Some Old Backroad

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by ButterMonkey, Nov 27, 2011.

  1. [No fantasy of any kind: RealWorld RP]
    Billie exhaled a loud whistle. He tossed his hat onto the down tailgate of his well-loved '95 F150 and used the back of his right hand to wipe sweat from his brow. The early afternoon sun was a bright yellow smudge in the sky. its rays beat down in waves of humid, hot air. The young man had removed his shirt hours ago and his bare skin was a shade of pink that indicated the burn would hurt later. Wood chips from the fallen maple, dirt from the gravel road, and oil from the chainsaw speckled his muscular chest and arms.

    Jason Aldean blared from inside the extended cab but it was obscured by the rush of a fast moving stream nearby. Billie had been out here in the middle of nowhere since 5 a.m. He was on his way to his brother's house in the next county after a double shift at the fire house when this maple tree elected to be in the middle of the road. Normally, Billie would put it in 4wd and go around but this was different. To the left of the dirt road was a steep bank down into a fast moving bed of water and to the right was a giant stone wall that looked as old as the land itself.

    Billie strode around to the cab and set the chainsaw with its gas can behind his seat. He then cranked up the stereo when Lynard Skynard came on then moved to the pile of freshly cut chunks of fallen maple. Billie was proud of his whistling abilities and, though he was alone, put on show anyway. Slinging wood and whistling his head off, Billie continued to get the job done.
  2. It was late afternoon by the time Billie had cleared the road. He had several splinters, an aching back, and a truck full of wood to show for his efforts. With a quick glance over the area, Billie was content to cool off for a while. He sauntered down the steep bank to the stream. On the edge of the water, he plopped down his two hundred pounds and began to splash his face, chest, and arms with the cool water. He hooted and hollered like the country boy he was. The water was a wake-up call and a refresh on his spirit.

    Hard work never killed anybody but it damn sure made a man tired. Thanks to this little delay, Billie knew he wouldn't be reaching his brother's house until noon tomorrow. This was a troubling thought and the young man furrowed his brow in contemplation. He rose back to his feet and began the not-so-fun hike up the short but steep hill. A few wayward rose wines tore at his flesh and crimson as pure as the petals formed in tiny drops along his left torso and right arm. Trivial and virtually painless, thorns were more of a nuisance than anything else.

    Once he reached the road and his trusty pickup, Billie stopped before mounting the driver's seat and hauling ass. His bright blue eyes were drawn to the wall where the tree came into contact with it. There was a large crack running vertically and a few random pieces of debris became apparent. The tanned up Billie strode around the big white truck and towards the anomaly in the stones. As he drew closer, he began to squint. the sun was setting and twilight always gave him problems. He claimed the fading light played tricks on his eyes. After a few more steps, he brought his muscular frame to a halt. He leaned over and moved his face in close to the wall. It was unnaturally cold for something that had been basking in the sun for the last few hours.

    "Holy Mother of God!" Billie gasped out as he fell backwards into the dirt and gravel. He scampered around to his truck in a manner that one might think him insane [or on fire]. He drew out a long black case and flung it open. His hands clenched the stainless steel within and drew forth his Mossberg 500 Mariner's Special [12 ga. Shotgun, pistol grip, pump, short barrel]. With the trained eye of a hunter, Billie scoured the area as it grew darker and loaded his gun. Once this operation was completed, he hopped in and turned the key.

    The starter squealed and the engine whined almost to life and then did nothing. Billie tried again. This time, all that happened was the clicking noise of the starter. there wasn't enough juice to push the bendix gear [probably because someone left his radio on without the engine running]. Billie punched his fist into the steering wheel several times. He rolled up the windows in his truck, grabbed his gun, keys, a flashlight, and his Bowie knife. he locked the truck and slammed his door shut.

    He knew there wasn't a home on this road in either direction for ten miles. Billie also knew the stream didn't lead anywhere populated. With a cringe and a sharp smack of his palm on the back of his neck, he walked slowly to the wall that had sent him running only moments before. He shined his light on what had terrified him. The lumens revealed several long and fleshless fingers protruding from the crack. It was as if the lifeless hands were trying to escape. Goosebumps ran up his spine and Billie, with a hard gulp, climber over the wall and into the night.
  3. Henry never liked the darkness so he couldn't remember why he agreed to go on a camping trip in the middle of the wilderness. With no lights. All day He and his friend set up camp and search for supplies like men! Well not exactly.... Henry ended up finding a badger and running in a direction he couldn't quite recall. So now he is sitting in the middle of a forest with the sun slowly going down. Mocking him. The young man finally decided it was time to sit down and stop wandering like an idiot and found a nice rock. Finally resting he took off his backpack (right about now he was thanking God that his friend forced him to bring it) and inspected the cuts on his body. Red angry marks that burned a little bit adorned both his arms and half of his face making Henry really itchy.

    Sighing he ran a hand through his black hair and rummaged through his backpack for a first aid kit. When he heard shuffling he stiffened and shot up looking around. Ignoring his discomfort Henry's hand in the backpack came in contact with a pump flashlight that he whipped out and began furiously pressing the pump to light it up. Zipping up his backpack he threw it on his shoulder's turning in place illuminating the semi-darkness that reached the forest and his almond eyes scrutinizing every little thing that moved slightly. His mind began making up worst case scenarios and how to get out of them, but sadly all he could think of was the result of him dying. Alone and in the dark. He began to move when he realized he almost stepped off of a cliff and knelt down watching the trees for any sign of threat.
  4. Jeremy drove his bright red Lamborghini down the old back road, nodding to the redneck he passed by on his way to meet up with his friend Henry. He drove off road onto where they planned to meet, but Henry was nowhere to be found...

    This would be an interesting night, indeed. Henry's friend was here though, and Jeremy planned to investigate.
  5. Henry called out to see if anyone was around. He hoped to had that no one was goinng to kill him. He rushed to the middle of the clearing and sat with his knees pressed to his chest. What a sight that might've been, a grown man huddled on the group scared out of his wits.
    "I shouldn't be here," he said to himself "I should be at home, in bed, with the city lights" he looked up to see stars coming out "And of course I can't see the moon, stupid trees" he said shuffling around. Pouting he stare at the darkness.
  6. Henry shuffled in his spot before jumping up. He couldn't sit in the middle of a forest anymore feeling vulnerable. He began to walk in the direction he came from. For awhile he walked in a straight line.