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GeorgeCant94 By GeorgeCant94, 18th Jun 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

The introduction to a short story that will have further segments to follow, taking on themes of revenge, panic and false heroism.


The red truck laboured onwards as the virgin dust rattled helplessly from the ground and into the musky air. The truck halted and Raynor, a tall, robust man breathing like a whirring empty blender, jumped down. He lurched straight to the trunk without even a passing glance at the astounding solitude around him. He fiddled with his keys as the cooling shade climbed up his back and onto his neck, abating the scorching sun frying his skin. He was sweating maniacally and pounded the truck, pleading with it to comply. A jerk, a twist and a bounce, and the hood swung open like the mouth of a wolf mother protecting her babies. Another man of striking similarity to Raynor leapt straight from the trunk and galloped awkwardly away. Raynor dropped his keys and plummeted to the dirt to pick them up. His legs trembled as he assailed the side of the truck and leapt into his seat.
“Cam, get back the fight is ending”, yelled Raynor.

In the mirror Raynor stared demandingly at his near double, who was running aimlessly, helplessly in any direction that wasn’t the way he had come from. Raynor pounded the key into the ignition, and grabbed a short, stubby knife from his glove compartment, the kind that could be used to cut electrical cords. He clutched it tightly in his left hand and froze in anticipation. With measure and poise the he started the car. Stuttering forward, the car jumped up and down a couple of times, and then rested like a wounded deer, the failing engine wheezing desperately for relief. Raynor smashed his wheel, berating each cog in his old machine while mercilessly slamming the clutch. The air was moist and the heat swung like a pendulum, pulsating with the verve of a pious firefly. His knife fell from his hands, and as he tossed this way and that, it jammed between the inside of the truck door and the side of his thigh, scything the outer part of his upper leg for about 2 inches down. The scar had a wandering meander like an ancient river and the blood burst its skin banks and dripped patiently from Raynor’s leg. Carefully dropping with each crumbling beat of his heart. Drip. Drop. Beat. Raynor scrambled out of the car again, propping himself against the side mirror as he squeezed his eyelids together in pain. He looked up. The runaway was nowhere to be seen. Stumbling some more, Raynor turned the full 360 with dizzy composure before coughing violently and collapsing to the floor.


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Meet the author

author avatar GeorgeCant94
Hailing from the UK but studying in America, I am a soccer player with a passion for travel, adventure, and the diversity and delicate balance that makes people so unique and richly interesting.

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author avatar Nancy Czerwinski
18th Jun 2015 (#)

Thanks for sharing your story.

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