark could only see 5 of the 6 Leaders that had gone into battle, but that didnt matter, people died in battles, all that mattered was that Clark could see his Leader, Tylor. as he slowly got closer to Tylor and the present members of his group, his leg began throbing more and more, and by the time he got within yelling-range of them he was collapsing. lucky for him though, his best friend, and only other Magik in his group, Serge saw him and ran to him to help walk the last short distance to Tylor. once they made it to the rest of the group, Tylor informed them that the 7 people here were all that was left of the 20 they came in with, but for their first battle they did good. they rested up and ate supper after all the casualties had been recorded. Clark fell asleep immediately, unsure if he should be proud of living, or guilty of abandoning his friends when they needed him. sleep slowly took him though, pushing these feelings away until he awakes.
I like this! It might help to organize the text a bit, with things like new paragraphs, using spacing, and grammar, but the storyline is really cool. It's obviously got a complex plot, and I really enjoyed reading it. I think you should keep going. You're a great writer and you should keep writing.
cool thnx, and i agree about the grammar, i dont type, so it is odd trying to type as fast as im thinking, and while i was typing, if i would write a line or two, then look up and see i had messed up on a previous line, to fix it i would have to rewrite everything after it...that kinda sucked. and reading what i just put, i over-use commas too, huh? whatever, cool, ill continue the story.
Maybe you could write it out on an application on your computer. It might help you see the mistakes and look over the whole story at once. It gets annoying having the small text box that we have here.
Clark awoke with a start, aware that he was sweating like crazy. he looked down and saw that his sheets were covered in dark patches. he tried to remember about what he was dreaming of, and couldn't, only that it had to do with the OTHER Clark, the one in his dreams, the one noone but him and his best friend Sam knew about, and the one that his mother mustn't ever find out about, or she would send him away faster than he could explain that he wasn't crazy. thinking of his mother, and if she had woken up yet to go to work, he looked at his clock and saw the comforting red numbers flash 6:37, his mom was still asleep, and he had time to get ready for school before she woke up. he got out of bed and slowly walked to the closet, avoiding the spot in the floor beside his desk where the floor creaked, and pulled out his favorite shirt and pants. he grabbed the pants and slid into them, holding the wall as support. then the shirt and last his socks, he didn't want to have to walk by his mother's room again. once he was sure he had everything he was going to need, he opened up his door, and walked quietly down the hall, past his mom's door, which was open a crack, and into the kitchen. he got out a bowl of cereal and poured it, then sat down to eat quietly. as he sat there he began thinking. thinking of anything that would rest in his mind long enough for him to grasp it. thoughts of his deceased father quickly began jumping around his head as they do, thoughts of what his father had been like, what they'd of done together, and thoughts of how he had died. Clark's father had died when he had been only 5 years old. he has vague memories of a man with a short, shaggy beard, and deep green eyes. he remembers the time he had hid in the back of his dad's truck, and how mad his dad had been when he found out. other than these, and the few that come to him in dreams as faded memories, when the OTHER Clark isnt invading them, he has no recollection of his dad, he only remembers staying up until late, waiting with his mother for the man who would never be back. Clark got up and put his bowl in the sink, and as he went to move his hair out of his eyes, he brushed his cheeks, discovering that he had been crying. he brushed the tears away and set the bowl down. he looked at the cloack above him and saw the frog legs pointing out the time, his mom loved little knick-knacks, espiecially frogs. it was a quarter after seven, he needed to get out of here if he wanted to get to Sam's in time to tell him about last nights dream before school. Clark got his stuff together and was walking out the door just as his mom came out of her room, he just barely caught a muffled, "love ya" as he closed the door.
This is a really cool idea. I want to see how it develops more, and then maybe I can give you some help, but right now you should focus on your structure. Your paragraphing is good, but make sure you capitalize the proper words, and don't let your sentences run on. But other than that, if this is your first story, you have a great future in writing.
cool thanks, id continue it tonightt, except for the fact that i am TIRED, and so im making a movie with paint...and if thats not enough, in about 2 days i will start making flash games for my class...i have no more free time....but i WILL work on it more, just not tonight...see yall tommorow.
"So he really was in a battle? Wow, and he lived. Was there fireballs flying everywhere, explosions and trees falling, and..." Sam went on like this for the hour that Clark sat there before school, and at every question, and every responding no, he still seemed more excited about battles. Sam loved all sorts of mythology and fairy tales, but must of all he loved Clark's dreams of the OTHER Clark as they called him. He wanted to know EVRYTHING about him, and whenever Clark was too tiredd to tell him, or didnt have an answer for his questions, Sam got really upset. Once, Sam actually put Clark in a headlock until he told because he thought it was going to be some big secret mission. As the hour dragged on though, and Sam asked more and more ridiculous questions about dragons and monsters, Clark began letting his mind wonder again, but this time with thoughts of the OTHER Clark. He didn't like calling him the OTHER Clark, but didn't have any other name for him, they were both Clark, and he was the other one, so he sometime imagined that he WAS him. This only egged Sam on though, with the notion that his friend could also be this magical kid in another world, Sam would go crazy trying to figure it out. "Maybe it was a past life in another world, or better yet, it is YOU in the future! Or what if you and him are parallels, like in that movie we saw where the dude went to all the other universes and killed himself in those. What if you and him are the oonly ones left in the whole EVERYTHING, what if someone tries to kill you! What would i do..." said Sam as they walked down the chilly street. "Stop! Noone is going to try and kill me," Clark said, laughing at how serious Sam was about this,"I am not going to be killed, the OTHER Clark probably doesn't even exsist, its just dreams i have." "O yeah, than how come when he got beat up that one time, you're stomach was upset and you had a headache for 2 days! What about that, you guys are connected in someway." Sam said, like that proved anything. "Okay dude, if you say so, with all you're knowledge and you're C's, you think you have figured out something that noone, not even the smartest people on EARTH could figure out." Clark was messing with hom now, Sam hated when he brought up the C. Sam had only ever gotten one, and it was because of some girl he had been passing notes with during the test, Sam had had a MAJOR crush on her, but then he "buckled down" and told her that she was ugly the next day, and she never talked to him. "Hey! That was once! Ever! Stop bringing thay up." "If you say so,..." "I say so," "Then don't act like you have some big idea about the universe and my dreams," Sam scowled at him, "Fine, just dont bring up that C, my dad still doesnt know about it, and im going to leave it that way." "Okay, and did you do the assignment last night? It was easy" Clark said as they walked into the school. "Yeah. See ya, i got to go to the councelor's office to talk to her about getting my next semester classes, bye" "Bye, see you at lunch." Clark turned and walked into the hallway that lead to his first period classroom.
Clark awoke, unaware that hundreds pf miles away his mother just woke up thinking of him too, as she usually did. He was aware of a throbbing on his lower leg though, then he remembered the battle they had had the day before, and how that Leaders death had been his fault. It was his fault for just standing there, for just watching, and his fault that when the Leader finnaly took his last breath and died, he hadn't been there to send him to the Next Time. "His spirit will always haunt me," thought Clark, "because it's my fault he is still here, and not There." Serge brought him out of these nightmarish thoughts with a gentle shove. "What did you say? I wasn't paying attention, sorry." Clark said, realizing that Serge had been talking to him. "I said, how is your leg, is it healing up, you got slashed in the back of your thigh?" "Ooo, it's fine i guess, i can walk, i got from supper to my bed fine, but it feels a little stiff, i will need to stretch it out." "Ok, good, because we are pulling out of this area sooner than expected, Northo surrendered. We are all going on to the mountain lands now. Well, who's left is, the death toll came up to 64. We will be meeting with another group up ahead, after another battle, than we are merging the two." Serge explained, he was always "learning" stuff in ways he wouldn't share. "And you know all this how?" asked Clark, knowing he wouldn't answer honestly if at all. "I heard it while I was out walking this morning" Serge said, not meeting Clark's eyes. "Okay, well I'm going to be a minute or two more before I can get up and start walking around, will we be doing breakfast before we head out?" "You only get some if you hurry, it is getting eaten up. You better be quick." Serge yelled back as he left Clark in his their tent. It was only their tent though, because they were the only Magiks in this group. Clark wondered if there are some Magiks left in the other group. He hurriedly got dressed and ran out to the fire where there was food. as he approached he saw the reamains of the meal, just some burnt meat and brad crumbs. Clark slowed down and looked at what was there before him, suddenly not hungry for the small amount of edible material in there. He decided to skip breakfast, knowing he would regret it later as him and Serge rotated carrying their tent and supplies, and go for a short walk arounf the camp. He walked slow at first, trying not to put to much strain on his leg, then sped up a little more, and a little more, until he found himself doing laps arounf the camp. Once he actually got running, he only did maybe 6 or 7 laps around the small, and shrinking, camp. As he approached where their tent was, he saw that Serge had packed it all up, leaving lying there for him to carry. They did this to eachother more and more as they traveled it seemed, whoever packed it up didn't have to carry it first. "There you go," said Serge, sneaking up behind Clark, "all packed, you ready to carry it?" "Yeah, i guess so, when do we leave?" "About 5 minutes, so strap it up and lets go. Need any help?" "No, i got it. Let's just go, we should leave as early as possible, so we don't have any chance of running into any more troops."
After marching for hours straight, Clark was beginning to regret not eating those scraps. He had been hungry as they came to the mountain, but thought that they might stop for a brief snack and rest before going over, but they didn't, they didn't even stop at the TOP of the mountain, they marched staright thru untill past when the sun was highest. Even then, though, it was awhile before they stopped, at least another hour. By the time they did stop, he wasn't the only person in the group ravished, and making a point of letting everyone know it. As the food was passed around Clark noticed at least two people take more than thier fair ration, he didn't say anything though, if he did not only would the people he snitched on probably hold a grudge, the whole group would get a lecture. he wasn't in the mood and just let it slip. As he ate, he looked out over the area ahead of them, it looked like it was realitively flat, meaning that they had made it out of the mountains, well through the mountains, in their journey so far, and Clark had a feeling that it was maybe half over. Him and Serge switched the backpack, feeling he was being cheated for having to carry it thru the mountains, and when he told Serge this, his response was, "Well, it could have been me, so who knows maybe next time it will be, thats how it works. Better luck next time." Clark's assumption was right, they did travel for hours more, well into the night. The Leader wouldn't say why though, his answer to anyone who asked about it was that they could stop right here if they wanted, but the clothes, food, and supplies stay with the group and that usually shut the brave questioneer up. When they finnaly reached what was apperently their destination, it was well into the night and noone could see anything on the horizon, the moon didn't even provide a little light to see by as they set up, as it was hiding behind the clouds. Many of the group didn't even set up a tent, not wanting to be up longer and not wanting to figure it out in the dark. Of these was Clark and Serge, they knew that the clouds might burst over them in the night, and in fact probably would, but they just wanted to sleep, so they curled up under a few blankets dug out of the pack and lay down on the ground. This method of travel was how they went for 6 nights, traveling from day break into the night, going as far as they could each day. That is, until the 6th night when the leader stopped at sunset and told them all to look west at the horizon. Many, Clark included, saw nothing, but a few good eyes saw what they claimed looked like a town. "That's right," the leader said, " it is Monsogoba. That is our next battle. We will sleep out here, and in the morning, with the sun at our backs, we shall attack. It is a strong city, so we will need any advantage we can get. After that battle though, we shall meet the other forces a little further beyond, two days journey i think." This news frightened and joyed them, they were scared of what they may have to face, but were very excited of not being such a small group. They all prepared for sleep, some in low moods, some with high hopes, and many scattered between. Once they all slept, though, there was one who had fear on his heart, but not for fear of losing the battle ahead. This young heart was fearful for his family, his sister, mother, and father lived in this city, and he planned to save them. So when everyone else was asleep, he slipped into a maze of labrynthing tunnels that only one from the city knew the paths of, and slipped silently into his old town of which he had been taken, similar to Clark, prepared to warn the people of the army approaching.
