P. R. D.
Such a charming lad!
This is my first work (in English) ever. Actually, I've written many stuff but not in English and I'm trying to improve my language skills as much as possible, so please could you concentrate on my grammar, punctuation, and spelling mistakes. If there are serious problems in my style, please tell me. If it's not interesting, tell me, because I gave all my best to make it fun. And, please, skip "It's good for an amateur," or "You suck, do something else in your free time!" If there is even a tiny mistake or some kind of cultural misunderstanding, don't skip it 
.
Some info:
Title: Exercise 1
words: 2091 (for now!)
I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for just opening this threat.
“Oh my God! You shot him dead”. John's scream faded into the yellow heat.
The desert swallowed it, as though no sound ever came out of his mouth. And even if the winds weren't blowing so furiously and the big clouds of sand weren't attacking him over and over again, his voice wouldn't have been heard by anyone, for the nearest town was miles away from this forsaken place.
“We don't have enough water, I had to do it,” replied Peter Dudley, John's companion.
One tiny line of smoke was coming out of his gun's muzzle. In front of him a corpse was supine on the ground. Unbelievable! Old Sam, the town tailor was dead!
“What are you talking about? We have two full gallons of fresh water!”
John felt a wave of pure anger to enter his mind. He knew that his partner was unpredictable but that was way beyond the admissible.
“Anyway, he won't want his share now,” Dudley's face suddenly changed from dark to almost happy. “And we won't listen to his stupid stories for wizards and dragons all the time. Frankly, he was drivin' me insane-- there's no doubt this man was crazy. ”
Somewhere in the middle of this little speech, John threw up a meter away from the corpse. Just as he felt a little better, he saw the blood of the old man to sink into the moving sands. He threw up again.
“See a dead man for the first time, huh?” Laughed his companion.
No answer.
“What's the matter, boy? Don't give me that angry look, cause' I have two more bullets and I don't mind traveling alone!”
Still no answer, just this time John's anger was replaced by a tinge of fear.
“Let's go,” ordered Peter Dudley with an imperative tone, he had never used since the beginning of their journey.
He was tall and thin with deep black eyes and nose two times bigger than John's. He was about forty-years-old, two times older than John and his black hair was short and dark, but still two times longer than John's. Only his heart was thousands of times smaller, for he was known as the most cruel man in these lands. Now he had just proved it to his young companion.
A minute later they were walking towards the nearest town. There was no path and the dunes were changing their forms and places every ten minutes, but the two men knew they were headed west and there was no sign of confusion on their faces.
John was thinking about old Sam's friendly look, his long yellow coat, and his warm smile, all those things were now buried in the middle of nowhere. His grayish, curly and long hair and beard were gone, too. But most of all, John missed Sam's endless stories of giant creatures and brave heroes. This old man was such a good company... Who was to blame for his dead?
The story was too complicated, but all the three man: Peter Dudley, Sam Stone and of course John Marsh, had a peace of the fault. Three days ago, when John and Sam were still in the town of Briville, they were talking about their plan. John remembered every single word they had been saying.
“It's dangerous”, the old man had uttered.
“Be quiet,” He had replied. “Somebody will hear us and we're dead! Nobody robs a bank in these days without paying with his life for it.”
“Yes, but we won't rob our bank. We'll travel through the desert to Minetown and when we do it, we'll get back here with bags, full of money. But we need a little help.”
“What do you mean?”
“We'll ask Dudley for help!”
“Dudley?!” John had screamed the name without realizing it.
“What?” A dreadful voice had replied from behind.
That same voice came again, this time from the present.
“Feeling bad for your friend?”
John needed a little time to bring himself to his senses. He realized he didn't want to answer this question and remained silent.
“At least he's no longer telling his stupid stories,” said Peter Dudley again, as though he wanted to make John mad.
But instead of madness, a little ray of joy entered the young man's thoughts. He remembered one beautiful story that Sam had told him earlier this day. It was a story for desert elves with houses, hidden in the dust and blades, made of silver and gold. They were elves-defenders of the good and the biggest nightmare of the evil. “They live in this desert, and they're watching us right now, sure thing. I've seen them, but they didn't want to talk to me and they all escaped somewhere. I'm telling you the truth. If you don't believe me, leave a gold coin right here on this stone and if you come back tomorrow, I bet you won't find it!” Those were Sam's last words before the bullet pierced his chest. Too bad that the gun was in Dudley's hands now, because John wanted only one thing and it wasn't the bags, full of gold, nor to get back in the town harmless, he wanted revenge.
Soon the night came and the wind disappeared. It was a really quiet night, and dark as well. The rage of the sun was replaced by the gentle touch of the moon but it turned out that the heat was way better than the cold. They stopped to make a camp.
“We have to sleep now,” said Peter Dudley, “It's a long way to Briville.”
But, of course! The night was John's weapon and he had to use it. That was his opportunity to destroy his partner in his sleep.
“Yes, let's rest,” those were his first words since they left old Sam's body in the middle of the desert.
It was time for action...
However, as soon as he laid on the ground, he felt so exhausted, that he couldn't control his eyelids. His body was craving for some sleep. He wasn't sure weather he would be able to stand up if he had waited a little longer and the need for sleep grew faster than expected.
It was impossible to stand up immediately, because his companion would suspect something and wouldn't fall asleep later. On the other hand, it wasn't a good idea to stay that way either, because it was quite possible another bullet to be fired, this time in his chest. That thought hit him like a heavy fist and he found some more strength inside him, just to think of an appropriate plan.
Suddenly, he sensed movement somewhere in front of him. He looked at his companion, but Peter Dudley was motionless. Perhaps some desert creature was searching for its dinner in the cover of the darkness.
He managed to get over this dispersing and concentrated on his new plan. He was about to reach in his pocket and pull out something, when a similar noise came from the opposite direction.
It was familiar and this time was much clearer. Someone was walking there! However, this someone was so fast, that for a a couple of seconds the noise moved away and was completely swallowed by some distant roar. Both the sounds weren't typical for these lands.
John felt like hundreds of bugs were walking on his back. He looked toward Peter Dudley. He was sleeping-- or at least he was acting it really well. His breathing was slow and a bit noisy.
If someone had come to take their gold in their sleep, they would have been dead by now. He looked around feverish in all the possible directions. There were no signs of something alive. After a few minutes he calmed down and returned to his previous goal-- killing his evil partner.
“Damn,” thought the young man, “If only I could get closer and stab him with my knife.” he pulled the little blade out of his pocked. “But then what? I'll be alone if another threat appears. I better not do it now. When we get to Briville-- there he will meet his doom!” Than he put his knife back in the pocket.
For good or bad, all the sounds were gone, perhaps hiding or even stalking behind the dunes or deep in John's imagination, where he thought their home was.
The night was still very young.
John looked up in the skies. Millions of stars were shining in millions of different ways. “Dragon eyes, the stars are nothing but the eyes of those big creatures. Lots of 'em,” a familiar voice from the past came into John's mind. “If you disappoint them, they won't come back tomorrow, so be good to others and the dragons will always keep an eye on you.” Strange words from the mouth of a bank robber.
One tiny smile sneaked on his face. Despite his effort, he closed his eyes and fell asleep instantly.
“Wake up. Johnny,” were the first words he heard the next morning.
And one strong kick was the first thing he felt.
“It's almost noon, get up!”
John stood up and beat the dust out of his clothes. He felt like his head was about to explode on his shoulders but tasted the energy of the new day. Still breathing-- everything was fine.
“You'll take the bags today, since the old fool is dead.”
Those words helped the young man to wake up fully and made his hunger for revenge a little bigger.
John lifted the heavy bags, full of gold and, without saying a word, followed his companion on their way – towards the west horizon. They had only a few more days to travel, and a few more nights to sleep. There was plenty of water and plenty of bread for ten men to cross the same distance.
Soon the memory of the last night started to fade-- but returned fast after Peter Dudley said:
“You wanted to kill me, didn't you, boy!” Those words came so unexpected, that John almost dropped the gold on the ground. “You should have done it, cause' now I have something in mind for you.”
The silence became deeper than ever.
“You can't kill me,” continued Peter Dudley at least half an hour later, as though he waited for his previous words to scare the young man enough. “You're a fool! And If you try, I'll smash your face with my bare hands.” He was talking slow, almost to himself.
This time the silence lasted for hours.
TO BE CONTINUED...
(SPOILER)!
-the fantasy part is in the end-
. Some info:
Title: Exercise 1
words: 2091 (for now!)
I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for just opening this threat.
“Oh my God! You shot him dead”. John's scream faded into the yellow heat.
The desert swallowed it, as though no sound ever came out of his mouth. And even if the winds weren't blowing so furiously and the big clouds of sand weren't attacking him over and over again, his voice wouldn't have been heard by anyone, for the nearest town was miles away from this forsaken place.
“We don't have enough water, I had to do it,” replied Peter Dudley, John's companion.
One tiny line of smoke was coming out of his gun's muzzle. In front of him a corpse was supine on the ground. Unbelievable! Old Sam, the town tailor was dead!
“What are you talking about? We have two full gallons of fresh water!”
John felt a wave of pure anger to enter his mind. He knew that his partner was unpredictable but that was way beyond the admissible.
“Anyway, he won't want his share now,” Dudley's face suddenly changed from dark to almost happy. “And we won't listen to his stupid stories for wizards and dragons all the time. Frankly, he was drivin' me insane-- there's no doubt this man was crazy. ”
Somewhere in the middle of this little speech, John threw up a meter away from the corpse. Just as he felt a little better, he saw the blood of the old man to sink into the moving sands. He threw up again.
“See a dead man for the first time, huh?” Laughed his companion.
No answer.
“What's the matter, boy? Don't give me that angry look, cause' I have two more bullets and I don't mind traveling alone!”
Still no answer, just this time John's anger was replaced by a tinge of fear.
“Let's go,” ordered Peter Dudley with an imperative tone, he had never used since the beginning of their journey.
He was tall and thin with deep black eyes and nose two times bigger than John's. He was about forty-years-old, two times older than John and his black hair was short and dark, but still two times longer than John's. Only his heart was thousands of times smaller, for he was known as the most cruel man in these lands. Now he had just proved it to his young companion.
A minute later they were walking towards the nearest town. There was no path and the dunes were changing their forms and places every ten minutes, but the two men knew they were headed west and there was no sign of confusion on their faces.
John was thinking about old Sam's friendly look, his long yellow coat, and his warm smile, all those things were now buried in the middle of nowhere. His grayish, curly and long hair and beard were gone, too. But most of all, John missed Sam's endless stories of giant creatures and brave heroes. This old man was such a good company... Who was to blame for his dead?
The story was too complicated, but all the three man: Peter Dudley, Sam Stone and of course John Marsh, had a peace of the fault. Three days ago, when John and Sam were still in the town of Briville, they were talking about their plan. John remembered every single word they had been saying.
“It's dangerous”, the old man had uttered.
“Be quiet,” He had replied. “Somebody will hear us and we're dead! Nobody robs a bank in these days without paying with his life for it.”
“Yes, but we won't rob our bank. We'll travel through the desert to Minetown and when we do it, we'll get back here with bags, full of money. But we need a little help.”
“What do you mean?”
“We'll ask Dudley for help!”
“Dudley?!” John had screamed the name without realizing it.
“What?” A dreadful voice had replied from behind.
That same voice came again, this time from the present.
“Feeling bad for your friend?”
John needed a little time to bring himself to his senses. He realized he didn't want to answer this question and remained silent.
“At least he's no longer telling his stupid stories,” said Peter Dudley again, as though he wanted to make John mad.
But instead of madness, a little ray of joy entered the young man's thoughts. He remembered one beautiful story that Sam had told him earlier this day. It was a story for desert elves with houses, hidden in the dust and blades, made of silver and gold. They were elves-defenders of the good and the biggest nightmare of the evil. “They live in this desert, and they're watching us right now, sure thing. I've seen them, but they didn't want to talk to me and they all escaped somewhere. I'm telling you the truth. If you don't believe me, leave a gold coin right here on this stone and if you come back tomorrow, I bet you won't find it!” Those were Sam's last words before the bullet pierced his chest. Too bad that the gun was in Dudley's hands now, because John wanted only one thing and it wasn't the bags, full of gold, nor to get back in the town harmless, he wanted revenge.
Soon the night came and the wind disappeared. It was a really quiet night, and dark as well. The rage of the sun was replaced by the gentle touch of the moon but it turned out that the heat was way better than the cold. They stopped to make a camp.
“We have to sleep now,” said Peter Dudley, “It's a long way to Briville.”
But, of course! The night was John's weapon and he had to use it. That was his opportunity to destroy his partner in his sleep.
“Yes, let's rest,” those were his first words since they left old Sam's body in the middle of the desert.
It was time for action...
However, as soon as he laid on the ground, he felt so exhausted, that he couldn't control his eyelids. His body was craving for some sleep. He wasn't sure weather he would be able to stand up if he had waited a little longer and the need for sleep grew faster than expected.
It was impossible to stand up immediately, because his companion would suspect something and wouldn't fall asleep later. On the other hand, it wasn't a good idea to stay that way either, because it was quite possible another bullet to be fired, this time in his chest. That thought hit him like a heavy fist and he found some more strength inside him, just to think of an appropriate plan.
Suddenly, he sensed movement somewhere in front of him. He looked at his companion, but Peter Dudley was motionless. Perhaps some desert creature was searching for its dinner in the cover of the darkness.
He managed to get over this dispersing and concentrated on his new plan. He was about to reach in his pocket and pull out something, when a similar noise came from the opposite direction.
It was familiar and this time was much clearer. Someone was walking there! However, this someone was so fast, that for a a couple of seconds the noise moved away and was completely swallowed by some distant roar. Both the sounds weren't typical for these lands.
John felt like hundreds of bugs were walking on his back. He looked toward Peter Dudley. He was sleeping-- or at least he was acting it really well. His breathing was slow and a bit noisy.
If someone had come to take their gold in their sleep, they would have been dead by now. He looked around feverish in all the possible directions. There were no signs of something alive. After a few minutes he calmed down and returned to his previous goal-- killing his evil partner.
“Damn,” thought the young man, “If only I could get closer and stab him with my knife.” he pulled the little blade out of his pocked. “But then what? I'll be alone if another threat appears. I better not do it now. When we get to Briville-- there he will meet his doom!” Than he put his knife back in the pocket.
For good or bad, all the sounds were gone, perhaps hiding or even stalking behind the dunes or deep in John's imagination, where he thought their home was.
The night was still very young.
John looked up in the skies. Millions of stars were shining in millions of different ways. “Dragon eyes, the stars are nothing but the eyes of those big creatures. Lots of 'em,” a familiar voice from the past came into John's mind. “If you disappoint them, they won't come back tomorrow, so be good to others and the dragons will always keep an eye on you.” Strange words from the mouth of a bank robber.
One tiny smile sneaked on his face. Despite his effort, he closed his eyes and fell asleep instantly.
“Wake up. Johnny,” were the first words he heard the next morning.
And one strong kick was the first thing he felt.
“It's almost noon, get up!”
John stood up and beat the dust out of his clothes. He felt like his head was about to explode on his shoulders but tasted the energy of the new day. Still breathing-- everything was fine.
“You'll take the bags today, since the old fool is dead.”
Those words helped the young man to wake up fully and made his hunger for revenge a little bigger.
John lifted the heavy bags, full of gold and, without saying a word, followed his companion on their way – towards the west horizon. They had only a few more days to travel, and a few more nights to sleep. There was plenty of water and plenty of bread for ten men to cross the same distance.
Soon the memory of the last night started to fade-- but returned fast after Peter Dudley said:
“You wanted to kill me, didn't you, boy!” Those words came so unexpected, that John almost dropped the gold on the ground. “You should have done it, cause' now I have something in mind for you.”
The silence became deeper than ever.
“You can't kill me,” continued Peter Dudley at least half an hour later, as though he waited for his previous words to scare the young man enough. “You're a fool! And If you try, I'll smash your face with my bare hands.” He was talking slow, almost to himself.
This time the silence lasted for hours.
TO BE CONTINUED...
(SPOILER)!
-the fantasy part is in the end-
