Third world was my second MS I ever wrote. The first was fanfiction about Command and Conquer. Yeah, I was 13 and you’re NEVER seeing that. I don’t even think I have it. Anywho, I am working on Blink but knowing where Ch5 ends or ended is taking awhile. Also, I’m debating taking Blink down and just doing a writer advice/review thingy on my new site.
In the mean time, here is a very old MS that I spruce up here and there every other month or so.
Book One: Jeremiah of Juba
(speed 2.mph/day (14hrs.) 26 days to reach 750 m. (Juba))
Introduction: The men without faces.
I am both glad and regretful I wasn’t there that day. All I have are what they tell me. But it’s also one of those moments in time I wish never happened to Jeremiah. It had to happen. And there are only so many things that a journalist can bear witness to. I could not bear to see this one. -Simon Morgan
Jeremiah sighed and walked over to the last missing bull. Jeremiah got a better grip on his prodding stick. He was lucky the creek had stopped the bull, the only one in the herd afraid of water larger than a creek. Looking up the valley, he put a hand over his brow to shield himself from the falling sun. The tall grass tickled his feet as they stretched out in the wind. It was not a good day, but he’d had worse.
The first whack on its back did nothing to the bull.
Jeremiah sighed. He was tired, drenched in sweat down to his shorts, his only real possession. Weary from redirecting the entire herd, which had been jumpy since the thunderstorm the day before, Jeremiah looked to see if there was an older child like Isaac, a teenager, who could help him. The bull snorted and started walking away again.
Whack. The bull still didn’t move.
Jeremiah was furious at the stubborn bull.
He raised his tool again and lowered it on the bull’s backside.
Bang. And the bull was off on a sprint, never to be seen again.
Bang? Jeremiah looked at his stick. Bang was a new sound for it. And it wasn’t until he heard machine gun fire coming from the village that he realized the bang had not come from the stick at all.
He turned slowly around to look up the incline. Footsteps could be heard in the grass and dark blurs sped by in maddening speeds. Two of those blurs ran up to him and stopped. Nathanial and his older brother Isaac pulled at Jeremiah’s torn and much too small, shirt. They pleaded with him, told him it was hopeless as he took the first steps back towards the village.
He whispered the words, “not again,” and effortlessly shrugged both boys back, though Isaac was in his late teens and Jeremiah was thought to be only eight years old.
Through trembling legs and hands, he sneaked unnoticed to the corner of the village fence, then to the front. Peering into the breaks of the fence made of thick branches, he saw the slaughter, torture, and rape of people who had taken him in when his original home had befallen the same fate.
As he craned his neck around the corner towards the front gate of the village, he could see three trucks and two men guarding the gate. He looked at their uniforms, camouflage with an ivory green at the neck and sleeve collars. A terrifying thought occurred to him, these men were acting more organized than last time. “They aren’t militia…” he whispered to himself.
Thoughts? Opinions? Have I gotten better with Blink or is this OMG-why aren’t you working on this instead?