If I may? Gonna crank up the melodrama, so please take this story serouisly, despite it not being ment to be serouis.

 

Comment and Critisim as such, please.

 

 

 

Tales of DOOM

 

 

 

Notes:

 

Although such events did not occur long ago, they have been forgotten, forgotten because the dark truth that stares us in the eye and doesn't not blink would consume us if we remembered. But such events must be remembered for if we cannot look into the dark then the dark will consume us once, again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My dad, was not a fighter. Or at least that is what I thought when I stepped into the dimly lit building that was the enlistment office. Like this story the darkness stared out of every line on the deadfaced officer behind the desk. These are the Revolutioners, he said as though these were his last words whispered to his son, on his deathbed telling him to avenge his death. I didn't like these people and even my dad thought this was too much, so he slammed the forms down on the table and said 'Where do I sign?'

 

 

 

It was seven days later when I realised that I could not be my dad, for seven days later he told me he was to kill the King. If I had my knife I would have stabbed him right there, he said. I left the building, that for seven days had been my home, and went to the Monarchy enlistment office. I swear it was the same bloke, one of the guards said as I passed. I placed my forms neatly on the desk, looked the officer right in the eye and said 'I have information, for you.'

 

 

 

Later that day Dad's clan came to the castle to ask for an audiance. The guards were on them at once, the King joked while my dad laughed uneasily. I was waiting for my chance to step forwards, to show my dad that his cause was lost, but I couldn't. As my the King signalled for me, my dad, thinking it was a trap, flung his knife at the King. He's dead, growled the King, as the Knife's handle hit him in the arm. The guards advanced, I tried to step forwards, to show myself, but they held me back.

 

 

 

It happened all at once. The door exploded off of its hinges. Flecks of wood sprayed the guards, piercing their armour and surrating them instantly. The King stood up as the guards let go of me. The fighting ensued, as my father slashed though the man who had seen me enlist. I was scared, I wasn't sure if who I would fight for, but in the end my choice was clear, my father and his men had defeated the guards and now were alone with me and the King. They hadn't seen me and so I picked up my Revolutioners blade, the one my dad had given me, and flung it at the advancing men. It stabbed my dad though the eye, and as he turned to see who had done it, his blade decapitated another of his men. The King saw what I had done and summoned up his courage, taking a blade and finishing off the rest of the men.

 

 

 

Outside the protestors were clashing with the guards, and amoung them was my mother. When the King came to the window, holding my father's head to the sky, asking for forgiveness for taking another's life, my mother went mental. Arrows flew though the air, and now he grips them by the hair, sang the guards as she got a bread knife and stabbed at them. One fell right away, and so my aim was clear, as the arrow departed from my bow and though her head.

 

 

 

The King prayed for my soul, and thanked me for my service to the cause. I accepted his thanks, and he offered me some land to the East, which I took, thinking to start my own family, and maybe one day becoming a King like my hero, King Harold

 

 

 

By

 

Tommy Falador, Aged 9.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tommy, your story is deeply disturbing, see me.

It's interesting. I would have said go a little more mature and intersperse 'father' instead of always using 'dad', but he's only nine... And I think you spelled 'fleks' wrong, shouldn't it be 'flecks'?

 

 

 

Wait, the beginning's confusing... His father was on his deathbed, but he was killed... Wasn't his head chopped off/eye stabbed out? (you make a reference to the king holding the father's head and begging forgiveness)

The officer is the one who is talking like 'the father on the deathbed' not the father.

I'm sorry, I still don't get it... :? Perhaps italics or quotes could help?

 

 

 

Or maybe just copy/paste the bits the officer says and the bits Tommy says so I can understand.

"These are the Revolutioners," he said as though these were his last words whispered to his son, on his deathbed telling him to avenge his death.

 

 

 

As though making it a similey. :

Mkay, it makes sense now. :thumbsup:

what is your age archimage ?

Oh 18 or something. I agree that it is not of a good standard, but I have never written a melodrama(They always ended up rather serouis, noir type, stories) before, so my abilities were somewhat stunted.