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Mark Masters' Extraordinary Life

Started by Yugi, September 26, 2015, 07:20:10 PM

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Yugi

Yo.

Creative Writing has been a passion of mine since last year, and one of my ambitions for when I become an adult for a long time was/is to become a novelist. It kinda picked up around the last couple of months, and I decided to do Camp NaNoWriMo this month with an idea that I had been entertaining in my mind for a long time. I was going fairly well, until I got bronchitis and later realized that NaNo is actually terrible because of the tight frame and large wordcount (which would have caused me to write a lot of filler chapters if I continued). I'm unsure if I want to still go with it currently, because of the dark and kinda complicated nature of the story, so I figured that I would post this on the forums I go to and get critique here.

So, without anything further, here's the first part of the story. I posted all that I had of it on another forum, but it turns out that people don't like reading 22000 words at once so I'm going to pace this for now.

Just a little warning first. The story I'm writing isn't exactly the most kid friendly thing. Like, in our ratings system it'd probably be rated M or MA15+ for violence and rude language or something like that. I really can't do much about the language, but if you're kinda squemish about violence skip the prologue and chapter 8

And with that out of the way.

Prologue
Mark Masters' Extraordinary Life
By Jeremy MacRae
Prologue: February 15th, 2015
This was the perfect place to begin a story.

The rain fell down from the sky, each drop bouncing off the concrete of the city, completing the natural cycle that kept the earth living. Darkness reigned, the night stretching its reach all throughout the city. The people had long since gone back to their homes, leaving the streets empty; barring the animals of the night and the moon, which gloomed in the distance, providing the one source of light that the city had, at this point. The one sound other than the rain? The thunder, booming through the night, disturbing those still up.

Truly, it was a dark and stormy night. Again, it seemed to be the perfect place to begin a story.
And on this dark and stormy night, a story will begin. The story of a man who lost everything he cared about at a young age. The story of a man who was attacked by his peers, simply for being different from them. The story of the man who had worked to get where he was. The story of a man who was a saviour, the most heroic person to ever live. The story of a man who was willing to do whatever it took, however much he lost, to do the right thing.

However, this place took host to another story on this dark and stormy night. This story, however, was different. This other story was of a man who had one day woken up and said "fuck the consequences, I'll do whatever the hell I want." This man's story told how he had committed several atrocities, without feeling any remorse for what he had done. This man's story told how he stood up, performed an act, and went away without any punishment for what he had done.

However, one of these stories was wearing thin, having reached its climax a long time ago. Now was the Denouement, the moment when the story winds down, not being able to reach its potential again?

And on this dark and stormy night, where nobody would see or hear a thing, one of these stories would begin, and the other would end.

Julian King rushed down the city street, his footsteps splashing the water around him as he made a beeline for the garden, his panic rising. His night had started normally; he went to the nightclub he normally went to, got a couple of drinks, and talked to a couple of people. All normal stuff. But things had taken a bad turn literally the moment he left and now ... this was happening. He was cold, he was wet, and there was a dude with a raincoat who was trying to stab him. He had left the nightclub at 1 AM, the same time he did every night, and then there he was, rushing towards him with the aim of trying to kill him. So he ran, and that brought him to where he was now.

He could see the garden coming right up now. It was the place where he worked during the day, and it would be the place that would save his life come the night. If he wasn't running for his life right now, he'd be snickering to himself. The Rainy Day killer, the "upholder of justice" would be brought down to Earth by Julian King, the man who defeated the law without a scratch to his name. All he needed was some free time to unlock the gate, and then there'd be nobody in his way to bring him down. The thought of it made him giddy, in a way. He'd be able to perform the streak all over again, pretend to be the hero that'll take any willing fucking bimbo off the street and into daddy's arms, and then make sure he heard their screams as he slit their throat. And nobody would stop him, the law couldn't touch him, and the Rainy Day killer would be clueless to where he was going to go next.

Well, that was what he was thinking until he heard another pair of footsteps, right behind him.

His feeling of giddiness then gave way to shit shit shit how can he keep up with me i'm fucked as he got closer to the gardens. He couldn't use the door now; he didn't have enough time to unlock it before vigilante fucker over here got to him. He looked straight ahead now, and put all of his will into speeding up. If he wanted to live, he had to jump the fence. He prepared himself, he was getting closer.

Three.

Two.

One.

Jump!

And he did. He managed to get a grip on the top of the fence, and he allowed himself to hang up in the air for a second. Then, he started hoisting himself up, up over the fence, and

He felt something pull him down and no no no he couldn't be pulled down he was so close and then his hands slipped. What happened next was a blur to him. He went down and then his body moved around a bit and when he could focus again the other person was right behind him and there was a knife to his throat.

"Don't move."

The tension of the situation completely dominated anything else that was happening right now. A metallic feeling was rising and tightening all around him, and in his mind, there was nothing at all in the universe except for him, the hand holding his head back, and the knife pointed at his throat.

"If you try to escape, or if you say anything I don't like, this knife goes straight through your throat, understand?"

He focused on the other person's voice, and ... Jesus Christ it sounded young. Julian King, the person who had defeated the legal system without a scratch, was brought down by a fucking high school student. If this was happening to someone else right now, and if he didn't have a fucking knife to his throat, he'd be laughing his ass off at this. It was so ridiculous; the thought of it would have made anyone die of laughter!

He didn't quite want to die here though, by any means, so he replied, saying that he understood.

"Good. Now, I'll begin with a simple question."

His grip tightened, bringing Julian further back.

"Why did you kill all those people?"

Julian snickered, letting out three small huffs of air from his nose and mouth. It was hard not for him to gloat about what he did whenever it was possible. Again, he was Julian King, the man who had beaten the legal system, but he wasn't allowed to gloat about what he did, at least not to many people. "Because I liked doing it. The feeling of doing it felt amazing to me. And watching everyone else run around trying to figure out who did it was hilarious. Before you go on about how you shouldn't put anyone above yourself, I'm just going to be clear with you. I don't give a fuck about anyone who isn't me. All they are to me are just people to play with. Bugs."

A pause.

"You happy with that, Mr I fight for Justice?"

The other person wasn't quite happy with this answer. Went on about how what he was doing was immoral and unjust and how he hated people who did it because that. Boooring. Julian decided to ask another question. "How about I ask you why you kill? Why you end so many poor, defenceless lives."

No answer. Another snicker came from Julian.

"And what are you going to do when there's nobody left to kill? You going to just spread your justice to whoever wrongs you"

Still no answer. Julian grinned.

"You know, maybe we're not so different, maybe you enjoy the feeling of making somebody else kick and scre-"

Julian wasn't interrupted by something happening in front of him, nor by somebody coming out to save him like anyone who would had seen this should; he was interrupted because a knife went straight through his throat, with his body dropping to the ground at the same time that the other person let go of him. He was on the ground, writhing in pain, with blood spurting out of the edges of where the knife was. The other person was babbling on about something, he couldn't hear. He couldn't focus on anything now, just the pain of what was happening to him right now. He then felt a hand come down, felt a hand start releasing the knife from his throat, making the pain worse. He opened his eyes.

Saw a kid in a raincoat take the knife from his throat, blood pouring out of where the front of his neck used to be.

Saw a kid in a raincoat walk away, not even bothering to look back on what he had done.

Saw his hands cover his throat, in the vain hope that maybe; just maybe, he could live through this, start again.















You know how this story ends.
[close]

Please give me critique for this! Blank praise is also good but I'd like someone to give me actual pointers!