Writing Class - My First Short Story Assignment

Hi folks, to start I am working on a conversion and so far it's almost done, but I ran into an issue where I had made something but didn't like how it was so I went back and redid the whole portion that wasn't meeting my expectations.  The conversion in question is the Strider character class for Starfinder, its based off of the "Strider" video game from Capcom.

Conversion in the works!

In other news, today I will be posting some of my college work.  I know that you all come here for the conversions and original content for tabletop RPGs, but I do occasionally break away from things.


Below is part of an assignment we did for the first week of class.  The first part of the assignment required that we sit down and pick four words or short phrases that one may use to start a chapter, or short story.  I chose "Scar".  Now this is a very short piece of fiction on my part, and not a complete story.  Currently the class this week is about either enhancing upon this initial start or to start a different story.  The writing here at home is limited to about 60 min, but who can keep track of time when you get into your work.

With that said, here is the start of what will be an evolving short story for the class.  Keep in mind this is a First Draft of the story, so it will lack details that will only be filled in as time goes by.

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Scar

It itches, and sometimes there are pin pricks of pain. No one ever said that a scar was fun, especially the goose egg of one that he had on his chest. There was a story behind it of course.  There’s always a story behind a scar, but his wasn’t anything exciting or dramatic. It was easy enough to tell people that he’d gotten it in the Army, or that he’d been stabbed – poorly – during a mugging.  This would have all certainly been far more dramatic than the truth.

The truth was that as teen he had taken his dog for a walk, and she had seen a squirrel and bolted on him.  Unfortunately, he had the leash wrapped around his wrist and was quite unprepared for the sudden jolt of speed that came with the dog’s urgent need to chase the fast-moving quarry.  She dragged him for a few yards through gravel which had ripped his shirt and tore at his skin and left one spot filled with bits of gravel and dirt.

He had thought that the wound had gotten cleaned out years ago, but as age took its tole it felt like this wasn’t the case.  The dark pink scar itself wasn’t egg shaped either but was in fact more like that of a guitar, oddly enough.  The man rubbed at it as he stared at himself in the mirror of his bathroom.  Most of the time it was fine but then came moments or even days where the scar itched or felt like needles were being driven into it.  He picked up a bottle of hydrocortisone cream, got a dab from it, and applied it to the irritated raised skin.

Behind him the door opened, and he turned to…see himself…

Odd, the man that he faced was indeed himself, but at the same time there were some minor inconsistencies with this flesh-and-blood mirror image.  First off, his face bore a long-curved scar from his upper lip that curved around and past his left eye.  The doppelganger was also clearly far more athletically inclined than him.  The most interesting thing about him was the pistol he was holding.  Of course, the man with the scar on his chest noticed this lastly and too late.

There was no bullet so much as a brief beam of light that the pistol emitted as his doppelganger leveled the weapon and fired it.  It hurt, but only for the briefest of moments as the shot hit the scar he had just examined and passed through him.  It would have been ice to know why he’d been shot, why he had a homicidal twin.  But he’d never know, his vision faded, and he heard the person close the door and walk away.

“THIS IS MOST INCONVENIENT.”  A voice said from seemingly everywhere.  It was a voice that echoed and was deep and was the sound one may associate with the term ‘foreboding’.

The man opened his eyes, or did he, he wasn’t exactly sure since everything seemed to now feel all weird. There was really no way to describe the way he felt.  His vision filled with the room and a figure with a black cloak with a hood pulled up and over a skull that seemed to be frowning. Could a skull do that?

“EVERYONE HAS AN APPOINTED DATE, AND THEN SOMEONE COMES ALONG AND BUGGERS THE WHOLE THING UP.”  The being that had to be Death said.

“Sorry, but did I just kill myself?”

Death looked up and regarded him now.  The dark sockets of the skull seemed to be full of stars with two pin points where the irises of the eyes would be shining brighter than the others. His robes seemed to be fabric, but so black that light didn’t seem to touch it.

“IN A WAY. JOHN ANDERSON YOU HAVE DIED BEFORE YOUR TIME AND BY A VERSION OF YOU WHO HAS BROKEN THE RULES!”  Death said with an emphasis on the rule breaking.

The man, John, looked down at where his body lay and at his own ghostly visage.  He then looked at death and…well he didn’t feel anything oddly enough.  Maybe he should have felt angry, or sad, or something but he oddly enough wasn’t bothered by any of this.

“SOMEONE IS BREAKING THE RULES, I AM GLAD THAT A DEATH HASN’T –“ Death started but then another Death was suddenly there and imbedding its scythe into this Death, “OH BUGGER!” His Death said before vanishing in a puff of smoke, or was it shadow?

The new Death seemed the same save the presence it exuded felt different.  “SORRY ABOUT THAT, BUT IT WAS NECESSARY, ONE OF US HAD TO BREAK THE RULES AS WELL.”

John folded his arms and sat down on the toilet.  For a moment he thought he would fall through. Death regarded him, then turned and looked as another Death suddenly appeared next to him.  Well he may as well wait and see how this turned out as well, who knew how many more times this would repeat.