Monday, December 10, 2012

The Chevaliers


1939, night covered an unknown town in Germany. There seemed no one awake yet upon a rooftop was a silhouette of a dark dressed figure. He stood from the city like pillar. The leader of the Chevaliers: guardians over France.  
The faint rumble of many vehicles became louder as a German convoy rolls toward the village. His eyes have never left it.
The convoy carried men and boys captured for the treacherous Third Reich military.
The Chevaliers mission was to free them.
His hand rose from his side in a signal.  
Statue like figures, in the same clothing, came from the homes across him. Eight in all; his siblings where ready.
Roof ash shuffled under foot behind him: Another. His gaze was off the convoy.
“Mathieu, are we ready?” a soft voice floated to his ears.    
“Always Richesse,” Mathieu answered his hand dropping as his sister’s warm hand came to his shoulder.
“Watch Joie, will you?” she said.
‘I always do.” He turned to face her. Looking past her and putting on a grin he nodded to his brother who had just come upon them, “I even watch Marc here.”
Deep laughter hit the air, “Even with your numerous talents, Big brother…” Marc said, “I can still beat you with the old Excalibur,” A sliver sword was unsheathed. Showing Marc’s renamed sword of King Author.
“Brothers, we have a convoy to take care of,” Richesse said coming in between them.
“I could do this with my hands and legs tied,” Marc replied appearing beside his brother on the wall in a leap.    
“Humph,” Mathieu grinned shaking his head at his brother impulsiveness.
The convoy was below them.
Dust was shaken where the two brothers feet where as they sprung form the roof’s edge.
A smile crossed Richesse lips as she went to where they had stood, “Go get them, fellows.”
The cranking gears sounded as the convoy slowed to have two dark figures appear in the front of them.
Mathieu and Marc.
Rising, the automatic at Mathieu’s side came to rest its barrel toward the first vehicle.
“We’ve have come to relieve you of your men,” Mathieu said in perfect German. The first voice to come was soon followed with laughter for standing from the lead halftrack (an armored vehicle) was a young captain. He wore a black uniform: SS.
But? Mathieu hesitated. The captain’s uniform’s markings were red not white like in the standard uniform.
“Who will make me,” replied the captain.
Taking the riling, Mathieu watched as the captain jumped from the halftrack in one leap and landed softly. Other men followed in that sequence until six where behind him, each one wearing the same uniform as the captain.
Mathieu stepped back as his finger went to the cold metal of the trigger. The unknown was danger. He turned to his brother.
Abort!  
“Mar…”
“We will!”
Mathieu‘s lip broke as his teeth clutched down upon it. Marc had stepped forward; holding out his sword in challenge.
A man stepped from the crowd and metal sparkled in the moon light as he also unsheathed a sword.
“Marc, back down!” Mathieu ordered his brother in French knowing his brother too well.
“The Chevaliers are frightened of a little challenge?” the captain spoke in French straight at Marc. Before Mathieu could stop his brother he had already gotten out of his reach. Metal clashed in to the air.
“Attack!” was cried from both parties.
Up on the rooftop Richesse watched; a stone lodged in her throat.
No…
Joie! Her eyes went up from the street to the building across from her to catch her sister’s gaze.
Her heart went cold.
Figures appeared circling the whole area.
It was a trap!
Richesse opened her mouth to give warning when a cold hand held her lips and pain shot through arm. Instantly her muscles locked as she became paralyzed. Everything became hazy and Richesse dropped into the dark.    

J.A. 

Monday, December 3, 2012

The Four Visitors


"I sit and await my master’s visitors atop the wheeled vehicle that will take them to his dwelling. The star of this world shines brightly from high above. The air is heavy and warm as it drifts across the empty flatlands surrounding the spaceport. It is past the scheduled rendezvous and another shuttle has just landed; those I wait for should arrive soon.
 Finally the guarded doors into the main structure open and a lone figure slides out into the light. The figure wears dark, dirty, tattered robes and a cowl that thoroughly hides his facial features except for his glowing orange eyes. As he approaches, I note that he stands nine feet tall and has broad shoulders. He reaches me and I find his voice and tone give the same impression as his physique - it is soft and mysterious, quiet as the whisper of the wind. And strangely enough I cannot read this man. Even as his hood brushes the pads of my feet as he climbs beneath me into the vehicle, I can sense no physical presence, dark or otherwise - I cannot even smell him. It is as if he is the very wraith he appears to be.
 I arch an eyebrow and return my attention to the doors ahead. Approaching with a steady, powerful gate is a three foot Bowroaky in plain garb and wearing a small sword across his back. As he approaches I notice the deep, ugly scars that cover nearly every inch of his exposed skin. His compact, neckless physique forces him to stop about seven feet away so he can direct his gaze at me by only moving his deep blue eyes. His voice is deep and curt - there is an aura of power and seriousness emanating from him. Everything about him suggests that gentleness and even compassion are not things he deals in regularly.
 There is a shout from ahead and I return my attention to the doors leading into the spaceport. Running towards me is a young Neleyon man about five feet tall in a flowing, silken tunic and heavy travel pants. Energy radiates from his handsome face like fire from a star. His shock of brilliant white hair and smiling, neon blue eyes do nothing to dissuade from his youthful fervor. He treats me with perfect respect as we begin to speak - his youth and inexperience showing through as he stutters slightly before getting his facts straight. I grin as the young man climbs into the vehicle beneath me. If this boy is the only bright spot among these visitors at least that will be something.
 I glance up into the sky and find that, surprisingly, it has been two hours since I started waiting. Where is the fourth? Two shuttles had landed in that time - the fourth should have been on one of those. It is then that I notice one of the guards begin to open a door into the port. Out of the shadows gracefully glides a nine foot Deon woman. The sound of her footsteps is soft and light as she approaches me. The hem of her elegant dark green dress brushes gently against the stone under foot. I detect the sweet scent of flowers when she stops before me and I see for the first time that her perfect brown skin has a slight green hue to it. Her tender smile is sincere as she bows her head to me and we begin to speak. Her voice is gentle, kind, and respectful. A definite aura of calm and compassion surround her, but somehow there is also a deep distinguishing mysteriousness in her bright emerald eyes.
 Leaping down from the top of the vehicle, I bow low to the regal lady as she steps into the sleek vehicle. I close the door behind her and climb up into the front cabin. Starting the motor, I begin to answer questions from my passengers as I start the vehicle off towards my master’s homestead. As I pick out each of their voices and glance in the mirror at my master’s incredibly diverse guests, I can’t help but wonder why they are here. . .


~ J D White

Monday, November 12, 2012

Choices: scene 5


Duke pushed out of the foliage and rushed to his brother side.
“Anthony…” Duke couldn’t speak. His brother’s face was light; the pistols still in his hands.
“Duke,” came Anthony’s voice Duke saw his bother open his eyes, “I want you to listen and listen good.”
Duke was surprised at his brother’s strenth in his words.
“I may seem like a hero same as I thought of father… but killing in vain and theft bring people to staggering pain and if that’s a hero then I don’t know what is.”
Duke fell back on his legs, were these truly his brother’s last words?
“I won’t make it,” Anthony went on, “If Brooklyn is taken by that man. The future of this town and anyone who we love will be lost.” Anthony’s face started to go pale he reached up to
Duke and pushed the pistols onto his chest.
 “Duke, I want you to protect Brooklyn. Please, never use these pistols for evil again.”
Duke took the pistol as Anthony’s hand let go he had gone into a peaceful death.
Duke just stared at Anthony and was silent.
“We have to get ready to block those men,” Michael spoke coming behind Duke. Duke’s eyes shut. His knuckles turned red as he held the pistols tightly.
“Who cares,” Duke’s voice was emotionless, “Whoever cared!”  Duke shoved himself off the ground hitting Michael off him he raced off.
Anger covering sorrow coursed through his veins as he ran through the streets in strong strides.
His life was no longer the same there was a war inside him. What was good? What was evil?
His head listen to his brother’s words but his heart spoke differently.
“Please don’t!” a woman’s voice cried.
Duke pulled to a stop to see two men taking a man from his home. A woman, possibly his wife, ran down the steps to resist. Duke knew the men; they were Mario’s (Anthony’s past Boss). 
A side arm was revealed in one gangster’s hand, “You forget to pay Mario you now pay with a life.”
The gun was raised at the wife. Duke didn’t hesitate the .45 cried before the other gun’s barrel got its mark.
The enemy’s pistol flew to the cement. The woman was alive. Duke turned to the man holding the gun.
“Why are you doing this?” Duke asked rage in his heart.
“Your Junior Double Shooter, Aren’t you,” The one with the gun greeted.
Duke stepped back numbed. Surprised at the nonchalant of his voice. It’s true? These two men were as high ranking as Anthony and this is what they do.
“Get out of here,” Duke ordered.
The men looked confused at him, “Hey listen, we…”
 “I said, leave,” Duke repeated strongly cutting him off but this time not in anger.
“Hey boy!” the man snarled bending down for his pistol, “You don’t know who you’re talking to.” The man trained the barrel on Duke.
Duke raised the colt .45 in a Mexican Standoff, “I will protect Brooklyn with my life.”
The sound of a gun was heard throughout the streets.
Duke remained standing on Fourth Street while watching the two gangsters run from him. The handgun of the gangster lay on the cement. This time it had a bullet through its barrel. 
Duke looked at the man and woman who’s life he had just saved. He felt a warmness he had never felt when he thought of his father’s and brother’s fighting. It was the warmness of protecting. It was this that made Anthony stop.
“I will protect Brooklyn and make it prosper,” Duke pledged on the pistols he held in his hand.

At sunrise the market place was empty. Not a stall was open, not a cart was there. Morning fog from the bay covered the streets  
“Any one home!” echoed the sinister shout from Ace Card. The remaining henchmen from the park backed him up.
Ace Card waved to the one with the tommy gun. Arming the automatic, the man laid a clip of bullets into the closest shop.
 As the man loaded the second clip, the sound of others made him stop. He looked up then rolled his eyes to Ace Card.
Ace Card and his henchmen saw Michael and the Panthers standing in front of them. He waved the man with the Automatic off.
Michael stepped out holding a bat he began to speak, “I’m here to…”
“Stop you,” A deep voice behind them finished Michael’s sentence.
All turned around. Out of the fog, as the sun rose, came a tall man. A brown jacket lay over his shoulder. His arms where muscular; shoulders broad. His blond hair ruffled by the crisp morning air but this wasn’t the boy Duke. He was a leader and maturity showed in his eyes like it had never been before.

The end 

J.A.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Choices scene 4


That night Duke arose. For being nearest to the back room entrance the sound of his brother’s voice echoing through the big room awoke him.
“I must do this last thing,” Duke heard his brother say soothingly, “or our future well be lost.”
“I would have no future without you.” Darlene replied showing who Anthony was speaking to.
Duke sprung from his rack bed and landed on the cement. Taking his boots and jacket Duke ran through the other room to the outdoor entrance. Duke, at the edge of the storage door, saw Anthony and Darlene had walked out standing in moonlit night.
 “This new mobster is planning something, I will stop it,” Anthony stated, “If I don’t come back…”
“You’re foolish,” Darlene spoke in shaky laughter, “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
Darlene couldn’t stop holding back her tears and she fell into Anthony’s arms.
Duke turn from the entrance and stood there in the dark. His future had changed drastically though he had a chance to try to keep it as it was. He would make sure his brother would come back!
Coat and boots on, Duke waited for the appropriate moment, once Darlene turned, then he snuck out.
Fort Greene Park was luminous at night as Duke came upon the meeting place: a large tower, a monument, stood tall in the middle of a clearing. Dark figures where on one side and Anthony came up the other. Duke pulled to a stop and ducked behind a tree when a billowing laugh came from the dark group meeting his brother.  “Good evening Double Shooter,” the deep voice greeted.
Duke turned to see behind the tree if he could get closer to see and hear when he saw a clump of thick welcoming bushes.
Dropping to the ground he could smell the earth and feel the frosted grass on his bare hands and wrist. He started to belly crawl.
“I was not surprised that you had made it, Sliver Spinner did a good job giving my message.”
That voice must be Ace Card’s, Duke Thought his knees getting cold as his pant legs got wetter. The bushes didn’t rustle as he counseled himself inside them. Looking through the other side he saw Ace Card and his men. Ace Card was overweight, though the men beside him could easily be told that they were the professionals in their business. Each had a different weapon also, all have never been seen by Duke.
“Ace Card, I have not come to talk small talk...”
“Sh-sh-sh,” Ace card cut Anthony off, “Let’s not quibble I’m giving you a prince’s title and land. You join me; we take Brooklyn and be the rulers over the whole city by tomorrow after noon.”
Take Brooklyn, awesome! Duke thought but his excitement disappeared as his brother spoke, “You take this town, you ruin it, just like all the generations that had done it before,” Anthony unveiled his two pistols, “and I will stop this from happening.”
Duke watched as many weapons where relived as the first shot from his brother went off. It was meant for Ace Card but one of the henchmen had blocked it.
Anthony? Duke watched his brother fight to be a normal ordinary man. When the cold sound of a Tompson made Duke’s heart stop as his brother fell to the ground.
“An!..” Duke’s cry was quieted as a hand was clapped across his month.
“Shut up,” Michael hissed. His arm around Duke and a hand clasp over his lips. Balance lost, Duke and Michael fell to the ground.  Duke’s pain and anger mixed; flaring inside him as he stood and pick up Michael.
“Don’t touch me!” Duke growled at his best buddy.
“If you go out there you will die also,” Michael’s eyes were filled with sorrow. Even though not related the Panthers were closely knit together. Anthony was each boy’s older brother. Duke saw this in Michael’s eyes and remembered this was his friend. He fell back on the ground to hear the battle was done and Ace Card’s noxious voice, “Sadly Double Shooter is no more. He would have been an excellent addition.” 

J.A.