I have quite a few short stories that I've previously posted on this site, and on Deviant Art. I also have a Halo fanfic that I've written the first chapter of, but is currently on hiatus (however, thanks to one person showing faith in me and praising me as being better than the general crap people on Fanfiction.net, I am inspired to start writing it again soon when I get the free time to do so...). Anyway, here are the stories, in alphabetical order by title. As some were written later than others, I developed my writing style more, so some are better than others, though I hope that they're all pretty decent nevertheless... 
Oh, and don't be put off by some of the titles - they may sound 'Twilighty', but they're anything but. I actually write good stories, for example. And I avoid 'purple prose' too.
Blood Lust was originally meant to be part of a larger project, a couple of years ago, but I abandoned it after a short while. It's in two parts as it's a longer piece. I'm particularly proud of Protest and Psychedelic Nightmare, and I reckon they show off my style of writing quite well from the time I wrote them (sometime in late 2009). I've written all of these in the past three years, and kept them all on my laptop all this time, mainly because I could never bear to delete them, though I guess eventually time will claim them as it has done so many of my other projects in the past.
As always, constructive criticism is welcomed, as I'm always looking to improve (especially as I'm working on a game script and three short screenplays in the near future...).
Oh, and don't be put off by some of the titles - they may sound 'Twilighty', but they're anything but. I actually write good stories, for example. And I avoid 'purple prose' too.
She watched from a distance as he walked past. She?d noticed him every day for weeks, always walking on, never looking at her, never speaking. Never showing any sign that he cared. But she cared. She couldn?t understand why, but since the first moment she?d saw him she had felt a connection, something deep and mysterious that she would never be able to break. It was strange, yet somehow, satisfying. She waited, every day in vain, for him to say something, or do something, to show he noticed her too. But it never happened. She was alone.
He noticed in the corner of his eye. The strange girl with the gothic attire, staring at him, as she did every day. Since he?d first realised how she would always watch him as he passed he?d tried desperately to pluck up the courage to talk to her. But the words would never come. He resigned himself, every day, to walking on, hoping that she would call to him, hoping that she would make the first move. But she never did.
The best things in life come to those who wait. But sometimes, waiting isn?t enough. We need to take life and live each day as though it?s our last, as though we?ll never have these opportunities and hopes and dreams again.
All it took, was a kiss.
He stopped, and looked around. Their eyes met. As he lingered, she rose to meet him, walking slowly towards him. They smiled, briefly, and as she leaned forward he could smell the lavender perfume and feel her breath on his cheek. He leaned in, closer. Their lips brushed, and tingled, as he softly kissed her bottom lip. She smiled again, and let her lips touch his, taking his hands in hers, and kissing him fully and with such deep passion and love.
All love takes, is a kiss.
He noticed in the corner of his eye. The strange girl with the gothic attire, staring at him, as she did every day. Since he?d first realised how she would always watch him as he passed he?d tried desperately to pluck up the courage to talk to her. But the words would never come. He resigned himself, every day, to walking on, hoping that she would call to him, hoping that she would make the first move. But she never did.
The best things in life come to those who wait. But sometimes, waiting isn?t enough. We need to take life and live each day as though it?s our last, as though we?ll never have these opportunities and hopes and dreams again.
All it took, was a kiss.
He stopped, and looked around. Their eyes met. As he lingered, she rose to meet him, walking slowly towards him. They smiled, briefly, and as she leaned forward he could smell the lavender perfume and feel her breath on his cheek. He leaned in, closer. Their lips brushed, and tingled, as he softly kissed her bottom lip. She smiled again, and let her lips touch his, taking his hands in hers, and kissing him fully and with such deep passion and love.
All love takes, is a kiss.
He walked along the street. All was quiet. Cars coming both ways, people passing by, oblivious. She watched.
He took a step. Stopped. Looked around. Nothing. He walked on. Stepped into the road. That was when the car hit.
"What the bloody hell were you playing at?" The driver of the van was pretty angry. This was to be expected, of course. After all, some guy had just stepped out into the road, right into his path. It was a miracle that Rob hadn't been hurt. What was strange, though, was that a dent had suddenly appeared right in the middle of the van, as though it had hit something much harder than a random person. And that was even stranger, too. Rob had no marks, no bruises, no cuts, nothing. It was like the van hadn't touched him. But then, how would it have stopped like that? The driver sure as hell didn't put the brakes on, not that quickly. He was going at 40mph, after all. True, it was a 30mph zone, but white van men don't care about speed, after all. Rob thought back to that moment. He knew, but he wasn't going to tell. It was strange enough as it was, telling people would just make them think he was crazy. And he knew he wasn't crazy. Was he?
Emma ran. She didn't stop, but just kept on running. She shouldn't have been there, she shouldn't have interfered. But she had. Why? What had possessed her to do that? Was it him? She'd fought her feelings ever since she'd set eyes on him, but she couldn't escape the truth. She knew she had to, that she couldn't put him in that danger, but she couldn't fight any more. And it scared her. Even more than when she'd seen the van, she was scared to tell him. Scared to face the facts. How could she explain, after all? She'd stopped a speeding van and saved his life, and then vanished. She wasn't sure he recognised her. Who remembers people you see in passing anyway? But she remembered him. And she'd saved him. Surely that had to count for something.
It was on campus when he'd first seen her. Rob had been in the union, getting a quick lunch, when he noticed the girl with the red hair. He couldn't help but look at her beautiful face, the long fiery hair and the hazel eyes. She looked straight past him, and that was that. But it wasn't. Not for him. He'd tried to avoid her, but everywhere he went, she was there. Never looking at him, but always there. No matter where he went, she would always be near. He was drawn in, and he couldn't help it. It was like he was falling into a deep hole that he couldn't escape from, and it was terrifying. And yet, he didn't want it to stop. No matter what he did, he always wanted to see her. And then came the van. And somehow, miraculously, she was there. She'd put out a hand and stopped the van, and that was impossible, but it had happened. And then she was gone. Nothing but a quick smile, before she ran. Rob knew there was something mysterious about her, something abnormal. He never saw her speak to anyone, never saw her interact in any way with anybody else. Who was she?
Late. Rob had decided he officially hated his tutor. 5pm and he?d barely left university. Winter was closing in, the nights were getting longer, and he still had a long walk to go before home. He was still shaken from the day's events. Nearly getting killed does that to a person, true, but that wasn't why he was shaken. It was her. He hadn't seen her anywhere after the crash, and she'd been on his mind all day. It troubled him. He didn't even know her name and she'd saved his life, and then fled without even giving him a chance to say thanks. He wondered about this as he walked down the poorly lit street to his home... That was when the two men following him decided to strike.
She saw. Emma had decided after the crash to follow Rob, without his knowledge. She couldn't have said why, save for an uneasy feeling that something else would happen to him. And now it seemed she was to be proven right. She watched as the two men followed Rob down the street, keeping their distance in case he turned. She saw the knives they carried, one each, as they held them behind their backs, ready to strike. She saw when they grabbed him and pushed him into the alley. She followed.
"Give us your stuff, now!" Clichéd words, but true nonetheless. The two men who had followed Rob all the way from campus weren't exactly renowned among their friends for their use of witty and smart language. Then again, they weren't the sort to hang around with that kind of person. They held out the knives and pushed Rob to the ground. That was the kind of person they were. As he shouted for help, they grabbed his bag and coat and started rifling through for valuables. Exactly what valuables they hoped to find in a bag full of coursework was unclear, but it was no pressing concern, unlike the wallet hidden in an inner coat pocket. Nobody noticed a red haired girl creep silently toward them.
Emma knew that Rob was in danger. She had to act fast. Not the most difficult opponents to face, but still, they were tough. Two thugs living on the mean streets of inner-city Leeds aren't exactly easy to beat, but then again, she wasn't like most girls. She analysed the situation. A dark haired young man lay on the floor in front of two big men with knives. Rob and his attackers, of course. He called out for help, as they searched his bag. Coursework, and nothing more. As one of the two men searched through Rob's coat pockets, she struck. Coming up from behind she grabbed the head of the nearest assailant, and with a sickening crack she twisted it to the side. He fell to the ground, and didn't get up again. The second wasn't so easy. As she went towards him he dodged and grabbed her in an arm lock. Bringing his knife to her throat, she was helpless.
Rob saw his first attacker fall in front of him, and looked up to see the girl who'd saved him earlier in an arm lock with the other thug preparing to slit her throat. Thinking fast, Rob grabbed his fallen enemy's weapon and lunged towards the other. There was a sound like cutting into a piece of meat, then he noticed the blood dripping from where he'd stabbed the man. It was then that the grip on the girl loosened and her attacker fell to the floor, without a whisper of a noise. He'd saved her life. Looked like he'd returned the favour after all.
Emma felt a huge sense of relief as the man who would have killed her fell dead to the ground. It was only then she realised she shouldn't have interfered again. What was it about this guy? Every time she was near him, her emotions were a riot and she couldn't focus. There was no way she could have left him to his fate. And now he'd saved her own life. It seemed he'd repaid the debt from earlier, but she was in too deep now. There was nothing for it. She had to run again, and this time she couldn't come back. Emotions had nothing to do with it. She wasn't safe, it wasn't safe for him to be associated with her. She'd only hurt him. Coming to university was an attempt to fit in, to be normal. Now she saw it had worked too well. She'd found Rob, and then it had all gone wrong. And that wasn't all. The smell. She had to leave now, the smell was too much. She had to go before she lost control.
Rob called after her as she ran. "Wait! Where are you going?" She ignored him. He ran after her, but she'd gone further through the alleys, leading further into the maze. It was a residential area, near campus, but like so many old houses there were back alleys, tunnels and all sorts that formed a maze a world away from the nearby streets the students of Leeds lived in. He followed as much as he could, but she was fast. Much too fast. It wasn't long before he lost her. And in turn, he realised he was lost himself. Looking around, he saw an open doorway, with a light on. It couldn't be that easy, surely? Looking inside, he saw an empty room, walls completely bare, part of an old house that had long been abandoned even by squatters. The girl who had saved him, the mysterious red haired wonder, was standing in the centre of the room. He walked in.
"Who are you?" Rob had wondered what he would say to her for a long time, but never dreamed of such astonishing circumstances. He knew his words sounded cliché and silly, but at this point he didn't care.
"You followed me." It wasn't a question. "I didn't think you'd manage it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I knew you were special, but to have followed me here? Either you're much more than I thought, or you're very, very, lucky."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Smart too. You're right, of course. I didn't. My name's Emma. And you're Robert."
"Just Rob. How did you know that? We've never spoken."
Emma looked amused, but inside she was burning. She didn't want this conversation, and yet there was no way out. Maybe it would make things easier in the long run if she faced it now.
"I know we've not spoken. But I noticed you before. I followed you."
Now it was Rob's turn to be amused. "I know you were following me. I kept seeing you everywhere I went. Sorry if this sounds rude, but I guess it was pretty stalker-ish of you."
"I'm sorry, I just wanted to know more about you. It's best if I just explain. I saw you on campus once, and there was something about you that drew me in. I don't know what, I don't understand myself, but it was there and I can't stay away. And yes, I know that sounds stalker-ish and I'm sorry. But that's the truth, plain and simple."
Rob was puzzled now. And yet, there was something about her that drew him in too. He wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed she felt the same. "So, what, this is all because you feel something about me? That doesn't even make sense."
"Look, I'm sorry, I know it doesn't make sense, but that's just how it is. Things don't make sense for me, they never have. Alright?"
"Fine. I accept what you're saying, and I can see where you're coming from with this. While we're being honest, when I first saw you I felt exactly the same. And I sure as hell don't understand either. And now this is getting pretty confusing, so how about we sort things out now, eh?"
Emma couldn't explain any of it to herself. The speech coming from her lips was out of synch with her brain, and it seemed Rob felt the same way. Their conversation didn't make sense. Nothing else did either, come to think of it. She had ideas, sure, but none of them seemed to match what she was feeling. And it scared her.
"Fine, then let?s pretend this isn?t happening."
"Sure. And no, because it is happening. Whatever ?it? is. I just want some answers." Rob sounded defiant. "We'll start with what happened this morning. Let's assume for a minute that we are both now having rational thoughts, that this isn't a totally surreal experience and that we are having a normal conversation like old friends in a normal setting. That still doesn't explain what happened this morning."
"What are you talking about?" Rob realised Emma was being defensive. That was interesting.
"You stopped a van going at 40mph, give or take, with a single hand. You ran away like you were never there, and now you're being so evasive. I mean, you ran so fast, I've never seen anyone move like that."
"I am not being evasive..."
"Yes, you are. Who are you, Emma? Really?"
"I'm no-one..."
"You are someone. Please, tell me."
She paused. Should she tell him? Maybe. But then again, would it benefit him to know? And the smell. It had reached her even here. How could it have travelled so far, so quickly? She had to go now.
"Alright. I'll tell you. But not here." Emma knew she wouldn't be able to fob him off any more. She had to tell him, but this wasn't the time.
"Where then? And when?"
"Tomorrow. There's a place in Millennium Square. Meet me there tomorrow for lunch, at midday, and I promise I'll tell you what you want to know.
"So what? This is going to be like a date or something? And then you'll tell me what I want to know?"
"If you like."
"How will I know where to go? It's not as if there?s only one cafe in the square..."
"You'll see me. I'll be waiting."
And with that, she left him to his thoughts. At least she ran at a normal speed this time, he supposed.
He took a step. Stopped. Looked around. Nothing. He walked on. Stepped into the road. That was when the car hit.
"What the bloody hell were you playing at?" The driver of the van was pretty angry. This was to be expected, of course. After all, some guy had just stepped out into the road, right into his path. It was a miracle that Rob hadn't been hurt. What was strange, though, was that a dent had suddenly appeared right in the middle of the van, as though it had hit something much harder than a random person. And that was even stranger, too. Rob had no marks, no bruises, no cuts, nothing. It was like the van hadn't touched him. But then, how would it have stopped like that? The driver sure as hell didn't put the brakes on, not that quickly. He was going at 40mph, after all. True, it was a 30mph zone, but white van men don't care about speed, after all. Rob thought back to that moment. He knew, but he wasn't going to tell. It was strange enough as it was, telling people would just make them think he was crazy. And he knew he wasn't crazy. Was he?
Emma ran. She didn't stop, but just kept on running. She shouldn't have been there, she shouldn't have interfered. But she had. Why? What had possessed her to do that? Was it him? She'd fought her feelings ever since she'd set eyes on him, but she couldn't escape the truth. She knew she had to, that she couldn't put him in that danger, but she couldn't fight any more. And it scared her. Even more than when she'd seen the van, she was scared to tell him. Scared to face the facts. How could she explain, after all? She'd stopped a speeding van and saved his life, and then vanished. She wasn't sure he recognised her. Who remembers people you see in passing anyway? But she remembered him. And she'd saved him. Surely that had to count for something.
It was on campus when he'd first seen her. Rob had been in the union, getting a quick lunch, when he noticed the girl with the red hair. He couldn't help but look at her beautiful face, the long fiery hair and the hazel eyes. She looked straight past him, and that was that. But it wasn't. Not for him. He'd tried to avoid her, but everywhere he went, she was there. Never looking at him, but always there. No matter where he went, she would always be near. He was drawn in, and he couldn't help it. It was like he was falling into a deep hole that he couldn't escape from, and it was terrifying. And yet, he didn't want it to stop. No matter what he did, he always wanted to see her. And then came the van. And somehow, miraculously, she was there. She'd put out a hand and stopped the van, and that was impossible, but it had happened. And then she was gone. Nothing but a quick smile, before she ran. Rob knew there was something mysterious about her, something abnormal. He never saw her speak to anyone, never saw her interact in any way with anybody else. Who was she?
Late. Rob had decided he officially hated his tutor. 5pm and he?d barely left university. Winter was closing in, the nights were getting longer, and he still had a long walk to go before home. He was still shaken from the day's events. Nearly getting killed does that to a person, true, but that wasn't why he was shaken. It was her. He hadn't seen her anywhere after the crash, and she'd been on his mind all day. It troubled him. He didn't even know her name and she'd saved his life, and then fled without even giving him a chance to say thanks. He wondered about this as he walked down the poorly lit street to his home... That was when the two men following him decided to strike.
She saw. Emma had decided after the crash to follow Rob, without his knowledge. She couldn't have said why, save for an uneasy feeling that something else would happen to him. And now it seemed she was to be proven right. She watched as the two men followed Rob down the street, keeping their distance in case he turned. She saw the knives they carried, one each, as they held them behind their backs, ready to strike. She saw when they grabbed him and pushed him into the alley. She followed.
"Give us your stuff, now!" Clichéd words, but true nonetheless. The two men who had followed Rob all the way from campus weren't exactly renowned among their friends for their use of witty and smart language. Then again, they weren't the sort to hang around with that kind of person. They held out the knives and pushed Rob to the ground. That was the kind of person they were. As he shouted for help, they grabbed his bag and coat and started rifling through for valuables. Exactly what valuables they hoped to find in a bag full of coursework was unclear, but it was no pressing concern, unlike the wallet hidden in an inner coat pocket. Nobody noticed a red haired girl creep silently toward them.
Emma knew that Rob was in danger. She had to act fast. Not the most difficult opponents to face, but still, they were tough. Two thugs living on the mean streets of inner-city Leeds aren't exactly easy to beat, but then again, she wasn't like most girls. She analysed the situation. A dark haired young man lay on the floor in front of two big men with knives. Rob and his attackers, of course. He called out for help, as they searched his bag. Coursework, and nothing more. As one of the two men searched through Rob's coat pockets, she struck. Coming up from behind she grabbed the head of the nearest assailant, and with a sickening crack she twisted it to the side. He fell to the ground, and didn't get up again. The second wasn't so easy. As she went towards him he dodged and grabbed her in an arm lock. Bringing his knife to her throat, she was helpless.
Rob saw his first attacker fall in front of him, and looked up to see the girl who'd saved him earlier in an arm lock with the other thug preparing to slit her throat. Thinking fast, Rob grabbed his fallen enemy's weapon and lunged towards the other. There was a sound like cutting into a piece of meat, then he noticed the blood dripping from where he'd stabbed the man. It was then that the grip on the girl loosened and her attacker fell to the floor, without a whisper of a noise. He'd saved her life. Looked like he'd returned the favour after all.
Emma felt a huge sense of relief as the man who would have killed her fell dead to the ground. It was only then she realised she shouldn't have interfered again. What was it about this guy? Every time she was near him, her emotions were a riot and she couldn't focus. There was no way she could have left him to his fate. And now he'd saved her own life. It seemed he'd repaid the debt from earlier, but she was in too deep now. There was nothing for it. She had to run again, and this time she couldn't come back. Emotions had nothing to do with it. She wasn't safe, it wasn't safe for him to be associated with her. She'd only hurt him. Coming to university was an attempt to fit in, to be normal. Now she saw it had worked too well. She'd found Rob, and then it had all gone wrong. And that wasn't all. The smell. She had to leave now, the smell was too much. She had to go before she lost control.
Rob called after her as she ran. "Wait! Where are you going?" She ignored him. He ran after her, but she'd gone further through the alleys, leading further into the maze. It was a residential area, near campus, but like so many old houses there were back alleys, tunnels and all sorts that formed a maze a world away from the nearby streets the students of Leeds lived in. He followed as much as he could, but she was fast. Much too fast. It wasn't long before he lost her. And in turn, he realised he was lost himself. Looking around, he saw an open doorway, with a light on. It couldn't be that easy, surely? Looking inside, he saw an empty room, walls completely bare, part of an old house that had long been abandoned even by squatters. The girl who had saved him, the mysterious red haired wonder, was standing in the centre of the room. He walked in.
"Who are you?" Rob had wondered what he would say to her for a long time, but never dreamed of such astonishing circumstances. He knew his words sounded cliché and silly, but at this point he didn't care.
"You followed me." It wasn't a question. "I didn't think you'd manage it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I knew you were special, but to have followed me here? Either you're much more than I thought, or you're very, very, lucky."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Smart too. You're right, of course. I didn't. My name's Emma. And you're Robert."
"Just Rob. How did you know that? We've never spoken."
Emma looked amused, but inside she was burning. She didn't want this conversation, and yet there was no way out. Maybe it would make things easier in the long run if she faced it now.
"I know we've not spoken. But I noticed you before. I followed you."
Now it was Rob's turn to be amused. "I know you were following me. I kept seeing you everywhere I went. Sorry if this sounds rude, but I guess it was pretty stalker-ish of you."
"I'm sorry, I just wanted to know more about you. It's best if I just explain. I saw you on campus once, and there was something about you that drew me in. I don't know what, I don't understand myself, but it was there and I can't stay away. And yes, I know that sounds stalker-ish and I'm sorry. But that's the truth, plain and simple."
Rob was puzzled now. And yet, there was something about her that drew him in too. He wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed she felt the same. "So, what, this is all because you feel something about me? That doesn't even make sense."
"Look, I'm sorry, I know it doesn't make sense, but that's just how it is. Things don't make sense for me, they never have. Alright?"
"Fine. I accept what you're saying, and I can see where you're coming from with this. While we're being honest, when I first saw you I felt exactly the same. And I sure as hell don't understand either. And now this is getting pretty confusing, so how about we sort things out now, eh?"
Emma couldn't explain any of it to herself. The speech coming from her lips was out of synch with her brain, and it seemed Rob felt the same way. Their conversation didn't make sense. Nothing else did either, come to think of it. She had ideas, sure, but none of them seemed to match what she was feeling. And it scared her.
"Fine, then let?s pretend this isn?t happening."
"Sure. And no, because it is happening. Whatever ?it? is. I just want some answers." Rob sounded defiant. "We'll start with what happened this morning. Let's assume for a minute that we are both now having rational thoughts, that this isn't a totally surreal experience and that we are having a normal conversation like old friends in a normal setting. That still doesn't explain what happened this morning."
"What are you talking about?" Rob realised Emma was being defensive. That was interesting.
"You stopped a van going at 40mph, give or take, with a single hand. You ran away like you were never there, and now you're being so evasive. I mean, you ran so fast, I've never seen anyone move like that."
"I am not being evasive..."
"Yes, you are. Who are you, Emma? Really?"
"I'm no-one..."
"You are someone. Please, tell me."
She paused. Should she tell him? Maybe. But then again, would it benefit him to know? And the smell. It had reached her even here. How could it have travelled so far, so quickly? She had to go now.
"Alright. I'll tell you. But not here." Emma knew she wouldn't be able to fob him off any more. She had to tell him, but this wasn't the time.
"Where then? And when?"
"Tomorrow. There's a place in Millennium Square. Meet me there tomorrow for lunch, at midday, and I promise I'll tell you what you want to know.
"So what? This is going to be like a date or something? And then you'll tell me what I want to know?"
"If you like."
"How will I know where to go? It's not as if there?s only one cafe in the square..."
"You'll see me. I'll be waiting."
And with that, she left him to his thoughts. At least she ran at a normal speed this time, he supposed.
Midday. She was waiting at a table outside a restaurant in Millennium Square when he arrived. Was now the right moment to regret what she had said the night before? Or should she tell him? There were no easy answers. And over the course of the night, lying awake in the darkness, she had realised something, that could change everything. It was too late now, of course. She'd said she would tell him everything. And so she would.
"Hi." Easiest way to start, she supposed.
"Hi yourself. So, are you ready to tell me whatever's going on?"
"You know, I lay awake all night thinking that to myself. But I did promise, didn't I?"
"Yes, Emma. You did." It felt odd to Rob to use her name. And yet, somehow, it fitted. He sat down opposite her.
"Alright then. You saw me yesterday, there's not much point in dragging this out. I'm not like other people."
"Well that's damn certain."
"I suppose. I'll just give you the basics first. You can make your own conclusion from that."
"Fair enough."
She hesitated. Was it really worth telling him everything, breaking down the wall she'd so carefully built up over all this time? But of course she already knew the answer to that. For him, it was.
"I'm super fast. I can run faster than any person you've ever seen, you know that. And I have super strength too. I stopped that van dead in the road to save your life."
"Yeah, I kind of guessed that. You're not telling me you're one of the X-Men, are you? What?s your last name then, Frost?" He laughed a little at his own joke, then stopped when he saw Emma?s face.
"Don't be stupid. But that isn't all I can do. I have advanced senses, eidetic memory, and these aren't things just anyone has. I'm special, and that's what scares me."
"Why? Surely those are good things, right? Odd, true, but still good to have?" Rob was pleased she had these ?powers?. Fine. If she was happy then that was alright. Except it wasn't.
"That isn't all that's special about me, Rob. I killed a man last night, and I know it was to save your life. But what you don't know is the smell. I could smell their blood. Even in that house, I could still smell it. And that's what scares me most. Not the memory, or the speed, or any of that. It's the blood. Not just the smell either?"
"You're kidding, right?" He didn't believe her. And yet, how could he not? Surely, after seeing what he had the day before, he had to realise this was true, it had to be, there was no other explanation.
"What do you want me to say, Rob? That this is all a big joke, ha-ha, I'm not really special, I can't smell people's blood? I wish I could but I can't. I'm sorry, but that's how I am."
"So you're telling me you're a - "
"Don't say it."
"Well, what else am I supposed to call you? You're telling me that you smell people's blood. What other conclusion can I draw from that? I notice it's pretty sunny today, and we're sitting outside, how does that work?"
"The stories don't always get their facts right. There's no problems religious symbols, I can go out in the sun and so on. And yes, I do like garlic."
"So that's it? You've told me this, what do you expect me to do now? How do you know I won't tell anyone?"
"Because you won't want people thinking you're crazy. Think about it. We only exist in books, films, games, old legends that nobody even gives any kind of crap about. We aren't real. You start blabbing about what I just told you and people will start asking questions. Do you really want the men in white coats at the door?"
Rob thought for a moment. "Not really. But you just said 'we'. There are more of you?"
"Of course. I'm not the only one. That would be pretty damn silly, right?"
"I suppose."
Emma thought that was it. She reckoned he'd took it better than expected. But there was one more thing Rob wanted to ask.
"Those men last night. The people who attacked me. What did you do with them?"
"How do you know I did anything?"
"Because I went back there. I'd just killed someone, and I don't care that there were no witnesses. Apart from you, I mean. I still killed someone. It hasn't left my mind since it happened, I mean, can you really expect it to?"
"Not really. What's your point?"
"I went back and the bodies were gone. Did you feed?"
"What do you expect me to say?"
"The truth."
"Alright then. Yes, I did. Happy?"
"Do you need to drink blood? Or is it just a habit?"
"Rob..."
"Answer the question, Emma."
She hesitated. "Alright, I don't have to drink blood. It nourishes us much more than anything else, and without it we get weak. But no, I don't have to, but when I go without for a long time the cravings get stronger regardless."
"Am I in danger? Who else have you killed to feed?"
"I can hold it in..."
"Emma, please."
"I didn't want to get involved. I came to Leeds to start again, to try and live a normal life. University, then a job, and then repeat it all again when I had to."
"Just answer the bloody question!"
"Fine! I didn't want you involved because I thought I'd be putting you in danger. As it happens you're good enough at getting in danger yourself without my help. And no, I don't kill to feed. I've had to steal blood from banks at the hospital, I've been breaking into the medical students' labs on campus to get the blood I need, and last night I did something I swore I wouldn't do again."
"What do you mean, 'again'?"
"In London, before I came here, I used to target people. Thugs. Muggers. Anyone who was putting kind, decent people in danger. I felt I may as well do some good if I'm going to kill people. I never asked for this, but I don't have a choice. No-one can hold it in forever. You must hate me..." As she finished, she began to cry, sitting silently as she stared at Rob, tears dripping from her beautiful eyes.
Rob couldn't bear to see her like this. He took her hand across the table. "I don't hate you. I suppose it must have been difficult for you..."
"Oh yeah, that's right. It was difficult. You have no idea..." Emma snorted as she tried to stop the tears.
"But I don't hate you. Not one bit."
As he said this, he leant across the table and took her face in his hands. His lips touched hers and he softly kissed her, knowing that whatever monster she thought she was, he didn't care. All he cared about was how much he loved her, and how he would help her overcome her troubles, no matter what the cost.
"Hi." Easiest way to start, she supposed.
"Hi yourself. So, are you ready to tell me whatever's going on?"
"You know, I lay awake all night thinking that to myself. But I did promise, didn't I?"
"Yes, Emma. You did." It felt odd to Rob to use her name. And yet, somehow, it fitted. He sat down opposite her.
"Alright then. You saw me yesterday, there's not much point in dragging this out. I'm not like other people."
"Well that's damn certain."
"I suppose. I'll just give you the basics first. You can make your own conclusion from that."
"Fair enough."
She hesitated. Was it really worth telling him everything, breaking down the wall she'd so carefully built up over all this time? But of course she already knew the answer to that. For him, it was.
"I'm super fast. I can run faster than any person you've ever seen, you know that. And I have super strength too. I stopped that van dead in the road to save your life."
"Yeah, I kind of guessed that. You're not telling me you're one of the X-Men, are you? What?s your last name then, Frost?" He laughed a little at his own joke, then stopped when he saw Emma?s face.
"Don't be stupid. But that isn't all I can do. I have advanced senses, eidetic memory, and these aren't things just anyone has. I'm special, and that's what scares me."
"Why? Surely those are good things, right? Odd, true, but still good to have?" Rob was pleased she had these ?powers?. Fine. If she was happy then that was alright. Except it wasn't.
"That isn't all that's special about me, Rob. I killed a man last night, and I know it was to save your life. But what you don't know is the smell. I could smell their blood. Even in that house, I could still smell it. And that's what scares me most. Not the memory, or the speed, or any of that. It's the blood. Not just the smell either?"
"You're kidding, right?" He didn't believe her. And yet, how could he not? Surely, after seeing what he had the day before, he had to realise this was true, it had to be, there was no other explanation.
"What do you want me to say, Rob? That this is all a big joke, ha-ha, I'm not really special, I can't smell people's blood? I wish I could but I can't. I'm sorry, but that's how I am."
"So you're telling me you're a - "
"Don't say it."
"Well, what else am I supposed to call you? You're telling me that you smell people's blood. What other conclusion can I draw from that? I notice it's pretty sunny today, and we're sitting outside, how does that work?"
"The stories don't always get their facts right. There's no problems religious symbols, I can go out in the sun and so on. And yes, I do like garlic."
"So that's it? You've told me this, what do you expect me to do now? How do you know I won't tell anyone?"
"Because you won't want people thinking you're crazy. Think about it. We only exist in books, films, games, old legends that nobody even gives any kind of crap about. We aren't real. You start blabbing about what I just told you and people will start asking questions. Do you really want the men in white coats at the door?"
Rob thought for a moment. "Not really. But you just said 'we'. There are more of you?"
"Of course. I'm not the only one. That would be pretty damn silly, right?"
"I suppose."
Emma thought that was it. She reckoned he'd took it better than expected. But there was one more thing Rob wanted to ask.
"Those men last night. The people who attacked me. What did you do with them?"
"How do you know I did anything?"
"Because I went back there. I'd just killed someone, and I don't care that there were no witnesses. Apart from you, I mean. I still killed someone. It hasn't left my mind since it happened, I mean, can you really expect it to?"
"Not really. What's your point?"
"I went back and the bodies were gone. Did you feed?"
"What do you expect me to say?"
"The truth."
"Alright then. Yes, I did. Happy?"
"Do you need to drink blood? Or is it just a habit?"
"Rob..."
"Answer the question, Emma."
She hesitated. "Alright, I don't have to drink blood. It nourishes us much more than anything else, and without it we get weak. But no, I don't have to, but when I go without for a long time the cravings get stronger regardless."
"Am I in danger? Who else have you killed to feed?"
"I can hold it in..."
"Emma, please."
"I didn't want to get involved. I came to Leeds to start again, to try and live a normal life. University, then a job, and then repeat it all again when I had to."
"Just answer the bloody question!"
"Fine! I didn't want you involved because I thought I'd be putting you in danger. As it happens you're good enough at getting in danger yourself without my help. And no, I don't kill to feed. I've had to steal blood from banks at the hospital, I've been breaking into the medical students' labs on campus to get the blood I need, and last night I did something I swore I wouldn't do again."
"What do you mean, 'again'?"
"In London, before I came here, I used to target people. Thugs. Muggers. Anyone who was putting kind, decent people in danger. I felt I may as well do some good if I'm going to kill people. I never asked for this, but I don't have a choice. No-one can hold it in forever. You must hate me..." As she finished, she began to cry, sitting silently as she stared at Rob, tears dripping from her beautiful eyes.
Rob couldn't bear to see her like this. He took her hand across the table. "I don't hate you. I suppose it must have been difficult for you..."
"Oh yeah, that's right. It was difficult. You have no idea..." Emma snorted as she tried to stop the tears.
"But I don't hate you. Not one bit."
As he said this, he leant across the table and took her face in his hands. His lips touched hers and he softly kissed her, knowing that whatever monster she thought she was, he didn't care. All he cared about was how much he loved her, and how he would help her overcome her troubles, no matter what the cost.
Ecstasy. That was the only way to describe this feeling. As they kissed she pushed him back against the wall. Lips moved furiously as they fought for dominance, revelling in the moment and enjoying the untamed passion of young love. As he held her close her hand moved to one side, and took hold of the long, sharp blade. He carried on, lost in the moment, oblivious to the knife in her hand, moving slowly towards him. She pulled back slightly and smiled at him, a smile of death. Then she slowly slid the knife deep into his heart and watched as drops of blood glistened at the edges of her weapon. It didn?t take long for him to die. As his body slumped against the wall, she ran her finger along the edge of the blade and held it to her mouth, tasting the blood she?d spilled. A few minutes passed. A final kiss, on the forehead, and she was gone. The bloodless corpse remained. She was satisfied.
They sat close, not quite touching, but close enough to be able to whisper, saying such words that only the most tender and caring of lovers will dare to utter. As they sat there, waiting, she became bold and moved her head closer to his, a sign that he should follow. He did the same and as his mouth moved closer to hers, she softly kissed his lower lip, slowly turning to face him fully, and pulling his head slowly forward to her. He stayed still, savouring the moment, before gently stroking her beautiful black hair and looking deep into her eyes. Then he began to kiss her fully, with such passion and love that the stars wept for their romance. As they sat like that, together, they thought of their love, and how they cared so much for one another, and rejoiced in their good fortune. She moved away. Taking him by the hand, they walked together to the bed and lay down, touching, arm to arm, hand to hand, lip to lip, body to body. Just lying there, content to be together. They knew their love would always survive, and they were happy.
Silence. He looked around. Crowds upon crowds standing still. Waiting. Ahead a row of uniforms stood. All was still. The waiting continued.
Ahead of the crowds the uniforms started to walk. They advanced slowly as the crowds began to shout. The chants and jeers rose in volume until not even the hardest of hearing could fail to understand. The uniforms walked, and the crowds stayed still.
They saw. The crowds waited, calling to their foe, daring them to come closer. Some had weapons, some went without. Some fought with fists, some with words. Some were peaceful and some were angry. It didn?t matter. As they waited for their enemy to arrive they were all in the same place. They were all there to follow the same great purpose.
The uniforms reached them. The crowds began to break as they were pushed back. The great and noble purpose lost as the fights began. But it wasn?t the angry and the ignorant who fought. They had waited for their fate, and now this was their reward for such patience.
They fought back. The uniforms had begun their assault, and now the waiting masses fought for their freedom. Outnumbered and afraid they began to break. One man watched.
He?d been there, unable to escape the coming storm. Watching as the two great forces battled for control of the streets, fought for supremacy. He?d seen the uniforms as they began to hurt and maim their foe to preserve their cause. He?d observed the crowds as they tried to protect their freedom. And then, he died.
It was a uniform who saw him. He?d been there on the edge, neither taking part nor running. The man who had no place. Neither a uniform nor part of the crowd, he?d waited. And he?d watched.
The uniform ran and struck him down. Not a tough blow, but a blow nonetheless. It had caused his heart to burst, his life to flutter and fail right there on that cold hard ground. The man who watched, watched no more.
The crowds saw. They stopped the fighting and turned. They waited. Then they left. And they remembered.
The uniforms saw. They too waited and remembered. They covered it up. An accident, they said. An unfortunate mishap, a casualty of war. And the crowds heard, and cried ?No! He was the greatest of us all. And he shall be remembered.?
And so it was, that he was remembered, and came to usher a new age, and become a beacon of hope and change for those who desired freedom. His life was worth so little, and yet caused so much. And they all watched. They all remembered.
Ahead of the crowds the uniforms started to walk. They advanced slowly as the crowds began to shout. The chants and jeers rose in volume until not even the hardest of hearing could fail to understand. The uniforms walked, and the crowds stayed still.
They saw. The crowds waited, calling to their foe, daring them to come closer. Some had weapons, some went without. Some fought with fists, some with words. Some were peaceful and some were angry. It didn?t matter. As they waited for their enemy to arrive they were all in the same place. They were all there to follow the same great purpose.
The uniforms reached them. The crowds began to break as they were pushed back. The great and noble purpose lost as the fights began. But it wasn?t the angry and the ignorant who fought. They had waited for their fate, and now this was their reward for such patience.
They fought back. The uniforms had begun their assault, and now the waiting masses fought for their freedom. Outnumbered and afraid they began to break. One man watched.
He?d been there, unable to escape the coming storm. Watching as the two great forces battled for control of the streets, fought for supremacy. He?d seen the uniforms as they began to hurt and maim their foe to preserve their cause. He?d observed the crowds as they tried to protect their freedom. And then, he died.
It was a uniform who saw him. He?d been there on the edge, neither taking part nor running. The man who had no place. Neither a uniform nor part of the crowd, he?d waited. And he?d watched.
The uniform ran and struck him down. Not a tough blow, but a blow nonetheless. It had caused his heart to burst, his life to flutter and fail right there on that cold hard ground. The man who watched, watched no more.
The crowds saw. They stopped the fighting and turned. They waited. Then they left. And they remembered.
The uniforms saw. They too waited and remembered. They covered it up. An accident, they said. An unfortunate mishap, a casualty of war. And the crowds heard, and cried ?No! He was the greatest of us all. And he shall be remembered.?
And so it was, that he was remembered, and came to usher a new age, and become a beacon of hope and change for those who desired freedom. His life was worth so little, and yet caused so much. And they all watched. They all remembered.
Bright. So bright. Lights flash past, psychedelic, mystifying, astounding, mesmerising, all go past in the blink of an eye. But the eye doesn?t blink. Eyes are wide, as if pinned open. Visions flash, past, present, future. All is melded into one, then split into a dozen strands of life, each one turning and curling around within your sight. Music plays, a crescendo of clashing sounds, creating a masterpiece of contrasting form and style. A chorus sings hymns in some forgotten language of old. You don?t understand, you can?t. You merely listen, you simply stare, enraptured by the display across your mind, tattooed visions playing an engaging symphony of light within your soul.
Darkness falls. The visions stop. Replaced with more, they continue to play. The lights aren?t as bright, but the music plays within your head like before. It gets faster. Tempo becomes upbeat, the words you hear become warped and twisted. The lights become darker and duller, purple and green and black across your view. Rain falls from nowhere and lightning strikes from within your imagination. Your eyes are spirals in a crystal frame, as your sight moves to the outside. You see yourself melting, eyes like jelly and legs and arms dripping to the ground. But the ground is no longer there. As the surroundings vanish so do you, bit by bit, piece by piece. You start to disappear. The lights fade, steady, the music starts to quieten. Sleep.
Your slumber ends with more visions, horrific in their nature, dark in their delights. They torment you. Screaming pierces your ears, fire and ice exploding into being all around you. You see the people near you ripped apart by vicious figures, but what they are you cannot tell. Blood sprays into the air, a fountain both beautiful and surreal in its very nature. Some lands on you, all over. The figures are drawn towards you, licking the drops of blood from your naked body, dragging their claws against your skin. But your skin is no longer there. Flesh creeps and muscles tighten, as the creatures, no longer mere figures but horrific forms that belong only in your darkest nightmares, rip your body in two and pick apart the bones and organs. You scream but there?s no sound. Your tongue is gone, your mouth sealed tight, sewn with a needle and thread. Your eyes are pinned open once more, there?s no escape from the nightmare. The pain is unbearable. You feel like a million knives are being plunged into every part of you. The screams of those around you suddenly stops. Silence.
You wake once more, alone. A corridor stretches in front of you. At the end is a mirror. You walk slowly towards it and take a look at your image inside the black glass. Normality. The pain has stopped, the creatures of your nightmare have gone. But it?s not over. The walls drip, blood seeping from cracks and faces staring in the dread gore that runs down each and every facade. The mirror no longer shows your image, but that of a beast, more vile and disturbing than those which saw to your earlier torture. You run back along the corridor, away from these angry things, but reach a dead end. There?s no way out. You feel a sharp pain in your chest and look down. Blood drips once more, but no longer from the walls. It drips from you. You fall to your knees, and with barely a sigh, you become still.
An hour passes. The door is kicked down and your lover finds your corpse alone on the ground. A knife with your hand on the hilt is embedded deep within your heart. Meth is a hell of a drug.
Darkness falls. The visions stop. Replaced with more, they continue to play. The lights aren?t as bright, but the music plays within your head like before. It gets faster. Tempo becomes upbeat, the words you hear become warped and twisted. The lights become darker and duller, purple and green and black across your view. Rain falls from nowhere and lightning strikes from within your imagination. Your eyes are spirals in a crystal frame, as your sight moves to the outside. You see yourself melting, eyes like jelly and legs and arms dripping to the ground. But the ground is no longer there. As the surroundings vanish so do you, bit by bit, piece by piece. You start to disappear. The lights fade, steady, the music starts to quieten. Sleep.
Your slumber ends with more visions, horrific in their nature, dark in their delights. They torment you. Screaming pierces your ears, fire and ice exploding into being all around you. You see the people near you ripped apart by vicious figures, but what they are you cannot tell. Blood sprays into the air, a fountain both beautiful and surreal in its very nature. Some lands on you, all over. The figures are drawn towards you, licking the drops of blood from your naked body, dragging their claws against your skin. But your skin is no longer there. Flesh creeps and muscles tighten, as the creatures, no longer mere figures but horrific forms that belong only in your darkest nightmares, rip your body in two and pick apart the bones and organs. You scream but there?s no sound. Your tongue is gone, your mouth sealed tight, sewn with a needle and thread. Your eyes are pinned open once more, there?s no escape from the nightmare. The pain is unbearable. You feel like a million knives are being plunged into every part of you. The screams of those around you suddenly stops. Silence.
You wake once more, alone. A corridor stretches in front of you. At the end is a mirror. You walk slowly towards it and take a look at your image inside the black glass. Normality. The pain has stopped, the creatures of your nightmare have gone. But it?s not over. The walls drip, blood seeping from cracks and faces staring in the dread gore that runs down each and every facade. The mirror no longer shows your image, but that of a beast, more vile and disturbing than those which saw to your earlier torture. You run back along the corridor, away from these angry things, but reach a dead end. There?s no way out. You feel a sharp pain in your chest and look down. Blood drips once more, but no longer from the walls. It drips from you. You fall to your knees, and with barely a sigh, you become still.
An hour passes. The door is kicked down and your lover finds your corpse alone on the ground. A knife with your hand on the hilt is embedded deep within your heart. Meth is a hell of a drug.
Repetition. That was the worst part. Every day just felt the same, the same routines over and over again. Trying to find a way out. Trying to survive. For Tom, it was nothing like his life so far. He?d always been used to everything changing every day, new assignments and operations to plan, recruits to train, and orders changing all the time. True, military life was all about routine. But at least they varied. Not like this. He couldn?t bear it any more.
Tom-B292. That was how they knew him. They who had looked up to him ever since joining the outfit. He was their mentor, their role model - and now he would be their leader. The younger Spartans had trained under Tom for years and now their commander was missing, presumed dead. They were stuck in a strange place, something the mysterious doctor kept referring to as a ?Dyson Sphere?, whatever the hell that was. Every day they?d spent trying to escape, or looking for food and shelter and warmth. Something to help keep them all alive. And there were the frozen bodies too. The other SPARTAN-IIIs, trapped in cryogenic storage, but neither dead nor alive. From what Doctor Halsey had explained to them, the other Spartans knew that their comrades-in-arms were in Slipspace. Incredible, but true. It made no sense to any of them, but then again, they were just soldiers.
Looking at the others as Chief Petty Officer Mendez, now acting CO, tried to get a fire going, Tom thought back to the days when he was still a child, before he?d ever heard of the SPARTAN project. It had been a long way from here, the ?shield world? that these (what had Halsey called them? ?Forerunners?) had built, and the cave the group was now hiding in. Uncertain of the local flora and fauna, the group had made their way through a series of valleys in the mountains of this world, hiding during the day and travelling at night, attempting to keep ahead in case any of the Covenant had succeeded in following them through the portal they had used to get here. Not knowing, of course, that there were no more Covenant to follow them. Not after Kurt?s sacrifice.
Tom was reminded of the camaraderie he had felt back then, back in his early days. He?d been born on a distant world in the Outer Colonies. Tom had visited so many worlds since then, he could barely remember it now. While he was barely more than a child, his homeworld had been attacked by the Covenant. He?d watched through the windows of a UNSC ship as Covenant cruisers and destroyers had swarmed the planet. He?d seen the bulbous dropships as they flew down to the surface, filled with vicious Brutes and Elites, Grunts and Jackals, fully prepared for the massacre they were about to inflict upon a terrified populace. Tom had been there when the Covenant ships opened fire, raining down plasma and fire on the place he had known as home. When the onslaught had ended, and the evacuation ships were making their way out of the system to safety, nothing was left but glass and ash. Tom knew he would never forget that day. No matter how much he could remember of his world or his family and friends, he would never lose his memories of that simple brutality. It was what drove him on through the hard times, what kept him resolute. He?d spent days after landing on Arcadia, on a safe planet, searching among his fellow refugees, asking everyone he saw if they could help him find his parents. But on the fourth day he?d given up. He realised they?d never even made it off the planet, unlike him. A fear that was confirmed when the man from the government came to see him.
Tom had been put in a small room with a group of other children, somewhere in the refugee camp on Arcadia. He recognised one or two, people he?d seen and played with back home. They were all refugees like him, some from his own world, others from different places. Looking around, Tom knew that they all had one thing in common. They were all orphans of the Covenant. Remembering those days, he thought back to the words that had been spoken. Being told that they would all have a choice, to get revenge on the creatures responsible for their families deaths. To become the best that they could be, to fight with honour and to do a great service for all humankind. Tom had been spurred by those words, but not as much as another. He could recall seeing her for the first time, and noticing a kindred spirit among these strange children and the emotionless soldiers. Comparing their differences, and their similarities. He, grubby and snot-nosed, with messy black hair, standing tall despite everything he?d been through. Barely six years old, yet head and shoulders above most of the other kids in the room. A stark contrast to her, - clean, small and pale with short and tidy black locks and a tiny figure, barely noticeable among the group of children listening intently to the big man in the shiny armour. Though they were so different, Tom knew they were the ones most inspired by what the armoured man was saying. By the soldiers standing there with him. And by their memories of what the Covenant had done to them, and those they had loved. They would be the ones to fight the hardest when they had the chance. The ones who would truly understand what it meant to be a SPARTAN.
Tom would never forget the moment he first met Lucy. And everything they?d been through since. But looking back at the past couldn?t be enough. He knew, all that mattered now? was the future.
Tom-B292. That was how they knew him. They who had looked up to him ever since joining the outfit. He was their mentor, their role model - and now he would be their leader. The younger Spartans had trained under Tom for years and now their commander was missing, presumed dead. They were stuck in a strange place, something the mysterious doctor kept referring to as a ?Dyson Sphere?, whatever the hell that was. Every day they?d spent trying to escape, or looking for food and shelter and warmth. Something to help keep them all alive. And there were the frozen bodies too. The other SPARTAN-IIIs, trapped in cryogenic storage, but neither dead nor alive. From what Doctor Halsey had explained to them, the other Spartans knew that their comrades-in-arms were in Slipspace. Incredible, but true. It made no sense to any of them, but then again, they were just soldiers.
Looking at the others as Chief Petty Officer Mendez, now acting CO, tried to get a fire going, Tom thought back to the days when he was still a child, before he?d ever heard of the SPARTAN project. It had been a long way from here, the ?shield world? that these (what had Halsey called them? ?Forerunners?) had built, and the cave the group was now hiding in. Uncertain of the local flora and fauna, the group had made their way through a series of valleys in the mountains of this world, hiding during the day and travelling at night, attempting to keep ahead in case any of the Covenant had succeeded in following them through the portal they had used to get here. Not knowing, of course, that there were no more Covenant to follow them. Not after Kurt?s sacrifice.
Tom was reminded of the camaraderie he had felt back then, back in his early days. He?d been born on a distant world in the Outer Colonies. Tom had visited so many worlds since then, he could barely remember it now. While he was barely more than a child, his homeworld had been attacked by the Covenant. He?d watched through the windows of a UNSC ship as Covenant cruisers and destroyers had swarmed the planet. He?d seen the bulbous dropships as they flew down to the surface, filled with vicious Brutes and Elites, Grunts and Jackals, fully prepared for the massacre they were about to inflict upon a terrified populace. Tom had been there when the Covenant ships opened fire, raining down plasma and fire on the place he had known as home. When the onslaught had ended, and the evacuation ships were making their way out of the system to safety, nothing was left but glass and ash. Tom knew he would never forget that day. No matter how much he could remember of his world or his family and friends, he would never lose his memories of that simple brutality. It was what drove him on through the hard times, what kept him resolute. He?d spent days after landing on Arcadia, on a safe planet, searching among his fellow refugees, asking everyone he saw if they could help him find his parents. But on the fourth day he?d given up. He realised they?d never even made it off the planet, unlike him. A fear that was confirmed when the man from the government came to see him.
Tom had been put in a small room with a group of other children, somewhere in the refugee camp on Arcadia. He recognised one or two, people he?d seen and played with back home. They were all refugees like him, some from his own world, others from different places. Looking around, Tom knew that they all had one thing in common. They were all orphans of the Covenant. Remembering those days, he thought back to the words that had been spoken. Being told that they would all have a choice, to get revenge on the creatures responsible for their families deaths. To become the best that they could be, to fight with honour and to do a great service for all humankind. Tom had been spurred by those words, but not as much as another. He could recall seeing her for the first time, and noticing a kindred spirit among these strange children and the emotionless soldiers. Comparing their differences, and their similarities. He, grubby and snot-nosed, with messy black hair, standing tall despite everything he?d been through. Barely six years old, yet head and shoulders above most of the other kids in the room. A stark contrast to her, - clean, small and pale with short and tidy black locks and a tiny figure, barely noticeable among the group of children listening intently to the big man in the shiny armour. Though they were so different, Tom knew they were the ones most inspired by what the armoured man was saying. By the soldiers standing there with him. And by their memories of what the Covenant had done to them, and those they had loved. They would be the ones to fight the hardest when they had the chance. The ones who would truly understand what it meant to be a SPARTAN.
Tom would never forget the moment he first met Lucy. And everything they?d been through since. But looking back at the past couldn?t be enough. He knew, all that mattered now? was the future.
Blood Lust was originally meant to be part of a larger project, a couple of years ago, but I abandoned it after a short while. It's in two parts as it's a longer piece. I'm particularly proud of Protest and Psychedelic Nightmare, and I reckon they show off my style of writing quite well from the time I wrote them (sometime in late 2009). I've written all of these in the past three years, and kept them all on my laptop all this time, mainly because I could never bear to delete them, though I guess eventually time will claim them as it has done so many of my other projects in the past.
As always, constructive criticism is welcomed, as I'm always looking to improve (especially as I'm working on a game script and three short screenplays in the near future...).
