Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25410869-20140914075109/@comment-25410869-20140915053915

I fixed it up a bunch more, I say it looks more polished.

I'm kinda an impatient writer :/

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He is the man born of wood and metal, or Metalunker. I gave him that name on the day we became "Friends."

He's not a normal person, personality wise, and he definitely doesn't resemble one either.

It all started about 4 years ago, though I'm fuzzy on what exact month. I had one of the shortest yet most vivid dreams I can remember, and to be fair, there's no way I would forget it.

I walked along a short pathway that leaves my house from the back yard, it doesn't really go anywhere, just a dead end, Perhaps it was just a hiking trail. At the end of the path I sat and waited, perched on a stump like I was expecting a friend to meet with me in the woods. I perked my ears because I heard a sound, equivalent to banging garbage cans together. But this wasn't far away at all. I looked up, and what I saw was the hunk of metal I now call Metalunker. He dangled above me, long and sharp metal pipes anchored him in the trees, and though it was very peculiar, at the sight of him I was excited, strangely similar to the feeling when you get a new game.

Why would such a being as that make me feel joyously excited?

I don't know.

He threw the spiked pole like a spear, but the chain snagged it going through the air, I would say the chains were 15+ feet, but the additional length of the spear itself, and the pole it was attached to, gave him more range.

There were no more trees in range, so he descended.

He limped his way to me, chain dragging in the leaves. as he moved closer I was able to see his face, but soon it all faded and the dream was gone.

His face, if you can call it that, looked like a rusted paint can, worn to the rim, and even used as somebody's target practice.

I can still remember every mark.

The next part is a bit more vague, though I remember it was late fall, and inching its way into winter. Late at night fog surrounded my house,The thick blanket made it impossible to see more than 10 ft through the fog. I swear I heard the distinguishable clanging from my dream, it caused my stomach to churn. I asked if my brothers heard it, but to no avail.

All this continued every day but nobody else heard him. I believed to my core he was out there.

It was weeks after that when it all turned for the worst.

I had nothing to do and the weather was exceptionally nice so I went outside, and for whatever reason I wondered off onto the exact path in my dream.

I sat down and waited, even though my posterior was dampened by doing so. With the grey sky filtering through the leaves above me. I wished that I had something exciting to do, but what was I sitting on? A trash can? what an odd place, and why would it be here?

Of course I stood up, and noticed it was a dented and scarred metal trash can, pierced with a spread of bullets. It looked familiar, but I couldn't pin how. That was, until I decided to stand it up. Wires were attached to it and they upturned the dead leaf matter on the ground. As they were pulled from the bushes I noticed he even had the metal poles, chain and all. This was his body, but where's the head?

In a moments notice I ran for it, but as a disturbing image floated in my mind I tripped only feet away, An old rusty paint can rolled to the body. To my surprise every bullet mark I remember was there.

His hand reached for it, the wood almost completely blackened, It looked scorched from fires, and with a slam, he reattached it to his neck.

It was not expected, but he spoke.

The only words I can remember that day were the ones he spoke. "I need you..." As he said that he tilted his head in such a demented way, as though he meant to be looking at me. He had no eyes, making it impossible to tell where he held his focus. He had only a cold metal face, if you can call it that. Of course I could only look at him, He gestured for a response. I noticed his limbs looked like they belonged to an over-sized puppet when he stood up, He even slouched and his legs made him stand in a flimsy position. I tried to respond but if I would mutter anything it would be Inaudible gibberish for sure.

"I want to be like you... A normal person."

Though there was nothing normal in how he went about it, I say if he did want to be normal he had an incredibly odd way of showing it.

He would never go near my home, but the moment I left the sight of my house' windows I would hear a clank and rattling of the metals that made up his body. He would just follow me, the only noise in the deafening silence were his chains dragging behind me.

He would repeatedly ask me to find him a face, one that belonged to a handsome man, but I could never return the favor, if I had found a suitable face I knew he would likely tear it from the skull, or drive the man into doing it himself.

He wouldn't harm me though. "I was the thread that bound him to this world." according to him. He probably would have tried taking mine if not.

I'm going insane, whenever he is near I can barely stand it, I feel like I should shred my skin and peel my very own face off.

This is why I decided to tell you all about him.

I was his only prey for so long... until now. I gave him a name, you can give him a face.