Thursday, 29 March 2012

A Story Called...Um...Astrid

This story was originally written as an English Task that somehow expanded. Like most things I do. They are very short chapters though. Veeeeeeey short.
If anyone thinks this is worth continuing, I'll continue it.
And yay for my first post on this blog.


Ch. 1

The sirens blared at a deafening level throughout the prison as Astrid strode through the corridors wearing nothing but the disgusting orange all the other prisoners had to wear. Panicky voices from the security guards clashed horribly against the rough jeers from the inmates as she passed them. Astrid was free from her high-security cell, the bars of which were destroyed, the brick walls in crumbling pieces and the now lifeless bodies of the three security men guarding the cell were slowly being consumed by the large cloud of dust she had left behind. Seven guards wearing bullet-proof vests came charging on to the scene, all holding a heavy looking machine gun each. Why bother - Astird thought to herself as she continued pacing forwards steadily - with the vests? Did it look as though she was carrying a weapon? Besides, the vests wouldn’t help them now. They were in her way, and for that they would need to pay the price. Four of the guards knelt onto one knee and in unison all seven of them opened fire on her. As the bullets bounced off her harmlessly after piercing the despicable clothing, Astrid smiled sweetly and continued walking toward the men.

The men standing staggered back, their guns slowly lowering from Astrid as she continued forwards and gasps of shock escaped their open mouths. The four guards kneeling attempted to scramble to their feet but ended up grovelling around on the floor after they had failed and stumbled over. And still, Astird continued her steady walk forwards, now nearing the guards as the other inmates, all of which were still imprisoned, cheered her on, amazed and delighted that one of their own had escaped a cell. They were wrong though; Astrid wasn’t one of them. She never was. She was her own and singular, independent and strong, powerful. Not a contributor to a petty jail club. She had thought that killing had become boring. She was, however, wrong. Astrid could see that now, after being locked up for so many years. She had heard the guards discussing her sometimes at night, wondering why she hadn’t aged the slightest bit in the fifty years she had been there. She had never told them. She had never spoken to anyone, or indeed spoken at all in the half of a century she had spent here. This rotting, disgusting castle was not going to be a place she remembered.
What should she say? Astrid was moments away from committing her first murder in fifty years. Fifty years too long. But surely there should be some kind of catch-phrase. Even a simple thing that could possibly be remembered. She continued to ponder over this as the guards attempted to scramble to their feet and their companions charged away from the scene. Three were now off the ground. One was slow. Too slow. Slow enough.
Her boot came crashing down on his leg and she felt it bend easily, weak and obeying. It cracked and played nicely against the scream of pain that reverberated throughout the corridor and echoed loudly. A terrible smirk played on Astrid’s face as she took three more steps forward, reaching the man’s head which was now lying back on the ground, eyes screwed up in unendurable agony. And then her boot came down once more, onto his forehead. In that instant, his eyes widened and she saw in them that he knew what would happen. His skull seemed to stretch for a moment, then it gave in, split into two and brains and blood went flying everywhere as his head practically exploded.
“Boom.” Astrid said with a dark smirk, and was gone.

Ch. 2

What happens when you murder millions of innocent people, get thrown in prison, escape, kill another person and vanish into thin air? You create panic. You create unease and fear and a satisfying sense of hopelessness in those left behind. Astrid loved that. You also have to go on the run if you aren’t willing to blow up millions of heads again one by one. Of course, she could simply make a fist and blow up three consecutive countries at once, but she hadn’t used her magic in decades. It may result in her accidentally changing how she used the ability and then blowing herself up along with the rest of the people. And that would be a bad thing. Not that she didn’t enjoy killing. In fact, she could fairly confidently say that her lust for murder has increased tenfold in the time she had been locked up. Why had she even let herself be carted off to that place in the first place? She couldn’t answer. Killing had gotten dull. Why? She couldn’t exactly answer that either. But it didn’t matter anymore. Astrid was back in business, as they say.
She stood on the steep, steep cliff facing the large ocean, the prison some hundred metres behind her, sirens still blaring at an annoying level. The waves crashed noisily below against the cliff face and, despite the incredibly long distance between her and the ocean below, small drops of water still managed to find their way into Astrid’s sight after being flung high into the air. The sounds of guards yelling something brought a smile to Astrid’s lips. They were still trying to locate her. That would never happen now though. She titled her head slightly and the prison easily came into her sight. There wasn’t a guard in sight, no one charging towards, her, no one trying to shoot her, not even someone on watch. Well then, they really wouldn’t ever find her.
Astrid stepped forwards and felt the ground fly from beneath her feet as she pummelled downwards, the ocean’s rough and unstable surface zooming closer and closer. And then a wave leaped out of nowhere at a gesture from Astrid, willing it toward her. It reared, high and coiling and curved her still falling body. And then it collided with the cliff like all the other waves sending tiny bits of water splashing in every direction.
Her body was covered, obscured from sight from anyone who may have suddenly rushed to the cliff and caught sight of her. Astrid’s eyes closed as another devilish smirk flickered across her face and she vanished once again.
Anyone watching would have thought she had been killed.


  1. *grins* That's so cool. I wasn't even thinking about how Astrid is my taken name. I forgot completely, actually. That's a compliment. :)

  2. this blog sounds really cool! Can I join? Do I need to give my email? It's! =-)

  3. an definitely continue it! It's great!

    1. the 'an' was meant to be 'and', sorry!

    2. wait, final comment: when you say 'make money to fund', how do you plan to do than? DO you mean it'll be an actual published book? like 1 that's actually published? Cos that's so cool!

  4. you should finish this!! it has such potential to be an awesome novel that i would buy in a heartbeat.