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11-25-2010, 12:06 AM | #21 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
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She was asleep, her black hair fanned out on the pillow. The sheets was clinging to her every curve. Flint did not notice. He lay on his back next to her and stared out the floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse suite. Below them the city was coming alive in the morning hours. He felt the urge to run, to pick up and just go. Forget the conversations, forget her pleading for his help, just go, Go home to Alison.
Then it struck him, Alison wasn’t at home. He had buried a part of his soul yesterday. And today he was selling whatever was left of it to the devil. She stirred next to him, but not waking. The sheet slipped from her body and barely covered her lithe form. Flint forced his head back into the pillows and felt the guilt start to slowly devour him. It took every ounce of strength he had to stifle the scream that dared to leap from his chest. He and the Baroness had spent the better part of the afternoon discussing her situation. As she talked and he listened, the barman kept bringing drinks. Afternoon turned into early evening. Flint could handle his liquor, but even he had his limits. Apparently so did she. How they got to her hotel was eluding him. He vaguely remembered a taxi. Moving slowly as not to wake her he pushed himself to his feet. From the doorway to the foot of the bed was the tell-tale line of clothing, her leather pants, his uniform jacket, her bra and his shirt. Even his pistol has been discarded and lay still sheathed in the holster on the hotel room floor. He closed his eyes and remembered. It had been passionate and vigorous and at times savage. The broken lamp and missing bedclothes evidence of their drunken exuberance. Flint lowered his head and leaned against the window frame looking out over the city. He felt nothing now, last evening had driven the final nails in the coffin of his former self. He was now beyond guilt, and beyond emotion. Numbness pervaded his entire being. His dog tags clinked loudly off the window. Behind him she stirred again, this time waking. “ Flint, come back to bed, we still have hours before we need to leave” He turned slowly towards her, very much aware that she had let the sheet fall from her body completely. Last edited by Flint071; 11-25-2010 at 12:09 AM.. |
11-25-2010, 01:25 AM | #22 |
Dixieland Delight
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: birmingham
Posts: 2,081
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Quote:
It was early morning and a steady rain was drumming against the window of the house in the quiet D.C. suburb near Alexandria. The house was bathed in shades of gray, as was the man who lay unmoving, yet awake beneath the sheets of the bed. He had not shaved in the last two days and his eyes were blood shot from lack of sleep that didn’t come from half a bottle of Johnny Walker.
Today was the funeral at Arlington. Full military regalia, a twenty-one gun salute and the haunting melody of taps echoing amid the gravestones was yet to come. Now, the scent of perfume from the untouched pillow next to him brought upon a rush of memories that sent a shudder through his entire body. Hours spent laying with her head on his chest on lazy Sunday mornings, the passionate love-making after returning home from long assignments or the gentle caress before falling asleep all played across his scotch addled brain. Groaning, he wiped his eyes as if to wipe away the images that his brain tortured him with. In truth, it was also to wipe away the tears that seemed well up when he remembered her. He willed himself to move, and his body reluctantly followed orders, just like a good solder. Her family was coming today. Damn, if that wasn't going to be hard. Sitting at the edge of the bed he reached for the half empty glass of scotch on the nightstand, the ice cubes having long melted away. The glass clinked against the barrel of the well-worn Army issue Beretta. The hammer was still cocked back from the night before and even thought it was unseen he knew there was a round chambered. It has been a particularly bad night. He swallowed the piss-warm scotch with purpose. More bad nights would come. Reaching back he touched his fingertips to her pillow .....(end) ________________________________________ *Takes place three days after Lady Jaye's death*
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11-25-2010, 01:49 AM | #23 |
Dixieland Delight
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: birmingham
Posts: 2,081
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So there was more.
And I read it. And as I said above, i would definitely read more. Excellent work. Please keep me posted of future works!
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11-25-2010, 06:30 PM | #24 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
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Something just felt wrong.
Flint slide his key into the lock of his front door and hesitated. Half turning he scanned the street, fully expecting to see something, anything. An advancing battalion of Grenadiers, or a column of Hiss Tanks rolling down the quiet suburban streets would have at least explained the growing knot that was forming in his stomach. He shook his head and shot a glance to his car which sat idling street-side. She was in the passenger seat, casually checking her make-up in the visor mirror. Despite himself, he thought back to their shower this morning at the hotel. There was no foreplay, or teasing, in fact, there was not a word spoken, just urgency, as she slid open the shower door and stepped in. Afterwards they dressed in silence. He made coffee and was checking his weapon as she collected her things. He was grateful that she did not act like other women might have after a night of physical intimacy. She spared him the pillow talk and awkwardness that usually came with such things. It was as if they were both taking what they needed from the other, at least in the physical sense, without regard. Flint snapped the clip back into his Beretta, chambered and round and slipped it back into his shoulder holster. “I want to pick a few things up at my house before we leave.” “And if my husband has already ascertained my whereabouts? “He might come to retrieve me” She stood with her hands on her hips. “I’ll chance it, besides, if he knew where you were, I think we’d already be dead.” |
11-25-2010, 06:59 PM | #25 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
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Why should anything feel right? Nothing is.
Flint opened the front door and stepped into his house. Waves of emotion washed over him as he looked around the home they had built together. Pictures of them together on the mantle, her favorite movies atop the DVD player and the flowers he had bought her a week ago still in the vase on the kitchen island. A sob formed in his throat. He closed his eyes and looked away. Flint was a hard man, a combat tested soldier, a brilliant tactician and when he had to be, a killer of men. Of all the experiences and trials that had made him hard, nothing had ever rattled him to his very core as taking the first step into their bedroom. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he propped himself up on the doorframe fighting against the sudden weakness in his legs and the violent urge to vomit. He never imagined it would be this bad. He could have ended it that first night had he been able to pull the trigger as the barrel of the Beretta was in his mouth. If he had, he wouldn’t be here now. His breath rattled in his chest and he wiped the tears away with the back of his hands. He moved deliberately now, quickly changing out of his uniform, which still smelled of last nights bar and Anastasia’s subtle perfume. From his closet he grabbed the canvas duffel which he always kept packed with the essentials incase he had no time between assignments. He could not leave just yet. Flint stood staring at her side of the bed and slowly lowered himself to his knees. Tears flowed down his face as he buried his face into her pillow. It still smelled like her and his heart broke. Forgive me. Flint was not a man that asked for forgiveness, his arrogance, however mellowed by his marriage to Alison, had defined him in many ways. But now, with raw emotion he plead to his dead wife for absolution for sins committed and those yet to come. |
11-25-2010, 11:31 PM | #26 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
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He had not heard them until it was too late.
It was the strangled cry, and then the flesh on flesh slap that shook him back to the present. Flint drew his Beretta as he stood up. Listening intently he heard voices in the living room. Not able to make out what they were saying he crept towards the doorway. Pistol up, aim with the front sights, check the backgrounds. A voice yelled from the living room “’’Ey just come out already, ya tosser. “ Flint groaned as he recognized the Pikey gibberish instantly. Fucking Drednoks. Flint eased himself around the corner and leveled his gun at the closest of the two men standing in his living room. He couldn’t remember the first ones name. Not that it mattered for what was coming. He was dressed like a punk-rocker from hell: a leather jacket with metal spikes protruding from the shoulders, and the wild mass of black hair with a brilliant green stripe down the middle. Anastasia was on her knees in front of him with what looked like the chain of a motorcycle wrapped around her next. Her eyes bulged beneath her cracked glasses and she clawed at the chain trying to gain purchase. Flint fired one shot, no hesitation, no remorse. The bullet sounded as if it struck a too ripe melon as the back of the mans head exploded over the wall. “THRASHER” the other Dreadnok roared. But Thrasher was incapable of responding as his body had already crumpled to the carpeted floor. Anastasia raggedly gasped for breath as the grip was released on the chain. Flint leveled his pistol at the mountain of a man who had taken a step towards him. “I won’t miss at this range.” His warning went unheeded, the Dreadnok was already in mid-swing with what looked like a cinderblock attached to a pipe. Flint fired point blank into his attackers chest. Double-tap. Nothing. The cinder block came in a savage arc. Flint ducked a second too late and caught a glancing blow with the primitive weapon that sent him sprawling across the tiled floor of the kitchen. “GONNA KILL YOU!!” Flint wondered why all these bad-asses always referred to themselves in third person. The two bullets to the chest only seemed to fuel the giant’s rage. Flint’s mind didn’t work like everyone else’s did. He had already assessing the situation and had come up with a workable plan of how to proceed. The adrenalin coursing through his body made his mind sharp and his reflexes equally so. He saw the white crew cut Road-pig sported round the island in the kitchen. Flint lashed out with his heavy booted foot and slammed it into his attackers left knee. Cartilage and bone ground against one another as the giant fell to one knee. Flint was up and launched himself into the air, driving a knee into the man’s face. Road-pig pitched backwards, gurgling on his own blood. Anastasia was by his side. “Come on, we have to go, now!” Flint was in complete agreement. He had to get one more thing from the bedroom. She was leaning heavily on him as they made their way down the walk towards the car. In his right hand was his shotgun. The worn grip was comforting and he held the weapon in front of them as they went. “Wait, Flint, do you hear something” Her voice was raw and raspy and it pained her to speak. Right before the house exploded he swore he heard laughing. |
11-26-2010, 02:16 AM | #27 |
IG 4-Life IG 4-Ever
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Chicago
Posts: 50,866
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Dude omg this story is just awesome man great work I really can't wait to read more is there and way I can get you to email the whole thing its really a good read bro
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11-26-2010, 07:10 AM | #28 |
H.A.T.E.
Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: Pocatello, Idaho
Posts: 635
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Excellent! I really dig the "dark" Flint.
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11-26-2010, 08:42 AM | #29 |
a real american hero
Join Date: May 2007
Location: WV
Posts: 295
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Great work. Im not a reader but u got my interest.
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11-26-2010, 11:22 AM | #30 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2007
Location: Michigan in the sticks
Posts: 1,156
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I agree this story completely has held my interest and is just friggin awesome
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