About time i got this part out...it's been quite a while
Malcolm and Brandon had no idea what they were going to do. The island was small, their friends were gone, their technology was destroyed, and worst of all they had no way of getting food. When Greg left he had taken their weapons with him, and had left nothing for them. A few hours after the ceremony Malcolm stated, "We need to do something. Greg is gone and he's not coming back, Chuck is still out their, and we are here defensless." Brandon replied in a rather quiet fashion, "I know, but what can we do? We know almost nothing about this island except where that little pool is, and we can't just go walking around because we have nothing to protect ourselves with!"
"I understand that, but we can't sit here and rot! We need a plan! I know how you feel, I feel the same way....Greg was one of my best friends in the academy! But I know if he were here h'e d scold us for being so weak. We can mourn later, for now, we need to live." With that Malcolm grabed a long pole and began to sharpen it into a makeshift weapon.
The night after the cermony was quiet. Neither men said a word, they just set silently to their tasks and worked until they collapsed. It was sunset before Malcolm finally spoke. "We made great progress today. The branches and leaves you brought me turned out to be perfect materials for a hut...so we wont' have to sleep out in the elements tonight."
Brandon grunted an acknowledgement and grabbed his sleeping unit, he was ready for some seriously sleep.
Hours after the men fell asleep a piercing screech exploded through the nights quiet. Malcolm jumped up and hit his head on one of the rafters of their little hit. He hit the ground concussed and unconcious. Brandon screamed at the sight of his last friends blood and ran for the plane, but it was gone.
Short story by Painful Profits
Read 1105 times
Written on 2006-10-19 at 02:50
Tags Mystery Novel Suspense
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Jungle Struck, Moving On
And with that last word, "Amen", Brandon cast the ashes from the fire that had been burning since the crash into a western breeze and began to weep.Malcolm and Brandon had no idea what they were going to do. The island was small, their friends were gone, their technology was destroyed, and worst of all they had no way of getting food. When Greg left he had taken their weapons with him, and had left nothing for them. A few hours after the ceremony Malcolm stated, "We need to do something. Greg is gone and he's not coming back, Chuck is still out their, and we are here defensless." Brandon replied in a rather quiet fashion, "I know, but what can we do? We know almost nothing about this island except where that little pool is, and we can't just go walking around because we have nothing to protect ourselves with!"
"I understand that, but we can't sit here and rot! We need a plan! I know how you feel, I feel the same way....Greg was one of my best friends in the academy! But I know if he were here h'e d scold us for being so weak. We can mourn later, for now, we need to live." With that Malcolm grabed a long pole and began to sharpen it into a makeshift weapon.
The night after the cermony was quiet. Neither men said a word, they just set silently to their tasks and worked until they collapsed. It was sunset before Malcolm finally spoke. "We made great progress today. The branches and leaves you brought me turned out to be perfect materials for a hut...so we wont' have to sleep out in the elements tonight."
Brandon grunted an acknowledgement and grabbed his sleeping unit, he was ready for some seriously sleep.
Hours after the men fell asleep a piercing screech exploded through the nights quiet. Malcolm jumped up and hit his head on one of the rafters of their little hit. He hit the ground concussed and unconcious. Brandon screamed at the sight of his last friends blood and ran for the plane, but it was gone.
Short story by Painful Profits
Read 1105 times
Written on 2006-10-19 at 02:50
Tags Mystery Novel Suspense
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
