Inner Truths Part 2 - Recollection With a splitting headache still roaring through my head, I open the door into the most beautiful world I have ever seen. It is so majestic that for a few moments, nothing else even matters. Birds of all different colors and varieties flutter and dive through the air, occasionally snatching small insects or perching on the limbs of the grand, towering redwood trees. Ferns carpet the forest floor like a rolling sea of green life, while the air feels thick with moisture and smells of rain. But sadly, I come crashing back to reality when I see the ten foot tall, electric fence, topped with coils of razor wire stretching into the canopy as far as the eye can see. My initial reaction is one of sheer panic. I scramble to the fence and it confirms my fear - the fence is hot. With no coherent plan, I stumble back to the small concrete block of a room, numb with the realization of my total helplessness. As I approach, I hear what seems to be a human voice coming from behind the cell. At first, my heart leaps into my throat, maybe this person can help me escape from this...prison, I suppose. But then it sinks just as rapidly as I realize that perhaps this person is not here to help me, but rather to guard me, or even kill me. Judging from my recent flashback, I could be a murderer for all I know. Creeping softly on the bed of ferns, I sneak to the corner of my cell and steal a glance around the chipped, decaying corner. What greets me is something of a surprise. There is an old military cot pushed up against the back of the cell, and a satellite radio, the source of the voice, sitting on top of a rusted, fifty gallon oil drum. But what grabs my attention like an alarm klaxon is the body. Lying face down near the cot. With the tip of a ten-inch knife blade protruding from its back like a dorsal fin. I approach slowly, wary of any sounds that might indicate a returning killer. The smell of rotting meat is hanging in the air and at first, I have to fight to keep my stomach under control. Approaching the body, it is evident that it has been here like this at least a week. I go through his pockets, looking for any clues to my past life, or my present one. As I go through his wallet, I come across an item that threatens to overwhelm me with foggy memories and overwhelming guilt: the picture of the small boy from my memory with a bloodstain spread across his chest and the words, 'Remember why we are doing this - for justice'. Back in my cell, I hug my knees to my chest as the memories flood through my brain like white water rapids. The boy was my target. I was told to kill him. But who would tell me to kill a child? And most disturbing, why would I listen? As I mull over my new memories, new thoughts surface: How did I get this scar on my arm? Did the boy give it to me? Who killed the man behind my cell, and why? As I ponder these mysteries, a man's shadow falls across the doorway. "I believe I can help you."

I plan to. :lol:

Thanks everyone, my question has been answered. Mod, you can close this thread please.

This was...DARK. :ph34r: :ph34r:

Yep! :lol: :lol: :D

Yep! :lol: :lol:

Love this contest!! Story writing is awesome!!

The Last Day *** I woke early in the morning. Nothing out of the ordinary. Simply another day with my family. Little did I know that it was the last time I would see them... *** "Joseph! Breakfast is ready!" my Mom calls from the kitchen. I open my eyes slowly and roll out of bed. Our house is a small cabin in northern Montana, on the bank of a serene lake. After the Great War, radioactive waste covered most of the population centers in North America, making it only safe to live many miles away from any previous town. We drove until our car ran out of gas and then walked into the woods until we stumbled upon this cabin. Seemingly deserted, I fixed it up with old tools that were in the shed nearby, my Dad having been killed in the war. It has been 3 years since that day, but the images of bodies littering the road and the air being thick with smoke and the smell of death are still as vivid in my mind as if they had happened yesterday. As I stumble into the kitchen, the smells of pine needle tea and rabbit steaks roasting greet my nose. After my meal, I go outside to check my line of traps and snares. The first one is sprung, but with no prey inside. I reset it and continue with my trek. Walking through the quiet woods I have lots of time to think. After the Nukes dropped, there were rumors of mutant animals that prowled the woods and even ventured into the refugee camps. They were supposedly born after the radiation had covered the country. There were reports of ten-foot tall gorillas, lions with six legs, and bears with only half a face. Besides physically mutilating the animals, the radiation also had a profound effect on their minds. They lost their inherent fear of man and began to attack any humans on sight. The woods were no place to have fun or roam anymore. As I approach the last trap, the day's catch hanging from my belt, I hear the most un-earthly sound. Starting as a woman's scream, it rises in pitch until it peters out to a low wail. Once it stops, an earth-shattering roar shakes the ground. The sounds are on both sides of me. I am being hunted. Knowing that whatever this creature is, it will respond to the stimuli of running, I begin to back away from the area as quickly and quietly as I can. After two minutes of silence, I turn around and begin to jog back toward my cabin. Nearing the cabin, another scream pierces the air. Only this, time, it sounds like my mom. Breaking into a dead run, I tear through the woods, branches slapping at my face, roots reaching for my boots, until I come to the clearing. I hesitate at the edge of the clearing, looking for anything out of the ordinary. And that's when I see it. Word Count-501

Ciao petroliere! Sono realtà non italiano a tutti, ma è la mia lingua preferita così ho intenzione di agire come posso parlarlo!

Sure thing. Thanks for the heads up!

Another fine example...

A man is traveling through the desert with no water and no food for three days when he comes across a small town in the middle of nowhere. As he enters the town he sees a small saloon and goes in. He goes to bartender and says, "I need some food, water, anything!" The bartender asks how much money he has. The man pulls out a dollar bill, "Just this." "That's enough for a glass of water and a biscuit", said the bartender. The man scarfs down the water and biscuit, but they barely touch is his hunger. The entire time, there has been an old man at the end of the bar with a huge bowl of chili in front of him, but he never touches it. "Hey mister, if you're not going to eat that, I'm starving, so could I have it?" "Sure." Says the old man as he slides the bowl down to him. The man eats the chili like a starved dog. Nothing ever tasted better! He's eating and eating until he comes to the bottom of the bowl and sees a dead mouse in it. Having been without food for so long, his stomach can't handle it and he barfs all the chili back into the bowl. Looking down the bar at him, the old man says, "That's about how far I got too."

"Hello, is this the state mental hospital?" "Yes it is, how may I help you?" "Could I talk to Mr. Brown in room 127?" "Hang on while I connect you...I'm sorry, it appears Mr. Brown isn't answering." "Good! That means I really escaped!"