Post by faithfulguardian on Jul 23, 2012 17:09:10 GMT -5
Hey guys! this is a little tidbit from a book I'm working on, please let me know what you think!
It's main character is Danny McPherson, who is also portrayed on this site
---I crawled across the grass with as much stealth as I could muster in the early morning hour. I had managed to reach four of the five bodies lying on the field and collect their weapons, it was only the last man I needed to reach now. The man who had been the first to fall. Voices could be heard across the field where the last of my men had fallen, from the sounds of it, they were all dead now, and the enemy were raiding the bodies for supplies. If they could do it, so could I.
The private was lying on his side, as if asleep, aside from the gaping hole in his throat of course, and stared off with wide eyes of surprise. I couldn't tell in the light, but I thought his eyes looked blue. Taking hold of the musket that was lying across his back, I cut the strap with my dirk and pulled it gently from the body. Glancing over to the forest line as I pulled, I caught sight of a man walking towards the meadow. I dropped the gun and my head and became a dead shadow on the pale field awash in moonlight.
“Hey, boys! More target practice!” I heard him call to his fellow colonists in a thick American accent that sounded like a lazy Irishman who forgot to pronounce his R's. Almost an instant later a shot rang out across the field and thumped into the body beside me. It wasn't long before other voices joined his at the tree line and were trying for the raised body on its side next to me, who was flat on my stomach. My head was turned towards them and I watched as a handful of them fired. It then hit me, not a bullet of course, but a realization of just how good these men were at shooting. I was sure it helped that they all carried rifles, but even with a musket I bet they could have easily matched me in a contest.
“Let's try for the one lying flat.” said the first man as he lifted his rifle to his shoulder. I heard the distinctive click of the hammer being pulled back to full and I squeezed my eyes shut.
The blast was quick to follow and I could almost hear the bullet whizz towards me and pass just above my head, ruffling my hair in its path.
“I think you boys have had enough target practice for one night, don't you think? Let dead men lie.” Said a not unfriendly voice. “We'll see to the ones in the meadow in the morning.”
A warm bead of what I assumed to be sweat rolled down my forehead and into my brow as I remembered how to breath. Reaching up slowly to wipe it away, it was only when I pulled my hand away that I realized sweat wasn't coloured black in moonlight. Blood was. Reaching up again I felt a graze above my temple from where the bullet had passed over my head. The man had not missed after all.
Taking hold of the dropped musket again, I waited until I was sure they were not looking and then pulled it from the much holier private on the grass. I kept pressing my oversized sleeve to my forehead as the blood oozed down the side of my face. Crawling backwards, I made my way back to the pile of four other muskets, three pistols, and cartridge bags I had collected. From there I managed to push them to the edge and into the pit of the foundations. It would not be long before the sun rose and the colonists were finished with the traitorous band that had left me and came to pillage the rest of their spoils of war; and I would be ready for them.---
It's main character is Danny McPherson, who is also portrayed on this site
---I crawled across the grass with as much stealth as I could muster in the early morning hour. I had managed to reach four of the five bodies lying on the field and collect their weapons, it was only the last man I needed to reach now. The man who had been the first to fall. Voices could be heard across the field where the last of my men had fallen, from the sounds of it, they were all dead now, and the enemy were raiding the bodies for supplies. If they could do it, so could I.
The private was lying on his side, as if asleep, aside from the gaping hole in his throat of course, and stared off with wide eyes of surprise. I couldn't tell in the light, but I thought his eyes looked blue. Taking hold of the musket that was lying across his back, I cut the strap with my dirk and pulled it gently from the body. Glancing over to the forest line as I pulled, I caught sight of a man walking towards the meadow. I dropped the gun and my head and became a dead shadow on the pale field awash in moonlight.
“Hey, boys! More target practice!” I heard him call to his fellow colonists in a thick American accent that sounded like a lazy Irishman who forgot to pronounce his R's. Almost an instant later a shot rang out across the field and thumped into the body beside me. It wasn't long before other voices joined his at the tree line and were trying for the raised body on its side next to me, who was flat on my stomach. My head was turned towards them and I watched as a handful of them fired. It then hit me, not a bullet of course, but a realization of just how good these men were at shooting. I was sure it helped that they all carried rifles, but even with a musket I bet they could have easily matched me in a contest.
“Let's try for the one lying flat.” said the first man as he lifted his rifle to his shoulder. I heard the distinctive click of the hammer being pulled back to full and I squeezed my eyes shut.
The blast was quick to follow and I could almost hear the bullet whizz towards me and pass just above my head, ruffling my hair in its path.
“I think you boys have had enough target practice for one night, don't you think? Let dead men lie.” Said a not unfriendly voice. “We'll see to the ones in the meadow in the morning.”
A warm bead of what I assumed to be sweat rolled down my forehead and into my brow as I remembered how to breath. Reaching up slowly to wipe it away, it was only when I pulled my hand away that I realized sweat wasn't coloured black in moonlight. Blood was. Reaching up again I felt a graze above my temple from where the bullet had passed over my head. The man had not missed after all.
Taking hold of the dropped musket again, I waited until I was sure they were not looking and then pulled it from the much holier private on the grass. I kept pressing my oversized sleeve to my forehead as the blood oozed down the side of my face. Crawling backwards, I made my way back to the pile of four other muskets, three pistols, and cartridge bags I had collected. From there I managed to push them to the edge and into the pit of the foundations. It would not be long before the sun rose and the colonists were finished with the traitorous band that had left me and came to pillage the rest of their spoils of war; and I would be ready for them.---
I'm assuming this is post-some sort of battle?