M13: Kenneth Danielson start:
The first thing he noticed was the heat.
A rural Canadian, heat of this level was scorching. He could almost feel his skin turning red as his closed eyes were pounded with bright light.
One eye flickered open, then shut almost instantly at the massive, blinding glare.
Ken rolled over, feeling the hard soil unyielding under his body.. Opening his eyes once more, he found himself staring at a blanket of coarse brown grass. As he lifted himself up onto his hands and knees, he felt his breathing constricted. He lifted a hand up to tug his shirt collar down, but felt a thick layer of leather instead.
........shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit
Ken's head came up quickly, but the bright light of the sun nearly blinded him and rendered the landscape impenetrable. As he stood, head pounding, his vision slowly cleared. He was standing in a massive plain of dry grass, stretching farther than the eye could see. Little green shrubs dotted the flat landscape, breaking up the monotony and putting into sight just how dead and isolated the land was. A bird called in the distance, the stereotype almost amusing to him.
As he stumbled backward in surprise, he suddenly lost his footing and fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. As he gasped and rolled over, he saw what had tripped him: a thick tan backpack, completely plain and unassuming.
Picking himself back up and coughing, Ken leaned over to the bag and unzipped it, taking a peek inside. He saw a folded-up piece of thick paper, a thick metal compass, and several packages wrapped in wax paper. Scanning the horizon, he failed to spot a single soul. He was completely alone. Not even a tumbleweed to roll by and keep him company. As he looked to his right, he suddenly spotted a set of dark structures far off on the horizon.
Quickly zipping up the bag and slipping it over a shoulder, Kenneth patted his pocket reflexively. Feeling a familiar shape, he reached in and found his ziplock sandwich bag with several pairs of cheap blue earplugs. Fitting them snugly in place, he began to shakily walk in the direction of the town.
Maybe he would find something important there.
((Kenneth Danielson continued in Wait we do WHAT?!))
Ain't Hotter Than Hell, But Just as Bad
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chitoryu12*
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Ain't Hotter Than Hell, But Just as Bad
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Frozen Smoke
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(Eoin Harper >>>>>>> Simulation Commencing)
As Eoins dry, reddened, itchy, swollen eyes creaked open, like an ancient door that had not been opened for centuries, the first thought that entered his mind was not, "What the absolute Frick is going on?" or the simillar, if a lot less eloquent "OHGODOH.GOD! IMGOINGTODIEMYFRIENDSAREALLGOINGTOKILLMEINTHISPLACE", but rather a lot more mundane, almost collected "It's darn hot here isn't it?".
He blinked the thin film of dust that coated his eyes, and then immediately closed his eyes. The sun was really bright, painfully so. He scrunched his eyes up, and used his hands to feel the area around his body. There was a thin coating of... Grass? Wheat, weeds? It didn't matter either way, but the fact that they clung to a soft, almost granulated dirt did. He was in a desert of some sort.
He sighed, and then spoke. "Why a desert? Why?"
He hated heat, the horrible intensity that just sucked everything out of you, like a terrible pressure on your back, that made you turn red and peel like a mutant onion. That was probably the downside to living in Canada. You kinda got accustomed to the cold, until heat seemed foreign. He'd expierienced this before, when he was in Egypt, the land of mystery and big pyramids and being paralysed by sunburn.
He pushed himself off of the floor, his eyes still tight against the blinding sun. After he stobbed wobbling, he slowly opened them, ready to shut them again if it was too bright. He managed to get them open to a squint before they started to sting, so he squinted at the ground that was alien beneath his feet.
He coughed as the dry atmosphere scratched his throat, and rubbed his eyes that felt as though they were still on fire. If this was hay fever, it'd chosen the worst possible time to decide to show up. But it wasnt likely to be that. Probably just a side effect of the gas. If that was it , then everyone else would be affected, so no real problem. No chance of anyone just ambushing him straight away. That was actually sort o-
It was at this exact moment that the realisation that everything that the "Sherrif" had said was true hit him like a house of proverbial bricks.
He needed to get away from here. NOW.
He picked a direction. And then he ran.
( Eoin Harper Continued To: Horror Business.)
As Eoins dry, reddened, itchy, swollen eyes creaked open, like an ancient door that had not been opened for centuries, the first thought that entered his mind was not, "What the absolute Frick is going on?" or the simillar, if a lot less eloquent "OHGODOH.GOD! IMGOINGTODIEMYFRIENDSAREALLGOINGTOKILLMEINTHISPLACE", but rather a lot more mundane, almost collected "It's darn hot here isn't it?".
He blinked the thin film of dust that coated his eyes, and then immediately closed his eyes. The sun was really bright, painfully so. He scrunched his eyes up, and used his hands to feel the area around his body. There was a thin coating of... Grass? Wheat, weeds? It didn't matter either way, but the fact that they clung to a soft, almost granulated dirt did. He was in a desert of some sort.
He sighed, and then spoke. "Why a desert? Why?"
He hated heat, the horrible intensity that just sucked everything out of you, like a terrible pressure on your back, that made you turn red and peel like a mutant onion. That was probably the downside to living in Canada. You kinda got accustomed to the cold, until heat seemed foreign. He'd expierienced this before, when he was in Egypt, the land of mystery and big pyramids and being paralysed by sunburn.
He pushed himself off of the floor, his eyes still tight against the blinding sun. After he stobbed wobbling, he slowly opened them, ready to shut them again if it was too bright. He managed to get them open to a squint before they started to sting, so he squinted at the ground that was alien beneath his feet.
He coughed as the dry atmosphere scratched his throat, and rubbed his eyes that felt as though they were still on fire. If this was hay fever, it'd chosen the worst possible time to decide to show up. But it wasnt likely to be that. Probably just a side effect of the gas. If that was it , then everyone else would be affected, so no real problem. No chance of anyone just ambushing him straight away. That was actually sort o-
It was at this exact moment that the realisation that everything that the "Sherrif" had said was true hit him like a house of proverbial bricks.
He needed to get away from here. NOW.
He picked a direction. And then he ran.
( Eoin Harper Continued To: Horror Business.)