Sorry!

Hey, everyone....or just Gray!

Sorry I haven't posted anything new for a while, I've just been mad busy with my other story. I'm so close to the end! It's ridiculous! After New Year's I'll have some new stuff. I swear.

Thanks for understanding.

Love!

Nick

Robert's Beginning

Robert’s Beginning
Robert sighed deeply as he sat in the front seat. Vicente, beside him, sipped on a steaming cup of coffee and smacked his lips at the delicious taste. Robert ignored him. His face pressed against the cold glass of the foggy window and he gazed off into the shadows of the quiet night. The dark silence of the moment became too much for Vicente. He placed his coffee in the cup holder and turned to reach for his guitar. Robert grabbed his arm.
"Not right now," he said, gruffly.
"Pero-"
"No." he interrupted firmly. Vicente displayed a look of disappointment but resigned and left his instrument behind him. A tear slid silently down Robert's rugged face, maneuvering between the hairs of his mostly gray beard.
"Why?" he asked to no one in particular. "Why did I ever get myself into this business?” He paused. “…Or was it simply meant to be?” He closed his eyes and imagined himself back in the past. The years lifted and he found himself back in his young years.

A four-year-old Robert sat in the middle of a well-furnished living room, in a small cottage just outside London. The house was nothing grand, but it was very comfortable for his small family, consisting of just himself and his parents. Behind him, a roaring fire lit the room and sent a warm comfort throughout the house. Above the fireplace, a sword hung just over the mantle. Its still sharp blade reflected the light of the flames beautifully onto ceiling. In his hand, Robert held a wooden train, which he used to transport the imaginary passengers inside across the vast carpet that obstructed their way from the love seat to his father's comfortable armchair. His father, a man with a narrow face donning a pair of round spectacles sat in the large chair with a worried look on his face as he combed the headlines for news about the goings on across the channel.
"Hitler's moved into the Rhineland" he said, mournfully over the top of the paper.
"Oh dear. I knew that man was up to no good.” said a woman sitting on the love seat with a book in her lap. She glanced at the boy playing with his train and smiled. Her gaze then fell upon the clock, which told her it was almost a quarter to midnight.
"My goodness!" she exclaimed closing the book quickly. "It's time for you to be in bed, little one!" she said standing up and moving toward little Robert. He pulled away from her in protest.
"But I'm not tired, mommy!" said the boy. She picked him up and holding him on her hip, walked up the stairs to his bedroom. She changed him into his pajamas and laid him into his warm bed, glancing at the clock every time she could. Her looks grew more and more worrisome as the minute hand crept closer to the twelve, though she masked it for a smile. Smiling, she pulled the covers up to the boy’s chin. She kissed him on the forehead and moved to the door.
"Tell me a story?" the boy pleaded.
"But it's late, and you need your rest, young man," the woman said, glancing at the clock again. There remained ten minutes until the nightly noontime.
"Please?" begged Robert again.
"Oh, all right," said his mother, giving in to his demands. "Once upon a time, there was a little prince.” She began. “And this little prince was very-"
"Tell me the one about the Knights," said Robert sweetly.
"But you've heard that one so many times already," said his mother kissing his forehead. She put her hand on his warm little cheek. "Doesn't it ever bore you?” Robert shook his head back and forth, smiling broadly. His mother returned the smile. "Alright," she said. She gave the clock another quick look. Nine minutes. "Once upon a time, there was a great Order of Knights, called the Templars. They were the mightiest knights in all the world. They were so loyal and brave in combat that many other knights wished that they could be just like them. Then, one day, the jealous king of France decided that he did not like these knights and he ordered them all to be arrested. From Paris to Istanbul, the knights were all rounded up and tortured until they untruthfully confessed to heresy and betrayal of the crown. They were killed for their crimes against the king. But there were some who escaped. About a dozen of these knights managed to slip through the nets of the king and disappeared into hiding. They agreed to return to the Holy Land to reclaim the magic book their master had left for them. They then studied the magic book and secretly began to grow more powerful, hidden from the king. Then...” Robert's eyes had closed tightly and he breathed deeply beneath his warm blankets. His mother smiled.
"Sweet dreams, my little knight," she said and placed another soft kiss upon his forehead. She then threw her eyes at the clock one more time. Three minutes. She stood up and moved toward the door, carefully stepping over the squeaky floorboard. She slipped through the door and moved as swiftly as she could through the corridor and down the stairs. Her husband stood at the front door, looking anxiously through the small square windows.
"Are they here yet, George?" she asked quietly.
"No, Edith, Matthias said they would be here at midnight." he replied.
"Well they better get here quick. They've only got two minutes.” She took a small golden crucifix hanging from her neck and kissed it.
"They'll be here.” said George. "He's never been late before," The grandfather clock in the living room began to chime, signaling the dark noon's arrival. A series of headlights came into view in the distance. George exhaled deeply and removed his face from the window. Edith held her hand to her heart.
"Thank God," she said, but perhaps too soon.

Outside, the sound of screeching tires decimated the peace and quiet of the misty night air. A caravan of three cars sped up the country road, turning sharply around each curve and sliding a bit on the unpaved surface. The thundering tires kicked a cloud of dust into the air. Behind them, a dark shape pursued hidden by the shadows. The driver and the passengers dared not look back. Loading rifles and pistols and a few other more powerful weapons, the men in the car watched apprehensively through the back window as the black shroud followed. The cars veered around the corner and pulled over onto the side of the small street. The men made the final preparations and quickly filed out of the cars. When they put their hard-soled shoes on the ground and stepped out onto the street, a long, straight bladed sword fell to rest at their waist. They set up a perimeter around the house and watched the skies with keen eyes. From the middle car, a man older than the others, stepped out of the car and walked up the stone path to the house. He carried no gun, but bore a very ornate sword, which hung from his belt in plain sight.

George opened the door and the man entered. He removed a rather large crucifix from around his neck- one of many- and hung it on the doorknob.
"Welcome, Matthias," George said, beckoning him into the living room. Edith entered with a tray of tea and biscuits.
"We have no time for this," said Matthias, sternly. He pulled back his hood, revealing a large gash that stretched from his temple to his chin. Edith dropped the tray at the sight of the wound. It smashed on the floor as the porcelain teacups and saucers shattered. She gasped and put her hand to her heart.
"I'll fetch you a bandage for that!" she said and disappeared into the kitchen.
"No!" said, Matthias. "There’s no time! Where is your son?" he demanded.
"He's in bed," said George.
"Well, get him up. This house is no longer safe.” Matthias stole a glance through the windows. Nothing stirred outside, save for his men patrolling the area. A few neighbors had come out to see what the ruckus was all about, but they were herded back into their homes. Edith returned with a bandage and some iodine. She tried to dress the wound, but he slapped her hand away. The iodine fell to the floor and spilled out onto the floor.
"We have no time for that! Get your son and meet me at the cars in thirty seconds. What we precede is more terrifying than anything you have ever imagined. And George..." he turned to the mantle and gestured to the sword. "You'll be needing that.” Edith ran up the stairs, and crept into Robert's bedroom. She picked him up carefully, wrapping him in the blankets to shield him from the cold. He stirred, but did not wake. She came down the stairs and found George strapping a scabbard to his belt. He took the sword down from the mantle and thrust it inside. He looked to Matthias and nodded.
"Let's go," ordered Matthias. He took the cross from the door and walked out into the twilight air. There were hardly any clouds in the sky and the full moon shone brightly on the terrain. A man at the front car opened the passenger door.
"Get in." ordered Matthias. Edith had placed Robert’s cocoon on the leather seat put her first foot in, when a large shadow passed over the car. Everyone turned their eyes to the sky, but the source of the dark silhouette had disappeared. The sounds of guns being cocked and loaded came from all around the house. The men came from the back yard to form a circle around the cars. The trees behind the house shook vehemently for a moment, but then stopped. No one moved. Everyone held their breath. Matthias looked to the line of trees for a moment.
“Get in the car." he ordered again, more firmly. He drew a pistol from inside his cloak and pulled back on the top, moving a round into the chamber. Edith quickly climbed into the car with George close behind. He closed the door when they were inside and joined the others in the circle. The others kept their eyes on the trees. Another shadow passed over and they shifted their gaze toward the source. Hoping their vision betrayed them, they stared in awe as a mighty winged beast came to roost in the field opposite the line of trees. Clenched in its unholy grip, a huge scimitar, crafted in the fires of Hell, waited patiently to do its wicked work.
"Neville, get them out of here!" shouted Matthias. The engine roared to life under the hood of the car and it began to move. The men opened fire on the creature. The beast stepped forward with great bounds that rattled the earth with each footfall.
"NO! Not without my husband!” cried Edith inside the car. Robert stirred back into consciousness.
"What's going on mommy?" he asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
"Just stay down, my darling, stay down!” Robert hid within his cluster of blankets while he combat outside the car escalated. The first demon exploded from the tree line and landed behind the house. Drawing a sword of his own decimated one of the neighboring houses with a single stroke, severing the attic from the second floor. Screams issued from inside, but the second stroke silenced them. The beast roared and advanced on the cars. The first car had turned the corner and begun to move away back to a safe location. The beast in the field turned to follow. A staccato of gunfire was set loose on the beast. Men with automatic rifles unloaded entire magazines at the creature, but appeared to have little effect. When they ran out of ammunition, they cast away their guns and drew their swords. They charged across the dirt road and entered the field, ready to engage the beast head on. The first beast walked through the house, spreading the flames from the fireplace to the rest of the house. George sprinted across the field trying to get to his wife and son. His blade gleamed in the moonlight.
"Oy! You!" he cried, trying to halt the beast. He picked up a large clod of dirt and hurled it at the arcane terror. His ploy proved successful. The beast halted and rounded on him. It growled softly and lumbered toward him. A few men with spare rounds arrived at his side. They fired at the beast's face, causing it to roar in pain and shield itself with its arm. The beast swung at the men with its large sword. All but two of them ducked. The equivalent of one of them flew across the field while what would have amassed to the other remained. The men spread out, encircling the beast. It roared and brought its blade down hard on the men, trying to break them, but their speed was greater than that of the blade. One man produced a grenade from his pocket. He put it to his mouth and ripped the pin out with his teeth. He hurled the device at the beast and it detonated near the base of its wings. A gaping wound shone proudly on the beast's back near its shoulder. It staggered a bit and dropped its blade in the grass.
"Give me your gun!” George called to a nearby man. The man tossed him his rifle. George sheathed his sword and ran toward the stunned monster. He leaped onto its back and scaled the charred and bloody remains of a wing and stood with one food on either side of the base of its grotesque neck. He fired several rounds into the beast's head. Reaching for him, the demon grasped around its head, but could not find him. It stumbled and fell. George leapt from the creature’s shoulders before it hit the ground and landed softly in the grass, beside a scorched piece of bony plate. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. The men cheered and patted him on the back. He smiled until the sound of screeching tires and a thunderous roar shook him from his bliss. He turned to see the second terror chasing after the car. It swerved around the corner and headed up the dark and dusty road. He could hear Edith screaming and his heart jolted into a rapid beat. The others were having the same problem he had. They fired what was left in their guns, but the beast seemed invulnerable. With one stroke of its sword, it laid waste to the men before it. Matthias parried the blade with his own and leaped onto its arm. He ran up to its shoulder and lifted his blade high over the head. He made his attempt at the kill, but one of the large hands took hold of him and flung him away toward George. He crashed to the ground and rolled several feet before coming to a stop. George ran to him and tried to help him, but he pushed him away.
"I'm fine!" he said, gruffly and pushed himself back up. "Go and see to your family!” Another swing of the demon's sword left only three men to stand by Matthias. George ran off after the car containing his beloved wife and son. With a thunderous roar, the beast took to the sky and sailed over George's head. It came down in front of the car. The breaks screeched and the car swerved to a stop at the monster's feet. Neville threw the car into reverse and drove his foot down on the gas pedal, but the sword came again, severing the engine from the wheels. The car moved back, aloof but stopped only a few feet away, a helpless victim now, along with its occupants. Neville leapt out of the car, wielding a pair of automatic rifles. He unleashed a barrage of ammunition into its arcane figure. George and Matthias arrived just in time to see the drivers entrails become extrails as the demon grabbed him and thrust him into its jaws. It tossed what remained of the mangled corpse into the bushes and ripped the roof of the car. Edith screamed and shielded herself from the mighty claws prying at her. Robert cried out in fear as his mother was dragged away into the monster's clutches.
"Mother!" he cried weakly. The monster held her in its talons as George ran forward.
"Edith!" he called, hoping against all other hopes that the creature would spare her. In pure spite and wickedness beyond any mortal comprehension, the beast tore into her breast ripping her heart out with its apathetic teeth. George halted, and fell to his knees. "NOOO!!!" he cried into the night air. Tears welled in his eyes. The demon turned on him. He tore off his glasses and brushed away the pain with his sleeve. He forced himself to his feet and charged.
"George wait!" called Matthias. "You can't take him on your own!” His words went unheard. George ran at the beast, practically strangling his sword. The monster lunged at him. He dodged the blade and continued on the war path. He darted between the beast’s legs. The beast roared and turned around, swinging the blade carelessly. The blade felled a large oak tree, but George remained illusive. Robert opened the box under the back seat bench and climbed into it. George leapt from the fallen branches and assailed the demon again. He leapt onto its leg and climbed up its back. He thrust the blade into its neck. The beast roared again, in pain, and its eyes flared a hellish red. It released an explosion from its mouth, a blast that sent George hurtling over the ground. He came down hard on the road, and screamed as the sound of bone cracking splintered the night air. He searched for his sword, but it was gone from him. The beast moved toward him. Matthias charged it, but was swept aside with a mighty fist. George fired a round into the bony chest of the beast. It made no progress in destroying the blackened heart. He continued firing as the beast raised its sword over him. With one last hope, he fired at the beast’s forehead, but to no avail.
"ROBERT!" he called out into the night. The blade came down on him severing his cry and his body. He fell limp as the large blade was drawn away. Clenching his teeth in fury, Matthias raised his sword over his head and drove it into the middle of the street. He crossed himself with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost and uttered a few words in Latin. The sword began to glow white in the darkness, shining like the moon above. He tore it from the ground and hurled it at the beast. The horrid creature parried unsuccessfully. The blade sunk into its shoulder, leaving a deep gash. The demon roared and looked at the wound. It wrapped its clawed hand around the blade and tore it out. It spread its wings and leapt into the sky, disappearing among the stars. Breathing heavily, Matthias approached the car. He peered inside and his spirits fell as he saw nothing but bloodied body parts in the back seat. Then, his eye caught the blankets dangling from the compartment under the seat. He opened the box and the boy rolled out, bumping into the seat in front of him.
"Is the monster gone?" he asked, timidly, peeking through a gap in the blankets.
"Yes," said Matthias, holding back tears, despite the smile creasing his cheeks. He took the boy from the compartment and stood him on his feet. Robert looked around at the wrecked cars and bodies, searching for a pair of familiar faces.
"Where are my parents?" he asked.
"They've gone," said Matthias, mournfully. "You and I are all that is left.” A tear ran down his cheek as he caught a glimpse of the carnage that had given life to the boy.
"Where'd they go?" asked Robert, unaware that he was now an orphan.
"They had to leave," said Matthias. Robert ran over to his mother’s mangled corpse and hugged her tightly. He began to weep, mingling his own tears with her blood. Matthias picked up his sword and slid it into the sheath on his belt.
"You will have your revenge," he said, resting his hand on the boy’s back. “I promise you that.” He walked back to the last car remaining of the three and started the engine. He put it in gear and drove down the dirt road, disappearing into the shadows of the surrounding trees.

“Hey, man…are you okay?” asked Vicente, noticing his blank stare,” Robert, wiped the tear from his eye. And shook himself back into the present.
"I’m fine.” He said, stiffly. “Let's go get a newspaper," he said. He put the car into gear and drove quickly down the lane.

William's Beginning

"So what made them so interested in you?" asked (Ned) with a tone suggesting a snide remark buried in the innocence of the question.
"Well," began William, with a fiery tone in retaliation. "It was almost two years ago," (Ned) listened as William's story unfolded.

A fourteen-year-old William sat on his white and green striped couch moving in all sorts of odd directions as he maneuvered a man on the large screen in front of him. Carnage unfolded as he found more powerful weapons with each turn around a bloody corner. His hands quaked as the controller in his hand let loose a salvo of rockets at the oncoming alien force.
"Will!" called a woman's voice from the kitchen, "Have you taken care of the laundry?” Will ignored the voice and climbed into a large tank and began unleashing Hell against a fleet of alien war ships. With every shot, he inched closer to his goal. The voice came again, but he continued to ignore it. His campaign persisted. The voice came again, futilely. Finally, the woman came around the corner and stood in the doorway.
"William! Have you done the laundry yet?" she demanded, wiping her hands with a towel.
"No, mom, I haven't." said Will, firmly. He contorted his body trying to dodge the enemy fire on the screen, though it had no effect on the armed gunman on screen. His mother rolled her eyes and let loose a frustrated sigh. She walked to the large television screen and turned it off. Making sure to pause his game, though he could not see it, William protested. "I was almost at the end of the level!" he complained.
"I don't want you to touch that game again until you have taken care of the laundry! And is your homework done!” His mother was ruthless. He reached for the remote, but she moved too quickly for him. He glared at her and stood up.
"Fine," he said, stabbing her with his words. "I'll do it.” He stomped through the hallway and opened the door to the laundry room. A basket full of t-shirts, complete with their witty and obnoxious quotes, ripped jeans and cargo pants, ankle socks, and boxers with inappropriate insignias on them lay before his feet.
"Don't forget to separate the lights and darks!" his mother called, now back in the kitchen.
"I won't!" he fired back. He tore through the basket throwing the light colored garments into the machine and putting the dark ones off to the side for the next load, all the while cursing his mother. Fury and frustration slowly grew in his heart as he segregated the last of the shirts and threw some soap into the machine. He slammed the door shut and turned the dial to begin the wash cycle. Nothing happened. He waited for a moment, hoping it was just a delay but the machine remained inactive. He punched it, vainly trying to force it into submission. He checked to make sure it was plugged it, which it was. He stood up and ran his hand through his hair, sighing heatedly; he turned the dial again, but to no avail.
"Mom, the washing machine won't turn on!" he called.
"Did you turn the knob?" returned the voice.
"Yes!" he responded, rolling his eyes.
"Did you press the button with the key on it?” With a little bit of hope, William pushed the little button below the symbol of a key to turn on the machine, but it remained quiet and motionless.
"Yes!" he said, losing his hope.
"Well, I just got that machine last week. It better work! You're smart! Figure it out!” William stood in front of the stubborn machine, contemplating how to make it work. He glared at the kitchen and uttered curses under his breath. In a burst of fury, he kicked the machine, hoping to shock it into functionality. It remained immovable.
"I heard that!" his mother called from the kitchen. William leaned on the machine, trying to calm himself and suppress his anger. He longed to go back to his campaign against the evil Covenant. Unable to think of anything else to do, he unplugged the machine and then plugged it back in. He put in a few more drops of detergent, turned the knob, and pressed the appropriate button. The machine stirred and he could see through the round glass window that it had begun to move its gizmos to get the stains from the clothes inside. William sighed in relief. He began to walk away, when he heard the machine stop. He turned around to look at it, and then slowly crept back toward it hoping not to invade its personal space, and enrage it somehow. Just then, the door swung open and soapy water and clothing poured out onto the floor, soaking the wooden planks and the Persian rug covering some of them. Furious, William stomped to the machine and began thrusting the clothes back into the machine. When he got them back in, he slammed the door closed again and turned the machine back on. It remained still. William's blood began to boil. He clenched his teeth and his fist.
"GOD DAMMIT!" he shouted, vengefully, and he punched the machine. It flew backward through the wall, knocking over the table behind it, then destroyed the couch he'd been sitting on earlier, went through the bathroom, cracking the bathtub and into the middle of the street, nearly hitting a yellow taxi which swerved into a fire hydrant to avoid it. William stood in shock with his jaw at his knees while he watched what happened next. The sky outside quickly grew dark. A rumble of thunder began to steadily grow louder. A bolt of lightning struck the insolent machine as it sat in the middle of the lane. It was followed by another, and then another, and several more until it became blackened and smoke rose from its charred wiring. William walked slowly through the wreckage of his house and out through the bathroom and onto the sidewalk. He stepped toward the machine and looked to the sky. The clouds began to dissipate. His mother stormed out of the front door.
"I have had it with you and your anger" she began, but trailed off when she was the incinerated washing machine. She looked at it for a moment and then looked back at William. Her expression became angrier. "This is coming out of your allowance," she said, and she marched back into the house. William, stunned, looked at the machine with disbelief. It moved, and he jumped behind a car hoping it would shield him from whatever came next. The door swung open and several of his shirts spilled out into the road in a stream of soapy water.

First post!

Greetings world!

As you all know- and if you don't, you will by the end of this sentence- I like to write. A lot! In fact, I like to write so much, you could call it a hobby if you want to! I write all kinds of things, from English and History papers to the ancient texts of the Order of Paladins founded by the great Palah al Din in the early years of this world.

It's all pretty crazy, and it's all swimming around in my head. So! I'm getting most of it out! None of these things will make much sense, because they're out of context. Mostly they're just going to be random bits of creativity that I feel like throwing at you. I hope you like them!

Also...Gray suggested I start this blog...so give him a hug or something. =D

PEACE, I'M OUTTA HERE!

~Nick