Midian City :: View topic

Volk · Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 8:04 am Post subject:

You find a journal laying in the corner of an alley way. It says Alexei, nothing else. You flip to the first page, and see a vivid story beneath the layer of dust. Will you blow it off, or drop it and forget you ever saw it?

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I wasn't one of the outsiders in my childhood, nor one of the fitters. I was made for a long relationship with my parents, following every whim and will. While other children rebelled against strict orders given by 'unreasonable' parents, I was following my parents as a soldier is to a drill instructor, without the backtalk -- and the beating afterwords. -- My parents warrented me to join the Russian Ground Forces, as respectful as I was to them, I was willing. Although I did never really believe this was my true calling, I had to succumb, for I had no other. As I slept in my dampened room within the attic, I heard a faint helicopter sound, not surprising, as the Spetsnaz training facility wasn't too far off. Strange thing was, it persisted. My parents sound asleep, as I peered through my ruffled window. Throughout my childhood .....

-Torn Page-

....all of the crevices and hiding spots within my household. That night is when those spots saved my life. I noticed the squad disembark, all armed to the brim. I noted the officer, and stared into those damned green eyes. As soon as I heard the first gunshot, I silently crept into one of my favourite hiding locations. An hour later, the helicopter left with the squad. I went downstairs, and went into my parents bedroom... What I saw wasn't pretty, nor sweet. My parents lay .. dead .. without emotion. I fell to my knees, crying myself to sleep. As I arised, I collected myself, knowing that what I had there was gone. I gathered what I could, cloth, patchwork items, food, my father's keen taste in vodka's and recepies, thread, and whatever else I could handle. Before I left, I took my father's makarov. I buried my father, then my mother in the back yard, underneath the orchard trees. I said my prayers, and left to the harbour. Without faith, or any sense of belonging; I left my motherland...

....I was nineteen at the time, abandoning my hopes, my dreams, my education... I snuck into a container within a cargo ship under the cover of midnight. Consequencely, there was a radioactive warhead onboard the ship, which would later help me.. The next night, I heard the same helicopter come under the same tense of night as that fateful foreclosing of a day. The troops disbanded from the helo, and went two decks below. The officer stayed above, which I risked my life to get what I wanted. I grabbed him by his throat, chocking him until he was barely alive. I brought him into my container, interrogated him, knuckled him around, and finally splattered his blood and brains over the mint blue coating of the container walls. I took a document off his body, and put it in my pack. I reached my head over the edge of the railing, just as my hearing was shattered by the worst shot of titinitus from the decks below, the helicopter was gone...

As I opened my sleepful eyes, I looked around. Open water, nothing but....

... peice of railing, which surprisingly was floatatious. I reached in my pack and took a swig of my father's favourite vodka recipie, which would keep me going until I reached a new stage of dehydration..

...had awoken on a beach scattered with fragments of metal and sand, which I rose up from and dashed into a darkened alley way. I found an old beer can filled with rainwater, which I savioured greatly. I'd survived much, but I knew my journey was just beginning...

Wh.. [i]My eyes... no where to be seen... warhead has..
[/i]
The rest of the journal is unreadable and damaged by what seems to be some kind of liquid. What you do from there is your own.