Write up your best short stories and over the next few years the best from each contributor will be chosen and bound into a book with everyone else's!
The money from this trip will help to fund a WORLD WIDE tour for Derek and his ninth book!
Happy Blogging! :)
~ The Contributors!
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.
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
“Boom.” Astrid said with a dark smirk, and
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
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