PDA

View Full Version : Prisoner



AA_BATTERY
10-14-2010, 05:30 AM
http://www.1001freefonts.com/image.php?text=Prisoner&font=BostonTraffic
Guards strolled down the narrow corridor. Arms waved out of bars, and calls for freedom echoed down the multi-floor block of cells. The building smelled like a herd of dead rotting sheep, and the grey, gloomy walls seemed to close in on the prisoners.
The squeaky wheels of a rusty trolley turned the prisoners into a pack of wailing, hungry wolves. “Foooood!!!!” they howled. But one prisoner sat still. Food was tossed all over the concrete floor, and some smelled as though it had been there an awfully long time. Another tray joined the pile as it slid over the floor to the back of the cell. The guard muttered something in Kurdish and moved to the next cell.
At the back corner of the cell, a figure flinched. His deep grey eyes darted, as though he was surrounded. He crept to the tray, now exposed in the dim light. His skinny fingers fiddled around the plate, until he found his prize. A rusty knife and fork. They would of been plastic, but the guards had given up wasting the compulsory plastic on him. They just used the old cutlery from the days before plastic.
He quickly retreated back to his corner, a slight gleam in his stormy eyes.
Rusty wheels clattered on their way to the galley. As he walked past the skinny mans cell, he saw something that shocked him. He mumbled something in his walkie-talkie, the only words in understandable in the conversation were the words “Greg Mortom”.
Now clearly visible, Greg was creepily skinny. His gleaming head was bald, and light grey stubble covered his chin. His orange and black striped prison clothes were ratty, and he had a slight slump. At around 6 feet he was taller than the short guard. A smile crept up his face, and he jutted his hand forward, stabbing him in the neck.
The guard spluttered, a fork protruding from his windpipe. His eyes wide, he fell to the floor in a puddle of blood. Greg swiftly swiped the guards keys, and quickly opened the door. The door creaked as Greg slipped out. Greg casually navigated the suspended walkway. An office sat above the door. Inside a pale figure stared out some venetian blinds, and calmly ordered some commands in Kurdish over a microphone. “Greg Mortom”s name seemed to darken the situation. Fear struck the guards. They knew who this man was, and his escape was not good.
The mighty steel doors inched open as a platoon of guards marched in. They whispered to each other and moved forward in search of Greg Mortom. They searched like dogs after a duck and showed renewed persistence from the fear which previously humanised them. Greg gingerly snuck along the side of a wall. He fumbled in his pockets and bought out six knives. He slid them between his knuckles and clenched his fist. His plan was coming together.
About a dozen guards marched in search of the mysterious escapee. One muttered, probably something along the lines of “I don’t like this....” Meanwhile, Greg hid in the shadows, stalking the group like a leopard. He pounced. The back row of guards dropped their battens in surprise as Greg’s set of knives came down on them. The front row barely knew what hit them. But one managed to a quick situation report before six knives brutally pierced his back.
In the office above the entrance, a figure stirred. He had a thin black moustache, a pale complexion and combed-over black hair. His broad chin seemed as if it was pouting, and his forehead was stuck in a permanent scowl. “General, we just lost eight guards!” exclaimed a man in Kurdish. The Generals scowl seemed to deepen, and he sighed. He picked up a handgun. BANG! The other mans glasses fell as he clutched his chest, and fell to the floor. The General threw the gun on his desk and stormed out of his office.
Greg slyly crept towards the exit. Suddenly, he stopped. He raised an eyebrow, looked around, and snuck into a room labelled “Weaponry”.
Another squad of guards continued scouting the gloomy building. Meanwhile, Greg skilfully handled what seemed to be a missile.
The General walked into the centre of the prison. He yelled some commands in Kurdish, and soon all the guards grouped behind him. The door to the Weaponry room slowly inched open, and a small sphere flew up. It hit the ground in “Ting”. The General quickly realised what it was, unlike his guards. The General scrambled through the guards, and the sphere exploded. The entire group of soldiers was either dead or writhing in pain. The only one still standing was the General.
The General swore, and Greg emerged with a bright smile. He was holding a tube gingerly. Greg gently placed on the ground, whipped a remote from his pocket and waved goodbye cheerily. He dandily pushed a button on the control and a flame burst from the rear of the tube. It raced forward as the General screamed “No! NO! NOOOO!” Flames erupted in a fierce fireball. Greg shielded his face as debris flew around the crumbling prison. Prisoners begged for mercy as fire engulfed their cells. A massive cloud of dust slowly settled on the ground. The rear wall was almost completely obliterated. Greg cheerfully walked through and into freedom.
By AA_BATTERY


A scorched hand reached from under a pile of rubble. A head slowly lifted from the top of the pile. His face was a mix of red, pink and black. The only human feature and his demented face was a deep scowl.

YEAH_NAH
10-14-2010, 05:43 AM
you posted it?! (for everyone else: we had to write short stories for school)

anyway, it is a great story :D

AA_BATTERY
10-14-2010, 05:43 AM
you posted it?! (for everyone else: we had to write short stories for school)

anyway, it is a great story :D
i had it here, and i though someone else other than you would be interested. :p

ShamgarBlade
10-14-2010, 05:51 AM
i had it here, and i though someone else other than you would be interested.

And I was! :) Loved the intensity of the story, as well as the little twist you had at the end. Very well written, you did a nice job.

YEAH_NAH
10-14-2010, 09:01 AM
i had it here, and i though someone else other than you would be interested. :p
other than me?!?! *DOES NOT COMPUTE.... BEEP BEEP BEEP.... BOOOOOOOOOOM*

now look what you've done, now I've got to clean all this up :(

AA_BATTERY
10-14-2010, 09:15 AM
And I was! :) Loved the intensity of the story, as well as the little twist you had at the end. Very well written, you did a nice job.

Thank you! :D. And yeahnah, um....... *stabs you with cutlery*

YEAH_NAH
10-14-2010, 09:18 AM
Thank you! :D. And yeahnah, um....... *stabs you with cutlery*
GREAT now more mess to clean up *wipes bleeding heart with towel*

AA_BATTERY
10-15-2010, 03:42 AM
GREAT now more mess to clean up *wipes bleeding heart with towel*

oh sorry :frightened: here let me... WHOOO! *accidentally stabs you with cutlery*