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Juiceisgood
Well kids, it's that time of year again. The rules are simple, write a suitable continuation to the previous part of the story, and indicate which bit of you post is part of the story and which is off topic. Also, cut and paste the story so far in your post, it doesn't have to be in a quote box, but it should be there for ease of reading.

Firstly, it is possible that the below posts will contain coarse language, or not, I don't know what other people will post...

I'll start...


*********

It had been a long night, it was bitingly cold out and the sun hadn't come up yet. I looked out along the valley, the full moon was enough light to see, although not to pick up any details. The grass ran as far as the eye could see in all directions.

*********

Well, that's not much, but it's enough to get you creative people thinking, so write!
Dedbutdrmng
It had been a long night, it was bitingly cold out and the sun hadn't come up yet. I looked out along the valley, the full moon was enough light to see, although not to pick up any details. The grass ran as far as the eye could see in all directions.


The bottle of whisky in the corner had been there for three days but he'd not touched a drop, unusual for him. As a rule he'd have finished the thing within a couple of hours. But since the light had stopped things had changed, four days ago had it been? Maybe more, probably more considering the drunken stupor he'd woken out of, then all the time he'd thought the alcohol had fucked up his senses so much time was stretching itself.

But there was no denying it anymore, the sun had gone.

Or not gone, he still expected it to breach the grass of the skyline and surely the moon couldn't shine without the sun? Hadn't he learnt that in school way back when?

He sat back on the bed and smelt her fragrance on the pillow, the sun had gone, it had.


RJ
Juiceisgood
[OT]Going into third person now are we? biggrin.gif[/OT]



How could this happen? Why?

All these things kept tumbling around in his head. No time to think, no time at all.

Wenner had all the time in the world now, but it seemed to slip out of his hand, was he grasping it too tightly?

He had no time to answer this, there was a deafening roar all around him, the wood walls of his small house shook violently, the windows rattled like the chattering teeth in his own head, books fell from the shelf and onto the floor. Wenner let out a silent scream as his whole world fell apart.

Calm decended, Wenner did not make a move to tidy up his belongs that now laid strewn around his house. He sat still and fidgeted with a bottle cap in his palm, then threw in across the room where it bounced off a wall and came to a stop on the rough, unvarnished floorboards.
spuglet
The earth shook in sympathy as his world fell apart around him.
He supposed he should have seen it coming. Looking back in retrospect, the signs were there obvious for all to see.
Now, the aftermath, and there was noone there. Noone to help him make sense of all that had happened, noone to talk sense into him, noone to scream at him to stop when he headed towards to whiskey again. He knew the screaming had stopped a long time ago, but it only struck him now.
He saw her image beside him and heard her voice. He turned away from the vile liquid in the corner and faced the window again.
The moon was low enough to let a few stars shine through. In the sky he saw a shooting star. It looked pathetic, alone, feeble. But it was there, and he made his wish.


Mary....
Juiceisgood
Wenner smashed the few items still left on the table onto the ground with a broad sweep of his arm. In a rage, he knocked the whisky to the floor. Screaming, howling at his own oblivion, he fell to his knees.

-Mary!

There he remained on the ground sobbing, clawing at the whisky covered floor. He looked back up to the sky, the tears welling up again in his eyes. Wenner bit back against the waves of anguish, but it was a battle he could not win. His hands shook with torment, fear, longing, unsteadied by a few good drinks that he would have normally helped himself to. His eyes felt hot, closed tightly now to fight back against the spasms of tears.
Hyperion
QUOTE
How could this happen? Why?

All these things kept tumbling around in his head. No time to think, no time at all.

Wenner had all the time in the world now, but it seemed to slip out of his hand, was he grasping it too tightly?

He had no time to answer this, there was a deafening roar all around him, the wood walls of his small house shook violently, the windows rattled like the chattering teeth in his own head, books fell from the shelf and onto the floor. Wenner let out a silent scream as his whole world fell apart.

Calm decended, Wenner did not make a move to tidy up his belongs that now laid strewn around his house. He sat still and fidgeted with a bottle cap in his palm, then threw in across the room where it bounced off a wall and came to a stop on the rough, unvarnished floorboards.

The earth shook in sympathy as his world fell apart around him.

He supposed he should have seen it coming. Looking back in retrospect, the signs were there obvious for all to see.

Now, the aftermath, and there was noone there. Noone to help him make sense of all that had happened, noone to talk sense into him, noone to scream at him to stop when he headed towards to whiskey again. He knew the screaming had stopped a long time ago, but it only struck him now.

He saw her image beside him and heard her voice. He turned away from the vile liquid in the corner and faced the window again.

The moon was low enough to let a few stars shine through. In the sky he saw a shooting star. It looked pathetic, alone, feeble. But it was there, and he made his wish.

Mary....


Wenner smashed the few items still left on the table onto the ground with a broad sweep of his arm. In a rage, he knocked the whisky to the floor. Screaming, howling at his own oblivion, he fell to his knees.

"Mary!"

There he remained on the ground sobbing, clawing at the whisky covered floor. He looked back up to the sky, the tears welling up again in his eyes. Wenner bit back against the waves of anguish, but it was a battle he could not win. His hands shook with torment, fear, longing, unsteadied by a few good drinks that he would have normally helped himself to. His eyes felt hot, closed tightly now to fight back against the spasms of tears.


She had been gone for minutes, hours, days, days stretching into months, and finally, a single long year.

Pitiful, wasn't he? Alone, here, in this halfhearted structure that hardly passed for a house, surrounded by meaningless bits of furniture and paper, and that burning, acidic, and beautifully numbing fluid that had been his companion ever since she'd stepped out that door, hat in hand and pity in her eyes. He had never been good enough for her, that was obvious, but he had known it all along. Should have known, should have realized, when it had always been lurking in a drugged subconsious.

A sorrowful little whimper, and a single shaft of light fell from the ceiling onto the floor, glinting off the emptied bottle and into the deep jade eye of a man suddenly in his home. He'd just materialized. Wenner could not remember hearing the door open with it's familiar creak.

"You're pitiful, Wenner. Get up."

The power of the voice, the sheer assured tone of this tall stranger was enough to get him onto unsteady feet, knees trembling in something almost akin to... fear?

The man was leaning against a wall, his coat brushing the floor, catlike depths cast directly on Wenner. Suddenly he felt dirty, cheeks dusted with the stubble of three days abed, clothing wrinkled and unwashed. This man seemed somehow pristine, in his element, casting a glow to his surroundings that emphasized the squalor of Wenner's home.

"It's time."
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