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Jun. 25th, 2006 06:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themadpoker:) I have a chronic inability to take myself seriously. When writing anyways. :3 Oh well. Writer's Club needs to lighten up anyways.
Writer's Club Collaborative Short Story
Escorted by his bodyguards, Abu Musab al-Zarqawi entered the council hall. Despite his calm exterior and the surprising lack of emotion on his face, he was fighting an inner war of unimaginable proportions. A sudden explosion rocked the earthen halls, and Abu decided that life was more important than honour. With a quick glance, he spun around and dashed towards the exit, leaving his bodyguards behind among the dust and debris.
He jumped into his Porsche 911 GT1, snapping open his cellphone, "What the hell did you just do?"
"I don't know what you are talking about," a female voice on the other end said.
Abu rolled his eyes knowing that his partner, Egwene Goldstein, knew
exactly what he meant. "So you're saying you have nothing to do with
the bomb GANGSTER planted in the building?" he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
"Well you didn't expect me to just sit here with a mountain of
explosives in front of me and not do anything with them did you?" she asked, as though it was the most outrageous possibility in the world.
"Well, it doesn't matter anymore," replied Abu, "because I'm done
with GANGSTER. I'm out of your life, and out of Jonah's little band of hooligans. Never contact me again. And your shoes are ugly."
"My shoes are gorgeous, thank you very much," the woman huffed, before gaining a cool and collective tone that sent shivers down Abu's spine, "You want to leave GANGSTER? Well, I'd like to see you try. We don't like quitters around here," and with that note, the phone went dead.
Without the slightest idea as to what to do next, Abu leaned back in
his seat, his mind a canvas of abstract thoughts clashing with
emotions. His thought patterns were spiralling down in to oblivion, and had the phone not rung when it did, he may have sat there for the remainder of the evening clutching his steering wheel.
His mind remained a conflicting jumble of thoughts as he drove through the desert, his Porsche coughing out dry clouds of tan dust, mocking the parched sands. Abu did not question why someone - and he highly doubted that it was Jonah or GANGSTER - wanted to kill him. Indeed, the answer to that was as obvious as the man-wrought drought that surrounded him; the negotiations he had been about to conduct could have altered the entire war in Iraq. Even while dodging sand dunes, he could mentally conjure up the names of at least fifty individuals or organisations to whom the discontinuation of the war would be harmful.
A sudden thought burst into his head, why did they want to kill him?
After all he had just tried to earn a living for his family. He knew
that they wanted to kill him, but why? what had he ever done to them? Abu sighed, his hand drew out, from his pocket, a photograph of his wife and children. Why on earth had he gotten involved in this whole thing anyway?
His thoughts hit a halt as another explosion rocked the dunes on which he drove. At a speed of 130 miles per hour it wasn't going to be easy. The car skid, spinning as it tried to halt from falling into the giant ditch in front of it. Abu clutched the steering wheel, trying to gain control and finally he did.
The Porsche stopped right at the edge of oblivion, tipping over the
edge of the massive crater that loomed before him.
It seemed that the fight for his life and already begun.
As he sat pondering the extreme seriousness and life-threatening
situations that seemed to plaguing his life, a small blue fairy popped up in front of his nose. Being a sensible adult man (albeit one who had an interest in magical creatures in his childhood) he immediately concluded he must be hallucinating, and made a mental note to add hallucinations to his list of reasons why his life ultimately sucked. Unfortunately, this fairy in particular did not appreciate being ignored, and took it upon her head to pull on his nose as revenge. To his great surprise, it hurt.
;) I'm sure I'm going to have a great deal of fun reading whatever the next person writes.
Writer's Club Collaborative Short Story
Escorted by his bodyguards, Abu Musab al-Zarqawi entered the council hall. Despite his calm exterior and the surprising lack of emotion on his face, he was fighting an inner war of unimaginable proportions. A sudden explosion rocked the earthen halls, and Abu decided that life was more important than honour. With a quick glance, he spun around and dashed towards the exit, leaving his bodyguards behind among the dust and debris.
He jumped into his Porsche 911 GT1, snapping open his cellphone, "What the hell did you just do?"
"I don't know what you are talking about," a female voice on the other end said.
Abu rolled his eyes knowing that his partner, Egwene Goldstein, knew
exactly what he meant. "So you're saying you have nothing to do with
the bomb GANGSTER planted in the building?" he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
"Well you didn't expect me to just sit here with a mountain of
explosives in front of me and not do anything with them did you?" she asked, as though it was the most outrageous possibility in the world.
"Well, it doesn't matter anymore," replied Abu, "because I'm done
with GANGSTER. I'm out of your life, and out of Jonah's little band of hooligans. Never contact me again. And your shoes are ugly."
"My shoes are gorgeous, thank you very much," the woman huffed, before gaining a cool and collective tone that sent shivers down Abu's spine, "You want to leave GANGSTER? Well, I'd like to see you try. We don't like quitters around here," and with that note, the phone went dead.
Without the slightest idea as to what to do next, Abu leaned back in
his seat, his mind a canvas of abstract thoughts clashing with
emotions. His thought patterns were spiralling down in to oblivion, and had the phone not rung when it did, he may have sat there for the remainder of the evening clutching his steering wheel.
His mind remained a conflicting jumble of thoughts as he drove through the desert, his Porsche coughing out dry clouds of tan dust, mocking the parched sands. Abu did not question why someone - and he highly doubted that it was Jonah or GANGSTER - wanted to kill him. Indeed, the answer to that was as obvious as the man-wrought drought that surrounded him; the negotiations he had been about to conduct could have altered the entire war in Iraq. Even while dodging sand dunes, he could mentally conjure up the names of at least fifty individuals or organisations to whom the discontinuation of the war would be harmful.
A sudden thought burst into his head, why did they want to kill him?
After all he had just tried to earn a living for his family. He knew
that they wanted to kill him, but why? what had he ever done to them? Abu sighed, his hand drew out, from his pocket, a photograph of his wife and children. Why on earth had he gotten involved in this whole thing anyway?
His thoughts hit a halt as another explosion rocked the dunes on which he drove. At a speed of 130 miles per hour it wasn't going to be easy. The car skid, spinning as it tried to halt from falling into the giant ditch in front of it. Abu clutched the steering wheel, trying to gain control and finally he did.
The Porsche stopped right at the edge of oblivion, tipping over the
edge of the massive crater that loomed before him.
It seemed that the fight for his life and already begun.
As he sat pondering the extreme seriousness and life-threatening
situations that seemed to plaguing his life, a small blue fairy popped up in front of his nose. Being a sensible adult man (albeit one who had an interest in magical creatures in his childhood) he immediately concluded he must be hallucinating, and made a mental note to add hallucinations to his list of reasons why his life ultimately sucked. Unfortunately, this fairy in particular did not appreciate being ignored, and took it upon her head to pull on his nose as revenge. To his great surprise, it hurt.
;) I'm sure I'm going to have a great deal of fun reading whatever the next person writes.
