Author Topic: Blurb... Working title.  (Read 719 times)

Offline insomniacvivi

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  • Can insomniacs dream?
    • Insomniac Dreams
Blurb... Working title.
« on: September 18, 2006, 10:46:54 PM »
Okay, so it's at 855... Spare me just the few? :)


The engine room's deep thuds of the turbines moving in perfect unison helped to muffle the screaming. All around us, the pistons churned, and you'd think you would hear the metal slamming as it came down, or when it rocketed back up. But no. Just the thunder of it all.

The .357 doesn't make a sound as it completes it's objective. The bullet stops inside his head, and his forehead becomes a blood spigot.

This is revolution. One soul at a time.

I climb the ladder, entering a long corridor. It's a blinding white. The contrast to the black of the engine room, with only the red flashes of the turbines as they rocketed up, makes my eyes sore.

I hear a yell, and the blap of a gun. Metal clangs to the right of my chest, and I throw myself to the left of the hallway. I peer out, to see two men rushing at me.

My hand brings the magnum up, and fires just two shots. When I look out, the floor is becoming a light red. As I walk past, I remember a nurse telling me something.

She said that blood only gets deeper colored when it doesn't have oxygen. That's why if you wound someone, their blood is a deeper red. From the shock.. I knew she was talking about my blood. You can't ignore the pain of being shot in the lung.

I continue down the hallway, loading three new shots. Suddenly, an alarm goes off, and the hallways turn from their angelic white to blood red. A voice comes over the speakers that I can't see.

"Warning. Intruder Alert. All personnel to alert status four."

It kept repeating. Three times.

More men appeared as I opened a door to my right. Four shots later, I walked up to thier bodies. Thier heads or necks where bloody. I picked up one of thier machine guns. It was next to a man's head, and I could see him looking at me. He blinked. His face twisted istelf into pain and agony, and his body quivered as the last oxygen in his blood went through his heart, and his organs starved for more. His face softened, and whever muscles he were using died along with him.

I pressed on.

Three more hallways, and a whole machine gun clip later, I arrived at his door. The large eagle symbol mounted on it told the whole story. I entered the code I was told in the briefing to enter, and the door slid open.

He stood there, looking out a window into the blackness of space.

I stepped in, and the door closed.

"You made quite a ruckus, Gavin."

"Well, you know me."

"Indeed, I do. I'm the one who trained you."

"If you want to call it that, sure."

"What? You're saying I was a bad teacher?"

"Taking me from my home for your stupid war, that's not teaching. That's labor."

"And yet here you are. You've killed probably hundreds of my men in the years you've been away."

"Nine hundred sixty... Five."

He turned, and I could see the eye. His left appeared normal, but the right was cold, dark steel. The iris was glowing a bright red. It would never blink.

"Is this how you wish to contact me every time? By invading my cruiser and killing off a portion of my crew?"

"I don't call attempting to kill you a little chit-chat."

"You wish to try again, yes? Well. I'm an old man, I suppose I am ready."

I lifted the gun to his face. He was maybe ten feet away.

"You're making this too easy."

"I just have one question. Why me?"

I stopped.


"I'm just a general. Yes, I command troops, but no... Large political choices are influenced by me. On the court of Imperials I am just one vote."

"Doesn't matter. They all listen to you."

"I suppose I have some influence, but nothing more. Anyone with my rank would have the same."

"Then I guess it's just symbolic."

"Symbolic of what? You're rebelliousness? Really, Gavin. Every government, every generation, has rebels. Maybe they are free thinkers. Maybe they just don't like what's happening."

"Both, really."

"Exactly. This whole idea of religion, its nonsense."

"And yet, it's been along longer than your little... Purpose, if you want to call it that."

"Men will always be flawed. They will always believe myths. Of ghosts and spirits."

"Us flawed men, at least have certainty."

"And yet, as being flawed, you will always have uncertainty. Let me ask you this," I said as I stepped closer, "where is your god?"

"He is everywhere."

I stepped closer, until the barrel rested on his chest.

"Is he here? Inside of you?"

"Yes," his face read certainty. He wasn't moving.

The gun fired, and his face turned into one filled with pain. He tumbled over, until he was on the floor, writhing and bleeding.

"Then let your god be released."

I walked out of the room. Ten more men, back to the engine room. I took off from my docked ship.

Can insomniacs dream? - Blog