Thread: A few short stories

Here are a few stories I've written lately mates, hope you enjoy them!


This is an excerpt from the book I'm writing.



Draven stood in disbelief at the images his eyes were sending to his brain. The broken tables, the dead guards, and at the top of the stairs, his brother, still clutching his blood-stained sword. In the middle of the room seven dead corpses piled together. They had been huddling together, protecting the weak just before the end. A mother was still clutching her child. Her muscles still locked around her offspring in a desperate attempt to keep her child from harm. All in vain, for the entire group, two men; one mother; one young boy; and three small children no older than four. It was like a bad dream, and at any moment Draven would come to conciousness and dismiss the entire situation. But no, it wasn't a dream, this was no fantasy, and worst of all Draven wasn't going to wake up anytime soon. Slowly, one step at a time, Draven made his way to his enemy, his opponent, his brother. . . .
"So your the one who has turned against us?" Draven asked, his voice barely audible.
"Indeed I am brother, but you need not worry, for I am through with my treachery. Today I leave for Trevon, and neither you nor any other soul from Capest will ever see or hear from me again." Responded Fulcan.
Draven's eyes narrowed. "You betrayed our brotherhood. You've murdered these people in cold blood. You do not deserve anything but the same fate they have suffered." His voice growing in intensity with each syllable.
"Ha! And you think that you can deal the justice which you so righteously speak of? You would not strike down your own flesh and blood." And with that, Fulcan sheathed his bloody sword, and squared his shoulders to Draven's.
Draven was visibly trembling. The injustice that was just commited was burning inside him. They deserved revenge. He was also under orders to terminate the traitor. The tension was building in every last muscle in his body. Fulcan could see every sign of stress that Draven was showing.
"I knew you couldn't. You never could, and now the lives of seven people will pass away without revenge because of one man's weakness." Fulcan said. With that he turned to leave. At that precise moment something in Draven snapped. In one fluid motion he lunged at Fulcan and drew his sword. It's razor sharp edge was aimed directly at Fulcan's heart. But Draven halted his attack at the last moment.
Fulcan whirred to face his younger brother once again, shook his head, and whispered, "I knew you wouldn't murder your only living family."
"There are three things I learned from you Fulcan: One, never trust anybody; Two, never assume anything; and three, never stab someone in the back!" As he said the last words the blade he was holding became a metallic blur and pierced the torso of his own brother.
Fulcan had not had time to react to the attack from his brother. He slowly sank to knees. The twin hollow thwaps of his knees impacting on the floor were the only audible sounds. And the last words that escaped from Fulcans lips, were "It seems as if I was wrong about you little brother. Although," He winced in pain, "Hear me Draven! All your life you have defeated your enemies and crushed all those that have stood in your way. Your path is marked by the corpses of your enemies. The path you walk on has no end. You do not fear death, but you would welcome it. If you learn nothing else from my life or from my death learn this, You cannot live a life by the sword and be anything but a killer. There are no heroes, there are no winners. Because in the end, we all meet the same fate. . .Death. Never forget that we are all mortal, and in that mortality amidst all the killing we've dealt, and endured. You must live!" Fulcan's eyes began to unfocus, "Never forget brother. . .Live." And with that, Fulcan drew his last breath.
Draven tended to the bodies of those slain, and stood in the empty room. In his mind, he knew that he should be feeling guilt, or regret, or pain, or sadness, but he felt nothing. Only the same shadow that he had felt since he could remember. And so Draven walked out into the snow, his boots leaving their tell-tale path behind him. He made his way to the cliffs he and his brother used to play on as children.
Draven withdrew Fulcan's necklace that he had retrieved from him. "Although all is not known yet, there is a purpose to all of this Fulcan. I looked up to you all my life, and when the time came. . .I surpassed you. Rest in peace brother. Your free from this prison of sin and suffering. Rest in peace. . ." Draven then dropped the necklace over the cliff, turned, and began his long walk to Imperial City to catch the reprocussions of his actions. Without so much as a glance over his shoulder, he set off.



And here is a short story I've written, the main character is someone I write about quite often.



Fidel slowly climbed onto the bus, something unerved him about it, not knowing what to do, he slowly made his way through the aisles and found his seat... Number 13... Not being superstitious Fidel thought nothing of it. However the nagging in the pit of his stomach wouldn't go away. To ease his own mind, Fidel buckled the rarely-used seatbelt and fastened it tightly around his waist. And then he closed his eyes to go to a world where anything was possible, a world of dreams.
A violent lurch in the bus shook Fidel awake. Something had thrown it off course, things were speeding past the windows. It all happened in less than a few seconds. The bus colliding with the freeway divider, the sickening feeling of being weightless as the bus launched its rear-end up and over itself, the violent thud followed by an ear-piercing screech of the bus impacting the concrete and skidding across the pavement. It only took Fidel a few seconds to regain his conciousness. He was suspended to the roof of the bus . . . No, he was still strapped into his seat, and the bus was upside down. Fidel carefully unbuckled himself, and dropped to the ceiling below. Broken glass lay shattered everywhere. People lying unconcious and dead. Blood spattered the plexi-glass window. Fidel heard a desperate sobbing. He turned on his heels and he saw a young girl on lying next to her mother, who was clearly not breathing, trying to wake her.
"Wake up Mommy, please! I just want to go home Mommy! Please wake up!" The little child pleaded. Fidel surpressed a sob and ran up to her.
"What's your name?" He said in a comforting tone. Trying to calm the girl, already he had been digesting the fact that the bus was becoming more and more dangerous as the seconds ticked by. The girl didn't respond but kept shaking her mother, trying to wake her from her eternal slumber. "Let me take you and your Mommy to a safer place ok?" Fidel said, trying not to sound worried or rushed.
The young girl finally looked up at Fidel. "You promise it will be safe?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die." replied Fidel. He then hoisted the limp form of the girl's mother in his arms and beckoned to the young girl to follow him. He led her through one of the shattered windows, and took them about a hundred feet away from the bus. "Now I am going to go back into the bus and look for other people. You stay here ok? Promise me." The small girl nodded and traced an X across her heart. Fidel sprinted back to the bus to find any more survivors. But to his great discouragement, there were none. He decided to return to the young girl. Who was panicking out near the spot where he left her. "What's wrong?" asked Fidel as he jogged up to her. Although as he asked the question he couldn't help thinking how much this day would effect the young girl.
"Nick is in the bus! I left him there! He's my dog! You HAVE to go back for Nick!!!" She said in the same pleading tone that she had used when she was trying to wake her mother. Fidel knew it wasn't safe to return to the bus, but this child had already lost so much, it was worth the risk to return her pet to her. Although he didn't remember seeing a dog, he started back toward the bus anyways. A small fire had begun to burn on the upturned undercarriage of the bus. Time was low, and Fidel knew it.
Fidel rushed to the spot where he had found the young girl the first time and began quickly searching for Nick. A pink plastic backpack a few feet away caught his eye. Fidel ran to it, and opened it up out fell a scruffy stuffed dog. Fidel picked it up and look at the collar, it had NICK inscribed in capital letters. Fidel smiled as he began to walk toward the broken window to return the small stuffed animel to his loving master, the young girl. When the bus exploded into blazing fireball.

there ya go! I have another much longer story about Fidel, but it's on my lappy, which is currently offline, I will post it when I can.

Cheers mates!