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Old June 24th, 2013 (4:08 AM).
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Deathbot Deathbot is offline
Chicken Apocalypse Survivor
    Join Date: Mar 2013
    Location: The Red Waste
    Age: 19
    Gender: Male
    Nature: Gentle
    Posts: 24
    I honestly believe that to be the best title ever

    Anyway, a couple of months ago I posted the first chapter of a book I had started. Well since then my writing style has completely changed. I would love some feedback on what I have recently written and I will post in scenes rather than whole chapters, making it easier to read as they are much shorter.
    So here we go, hopefully you enjoy it and get attached to my characters.

    Chapter 1- Raid
    The rain was relentless.
    The boy had sat in the dark dungeon for what felt like hours, trying to keep the fear in.
    He didn't know what was going on outside, but he knew all that mattered was that he be quiet. In fact, it was so important, that it was one of the last things his mother had said to him before she'd left. 'Stay quiet and do not move. Be brave. I love you, Swift,' she had told him as she kissed his forehead, and although he was only a very young boy, he had picked up on the fear in her voice.
    So he sat, motionless, cold, hungry and most of all, tired. The boy was so very tired, and yet, he would not let sleep take him for fear of what lay outside in the storm.
    What's going on? He thought, afraid that he already knew the answer. The city was under attack.
    An hour passed, and then two. The child's muscles were beginning to cramp up from being in a curled position for so long and he gave a silent scream as he felt pain rip through his left leg. A single tear from both the pain and the fear slipped down his face and fell to the cold stone floor. His breathing sped up as he began to hyperventilate quietly.
    He willed himself to be calm and slowly stretched his legs, thinking there could be no harm in stopping a cramp, but much harm in letting it remain. He laid down his legs on the cold stone and stretched the way he had been taught when he had first shown signs of cramps. The pain quickly fled but he held the position of a few more minutes before returning into a ball in the corner of the underground warehouse.
    The child wondered how long it would take before his mother returned for him. If she returned. Finally, the boy gave in to the darkness and began to sob quietly. He was afraid. Not just afraid for himself, but afraid for his mother. Tears fell down his face unchecked until he finally fell asleep.


    When the boy awoke he felt just as tired as he had before.
    He had no idea exactly how long he had been asleep, but he judged it couldn't have been long. Nothing had changed while he had slept, except for one thing: the rain had stopped.
    He felt uncomfortable in his ball position and untangled himself, sitting on the hard floor, legs out. He was so tired that he no longer gave much thought to his own safety, and besides, there was only one entrance into this basement, and he could quickly curl up again if he had to do so.
    Feeling slightly more comfortable, he began to ponder what he would do if his mother didn't return soon. He was small and he knew he would have to use that to his advantage if he was to survive. He decided that if his mother didn't return within the hour he would try to sneak out of the basement and search for someone, anyone, that he knew. He hoped that he had slept for longer than he supposed and that the raiders would be gone by now, but he doubted it.
    The hour passed torturously slowly and when he was sure an hour was up the boy carefully rose to his feet, using the boxes to his right to steady himself. After sitting for so long on the ice cold floor his legs felt extremely numb and he had to support himself on the boxes as he walked. Eventually his legs warmed up and he made his way to where he thought the trap door was.
    He had to climb one of the boxes, a task he did with ease, to reach the trap door on the stone roof. Wait he thought. Listen first. Bending his head awkwardly, he then pressed his ear against the wooden door un-hesitantly and tried to listen for anything outside of it.
    He supposed any other six year old child would have just opened the door without a second thought. But Swift wasn't any other six year old child, he was smart, very smart, and he knew it.
    He slowly opened the door and peeked though the slight gap between the stone and the door, the sudden light, although not very strong, temporarily blinded him after so many hours of darkness. His eyes adjusted to the light and seeing that there was nothing but a dimly lit, empty room above him, he fully opened the hatch.
    Once open he jumped up and grabbed the edge of the gap, pulling himself up into the room.
    The room was simple, having only a desk with a few papers on it and a feather pen, one door to his left side and no windows. If he recalled correctly he knew that this was the only room in the building, although, what it would be used for he had no idea.
    Swift walked over to the door and again pressed his ear against it. Again he heard nothing. Slowly opening the door he was stunned by the flood of sunlight that poured through. It seemed he had slept longer than he thought, or time had passed much faster than he had judged. He carefully stepped out of the door and into the day.


    When his eyes had adjusted to the sunlight, Swift took in his surroundings.
    It seemed he had been taken by his mother to the poorest section of the city, where the beggars and thieves lived. All around him was destruction and chaos. He observed that few of the poorly built buildings around him still stood untouched by the raiders. Several buildings were currently burning down and many more already burnt down. He realised how lucky he had been for the attackers to have missed the building he was in. The scent of the nearby slaughterhouses was foul and he figured that they too had been burnt, for it was not just the regular smell of raw meat and death he could smell, but burning flesh as well.
    The boy considered the likelihood that any raiders would still be in the area and deemed it unlikely. Regardless, he was still cautious as he began to creep around the streets of the poor quarter.
    Within ten minutes Swift began to trust that it would be safe to be slightly less cautious, and hence, traded caution for speed. He passed many buildings, most of which burning, and thought he would have to travel to a different section of the city to find any signs of life.
    He turned north at an intersection and began to head for the main keep, sticking to the side streets to avoid being spotted.
    After a quarter of an hour or so he began to feel a need for caution again and began to slow down. He felt, no, he knew, he was being watched. He did not now how, but an undeniable feeling passed over him and somehow he knew. It was a similar sensation to goose bumps but only far more intense. He knew with every fibre of his being that he was not alone.
    He slowed to a stop and looked nervously around.
    But just because he couldn't see anyone it didn't mean they weren't there.
    He turned around and took a step forward. That was when he noticed the man in front of him.
    'Ye lost, boy?' he asked all of a sudden.
    Swift was stunned. He knew someone was around but to have the man standing directly in front of him in an instant put the boy in disbelief. '' he stuttered.
    'Not safe to be out and about at the moment, kid, don't ye know we just been raided?' he replied. 'Of course ye do eh? Ye'd have to be living in the sewers to not know that,' he chuckled for some reason.
    'I... I've been... h....h..' Swift forced himself to stop a moment and calm himself, finally he spoke again. 'I've been hiding in a warehouse since the raid began. My mother took me there and told me to be quiet. She didn't return after the night so I came lookin' for someone,' he quickly told the man, if he was even a man at all. He only seemed about sixteen years old, so he wasn't much more than a boy himself.
    'Well, we can't really be havin' ye wonder around the city with the raiders still around, ye only look around seven.'
    'Six,' he interrupted.
    'Well, me name's Clyde. Ye might as well come along with me. Who knows, ye might even make a fine thief yourself one day. What's ya name boy?
    'Aye, fitting name for someone in me type of work,' he replied. 'Come along now, Swift.'
    Swift followed Clyde southward as he thought about his mother, and wondered if somehow she still lived. He then thought of Talon, his best friend, and wondered if he had survived the raid.
    “And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live.”
    ― Stephen King, The Dark Tower

    “ 'A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies,' said Jojen. 'The man who never reads lives only one.' ”
    ― George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
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