New, and excited to be here.

PorterStarrByrd said:

...How about a few paragraphs of your writing that you are proud of. It'll really help us know you and at least one of your styles a bit better.

Not trying to scare you away but it's ever too early to stop being bashful. I promise that I won't critque it on the forum and doubt that anyone else will.

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PorterStarrByrd said:

... I would keep most of the f-bombs and vulgarity out of it.. close to G would be good to avoid offending anybody

I'd think the only restrictions to what you post would be those inflicted upon you by the other site.

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"N-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o...!" I shouted – my voice slow and drawn out. My body acting on trained conditioning felt like it was stuck in a low speed unable to move any faster as my hand wrapped around the handle of the Magnum, my index finger weaving over the trigger as I pulled the handgun free from its hiding space. Out of the thousands of times I've done this before this felt like the first ever time as I flicked off the safety and took aim. The target was Vincent yet I couldn't help but glance over to the boys – Landon still laying on the floor and Nick trying to use his body to cover him while looking at – and holding his hand with spread fingers out to Vincent, the ultimate look of fear and realization in his eyes.

Just squeeze the trigger. My mind guided me as the rest of the world faded away leaving just me and the target. My finger curled slightly, bit by bit, centimeter by centimeter until a loud blast thundered in the space and the gun forced itself back ever so much into the grip of my hand. Still seeing everything in slow motion I could see the bullet slipping away fast, further and further until Vincent looked my way and took aim. God (censored)! No it can't be...! My mind raced when I realized that my aim was just a hair off causing the bullet to merely graze Vincent's arm.

"Son of a (censored)!" He shouted just before another shot rang out. Waves of searing pain flooded my body, my right shoulder feeling like it was on fire. The gun in my left hand suddenly feeling very heavy as I dropped to my knees and fell onto my back on the floor. I tilted my head to the side forcing myself to keep my eyes open.

One blink; Vincent turned his attention from me to the boys.

Two blinks; he took aim at the boys again. "Now get into HIS car so we can all go home!" His voice low and seething, so methodical that I knew what I had to do next.

Three blinks. (censored)Bryce get up and save your kids! You can't stop now! You promised them you'll always keep them safe...that you would die to protect them, but you can't die, you WONT die! You have to rescue your kids! My mind barking – demanding me to do it.

Four blinks; I grunted mustering what little strength I had to raising the gun and dead-aimed. My finger repeatedly flexed over the trigger. A series of loud blasts boomed. I kept pulling the trigger until the shots subsided and the slide locked back indicating it was out of ammunition.

Five blinks; Vincent's body dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap of flesh. I rested my head seeing no further movement from him, only Nick looking around. My hand went limp causing the gun to clatter against the floor. Sirens in the distance rang out as dozens of booted footfalls lumbered into the warehouse. From the shadows, dozens of heavily armed and armored S.W.A.T. Units flooded into the area. In all the confusion Nick managed to help Landon up and both scrambled over kneeling down beside me. Yet I couldn't do much as my body went limp and a floating sensation overtook me, the world as I saw it started fading.

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After moving the gas cans in logical placement, Chance took a few moments to take one last look around the home. Part of him wanted to make sure he didn't forget something, the other part just wanted one last look. With a heavy heart, chance clomped up the steps and to a gas can at the far end of the hall. Keeping his mind clear, the boy picked up the heavy weight, pulled off the cap and started spilling the fuel around all the bedrooms and along the hall floor then down the steps. He tossed the now empty canister to the top of the steps and turned to the kitchen.

Once there, Chance opened the second canister and repeated the process of pouring the gas in the kitchen and around the dining room where he made sure to use a good heavy dose of fuel. With that canister empty Chance tossed it aside and went to the living room and the final container. He had to stifle the tears and sniffles as he emptied the last gas can around the living room making sure to overlap the fuel at the stairs and in the dining room. A smell of raw fuel filled the house and for the first time, the stale air and odor of dried blood mixed into a gagging stench making it hard for Chance to breathe through his nose.

Chance moved to the door and stepped out far enough to be on the outside. He wiped tears from his eyes before reaching into his pocket to retrieve the book of matches. He pulled one from the pack, lit it and stared at the small flame with a child's wonder. He then brought the one match to the book.

"Rest in peace, family..." He spoke lighting the entire book of matches. "...goodbye, bad memories." With this, Chance chucked the book of matches into the house.

The reaction was instantaneous; a vwhooosh sound accompanied a flash of bright orange flames that spread along the fuel path. Even as the heat danced at his body Chance stayed in place to assure his plan didn't fail. When the heat became too great, Chance backed away until he stood a good distance from the house. In the night time he could clearly see an orange glow from the second floor windows. His plan was indeed in full motion and could not be stopped now.

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