Sunday, March 22, 2009

next storie?

Next Storie? Well, maybe not. First I have to wrap some things up from the last story.

     EPILOGUE: twenty years later...
Brent's Diary, January 4th, 1965
     I have passed boot-camp along with Will, and am currently being shipped off to North Vietnam. We are in the 32nd unit of the Marine Corps. We are both looking forward to our first encounter with the enemy. Dad would be proud that I followed in his footsteps. I am still troubled by his death sometimes, late at night, as is William. We comfort each other all the time, and we hope that if we die in battle, we'll also die together, as our fathers did. I never forget how he died: He saved his entire platoon by distracting the entire oncoming force with nothing but the five shells in his magnum handgun, taking quite a few Germans with him. Will's dad also died in the Battle of the Bulge, by stealing a german biplane and crashing it into a unit of panthers, saving his entire platoon also.
I'm afraid it's almost time to go. I can feel the jungle heat, and it calls me. I hope I live to tell the tale to mum.

Epilogue is over now. Well, now, a new story, eh? What should it be about? Hmmm... a zombie apocalypse? Nah. ooh, I have an Idea! Yay, introduction to story!

The clock beeped.  Tim turned over. 2:30 am. it said in big red numbers. Hew couldn't sleep. He never could on nights like this. It was hot and humid outside, with a gray fog dimming the streetlights. There wasn't a sound at all. The moon was either a new moon or blocked by dark clouds. Then, he saw the lights. Cutting through the fog were red and blue lights, flashing rhythmically. There still wasn't a sound in the thick air.  It pulled up two his house, and the two police officers walked out. He heard the slam of doors, then footsteps. There was a knock on the door. Tim rolled out of bed and walked downstairs. He opened the door.
"Are you Tim Rills?" The taller police officer asked.
"Yes." Tim said. The fatter police officer pulled out a huge packet of papers.
"Your uncle Ray Blank has just died," he said. He must have seen the confused look on Tim's face. "Never heard of him? Well, he was a taxi driver in Canada. But here's the thing: He was found with five bullets in him in Hong Kong. This was found in his back pocket." he says, and hands Tim the packet of papers. Tim looked at it and read the title.

"The Life and Death of Ray Blank."

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