Day 1
February 15, 2007
Virden Forest
8:37 PM
It was a brisk, winter night as the wind blew through the woods. Snow previously lying upon the ground was now soaring along the air. Barely any nature was out as the temperature sunk. The only life abiding in this condition was a lonely man, with the name of Wilford Thompson. A weather analyzer, he worked in harsh conditions regularly, but nothing of this proportion. He slowly stepped up the steep hill, upon where his private station existed, against the penetrating wind. The ice below his feet crunched and crackled as he went on.
As the building came into vista, Thompson noticed something peculiar. The wind was beginning to die down, as the more steps he took. This was both a good thing and a bad thing; a good thing because he might actually make it alive, and a bad thing considering he wouldn't be able to forecast the current weather, which, obviously, was an extremely critical topic.
However, he noticed something about it; it almost seemed unnatural. Weather doesn't just stop quickly like this, it slowly and gradually comes to a point until it's dead. This case seemed to be much quicker.
Finally, by the time he reached the building, the storm completely halted. Everything was unnaturally silent. The wind had settled, the snow had stopped skipping down; everything seemed dead.
Thompson knew immediately that something was obviously wrong. It chilled him to the bone. He seemed to feel a sort of presence, as if someone was spying on him.
Then it happened.
The weatherman was ripped from his spot, shooting through the air, in a shot of a second. In the few seconds to think, he saw everything in blood red, as he felt a hot, searing pain in his side. He was thrown to the ground and flipped over, his head to the sky. Before it ended, he heard one last thing: "Let this be your warning."
To be continued in part 2...
So, how did everyone like it? It's one of my first stories written, so be kind, please.
Day 1
February 15, 2007
Virden Forest
8:37 PM
It was a brisk, winter night as the wind blew through the woods. Snow previously lying upon the ground was now soaring along the air. Barely any nature was out as the temperature sunk. The only life abiding in this condition was a lonely man, with the name of Wilford Thompson. A weather analyzer, he worked in harsh conditions regularly, but nothing of this proportion. He slowly stepped up the steep hill, upon where his private station existed, against the penetrating wind. The ice below his feet crunched and crackled as he went on.
As the building came into vista, Thompson noticed something peculiar. The wind was beginning to die down, as the more steps he took. This was both a good thing and a bad thing; a good thing because he might actually make it alive, and a bad thing considering he wouldn't be able to forecast the current weather, which, obviously, was an extremely critical topic.
However, he noticed something about it; it almost seemed unnatural. Weather doesn't just stop quickly like this, it slowly and gradually comes to a point until it's dead. This case seemed to be much quicker.
Finally, by the time he reached the building, the storm completely halted. Everything was unnaturally silent. The wind had settled, the snow had stopped skipping down; everything seemed dead.
Thompson knew immediately that something was obviously wrong. It chilled him to the bone. He seemed to feel a sort of presence, as if someone was spying on him.
Then it happened.
The weatherman was ripped from his spot, shooting through the air, in a shot of a second. In the few seconds to think, he saw everything in blood red, as he felt a hot, searing pain in his side. He was thrown to the ground and flipped over, his head to the sky. Before it ended, he heard one last thing: "Let this be your warning."
To be continued in part 2...
So, how did everyone like it? It's one of my first stories written, so be kind, please.