I write pulp for fun. No high art here, just action and daring thrills in worlds filled with interesting characters. Enjoy
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Very very rough novel slice
So part of why I haven't been posting here is laziness, part is being unsure of what to write, but the biggest chunk was NaNoWriMo. I won't bore you with explanations of what it is but here is a chunk of the novel I wrote. Enjoy.
I could only see a few things on the shelf at a time in the small pool of light cast by my zippo. There didn't seem to be any organization to the weapons covering the shelves. Smaller things, all the way down to pocket knives, were shoved next to six foot spears. The shelves were completely packed as well, with every scrap of spare space filled in with a tool of destruction of some sort. The only thing was, I didn't see any gun, or bows or anything like that. All hand to hand weapons. Still I was sure something in this giant mix would help me out. I was right, but not in the way I thought. Without warning the lights flared to life, turning on one after another from the far end of the room to the door. In a fit of paranoia I put my back to the wall and scanned the floor. It looked like most of it was just worn old concrete. Lines were painted onto it but they looked like they had been applied several times as the building was re-purposed again and again. Some of them were just lane markings, others squared of chunks of the floor the size of a small room. The far wall looked about the same as the one I was against, slightly curve to the roof with shelves in easy reach. I couldn't make out many individual weapons but I was sure they were just as littered with them.
At first I couldn't see anyone else in the room, it just looked like the bastard child of an ancient armory and an airplane hanger from the second world war or something. I kept walking along the length of the building. I didn't see any doors or windows other than the small slits near the top. As I approached the far side I could see that it was a large door that could be wheeled open. Looking back the way I had come in had been the same. Both sides had smaller human sized doors inset in them. Without preamble the door started to wheel open. A large guy walked in. I was still a distance from him but he was huge. I couldn't believe my eyes. He was at least ten feet tall and half that wide, walking with slow ponderous steps. He was a bit odd looking though. Lumpy really and while he looked more than big enough to crush me the proportions were all off, with huge long arms that nearly hit the ground. Still there wasn't time to puzzle it over, as soon as he spotted me he broke into a run, arms reaching forward. He was silent though, no screech, no yelling, no
I hesitated for a second, frozen with indecision before sprinting straight towards him. The door behind him was still open. I didn't fancy my chances taking this freak on so I was going to try to leave. I should have been scared, and on some level I was, but that was mostly being overruled by how insanely unfair this all was. I was annoyed, pissed off, angry and on some level I just wanted to get back at whoever had done this. I mean really. I had been kidnapped, knocked out, nearly stabbed and beaten, clubbed and cut in two different fights, transported to God alone knows where, shoved in an overheated dark room, accidentally cut by a sword and now I had some mute roid raging freak chasing me down. And I hadn't done anything, or even had breakfast that day.
Running towards each other we closed the gap quickly, and I tried something insane to get to the back of the thug. I slid under him, hitting one hip painfully on the floor and shooting between his legs. It worked, I was shocked. I hadn't even thought to do that, I was just going to try to dash around him. How had I? Then I realized the coin was back in my fist again. Something was definitely strange here, but it still barely registered in the mix of anger at the situation and joy that I might make it out. To late I noticed the door was closing again. I put a bit of extra speed into my step but it was no use, I hit the wall door with a thud just after it closed.
I stopped. It was useless I was trapped in a room with hundred, maybe thousands, of weapons that I had no idea how to use while a very large man was turning around to crush me. I was hot, I was tired, and I was ANGRY! I was stuck in the middle of the room now so I sprinted to the left so I could be nearer to a few weapons. The bruiser adjusted his course to meet me and as such I had only about a second to grab something before he could reach me. I stuck an arm out wildly and grabbed the first thing I found. My fingers curled into a fist around something that wasn't quite a handle, something that had finger holes. I pulled my arm back to find I was now holding a surprisingly comfortable set of brass knuckles. They were skinny, but surprisingly heavy with small discreet spikes swooping up out of the metal between the fingers. Perfect, I thought. No reach or finesse but at least I know how to throw a punch.
The brute reached for me and I fell back, tumbling into the shelves. His punch missed my as I fell and now I was inside his reach. My left hand was on the lowest shelf so I pulled myself and rocketed forward, landing a hit against the freaks impossibly huge chest. He fell back but didn't give any sign of feeling pain. Then the world changed rather suddenly. Everything slowed down. Colours became brighter, I could feel my clothes against my skin, I heard the shuffle of my opponents feet, and I could smell metal, concrete and... clay oddly enough. My left hand closed and I found another set of knuckles was now on my good hand. These ones were wider, heavier and smooth, bone crushers I realized. I smiled grimly and widened my stance, waiting for the attack to come, arms cocked back and ready.
He did rush again, still silent, still large and fast and deadly, but I was done running now. He tried to straight up crush me, both hands coming down towards my head in a death blow. I didn't let it happen, just smashing straight upward. His hands broke, crumbling around me. With a surge I learned that this was a golem in attack mode. He wasn't human, he wasn't even alive. I had no idea how I knew this but resolved to deal with it later. My last vestiges of remorse for what I was doing gone widened my smile and launched forward into the clay monster in front of me. Digging gouges out of its flesh with each hit I let out my frustration, my confusion, my rage, my anger and so much more into it's unnatural flesh. Soon enough it was reduced to power. The small door opened behind me and I tightened my grip, ready for another fight. Oddly it felt like the coin that had somehow wound up in my palm so many times was missing, but in a flash I knew it was somehow in the knuckles now. When I wondered how all this was happening I realized I was learning a lot very quickly and, perhaps strangest of all, the coin itself was telling me.