T2+Narrative

[|google docs]

__Friday 24th June 2011__

**Comment: Wow Curtis this is another action packed story! It grips me right from the beginning. It is good that you are narrowing the story down to a snippet, rather than the whole war.**

**Next Steps: Select some precise verbs for impact to describe actions and events to capture thoughts and feelings "The heavy breathing of the other two S.A.S soldiers made it obvious that I wasn’t alone, knowing this made the situation more deadly although I was trained to think clearly and plan for an escape" (as discussed bring out his feeling - facts over feelings, plans/strategies over being scared)**

I took another deep breath from the damp musty air. The rope, that bound my wrists was so tight that it felt like my arms were wrapped in barbed wire. I could hear the rain, pounding hard against the corrugated iron roof. The room was pitch black. The heavy breathing of the other two S.A.S soldiers made it obvious that I wasn’t alone. I scrabbled for my pocket knife, resting in my left pocket. It was a wickedly sharpened six inch blade with a curved hilt. “Should do the trick” I muttered under my breath. I slipped my hand into my pocket. The knife wasn’t there. “Crap” I blurted. “Ghost!, is that you!” came a whisper from the darkness. I tried to make out the voice. Both of my S.A.S comrades had similar deep, gruff voices. “Get me out of here” screamed a young sounding man. “how many people are in here?” I asked.

Before anyone could answer, a stream of light consumed the darkness around us as an old barred, wooden door flung open and smashed against the wall. “Stop talking” howled an Arabic sounding voice. He stormed into the room, with a loaded assault rifle at the ready. His grey turban rested upon his head, only revealing his glazed brown eyes. The lower portion of his face was covered by a red and white checkered bandana. “Who was talking” he demanded. His english wasn’t very accurate. “Who was talking” he repeated. Once again no one replied. “If no ones going to own up to their mistakes, I’m just going to have to guess, who the bigmouth was”. He stepped over to the young man, who appeared to be a civilian. “Please don’t kill me” he wailed. The terrorist held the rifle to the mans head. Hesitating to squeeze the trigger. Obviously trying to inflict the maximum possible fear into him. The civilian gasped in a failed attempt to protest as the terrorist squeezed the trigger.

“What the hell” Screamed Voodoo. He stood up and sprinted towards the terrorist. I watched in awe as Voodoo leapt into the air hooking his rope bound hands behind the man’s head. He overlapped his arms over each other, wrapping the limp rope around the man’s neck. He pulled his arms back towards himself, violently. I could hear his neck snap, recklessly beneath the warped rope.

The terrorist collapsed and fell dead in a pile of the civilians bloody entrails. His neck bent backwards in an awkward position. “Where’s Wolf” I asked. Voodoo’s eyes, met with the heavily beaten soldier, lying in the corner of the room. “Wolf I screamed. I scrambled over to the unconscious soldier. “What happened” I screamed. His eyes opened as he tried to sit up.

“Are you OK” I asked nervously. “I’ll be fine” he groaned. “Of course your fine” I stated sarcastically. I reached an arm out to help him up. He ignored the hand jutting out in his face and struggled himself to stand up on his own. “They took all of my guns” spluttered commander Wolf, with a mouthful of blood.

We scrambled to the door, hoping we would make it out alive. Heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs ahead of us. “What the hell are you doing” screamed another terrorist. This one was wearing exactly the same clothing as the last one, except this one was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. “How did you escape?” He asked, reaching for his gun.

“Stop stalling” I muttered. “What was that?” asked the bearded man. He aimed his gun at me, slowly walking closer. When he was close enough he slammed the rear end of his assault rifle into my stomach. “Ugh” I gasped, cowering in pain. “You need to learn some respect” he exclaimed. While I was still bent over, the terrorist smashed the end of his gun into my spine, knocking me to the ground. Voodoo leapt into action and threw a punch wildly at the terrorist. His fist connected with his jaw, spinning him around in circles. Dazed, the terrorist began firing blindly. Blinding flashes erupting from the tip of his gun. My two S.A.S comrades ran into cover behind the steps, while I was still lying on the ground. The terrorist walked closer, going in for the kill of the two other S.A.S soldiers. I reached out and clenched his ankle, causing him to trip over. His jaw, cracked and bent upwards as his face collided with the hard stone floor. I forced myself up into a crouching position, and pulled a polished hunting knife, from the terrorists pocket. Making sure he was dead, I held the knife against his throat and pulled down, slicing it open. We rushed up the stairs and burst through the door, out into the rickety streets of Afghanistan. Run down shacks surrounded us and large piles of snow rested on the sidewalks.

“We need a rescue helicopter now!” I exclaimed, noticing the Taliban soldiers, dotting the iron rooftops. I began to hum quietly three long, three short, repeatedly. Hopefully They could here my S.O.S signal back at the base. I had a microchip medically inserted into my forehead, so they could receive my S.O.S requests in situations like this.

“I need you to kill the Taliban soldiers in the area, before I can land” mentioned the helicopter pilot through my microchip. I rushed back inside the hut, where we were being held hostage. I snatched the assault rifle from the dead soldier by the steps. The sound of heavy gunfire, surrounded the hut as I scrambled out the door. I gazed up at the Taliban soldiers firing round after round of ammunition at my two comrades. “Took you long enough to get here” screamed Wolf.

It seemed as though he had fully recovered from his injuries. I gazed at the ground by commander Wolf’s feet. Voodoo lay on the ground, motionless. He had large gunshot woulds to his left temple, his chest and his right leg. He was dead. “Get into cover!” Screamed wolf, signaling for me to take cover behind the barrel next to him.

I rushed clumsily in behind a section of fallen roof from one of the huts, it made a perfect barricade. I reached over the top of the barricade and fired blindly in the Taliban’s direction. I could hear breaking glass, and dying men. I peered over the edge, to find the location of the enemy as a round of bullets lodged in my arm. “Aggghhh” I groaned, moving back into cover, while clutching my arm.

I slid the gun across to Wolf, while I wrapped something around my wounded arm. All I could here was gunshots while I tried to wrap my bloodstained shirt around my infected wounds. “Pass me the gun” I screamed signaling for Wolf to advance to my barricade. He refused to move, yet slid the gun across the ground back over to me.

I looked up again, soon noticing there were only around fifty men left on the rooftops. “It’s safe to land” I screamed into the microchip. I continued to shoot the Taliban soldiers while I waited for the chopper. Eventually the helicopter arrived. We sprinted across, the frozen tarmac towards the helicopter dodging heavy gunfire. “Hurry up” screamed the pilot, as we swung ourselves aboard the helicopter. “We’re safe” gasped Wolf as the helicopter lifted off the ground.

__Wednesday 22nd June 2011__

I took another deep breath from the damp musty air. The rope, that bound my wrists was so tight that it felt like my arms were wrapped in barbed wire. I could hear the rain, pounding hard against the corrugated iron roof. The room was pitch black. The heavy breathing of the other two S.A.S soldiers made it obvious that I wasn’t alone. I scrabbled for my pocket knife, resting in my left pocket. It was a wickedly sharpened six inch blade with a curved hilt. “Should do the trick” I muttered under my breath. I slipped my hand into my pocket. The knife wasn’t there. “Crap” I blurted. “Ghost!, is that you!” came a whisper from the darkness. I tried to make out the voice. Both of my S.A.S comrades had similar deep, gruff voices. “Get me out of here” screamed a young sounding man. “how many people are in here?” I asked.

Before anyone could answer, a stream of light consumed the darkness around us as an old barred, wooden door flung open and smashed against the wall. “Stop talking” howled an Arabic sounding voice. He stormed into the room, with a loaded assault rifle at the ready. His grey turban rested appon his head, only revealing his glazed brown eyes. The lower portion of his face was covered by a red and white checkered bandana. “Who was talking” he demanded. His english wasn’t very accurate. “Who was talking” he repeated. Once again no one replied. “If no ones going to own up to their mistakes, I’m just going to have to guess, who the bigmouth was. He stepped over to the young man, who appeared to be a civilian. “Please don’t kill me” he wailed. The terrorist held the rifle to the mans head. Hesitating to squeeze the trigger. Obviously trying to inflict the maximum possible fear into him. The civilian gasped in a failed attempt to protest as the terrorist squeezed the trigger.

“What the hell” Screamed Voodoo. He stood up and sprinted towards the terrorist. I watched in awe as Voodoo leapt into the air hooking his rope bound hands behind the mans head. He overlapped his arms over each other, wrapping the limp rope around the mans neck. He pulled his arms back towards himself, violently. Recklessly snapping the mans neck.

The terrorist collapsed and fell dead in a pile of the civilians bloody entrails. His neck bent backwards in an awkward position. “Where’s Wolf” I asked. Voodoo’s eyes, met with the heavily beaten soldier, lying in the corner of the room. “Wolf I screamed. I scrambled over to the unconcious soldier. “What happened” I screamed. His eyes opened as he tried to sit up. Are you OK” I asked nervously. “I’ll be fine” he groaned.

== __Friday 10th June 2011__

Anger
Anger lives in the golden flames of hell. He is a raging storm, inflicting pain on those who have ever disappointed him. His blood red eyes intimidate his enemies to the point of self destruction. While he thrashes about, annihilating anything in his path. He is close friends with Loneliness, Power and Jealousy, who continue, to make him severely ferocious. Angers golden, red cloak of flames, thrashes around upon his deformed back, while being battered by Anger’s child, the terrifying hurricane, striking fear into everything and everyone living. Walking across his misshapen war zone, the Earth shakes beneath anger’s footsteps. His cousin, Revenge fills his thoughts, with vengeance and determination. Nothing stops Anger from accomplishing his goals. Anger thinks about nothing besides destruction. He dreams of obliterating anyone who has ever doubted or rejected him. Anger never knew his parents and was adopted at a young age. His mind, corrupted by his haunting childhood.