My names Danny but you can call me Sarge :p I picked the username because i use it for a lot of things, you know, one of those things you just pick up and use. Im 13, almost 14 and i look 15. Complicated, i know, try being me ^.^
I've been told I'm a decent writer, but that wasn't enough for me. No, I'm not athiest about my own creativity, well, I am, I just like double checking somtimes
That and it would be nice to communicate with other young writers.
So thats the basic intro over and done with xD To summerise; Hey, ill be sticking around the site for a while
Ive written a short story to go along my welcome thread, to show people what type of writing style I prefer. Please, please, PLEASE give me feedback, negative or positive. If you get bored, tell me. If you feel i am writing in the wrong style, tell me
Enjoy
The suburbian streets of South London wheren't the ideal location to go for a stroll. But Johnathon Mills didn't plan for any strolling. Looking over his shoulders every ten seconds, John's beady eyes scanned the area for possible ambush points.
Paranoia, in John's opinion, was a gift. It meant to him that he wasn't careless, always on the ball, always ready for anything to happen.
The heavy raincoat he was wearing kept him warm, but it slowed him down, which was as bad as it could get. Speed was of the essence here, and time was short.
Heavy boots jogged from up ahead, sounding like they where heading straight for him. Straining his eyes to see what was headed towards him, Johnathon side stepped into a small back garden, and ducked behind a garden hedge.
Street lights could only shine light so far. Tugging the raincoat from his arms, he threw the heavy clothing into a bush, trying to make as little noise as possible. If there was going to be a chase, he wanted the upper hand of speed.
The sound of boots went silent. Suddenly, all the lights in the street shut down at the same time. They must have known where he was.
Leaping up from behind the hedgerow, John pulled out his pistol and aimed at one of the shadowy figures torso. The gun was silenced, as not to wake up the neighbours, but its weakness was its high pitched whistling sound would wake every dog up in the block.
John squeezed the trigger. The satisfying puff off smoke that erose from the gun was friendly to him. Whatever he hit, it grunted in a low moaning voice. This was normal, But john couldn't stick around. Chances are the other soldiers must have heard him.
Jumping up to run, bursts of fire erupted from behind him. His eyes raced as fast as his legs, looking for any advantages towards his escape. He had been running away from soldiers like this for weeks, John had gotten used to escaping chaos.
A large dumpster by the side of a bungalow house caught his eyes. Sprinting towards it, John leaped up ontop of it and launched himself on top of the bungalow. Luckily, the distance between the houses in the row was pretty short, enough to jump across.
Hopping between houses, John took a quick look behind him at his enemy. They where nowhere to be seen.
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