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Dead Winter - Book 1 - Chapter 3
Chapter 3     "What's it look like out there?"     Jason knelt over to look around the corner of the building he and Weston stood behind. Out in the streets, about fifteen or twenty figures shambled around. The most he could see of them was just a faint outline, but it was enough to see that these 'people' weren't okay. A few of them were walking around with no arms or legs, while others had chunks of their bodies missing. Even in the haze caused by the snow, he saw that one of the people had been completely torn open, their organs spilling out in heaps.     "Bad…it looks really bad out there, I'm not gonna lie."     "Can you be
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Dead Winter - Book 1 - Chapter 1
"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." –Robert Frost Monday, November 21, 2011      We made it to the cabin a little later than I would have liked today, but there's not much I could have done about it. Just the little things piling up, really. It's not as dusty as I thought it would be, so we've caught ourselves a break on that at least. Considering everything that needs to be done, I would guess that we should be done before Thanksgiving by about a day. Seems like dad overestimated everything. Again.      Jason Hall finished reading the last 'no
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Jason Hall
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My Funeral
Ever since the death of my grandmother, I've been giving far more thought into my own death than a normal 20-year-old man should. I've asked the questions of "What will I leave behind?", "Who will miss me?", and most importantly, "How in the hell will I or my family pay for my internment?", because a funeral is no cheap thing. My grandfather on my father's side, bless his soul, was buried traditionally. That is, he was embalmed, placed in a coffin, buried six feet under and then had a chiseled rock placed on top of his face. My grandmother on my mother's side's funeral was noticeably cheaper, about $7,000, since she was cremated versus being
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Smiling
Smiling. It had always been the front I had put up whenever I was sad, or angry. Every day I hoped, even dreamed that someone would see past that smile. Dreamed that someone would take it away so that I could let the tears I wanted for so long to finally fall. The tears would have healed me, if they were allowed… But no one ever did. And slowly, oh, so slowly, my shield became my sickle. And every time I raised it, it cut me. It cut me so deep. What was worse was that I never let the wounds heal. Every effort to shield myself cut deeper and deeper, making it hurt more and more. So what was I to do with that shield? I couldn't toss i
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Dead Winter - Book 1 - Chapter 3
Chapter 3     "What's it look like out there?"     Jason knelt over to look around the corner of the building he and Weston stood behind. Out in the streets, about fifteen or twenty figures shambled around. The most he could see of them was just a faint outline, but it was enough to see that these 'people' weren't okay. A few of them were walking around with no arms or legs, while others had chunks of their bodies missing. Even in the haze caused by the snow, he saw that one of the people had been completely torn open, their organs spilling out in heaps.     "Bad…it looks really bad out there, I'm not gonna lie."     "Can you be
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1
D
Dead Winter - Book 1 - Chapter 1
"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." –Robert Frost Monday, November 21, 2011      We made it to the cabin a little later than I would have liked today, but there's not much I could have done about it. Just the little things piling up, really. It's not as dusty as I thought it would be, so we've caught ourselves a break on that at least. Considering everything that needs to be done, I would guess that we should be done before Thanksgiving by about a day. Seems like dad overestimated everything. Again.      Jason Hall finished reading the last 'no
4
0
Jason Hall
3
0
M
My Funeral
Ever since the death of my grandmother, I've been giving far more thought into my own death than a normal 20-year-old man should. I've asked the questions of "What will I leave behind?", "Who will miss me?", and most importantly, "How in the hell will I or my family pay for my internment?", because a funeral is no cheap thing. My grandfather on my father's side, bless his soul, was buried traditionally. That is, he was embalmed, placed in a coffin, buried six feet under and then had a chiseled rock placed on top of his face. My grandmother on my mother's side's funeral was noticeably cheaper, about $7,000, since she was cremated versus being
3
1
S
Smiling
Smiling. It had always been the front I had put up whenever I was sad, or angry. Every day I hoped, even dreamed that someone would see past that smile. Dreamed that someone would take it away so that I could let the tears I wanted for so long to finally fall. The tears would have healed me, if they were allowed… But no one ever did. And slowly, oh, so slowly, my shield became my sickle. And every time I raised it, it cut me. It cut me so deep. What was worse was that I never let the wounds heal. Every effort to shield myself cut deeper and deeper, making it hurt more and more. So what was I to do with that shield? I couldn't toss i
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Jan 5
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Deviant for 8 years
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Graveyard Shifts
Yup. I'll be working them. Hopefully this will give me a chance to write since I will have nothing else to do during my hours. Other than that, this was just a quick little update. I'm currently revising what I already have for Dead Winter to hopefully get some enthusiasm for writing again. I mean, I really do love Dead Winter and the universe I've made for it, it's just my confidence in my writing has been at an all time low due to no feed back in what I've written. And as a writer for an ongoing story, it's kind of a big deal to have that. But I'm going into topics that don't need to be gotten into. Anyways, that's all for now. Hopefully
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So it's been a while...
Yeah, I've recently got a job that has me working from 3-11pm. Which, coincidentally, is the best time for me to write. And I can't stay up all night because I then have classes and/or chores to do around the house in the morning before work. Which leaves me to write only on weekends. And that's IF I'm not hanging out with friends or just sleeping because I'm just too tired to work on anything else. However, I have taken advantage of the opportunity to write short snippets of Dead Winter in a spiral notebook when I have the time. So all I have to do is type stuff from the notebook onto Word. So I'm still writing, just...very slowly. And if y
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Patterns!
It's what my life has become in recent days. Wake up, eat breakfast, chores, try to write, eat lunch, try to write, rage quit, video games, try to write again, realize it's midnight, try to write one more time, fail, go to bed, sleep, repeat. But now the pattern is broken! That's right! I now...! Have a job that'll keep my from writing. :| On one hand, YAY INCOME! On the other...less time to write. Not to mention that I'm in a complete stump over how to write Dead Winter's third chapter. I've tried so many things but none of them seem to be...'it'. Oh well, my job is pretty monotonous, so maybe I'll be able to become automated with it an
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Comments14

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TsukikoCyberGoth's avatar
TsukikoCyberGothStudent General Artist
Thank you for joining Story-Corner.
We're happy to have you!
AuthorAndArtist's avatar
I like ur style and in guna start from the first lol I read Chp 7 thinking it was 1 lol

Send me a watch
oOMischiefOo's avatar
oOMischiefOoHobbyist Digital Artist
thanks for the watch!
Zeritanos's avatar
You are most welcome, ma'am. :D
I'm looking forward to more your Whisper of the Dead series. :P
AtrumMiles's avatar
AtrumMilesHobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday man! :D