Post by christene on Sept 29, 2008 16:37:41 GMT -5
So, I think there are some grammatical issues, but it won me third place in a contest. It's one of my favorites. By the way, I'm aware that the last word is spelled wrong. It got censored out, even though it's not a bad word at all.
The Black Knight came on a dark, cold, rainy night.
I was tired. I had gone out to two movies and dinner with my friend for his birthday, and I had a small stamina for fun. I lived in a small house just on the outskirts of town, so it had taken some time to get back home from our night on the town. I was in my pajamas, teeth brushed, and under the covers.
I had caught him out of the corner of my eye. He was by my window, which was on the other side of the room. I sat up quickly. "How'd you get here?" I demanded. His quiet, beady black body did nothing to respond. I didn't expect him too.
I was lucky. I had thought of occurrences such as this before. I kept my weapon under my pillow. It made sleeping uncomfortable sometimes, but after that moment, I knew it was suddenly worth it.
I faced him. He faced me. We were at a stand still. "I don't want to hurt you," I said. "But I will if you touch anything. Just gently move out of the house."
He stared at me, silent and deadly. His black armor gleamed in the light. He didn't move. Neither did I.
Time ticked by so slowly. I heard my watch's ticking on my dresser. It seemed as if it ticked every minute as opposed to every second. My heart beat within my stomach, and it was so loud that I could swear that he heard it. If he did, he made no show of it. I almost wished he did something, rather than just sit there and stare at me with those eyes.
Those eyes were like nothing I'd seen before. They were completely black, making me shiver with disgust.
And then he moved. I watched. "Don't touch anything," I warned, my weapon on him, my hand shaky. He shifted toward a pile of books upon the floor. "Don't," I said again. But he got too close for comfort.
I fired.
He scrambled away from the books, wounded. He limped a little. His eyes were on me like daggers, but he couldn't do anything. I fired again. And again. I continued until he didn't move. I stared at the corpse, my body slowly recovering from the small adventure.
I hate cocroaches.
The Black Knight came on a dark, cold, rainy night.
I was tired. I had gone out to two movies and dinner with my friend for his birthday, and I had a small stamina for fun. I lived in a small house just on the outskirts of town, so it had taken some time to get back home from our night on the town. I was in my pajamas, teeth brushed, and under the covers.
I had caught him out of the corner of my eye. He was by my window, which was on the other side of the room. I sat up quickly. "How'd you get here?" I demanded. His quiet, beady black body did nothing to respond. I didn't expect him too.
I was lucky. I had thought of occurrences such as this before. I kept my weapon under my pillow. It made sleeping uncomfortable sometimes, but after that moment, I knew it was suddenly worth it.
I faced him. He faced me. We were at a stand still. "I don't want to hurt you," I said. "But I will if you touch anything. Just gently move out of the house."
He stared at me, silent and deadly. His black armor gleamed in the light. He didn't move. Neither did I.
Time ticked by so slowly. I heard my watch's ticking on my dresser. It seemed as if it ticked every minute as opposed to every second. My heart beat within my stomach, and it was so loud that I could swear that he heard it. If he did, he made no show of it. I almost wished he did something, rather than just sit there and stare at me with those eyes.
Those eyes were like nothing I'd seen before. They were completely black, making me shiver with disgust.
And then he moved. I watched. "Don't touch anything," I warned, my weapon on him, my hand shaky. He shifted toward a pile of books upon the floor. "Don't," I said again. But he got too close for comfort.
I fired.
He scrambled away from the books, wounded. He limped a little. His eyes were on me like daggers, but he couldn't do anything. I fired again. And again. I continued until he didn't move. I stared at the corpse, my body slowly recovering from the small adventure.
I hate cocroaches.