søndag den 21. november 2010

Awww yeaaaah

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Francis Law, ladies and gentlemen.

fredag den 19. november 2010

I am a lazy bastard

The next two weeks will be really hectic with a big school assignment coming up, so stories will probably be few and far between. I'll try to get at least one update per week. Thank you for your patience.

tirsdag den 16. november 2010

Zeke and The Sun

Just a little something I wrote today. Not a direct continuation of the previous Zeke and Ugly Jack stories, but the same setting.

Zeke coughed and spat. Groaning, he got to his feet and looked around. To either side of him, the Wall was broken and shattered. Bits and pieces of the thick, concrete walls were scattered everywhere. Beyond the slabs concrete, the ocean lay gleaming beyond a sandy beach. In the horizon, the sky was a brilliant array of orange and purple.
Suddenly, blinding rays of light from the dawning sun breached the horizon. He gasped and shielded his eyes but did not turn his head away. He squinted at the bright light, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. His hands were shaking as he pulled off his hat and let it fall to the ground. His breathing ragged, he ran his hand through his hair. ”Fuckin' beautiful,” he choked and burst into sobs.

torsdag den 4. november 2010

Zeke, Ugly Jack and a Suitcase, part 3

Harold was breathing hard as he skidded to a halt in an alley. He could hear the clatters and bangs construction work nearby. He had been running for hours, desperately trying to stay ahead of the man who was chasing him. He hadn't actually seen him yet, but a sixth sense had made him duck a moment before the bullet would have struck him in the temple. Instead, it had rippled through his blonde curls and lodged itself in a wall behind him. 
He'd been running since then, and every now and then he'd heard the whistling of a bullet missing him inches. He tugged desperately at the handcuffs chaining the suitcase to his wrist, to no avail. 

Footsteps. He turned around slowly, feeling very cold and very alone. Silhouetted briefly by the headlights of a passing car, Harold saw a dark figure standing at the end of the alley. The figure stepped closer, passing under a light, and his features became visible. He was at least six feet tall. His face was all angles and sharp edges; a black, bushy beard beneath his hawk nose. His eyes, like pools of liquid darkness, were fixed on Harold's. 
"Please," Harold said before the man shot him three times.