The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

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TheTeddyguy
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Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby TheTeddyguy » Mon Mar 21, 2016 5:42 pm

"What was your first kill?"

Teddy: "I shot an ASF member defending myself and my friends."
Matt: "I shot a woman to save my friend."
Malorie: "I shot an ASF Captain while three years old to save my dad."
Valerie: "I held my knife out and a guy accidentally walked into it and I didn't mean to and oh **** what have I done?"

Good post.
"**** it, it's late."-Coins "Change it later."-Teddy
"She had a face like a bulldog licking **** off a nettle."-Jingles
"so he resigned himself to dying in a trash can."

tyrud
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Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby tyrud » Tue Mar 22, 2016 12:02 am

If you were curious as to what the inside of the herbarium actually looked like:
http://www.herbarium.lsu.edu/facility.html

Valerie's attire:
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/73 ... c91685.jpg
"Humankind cannot bear very much reality." ~ T. S. Eliot
(⌐■_■)

TheTeddyguy
Posts: 14687
Joined: Sun Jul 24, 2011 4:03 am
Location: Writin' or Jeepin'.

Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby TheTeddyguy » Tue Mar 22, 2016 12:05 am

*Short man to the rest of his group*

"Everyone, some woman dressed in the latest fall fashion just killed Robbie and took off!"
"**** it, it's late."-Coins "Change it later."-Teddy
"She had a face like a bulldog licking **** off a nettle."-Jingles
"so he resigned himself to dying in a trash can."

TheTeddyguy
Posts: 14687
Joined: Sun Jul 24, 2011 4:03 am
Location: Writin' or Jeepin'.

Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby TheTeddyguy » Tue Sep 06, 2016 2:39 am

*Shudders in disgust that this hasn't been updated since March*
"**** it, it's late."-Coins "Change it later."-Teddy
"She had a face like a bulldog licking **** off a nettle."-Jingles
"so he resigned himself to dying in a trash can."

tyrud
Posts: 8772
Joined: Fri Nov 12, 2010 12:33 am
Location: Flipping All Your Tables

Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby tyrud » Tue Sep 06, 2016 3:09 am

I'm a few days away from posting the next part. I've been working on it everyday for like 2 and a half weeks (not as much time to dedicate it). Would've posted it sooner, but I didn't want to split it into two parts. Don't worry, I think it'll be worth the wait.
"Humankind cannot bear very much reality." ~ T. S. Eliot
(⌐■_■)

tyrud
Posts: 8772
Joined: Fri Nov 12, 2010 12:33 am
Location: Flipping All Your Tables

Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby tyrud » Sun Sep 11, 2016 6:06 am

Chronicles of a New Age:
What Spring Brought

[Friday, April 4 2014 - 3:17 PM
Bayou Sorrel, Louisiana]


The coming of winter didn't mean a lot in a place like southern Louisiana. Though the heat became a little milder and it was easier to walk around for extended periods, it still rained with some frequency and it still felt hot when the sun was out and unobstructed. Not that it would've changed anything in Valerie's head. Though the conditions were more favorable, her experience in Baton Rouge had wiped any desires to leave the swamp from her mind. For a time after she had accidentally spilled that man's blood, she did nothing but wallow in self-pity and remorse. When hunger and thirst finally drove her to action, she worked to forget what had happened. It was hard, very hard, for when she closed her eyes at night all she could see his blood on her hands alongside his wide eyes and desperate expression. Eventually, she managed to forget, or at least focus on other things enough to start living her life more normally.

She focused even more on her gardening and spent hours poring over the books in the study, as well as hours drawing and observing the plants she collected. She practiced moving through the trees even more. She wasn't much faster in the trees than she was on foot, but her balance was getting better and surely she would get faster over time. It was clear this swamp was her new permanent home, as things didn’t look like they would change or get better. Thus, she worked on aligning herself with her surroundings. When winter was over and spring came, the temperature grew hotter, but Valerie was better attuned. She wasn't the same woman that had fled into the swamp months ago, and she was rapidly mastering her environment. Soon she would secure a level of self-sufficiency her old, sorry self in the apartment in New Orleans could only dream of. Things were looking up for her as the swamp grew more lush and vibrant. But as most know, the spring thaw meant more than the awakening of the flowers of world. It also meant the awakening of its beasts as well.

The hours prior to Valerie venturing out to look for more herbs hadn't been very eventful. She had woken up a little later than she usually did and after having a modest breakfast, she practiced balancing on the tree limbs and moving between branches until it was time for her to have lunch. She treated herself to a thin soup that she prepared herself and enriched with spices. As a result of making the soup, however, she had to go out and get more ingredients to replace the ones she had used. She decided the weather called for a blue plaid shirt, jeans and low cut sneakers and topped off the outfit with a black hat. After rolling her sleeves up and grabbing her bag, she headed outside and walked west, deeper into the swamp. She looked around carefully for the things she needed, as well as any new plants she might have missed on prior expeditions. She stuck to the ground this time, moving slowly and methodically as she looked. A few times prior she had encountered a stray cannibal or two, but she always heard them before they could get close since she moved quietly and they moved clumsily and loudly. This wasn't often, however, and this time only the birds and bugs were calling out. The swamp was a serene place, and every time she went out, Valerie couldn't help but feel at ease. Sometimes it made her nostalgic and sad, as she remembered her old job in the botanical gardens. She still found herself wishing she could go back to that time, and see her co-workers, friends, and family.

After being out for a couple of hours, Valerie found some of the plants she had been looking for, but she figured she'd have to go to another part of the swamp to find the ones she was missing. As she walked through the forest, intent on heading home, she caught a glimpse a snake darting across her path into the roots of a nearby tree, startling her. Once she had composed herself, she looked the tree over and noted a few mushrooms at the base that she recognized as edible. She stooped over and picked them up before taking a moment to admire a butterfly that was gathering nectar from a flower nearby. It had her undivided attention as it departed, fluttered near her and then flew up towards the canopy. She stared at it, transfixed by its colors and envious of its ability to live without many cares in the world, a luxury not afforded to her. She pulled her eyes away from the creature, embarrassed that it had distracted her so thoroughly. She took a step to start walking home when she was violently pushed against the tree and kept pinned by someone she couldn't see. She didn't know what was going on at all when a blade of some kind was suddenly embedded into the bark of the tree mere inches from her face, eliciting an audible gasp from Valerie. She froze when she focused on the blade and realized why it looked so familiar.

"I think you dropped this." she heard a man's voice say from somewhere right behind her. Before she could even think she was turned around and found herself staring at a group of six or seven men of various ages and races looking back at her. It was the man in the middle who almost made her shriek, however. It was him, the man she had killed months ago, except he had no wounds on his neck. He showed no signs of being dead. In fact, he looked very much alive, and very unhappy.

Valerie’s head started spinning and she grew nauseous as her insides tightened. This was probably for the best just as well, because the man took a step forward and punched her in the stomach with significant force. Valerie was entirely unprepared for this and collapsed to her knees before rolling over into a fetal position. The blow knocked all the air out of her, as well as the hat off her head. She remained curled up, gripping her stomach in pain with her eyes barely able to open as the men formed a loose circle around her. An impending feeling of doom overcame her as she started hearing the conversation around her.

"Is she the one, Porter?" she heard the same voice ask someone nearby. From the little she could see, the man she thought she had killed was crouched down next to her. She felt as he put a few fingers under her chin and turned her face towards someone, presumably so they could get a closer look.

"Yeah, that's her. You can't forget a face like that." Through her watery eyes she couldn't really see who was looking at her, but she recognized the voice as belonging to the older man who had found her after she had accidentally stabbed man who was now crouched next to her. The whole situation was absurd to her. She wanted to ask so many questions, but she refrained from doing so, mostly because she physically couldn't. She heard someone catcall before speaking.

"Damn, Porter. You didn't tell us the girl you saw was a damn model." a third voice said.

"No kidding. What the hell is she doing out here alone? You sure there ain't no one else out here?" asked a fourth voice.

"If there were, we woulda seen 'em. No places to hide behind around here." yet another voice said. Valerie couldn't help but whimper. She felt helpless, like the whole world was getting bigger and she was getting smaller, and that the crowd of men was only growing even though it really wasn’t. She hoped wildly that this was all just a dream of some kind and that none of this was actually happening.

"Hey Roscoe, whaddaya say you let us have a little fun with this girl? I'm wondering if the rest of her has stayed that creamy in all this sun. I bet she looks good under that nice shirt of hers." someone else jeered. The words terrified Valerie, but her body was paralyzed and didn't respond to her desire to try and run, like it knew in spite of her desperation that it wouldn't work and would only make things worse.

"No, that'd be too good for her." the man who was crouched next to her said with a severity that no other man in the group seemed to share. "No, this one here... she's mine and she's going to get exactly what she deserves for killing my brother."

When the man called Roscoe said that, it seemed as though timed stopped for a fraction of a second as all the pieces suddenly clicked into place in Valerie's head and all the answers to her questions were laid out in front of her. This man who was crouched next to her, his handsome features offset by his dead, hazel eyes that effused anger was Robbie's brother, and his twin brother at that.

"What the **** are we supposed to do then?"

"Stand in a circle and jerk each other off for all I care. Just don't bother me, and don't get in my way."
Roscoe answered. He was clearly here for a singular reason, and while he had clearly stopped her from being sexually assaulted, Valerie knew he hadn't done it to protect her. This was confirmed when he grabbed her long hair and started dragging her away from the other men. It was a painful trip for the next few minutes as Valerie tried her best to stand and just keep her body off the ground, but it was nearly impossible. Any attempts on her part to get free prompted Roscoe to pull harder and walk faster, which worsened the journey.

When Roscoe felt he had gained sufficient distance from the others, he let go of Valerie's hair. Valerie tried to get up and run, but she didn’t get very far. The pain coming from her body was too much, and she was only able to get on all fours before a swift kick to her gut dropped her straight to the ground with a grunt. Once again she reverted to a fetal position, almost unable to move. Another kick like that would've caused her meal earlier in the day to come up, but Roscoe didn't repeat the action. Instead he paced erratically around Valerie, and had the appearance of child in the middle of a tantrum.

"Why?" Valerie managed to get out. Her voice was meek and it was difficult to make anything out amid her sobs, but Roscoe had heard her because he stopped his pacing very suddenly and answered as he looked down at her.

"After you killed my brother, I asked the same thing. Why, world? Why'd you have to take my damn brother!? Why'd you take away my flesh and blood, the only family I had!? Nobody had an answer. No one, except you." He crouched down and stared at Valerie, his eyes severe and empty.

"So tell me? Why'd you do it?" Valerie stared back at him with her mouth half open as she stammered, stumbling through her own thoughts. She felt awful for more than one reason, and it was made worse by Roscoe staring so intently at her. Behind his dead eyes she could see genuine sorrow and a fiery desire to get to the bottom of something. Finally, she choked out a mostly coherent sentence that was cut up by her own crying.

"I-i-it was... an ac-accident. I didn't me... to do it."

"You're lying!"

"No, please. It's true, I... I'm so sorry, please! Please..."

"It's not true! Why would you run if it was an accident?"

"I tried to help him, I really did. But there wasn't anything I could do, and then the shooting started, so I just ran. I ran and ran and I felt awful for weeks. For months! I didn't want to kill him, I didn't! Please, don't make me suffer anymore!"
At this point Valerie, who had struggled to get up onto her knees, broke down into tears and was pleading with Roscoe. He paused for a moment, clearly in thought as he scrutinized what he had been told. Without warning he slapped Valerie, who recoiled and turned away holding her face, the shock cutting short her weeping.

"I spent so many weeks looking for you. After so many false positives where I thought the person who killed my brother had turned up, we finally found you. I was expecting something different, you know. Some big reason for why he was killed. Now, here we are. All of this effort, and I have my answer. A pampered college model killed my... my damn brother... by accident, and she's the one who's suffering. Now that's **** cute."

Valerie shakily looked back at Roscoe once the sting of the slap had subsided. There was no longer any curiosity or sadness that she could see. There was only one thing; rage. He grabbed her and tossed her, with Valerie's light frame tumbling a few times as she hit the ground. Roscoe proceeded to beat Valerie with a series of kicks, slaps, shoves and punches. As he treated her like an eerily beautiful rag doll, he yelled things at her the entire time. Some of the things he said were simply obscenities. At other times, Roscoe declared that he was fed up with the world and that he resented that gangs, the government and the zombies could just kill without any repercussions. Most of it was simply incomprehensible, and Valerie could understand less and less of what he was saying as her mind went numb from pure pain.

Eventually Roscoe stopped attacking her, at which point she was little more than a shaking mess. She could hardly breathe and her whole being was in agony. She wondered seriously if anything was broken or if the inside of her body was bleeding. It was impossible to tell as everything hurt equally. She couldn't get up and she simply wished it would stop. While a part of her felt she deserved what was happening to her and that she should've expected something like this to come back to her, it didn't make the pain any more bearable.

"No more... no more." she faintly repeated over and over again. Whether Roscoe heard her or not was doubtful as he started speaking about something more in line with what he had been saying before.

"My brother didn't do any wrong. He hadn't hurt anybody and he was just trying to survive like the rest of us. I'd do anything to put him back on Earth, hell I'd kill anyone and everyone to have him standing right here. But I nothing I do will bring him back, I know that. So I'm gonna do the only thing I can do and end your miserable existence so you can't kill anybody, on purpose or by accident, ever again."

Roscoe walked over to Valerie and grabbed her by the back of her shirt. Standing her up, he half walked, half pushed her over to a nearby creek. It was a rather deep creek and he walked in until both they were both waist deep in the water. The water was cool but not clear as it was full of silt and other sediments.

"Feels almost like a baptism, huh? Almost. Enjoy the water while you can, cause my guess is there's only going to be fire where you're going."

"Wait! Don't do thi-"
Valerie tried to interject as she realized what he was going to do, but she was cut short. Roscoe pushed her until her head was under the water. Immediately she began to panic and she started kicking up a fuss as she tried her best to hold her breath and not drown. Roscoe certainly didn't make it easy for her, standing his ground and holding her in place under the surface by pushing down against her shoulders. Quickly running out of breath and time, felt around and found Roscoe's arms and grabbed them. She then gripped his arms tightly, trying to dig her nails as deep into his skin as she could. She drew blood that flowed down Roscoe's arms into the water.

"Damn!" he exclaimed, loosening his strength enough for Valerie to poke her head out of the water and take a breath.

It was only a momentary respite as Roscoe pushed Valerie back under with even more force, this time grabbing hold of both her wrists. With one in each hand he held her down and this time she was unable to fight back at all. She could've tried kicking her feet around, but she feared losing her sense of which way was up. In any case she scarcely had the energy to really try fighting back. In spite of all the pain, she could feel her lungs burning and crying out for fresh air, but there was nothing but murky water for them. She didn't want to breathe in, but eventually she did so instinctively and she started choking. Though she had no real strength, her body nonetheless jerked violently. She didn't go anywhere but she kept up the struggle until she felt the iron grip on her wrists evaporate. She immediately broke through the surface of the water once nothing was holding her.

Although she could hardly see where she was going, she knew which was up and which way was down. Still coughing and finding it hard to breath, she made her way to the shore amid splashes and screams that she couldn't process at all. With eyes half closed and her vision distorted horribly, she managed to find the shore and toppled onto the ground. Throwing up water and whatever remained of her meal from hours ago, she felt dizzy and breathed shallowly. Very slowly, she regained some situational awareness and looking towards the creek she saw blood mixing with the murky water. Roscoe was missing and she searched for him nervously.

She eventually found him, though not how she expected to. Covering her agape mouth with her hand, she looked on as two alligators tore at Roscoe's maimed corpse. A few others slowly approached the body and Valerie couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't lying there with him. It wasn't normal for the alligators to attack people, but perhaps now with the cannibals scaring away many of their normal food sources, hunger drove the alligators to attack. This theory seemed to have significantly more substance as two individual alligators from nearby started swimming in her direction, rapidly closing the distance between themselves and the shore. Valerie struggled to her feet and limped away holding her gut, intent on simply fleeing back to her grandparents' house.

[5:20 PM]

After a while of trekking wounded through the area, doing everything to make her path as unpredictable as possible, Valerie finally made it to the house. She found it unoccupied, as she had left it, and couldn't help but feel some relief. It wasn't much relief, however, as she was still thoroughly in pain. She walked into the only bedroom and after closing the door behind her, she stood in front of the full body mirror on the wall. She looked completely haggard. Her clothes were dirty and even ripped in places. Her hair was a mess and she was still soaked from the creek Roscoe had dragged her into. She undid the buttons on her flannel shirt and pulled open the two sides, revealing her abdomen which was covered in unsightly bruises where Roscoe had kicked her repeatedly.

She stared at her wounds, breath shaking from pain and despair. But something else was also slowly rising within her as she looked on. Her eyes burned with a ferocity she hadn't seen since her decision to leave her apartment. She fell to her knees, her hands pressed against the wooden floor, and screamed. The frustration and anger had boiled over inside of her and she released it the only way she could. She thought about what Roscoe had said and how close she had gotten to dying and how she didn't fight back at all, and it infuriated her. She had decided to fight back once before, but she had grown complacent and reverted back to her former weak self after she had killed Robbie by accident. She thought she could avoid it all, and live in peace but no matter how much she tried to run away from the world or her actions, they would always come back to her. Whether it was the zombies looking for a meal, bandits looking for supplies or new whores, or even vengeful and hurtful individuals they would find her.

This encounter had made one thing clear in her mind; this would never end. Not until she was dead or the rest of the world was well and truly dead. Roscoe was dead, a victim a food chain most people were oblivious to before the apocalypse, but his cronies were still alive and they would certainly not stop hunting her. Even if they didn't come after her, something else would surely come along that would try and end her existence. As she got up and slowly made her way into the hallway, she stopped to look at the portrait of her younger self. Indeed, hiding wouldn't work, so she wouldn't hide anymore. Instead, she would fight, and she would fight savagely.

[Saturday, April 5th - 1:16 AM]

The night was calm and the weather could be considered cold as far as Louisiana could be concerned. Roscoe's crew were all positioned around a fire, with most of them asleep. Still awake and keeping watch was the oldest man in the group, Porter, and another man who was much younger. He went by the name Ashton and was scarcely twenty years old. He was the youngest man in the group and looked rather scrawny with brown hair, but he had a boisterous personality that made up for it. The two were reflecting on the day's events as they stood on guard.

"I still can't believe that **** got away again." Ashton said, his voice rife with irritation. "She wasn't **** when she was whimpering on the ground."

"We shouldn't have stayed and left Roscoe alone. One of us should've gone with him." Porter said. His voice was off, as if though he was somewhere else, as he took a drink of liquor from a flask. Robbie had died on his watch, and he couldn't help but feel guilty over Roscoe's death now too. "Stubborn ****."

"She killed his brother, man. His own blood. Wouldn't you want to make it personal too?"

"Knowing I'd be dragging along six other lives too, I don't know."

"What I know is Roscoe had that girl dead to rights. She must be **** clever for her to disappear while Roscoe ends up in a gator's mouth. We didn't even get to enjoy her. Your description of her didn't do her any justice, Porter."

"Well sorry if the details I gave didn't get you nice and hard, you deprived piece of ****. You can at least pretend you've seen a woman other than your mother before."

"**** off, Porter. I was **** swimming in pink in high school. Anyway, I hope we find her tomorrow. Roscoe won't be around then to kill the fun."

"What the hell are you talking about? We aren't going to find **** tomorrow."

"What the **** are you saying, Porter?"

"Listen kid, this little obsession of Roscoe's has cost us months of food, supplies and time. All for what? So that the girl gets away and Roscoe's dead with his brother? We already lost Josh and Robbie a few months back, and now Roscoe. This adventure is over. Tomorrow, we're getting the **** out of this place."

"Like hell it is, Porter. We'll see what the others have to say, but there's no way they're going to let this go either."

"We should've never gone chasing after a damn witch anyway."

"This girl's smart, but the others who were saying that are **** stupid. Witches and curses? Don't tell me you believe in that ****, Porter?"

"All I can say is, I didn't used to believe in zombies either."
Porter answered with a frown. While the others in the group had seemed to be fascinated and attracted to Valerie, Porter had been reluctant to give chase and pursue her. His initial knee-jerk reaction when he saw her hunched over Robbie was that she was a cannibal. But once she looked up and he saw her eyes, green as gems, he was left with a strange impression that lingered even after he chased her away with gun fire. It made him hesitant to support Roscoe's obsessive hunt, which he couldn't help but feel wasn't natural or normal as they spent more and more time focused on this single goal. In his eyes, it was for the best that Roscoe's obsession had killed him, as it was unlikely he could change back once he had completed his ambition. Porter just wanted this to end once and for all, without anyone else having to die.

"I'm gonna go ****. Keep your eyes peeled."

"Whatever, old man. Just don't fall asleep standing up."


Porter ignored the comment and walked away from the group and the fire towards some nearby shrubbery to relieve himself. He took another sip from his flask, something he was doing more and more of these past few months, but that he figured would cease after tomorrow. He laid his shotgun against a tree and then proceeded to undo his fly and pee. He focused on the sounds around him, which were mostly the sounds of frogs, insects and other nocturnal creatures when he noticed a much angrier sound. He searched the ground as he heard the hissing sound of a snake somewhere beneath him, eyes squinting to see anything. He fumbled around with his zipper, imagining he had accidentally aggravated a snake when he felt something go into his back. It felt like someone had set his back on fire, but he had no time to react as more spots on his back erupted in pain over and over again until everything went dark.

Ashton had lit a cigarette and was waiting for Porter to return, his agitation growing the longer he took, since he had no one to talk to while on guard. Roscoe's death had made him grow even more restless than he usually was. Though he didn't agree with Porter, the man had a point in that every day they had spent searching for this girl had been a day they hadn't really focused on their own survival. As a matter of fact they had gotten themselves into rather dangerous situations in the process. Thus, while he wanted this to be over too, he wasn't willing to just let the girl live.

"What the hell is taking you so long, Porter? Did you remember you had to **** or something?" he whispered sharply. He turned around, but didn't see Porter where he expected him to be.

"Porter? Porter!?" he called out, but got no response other than the ambient sounds of the swamp. After tossing his cigarette, he walked over to Reggie and tried to wake him.

"Reggie, wake up. Porter went to **** and now I don't see him." Ashton said as he shook his comrade, who pulled away from him angrily without getting up.

"Go find that drunk **** yourself, Ashton. In fact, don't even try so you won't spend the rest of the night **** talking."

"**** you too, Reg."
Ashton said as he watched Reggie roll his back towards him.

Ashton stood up and walked over to here he last saw Porter. When he got to the shrubs, he saw a dark spot nearby. Crouching over, he touched it and felt a wet but thin liquid between his fingers. As he tentatively put his fingers near his nose, the metallic smell was a dead giveaway, but like Porter, Ashton didn't have a moment to react when he was jumped upon by something above and behind him. He fell face first against the ground and then could feel as his head was picked up and something cut across his throat, with liquid flowing down from the wound. It hurt like nothing he had ever experienced, but he couldn't yell out. When whatever was on him got off, he spun around, his hands reaching for his throat instinctively. He didn't have much time, but he wanted to see who or what had attacked him. His suspicions were confirmed as he eyed the brunette girl they had found earlier in the day. In the light of the crescent moon, her eyes met his, though his could really only express fear as all his machismo melted away in the face of her fiery visage.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." Valerie said softly, cocking her head to the side. Dressed all in black, she would've been impossible to see her without the moonlight. "No comment on what I might look like shirtless?"

"You should be happy. At least you're going to go rather painlessly. I can't say the same thing about Roscoe, or the rest of your friends."
Valerie continued as Ashton said nothing. She lifted her hand and shook a closed vial of something that was impossible to make out in the dark. "How deceiving plants can be. So benign, and yet so deadly."

"What... are... you?"
Ashton coughed out as he continued to bleed out, his life rapidly approaching its end.

"I thought about what you and the other man, Porter, were saying. You're right, there are no witches. At least, there weren't before. After tonight there will be, because you've all made one."
Last edited by tyrud on Mon Sep 12, 2016 1:00 am, edited 1 time in total.
"Humankind cannot bear very much reality." ~ T. S. Eliot
(⌐■_■)

coinsruledude
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Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby coinsruledude » Sun Sep 11, 2016 1:28 pm

Good post.
"You can only talk rubbish if you're aware of knowledge." ~Karl Pilkington
"**** it, it's late. Change it later." ~Me and Teddy

TheTeddyguy
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Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby TheTeddyguy » Tue Sep 13, 2016 12:28 am

Solid origin story wrap up right there. Helps explain Valerie's nature pretty well.
"**** it, it's late."-Coins "Change it later."-Teddy
"She had a face like a bulldog licking **** off a nettle."-Jingles
"so he resigned himself to dying in a trash can."

tyrud
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Joined: Fri Nov 12, 2010 12:33 am
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Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby tyrud » Tue Sep 13, 2016 12:38 am

I'm glad you both enjoyed it. It felt a little bit like a 'deus ex machina' cop out to have the gators kill Roscoe, but I couldn't really think of any other way in which the story would follow the same arc, but still allow Valerie to live.
"Humankind cannot bear very much reality." ~ T. S. Eliot
(⌐■_■)

TheTeddyguy
Posts: 14687
Joined: Sun Jul 24, 2011 4:03 am
Location: Writin' or Jeepin'.

Re: The Shifting Tide: A short by Tyrud

Postby TheTeddyguy » Tue Sep 13, 2016 12:46 am

I expected either a hero zombie, or for her to go limp and him assume she's dead but she's not.
"**** it, it's late."-Coins "Change it later."-Teddy
"She had a face like a bulldog licking **** off a nettle."-Jingles
"so he resigned himself to dying in a trash can."


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