My new story. :P
An insight to Lavender's feelings and personality, during a really windy adventure. Enjoy, me hopeses! ;D :-*
- Sarah
You know that feeling when the barrel of a .22 automatic hand gun is pressed up against the back of your head, and your stomach and hope all drop to the floor like dead weight, with the thought of 'Well, I'm screwed' passing through your mind?
Funny, it seems that such a position, especially when one is upon their knees, breathing ragged, and a bit loose in their sanity, that one can suddenly become fairly cooperative. Not funny, exactly, but funny. You know what I mean.
I can't tell you, exactly, how I was worn to my knees by the male brandishing the firearm behind me, but at that moment, no such certain care of thought came to me. My mind was more directed on the slowly slipping possibility of finding an escape route. I needed to get away from him as quickly as I could manage, for time was running out. Perhaps for my life.
A .22 is not the most deadly of guns, but even a small bullet from it {note the location} could certainly do a job well done to my brains. Woo hoo, gun guy. His pay should be doubled.
"Enough of this," the low toned male purred, bending down to speak in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my pasty-white body, a cold sweat dancing across my flesh. I could feel it begin to pool already in my bra and at the small of my back.
I winced.
"No more running," he growled. "I've had a hell of a time trying to keep up."
"Famous last confessions, ay?" I shot over my shoulder.
"Famous and final."
Perhaps if I'd been in a saner mood, or had had some nice, cold chocolate M'n'M's, I would have thought twice about reacting to his bribe. The male had a steady hand with the gun, but not too steady. In my brain, that was all the convincing I needed.
I drove my foot backward and into his groin, at the same time, wrapping my arm around his gun-holding-wrist, locking him beneath my underarm, and dragging him to the ground with me, wrestling for the machine. He squirmed and hit at my body with his free hand, as I kicked back into him. He was probably twice my weight and near a foot taller than I, so my kicks probably were as painful as a beating with an empty plastic bottle to him, but when I need to I can cling, and I held to his arm. Finally I had managed the machine from his bulky hands, and it went skittering off across the dirt pathway, as he sank his grungy teeth into my shoulder. Eeew.
I released him and rolled away – toward the gun, that is. He scrambled, and in a sort of crawling, scurrying race, tried to beat me to it. I reached it first, but as I rolled away from him to stand, panting, I only dared to think of where exactly I might have been wounded if he'd gotten the weapon. No where good, surely. Duh.
Both hands on the handle, a firm finger on the trigger, my stance anything but gentle, I growled, peering down the barrel to the male resting on his knees before me. I rolled the shoulder of which had been clamped down on, never looking away from him, but wanting to abandon the continuous face off and scour and scrub the area of where he'd bitten me. Sick, that was. Gross, was the word for the hot liquid I could feel, blood and saliva seeping down to meet the coarse beads of my sweat. Ugg.
The male was of a dark shade of tan, a big, bulky, square build, body-builder and part-time cruncher style, with rough, dull, grungy features, twisted into a snarl. Whoa, was he massive. Weird, that I'd managed to get to where I was now. So lady luck has finally decided to help out... Phht. Yeah, right. That and Barney's been arrested and condemned for smoking dope on-set, then released for the pity-me-the-kids-are-insane plea bargain.
"What do you want?" I demanded quietly. "And why are you following me?"
"I want to finish my job, Miss Lavender. I am following you, to do such," he answered blankly, not meeting my eyes, but pretending to be. "My reasons are my own, but I will not stop, until either you, or I, meet the end."
Great. A hired thug. One of those noble people, usually blackmailed, out to get me and prepared to die for whatever cause they worked for. The worst kind of enemy.
"First," I growled, planting my leather-booted heal against his shoulder, careful to slam it against the blade wound I had set upon him earlier, and kicked him backward, to his backside, "buddy, I don't give a-"
Oh, nuts.
When I had finally realized that the thug and I were not alone, there was the end of the barrel of yet another gun pressed forcefully against the rising bruise at the back of my head. Wonderful. Like I said earlier, about my luck curse. To hell with Lady Luck, on that note.
"What don't you give, dear? Perhaps, we can persuade you otherwise?" came the gruff voice of a second male. The voice was a glacier colder than mine had managed to be, and I nearly shivered, forcing it off, holding the .22 steady and down toward the thug's heart at my feet.
When I think about it, the little-big scene right there might actually have been funny, in a 'Heeeeere's Johnny' kind of way. Male thug pointing gun at girl pointing gun at other male thug. Oh, well. My sense of humor has never been as funny to others as I think it is.
I was a mess, anyway. My black jeans and boots and tank were shredded and dirt and blood stained, worn and ruined. My raven hair, tied back into a thick ponytail... my poor hair. My flesh has always been pale, for a mortal, but as of recent, a pasty, ghostly look had seeped into my skin coloring. My boots had a little hole in the toe, where my toes had been narrowly missed by the swinging of a chain saw. I could feel the moist lakeside breeze cool my toes, and I remembered that back at my apartment, I had left the new pair of shoes I had bought... weeks ago. When was it I had showered last? When was it that I had slept last?
Whoops.
I wanted some flip flops and chocolate.
{{Edited Version!!}}
that was the weirdest thing, not the stoy, the name. See my real name is Hope so when I read the title my heart skipped a beat......
Lolz, Lavy.
Lavender! This has got to be one of your best storys, so far. Please tell me there is more!
Lolz. Ya, there will be more soon, thanx guys :-*
Wuvs and huggles
:-* :-* kisses to you too, I've only been here a few months but in truth this is one of the best stories I've read here.
Yup, my personal favorite writers are Lavender and Kiara. Both have such a flair for writing, and, I, as the reader, wish to see much more.
Especially with this story.
yep I have the tendency to write short response in rp's but I also write other stories. They'er ok most of the time.
hey you just gave me a good idea, thanks :-* :-* :-* kisses to all
Thanx guys. :-* Huggles. Here's some mowe stowy! ;D
I had to admit, I've seen better times. There used to be a time when I took ample moments out of my day to make my appearance easy to the eye. But, as confessionals go, I suppose I should say that at that moment, I probably had not met the requirements for public decency, under various ways of inspection. Heh.
It was a confusing situation. One that, lowering the gun I held or not, I probably would not live out of. That's another concept; interesting and almost helpless. Almost, mind you. Just because there was yet another gun pressed to the back of my head didn't make for utter vulnerability.
My hands firm and unwavering upon the firearm, I sighed melodramatically, my gaze still focused sharply at the male beneath my gunpoint.
"Dang, you got me," I said lightly.
"It's a pity when a gifted woman such as yourself dies so early in the game," the male behind me said coolly, pressing the barrel of what I figured to be some automatic pistol, some hand gun anyway, roughly against my skull, pushing me foreword a bit. I wavered slightly, but rested firmly onto my heels, losing my light manner then.
Too bad I didn't have any Tylenol.
"How did you find me?" I questioned coldly.
"Well, it wasn't as easy as I would have thought," he returned, "but after a little poking around, here and there, a few chats now and then... you catch my drift."
I got it, alright. Man, is my sense of catching little things like that keen.
"The Mob boss, Regorassi, {ring any bells?}, gave me a big tip earlier this evening," he finished, leaning closer to my neck as he spoke.
I didn't react, for setting off the temper of the hand, full of machine trigger, would not be of the smartest ideas. I waited, silent.
He inched closer to me, one arm still locked and threatening with the firearm, the other hand resting upon my shoulder, squeezing, my muscles screaming in protest to the sharp, dagger-like pain exploding from his grip.
"Don't," I hissed, "touch me."
All I got was a laugh, and a thug moving to an even closer proximity. Dammit.
But I would not warn him again. I gave him a second or two, to release me, but when he did not, I finally reacted to his summons. Though, maybe not in the way he wanted. I threw back the hand not tied around the trigger of my gun and whirled, my bent elbow connecting with his Adams apple and spinning him away from me. Stopping in a wide, steady stance, I pulled the trigger of my .22, ready for the 'pop' and exertion of the fired bullet. But nothing happened. The gun merely clicked.
The first thug was pulling off a hoax?
Perverted bastard...
I chucked the unloaded gun directly down into the male's head at my feet, and did the only thing I could do. I ran. I ran like a winged freaking maniac.
Behind me, I could hear gruff groans and rising bodies, then heavy footsteps, and then finally, the loud cracking of gunfire exploding into the no longer mesmerizing silence of the vast, abandoned old playground near the Kiretic Ocean.
I had tried to keep moving this way and that {while attempting to avoid playground kiddy equipment} to avoid the fired bullets, ducking my head and trying to scurry fast as humanly possible. But as I was about to round the sandbox and disappear into the woods but three feet before me, a searing, numbing shock erupted through my left shoulder. A stray bullet, I presumed, never even touching the thought that his aim was that well. There was no rattling around, and I could feel warm liquid already bubbling about my just-missed collar, and seeping thickly through my clothing, cupping at my bra and belly button, and at the rim of my jeans.
I wiggled the fingers of my left hand, just to make sure I could still feel them {amazingly, I could feel they were all there}, biting my tongue as I continued to bulled through the thickening woodland, and holding back and sound of exasperation that wanted to erupt from me then.
Gunman: 1, Lavender: nil
{{Edited Version!!}}
your so mean, why would you stop there?lolz keep going!!!!!!
Ya, Lavender! Keep going.
Lolz. Thanx guys. I might have some more up by this weekend. Time is of the essence, and is not on my side as of the moment. :P I'll try to get some more up soon :-*
- Lav.
*jumps around* Ya!!!!!!!
Lolz, that weekend has come and gone, Lavender! I demand more! Lolz.
Seriously, take your time, but tell us if your going to continue at least!
I'm sorry! lolz, I've totally drifted through these las weeks in a confusing daze.. Too much to do..
I'll try to grt some more story up soon. :-*
*pats Lavender on the head*
Good puppy! Lolz.
lolz ;D
{{lolz.
NEW POSTIE!! P.s, I've edited lots of the earlier peices!!!}} Sorry it's small, lolz. More to come soon!!}}
The forestland was cold and damp and murky. I could feel myself begin to sag with a certain dead weight as I entered the outskirts of the city. I hurried across an old, abandoned K-Mart parking lot to my little blue Geo, throwing open the door, dropping into the driver's seat.
I fumbled with the keys in the pocket of my flannel shirt over my left breast, for a moment, wrinkling my nose at the sliminess and smell of bloody metal, pulling out the silver ring, and searching quickly as one possibly can with one uninjured arm, for the little key with a red streak design. Yea, I get bored, too. Sharpies do work on everything. Too bad the red marker stained my thumbs.
'BANG'
I heard the glass of the back window shatter before I even heard the gunshot.
I jammed the doodled-on key into the ignition, turned, and floored it as I shifted into first, second, third, fourth, and then to fifth, hauling freaking ass, skidding out into the highway, and pulling successfully away from the parking lot, lit by a flickering, cracked sign, with big –'Available For Rent'- posters duct taped diagonally across each side.
I wove the car around traffic, turning at various places, at random, for a full fifteen agonizing minutes, until I turned, and sped down the long gravel road that led to my dead aunts little wood cottage. I did a U-turn in the wider part of the gravel road, backed up the rest of the way, and came to a halt near the front door, switching to park, and killing the engine, of which sputtered, and died like an old flame.
Still using only my right arm, I turned the handle, opened the door, and slid out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me. I fumbled as quickly as I could through the freezing fog, up the wood steps, and into the cottage, locking each of my five locks behind me, sealing the enclosure completely.
I slowly stripped down to my Spiderman short-like underwear and black lace bra, throwing the heap of my clothes directly into the white plastic trash can. My under things went into the washer, and I, hit the shower.
OK, stupid.
Stupid, idea.
Yay Lav! Lolz.
Good job, keep going!