Okay, this is it–the very first time I attempted to write down a story. Remember the little green composition books we got in school? Well, apparently I salvaged my little brother’s Health notebook to write in. I was, I believe, twelve.
Are you ready for this?
Jorb flicked his cigarette into the grass and put his head in his hands. (because all cool heroes smoke. And litter.) The repairs had been long, hard work. Jorb walked around the ship once more.As he neared the ramp some sixth sense sent a shiver down his spine. Jorb whirled, pistol in hand. There was nothing there. Jorb edged toward the ramp, his eyes searching every shadow.His foot was on the ramp when a figure burst from the woods, running towards him as if for dear life. Jorb brought his gun up, but held his fire. It was a girl, and two bounds behind her was a thing that looked like a grey blanket. As he watched, it sprang into the air over the girl’s head and floated down like a net. He fired. There was an inhuman scream, and the girl nearly flew up the ramp next to him. Jorb followed quickly and hit the lock behind him. (because blankets can open doors…)
The girl leaned on a wall panting for breath. Blue eyes blinked at him, and a full mouth pulled into a tremulous smile. She was nearly a foot shorter than he was, slim and well-built. Tangled black hair fell to her waist. (gee, was this the summer I was so bored I read twenty Harlequins?)
Jorb stepped back. “I’m Jorb Lang. This ship’s the Centurion’s Pride.” She nodded, still smiling, but didn’t answer. (ah, a woman of mystery…) “I was about to lift off.” He glanced at her tattered crewman’s uniform. “Need a lift back to civilization?” (duh!)
She nodded again. Jorb led the way to the cockpit.
Jorb sat in the pilot’s seat and was surprised when she sat in the co-pilot’s and started checking gauges. He started warm-up. “What’s your name, anyway?” he asked casually. (kill the adverb! Kill! Kill!)
(oh, God, can I take much more?)
“Kari Siln, and thanks for saving me. I’ll thank you for the lift when I’m sure I’m not dreaming.” She smiled at him.
“How long have you been stuck here?”
“I don’t know. I was shot down in ’15. How long’s that?”
Jorb whistled. “Six standards.” He flipped a few switches. (switches???) “How did you manage that long?”
Kari adjusted a gauge. (How?) “Luck, mostly. My training helped a little.” She looked up at him. “Are we ready to go?” she asked. For answer, Jorb opened the throttle. (uh…yeah.)
“You said you were shot down. What happened?”
“I was a system locator for the Democracy. I located this system and was scouting the second planet when I was noticed. I didn’t have much chance to look, but I’m sure they were Corlan fighters. I’ve never had more fun than when I got those three. (Mary Sue, anyone?) The fourth got me. Ever had your ship blown out from under you? It’s a blast.” (Mary Sue or not, I like her.)
It goes on a few more pages, but I don’t think I can take any more. *cringe* Oh, that’s bad. That’s so…bad. The Centurion’s Pride survived–sort of. It’s the ship Eve was living on when the war started. And the name Kari–except in Eve’s universe, it’s a planet.Be glad I never tried to write down my daydreams of the girl who lived in a tree and devoted her life to saving horses from the glue factory. Heroically, of course, in a Rainbow Warrior kind of way.