User talk:Hawkeye8
From The Inheritance Encyclopedia
This page has been cleaned up on 8-1-07
Random conversations
I want to make a t-shirt that says "I was crucified by the Vatican and all I got was this lousy T-shirt", but my dad says that I'd get in trouble for wearing it.-hawk
Thats sweet.--Kystra
I just poked my wound from carving with a pin. --I Believe
okay, that works.--Kystra
I put the paper in an old hotel shampoo bottle I washed out. I didn't have any spare bags... --I Believe
that's a good idea...--Kystra
Yep. I collect little bottles and stuff like that. --I Believe
You're so weird.-hawk
Dr. Phil is my Hero. He said 'She's got your A** in a Dixie Cup!!'--Kystra
I live for being weird. Don't you know that by now? --I Believe
I call my cousins boyfriend Mike and Ike... cause his name is Mike! *blinks*--Kystra
That's... odd. --I Believe
He is hawt though. I went to the beach with them and a few friends, and he went, and hie is RIPPED!!!!! *drool*--Kystra
Kystra... CALM DOWN!!!! I'm off to RP with one of my friends, see ya. --I Believe
bye bye. I need to eat the skate ramps soon and do a big RP group.--Kystra
Bye kystra. --I Believe
My cousin just saw Hairspray, so when she was at my house today, she used my REALLY GOOD GEL and ga\ve me a mohawk, which was cool, but then she gave me the same hairstyle as Zac Efron *Gag*--Kystra
I do believe Hawk is dead.--Kystra
I'm not dead! I was just grounded for awhile. That's all.-hawk
I stepped on a nail!!!!! It was in the hel of my foot, and it messed up some nerves. The doctors are determining whether I need to wear a brace thingy on my ankle. They showed it to me, it was a little thing that braced across the bottom of my heel, and a hinging joint was on both sides of my feet, and a little mecanical system workss so if I move my foot a little bit, it moves my foot at the ankle for me. Because it messed with my nerves, it also messed up some of my muscle control, so they want to see if it's a permenant thing, or a physical therpy thing that can be fixed. Lets hope it's the second.--Kystra
That sort of sucks, doesn't it?-hawk
Sort of?--Kystra
Please let it be a physical therapy thing. --I Believe
A few days ago I got the verdict. They thing it can be solved by physical therapy, but I will have to go alot, three times a week, for atleast three months. The bad part is I also will have to wear the brace for however long I have to be in physical therapy, which can be as short as two months, or two years. But it means I will have to give up my spot on the rugby team, which sucks, because if I only have to wear it for a few months, then I will have to wait till next year to get back on the team. I also will have to give up hiking on mount Rainer, for the same length as Physical therapy, because it might screw up the course of PT. But it is a fixable thing. But, while I'm in PT, I can't drive my truck!!!!!!!!!!!--Kystra
Ufgggh! A couple of days ago, I got a Tetanis shot and my first Gardasil, and I found out I have scoliosis. Oh, and I go to a counselor. --I Believe
Scoliosis? teh spine imblance or something? Don't you have to wear a suck brace or something?--Kystra
Well, I have my . so I'm going to stop growing within a year, so they might not be able to do anything like that for it. --I Believe
Trust me, that doesn't stop it. I'm in high school, 5' 10", still growing. And I've had mine since the summer before 6th Grade.--Kystra
Wonderful. Thanks for telling me. --I Believe
was that sarcastic?--Kystra
UMMMMM, no, and that wasn't sarcastic. --I Believe
Sorry, I've been trying to function on three hours of sleep and no coffee.--Kystra
Awwww, poor Kystra. I got a freakin sweet set of 72 colored pencils today! --I Believe
'Huzzah!! My d20s!!!' Thats pretty sweet quote... HI!!!!!!!!!--Kystra
Yes, yes, hullo Hawk! --I Believe
HI!!! You miss me?--Kystra
Actually, i cant believe i never posted this, but Hawkeye emailed me saying that she's not allowed on the internet so much anymore, and not allowed on this website! >=( I was like, ****! But oh well. If you guys want her email address i'll post it here. -Heir
That sucks.--Kystra
Hawkeye's a guy? --Soren ('cause on his sidebar thing, it mentions a lot of girly stuff)
Oh, that's funny. I'm a girl, by the way. Thnx Soren for knowing that!--hawk
Did I say he? **** I'll fix that. Hi hawk! I thought you werent allowed on here. -Heir
Random writing woot!
Now, here's the next chapter of #17! Tell me what you think!
He woke up on the ground. He could feel the heat of the sun on his back, and he could smell the damp mustiness of the earth and grass. He could hear birds in the trees, and people elsewhere in the park. He wanted to lie there forever, just drinking in what his senses told him, but he knew that he had a job to do.
As before, a backpack lay on the ground near him. He sat crossed-legged and opened the backpack. He felt around inside, and his fingers brushed cool, machine shaped metal. He knew that it would be in there, but it was not what he was looking for. His fingers touched something else, soft, yet sharp at the edges. He pulled it out.
A piece of paper! Something so simple, but he had not felt paper for such a long time. On it were written directions to an address, and a single name. Marcus Flintback. How long it has been since he had read! He did not like to read before, but now he wanted to read the paper for hours, savoring how such simple shapes could convey thoughts, directions, and orders; he knew that he did not have time to do so.
He pocketed the paper and stood up. His legs felt weak from being unused for so long, but he would soon not care. He slung the bag over his shoulder and he walked through the park, the directions already memorized in his head.
It was a cool day, late in the afternoon, towards the end of the summer when the heat no longer stifled the city residents and the cool ocean breezes rescued the city from the high temperatures and the tourists. The trees in the park still wore the deep green of summer, and children tried to squeeze as many hours out of their summer vacations that would soon be brought to a close by school.
He remembered how he hated school, how he always flunked his classes and got in trouble in class. He did not have to worry about such simple things now.
He walked along the path in the park, others ignoring his presence. He ignored them for the most part, only paying attention when a woman jogged by him. It had been a long time since he saw any girls; he wished that he would have been needed earlier in the summer when he could have seen more girls in the city.
He walked over the small bridge that went over a stream that served no purpose other than architectural design in the park. On a whim, he checked his reflection in the water.
He saw that they had cleaned him up before they let him out. His red hair was cut to a normal length, and his face shaved. He must have been washed, for his body odor did not keep people away from him. He now wore a white shirt, a black trench coat, black leather pants, and dark green army boots instead of the black jumpsuit he wore in his room. His brown eyes, which he had not seen in ages, did not show what he had been through, for he was too happy to be out in the world.
He knew that he could not stay still for long, because he might attract attention to himself, and he did not want to be punished again. He continued walking on.
The exit to the park led to the busy downtown where people rushed about as they traveled from one place to another. Store windows held manikins that wore the latest trends in fashions. He never cared for such things, but he still wanted to see how things had changed since the last time they needed him, though he knew he could not waste time.
The downtown changed into the residential district. Apartment buildings lined the streets, and he could hear the students playing music at the performing arts college nearby. He never felt that he could get into college before, and he wondered if he would ever be able to get into one later in his life.
Towards the city’s limits, the apartment buildings turned into personal homes that slowly grew bigger as he walked on. His legs ached from walking so far, but he was not given money or directed to take any other form of transport. He wanted to find the house, finish his job, and be done with it. If he were lucky, he would have a few free minutes to himself.
He scanned the street signs on his side, looking for the right street to turn on to. Cherry, that was the name of the street he wanted. There it was, up ahead.
He turned onto the street, and now looked at the houses for the right number. The first house on the street was number 11; he felt relieved since he did not need to walk that much farther. He found house number 9. It was small, only one floor and no cars in the driveway or parked in front of the house on the street. He did not wish for there to be too many people inside, for then he would have to act differently then he normally would have to. He did not want to repeat what he was forced to do once before because there were too many people.
He opened the gate and walked up the path, not bothering to return things to the way they were. He climbed the steps and stopped in front of the door. He pulled a key out of his pocket; he knew it would be there since he had done jobs that were very similar to this one many times before. He unlocked the door, opened it, and walked in.
“Linda? Are you home already, dear?” a man called from somewhere inside the house. Jay now knew where the man was from the sound of his voice. He pulled what he felt before out of his backpack and held it in his right hand. He walked through the small entryway and peered into the hall. Three doorways lined the walls; he could not discern were the man was.
“Linda?” the man called again. Jay could tell that the man was in the room through the second doorway. He walked the short distance of the hall and stepped into the kitchen. The man looked surprised, though he should have had adequate warning when the person who entered the house did not answer him. “Wh…who the hell are y…” He did not have a chance to finish his sentence, for Jay had shot him through the head. He crumpled to the ground.
Marcus Flintback was now dead, Jay’s job now completed. He did not feel happy or sad or upset or anything at all. He dropped the semiautomatic handgun to the ground; he knew there would be no more bullets and it was of no use to him now.
He knew he had a few precious minutes all to himself, and he had to spend them as wisely as possible. He looked around the kitchen, and he found a newspaper on the table. He ran over to it and checked the date. Tuesday, August 29, 2028. The date meant little to him because he could not remember any dates. He could remember dates he was taught in school, like July 4, 1976 and September 11, 2001, but those did not count. He could not remember his own birthday, or those of what were his friends and family.
He skimmed the headlines, but they only talked about people being elected or a sports team wining a game or a bill being vetoed. There was very little information that he could use, for it said nothing of what happened during his time of confinement.
He did not move immediately when he heard people barging through the front door. He knew what they were here for, and he just stood still. They entered the kitchen, and he knew that his freedom was now over.
He could feel a needle being thrust into his leg, and as he fell unconscious, he could tell that his wrists were put into handcuffs and his legs into shackles.
Everyone makes fun of the "Linda" thing. If anyone in your family is named Marcus Flintback and he was murdered and this upsets you, I'm sorry that I messed you up and I'll probably need a disclaimer in the front of the book.
