Category: Writers Block
At first, he was only aware of darkness. He opened his eyes. Slowly, his senses returned to him.
He was alone in an empty room, in an empty building. Outside he could feel chaos, madness, all the bloodiest base instincts intensified a thousandfold. It pounded against his mind, but he remained a center of calm, deadly cold, his mind honed to a razor's sharpness.
He received his instructions, having to pick them out from the telepath's weak, jumbled thoughts. His response was sharp and cold: You are weak. Your thoughts are a barely intelligible jumble. Then: I hear. I obey.
He rose, dressed, and exited the room, moving stealthily. He was in an empty hospital. He came upon an undead girl, crawling on the floor. She recoiled, hissing in terror, reddened eyes rolling. He squeezed his hand in to a fist, at the same time squeezing a telekinetic vise. She crumpled, spit a wave of blood, her head crumpled, and she died.
He moved on.
He gathered his weapons from the hall where they lay and exited in to the blood-soaked streets of Rainbow Falls.
He was a walking, living killing machine, the strongest telepath in the Corporation's knowledge, a superhuman trained to kill, mind, body, and instincts honed to a razor's deadly, accurate sharpness, with all the terrifying grace of a deadly cat--and he was set loose on the survivors of Rainbow Falls.
He was Nightstalker.
Marie was running through the burning ruins of the city. She'd been here before--a week ago. It hadn't been this bad. It hadn't been this chaotic. It had been more controlled, except when the fires had started. For a while, there was success at beating them back. Now, along with the infection, some strange cold entity seemed to make them rage higher, glowing with a bloody red light intensified by the cold energy radiating from the icy knife-like mind, a furious storm only carefully contained, a mind that struck brave warriors dumb and senseless, a mind that, if fully unleashed, could rip the city apart. Then, she'd been with Alex, now she was alone.
She was searching for a little girl. Somehow, everything was centered on her and this little girl and a terrifying, cold entity whose name she couldn't remember. She felt the name was vitally important, or an aspect of the name, or a lost part of the name. It was a great invincible presence, stalking the streets with a cold, calm, tireless, terrifying intensity and incorruptible determination. She could feel it out there, and knew that it tracked her with all the silent stealth of an insubstantial shadow. Yet this presence was not insubstantial, though it was quite shadowy. It was a mind of cold steel. She could feel it, and within its warped, twisted body it was the only seed of calm in the dying city. But it was a terrifying calm, the calm of the restrained fury of fire and storms, the cold that strong men fall back, scrambling over each other, to get away from.
Marie was like that cold, yet there was no restrained raging storm that she held behind iron walls. Marie was the stillness, a lithe, swift shadow, flickering here and there, yet masked from the ordinary eye.
Yet to Nightstalker, she was a beacon of light--light that he was unnervingly drawn to.
And the little girl that she sought was the key--and their first trial.
I love it so far! Its awesome! I can't wait for more!
Descriptions of your character and setting might be helpful.
I agree with Rachel. But I love your writings, Iana, especially your usage of verbs. It's amazing, though your writing seems to be filled always with melancholy and dejection.
I really like it so far.
I actually don't know if I'm finishing this one.... I'll have to wait for it to come back.
I hope your able to! Its amazing!