Well, I've been reluctant to post my own work here for quite sometime. But, Copyscape exists, and that makes me happy. So, I'll post a story or two.
Anyway, what follows is the first chapter of my pet project novel, "Wasteland Hero." Please give me honest reviews if you read it! (And don't steal it) Thank you in advance!
(Note: This story, and others, can be read on my FanStory account:
Portfolio for Anonymous Reader )
NOTE: Had to cut it in two posts. Was wayyyy over the limit.
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"So, kid," Jonathan said, his mouth full of lamb. "Your first patrol's tomorrow, ain't it?"
Luke sighed and looked down at the untouched lamb on his plate. Poking at it slightly with a simple fork, the teenager let out an evasive grunt and shifted his eyes off to the side, focusing on the whitewashed brick wall of his nondescript house.
"You don't sound too excited," Jonathan said, picking at the rest of the lamb on his plate and gorging it down. "When I was your age, going on my first patrol, I was bouncing off the damn walls. The chance to shoot one of those son of a bitch Raptors, having the whole village depend on you, seeing things that none of these farmers'd ever see."
"I'm scared," Luke said, looking down at his plain, white plate.
"What was that?" Jonathan dropped his meat and stood up from his chair, looming over his son with rage building in his eyes. "Repeat that, boy."
"I-I said...I said that I'm scared, father," Luke stammered, his voice losing confidence by the second as he continued to look down.
"I can't believe this. The village is depending on you, and you're 'scared.' Hell, kid." Jonathan slammed his hand down onto the three-legged, wooden table, causing the plates it held to jump. "You were always a pussy. A good-for-nothing, wimpy pussy!"
Luke knew better than to speak back to his father. One wrong word and he'd get a swift punch in the face, a lesson the young boy learned well growing up all of his sixteen years. However, Jonathan's words pierced Luke's heart. Every insult was like a fiery arrow in his torso, sending shots of emotional pain coursing throughout his body. Jonathan sat down with a grunt, but Luke knew he wasn't finished. The old man needed more insults to sate his rage.
"Listen up, you damn pussy. Your first patrol's important - this time, it's special. Some parley with those Raptor bastards, or something like that. If you screw this up - if you do not bring honor to your family, then so help me God, you will find yourself out of a family." Jonathan's words slammed into Luke like a hailstorm of bricks. The boy's feelings spilled out from his heart to his mouth, and he shot up from his chair.
"Shut up, old man! Can you stop putting me down for one damn - " Luke cut himself off before he finished and simply stared at his father in shock. He hadn't spoken his mind in years.
Jonathan didn't even take the time to be stunned. The tall, middle-aged man shot his arms upon the table and flipped it over, then took a giant stride to loom over Luke. With one swift movement of his muscular arm, Jonathan grabbed at the collar of his son's white shirt and pulled him up. Roaring in anger, the man slammed a balled fist into Luke's cheek, sending the boy's head twisting into the blow's direction. Fear overtook the boy's face as pain throbbed all over it. Luke fully expected to get hit for his stupid outburst, but that foresight did nothing to alleviate the burning bruise.
"Don't you ever speak out of turn with me, child," Jonathan said, pulling Luke face in close to his. He then continued, speaking directly into Luke's ears. "Tonight, you sleep in the cold and shit in the dirt."
Luke's mind scrambled in horror as Jonathan hauled him out the door of their one room house and slammed him into the cold dirt outside. As he hit the ground, Luke closed his eyes to shut himself from the harsh reality of his situation. The sound of the door slamming calmed him slightly; his father was no longer looking. Rolling over in the dust, Luke stood up and began to look for a place to sleep.
The village was a humble little settlement in the barren plains. Miserable, brown dirt surrounded the place on every side, and the same misery seeped into the village itself. Luke walked past the plain, single roomed brick houses that constituted the residency of the area, and their sights were none too spectacular. Not luxurious, but still a far better alternative to taking a nap in the dirt. Luke would have a cold sleep.
Moving past the village's water converter, slipping over its sleek rods, wires, and machinery, Luke found himself wishing it wasn't the day before Initiation. Then, at least, there would be people about at such a young hour of the night. However, the villagers were all busy congratulating their valiant sons and praying for the safety of the patrol. After all, tomorrow's mission was pretty important.
Just then, as if his prayer was promptly answered, Luke made out the shape of a plump person ahead of him, standing in front of a large house. As the boy got closer to it, he recognized the house as one of the farmer's homes. They were rather luxurious homes, boasting not one, but two rooms, as well as a stable for animals. The man turned in Luke's direction as the boy moved towards him.
"Hey! Hey! Hey, what're you doin' out here? It's Pre Initiation!" The chubby man yelled at Luke, waving his hand frantically. Luke stopped in front of him and waved his hands harmlessly, hoping to avoid misunderstanding.
"It's alright, it's alright, I'm with tomorrow's patrol," Luke said, part of him hoping to impress the man.
"Oooh, you with the patrol? Oh! Oh, hey, you're Luke! Jonathan's boy. Ah, that Jonathan. Damn fine Patrolman if I ever saw one. 'Ey, I've been praying for you today! I'd better pray extra hard since you came to see me, ya?" The man continued, a smile materializing on his plump, red face as he went on. "But, boy, what're ya doin' here, anyway?"
"Well, you see...My father kicked me out of the house," Luke said, gathering his courage to look the man in the eyes as he spoke those words. The wide man's face lit up in surprise, and his placed his hands together.
"Oooh...Why?" The man asked.
"Long story, sir."
"Well! Well, well, well!" The man clapped his hands together, then slammed them onto Luke's shoulders with a fresh smile. "Can't have a new Patrolman sleep in the dust until he's out on patrol! Bad luck, brings bad spirits! Say no more, say no more! Tonight, you will sleep in the stables! I would offer you a bed, but alas! My family is not as generous as I!"
Luke eyes lit up. The generosity offered by this man held a stark contrast to his father. For a moment, he wished that this man would be his father instead, then Luke would be free of his patriarch-pleasing shackles...But he shook his head, dismissing the thought. That could never happen.
"Th-thank you very much, sir!" Luke said, bowing his head. The plump man laughed and shook the boy's short, black hair with an outstretched hand and pointed him to the stables. The building itself was a small room with an overpowering odor of animal dung and old hay. A small hole studded the roof of the humble abode, with a noticeable wet spot in the hay underneath it. The sound of sleeping animals' gentle breathing coursed through the air as fields of yellow bristles rested on the floor, inviting in their warmth and comforting appearance. It was no bed, but it was far better than dirt. Luke laid down on a particularly soft-looking patch of hay and quickly lulled into a dull sleep.
The peeping sun came far too soon to prod Luke from his light slumber. Forcing his eyes open, the young man let out a grunt and got to his feet. Brushing stray bits of hay from his pants, he shuffled out of the stable to be greeted by the hustle and bustle of village life. Villagers from all over the settlement were hurrying over to the center, a place of assembly and debate. As he watched the people, burly and skinny alike, rushing towards the center with their children in tow, the realization that they were gathering to see the patrol off - his patrol, dawned upon Luke.
Crap, I forgot my weapons at home! Luke thought. With this urgent message burning on his mind, he rushed back towards his own home, pushing through the light crowds. After a bout of sprinting and heavy breathing, the young man finally came upon his modest house. Just then, a fear entered his head. Would Jonathan forgive him for forgetting his essential tools, as well as being late? Luke's father wasn't exactly the most personable man, and if Luke knew him, Jonathan would answer his negligence with a swift punch in the face. With this black cloud hovering over his head, Luke mulled over to the door and sat down. On something hard.
With a startled leap, he looked down. His arms! The family revolver, passed down from Jonathan's father down to Jonathan and then to Luke, rested outside of the door, looking as imposing as ever. Not only that, but Luke's hunting rifle lay looming over the hand cannon, its sleek, beautiful brown barrel dipping off in Luke's direction, its single eye staring into the distance. With a wide grin on his face, the patrolman-to-be gripped his revolver and placed it into his side holster, then slung the rifle over his back. Just having the guns on his person made him feel more confident. Out in the dangerous Barrens, your gun was your life, and Luke knew that. Who knew when marauding Raptors would come to assault the village, or the crafty Goblins? Not only that, but the threat of other villages always lurked over the minds of the village Dust. Resources were limited, and human beings looked after themselves and families first - species second.