11th August 1976
I walked up the street sidewalk towards the front gate of my home, crunch?crunch?crunch? followed my every footstep as I treaded heartily up through the lightly covering snow which glistened in the streetlights. The strong winter breeze chilled my body to the bone as I followed up the path towards the gate to my seasonally whitened fence.
Opening the gateway and walking the brown cobblestone to my home I noticed Christmas lights strung over the two full Pine trees just inside my snow dusted lawn. The bulbs twinkled with the energy comparable to a million micro-suns, lighting up the other decorations surrounding my two bedroom ranch.
I opened the door to my cozy home and called out for my wife, ?Hunny, I?m home.? Without any reply I repeated myself again, but still answer. I continued into the neatly dressed living room, above the fireplace two stocking were hung with great care. While looking around I noticed many cheerful holiday cards were hanging from the overhead column separating the living room from the bar.
Making my way to the kitchen I stepped on foot in and saw her backside, it looked as if she was slaving away at making supper, chopping carrots and other vegetables with a long sleek knife. I wondered why she wasn?t talking to me, is she angry with me?
?Hun, I?m home from work? why aren?t you talking to me?? I asked her as I moved to put my arm around her.
She faded from sight like a phantom as she went to hug me.
I woke up in a pool of sweat, looking from my soggy couch for any signs that I hadn?t been dreaming. My spirits faded once my head came back to me, knowing that it wasn?t possible she was still alive after the torture she experienced from a pack of sadist creepers.
The creepers who took her from me were long dead; it?s been a lonely six months since then. I can?t help but stare at the picture of her I keep in my wallet and think of how I failed her.
Scenes of her being ravished flooded through my head, she was screaming out for someone to help her while trying to fight off the armed bandits. Finding my self overwhelmed with guilt I turned the cold uncaring barrel of the Colt .45 towards myself, hoping that we will be reunited.
Tears fell from my eyes as I broke down, pulling the pistol away and throwing it to the floor. At that very moment I realized I had one more purpose left on this earth.
I reached out for the half empty bottle of Dan Jackals on the end table, and with self pity slowly drank away at my sorrow. The next morning I will set out for Yavapia, New Mexico??Creeper County.
Ghost stories and a new Purpose......Circa 1976
Moderator: Redline Fox
Ghost stories and a new Purpose......Circa 1976
Last edited by Nighthawk on Tue Jun 13, 2006 5:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Hmmm
Im currently working on a followup to this viginette, wondering if there is any interest in maybe a 'chronicle(s)' so to speak
nighthawk
nighthawk
Re-hmmm
or should I stick to viginettes?
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- Crazy Vulpine
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Do you mean like, a journal style or do you mean seperate short blips that are not really connected?
Either way, please use the same thread for posting. As several threads for just a few paragraphs worth of material would clutter things up to much.
Whatever you want to write though is fine, just make sure you organize it as such.
There seems to be some potential here as you can provide a good visual of what is going on. Just make sure you keep the flow of the story moving before using to much prose and metaphor, elsewise the story itself can get a bit lost. If simple language serves the purpose, no need to fancy it up is one thing to consider. But good visual writing is what I aim for myself. You can PM me if you'd like elobration, elsewise what you have so far looks good.
Either way, please use the same thread for posting. As several threads for just a few paragraphs worth of material would clutter things up to much.
Whatever you want to write though is fine, just make sure you organize it as such.
There seems to be some potential here as you can provide a good visual of what is going on. Just make sure you keep the flow of the story moving before using to much prose and metaphor, elsewise the story itself can get a bit lost. If simple language serves the purpose, no need to fancy it up is one thing to consider. But good visual writing is what I aim for myself. You can PM me if you'd like elobration, elsewise what you have so far looks good.
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- Not "The WingNut"
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- Angle Grinder Man
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I woke up in a pool of sweat, looking from my soggy couch for any signs that I hadn?t been dreaming. My spirits faded once my head came back to me, knowing that it wasn?t possible she was still alive after the torture she experienced from a pack of sadist creepers.
I don't like this bit. I would end the sentence after "alive" as the situation is clarified in the next paragraph. It just reads kind of flat, abrupt, too simple a statement.
Alternatively, I might consider changing "a pack" to "the pack" or "that pack", something to show how personal it was.
All this being said, it's your story so write it how you like not every criticism is correct.
A few typos in there though, if you want to clean it up some time.
I don't like this bit. I would end the sentence after "alive" as the situation is clarified in the next paragraph. It just reads kind of flat, abrupt, too simple a statement.
Alternatively, I might consider changing "a pack" to "the pack" or "that pack", something to show how personal it was.
All this being said, it's your story so write it how you like not every criticism is correct.
A few typos in there though, if you want to clean it up some time.
typo
thanks bud, I'll get on it, damned word processor