Merquer
Saturday, May 26, 2007, 04:09 PM
I'm writing this because i'm in between exams and cannot sleep... excuse the delirious tendencies... i have no plan or anything
Chapter 1
The wind whistled through the empty streets of London. here and there, a broken window would break the subtle harmony of the windy simphony. Here and there, an overturned dumpster had spilled out its innards, revealing an odd assortment of empty bottles and derelict junk... then the wind stopped, and the streets were quiet, for a moment... then a humming sound started to insinuate itself into the silence, and all the broken windows came alive...
...
inside the armored transport, there was silence, only the engine could be heard purring away through the thick armor encasing it. the men were silent, as if they were dying bit by bit, and they'd started by killing their words. there was a stink of death in that oddly shaped coffin and a grain of deadly silence in the soul of each of its occupants...they needed someone to say something, to know they're not dead yet, but the wall of silence around them had grown too thick and tall for that...
"not much longer now..., you best be ready" the words had started as a whisper, shyly, then grew to a normal volume, as the silence shattered, like dense fog dispersing suddenly, the men were surprised, as if they'd never realised there was anyone else in the transport... they came out of their shells, slowly, checking their gear, and keeping a low murmur going, like a low burning fire, fed little by little, so as not to be snuffed out... there wasn't much to check, really, as the Underground Engineers had already double-checked and triple checked the armors, as well as the power cells and weapons. there was soon nothing to do to bide the time.. eternity was bottlenecked... "we're like that last drop of sand in the hourglass, clinging to the sides, lingering as if it will not fall, only to tumble down, defeated" thought John Doe, the patrol commander, while he looked around at his men and himself... they'd been a good lot, they'd been good men... no, they'd been men... alive, living-breathing-loving-talking-lying-crying people... and now, they were about to die. He was about to die. He knew it was right, he knew it wasn't just a pointless sacrifice, and yet he couldn't bring himself to accept the fact that, in half an hour, he'd be dead. He tried to imagine how he'd otherwise spend half an hour of his time, laughing it away, throwing it away, but iot didn't work. he was still there, in the armoreds metal coffin, with the other fifteen would-be corpses... He just hoped it'd work... he hoped their death would give the other convoy the time it needed to leave. Wiping his thoughts away with a flick of the wrist, he got up... "Get ready, it's almost time!"
Chapter 1
The wind whistled through the empty streets of London. here and there, a broken window would break the subtle harmony of the windy simphony. Here and there, an overturned dumpster had spilled out its innards, revealing an odd assortment of empty bottles and derelict junk... then the wind stopped, and the streets were quiet, for a moment... then a humming sound started to insinuate itself into the silence, and all the broken windows came alive...
...
inside the armored transport, there was silence, only the engine could be heard purring away through the thick armor encasing it. the men were silent, as if they were dying bit by bit, and they'd started by killing their words. there was a stink of death in that oddly shaped coffin and a grain of deadly silence in the soul of each of its occupants...they needed someone to say something, to know they're not dead yet, but the wall of silence around them had grown too thick and tall for that...
"not much longer now..., you best be ready" the words had started as a whisper, shyly, then grew to a normal volume, as the silence shattered, like dense fog dispersing suddenly, the men were surprised, as if they'd never realised there was anyone else in the transport... they came out of their shells, slowly, checking their gear, and keeping a low murmur going, like a low burning fire, fed little by little, so as not to be snuffed out... there wasn't much to check, really, as the Underground Engineers had already double-checked and triple checked the armors, as well as the power cells and weapons. there was soon nothing to do to bide the time.. eternity was bottlenecked... "we're like that last drop of sand in the hourglass, clinging to the sides, lingering as if it will not fall, only to tumble down, defeated" thought John Doe, the patrol commander, while he looked around at his men and himself... they'd been a good lot, they'd been good men... no, they'd been men... alive, living-breathing-loving-talking-lying-crying people... and now, they were about to die. He was about to die. He knew it was right, he knew it wasn't just a pointless sacrifice, and yet he couldn't bring himself to accept the fact that, in half an hour, he'd be dead. He tried to imagine how he'd otherwise spend half an hour of his time, laughing it away, throwing it away, but iot didn't work. he was still there, in the armoreds metal coffin, with the other fifteen would-be corpses... He just hoped it'd work... he hoped their death would give the other convoy the time it needed to leave. Wiping his thoughts away with a flick of the wrist, he got up... "Get ready, it's almost time!"