October 3, 2010

Idea for NaNoWriMo

I've been debating with myself on what plot I should do for NaNoWriMo, this is an idea of something I may do for it.

            White is all I can see over the barren wasteland… No, it is not a wasteland doomed to never know what life is. Yes, the ever-lasting winter makes it hard on all life, but it still exists. This land is painted on a white canvas with dark browns and grays, with the occasional sight of chipping paint of greens, reds, and blues.
            Many would consider this land a frozen Hell, but this is my home. And although they think it is Hell, they still fight to the death over this one little chunk of land. I’ve never been into politics or warfare; it was something in my past that I hate; no matter how I try I can never forget.
            My thoughts are broken by the sharp snarl behind me. I instinctively turned from the window that shielded me from the frozen tundra and reached for the RPG, strapping it securely onto my back. I snagged my silenced Barret .50 caliber and two silenced Desert Eagles on the weapons rack.
            As much as I hated war, I had no choice but to fight. If anyone was to take control of this land there would be more bloodshed than I could ever cause. The wolf sat in the corner, our gazes’ locked, amber meeting ice. It silently turned and walked out of the doorway, I followed behind it.
            The train cars that have been long abandoned sat sideways or off of the broken tracks, covered with snow and rusting away.
            At first I cannot see my companion, a bark alerted me and I whipped my head towards my blind side. He points south; there is a silent agreement between us. The wolf turns north, he knew to never interfere with my battles; he would never survive.
            The forest becomes denser and I tense my muscles. Their noise in the normally quiet forest reaches my ears, even from approximately a mile away. I know not to run; scouting patrols would detect me faster otherwise. I climbed into a tall conifer tree, and waited.
            Within ten minutes they arrive, two cars carrying eight eachpeople each; but I must wait. My first target arrived, crashing through the trees. A large tank barreled into the trees just on my left and was passing right below me. Show time.
            I pulled a pine cone off the tree and threw it into the nearby bushes,
            “Did you see that?” All the vehicles instantly stopped. “Check your heartbeat sensors.” I carefully pulled out my sniper rifle and took aim at the cockpit of the tank; bullet penetration was not something I worried about; even if I did miss the shot it would ricochet inside and still kill the driver.
            The shot fired, I smiled when everyone started panicking. “Striker 1, come in! Are you okay? Striker 1!” One person jumped off and forced open the tank. Satisfaction hit me when they pulled out a man who was bleeding profusely at the neck.
            “He’s dead! There’s a sniper here!” Everyone dropped out of the cars and hit the ground. Except for one person, judging by the amount of badges he was wearing he was probably they’re commander. I readied another shot.
            He examined the tank, running a finger over where the shot penetrated the steel. His head whipped up, and I fired another shot into his face. The battle instantly broke out. The men tried to fire at me; fools, all of them.
I leaped easily towards another tree, whipping out my two pistols and firing death upon them as I flew over them. I changed into a summersault and caught onto the branch of a tree. Looking down I saw at least ten men dead from my accurate shots.
Bullets whizzed by my ears, another man was firing from a mounted machine gun on one of the cars; an easy kill. I pulled out by already loaded RPG, taking aim before firing the rocket. The car exploded, incinerating the man on contact. I jumped down from my tree; five soldiers remained, all of them taking aim, but with very unsteady hands.
They all began to fire at me; I ducked and dashed into the snow, reloading my pistols as I ran. Taking advantage of my home, I climbed another tree and leaped into the four foot snow, burying myself beneath the white abyss.
I could hear their footsteps; I double checked my pistols as I listened to them. I can understand their language, I was taught before I had escaped my prison.
“Where did she go?”
“More importantly, how did a little girl get a hold on big guns like that?”
There was a moment of silence, judging by the noise they made, they had to be at least five meters away.
One unfortunate soldier spoke up, his voice shaking terribly. “Do you think that she could be The General they all talk about?”
I almost laughed out loud, if I could speak. I had gained that name from the demolition I caused to both sides of the conflict. It was only fitting that they called me General Winter after my country’s greatest ally, and greatest enemy.
I rose out of the snow quickly, and shot off one round after another, the men all crumpling into the snow. All was silent, not a single man was left alive to tell the tale. I dragged the bodies through the snow, staining the snow red with their blood. I lined them all up before covering their bodies with snow. Make-shift crosses out of wood from the forest were the best I could do for them.
My gaze traveled to the tank and what was left of the cars, it would take be a while to transport these back to my base; not to mention all of the guns would be useful when they send another patrol.
As I gathered up the scattered guns and ammunition, something catches my eye in the snow. I pick it up between my pale, thin fingers. It was a picture; a family portrait with the nervous soldier and his family.
I shake my head and pocket the photograph into my pocket. I once had a family too, but then the Gathering had torn my life away. My family was slaughtered; my entire village was destroyed in a single night. Why I was singled out, I’ll never know. Maybe it was because I was the last survivor, maybe it was because I just simply survived the longest by hiding in a corner and killing a single soldier with a knife to his back.
Either way, I wish I had died with my family. Death could never compare with the torture, the tests, and the experiments.
A small whine alerted me. My wolf was back, pawing at my pant-leg and looking up with concerned amber eyes. I smiled and rubbed his head. That part of my life was gone; I was no longer a tool for mass destruction, I controlled my own life. I had destroyed the lab, killed everyone who knew of my existence, and I have found a new home.
I piled in the rifles into the back of the truck, and attached a hook onto the front of the smoldering remains of the other jeep; I will take care of the tank later. I opened the passenger door, the wolf, Loka, jumped into the car without question. The seat wasn’t soft, but it was more comfortable than a tank.
The seat would not adjust to my height, but it would have to do. I was a war machine, built to demolish everything in my path, but I am human too. If I could go back to my old home I would, but nothing but painful memories existed there now.
My home belonged at that old abandoned train station. If they wanted it, they would have to pry it from my cold dead hands.

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