ragnarblackmane
Chosen of Azathoth
- Joined
- May 4, 2007
- Messages
- 38
Just going to post how far I've gotten on a post-apocalyptic novel I am writing.
Keep in mind that I have yet to edit/rework/lenthen the first chapter, so be nice.
Chapter I
I sat up quickly, unsure of where I was and who I was. Heart pounding and soaked in a cold sweat, I gasped as if I was drowning. My head swirled and ached. I realized that I had just experienced the nightmare again. Damnit, I thought. When would I be rid of that haunting nightmare. I shivered impulsively. Wiping the sweat from my feverish forehead, I swung my feet out from beneath the thin sheet I used as a blanket and planted them squarely on the wood floor. I breathed in deeply, steadying my already fraught nerves. Several moments passed by before I felt ready to move further. Using the bedpost as an aid for improving my balance, I stood up, wobbling wildly at first before I regained my composure. Looking out the window, I was treated to the sight of the blinding sun, crawling brilliantly across the azure sky, making its daily trip around the earth. Birds chirupped happily, oblivious to my lamentable disposition. I scowled, irritated by the noise. A migraine was commencing its painful application on me. I decided to wash myself in a nearby river. Unfortunately, it was as cold as ice; Nevertheless, it was the sole source of clean water, and I was filthy. After cleansing myself in the frigidly cold waters, I proceeded to dress myself in attire suitably appropriate for the fiercely cold winds. A pair of dark blue jeans, faded in some places to a bleached white, numerous of rips and holes decorating the fabric, plain white t-shirt, an old long-sleeved shirt of some greenish color, and lastly a worn leather jacket as black as the night. Subconsciously, I was aware that I was to depart this day, but I still thought of it as one of the repetitive days I endure. But, as the morning turned into early afternoon, I was struck by the notion that I would truly leave here today, likely to never see this place again. While a sense of anxiety was seemingly overwhelming me, there was also a much more subtle emotion, a flourishing of hope perhaps, buried far beneath the negative emotion.
According to the sun dial located in my chaotic mess of a front yard, it was half-past one. I decided it was the proper time in which to start packing the neccessities required by my proposed traveling. A very old, cracked compass that still managed to work, a recently whetted knife, two mismatching gloves of some rough or treated leather, a ruck-sack in which to carry my more personal effects, two canteens filled with clean water, some canned goods, a silver lighter, rolling papers with a couple pouches of tobacco, a rusty spade, and several dining utensils, not to mention a wool blanket.
As I walked away from my home, gazing back in a trance-like state at my property, knowing I would never return, I experienced a twinge of regret. No amount of hope could ever satiate my desire to remain in familiar surroundings, safe from violence and independent of the benefits and drawbacks of an organized society. Nothing can replace your first home. I willed my feet to continue walking into the unknown abyss and I forced my head in the direction I traveled, knowing it was pointless to brood over the matter. My feet scraped along at a steady pace, right eye leaking one tear for all of the memories I experienced at my now former home. But I continued stalwartly on, strangely excited at the prospect of encountering things that I had only read in books and some even that I could never have dreamed of.
Hours passed monotonously, after which it felt as if I was walking exhaustively through thick molasses. My days of lethargic living, it seemed, had caught up to me, reducing my pace to a mere crawl. Sun beating scorchingly hot on the back of my head, legs burning with over-exertion, sweat dripping copiously from my feverish brow, I began to hallucinate wildly. Monstrous, slithering things would appear before me, hungrily observing me, patiently waiting for my eventual collapse due to fatigue. But I carried on, unwilling for the devilish creature to prevail over me and dine on my succulent flesh. By dusk, my body was stricken with intense exhaustion and debilitating thirst, not to mention agonizing aches and pains. I reached for my canteen, feebly drinking the last of the fluid contained therein. The warm, fetid water was barely sufficient for ensuring my continual survival. I scanned the land, searching for an area that could be utilized as an ephemeral campsite. Dense scrub and infrequent copses of pine dotted the landscape visible to me. The azure sky had been replaced by a darkening purple, the sun slowly descending. The sky and land appeared to be bereft of all avian wildlife. Even the land was becoming more barren, the mountanious region familiar to me transitioning into an arid, desert-like environment which I've only read about in books. A hundred feet or so ahead of my position I espied a copse of firs clustered together tightly, providing at least a modicum of shade in which to conceal myself away from the yellow orb and its scorching heat. I doubled my pace, intent on reaching my new destination. Large mosquitos pricked at my body, lusting for my warm blood. I swatted them away, irritated by their arrival. My body ached and hurt all over. I finally reached the copse, sliding myself beneath their protective wings. Needles stuck at me somewhat painfully, but I reckoned it was preferable to staying in the sweltering heat. I knew that as soon as the sun dipped into the horizon it was going to be much chillier, so I collected some nearby twigs and bunched them up into a circular position just outside the spot I took. It took me a couple of attempts before I was able to fully ignite a proper fire. Already I felt the cool gusts of wind, ominously informing me of the inevitable cold arriving soon enough. Snuggling as close as I dared to the fire, I spread my hands to encompass the flames heat. My eyes soon began to droop with weariness.
A strange sound roused me from sleep the next morning. Grunting, I blinked feebly, still quite exhausted from yesterdays traveling. What I saw shocked and startled me thoroughly. I jumped up, my head encountering the sharp needles of the fir tree. A large, shaggy dog, sitting and staring intently at me, unmoving. I realized that the sound that had awoken me was a bark emitted by this mysterious canine. I stared back at him, trying to display a nonthreatening posture. It just stared at me. The most piercing feature of the dog was the color of its matted fur. The dirty white coat it sported stood in stark contrast to our current background. Muscles bulged from this fine specimen of a dog. Intimidating but majestic despite its unclean condition. It was a magnanimous creature, ardent and noble. As I gazed at its magnificence, he tilted his head to the side. The coy gesture brought the first sincere smile to my lips in nearly three years. He barked playfully in response. My eyes widened as I recognized the animals intelligence in his dark brown eyes. Never had I read of any event in which a dog was able to correctly interpret a simple facial expression exhibited by a human. Granted, this was the first dog I had ever seen and heard, I knew somehow that this one was unique amongst its species. Instictively and without warning I reached to pet the dog on its head, forgetting my actions at the moment. He leaned forward and allowed me to pet him. His long tongue drooped from the side of his jaws and his tail wagged wildly. Chuckling, I nuzzled his ears affectionately. My disposition had improved significantly. I was completely relaxed and somewhat happy.
Two days crawled by at a slow and tedious pace. The wolf, which I had earlier mistook for some obscure variety of canine breed, I began to call by the nickname Dogmeat. Two reasons are available for this odd name. One, I had mistaken him for a dog. Two, he seemed to have a peculiar knack for locating small mammals which I would cook and he would then proceed to devour the meat voraciously. Dogmeat followed me thereafter, never once straying from my side and acting as my sole companion and friend when I was journeying. On that second day, during what I presumed was early afternoon, I rested once again. With no brush or kindling for a fire, I settled down next to Dogmeat, rubbing his ears affectionately while I gazed out to the horizon. I observed the the brilliant ball of flames and watched it sink behind the mountains near the home I had left. What I didn't comprehend was that this was an abstract symbolic moment. A cycle. It signalled two things. The end of my life and the renewing of another. This day marked a period in which I would be forever altered into a vastly different person than I knew myself to be. Amber rays shone their last breath upon my familiar face and the arrival and presence of night would herald the reformed me.
Keep in mind that I have yet to edit/rework/lenthen the first chapter, so be nice.
Chapter I
I sat up quickly, unsure of where I was and who I was. Heart pounding and soaked in a cold sweat, I gasped as if I was drowning. My head swirled and ached. I realized that I had just experienced the nightmare again. Damnit, I thought. When would I be rid of that haunting nightmare. I shivered impulsively. Wiping the sweat from my feverish forehead, I swung my feet out from beneath the thin sheet I used as a blanket and planted them squarely on the wood floor. I breathed in deeply, steadying my already fraught nerves. Several moments passed by before I felt ready to move further. Using the bedpost as an aid for improving my balance, I stood up, wobbling wildly at first before I regained my composure. Looking out the window, I was treated to the sight of the blinding sun, crawling brilliantly across the azure sky, making its daily trip around the earth. Birds chirupped happily, oblivious to my lamentable disposition. I scowled, irritated by the noise. A migraine was commencing its painful application on me. I decided to wash myself in a nearby river. Unfortunately, it was as cold as ice; Nevertheless, it was the sole source of clean water, and I was filthy. After cleansing myself in the frigidly cold waters, I proceeded to dress myself in attire suitably appropriate for the fiercely cold winds. A pair of dark blue jeans, faded in some places to a bleached white, numerous of rips and holes decorating the fabric, plain white t-shirt, an old long-sleeved shirt of some greenish color, and lastly a worn leather jacket as black as the night. Subconsciously, I was aware that I was to depart this day, but I still thought of it as one of the repetitive days I endure. But, as the morning turned into early afternoon, I was struck by the notion that I would truly leave here today, likely to never see this place again. While a sense of anxiety was seemingly overwhelming me, there was also a much more subtle emotion, a flourishing of hope perhaps, buried far beneath the negative emotion.
According to the sun dial located in my chaotic mess of a front yard, it was half-past one. I decided it was the proper time in which to start packing the neccessities required by my proposed traveling. A very old, cracked compass that still managed to work, a recently whetted knife, two mismatching gloves of some rough or treated leather, a ruck-sack in which to carry my more personal effects, two canteens filled with clean water, some canned goods, a silver lighter, rolling papers with a couple pouches of tobacco, a rusty spade, and several dining utensils, not to mention a wool blanket.
As I walked away from my home, gazing back in a trance-like state at my property, knowing I would never return, I experienced a twinge of regret. No amount of hope could ever satiate my desire to remain in familiar surroundings, safe from violence and independent of the benefits and drawbacks of an organized society. Nothing can replace your first home. I willed my feet to continue walking into the unknown abyss and I forced my head in the direction I traveled, knowing it was pointless to brood over the matter. My feet scraped along at a steady pace, right eye leaking one tear for all of the memories I experienced at my now former home. But I continued stalwartly on, strangely excited at the prospect of encountering things that I had only read in books and some even that I could never have dreamed of.
Hours passed monotonously, after which it felt as if I was walking exhaustively through thick molasses. My days of lethargic living, it seemed, had caught up to me, reducing my pace to a mere crawl. Sun beating scorchingly hot on the back of my head, legs burning with over-exertion, sweat dripping copiously from my feverish brow, I began to hallucinate wildly. Monstrous, slithering things would appear before me, hungrily observing me, patiently waiting for my eventual collapse due to fatigue. But I carried on, unwilling for the devilish creature to prevail over me and dine on my succulent flesh. By dusk, my body was stricken with intense exhaustion and debilitating thirst, not to mention agonizing aches and pains. I reached for my canteen, feebly drinking the last of the fluid contained therein. The warm, fetid water was barely sufficient for ensuring my continual survival. I scanned the land, searching for an area that could be utilized as an ephemeral campsite. Dense scrub and infrequent copses of pine dotted the landscape visible to me. The azure sky had been replaced by a darkening purple, the sun slowly descending. The sky and land appeared to be bereft of all avian wildlife. Even the land was becoming more barren, the mountanious region familiar to me transitioning into an arid, desert-like environment which I've only read about in books. A hundred feet or so ahead of my position I espied a copse of firs clustered together tightly, providing at least a modicum of shade in which to conceal myself away from the yellow orb and its scorching heat. I doubled my pace, intent on reaching my new destination. Large mosquitos pricked at my body, lusting for my warm blood. I swatted them away, irritated by their arrival. My body ached and hurt all over. I finally reached the copse, sliding myself beneath their protective wings. Needles stuck at me somewhat painfully, but I reckoned it was preferable to staying in the sweltering heat. I knew that as soon as the sun dipped into the horizon it was going to be much chillier, so I collected some nearby twigs and bunched them up into a circular position just outside the spot I took. It took me a couple of attempts before I was able to fully ignite a proper fire. Already I felt the cool gusts of wind, ominously informing me of the inevitable cold arriving soon enough. Snuggling as close as I dared to the fire, I spread my hands to encompass the flames heat. My eyes soon began to droop with weariness.
A strange sound roused me from sleep the next morning. Grunting, I blinked feebly, still quite exhausted from yesterdays traveling. What I saw shocked and startled me thoroughly. I jumped up, my head encountering the sharp needles of the fir tree. A large, shaggy dog, sitting and staring intently at me, unmoving. I realized that the sound that had awoken me was a bark emitted by this mysterious canine. I stared back at him, trying to display a nonthreatening posture. It just stared at me. The most piercing feature of the dog was the color of its matted fur. The dirty white coat it sported stood in stark contrast to our current background. Muscles bulged from this fine specimen of a dog. Intimidating but majestic despite its unclean condition. It was a magnanimous creature, ardent and noble. As I gazed at its magnificence, he tilted his head to the side. The coy gesture brought the first sincere smile to my lips in nearly three years. He barked playfully in response. My eyes widened as I recognized the animals intelligence in his dark brown eyes. Never had I read of any event in which a dog was able to correctly interpret a simple facial expression exhibited by a human. Granted, this was the first dog I had ever seen and heard, I knew somehow that this one was unique amongst its species. Instictively and without warning I reached to pet the dog on its head, forgetting my actions at the moment. He leaned forward and allowed me to pet him. His long tongue drooped from the side of his jaws and his tail wagged wildly. Chuckling, I nuzzled his ears affectionately. My disposition had improved significantly. I was completely relaxed and somewhat happy.
Two days crawled by at a slow and tedious pace. The wolf, which I had earlier mistook for some obscure variety of canine breed, I began to call by the nickname Dogmeat. Two reasons are available for this odd name. One, I had mistaken him for a dog. Two, he seemed to have a peculiar knack for locating small mammals which I would cook and he would then proceed to devour the meat voraciously. Dogmeat followed me thereafter, never once straying from my side and acting as my sole companion and friend when I was journeying. On that second day, during what I presumed was early afternoon, I rested once again. With no brush or kindling for a fire, I settled down next to Dogmeat, rubbing his ears affectionately while I gazed out to the horizon. I observed the the brilliant ball of flames and watched it sink behind the mountains near the home I had left. What I didn't comprehend was that this was an abstract symbolic moment. A cycle. It signalled two things. The end of my life and the renewing of another. This day marked a period in which I would be forever altered into a vastly different person than I knew myself to be. Amber rays shone their last breath upon my familiar face and the arrival and presence of night would herald the reformed me.
