the story i ever completed so even if its complete and utter rubbish, its still a achievemen!
â€œIf any life form that is legally part of the U.N.B race is slaughtered by a life form who has knowledge of what he has committed, must have its life taken, for forgiveness to take placeâ€ -U.N.B law 7
The clouds moved slowly across the ski, whirling around. Summerâ€™s farm was silent. A few leafs blew past the house. Some where a door slowly creaked in the wind. In fact the only noise came from an open cellar window, a whirring noise, high in pitch.
A bead of sweat went slowly down Chris Summers face. The molten metal incased inside the stove radiating heat. Thick black smoke slowly moved around the room filtering out of the window and up into the sky. After ten minute Chris pulled the hot metal out of the stove, with long pliers before dropping it in to a bucket of ice cold water, next to the stove. Steam bellowed out of the bucket mixing with the smoke to produce a thick grey fog. Chris felt his way around the room. His sight disabled by the fog. He finally reached the catch to the long window that ran the length if the house. He swung him self around the catch, with a groan the window swung open allowing the fog to disappear in to the air.
He fell on to the old wooden chair in the kitchen. He pulled an ice pack from the freezer, lifting it to his forehead, he let out a sigh. Just as he was dabbing away at his forehead, a blinding light bust in to the room, followed by a shrieking noise that caused the windows to crack in there frames.
Chris walked carefully across the field. The light origins seemed to be somewhere in the corn fields. As he approached he noticed massive burn marks descending from the field. A hole had been punctured though the corn. A small distance away, a thin trickle of transparent steam was rising lazily in to the air.
He gingerly stepped though the broken corn. He saw a small metal cylinder half burried in the earth. The steam still rising heavily from it. A small stream of yellowish liquid was flowing from the base of it. On closer expectation Chris saw a small figure. It laid in the shadow of the cylinder. Chris reached in to his belt and pulled out a small kitchen knife he had taken, after the explosion. He raised it as he approached the creature. He slowly reached towards the creatures but pulled it back in alarm as a sharp blade sprung out of the knee. He could see the creatures head move in the shadows as the mouth opened, Chris could see the rows of sharp teeth. Only one word escaped from it mouth:
But Chris mind was made up, scared and alone he only had one choice, he raised the knife high above his head and swung in a giant arc, driving it deep in to the creatures head.
1: 50 years later
The revolving metal disc slowly descended downwards from outer space. Suddenly the craft stopped, hovering 10 metres from the ground. Small trap doors located around the base of the ship opened, four long legs protruded out. Each leg was long and thin with a sharp point at the end, each diving deep into the soil. A door slid open and a long metal bridge protracted out. Upon hitting the ground a cloud of dust rose, it hovered in the air for several seconds before disappearing into the darkness. Fog bellowed out of the door engulfing the field. A shadowy figure stepped out of craft, each footstep echoing off the metal runway. Its eyes shining brightly through the dense fog, a thin red beam cutting through the whiteness. With one fluent movement it got off the runway and stepped on to earth.
St Andrews was a small farming village near Canterbury. A small cluster of shops and houses surrounded by miles of fields. In the centre of the village was a small rustic pub called the Red Rhino. In which a small group of farmers gathered every night to discuss the week events. One such farmer Robert Summers, a middle aged man with dark eyes and slightly damp blonde hair, heavily built and muscular his clothes often looked as though they were going to bust from the pressure. He and his group of friends, who each owned a farm in the area, were discussing the strange behaviour of their animals over the past month. Indeed farmer Jacob complained that his horses, of normally mellow behaviour, were banging against the stable doors. Or farmer Samuel, whoâ€™s cows milk and become sour. Indeed all these unexplainable events had started on the 25th when a blinding light had come upon the village.
â€œLook everyone, I understand what you are going through, but I sure there is a reasonable explanationâ€ shouted Robert over his friends.
â€œI sorry Robert, but I simply canâ€™t believe whatâ€™s happening to are animals is normal!â€ Samuel stated, firmly putting down his beer glass.
â€œWell if you want my opinion, it is something to do with that light a couple of weeks agoâ€ Before Jacob could continue with his opinion, the pub door bust open.
A small boy ran in, no more then ten years old, he was roughly dressed, his hair glued to his forehead by the sweat that covered him. The wind rattled the windows as cold air rushed into the pub. The fire, which was burning brightly only mere minutes ago, was extinguished in seconds. Finally a young woman pulled herself up and walked over to the door and with some effort closed the door, the wind made one last desperate effort to get in before the door clicked into place. Now all eyes were on the boy in the centre of the pub. Sweat still pouring down his face. He breathed in closing his eyes he began to tell his storyâ€¦
The creature walked slowly the fog concealing his face. He clawed his way though the fog tugging as though at a rope. His movements were small and uneven. Indeed if it werenâ€™t for the giant craft behind it you would have thought it was the village drunk lost in the fog, but if not for one thing. The menace, it was just something. Maybe the way every breath sounded like chains rattling, the way it eyes glared out from the darkness. The way it slivered and crawled out of the fog. But no matter the origin it was there, pure menace.
â€œI was walking home from my friendâ€™s right. I was just passing old Roberts farm, you know the dirt path running by the stable. Anyway I was just walking when it suddenly got very cold, like when someone opens a window on a cold winterâ€™s night, a chill thatâ€™s it, a chill. So you know I started moving faster, I was scared. Right so Iâ€™m walking fast now; I finally reach the corner, the one between the stables and the corn field. When out of nowhere a big gust blows clean over.â€
At this point he pointed to a long graze running form his hip down to his ankle. After a pause he decided that the point had been made so he continued.
â€œSo blood is going down my leg, it was like pouring out. But anyway I looked up and saw this disc thingy. Like a giantâ€¦whatâ€™s it called? A yo-yo thatâ€™s it! A yo-yo. So of course I come running ere to tell ya!â€
The boy who told most of the story with out taking breath, now collapsed on to the chair, the barmaid had kindly left out for him. The farmers jumped from seats pushing though the crowned pub they managed to reach him.
â€œWhen was this?!â€ snapped Samuel
â€œCouldnâ€™t have been more then ten minutes ago sirâ€ replied the boy quickly.
With that the farmers stormed out of the door slamming the door hard behind them. The pub slowly resumed it normal noisy atmosphere but people still glanced over at the little boy panting in the chair.
The creature finally emerged out of the fog. It features were blunt and ugly. It eyes were slits of blood red. It face was twisted like scrap metal. Itâ€™s a mouth contains row upon row of metallic teeth, each one as sharp as a razor. It body was long and thin, jagged and rough it spiraled up to the head. It arms were nothing more than skin and bone, but wicked looking blades emerging from the wrists and elbows made up for that. It legs were surprising normal. Indeed apart from the blade forming at the knee it could have been a human leg. But the most deadly thing about this unknown creature was its hands.
Although you couldnâ€™t really call them hands, in fact no more than just two razor thin knives protruding from the arm each one connected to the body by a thin connection of skin and bone. But what caught the eye of the terrified farmer quivering at the things ankle was of the liquid, that I can only assume to be poison, oozing from the tip. The alien picked up Robert in its spindly arms and drove the knife straight in to his stomach.