Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1961294
Rated: E · Draft · Writing · #1961294
Just some ideas I wrote in the past and never followed up, do you think any are any good?
Story Ideas

The solider lay slumped, lifeless against the wood and mud wall. His green tunic stained with the crimson red of blood. A sword had been swung up across his stomach, spraying blood across the wall behind him, before smashing into his already mashed up armor. The broken shaft of an arrow was sunk deep into his thigh.

His arms lay limp at his sides. His left clutched a short spear, the top of had been hacked. His right arm was strapped to the large square shield he had fought with. Its pitted wooden surface scratched and dented from the many sword blows it had withstood. Several arrows protruded from its battered face.

The town he lay in was small, only twenty or so buildings. All of them the same design, wooden frames with bricks of mud and straw stuck in place with a thick paste.

It was a hot summer's day and the air was silent and heavy. Not even on a day like this had flies landed upon the dead for they knew what was at work necromancy.

"Acron gu helva kno razium, corbu sene logrk"

The sound echoed through the town, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Suddenly the solider stirred and then gasped.

Letovus gasped in the hot and stuffy air around him. He felt he had awoken from a series of bad dreams that he had no recollection of. He opened his eyes, slowly and cautiously. The small town center he lay in was lifeless, empty of anything expect the dead. He let his spear drop from his hand and pulled himself up against the wall. Looking down at his broken body he barely held back a cry of horror at the dried blood covering his stomach and the shattered arrow embedded in his leg. It took him several moments to realize he felt no pain, he felt nothing at all. He reached down towards the wound in his abdomen and ripped open his tunic. To his surprise it had stopped bleeding and had already sealed its self.   

12th May 2012.  Edited on: 3rd June 2012, 12th of January 2013

         The heat formed waves over the bonnet of the car. He watched them, bored but glad of the distraction. Sweat rolled down his temples as he leaned against the hot stone wall. He was in an idyllic location; a town in the south of Italy. Small, sunny, warm, - out of the way. He turned his head to look the street. It was deserted. He turned back towards the shop on the opposite side of the street. It was a tiny family run general store called Pepe's . Just as he was drifting off into thought the door rattled and a woman stepped out. She was tall with dark hair and soft blue eyes. His target.

18th September 2012.      Edited on: 20th September 2012


"You cats are all the same!"

"Well don't be like that, we just can't help it, people are very similar on a certain level," the purring drawl came from the cat lying across the seat of the car. A small silence followed, the cat assumed the conversation over and went back to cleaning his immaculate white and black cat. A scrawny teenage boy leant against the steering wheel. He jerked up and glared at the cat. The cat froze mid-lick, his tongue sticking out in a way only a cat could make look sophisticated.

"Be a good boy and switch the radio on,"

The glare from the boy's eyes intensified until the cat started to fill hot under his fur.

"Or I could shut up"

"Perfect, there must be someway of this island, maybe there are still boats to the mainland."

Looking up he surveyed the long dry road. It arched down from a long gorge through the mountain's and opened out into the vast groves of oranges the blue pick now rested in. Jake had thought it looked amazing but that was when he was coming here for a week with his parents not being stuck here for all eternity. It now only looked hot and deserted; he imagined tumbleweed rolling down the road.

I should say that Jake was the boy, the cat is me, and I have a rather more worthy name. Balthazar 'white paws' Iycre the third.

8th February 2013     

© Copyright 2013 Lonewolf (voojrgiu at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1961294