Dodger's Story:
I wrote this two years ago for English Coursework, and I think it's pretty bad ass. I own at life.
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The clouds parted, revealing the bright, glowing full moon. A dull eerie glow was cast over the silent graveyard.
Suddenly there was an ear-piecing scream that made the hairs on the back of Harrison’s neck stand on end. The scream was cut short however, and silence once again engulfed the graves. Harrison picked up the pace, dodging in-between the gravestones, straining his ears to pick up the slightest noise. His eyes frantically scanned the ground and darkness in front, searching for anything that might lead him to the source of the noise.
A cloud drifted effortlessly in front of the moon, plunging Harrison and his surroundings into complete darkness.
“Oh bugger” he whispered with meaning.
Suddenly Harrison walked into something in the dark,
“Who’s there?” He said hoarsely.
Out of the darkness a match flared, the figure was holding it close to his face.
“S’me” spoke the familiar voice of Harrison’s partner, Wilson.
“Alright Stan” continued Harrison, as if their unexpected meeting was nothing out of the ordinary. The match that Wilson now held at arms length flickered and died.
“What’s happened?” Harrison whispered softly, “Why aren’t you waiting for the backup?”
“Don’t move!” said a gruff voice, sharply in Harrison’s ear. A smooth cold blade silently appeared at Harrison’s throat.
“Are you sure you want to be doing this?” Harrison asked calmly.
“I’ll ask the questions I think” said the voice harshly, “what are you doing here?”
Harrison’s elbow shot back like a piston, jabbing the attacker sharply in the stomach.
Harrison swung around quickly and, the attacker, in his own private world of pain, lowered his head protectively, causing it to connect forcibly with Harrison’s knee, which was travelling in the other direction.
The attacker staggered backwards and tripped over, banging his head on a gravestone.
“Hmmm…” said Harrison reflectively, watching the prone body. The man didn’t get back up.
“I did warn him,” said Harrison turning to face his partner. There was a gap in the foreground, where Wilson should be, but he had disappeared.
Suddenly a great blast of flame appeared in the distance, spiralling into the air.
“Damn” said Harrison, as the darkness got even blacker and Harrison was left with a white shape etched on the back of his eyelids.
He started to stumble towards the direction of the flames, “What the hell is going on?” he said to himself.
Harrison wandered on amidst the graves, maybe if he had been paying more careful attention, or if the fire had not made him lose his human night vision, then Harrison might have noticed that some of the shadows by the side of his path were a little too dark. He didn’t however, not until it was too late, two men, clothed in black jumped him from either side. Harrison reacted quickly, kicking the first man, hard in between the legs, leaving him writhing on the floor. Harrison had heard people talk of fighting fair, and had decided he wanted no part of it. The second man was quick however and Harrison heard the dull sound of wood hitting a head, his own head. He slumped forward.
“Urgh” Groaned Harrison as he came round. For the moment he kept his eyes closed, concentrating, which made his head ache. He seemed to be sat at ninety degrees,
“I wonder how this happened,” He thought to himself, but that can wait until later.
The ground underneath Harrison was icy cold and slightly wet, and he could feel something hard behind his head. Slightly pleased with this process of deduction, still keeping his eyes closed, he tried to move his arm upwards, but nothing happened. He tried his other arm, nothing.
“Hmmm…” said Harrison.
“Nice of you to join us.” Muttered Wilson.
Harrison opened his eyes; he was still in the graveyard. He glanced down; his arms and upper body were tightly bound to, what he could only think was, a gravestone.
Next to him Wilson was tied likewise.
“You’ve been out cold twenty minutes,” Wilson informed him, “they tied us up”
“Really?” Harrison said sarcastically. “Who’s they?” he continued.
“Well…from what I’ve worked out myself…we really don’t want to be involved in this”
“What do you mean?” Said Harrison Cautiously.
“Shhh,” hissed Wilson “their coming” His eyes were transfixed on the lip of the hill, about half a league away.
Harrison could hear drums coming from the same direction. They were slowly getting louder.
“Look Wilson, what’s happening around here?”
“I’m afraid we might be going to find out.” Replied Harrison’s partner fearfully.
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I myself, love descriptions, and descriptive adjectives. As you may well see
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