Desucrate
Golem
A little story I've been working on. After much thought I've decided to put it hear to get your opinions. This is a heavy work in progress and WILL be updated in the future (probably).
NOTE: AS THIS IS A WIP I HAVE NOT INCLUDED THE TITLE OF THE STORY.
ANOTHER NOTE: AS THIS IS LITERATURE, SWEARING WILL BE INCLUDED IN THIS, I'M NOT MY USUAL SWEAR FREE SELF.
ONE FINAL NOTE: NO INDENTS ARE INCLUDED IN THE FORUM VERSION, THERE ARE INDENTS IN THE ACTUAL STORY (I swear
)
PREPARE!
NOTE: AS THIS IS A WIP I HAVE NOT INCLUDED THE TITLE OF THE STORY.
ANOTHER NOTE: AS THIS IS LITERATURE, SWEARING WILL BE INCLUDED IN THIS, I'M NOT MY USUAL SWEAR FREE SELF.
ONE FINAL NOTE: NO INDENTS ARE INCLUDED IN THE FORUM VERSION, THERE ARE INDENTS IN THE ACTUAL STORY (I swear
)PREPARE!
'Ouch. My head hurts like hell.' I think as I wake up. I must've drank a whole lot last night to be hurting this much. I pull myself out of bed, looking around my apartment. The whole place has wallpaper peeling off, with a slight odor of rotten food to it. Light comes in through the windows, which are covered with grease and dirt. The kitchen has a basic stove, with even more grease and only 3 working burners, a fridge that's door only opens halfway, and some cabinets with various food and ingredients inside. Going to wake up my roommate, I enter his room with a loud clunk, as the door into it refuses to open. “Hey Leon, wake up man.” I say at him. “No way John, I've got a hangover..” He tells me. “So have I, deal with it.” As Leon gets up, I go to make some coffee. When I open the cabinet, all I see are some scattered filters and beans. No coffee today then. Leon strolls into the room, with blue around his eyes. “Hey, Leon, did you get any sleep last night?” “No, not really, probably one, two hours at most.” “Seriously, you need to sleep more.” “Nah, hearing you complain wakes me up fine already.” “Shut up.”
I get ready for work; a simple office job, some business that deals with home tools as far as I remember. I'd be fine working to kill all Nazis, or stopping terrorism, as long as I get paid. As I wander out the front door to our apartment, which at this point is more of a window, I shout to Leon: “Make sure you actually look through the jobs on the paper this time Leon, I can't support us both with you unemployed.”
Leon and I don't have a car, so I end up having to walk a mile the 4 days a week that I work. It's tiring, but at the very least it's exercise. When I get to work, what I see is a small 3 story building, with only 7 employees. It's shabby, but it works. 'Gamberg's Home Tools' is printed on large, purple letters on the building's front. Entering, I find Theresa, one of my co-workers. If I'm not mistaken, she works on making sure our internet stays up. She has azure eyes, a small nose, and a small amount of lipstick on her, again, small lips. Her hair is long, brown, and are wrapped up messily in pigtails, which go down to her chest, covered by a simple gray shirt and yellow sweater vest. Unsurprisingly, she's wearing simple blue jeans; she's never been one for being formal. “Hi Theresa. How's your day?” “Pretty good John, how about you?” “Good as usual, I guess.” “Grumpy as always, got it.” I go over to my desk, at the back. On it is probably the
tiest computer I have ever seen. One of the CPU fans don't work, which means you have to use an external fan to even get it running, and even then it's difficult;
the power button doesn't like to press down fully, which means that you have to apply large enough amounts of force to make you feel like you're crushing the computer. After that's done, you have to wait for it to boot for five or six minutes. When it turns on, I get to work, clicking icons and pressing keys on my keyboard.
After about an hour of working, I spot a group of 6 policemen outside, most likely speaking about people speeding and how they should all die or something. I ignore them, getting back to work. Thirty minutes later, Our door is kicked down.
CHAPTER 2: ASSAULT
Four cops armed with shotguns enter the room, telling everybody to put their hands up. I don't, but instead hide under my desk before they spot me. They line everybody up into a line on the wall, telling them that the company was plotting against the government and that we were suspects in helping them. One of my co-workers attempt to run. Attempt to. He's instantly gunned down in a spray of bullets, with a pool of blood surrounding him. The rest of my fellow workers murmur swears and racial slurs. “Why are you doing this to us? We don't know anything about the company plotting anything!” Another friend asks with a voice that shows that she's given up.
I get ready for work; a simple office job, some business that deals with home tools as far as I remember. I'd be fine working to kill all Nazis, or stopping terrorism, as long as I get paid. As I wander out the front door to our apartment, which at this point is more of a window, I shout to Leon: “Make sure you actually look through the jobs on the paper this time Leon, I can't support us both with you unemployed.”
Leon and I don't have a car, so I end up having to walk a mile the 4 days a week that I work. It's tiring, but at the very least it's exercise. When I get to work, what I see is a small 3 story building, with only 7 employees. It's shabby, but it works. 'Gamberg's Home Tools' is printed on large, purple letters on the building's front. Entering, I find Theresa, one of my co-workers. If I'm not mistaken, she works on making sure our internet stays up. She has azure eyes, a small nose, and a small amount of lipstick on her, again, small lips. Her hair is long, brown, and are wrapped up messily in pigtails, which go down to her chest, covered by a simple gray shirt and yellow sweater vest. Unsurprisingly, she's wearing simple blue jeans; she's never been one for being formal. “Hi Theresa. How's your day?” “Pretty good John, how about you?” “Good as usual, I guess.” “Grumpy as always, got it.” I go over to my desk, at the back. On it is probably the
tiest computer I have ever seen. One of the CPU fans don't work, which means you have to use an external fan to even get it running, and even then it's difficult;the power button doesn't like to press down fully, which means that you have to apply large enough amounts of force to make you feel like you're crushing the computer. After that's done, you have to wait for it to boot for five or six minutes. When it turns on, I get to work, clicking icons and pressing keys on my keyboard.
After about an hour of working, I spot a group of 6 policemen outside, most likely speaking about people speeding and how they should all die or something. I ignore them, getting back to work. Thirty minutes later, Our door is kicked down.
CHAPTER 2: ASSAULT
Four cops armed with shotguns enter the room, telling everybody to put their hands up. I don't, but instead hide under my desk before they spot me. They line everybody up into a line on the wall, telling them that the company was plotting against the government and that we were suspects in helping them. One of my co-workers attempt to run. Attempt to. He's instantly gunned down in a spray of bullets, with a pool of blood surrounding him. The rest of my fellow workers murmur swears and racial slurs. “Why are you doing this to us? We don't know anything about the company plotting anything!” Another friend asks with a voice that shows that she's given up.
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