Something I wrote about a forum I'm very active on: 667 Dark Avenue. Chapter I. The sun’s rays bounced off the shiny glass of the office windows. Kimia looked down. Forty stories below her were the crowded, bustling streets of Tehran. Resting her head on her palm, she noticed a rather odd woman. She was, of course, wearing a burka but she didn’t seem familiar with Tehran. Or burkas. She walked awkwardly, avoiding the bearded mullahs. Suddenly she looked up, and the half of the burka covering her face slipped down. She had a pretty face, high cheekbones combining with bright eyes. But it was not an Irani face. A lock of pale brown hair fell over her forehead. Suddenly her face adopted a sad look and Kimia recognized her. It was Amber. Nearly tripping over the carpet, she ran to the phone. “Hello? Ikram?” she yelled into it. “Yes Madam.” Replied Ikram listlessly. “Go out there and bring in the thin woman in the burka. Tell her Kimia is calling her.” Said Kimia, slamming down the phone. -- Amber bit her lip. The heat of the Tehran sun seemed unbearable, but to wear something other than the burka in public would mean certain death. Drawing her burka tighter, Amber noticed a mustachioed man walking towards her. He told her that Kimia was calling her. Finally, she thought, I’ve found her. She followed the man into a huge, shiny skyscraper and went up to the top floor via the elevator. Running out, she saw a familiar face and cried out “Kimia!” with joy. -- Amber hurriedly took off the burka, revealing normal clothes underneath. The only strange thing was the cape. It had the Welsh flag on it. It clashed horribly with her pinstriped shirt. After Amber had changed, Kimia asked, “What are you doing here?” “I came to find you.” was the reply. “Why?” This, Amber felt, could only be expressed in numbers. “667.” She replied calmly. Kimia jumped up. Amber held out her hand. On the ring finger was a rather strange ornament. A gold band, with the number ‘667’ in the center. It sparkled in the sunlight. The number was encrusted with diamonds. Hanging from the band was a thin tag. It was pinstriped and had ‘Amber’ written in the center. “667.” She repeated. --------------------------------------------------------- In the words of The Beatles, I could make it longer if you like the style....there are about 7 more chapters so far.
Sounds interesting, plus i must know what the hell 667 is!!!!!!!!!!! We don't get many stories around here, so it was good to read something different. Good job.
Chapter Two. Halfway across the world, a young man fought with his blankets. Kicking them into position again, he was momentarily lost, as part of his hair was covering his eyes. Suddenly an alarm clock went off and Derik punched it. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and putting on his glasses, Derik moaned. A light tapping on his window suddenly joined his moaning. His apartment’s window looked out onto the shared garden, a tiny space currently occupied by a medium sized man waving frantically. He was dressed all in black and had black hair which, like Derik’s had just done, was now covering his eyes. Suddenly Derik recognized the man, and ran to the door. Fumbling with the lock, he ran out. “Oi! Akbar!” he yelled. “Dayrikio!” yelled back Akbar, who was now trying to untangle himself from a bush. “What are you doing here?” asked Derik. “Official 667…umm…business.” Gasped Akbar. He paused his battle to show Derik a ring on his finger. It was made out of gold and was quite slim. In the center, the gold formed the number ‘667’ and dangling from this, on a little thread, was a pinstriped tag. It said ‘Akbar’ on it. “667 needs you.” Said Akbar, suddenly lapsing into a solemn tone. Derik gaped. --------------- As Akbar trudged through Derik’s apartment, he sighed. Derik was meanwhile getting quite impatient. “What exactly happened?” “You know what happened. The so-called ‘upgrade’ 13 years back. When it got stuck. And never came on again.” Derik sighed. Those were unhappy days. Everything, absolutely everything had been deleted. All the threads, posts, members. Everything. “Yes, yes I remember. I got one of those rings too. We all did.” “They were sent by Tragedy.” “Get to the point already!” yelled Derik, banging his fist against the table. His glasses went awry. “Why do they need me? It’s finished. It’s over.” Akbar drew back a little. He’d never seen Derik this angry. “Look. We’re needed. We all are. I don’t know exactly why,” he explained, “but apparently Tragedy has a plan to create a community. A real life 667.” Derik was definitely interested now. ----------------------------------------