The Genovesan sighed. Jory Ruhl was such an idiot. Fires only left survivors and drew attention. What could he possibly be thinking?
It wasn’t the purple-clad man’s job to catch slaves, he just made sure everyone did their job. And if they didn’t…
The Genovesan smiled. Ruhl was going to find himself out of the kettle and onto the fire if he continued his stunts. Or worse, on the leading edge of his blades.
His name was Nezzera, and he was a Delóis-class killer, the best of the best in Genovesan culture. Tales of his hook-and-blade executions terrified small children into being good and drinking their milk.
If only Bacari and Marisi could see him now. And they thought he’d never amount to anything. Scum.
A glowing ember flew past his face, …show more content…
He clutched the wound and was speaking rapidly under his breath. Cursing or praying, Nezzera couldn’t tell which. The woman lay face down, probably in shock. Her back and left shoulder were badly burned. Sheathing his knife, he flipped her over and checked her pupils. They were enormous. Definitely shock.
He rolled the two survivors next to each other and stood, brushing the grass off his knees. The woman had the best chance of surviving, and, being fairly young and fit-looking, would probably fetch the better price. Stooping, he loosened her collar and propped her feet up on the only stationary thing - the corpse.
The man was a whole other story. He would need to be carried, tended to, and rebandaged every few days, not to mention that he was a little too old, and his injury would most likely cripple him for life. It was decided then. Nezzera rolled him over and pulled out his knife. The deadly-thin poignard glinted as it left one sheath for another. The man’s eyes, already wide in pain grew huge in fear. He opened his mouth to speak - to plead or something. Nezzera drew back his arm, and stopped.
“Don’t.” The woman croaked. She was desperately fighting the urge to pass out. Maybe his wife? No matter. As the dagger plunged down, he saw her turn her head away.
Dropping the body, he moved over to the woman. Holding his knife up, he spoke to her, deliberately making his voice harsh.
“Don’t try anything, or
She slowed her pace and watched as the larger man pushed the blade into the other man who dropped to the ground. She stopped running and became transfixed with the unfolding drama in front of her.
She looked at the ground, and her eyes looked left and right and she just nodded. I asked her again if she had been struck how. She said he (her boyfriend) pushed her. (Her boyfriend’s name is Gary Laxson, he owns a tattoo parlor next door to the Cellar Door bar.)
Isaac stood there, not able to move a muscle. He kept eye contact with her as he continued shaking. He started breaking into sweats wondering why he wasn’t able to move. One of the men unlocked the cell door, letting Renee
“He was a marked boy. Bullies, drawn by his oddity and hoping to goad him into uttering Italian curses, pelted him with rocks, taunted him, punched him, and kicked him. He tried buying their mercy with his lunch, but they pummeled him anyway, leaving him bloody. He could have ended the beatings
The blood was everywhere, but still, most of the blood covered the woman’s eyes. She seems to have no more energy to pick up the knife. Instead, she murmured:“He’s still alive...You killed him! It’s you! He was still alive when you told me he was
At least she’d drawn blood. It was Quade that she’d stuck, and she was glad for it, even if the damage was minimal. It hadn’t been Quade’s first time on the wrong end of a blade, either. The man was built like a lugnut, and he had a thin, shiny canyon of pink scar tissue snaking down across his face, from above his right eye to the edge of his left jaw. It must have been a real feat just to keep that pug nose intact. “You won’t be so feisty once you meet Mr. Talmidge, miss,” he drawled. He’d torn a section from his t-shirt and tied it tight over the gash she’d made in his forearm with the little pocket knife Brian had given her for her birthday so many years before. She’d finally had a chance to use it for something other than picking splinters.
She cursed herself for forgetting and rapidly came to her feet. He wasn’t dead yet, which was a hell of a good sign, but if she waited any longer, he might be a goner. Which, wasn’t something she wanted to deal with, to be completely honest. Tending his wounds would be the first thing. Next would be a call to the hospital. Yeah, good idea. Though until that happened…
Connie entered the golden jalopy and glanced back at the place she called home. That is when it all hit her; she realized that her normal life would be over and her wish to just die may actually come true after all. “See Connie sweetheart, we’re just going for a ride,” Arnold Friend said with a triumphant grin across his mask of a face.
I hit him there with the edge of my palm with a chopping movement…and he fell down and squirmed on the floor…I left him there and walked out and gave up the strong man’s life once for all. (23)
“Fifty Shades of Grey” by E.L. James, “Gabriel Trilogy” by Sylvain Reynard, and “After” by Anna Todd, are books that sold millions of copies all over the world. What do they all have in common? They were all once fanfictions. But, these are just some of the vast amount of books that were originally fanfiction. Because of these books, fanfiction has been getting a lot of attention over the last year. If you didn’t know what fanfiction was before, there is no way you could ignore it now. Some people may say that it’s just a childish trend that obsessed teens have just started doing. Or people may praise it, and say it’s the start of a new era. But, let me tell you, fanfiction has been around for a very long time. It’s hard to pinpoint where
Caroline stood there looking at the man who just saved her life. She watched as he bent over the dead soldiers, looking through their pockets, looting what little money they had on them. He stood up, turning towards Caroline reaching over his shoulder repositioning the quiver and bow he wore on his back.
What if Darth Vader had been one of the rebels as opposed to the face of the Empire? What if Huckleberry Finn’s story had continued, and detailed his ambitions of running west to Indian territory? What if the story of King Arthur and his knights had taken place in the future as opposed to the past? Questions such as these have been asked for as long as people have been reading for entertainment. Very rarely are questions such as these answered by the authors of the work, meaning that, if a reader is to have an answer, they have to create one themselves. This is why fan fiction was created, and why it continues to hold popularity among fans of the works it is based upon. Fan fiction, while being an entertaining and engaging form of
He had to try again, but he couldn’t see past all of the blood. He grabbed the dangling toe and broke the rest of it off. He knew he couldn’t scream and wake the men up. He bit down on the cloth as hard as he could and moaned.The wounds were not bleeding as profusely because the negative seventeen degree temperature slowed the blood flow. The wounds were bandaged and numb from the coldness and adrenaline running through Finn.