Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-13937974-20140407204809

I wrote this for an english essay about two years ago and I've decided that I might publish it but I'm not sure if its the kind of story that you would post on this site. You do not have to read the whole thing. Any help or advice is welcome, thanks.

I had never really enjoyed my line of work if I am to be quite honest. It was boring, tedious and the hours (literally) kill me. Looking at me you wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary. I live in a small flat in a normal area. I dressed casually in a pair of jeans, a bland shirt, sneakers and a hoodie. I watch TV and I have a small circle of so called friends. I work in a small shop that sells just about anything to do with sticking pieces of paper togheter (paper clips, staples, etc). Well it was my pretend place of work but because it sold such an unnecessary and unused items it gave me the perfect camoflauge for my real job. At this point you have become bored at the sight of this and have decided to click onto the next story on the website but for those who have stayed, I thank you and so I will tell you my story and what it is that I work as.

I should probably start from the beginning which was a terribly long time ago. I was born in a small town in Belgium which has probably been burnt to the ground since I was last there. It was a large place with both medieval and modern houses (for that time). I think it was the year 1710 when I was born into this world. I was an odd baby to say the least. First of all I had been screaming when I was taken out of the womb rather than crying. Second of all I was moving a lot. I was throwing myself from side to side as the friends of my mother tried to hold me still. Unfortunately my mother died during birth and so my father was left to look after me. I had a normal childhood although I had trouble bonding with people my age. I found them boring and rude. I was often bullied during this time and although I was small and skinny, I was also extremely fast. I could run faster than even the adults (Which came in handy when I was approached by the bully known to all the children as 'Musher') Musher was basically the stereotypical bully that you see in cartoons. He looked and talked like a gorilla. When annoyed or woken by the teacher during class he would grunt loudly to the amusement of the other students. My first major encounter with him had drastic effects on my life.

I remember the day well. I was seven years old and it was my last day in kids school and sadly for the the other less intelligent children, their last day forever. I had made the idiotic mistake of having too much pride. Even when I was just one years old I had shown extreme signs of intelligence. I could already walk, form small sentences, count and add small numbers toghether. On the last day we had a small half hour test on what we had learned this year. Of course I had passed the test with full marks. However, Musher had failed badly. As we left to enjoy our summer, I decided to talk to Musher one last time before I left for further education in France. He was in the courtyard kicking a small rock around the ground. I walked straight up to him knowing I could get away quickly if he attempted to attack. I have translated this from French for you convienience.



'Afternoon Mushy' I said with confidence

''What did you just say?'

'Oh nothing, nothing.....Mushy'

He straighted up and strode right up to me, my face only centimetres from his chest. Had I been able to feel fear, I would have defacated myself then and there.

'Would you like to apologise for that?'



'The only one who should be apologising is your mother for giving birth to you'

This really pushed his buttons and for the first time ever, I had been caught. Before I could run he grabbed me by the collar and punched. I can still remember the feeling of his fist smashing into my cheekbone. The nerves in my face fired up as I was flung to the ground. Before I could react huge arms gripped my shoulders. I was lifted to my feet and punched again, this time in the stomach. As I doubled over a knee was sent flying into my face. I would like to say that I drifted off into unconciousness then and there but I could endure much more than the average human. My beating went on for another 10 minutes until he became bored and left for the summer carnival. I layed there for a while, wallowing in self-pity before I got up. I walked home and as usual my father was no where to be found unless you walked into his office or anywhere I was not. I knew he resented me. Thats probably why I was so relieved when I was given permission to kill him. I looked in the mirror to examine my wounds. Plenty of blood and bruises but thankfully nothing was broken. As I washed up I began to grow tired and I decided to take a nap. Not the smartest thing to do with a potential concussion but I didn't know any better. I remember waking up to an extremely quiet and deliberate sound. As some of the more experienced readers might have guessed I had better than average senses. I could tell the difference between the sound of wood cracking as it expanded with heat and when someone was walking around the house. My first guess was that it was my father although it was much too late for him to be arriving home as whoever it was was definetly wearing shoes. I sat up in bed as the bed made a near inaudible ruffling noise. However the person in the house stopped moving. It was eerily quiet until I heard footsteps approaching my door. At this point I began feeling something strange inside me. It was not sadness or anger but something that I had never truly felt before. Fear. I had only two options. Attempt to fight and fail or flee through the window. I chose the second. I quickly skipped over to the window and opened it. I looked out down the road to see the lights from the town still shining, filling me with a false hope. The footsteps had stopped but I knew that whoever it was, they were outside my door. Until I turned around to see my door was open. My room was not very big and so there were few places that anyone could hide. My wardrobe was much to small to fit even me into it and there was no space under my bed. I began to break into a sweat. I walked slowly and carefully towards the door. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I made my way down the hall. I reached my hand towards the knob on my front door. Suddenly a cold feeling began to spread from the back of my neck. I stumbled before I fell into unconciousness.

I woke up in the living room. I had been knocked out before and I knew that I shouldn't feel like I had been. I felt awake and not at all drowsy, it was if I had blinked and had just teleported into the living room. The funny thing was, I did not feel afraid anymore and I never was again.

'Please don't over-react, I mean you no harm' whispered a voice from the corner.

I looked over and saw a man. He was huge. At least six foot five and heavily built. He wore a large coat and heavy boots.

'Who are you?' I asked curiously.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'I am Vespian, servant of Death' he replied, his voice was soft and kind. I only now realise why I did not run or try to escape but at that time I felt very relaxed.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'What do you want?' I asked.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">He simply pointed to the floor. I looked down and saw myself face down on the floor with an arrow through the back of my neck. There was no blood. I glanced over myself, my alive self, to check that I was there and not some ghost thing.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'Don't worry' He said 'You're okay, Clamate'

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'What's going on? Why am I dead? How do you know my name?' I asked, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'You are dead in your world, but here you are very much alive' He answered. I was about to interrupt however he put up a hand up to silence me

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'Allow me to explain. You are very special my boy. I'm sure that you know that by now unless you are very modest. As you know I am a servant of Death. My job is to offer someone the chance to be pre-kiled so that they can avoid an even more horrifying death and I kill those who pose a huge threat to humanity'

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'So you killed me so that I wouldn't die horribly or so I wouldn't kill anyone?'

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'No, I killed you because you shall become another servant of Death. See, we cannot just let anyone become a servant, you have to be unique. You are special,child.'

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'So why did you kill me?'

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">'You have two choices. You can become a servant or you live out your life as a normal yet exceptional human'

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">Note-If there are any spelling mistakes then I can easily fix them

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm"> <ac_metadata title="Starting out?"> </ac_metadata>