September 25, 2008

A Story. Finally.

Alright. Here's my latest story. It's very unlikely that I'll actually manage to write a second chapter fully, but here's the first.

(TITLE TO BE DECIDED)
A Jackrabbit down
Jack's brain only registered shock for a tenth of a second. After that, his brain was unconscious, but the immensity of the shock seemed to have kept his brain in an odd in-between state, so that it still attempted to find out why he had failed to clear the dumpster correctly. It was a fairly complicated jump, but he'd completed it flawlessly from the day he learned it.
Jack woke up two days later, a gunshot wound in his shoulder, in a hospital.
“Where's the bullet?” he asked the second he'd rounded up his senses and made sure he hadn't lost any of them.
“What?” said a nearby doctor, looking unnerved, “Hey! You're supposed to be asleep, doctor's orders!”
“What, did the doctor's union start a dictatorship?” Jack threw back, looking profoundly annoyed, “Now tell me, where is the bullet, you great albino Batman?”
The doctor looked slightly stunned for a few seconds, and then said, “The police have it. They're going to find the man that shot you, and you're going back to sleep,” he added firmly.
Jack immediately sat bolt upright. “No, they're not, and it's a she,” he said, flexing his legs and arms. The doctor looked blank, then arranged his features into a look that contained a dash of confusion but mainly conveyed the firm belief that the recipient of said look wasn't far from the state in which many have been put by large falls, or being knocked on the head with rather heavy objects.
“Oh, come on, how would you know that?” he asked, seemingly too astonished to stop Jack from doing experimental push-ups.
Jack snorted. “Like I'm going to tell you,” he said, getting out of bed and picking some very thin clothes from his backpack, which had been placed by his bed.
“Well, you can't leave now,” the doctor said, realizing too late that he was pleading, “You've got to stay in for another two days,” he said. “Doctor's orders,” he added helplessly.
Jack rolled his eyes.
The doctor suddenly looked up, looking triumphant. “And the police chief wants to see you, too!”
Jack jumped. “The...the police chief,” he repeated lamely, not looking around.
“Yeah,” the doctor said, seeming to think Jack's surprise and fear was actually resignation.
Jack bolted to the door in three long strides, opened it, and went out. The doctor came running to the door, at which point Jack took off his backpack and slammed him over the head when he came around the door. The doctor slumped down against the wall. Jack suddenly had an idea. Moving as fast as he could manage, he carried the doctor's body and moved it into his bed, pulling the covers over him.
“Sleep well,” Jack told the unconscious doctor. He patted the bald head almost thoughtfully, and bolted out the door once again.
Alright. Now. Post. Comment. Critique. All that good stuff. Really, get at it now. I need help. Literally.


!Noah!

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