The boy.

[captainMorton]

this is the thread ill post my book on, ive just finished the first chapter, and have started working on the second, im only writing this while high though, so it might be a while.

[captainMorton]

The Boy
Chapter 1
Up in smoke
1
The knife flew through the air, spinning end over end. The sound it made when it struck the target was like when an axe makes the first bite into a tree. The Boy stood in a small clearing of trees with two paths entering it, and the piece of wood sticking out of the ground was ten meters from the center. The Boy walked over to observe his handiwork. They were clustered together, like a steel bamboo forest, all twelve of them, in the rough, and now barely noticeable, circle carved into the target. The Boy smiled a small smile, for there was not much left to smile about in the world. He thought about when his grandfather told him about the old days, when people did not have to always carry a gun, or a knife. He remembered his grandfather telling him about when people drove around in cars with out steel plates welded to the sides, and when people could go to a store to buy food, instead of growing it themselves. He remembered when his grandfather told him the world was young.

The Boy started to pull the knives from the target, the smile now gone from his cold, and hard face. “Nice aim” a voice The Boy knew well said, “you might be better than me”. The Boy turned around slowly, and slid the last knife into its sheath on his thigh, “its about time you showed up” said The Boy, mimicking annoyance, but the smile creeping back onto his face gave him away, although it wouldn’t have mattered if it stayed buried, his brother knew him all to well. “I figured you would be able to find something to amuse your self while I said goodbye, besides, I’m always fashionably late” his brother said, now with a smile of his own peeking out from the corners of his mouth, “well now that you’re here, shall we go?” said The Boy, “I haven’t had time to relax lately with mom making me tend the garden”, “I bet you miss me ’, his brother said jokingly “I can hear her now”, “Andrew go clean the yard!” Andrew said in a terrible imitation of their mother, “she always let you off with the light stuff”, “well not anymore, now she wants me to be more like you, find a woman, and have a kid” The Boy said, “I’m only seventeen”. The Boy and his brother, Andrew, laughed as they walked down the path together.
2
They reached the old shed at the end of the path, and went inside. Their uncle was already there, with a smoke in his hand, “sorry we’re late uncle, but Andrew likes to be fashionable” their uncle laughed, and struck a match to light the smoke, “that’s alright boys” (Andrew frowned at this) “but if you were any later, I would have smoked this myself, it’s a good strain, has a nice piney taste to it”. The Boy smiled at Andrews frown, and the way his uncle looked. His uncle always had been fond of the green plant, and tried to emulate his favorite icon. He wore a big woven hat over the dreadlocks spilling over his shoulders, an old denim jacket over a shirt striped with red, yellow, and green, an old pair of shorts, and flip-flop. The Boy looked at himself in the mirror on the wall, he was a good height for a boy of seventeen, about four inches over six feet, with broad shoulders, and hair cropped back against his scalp, he thought he looked a little like a marine he saw in one of the few books his town still possessed, although a marine wouldn’t have been wearing a loose black t-shirt, a fading pair of blue jeans, and an ancient pair of leather boots, and knives, six on each thigh. He looked at his brother, who wore an old baseball cap over his neck length black hair, a white sweater with holes burned into it, and a pair of kakis, he also had a very old pair of boots. Both his brother and his uncle had guns, Andrew had an automatic in his shoulder holster, while their uncle had a large revolver strapped to his waist. One could only get guns when one became a man, and The Boy was only three years away from earning his, until then though, he had his knives. They all sat down around the old table, and started to smoke, their uncle would puff on it a few times, then pass it to Andrew, who did the same, and who then passed it to The Boy, who passed it back to their uncle when he had filled his lungs with the smoke. It continued like this until the smoke was too small for any of them to hold, and Andrew put the rest of the smoke with the other ones too small, in a little box. They all leaned back, and picked up a beer, they were relaxed, and tired. They were out there for over an hour, and by then all half asleep, but they still all heard the twig snap.
3
Their uncle immediately stood and drew his gun, ears straining to hear. Andrew did the same. Meanwhile, The Boy crept silently to the only window of the shed and looked out into the forest, although it was pointless, in the fading light, he could see no father than fifteen meters into the dense forest. Deer? Andrew mouthed to their uncle, he shook his head. All the deer in the forest had either been killed or scared away from the constant hunting. The door creaked, and they both turned in time to see The Boy moving silently out the door. Andrew started for it as well, but his uncle put out his hand, The Boy moved in perfect silence when he wanted to, and could damn near disappear in the dark. He could handle himself.
4
The Boy cursed the smoke, it clouded his thoughts, and slowed his reaction time. He winced every time he heard the leather of his boots creaked. He made his way farther into the forest, well past the shed and the forest, he crept ever father from his home. He stopped and listened. Minutes passed by, and he heard nothing, he was about to turn and go back when he heard it, a sound that would send him into a world of violence and revenge.
The Boy heard a cough.
5
Andrew and his uncle had reholsterd their guns, and were about to call for The Boy, when they both heard a gunshot and then a blood curdling scream. “Move!” his uncle yelled, and then they were both out, and running towards the sound of the shot, guns leading the way. They were still running when they heard a wet wheezing sound to their left, they ran over and were shocked at what they saw. The Boy was calmly standing over a body, a body that had one of The Boy’s knives sticking out of its chest, a chest that was still pumping up and down. Andrew ran over, and The Boy handed him something. Andrew looked down at it, it was a gun, but like no gun he had ever seen in his town. Andrew passed it to his uncle, who looked at it coldly. “Machine pistol” he said, “when I saw that I knew he was here to kill” said The Boy in a voice very unlike his own, “and then I saw this”, he pointed to a tattoo on the mans arm. It was a simple tattoo, a bloodied knife crossed over a revolver, and it meant only one thing. “Raiders” said their uncle, “we have to get back to town, now!” he said in a very urgent voice, the man on the ground started to laugh a wet, gurgling laugh. “Ain’t much more of a town left now” he said “ahh, I wish we was a bit closer I do, so I could hear their screams” he began to laugh again, but it suddenly stopped as the man gasped and then went silent. Andrew turned to see The Boy stepping on the knife embedded into the man’s chest, pressing it ever deeper. “Fuck you”, he said, he then ripped the knife out, wiped it on the corpse, and slid it back into its sheath. “Lets go”, he said to the two men, and then he took of at a run towards the town. The two men followed.
6
The town was in flames.
The Boy stood on the edge of the town, and he could se it all. People he had grown up with were lying dead in the streets, and running from the raiders. But none were fighting back, the ones who did were already dead. The Raiders were loading all the food, guns, and fuel they could find into old pick up trucks, and he could see more already driving off with their loot. There were only about thirty raiders left in the small town, some rode old motorcycles through the town, shooting anyone they saw, and others walked through with fire shooters, setting the wooden houses alight.
Andrew and his uncle ran up just as The Boy started to run into the town, and they followed, Andrew flicking off the safety on his gun, and his uncle thumbing back the hammer of his.

As he ran into the burning town, The Boy pulled out two of his knives, he ran between two of the burning buildings, and a motorcycle drove past him, as the raider turned his head to see if it was one of his own, The Boys knife took him through the eye, he was literally dead before he knew what hit him. The front tire of the bike twisted and the corpse was flung from it as the bike somersaulted through the air, it landed in a twisted heap of metal and plastic. The Boy pulled the knife from the corpse and ran on, he heard the gunshots of pistols to his left and knew that hid brother and uncle were doing their part, he went looking for his next victim. The Boy came across one of the fire shooters next, he saw him kick in a door, and look inside, when he saw nothing of value, he lit the place up. The Boy ran out behind him and stuck a knife in the mans spine, gave it a vicious twist, and then let the body fall, he ran off between the houses, pausing to grab a four foot steel pole as he went. He poked his head out from around the corner and saw another biker coming down the street. He pulled back, and when the biker came into he field of vision, he thrust the pole into the spokes of the bike’s wheel. The effect was incredible, the bike flipped end over end four times until finally skidding to a stop on top of the mangled rider, The Boy watched this with a detached look and then ran on. He then came upon a laughing man standing over a screaming woman he recognized as his neighbor, and sneaked up behind him. Just as the laughing man rose the gun to kill the woman, The Boy slit the mans throat, and raised the arm holding the gun away from the woman at the same time, the body in his hands convulsed violently, and the gun in his hand started to fire rapidly and the hand around it clenched, then the body went limp, and The Boy let it fall lifeless to the ground. “Run!” he said to the woman, who then proceeded to do just that.
The Boy ran in the direction of the pick-ups, whose engines he heard starting up, and driving off.

As he reached the edge of town, he saw that the last of the pick ups had left, and now there were only ten men on motorcycles left, most were on dirt bikes, as were the two he killed earlier, but there was one standing beside what the books called a chopper. He then saw his brother hiding behind a stack of crates, and his uncle standing behind a large maple tree, he also saw that they saw him, and that they wanted to kill these men as much as he did. He held up his hand, and started counting down on it so that Andrew and his uncle could see.
Five, these fuckers attacked my town, thought The Boy. Four, we cant let them get away. Three, they killed my friends. Two, they cant be allowed to survive. One, die.

The Boy came around the house he was hiding behind at the same time Andrew and his uncle broke their cover.

[WeedGuru_Flow]

NIce writing man, is it in a post apocalyptic setting or something?

keep 'em coming

[captainMorton]

yeah it is, im thinking like 3 generations from now, like it would be our great grandchildren