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Shinju still remembered the car crash that had revealed her magic powers. The memory was fuel for her hatred, a fuel that never ran out. The three guards at the bottom of Min's warehouse hideout didn't have a chance. She cut the throat of two before they had time to stand up, shot the third through the head.
The train crossing blinking its green light. Shinju chattering away happily, her shopping in her lap. Michi driving, his loving eyes seeking hers for just a second...
Shinju kicked in the door to the upper storey of the warehouse, brandishing her rifle. A Chinese thug let out a call, immediately cut short by a burst.
Bullets impacted around her. She moved quickly, spraying accurate fire at the Chinamen, whether they were fleeing or fighting. She didn't care.
"I'm coming for you Min!" She shouted over the gunfire.
Michi's eyes widening in surprise, looking over Shinju's shoulder. The small Honda crumpled like a child's toy as the train hit it full speed, Michi disappearing in a singular burst of blood, folded in on himself and the car he had loved.
She smashed into the manager's office, dropping to a knee and felling Min's last two bodyguards. One of them got off a shot that hit her square in the forehead. The deformed bullet bounced off and fell to her feet.
"This is for Michi." Shinju said tersely. She had promised herself: no parting drama, no long monologues, nothing. Don't give him a chance to try any of his machinations.
The newspapers called it a miracle. It took the emergency workers eight hours to cut her loose, but she was completely unharmed. All that time Shinju felt Michi's loving eyes on her. Cold and slimey.
"I didn't do it you know--" Min began affably, his arms raised. He was wearing a traditional Chinese changshan in brilliant black silk. Shinju pressed the trigger. The silk did not show the blood, but the wall behind him did. Min looked from his fatal wounds to Shinju, growing pale. He fell down on his knees, all the fight gone out of him.
The crossing warning lights had been sabotaged. They called it an accident, but it was murder. Shinju knew from the moment the mysterious Min showed up, when his hand began to be seen everywhere in her life.
Min was sitting-lying in a pool of his own blood, staring up at Shinju. She walked up to him, rifle muzzle nearly trailing the floor, and crouched down by his dying form.
"Why did you do it?" She asked him, tears stinging her eyes. "Was I just some pawn in your fucked up game, Min?"
Min smiled, with apparent effort, then coughed a rattling end-of-your-life cough. "It wasn't me, Shinju. The train? Accident. But I..." He wiped some bloody spittle from his lips. "...I gave it meaning. Planted evidence. Gave you a reason to..." He huffed. "...to live. But yes. Everything after that...that was all me. The Shoebox conspiracy, the kidnapping of your mother-in-law, the Kansas City Shuffle..."
Was this one last ploy? But why? What was the point? Shinju stared at him, trying to harden her heart. Min looked at her and smiled again.
"Why?" He asked the question for her. In the distance, the sound of sirens. "Because, my dear, there's no reason you have magic in you. Magic that let you survive and Michi die. There's no destiny. There's no plot. You have it, he didn't. Unfair, isn't it?"
No. No, no, no...there was something more. Something else behind Min's dealings, and she'd find out. Find out why he wanted her dead. Or Michi dead. There had to be...
"How do I know?" Min, amazingly, managed to move just a bit, settling himself against the blood-splattered wall. He looked up at Shinju. "Because I've got magic too..." His voice was growing weaker. "...to find others like me."
It was as if he knew her thoughts. There had to be others, others with magical powers. Others Shinju could bond with, or if not, then fight. And somewhere beyond it all, an explanation.
Min let out a sigh, and his voice almost disappeared. "You're the only other one I ever found." He paused. He sounded almost bored: "Enjoy being alone and purposeless for the rest of your life. I did my best."
Min slumped down, dead, the second-to-last of his kind.
The train crossing blinking its green light. Shinju chattering away happily, her shopping in her lap. Michi driving, his loving eyes seeking hers for just a second...
Shinju kicked in the door to the upper storey of the warehouse, brandishing her rifle. A Chinese thug let out a call, immediately cut short by a burst.
Bullets impacted around her. She moved quickly, spraying accurate fire at the Chinamen, whether they were fleeing or fighting. She didn't care.
"I'm coming for you Min!" She shouted over the gunfire.
Michi's eyes widening in surprise, looking over Shinju's shoulder. The small Honda crumpled like a child's toy as the train hit it full speed, Michi disappearing in a singular burst of blood, folded in on himself and the car he had loved.
She smashed into the manager's office, dropping to a knee and felling Min's last two bodyguards. One of them got off a shot that hit her square in the forehead. The deformed bullet bounced off and fell to her feet.
"This is for Michi." Shinju said tersely. She had promised herself: no parting drama, no long monologues, nothing. Don't give him a chance to try any of his machinations.
The newspapers called it a miracle. It took the emergency workers eight hours to cut her loose, but she was completely unharmed. All that time Shinju felt Michi's loving eyes on her. Cold and slimey.
"I didn't do it you know--" Min began affably, his arms raised. He was wearing a traditional Chinese changshan in brilliant black silk. Shinju pressed the trigger. The silk did not show the blood, but the wall behind him did. Min looked from his fatal wounds to Shinju, growing pale. He fell down on his knees, all the fight gone out of him.
The crossing warning lights had been sabotaged. They called it an accident, but it was murder. Shinju knew from the moment the mysterious Min showed up, when his hand began to be seen everywhere in her life.
Min was sitting-lying in a pool of his own blood, staring up at Shinju. She walked up to him, rifle muzzle nearly trailing the floor, and crouched down by his dying form.
"Why did you do it?" She asked him, tears stinging her eyes. "Was I just some pawn in your fucked up game, Min?"
Min smiled, with apparent effort, then coughed a rattling end-of-your-life cough. "It wasn't me, Shinju. The train? Accident. But I..." He wiped some bloody spittle from his lips. "...I gave it meaning. Planted evidence. Gave you a reason to..." He huffed. "...to live. But yes. Everything after that...that was all me. The Shoebox conspiracy, the kidnapping of your mother-in-law, the Kansas City Shuffle..."
Was this one last ploy? But why? What was the point? Shinju stared at him, trying to harden her heart. Min looked at her and smiled again.
"Why?" He asked the question for her. In the distance, the sound of sirens. "Because, my dear, there's no reason you have magic in you. Magic that let you survive and Michi die. There's no destiny. There's no plot. You have it, he didn't. Unfair, isn't it?"
No. No, no, no...there was something more. Something else behind Min's dealings, and she'd find out. Find out why he wanted her dead. Or Michi dead. There had to be...
"How do I know?" Min, amazingly, managed to move just a bit, settling himself against the blood-splattered wall. He looked up at Shinju. "Because I've got magic too..." His voice was growing weaker. "...to find others like me."
It was as if he knew her thoughts. There had to be others, others with magical powers. Others Shinju could bond with, or if not, then fight. And somewhere beyond it all, an explanation.
Min let out a sigh, and his voice almost disappeared. "You're the only other one I ever found." He paused. He sounded almost bored: "Enjoy being alone and purposeless for the rest of your life. I did my best."
Min slumped down, dead, the second-to-last of his kind.
Literature
Intimes Tagebuch - 35 -
Intimes Tagebuch (35)
Da schreibt mir also völlig ungefragt dieser Typ, und was soll ich jetzt damit machen? Ihn blocken, logisch, aber sonst?
……
Was soll ich jetzt damit anfangen? Was will mir der Knabe damit sagen? Dass im Grunde mit seinem nicht mehr so stillschweigenden Einverständnis nun alles okay ist? Dass er, obwohl er ein Höhlenmensch ist, sich nun bemüht, offener zu werden? Und wie nett von ihm, dass er nichts unterbinden will. Sicher will er aber nur weiter mitlesen, was seine Freundin schreibt und was ich so schreibe - natürlich nicht, um sich daran aufzugeilen! Aber er muss informiert sei
Literature
Novelber
Bonjour, bonsoir
J'ai eu l'agréable surprise de tomber sur un mouvement Thaïlandais appelé NOVELBER, un mouvement proche du Inktober. Vous êtes les bienvenus si ça vous tentes.
J'ai voulu faire ça pour les gens qui aimeraient écrire, qui ont une panne d'inspiration, ne savent pas quoi écrire, ne sachant pas si ils sont fait pour écrire, qui souhaite se dépasser... J'ai voulu le faire surtout à but RÉCRÉATIF ! dans un esprit de partage.
REGLE 1: 30 jours = 30 écrits
REGLE 2: si vous participez au Novelber et postez vos textes, pensez à mettre le #novelber #novelber2
Literature
The Verlein
Crafted by yours truly,
The Intrusive Scribe
Physical appearance:
A Verlein’s body is anything but tender. Lithe limbs conceal dense bundles of muscles and nerves, encased in a thick armor of scales of varying shades of swampy green, blue-green like the seas, and the rare grey-green. Crimson blood flows through their veins, as does a potent immune system. Life expectancy is roughly eighty years, but the oldest Verlein on record is two hundred and sixteen.
Blackest black hair with highlights based on the Verlein’s natural association flows freely from their scalps – however, there is a one in eight thousand one hundred and n
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FFM for July 15. Rest of the entries: [link]
The challenge for today was to write a story with a magical girl and a magnificient bastard (more info on these tropes in the challenge link above), one of which should be played straight, the other inverted. Not sure how well I managed that, but...ah well!
NOT a McCheaterson!
The challenge for today was to write a story with a magical girl and a magnificient bastard (more info on these tropes in the challenge link above), one of which should be played straight, the other inverted. Not sure how well I managed that, but...ah well!
NOT a McCheaterson!
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Fast paced action and good dialogue. The end reminded me of Unbreakable.