Monday, October 18, 2010

Agent and Shaman on a Storm Tossed Sea

Scenes are exactly that, brief original scenes that may or may not evolve into something in the future.


The ship slammed violently through another giant wave and Kinley hit the rail hard.  He gripped his pistol tightly and turned his face away from the line of sleet scything across the deck of the ship.


The storm muffled the authority behind the shots.  Kinley glanced behind him.

“Dolores, is everything in order?”  he called.

“Keep going, TW!  I’ll keep them occupied.  You have to stop that madman before he completes the ritual.”  Dolores yelled back over the storm.

“You call this a ritual?”  Kinley shouted in reply.  Another splintered and crackling sheet of lightning skittered through the inky clouds above.  “Looks more like a madman trying to crash a ship full of explosives.”  Kinley squinted through the rain and straightened himself out.

“Regardless to what you think, he is a lunatic and we have to stop him.”


She fired into the night again and yelled through the wind, “Go!”

Kinley pulled himself forward, one hand holding his hat to his head and one steadying himself on the railing.  

“This thing is pitching like a toy in a tub,”  he thought.

More frayed lightning ripped through the darkness throwing brief illumination on row after infinite row of twelve foot gun-metal gray waves.  The storm consumed the sounds of Dolores holding back the madman’s followers.  Ahead, Kinley could see a shape coalescing out of the dark.  The madman, who calls himself a shaman, Kinley thought, was perched on the prow of the ship.  Even from where he was Kinley could hear the shaman screaming incoherent nonsense at the storm.

The shaman’s cadence rose and fell with the pitch of the ship.  Every few sentences he raised his hands in the air and howled.  Lightning split and snapped through the sky with each howl.  

“Coincedental,” Kinley muttered.  Drawing closer Kinley could finally make out the small bowl in the shaman’s hands.  “I have had about enough of this,” he said to himself.

The ship threw itself through another tremendous set of waves and Kinley was nearly tossed down again.  The shaman remained unmoved on the prow, still chanting gibberish.  

“Reis!”  Kinley shouted into the wind.  “Game’s over, Reis!  You are coming with us.”  He pointed his gun at the madman.

Reis stopped chanting just long enough to call over his shoulder, “While I would love to banter with you, Agent Kinley, I am a bit occupied.”  He raised the wooden bowl over his head again and again the night split with lightning.

“I am armed, Reis!”  Kinley warned.  “If you don’t stop capering about I am going to shoot.”

“Do that and you lose the bowl, Agent.” Reis howled again and a sheet of lightning burst directly overhead.

“I don’t give a shit about your little toys, Reis.”  Kinley squeezed the trigger.


The bowl exploded out of Reis’s outstretched hands.

“Holy crap,” Kinley thought in surprise, “I actually hit the thing.”

“Noooooooooo,” Reis screamed and whirled around.  Reis had his long beard tied into a series of knotted tails and his eyes blazed with malicious light.  “You fool!  Noooooooo.”

“Humph,” Kinley muttered.  “Rituals...”

Then a giant flash of searing bright light and a wall of noise and pain slammed Kinley from his feet.

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Geek - Gamer - Librarian - Writer. Only awesome at one of those things at a time, unfortunately.

About Fading Interest

After writing op-eds and travelogues for several years, after finishing a few books, and after failing to get the ball rolling with project after project I stumbled into an idea that might just hold my interest long enough to enjoy some level of satisfaction with my writing.