Tuesday, June 7, 2011

LastKnight: Innocent's End or Dusting Off Old Stories.

I recently had the fortune of unearthing some old writings and poetry of mine that I had actually almost resigned as lost or forgotten works. Amidst my old files and notebooks a number of things caught my attention and so I decided to try my hand at giving them a a little revisit. I must also admit I have been toying with the notion of sharing my old poetry as well, even if the thought does also hold a measure of apprehensive worry for me.

For starters I'd like to share the re-worked opening scene to a story that at one time held a lot of promise for me. One that now though, I think could stand better in a different way. Granted I still think it needs more work, even on this section alone not to mention those to come. But I thought I might just go ahead and share this one and perhaps if I'm lucky, might even gather some feedback. Hope you find enjoyment in it's reading(and that I can manage to return to my previous posting schedule).

LastKnight: Innocent's End

The echo of authority rang in the simple and clear orders that had been issued to specialist Miles Stone. Deployed along the town's perimeter, Miles sat in the armored core of a massive ground suit. According to his instructors the ground suits had been designed to resemble a humanoid frame to enable a pilot a more instinctive combat form. Unfortunately the engineers idea of a humanoid form had to have been aesthetically flawed, as Miles often found his unit more resembling some hulking mechanical ape.

Finding himself frozen, his mind gripped in thought, Miles kept replaying his orders in his mind as he watched battle explode around him. Defend the town at all cost, that had been his primary objective. While doing so, he was silently urged to engage any enemy units he was capable of until he lacked the ability or the ammunition to do so. It had even been noted, disturbingly, that should he fall stoically defending his post, he would receive full honors for his valiant effort.

Deaf to the thunder of cannon-fire, a single word shook him more violently than any impact. Such a simple thing, the word 'enemy', and yet it had managed to cripple him inside. Questions flooded threw his mind like a wave of gunfire to tear at him, leaving him more shaken than any physical bullet ever did. Just what made these other pilots his enemy, and he theirs? Why had he been ordered to fight them, and for what? 

As battle raged all around him, and buildings shuddered under artillery fire, a sudden roar of force ripped into his suit's frame. The shock of impact brought Miles back to the reality of the moment if only long enough to register another ground suit as it took aim once more. Gentle as the breeze, a quiet whisper slipped from his lips to ask empty air; why? Numb and confused, his gaze turned blank once more as another shot found it's target in his right shoulder. The suit groaned as it's systems reacted to counter the force of the blast and maintain it's orientation.

Another blast caught him hard, thudding into his chest. This time instinct ignited inside the young pilot, spurring subconscious reflexes to life. In a fluid motion, he threw the throttle forward and with a murderous hum his unit exploded into motion to charge at it's attacker. While his opponent, clearly caught off guard by the sudden movement, fought to regain his aim. Miles brought his right arm up in a lighting fast jerk to bring his rifle's butt crashing into his foe's head.

A loud ripping of metal marked the clash of the two ground suits. With flames beginning to take root from inside, Miles spun his barrel to his targets chest and loosed a point-blank burst. The world slowed once more as Miles saw his opponent fall to the ground. The battle continued to rage on all around him. People died all around him, and as he took in the piles of mechanical corpses that littered the ground like metal bodies now lifeless and  ravaged, he felt more alone than he ever had.

Feeling left him and with it all thought as Miles Stone dropped his rifle and began to walk his way away from the battle. In a daze he found himself climbing down from his ground suit as it had come crashing down in an expanse of trees. Hollow he climbed up to perch in a small oak and watched as the fighting continued without him. No one had even marked his disappearance in all the chaos. He had just disobeyed orders, and worse, as a soldier he had just abandoned his post. The thought bothered him but what sickened him more inside was the realization that he himself couldn't even answer a simple question; why?