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| Thread: Some of my recent fiction writings | |
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2XtremeToTake
Promising
Supreme Hero
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posted November 21, 2013 11:47 AM |
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Some of my recent fiction writings
I was fairly known for my short stories/fan fics that I'd write when I was 12-15 years old. Looking back on them at the age of 23, I find most of them pretty cringe-worthy.
For the newbies around here, here is some of the stuff I wrote as a kid.
Life and Death (Heroes 3 Fanfic)
Efreet Story (Heroes 3 fanfic)
Chronicles of the Unholy One (Original story)
I took a break from writing for most of high school and the beginning part of college, and recently picked it back up earlier this year. I don't really do fanfic anymore, and I haven't been a part of a good RP in ages. Here is a story I've been working on for a while, that I posted to reddits /r/writingprompts forum. The prompt was "A superhero whose power is that any time the character is injured, he quickly heals but some random person is afflicted with the same injury"
I really enjoyed the prompt and wrote a short response, before deciding to write a full story on it. I posted the prologue and chapter 1 to reddit, and HC will get a chapter 2 exclusive!
Prologue
Aaron rolled over in bed, staring at the ceiling. He had never personally met any of his victims. It eased his tension somewhat, to think that they were some random stranger across the world that he'd never have to encounter. He told himself that it was for the greater good, but the thought still ate at the back of his mind.
The incidents kept escalating, and he was unsure as to whether he had become reckless, or whether fate had decided to weave him a crueler web. As far as he knew, the only actual fatality he had ever caused was two months ago, when he dove in front of a semi to save a stray dog. The news that night reported on an older man in Bangladesh who seemingly spontaneously exploded. Sleep evaded him for the next few weeks.
The dog is probably dead now anyways. Stupid mutt. He mused, before rolling out of bed. He walked down the hall and peeked in on his daughter, still fast asleep. He stood in the doorway for what felt like an eternity, watching her peacefully resting. Even at such a young age, she looked so much like her mother did.
Bzzzzt. Bzzzzzzt. Aaron closed his daughters bedroom door and pulled his vibrating phone out of his pocket. It was his father.
"Hey dad, how's it going?" he answered.
"Son, I know you don't like it, but I think you need to turn on the news. It's bad." came the reply.
Aaron walked into the living room and flipped through the channels. An office building downtown had caught fire, and three people were trapped on the top floor, seven stories above the ground. He dropped the phone and sprinted to his car.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived at the scene. The blaze had already claimed several other buildings, and despite the chaos, he could hear the screams from the top floor. Fire trucks doused the blazing building to no avail. He sprinted towards the building, nearly knocking over the fire marshal that stood in his path. "Sir, you can't go in there!" the marshal yelled after him.
Aaron ran directly into the flames, and instantly felt the flames sear off the outer later of skin. However, as quick as it would burn off, a new layer would form in its place. His curse hadn't made him immune to the pain, however. He struggled to find the staircase, his vision blurring in and out as his eyes burned in their sockets. The smoke singed his lungs as Aaron died a thousand deaths. He had no time to think about the consequences as he stumbled towards the stairway. It was already too late now. People died, so he could play the hero.
After locating the stairs, he rushed up. Somewhere between the third and fourth floors, the ceiling caved in. A steel beam impaled him through the collarbone and exited through his lower hip. Aaron screamed in agony as he struggled to keep moving, burdened by the heavy burning beam vertically skewing his body.
He reached the top floor, almost immune to the pain of being burned from within. He looked around, but the haze of smoke made it impossible to see. His vocal chords were nonfunctional, but he heard a faint whimpering coming from the far corner of the room. He stumbled to the source of the noise, relying only on his sense of hearing to guide him. Then he heard the woman's terrifying scream inches away from his face.
He hadn't realized what a horrible sight he must have been. His skin had all but burned away, as his healing factor struggled to keep up with the immense blaze. He felt his body closing up around the section of the beam that had immersed itself firmly within his body. He tried to speak, but could only emit guttural noises. He had no time to explain, as he could feel the flames following him up the building. He grabbed the woman and dragged her to the window, kicking and screaming. He wrapped her tight and leapt out, hoping his plan would work.
He felt his body slam into the ground and shatter his skeleton. He could feel his brain and other organs disassemble, and then reassemble themselves. He hoped the woman survived the fall, that his body would be enough to have broken her fall.
Aaron woke up that night in the hospital, feeling a bit sore but none the worse for the wear. Doctors and reporters swarmed his room, clamoring to hear about his latest impossible feat. He appeased the vultures, knowing fully well that someone, somewhere had lost a son or daughter, husband or wife, brother or sister. Perhaps multiple people; he was still unsure of the details of his curse.
After what seemed like an eternity, he left the hospital and made his way home. He wanted nothing more than to hug his daughter, to apologize for leaving her alone and to promise to never leave her side again.
Aaron walked inside his house and collapsed to his knees in tears as the smell of burnt flesh once again filled his nostrils.
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I almost had a psychic girlfriend but she left me before we met.
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2XtremeToTake
Promising
Supreme Hero
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posted November 21, 2013 11:51 AM |
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Chapter 1
The next few months blended together for Aaron. His grief still stung as fresh as it had the day he lowered his daughter remains into the grave. The doctors had attributed her death to a rare form of spontaneous human combustion, but Aaron knew the truth. So did his father, who hadn't even shown up to the funeral. Aaron didn't blame him though. A year ago they buried his mother, followed by his wife the next month. A man could only watch his son be torn apart internally so many times before it began to tear him apart as well.
The weeks following his dramatic fire rescue, he was hounded by reporters, scientists, and even several government agents. All seemed to note the irony of his daughters demise, but none actually made the connection. It was better that way. The less people knew, the better.
Luckily, the public had ADHD when it came to whatever sensationalist stories captured their attention. A few weeks later, they were rife over some publicity stunt by a pop star. The next month? The latest political scandal.
Aaron sometimes found himself missing the attention, the companionship. He had tried finding the solution to his woes in the bottom of a bottle, but even that didn't work. His liver would process the alcohol, and then simply vanish. He knew someone, somewhere was suddenly feeling very drunk.
It was late at night when he returned from the store with a bottle of Jameson whisky. He didn't know why he kept drinking, perhaps it was simply the placebo effect, or perhaps it was the slight buzz he would get for a few seconds before it simply vanished. Either way, it helped take his mind off things.
He wasn't particularly fond of this area of town, as it was known for its ill repute. After the accident, though, he could no longer stand to be in his old house. The smell haunted him, as did the ghosts of his wife and daughter. He knew he was being followed, but paid it no mind. When you're immortal and have already lost everything you've ever loved, there was little left to fear.
He heard the gun cock behind him. "Stop right there. Don't turn around." came a adolescent voice from behind him. Aaron stopped in his tracks and heard the footsteps behind him. He felt the barrel press between his shoulders.
"You don't want to do this, kid." warned Aaron.
"I'll do whatever the snow I want. And right now i'm taking your snowing wallet. Stop talking or I'll leave you lying on this sidewalk." came the reply. The kid was no older than the age of sixteen, from the sound of his voice.
"I'm going to turn around, and you're going to get your hand out of my back pocket and go home." Aaron said.
"Are you stupid man? Shut up!" came the reply. The kids voice wavered slightly, as if he was just as terrified as the man with the gun to his back should have been.
Aaron felt the hand reach into his back pocket, and as it did he turned around and swung with his left hand. He felt his fist connect with the boys jaw, and he felt the ground shake as the kid hit the ground. What he didn't feel was the bullet exit right through the front of his chest. It wasn't until he looked down and saw the blood dripping from his shirt that he realized what happened.
He looked down at the kid, who scrambled to get up and grab his gun. He rubbed his hand across his chest, feeling the wound close itself up. The kid stared up at him with a look of both fear and amazement.
"Do you have ANY idea what you've done?!" screamed Aaron. He approached the kid furiously and pulled him up by the collar, slammed him against the wall, and pinned him in place.
The kid struggled "Let me go! I'm sorry! Just let me go home, please!" he kicked and flailed wildly, like a cornered wild cat. Aaron tightened his grip on the kid and pinned him harder against the wall. "You have NO idea what you've done, do you?"
"I shot you! And you're fine!" he screamed. "I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me! Somebody help!!" he begged. Aaron planted his knee in the kids stomach to shut him up. "Let's go, you're coming with me." he dropped the kid from the wall and grabbed him by the hair, dragging him down the street. The nearest police precinct was only a few blocks away, although one would never tell judging from the violent crime rate.
"Stop it! Let me go! I'll walk, I'll walk!" begged the kid, fighting as much as he could without ripping his own scalp off. Aaron loosened his grip and allowed the kid to walk of his own accord. Big mistake. The kid wrestled free and ran back to the spot that the gun had dropped. Aaron chased after him but it was too late. The kid dived for the gun and turned around and pointed it at Aaron.
"No, don't!" he managed to scream before he felt the first bullet pierce his stomach. The next one took off a chunk off his neck, and the third hit him on his upper lip. He felt the bullet lodge halfway in his skull. Aaron hit the ground, dazed. The world began to spin as it had inside the burning building. Now, he was angry. He thought of his wife, who, despite his curse, he was unable to save. He thought of the man in Bangladesh, of the thousands of others that had been harmed because of his actions. And he thought of Amanda. His precious Amanda. The anger burned inside him more than the bullets did.
Suddenly, he heard an ear piercing scream in front of him. He sat up, rubbing his face where the gunshot wound had just been. The kid lay on the ground, bleeding profusely from his stomach. He looked up at Aaron with a look of shock and confusion. Aaron pitifully looked down at the kid and shook his head.
The kid coughed up blood and tried to speak. "T-t-tell...tell my momma..." Aaron turned and walked away, leaving the kid to bleed out on the sidewalk. He felt an odd feeling, one he hadn't felt in a while. Was it happiness? Joy? No, it couldn't be. But he knew he had caused that kids death. Not in the same way he caused the Bangladeshi's, nor his daughters, but in an entirely different way. He had wanted the kid dead, and it was so.
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I almost had a psychic girlfriend but she left me before we met.
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