ERA ONE.
FUCK!!! FUCK!!! No no nonononono....
For all that is holy why didn't I shoot myself!
The mission was a success, still is a success I guess, but that bastard, that absolute scumbag fuck rascal, had something like that in his back pocket...
Shit!!! Fuck no! please let this be a dream.
The first contingent if your about to be hit by a timestop wave is: don't. Shoot yourself before it reaches you. That was the first thing I ignored, Dave was trying to breach the door when our takyon counters went off. His gun had been damaged in a skirmish with some druids in the hanger, so he bolted. But I saw the wave coming, blue opal, like an incandescent curtain. I only had a moment to think, was I out of range? The time stop has a limited distance and some people have even been rescued on the very outskirts. I took a chance...
Fuck I'm so stupid... why me? Why was I even born?
I shot Dave, or rather I shot at Dave. I would've hit him... I will hit him. The path of the bullet is clear but it hangs in the air, taunting me endlessly. Sometimes I think I can see the infinitesimally slow turn of the rifling in the air; it would be the only proof that any time has passed,but I know I’m just fooling myself.
The second rule is to close your eyes; no one knows if it helps, but I wish I had did it. I could have imagined myself somewhere else, instead I'm making eye contact with Dave for the rest of time.
ERA 2
Its not a trick its not its not, shot made contact it did it did daves gonna die nonononono finally finally shit fuck shit ishtisshaidofoalsd Not Fair not Fair.
I’VE BEEN watching it turn turn turn, I knew i did I knew I wasn’t Crazy I told you I did its been creeping ever closer ever closer crawling across the air I begged it to stop to come back to me, to hit me, i want to die I want to die but not dave not dave not alone not alone not this not alone dave push it out make it leave your head stop kissing it with your forehead skin please dont do this please dont cant leave me dont leave me dont let me be alone you fuckin nastard fuacking asshole why didnt I shoot myself shot me shoot me shott me I opashflksadkl hfdsk JNSDOAkl Please do it do it do it dont leave dont leave dont leave please stay.
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ERA 3
Two and Two fourths hundred Trillion 5 hundred and thirty one billion eighty six million nine hundred and ninety six thousand and one four hundred and 3...
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Two and Two fourths hundred Trillion 5 hundred and thirty one billion eighty six million nine hundred and ninety six thousand and one four hundred and 4...
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Era 3, time time and more time
Two and Two fourths hundred Trillion 5 hundred and thirty one billion eighty six million nine hundred and.... and
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start again...
one
two
three
four...
Prologue.
“Captain!! Time Stop!!” Peter called back to me from around the corner, shit. Immediately I shot out my hand. “Hold position!” My unit clattered to a sudden stop behind me. I took a deep breath and waited.
Suddenly a soft bouncing noise rebounded from down the hallway. Then the loud boom of a pistol. The noise turned into a sharp ringing as it built and then popped. It was a low grade, probably only a three or four on the hodgenkins scale. I motioned my unit forward, Peter and David were vangaurd, two men only one shot...
Diaz checked the corner and after a moment motioned the rest of us forward. I prayed that one of them made it out, that the other one had died quickly; but god was not so merciful today. David was slumped to the ground, brain matter pooling underneath him; Peter just stood there, gripping his pistol with shaking intensity.
“Private Mclaughlan!, Sounds and Hands Soldier” But he just stood there, head and body still, until his face and hands turned purple and then he began to shake. With a sudden shuddering he took a breath; he had forgotten how to breathe. He turned slowly to face us, his eyes rattling randomly in their sockets,taking in everything with reckless abandon. His mouth open, stretching to its limits, before he snapped down on his own tongue.
A screech emerged as he felt out the pain and sensation.
Diaz raised her rifle...
Poor Bastard.
About the Creator
Griffen Helm
Griffen Helm; Writer of Things.
Fair Warning my work can be pretty violent, rude, lewd, and explicit; including themes of depression suicide, etc.
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