Into the Forest [Chapter 1]
Mar. 9th, 2009 06:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
esp_dragonFandom: Original
Summary: God, why? Why him? Why had they chosen him to use?
Rating: K
Notes: Ahaha, I sooo need a better title.
For my Creative Writing class. Write a short story based on any one of the following first lines: d) It hadn't rained for weeks...
I've started writing the continuation from one of the other first lines.
It seems... cliché to me. =/ I doubt anyone else from the class'll have the same idea as me, but in general, for how this plot's executed, it seems cliché.
You know all the stories where people don't use semi-colons? I think I've picked them all up and dumped them in here. ^ ^;;
Slippy, apparently, isn't a proper word.
I never know what genre my stories are...
See anything I need to change? Tell me please. ^ ^
Genre: Mystery/Adventure
Word count: 986
Status: Work in Progress.
It hadn't rained for weeks, he could tell from the dryness of the soil underneath his feet and how the air smelled. But maybe that wasn't true. Everything was different, so very different from what he remembered the last time he had been to a place similar to this. Things were too sharp, too loud, and his skin tingled, feeling like they were sensitive to everything. He was too exposed, too out in the open; he needed to hide.
He was far enough now to see only the dim illumination of the compound as a small dome of light above the trees, but that was still far too close. Being on the same continent as that place was too close. He shivered, unwanted memories coming back and replaying over and over.
God, why? Why him? Why had they chosen him to use?
He took a shaky breath and started moving; he didn't realise he'd even stopped. It wouldn't do him any good if he got caught again. This could be the only chance he got to escape; if they got him back, he'd probably never see daylight again, only ever seeing their faces behind the masks while he was strapped to the table.
Maybe they'd drugged him; that could explain why everything seemed so alien again. Or all this was just a dream and he was still in the thin, musky bed. If he was really lucky, this was all just a nightmare and he was going to wake up soon, back in his house, Mandy playing whatever new pop band she was interested in at that moment loud enough to be heard through all the walls in the house. She was such a brat.
But he'd been hoping for that for too long now. Being there had changed him, in more ways than he wanted to admit.
What time was it? How long had he been stumbling in the dark for? Had they noticed, had they realised he was gone?
Or was this just another test? Had they let him escape? He slowed down, toes furrowing in the ground. It couldn't be. Was he just running, panicking and during all that time, they were watching him and taking notes? Being amused at his reactions to certain things, like thinking he was free?
He gritted his teeth and ploughed on. 'Don't think like that; you think like that and they'll have you back in that cell before the sun rises.'
The motivational self-talk didn't last for long, memories being triggered by pain and by tiredness overwhelming his determination. If there was a way to shut off his brain, it would have made things a lot easier.
He took another deep breath and ducked under a low branch. Focus on something else; focus on just getting as far away from this hell as possible and then be paranoid if it's all real or when people are going to burst in through the door pointing guns.
The ground was slippy under his feet. It didn't look like it, but it was. His hands and trousers were stained from when he'd misjudged just how slippy it was or he'd somehow missed a root. Because, even though it was pitch black, and the moon was pitifully trying to make its presence known, he could still see clearly; in some ways, it was like the night vision on cameras, but in others, it wasn't just a monochrome of green - there were other colours too. Green meant plant life, he'd figured that out as soon as he'd made it outside, but with living things, that was harder to put into a neat category. Each living thing he saw had their own colour; their shade, their brightness were all completely unique. That he'd seen so far, anyway.
He had laughed hysterically when he'd realised what it was he was seeing: auras. He could see what a person was feeling because the colour would change depending on the emotion. Not enough to actually change the 'base colour' completely, but it tinted it enough to be seen. The only reason how he knew the word was because Mandy had left one of those books lying around one day when he was bored and he'd read it, scoffing and wondering how anyone could believe a single word that had been typed. Now he was proof that people really could see them.
He wished he didn't.
The good thing was that he could 'turn it off', but only if he wanted to and not needed to. There, actually, was a difference between them. The scientists had tried to explain it to him but they were using jargon that flew over his head – he'd also been desperately trying to 'turn it off' at the same time, freaked out by the sudden shift in his sight. It did help that he could do that, but it wasn't enough. He knew that it was still there, that he could still see more than what a person was supposed to if he wanted.
Hearing was the other sense that had been altered the most; that couldn't be turned off so easily, only toned down. His sense of smell and taste hadn't, thankfully, as far as he was aware, been changed. He wasn't sure about touch yet.
A siren suddenly wailed in the distance, tinny at first, until it started to merge with its echo. He guessed they'd finally found that he wasn't in his room anymore. So, he wasn't a mouse in a maze like he'd thought he was.
Now he really didn't have time to think about things.
Keep going. Run. Escape. 'Then hope that you can hide what you can do from the rest of the world and that no-one else takes an interest in you.'
Maybe he could actually do this. Morale boosted, he plunged deeper into the forest, getting further and further away with each step.
Summary: God, why? Why him? Why had they chosen him to use?
Rating: K
Notes: Ahaha, I sooo need a better title.
For my Creative Writing class. Write a short story based on any one of the following first lines: d) It hadn't rained for weeks...
I've started writing the continuation from one of the other first lines.
It seems... cliché to me. =/ I doubt anyone else from the class'll have the same idea as me, but in general, for how this plot's executed, it seems cliché.
You know all the stories where people don't use semi-colons? I think I've picked them all up and dumped them in here. ^ ^;;
Slippy, apparently, isn't a proper word.
I never know what genre my stories are...
See anything I need to change? Tell me please. ^ ^
Genre: Mystery/Adventure
Word count: 986
Status: Work in Progress.
It hadn't rained for weeks, he could tell from the dryness of the soil underneath his feet and how the air smelled. But maybe that wasn't true. Everything was different, so very different from what he remembered the last time he had been to a place similar to this. Things were too sharp, too loud, and his skin tingled, feeling like they were sensitive to everything. He was too exposed, too out in the open; he needed to hide.
He was far enough now to see only the dim illumination of the compound as a small dome of light above the trees, but that was still far too close. Being on the same continent as that place was too close. He shivered, unwanted memories coming back and replaying over and over.
God, why? Why him? Why had they chosen him to use?
He took a shaky breath and started moving; he didn't realise he'd even stopped. It wouldn't do him any good if he got caught again. This could be the only chance he got to escape; if they got him back, he'd probably never see daylight again, only ever seeing their faces behind the masks while he was strapped to the table.
Maybe they'd drugged him; that could explain why everything seemed so alien again. Or all this was just a dream and he was still in the thin, musky bed. If he was really lucky, this was all just a nightmare and he was going to wake up soon, back in his house, Mandy playing whatever new pop band she was interested in at that moment loud enough to be heard through all the walls in the house. She was such a brat.
But he'd been hoping for that for too long now. Being there had changed him, in more ways than he wanted to admit.
What time was it? How long had he been stumbling in the dark for? Had they noticed, had they realised he was gone?
Or was this just another test? Had they let him escape? He slowed down, toes furrowing in the ground. It couldn't be. Was he just running, panicking and during all that time, they were watching him and taking notes? Being amused at his reactions to certain things, like thinking he was free?
He gritted his teeth and ploughed on. 'Don't think like that; you think like that and they'll have you back in that cell before the sun rises.'
The motivational self-talk didn't last for long, memories being triggered by pain and by tiredness overwhelming his determination. If there was a way to shut off his brain, it would have made things a lot easier.
He took another deep breath and ducked under a low branch. Focus on something else; focus on just getting as far away from this hell as possible and then be paranoid if it's all real or when people are going to burst in through the door pointing guns.
The ground was slippy under his feet. It didn't look like it, but it was. His hands and trousers were stained from when he'd misjudged just how slippy it was or he'd somehow missed a root. Because, even though it was pitch black, and the moon was pitifully trying to make its presence known, he could still see clearly; in some ways, it was like the night vision on cameras, but in others, it wasn't just a monochrome of green - there were other colours too. Green meant plant life, he'd figured that out as soon as he'd made it outside, but with living things, that was harder to put into a neat category. Each living thing he saw had their own colour; their shade, their brightness were all completely unique. That he'd seen so far, anyway.
He had laughed hysterically when he'd realised what it was he was seeing: auras. He could see what a person was feeling because the colour would change depending on the emotion. Not enough to actually change the 'base colour' completely, but it tinted it enough to be seen. The only reason how he knew the word was because Mandy had left one of those books lying around one day when he was bored and he'd read it, scoffing and wondering how anyone could believe a single word that had been typed. Now he was proof that people really could see them.
He wished he didn't.
The good thing was that he could 'turn it off', but only if he wanted to and not needed to. There, actually, was a difference between them. The scientists had tried to explain it to him but they were using jargon that flew over his head – he'd also been desperately trying to 'turn it off' at the same time, freaked out by the sudden shift in his sight. It did help that he could do that, but it wasn't enough. He knew that it was still there, that he could still see more than what a person was supposed to if he wanted.
Hearing was the other sense that had been altered the most; that couldn't be turned off so easily, only toned down. His sense of smell and taste hadn't, thankfully, as far as he was aware, been changed. He wasn't sure about touch yet.
A siren suddenly wailed in the distance, tinny at first, until it started to merge with its echo. He guessed they'd finally found that he wasn't in his room anymore. So, he wasn't a mouse in a maze like he'd thought he was.
Now he really didn't have time to think about things.
Keep going. Run. Escape. 'Then hope that you can hide what you can do from the rest of the world and that no-one else takes an interest in you.'
Maybe he could actually do this. Morale boosted, he plunged deeper into the forest, getting further and further away with each step.