I wrote this when I was greenly fifteen and the darkness of its nature tells of my own mental state. It can be considered reasonably coherent if disjointed and out of tense.
The whole thing is supposed to be a troubled dream of both the past and future for the character, but it came out mostly past.
Trying to write at the time was like drowning, I couldn’t keep a clear view of events. I believe I edited the first eight percent of it or so before forgetting about the rest for sixteen years, but this comes to you almost exactly as I wrote it back then.
Nick Strike was a nom de plume I had worked out for myself, because I thought it was cool. As I have said before, I wasn’t that bright.
28th December 1994
A Silk Cloth Soaked In Hate
by Nick Strike
Above the earthly skies a battle wages. In a flash of flames half of an alien craft crashes towards earth, the moon turned red and the light of stars broke into colors of a grim rainbow. The explosion is heard planet wide. In its center a distorted onceman's metal mask is shattered and the face beyond is of metal and it to falls to the ground. Behind it mounds of scar tissue are seen.
An 18 year old boy sits up in bed the night-mare he has seen left him sweaty and petrified. As his mind cleared he renumbered the death of his family just hours ago. A race of fly like creatures had attacked his little town and they had him to....
He goes into a transient state and remembers the time just hours ago, where his family was slaughtered. He remembers the faint typing of his computer. The sound of information being stored on a disk is music to his ears as he smiles in triumph. He pulls the disk from its slot and puts it in an iron box, obviously fire proof. He walked across the concrete floor, carrying the box as if it were pure gold. He lifts a crow bar that sat beside him, setting down the box. He quickly went to work lifting an enormous slab of concrete and setting it to the side. He lifted the lid of a trunk which was in a separate room beneath the concrete floor. He closes the lid of the trunk, locking it tightly, and then sliding the concrete over.
As if a miraculous recovery from a horrible disease he leaped up. Seconds before he touches the ground, he is caught by an explosion and barred into the far wall. Despite the force set out upon his body, he stands up. Flames dance about him as two hideous creatures with four arms and an extremely large, long nose hurl themselves from the flames toward him. He dodges the first and meets the second with his fist. It falls to the ground, screaming in agony. He stops for a second, examining his hand and marveling at his extreme power. The skin on his hand is torn by the collision of his hand against the alien rib cage. The next attacks him from behind but he quickly pulls the alien over his head as if it were a rag doll. And before he knew what he was doing, the alien body is crushed into the concrete.
He looked at the alien bodies. They were crumbled down, dead. Suddenly, he remembered his family, and he streaked toward the door on one of the walls. He hit the door before he could stop himself, and tore through the heavy wood as if it were paper. Suddenly he was surrounded by the creatures.
Instantly he jumped to combat, but he was overwhelmed. His last waking moments are of his family burning too death.
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