Float On
Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2019 11:19 am
BANG!
Alasdair had not been able to sleep for most of the night due to a combination of factors, but mostly because of the intermittent sound of gunshots being fired off by his neighbors in the apartment complex. Sure, it wasn’t the best place – things rarely worked and the landlords were more myths than actual living beings – but this was an uncommon situation. He had heard something about preparing for hunting rats or the like, but hunting held no interest for the young man. Research, however…
BANG!
Research was the other reason he hadn’t slept much. Tuesday night, Mallory appointed Alasdair as her new squire, and gave him the weapon to go along with that new title. A title, he hoped, would impress Max’s father should word get back to the man. After that, he had spent some time dancing with friends, this time hoping to pick up some moves that would impress Max herself. Returning in the early morning, Alasdair eschewed sleep in favor of researching how the spear worked, and its history. It was the history that kept him restless; the original owners died suddenly. This struck a nerve, as he was all too familiar with a death coming from nowhere.
BANG!
Attempting to get some sleep so late in the morning was fruitless. The loud noises and nagging thought in his mind conspired to keep him awake, and so Alasdair went about beginning his day. He hadn’t told Max about the news, but she was likely asleep now so he would wait. Instead, Alasdair considered doing more research into finding the cause of the sudden death of the original owners of the spear now in his possession; might as well go to the library to see what could be found. After showering and dressing for the day, he started to leave before stopping and looking toward the spear – considering if he should bring it along or leave it here. There wasn’t any need to take it, but perhaps he could get more practice in. A decision was made, and then Alasdair was out the door.
BANG!
He hoped by the time he returned that this would be out of their system, even if it came at the expense of some poor helpless rats. Maybe he would go to the Underground himself and see if he could rescue some of them, or at least set up some safe haven. Hunting for food or to control the population was one thing, but hunting for sport was another. These thoughts went through his mind until he felt a sudden sting to his side. It felt like a bee sting, but it was too cold for them now, and how did it get under his shirt and jacket?
“Shit! Hey, you okay?”
Puzzled by the question shouted at him and annoyed at the stinging sensation, Alasdair looked down to his side as the pain from that area started to spread. “Oh,” was the only word he could utter as his finger entered his body through the fresh bullet hole in his side. He felt a shudder of cold, and one moment later, Alasdair felt nothing at all.
Alasdair had not been able to sleep for most of the night due to a combination of factors, but mostly because of the intermittent sound of gunshots being fired off by his neighbors in the apartment complex. Sure, it wasn’t the best place – things rarely worked and the landlords were more myths than actual living beings – but this was an uncommon situation. He had heard something about preparing for hunting rats or the like, but hunting held no interest for the young man. Research, however…
BANG!
Research was the other reason he hadn’t slept much. Tuesday night, Mallory appointed Alasdair as her new squire, and gave him the weapon to go along with that new title. A title, he hoped, would impress Max’s father should word get back to the man. After that, he had spent some time dancing with friends, this time hoping to pick up some moves that would impress Max herself. Returning in the early morning, Alasdair eschewed sleep in favor of researching how the spear worked, and its history. It was the history that kept him restless; the original owners died suddenly. This struck a nerve, as he was all too familiar with a death coming from nowhere.
BANG!
Attempting to get some sleep so late in the morning was fruitless. The loud noises and nagging thought in his mind conspired to keep him awake, and so Alasdair went about beginning his day. He hadn’t told Max about the news, but she was likely asleep now so he would wait. Instead, Alasdair considered doing more research into finding the cause of the sudden death of the original owners of the spear now in his possession; might as well go to the library to see what could be found. After showering and dressing for the day, he started to leave before stopping and looking toward the spear – considering if he should bring it along or leave it here. There wasn’t any need to take it, but perhaps he could get more practice in. A decision was made, and then Alasdair was out the door.
BANG!
He hoped by the time he returned that this would be out of their system, even if it came at the expense of some poor helpless rats. Maybe he would go to the Underground himself and see if he could rescue some of them, or at least set up some safe haven. Hunting for food or to control the population was one thing, but hunting for sport was another. These thoughts went through his mind until he felt a sudden sting to his side. It felt like a bee sting, but it was too cold for them now, and how did it get under his shirt and jacket?
“Shit! Hey, you okay?”
Puzzled by the question shouted at him and annoyed at the stinging sensation, Alasdair looked down to his side as the pain from that area started to spread. “Oh,” was the only word he could utter as his finger entered his body through the fresh bullet hole in his side. He felt a shudder of cold, and one moment later, Alasdair felt nothing at all.