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Colonel
Posts: 8,441
Join Date: Dec 2003
Location: Goatse
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Short Story By Meh! -
01-05-2005, 12:37 PM
This is a short story I wrote for english last year, its not my best but its gf1.com quality dance: ! Any way, its the mostly true story of the worst day of my school skitrip, for me. Enjoy, ladies
Ski Break
"Oh crap!" he moaned as his skis began to slide down the side of the mountain, for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last hour. Daniel began to claw at the frozen ground as he meandered farther from the class, down into the valley. For the past three days, ever since he tried on his first pair of skis, he had fallen incessantly. His furthest ride without falling had lasted a mere 15 meters, nothing to write home about. He had fallen a quite staggering number of times without the skis, as well.
"Danny, you must position yourself like I have shown you! Get your legs straight, then position your poles on your links und rechten sides, then hold them up, and pull!" shouted Florian, the instructor, wearily. The class began to shift in boredom,
"Oh, come on," moaned a girl in a bright green coat.
Daniel wallowed for a few more minutes before Florian took him out of his misery, gliding down the hillside, and skidded gracefully to a stop. He jerked him up, and set him on his feet. He slid down the hill, the class forming a line behind him.
"Drive, drive drive!" he shouted back to the class. This was a beginners class, so he went slowly down the hill, zigzagging, turning tight corners, a little too tight for Daniel.
"Snow plow, snow plow" he yelled as he turned. Daniel began to drift out of the tracks left by Florian, until he lost all control and flew straight down the hill, passing students in a blur as he went...
Ten minutes later, he and Florian had been disentangled, a snowmobile had come to take Sarah to the hospital, and the class had arrived at the chair lift.
"Okay, everybody find a lift buddy!!" shouted Florian over the din of the great machine. The class suddenly became a swirling mass of shrill students, and just as quickly stopped, leaving all but two kids clutching the arm of another. The two without partners were, naturally, Daniel, who had become infamous for tripping anyone else in the chair as he dismounted, and Sebastian, who had been Sarah’s partner until recently.
"Danny, Sebastian, you two are good, ja?" He turned away before either could say any different, and positioned himself in front of a lift chair. Six more groups got into chairs, leaving Daniel and Sebastian, who glared at Daniel, knowing what was in store for him once they reached the top. Surprisingly, Daniel had no trouble getting into the chair this time.
Their skis touched the steeply sloping ground, and Daniel lifted the bar that had held them in for the trip up. He felt a hand holding him back, and looked down to see Sebastian’s hand pushing him into the seat, as he slid smoothly out of the chair, and away. The lift moved fast, and the ground was a meter below Daniel’s feet as he jumped out, and landed wobbling on his feet.
"Danny, you are good?" Florian shouted from the mesa twenty meters away.
"I- I’m good," he muttered. Florian took off down the slope, the class following him. Daniel started shaky, and it got worse from there. His feet flew in front of him, and he began to roll down the hill, cursing and wincing. He stopped himself, and watched one of his skis slide down. He took his other ski off, laid on his stomach, and began to slither towards it, tobogganing on his belly. He caught it, and skimmed down to the next plateau.
He stood up, and kicked his feet, until the boots were clear enough to put into the locks. He sighed in frustration, then started toward the class. Wherever they were. He looked around, panicky, and saw no other skiers on the mountain. He was used to seeing skiers watching his one man slapstick routine. He saw no path markers. He went the only direction he could logically assume they went: downward.
After the first few rocks grated underneath his skis and he swerved his first tree, it dawned on him that he was not on a path. He fell off his skis as he looked around wildly, and jumped up onto his feet instinctively. He abruptly sank down to his chest.
He clawed at the snow, desperate to release himself from the icy, dragging clutches of ice. Tears streamed down his face as he lost feeling in his fingers and toes.
"I’m going to die out here," he moaned to himself, barely above a whisper. He stretched his hand as far as it would go, his fingers brushing the side of his ski. He stroked it, until it began to move closer, and he grabbed it. His hand brushed the bladed side, which tore through his glove and into his hand. He yanked it back, blood gushing, turning the white powder pink.
After several minutes of standing in the snow, cradling his torn paw, he went completely numb. He felt suddenly as though he were floating high above the tree line, watching himself flounder in the hole, and felt warmth and peace wash over him. He saw all the people he loved, and suddenly shouted, "No!" which was sufficient to liberate himself from his hallucinations. He pulled his ski towards himself, and used it as an anchor to get out of the pit.
He gathered up his skis and poles, and threw his backpack off and ripped it open. There was a sweatshirt in there, and he tore at the sleeve until a ragged ribbon of cloth was in his hand. He bound his scored palm with it, stemming the harsh blood flow.
He spent several minutes fighting his feet back into his skis, then continued his descent into the darkening abyss.
He went slowly, maneuvering himself around trees and rocks and drops. The cold bit his face, his nose, his ears. Mucus drained from his nose, running down over his lips and into his mouth. His breathing became more erratic with every passing breath, his focus on his goal becoming foggier with every step. Soon he felt no direction, no rationality, thought nothing, only to keep plodding on through the cruel black.
He became engulfed by the monotony, and only the disturbingly close howl of a large animal was enough to shake him of his numb movement. He shook himself awake, and tried to follow the scurrying sounds, the rustling of brush, the pitter-patter of soft fur against the dense powder. He gazed at the length of his pole, the end of which was a blunt point. He held the aluminum shaft over his head, prepared to strike.
The attack came from behind. He felt the weight of the beast press into his back, and he fell forward. He lay helpless, his skis locked onto his feet, holding him down. He felt the hot breath on his neck, and the damp nose press on his scalp, teeth playing along the hairs on the back of his neck. All the while, Daniel had the pole in his hand, trying to find the release lever on the boot locks of the ski. The blunted point caught, and he pressed down, heard the loud click of hard plastic beating against hollow metal, and swung himself over, his weight crushing the wolf into the snow. He kicked the predator as it jumped up, claws in his leg, blood pooling around the creases in his pants. He suddenly let the pole loosed, whacking the brute creature in the snout. It reeled, then attacked again. Daniel thrust the dull tip of the rod at the animal, piercing its flesh at the neck. The wolf was weakened, but continued on its attack. It threw its head at Daniel’s, He grabbed it by the jowls, pushing it away as it pressed on to make the killer blow. He could feel its breath steaming in the fraction of an inch separating them, the beads of moisture breaking on his cheeks. The teeth nipped at his nose, and its yellow eyes burned into Daniel’s, hypnotizing him. Its tongue snaked out to taste him, to sample the blood dribbling from his nose. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, and twisted his hands, turning the monster’s head around, and he winced as he heard the bones shearing apart, and the dog yelped. Daniel held its head for a bit, then dropped the body on his lap.
He lay there panting for several seconds, when he heard more wailing nearby. It was a whole pack. He shook the dead weight off, and lifted himself up, replacing his skis, getting ready to dash away as fast as he could. In a circle around him converged several pairs of yellow, gleaming eyes. They closed slowly around him, sniffing about calmly. He was paralyzed with fear. Tears poured down his face, he muttered to himself shakily. The lead wolf came straight at him, teeth bared, fur stained in dry blood and rotting flesh. Its snarls sent spasmodic chills down Daniel’s back, and he prepared himself to fight them all off.
His pole, the one he used to kill the first wolf, lay by his feet. He slowly bent to lift it, and as his fist closed around it, the wolf vaulted at him, and snapped at his face. Daniel reeled, and brought the his other pole down on the wolfs head with all his might as he fell, shattering its skull. The other wolfs charged at him, and he brought his hands to his face defensively, to stave of the attack that never came.
He heard the tearing of flesh, the crunching of bone, and the cacophony of wild animals fighting over meat, but he was unharmed. He looked about. The wolves were eating their own dead. Blood and gore flew about, the animals snapped at each other at random, and the snow was crimson all around. He quietly got up, anxious not to disturb their vigorous feasting, and glided away.
He must have been hallucinating again. He heard a mechanical whirring overhead, and instinctively hid from whatever had come to hinder his trek home. From the trees, he looked up to find the source of the threatening noise, and saw lights in the sky. A helicopter. It passed over the trees in a blur, a gust of cold air hit, and it was gone.
"No! Nein!" he screamed hysterically as the bulbous mass flew off. "Come back! Please!" he voice was getting hoarse fast. He took off down the hill as fast as he could, skis wobbling, but he stayed up!
"Don’t leave me here!" The helicopter vanished into the distance. Daniel wailed desperately after it, his eyes so blurry with tears, his shrieks of protest ringing so violently in his ears, that he didn’t notice the snow mobile until he had collided with it.
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Short Story By Meh!
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