Arsis_von_Neaera
THIS. IS. SPAR -shot- ... *gurgle*
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#37
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Short Story
And I Dropped
And I dropped. I could hear the silent squeal of adrenaline coursing through me; the blood was pumping so hard I could feel the pulse of my heart in my eyes. All senses became mud. The only things I could detect were bodies.
There were three in the room with me. I could tell that two were looking at me.
The pit in my stomach lurched forward before I did, but I quickly followed.
I felt the trembling vibrations of four gun shot’s go off, two from each of the two men looking at me. I moved faster than their fingers to the trigger and their arms to the ready. All the bullets missed. On my way to the first target, the man on the far right, I kicked a small rock forward with me. My right hand made contact with my targets diaphragm, the force of which pierced his rib cage like a knife to wood. My left hand traveled quickly to meet my targets kidney, meanwhile four gunshots breezed past the left of my face from my targets gun, and two more were strayed behind me as the man to the far left tried to catch up with my movements.
He failed by several feet.
My right hand, retracted, struck forward and my palm made full contact with my targets nose and mouth, shattering his nose, forcing the bone behind the cartilage to shatter and project into the back of his head, and also breaking both of his upper front teeth loose, causing them to shoot to the back of his throat. The force split his upper jaw.
I swiftly jabbed his throat with my left hand while spinning and shifting my targets body, with my right hand, into place to take the bullets coming from the man on the far left.
Three more rounds entered my targets body; one pierced through and grazed my right shoulder, passing over top my collarbone. I fell to my right knee, letting my first targets body rest on my shoulder and picked up the rock I had originally kicked, and flung it at my opponents hand. The force of the stone threw his trajectory off as three more rounds we’re fired into the body on my shoulder, which I flung into my opponent as he fired his final round, the bullet piercing the body and straying into my gut as I leaped into it to counter the force and keep myself on my feet.
I continued my leap into my opponent, the body slamming against him and falling to the floor, but him still standing, and my leap meeting his standing, my hands quickly wrung around his neck. He struggled and punched at me with his right hand, I countered with my left, grabbing his arm and twisting it until it snapped out of place in his shoulder.
With the limp arm in my left hand, his throat in my right, his left arm grabbing at me in either pain or in futile resilience, I was unsure which, I placed my right leg behind his left, pulled forward on his right arm, pushed forward against his throat, and kicked backwards with my right leg, bringing him to the ground.
He grabbed at my throat with his free arm and I shoved his left arm into his own mouth, slipped a knife out from his vest and pinned his right arm to the ground. I grabbed his limp left arm, now shoved into his mouth, with both hands, and forced it as deep into his mouth and throat as my strength could muster. Then I returned to my mind.
I didn’t understand what was going on, but I had a .45 calibur slug in my stomach, a dead man laying to the left of me, a dying man choking on his own hand between my legs, and a whimpering individual in one corner of the room.
I stood for a moment, admiring what was around me. I checked the blood on my hands, not being able to decipher whose it was. I looked at the whimpering person in the corner and asked, “Did I do this?”
More whimpers.
I picked up the gun from my first victim, unbeknownst to me it was my victim at all, and shot the whimpering person in the head. It didn’t die. Its head slammed against the ground and it let out a loud cry, but it recoiled and continued whimpering.
I did not know how to react, so I fired again. Same occurrence. I dropped the gun and sat against the wall opposite the whimpering person. A radio from one of the enigmatic deaths was lying next to me. I picked it up and pushed the speak button, “I don’t know what just happened, or for that matter who I am or what’s going on, but I quit.”
I dropped the radio on the floor.
The whimpering one was looking at me. Terror…
Maybe it's a condition, ever think of that? No, no you didn't. You never thought, "oh maybe he's sensitive about his invisible eyes." Maybe it's a skin condition.
"Maybe she was born with it..."
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Posted 01-27-2012, 12:36 AM
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