04-23-2006, 05:38 PM
Notes:
It's a little violent toward the end, but not too graphically. I hnded this in for schoolwork, and the teacher accepted it (she is quite sensitive to things such as that). I got 35/40 for it, which is just ONE mark away from an A*. :angry:
And because it was coursework you can't copy it.
Protected by law. 
I wrote it a few years ago, so I don't know how much I've improved since then.
Any helpful criticism is appreciated, I hope to release something someday
~~~
~~~
Even the manor seemed to shiver on this cold night. Its two occupants, a married couple, were huddled by the open fire, trying desperately to absorb as much heat as possible from its burning embers. The rain had not ceased lashing down on the great building since the afternoon. Occasional veins of lightning shone an eerie fleeting light over the world. George threw another log onto the embers, and it set alight quickly, throwing more light around the room. Shadows danced in time with the flames, creating an odd waltz of darkness. The clouds in the sky, which had been covering the moon, now shifted, allowing the moon to shine its pure white light into the room. The crimson red light seemed to argue with the moonlight before settling down, still throwing shadows onto the walls. George looked at the moon. “Full moon tonight,” he remarked quietly to his wife Sarah. She responded with an uncaring hum, as if the moon was the very last thing she wanted to think about. Attempting to stir some conversation up with his wife, he decided to comment on a local rumour he had heard. “Did you hear the news from the village two miles south? They say some animal’s going round and eatin’ all their livestock. That Farmer What’s-his-name even reckons it’s a werewolf. Village folk, eh?” he said jokingly. The response was another, less patient hum. Giving up on his sullen wife, he pushed himself up jerkily, brushed himself down, and walked into the kitchen.
Watching George leave the room, Sarah smiled. After years of searching, she had finally found out how to get him to leave her alone when she didn’t want to talk. Making a mental note to just hum next time, she brushed the long brunette strands of hair from her face, and slowly pushed herself up as George had done, only with more elegance. As the house was secluded, it had been built with large windows, which could open up as doors. Sarah glided over to one of the glass doors and pushed it open. The door groaned open with a cry of old age, as it had been unused for so long. Recoiling slightly from the rush of cold evening air that tore into the house, Sarah slipped one foot outside, then the other. Pulling her clothes more tightly around her, she walked briskly and with purpose into the thick wall of leaves that surrounded the entire building. She followed a path, which although it seemed erratic and random was in fact a path taken many times before. After a minute of pushing herself through an army of leaves and branches she finally came to her destination- a small clearing in the wood.
The place was almost completely circular, with only memory to serve as directions to the way back. Trees surrounded the entire area, giving the clearing an odd, overly tranquil feeling, as though nothing could ever mar this place. The canopy of leaves above provided perfect shelter from the weather, be it rain or sun. However, even with the sheltering leaves, the moonlight still somehow found a way to penetrate to the ground. Sarah smiled at the feeling of immediate serenity as she lowered herself onto a large branch on the floor. She had been to this place many times before, as it gave her the perfect opportunity to think about the events in her life. This time, she had come to think about her future with George. She knew he loved her, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to reciprocate the feeling. She kicked at a rock, then instantly regretted disturbing the peace as a hundred ants broke free from the tiny hole that had been hidden under the rock. She closed her eyes as the reason she had come here crawled back into her thoughts. She didn’t notice the pair of thin, calculating, menacing eyes stare at her hungrily from behind the wall of leaves. A low, pre-emptive snarl disturbed the otherwise completely silent environment. Sarah’s eyes snapped open with shock. “George...?” she inquired nervously. Surely he hadn’t been able to find her here? The originator of the snarl moved stealthily around behind her, so quickly it was like the creature was made entirely of shadows. Sarah stood quickly, filled with fear. She could feel a presence near her, and it wasn’t a friendly presence. The snarl came again, a little louder this time, and with more malice. Sarah jerkily picked up a branch, not caring now what she disturbed. “I... I’m armed...” she warned the entity. She whirled around, scanning the scene wildly for the creature. However, the moonlight had decided to cease, shrouding her in an endless pool of darkness. Her breaths came short and sharp, as though she were drowning in the eternal darkness. The only light came from two pinpoints of light, set two inches horizontally of each other, hiding in a bush. The pinprick lights moved closer, with a hungry evil. Sarah saw the lights jump, and fly towards her...
George was still in the kitchen when he heard a distant scream. “It must be that farmer Whatsit’s wife thinking she’s seen the wolf again,” he shouted jokingly to his wife. When she did not answer, he simply frowned, bit his lip and sighed. She had been so down lately, he had started doubting his love for her. Whenever these thoughts sprouted, he quickly shoved them down and out of his mind. But they always lingered, growing ever stronger at the back of his mind, influencing his constant stream of thought. Resignedly, he picked up a bread knife and carved himself some rough chunks of bread. Maybe some food will cheer her up, he thought to himself. He took the plate of bread into the front room, where the fire was starting to win its fight with the moonlight, dancing an even more ferocious, foreboding dance than before. Slightly chilled by the sight, he walked into the room, and dropped the plate.
The large window was standing carelessly open, blowing cold, harsh air into the room. The thin curtains that hung haphazardly over the windows blew erratically into the room, causing an effect of chaos. He stared open mouthed at the damage the sharp wind had caused to the room, knocking over ornaments and soaking nearby walls. His eyes stared disbelievingly at the sight, before he noticed Sarah was not present. He looked back at the open window, and almost collapsed with shock; a jet-black wolf was standing in the doorway, panting slightly. Its eyes were narrowed, so that only the darkness of its pupils could be seen. Its rain-soaked fur had stuck up in spikes, giving it a jagged appearance. Its teeth were bared, thick and pointed at the tip. A large bite-mark was etched into its shoulder, seeping blood. The dark red stain soaked over its already dark fur, making it look almost surreal, as if it could not feasibly exist. George backed away slowly, always maintaining eye contact with the beast. The angry slant in its eyes showed it was in no mood to be calmed down, and so George gripped the knife in his hand harder, and tried to lure the wolf into the kitchen. He beckoned with his hands, and the wolf hungrily obeyed. Once in the kitchen, George backed against one of the units, and waited for his chance. The wolf followed slowly and patiently, and stood in the kitchen doorway, smiling threateningly. George raised the knife. The wolf, sensing danger, sprang at him, and George sidestepped out of the way, taking a slash at the wolf. The knife barely scratched its skin, which only made it angrier. It jumped again, this time low, and clamped its serrated jaw into George’s leg. Screaming in pain, he dug the knife into the wolfs face, making it recoil, then drove it straight through the wolfs ribs, severing its heart. The wolf slumped to the floor, spouting blood from its two wounds. It looked at George with a last, pitiful stare, gurgled a final howl, then dropped its head. George became suddenly aware of his pulse hammering at his eardrums. His breathing became quick and shallow, and he began to finally realise exactly what had just happened. Disbelief flooded his mind, shock tingled his nerves and a strange sense of unwanted relief ran down his back. Sweat poured down his face. He looked down at the wolfs carcass. For a reason unknown to him, he suddenly thought of Sarah. He thought that maybe she had run away when the wolf had come in. Wanting to reassure her, he rushed out of the kitchen, stepping around the carcass, and found his way to the stairs. Almost flying up to their room, he began rehearsing what he would say to her when he found her. Almost knocking the door down in his rush to get in, he found the room to be empty. He stood there for a second, completely confused. He had no idea where she could have gone. Deciding to clear up the bloody mess in the kitchen before worrying, he dawdled back down the stairs to the kitchen.
Walking through the doorway, he stared dumbfounded at the body that lay on the floor. For it were not one of a wolf, but that of a woman. Sarah’s corpse lay on the floor, not moving. George turned away, counted to three, then looked back. He had not been imagining it; Sarah was laying dead n the kitchen floor. Numbed with shock, he moved over to her, knelt down, and held her in his arms. Completely frozen by shock now, he just stared open-mouthed at her emotionless face. He still didn’t believe that the woman who he had spent over half his life with was now dead on the floor. He stroked her face with his free hand, and found it to be covered in blood when he took it away. Filled with a sudden desperation, he pulled her face toward him; on her cheek was a deep stab wound, torn by a serrated edge. A cold, stony realisation dawned on him as he felt down at her chest and found a bread knife buried through her ribs. He let her head fall, and slowly pulled the knife from her lifeless body. He held the blade in his right hand, the handle in his left. His sight blurry with emotion, a sudden influx of grief, depression and guilt flooded over him, so intense and unstoppable that before he could stop himself, the knife was driven into through his ribs, tearing his heart. He pulled it out, and with the last of his life, threw it across the room. He curled his arms around his wife, and slipped into death, welcoming the release from his emotions, basking in the feeling of finality.
A wolf watched at the kitchen window. It bowed its head, almost as if feeling compassion, before disappearing into the endless shadows of the night.
It's a little violent toward the end, but not too graphically. I hnded this in for schoolwork, and the teacher accepted it (she is quite sensitive to things such as that). I got 35/40 for it, which is just ONE mark away from an A*. :angry:
And because it was coursework you can't copy it.
Protected by law. I wrote it a few years ago, so I don't know how much I've improved since then. Any helpful criticism is appreciated, I hope to release something someday
~~~
~~~
Even the manor seemed to shiver on this cold night. Its two occupants, a married couple, were huddled by the open fire, trying desperately to absorb as much heat as possible from its burning embers. The rain had not ceased lashing down on the great building since the afternoon. Occasional veins of lightning shone an eerie fleeting light over the world. George threw another log onto the embers, and it set alight quickly, throwing more light around the room. Shadows danced in time with the flames, creating an odd waltz of darkness. The clouds in the sky, which had been covering the moon, now shifted, allowing the moon to shine its pure white light into the room. The crimson red light seemed to argue with the moonlight before settling down, still throwing shadows onto the walls. George looked at the moon. “Full moon tonight,” he remarked quietly to his wife Sarah. She responded with an uncaring hum, as if the moon was the very last thing she wanted to think about. Attempting to stir some conversation up with his wife, he decided to comment on a local rumour he had heard. “Did you hear the news from the village two miles south? They say some animal’s going round and eatin’ all their livestock. That Farmer What’s-his-name even reckons it’s a werewolf. Village folk, eh?” he said jokingly. The response was another, less patient hum. Giving up on his sullen wife, he pushed himself up jerkily, brushed himself down, and walked into the kitchen.
Watching George leave the room, Sarah smiled. After years of searching, she had finally found out how to get him to leave her alone when she didn’t want to talk. Making a mental note to just hum next time, she brushed the long brunette strands of hair from her face, and slowly pushed herself up as George had done, only with more elegance. As the house was secluded, it had been built with large windows, which could open up as doors. Sarah glided over to one of the glass doors and pushed it open. The door groaned open with a cry of old age, as it had been unused for so long. Recoiling slightly from the rush of cold evening air that tore into the house, Sarah slipped one foot outside, then the other. Pulling her clothes more tightly around her, she walked briskly and with purpose into the thick wall of leaves that surrounded the entire building. She followed a path, which although it seemed erratic and random was in fact a path taken many times before. After a minute of pushing herself through an army of leaves and branches she finally came to her destination- a small clearing in the wood.
The place was almost completely circular, with only memory to serve as directions to the way back. Trees surrounded the entire area, giving the clearing an odd, overly tranquil feeling, as though nothing could ever mar this place. The canopy of leaves above provided perfect shelter from the weather, be it rain or sun. However, even with the sheltering leaves, the moonlight still somehow found a way to penetrate to the ground. Sarah smiled at the feeling of immediate serenity as she lowered herself onto a large branch on the floor. She had been to this place many times before, as it gave her the perfect opportunity to think about the events in her life. This time, she had come to think about her future with George. She knew he loved her, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to reciprocate the feeling. She kicked at a rock, then instantly regretted disturbing the peace as a hundred ants broke free from the tiny hole that had been hidden under the rock. She closed her eyes as the reason she had come here crawled back into her thoughts. She didn’t notice the pair of thin, calculating, menacing eyes stare at her hungrily from behind the wall of leaves. A low, pre-emptive snarl disturbed the otherwise completely silent environment. Sarah’s eyes snapped open with shock. “George...?” she inquired nervously. Surely he hadn’t been able to find her here? The originator of the snarl moved stealthily around behind her, so quickly it was like the creature was made entirely of shadows. Sarah stood quickly, filled with fear. She could feel a presence near her, and it wasn’t a friendly presence. The snarl came again, a little louder this time, and with more malice. Sarah jerkily picked up a branch, not caring now what she disturbed. “I... I’m armed...” she warned the entity. She whirled around, scanning the scene wildly for the creature. However, the moonlight had decided to cease, shrouding her in an endless pool of darkness. Her breaths came short and sharp, as though she were drowning in the eternal darkness. The only light came from two pinpoints of light, set two inches horizontally of each other, hiding in a bush. The pinprick lights moved closer, with a hungry evil. Sarah saw the lights jump, and fly towards her...
George was still in the kitchen when he heard a distant scream. “It must be that farmer Whatsit’s wife thinking she’s seen the wolf again,” he shouted jokingly to his wife. When she did not answer, he simply frowned, bit his lip and sighed. She had been so down lately, he had started doubting his love for her. Whenever these thoughts sprouted, he quickly shoved them down and out of his mind. But they always lingered, growing ever stronger at the back of his mind, influencing his constant stream of thought. Resignedly, he picked up a bread knife and carved himself some rough chunks of bread. Maybe some food will cheer her up, he thought to himself. He took the plate of bread into the front room, where the fire was starting to win its fight with the moonlight, dancing an even more ferocious, foreboding dance than before. Slightly chilled by the sight, he walked into the room, and dropped the plate.
The large window was standing carelessly open, blowing cold, harsh air into the room. The thin curtains that hung haphazardly over the windows blew erratically into the room, causing an effect of chaos. He stared open mouthed at the damage the sharp wind had caused to the room, knocking over ornaments and soaking nearby walls. His eyes stared disbelievingly at the sight, before he noticed Sarah was not present. He looked back at the open window, and almost collapsed with shock; a jet-black wolf was standing in the doorway, panting slightly. Its eyes were narrowed, so that only the darkness of its pupils could be seen. Its rain-soaked fur had stuck up in spikes, giving it a jagged appearance. Its teeth were bared, thick and pointed at the tip. A large bite-mark was etched into its shoulder, seeping blood. The dark red stain soaked over its already dark fur, making it look almost surreal, as if it could not feasibly exist. George backed away slowly, always maintaining eye contact with the beast. The angry slant in its eyes showed it was in no mood to be calmed down, and so George gripped the knife in his hand harder, and tried to lure the wolf into the kitchen. He beckoned with his hands, and the wolf hungrily obeyed. Once in the kitchen, George backed against one of the units, and waited for his chance. The wolf followed slowly and patiently, and stood in the kitchen doorway, smiling threateningly. George raised the knife. The wolf, sensing danger, sprang at him, and George sidestepped out of the way, taking a slash at the wolf. The knife barely scratched its skin, which only made it angrier. It jumped again, this time low, and clamped its serrated jaw into George’s leg. Screaming in pain, he dug the knife into the wolfs face, making it recoil, then drove it straight through the wolfs ribs, severing its heart. The wolf slumped to the floor, spouting blood from its two wounds. It looked at George with a last, pitiful stare, gurgled a final howl, then dropped its head. George became suddenly aware of his pulse hammering at his eardrums. His breathing became quick and shallow, and he began to finally realise exactly what had just happened. Disbelief flooded his mind, shock tingled his nerves and a strange sense of unwanted relief ran down his back. Sweat poured down his face. He looked down at the wolfs carcass. For a reason unknown to him, he suddenly thought of Sarah. He thought that maybe she had run away when the wolf had come in. Wanting to reassure her, he rushed out of the kitchen, stepping around the carcass, and found his way to the stairs. Almost flying up to their room, he began rehearsing what he would say to her when he found her. Almost knocking the door down in his rush to get in, he found the room to be empty. He stood there for a second, completely confused. He had no idea where she could have gone. Deciding to clear up the bloody mess in the kitchen before worrying, he dawdled back down the stairs to the kitchen.
Walking through the doorway, he stared dumbfounded at the body that lay on the floor. For it were not one of a wolf, but that of a woman. Sarah’s corpse lay on the floor, not moving. George turned away, counted to three, then looked back. He had not been imagining it; Sarah was laying dead n the kitchen floor. Numbed with shock, he moved over to her, knelt down, and held her in his arms. Completely frozen by shock now, he just stared open-mouthed at her emotionless face. He still didn’t believe that the woman who he had spent over half his life with was now dead on the floor. He stroked her face with his free hand, and found it to be covered in blood when he took it away. Filled with a sudden desperation, he pulled her face toward him; on her cheek was a deep stab wound, torn by a serrated edge. A cold, stony realisation dawned on him as he felt down at her chest and found a bread knife buried through her ribs. He let her head fall, and slowly pulled the knife from her lifeless body. He held the blade in his right hand, the handle in his left. His sight blurry with emotion, a sudden influx of grief, depression and guilt flooded over him, so intense and unstoppable that before he could stop himself, the knife was driven into through his ribs, tearing his heart. He pulled it out, and with the last of his life, threw it across the room. He curled his arms around his wife, and slipped into death, welcoming the release from his emotions, basking in the feeling of finality.
A wolf watched at the kitchen window. It bowed its head, almost as if feeling compassion, before disappearing into the endless shadows of the night.