I have not done much of genre writing which is where most of the fight scenes are, and I did not have it in me to write a scene from scratch. So, I cheated and lifted from a WIP I’ve been playing with off and on.
I promise y’all I’m just an average everyday girl, who’s scared of the dark. Promise.
I have lifted an entire scene, and drawn a line at the 1000 word mark ( Sorry J.C, I’ve tried to play by the rules!)
He kept waking up and looking at his watch. About to fall asleep for possibly the fifth time, he thought he heard voices. He checked his watch. 1.30 a.m. Time for the alarm to ring so he could play Manhunt in peace. He got slowly out of bed, switched off the alarm, and swatted at the black phantoms floating all around him. He put his ear to his bedroom door through which his parents’ voices trickled in. He opened the door taking care not to make a noise, walked across the passage and put his ear to his parents’ bedroom door. “Can we go to bed now, Maya? It is very late,” his father. “Sleep? I told you about the video game he was playing, and you still want to sleep?” “Be reasonable, Maya. I can only talk to him in the morning. It won’t help to wake him up right now, would it? He’s a child after all.” “Suresh, after all that I told you about your mother and the Tantrik Lahiri, you still want to let this rest? I know what he said, Suresh, he said we should kill him before he can kill us.” His mother’s voice quavered, and then broke into sobs. “Maya, can you get that wretched Tantrik out of your head? I will go and shoot that rascal if I have to. That is our child we’re talking about!” “I know, Suresh, I was the one who held him in womb for nine months, nursed him. But we can’t just go to sleep after we know…after we know what he is…” “Relax, Maya, we’ve been over this. We will talk to him. We’ll set up rules. Maybe we’ll consider a boarding school, a strict one. No video games there, right? And your Tantrik Lahiri said, right, that if he is away from us he would lose all power?” “Unless he kills us first.” “Maya, just listen to yourself!” “I know. But the Tantrik says we’ll gradually lose our shield as he grows, because we’ll be able to love him less and less.” Shahrukh began to tremble as he stood there in the dark, listening to his parents. So, they planned on sending him away. Mum thought they wouldn’t be able to love him any more. They knew he would not survive a day, the boys at a boarding school would be merciless, and there would be no escape. At least in his school he wasn’t new and he had his home to come back to. He would do what his friend Robbie did on Manhunt if he wanted to be kind to the enemy. He would shoot them, give them clean deaths: no gore and blood. If his parents were actually characters in Manhunt, Sharukh would have lost points for shooting them because in the game, the gorier the death the more the points you won. But these were his parents, and one had to be nice to one’s parents, so he would give up a few points. As he tiptoed towards the study, where the gun lay sleeping in the safe, Shahrukh hoped the door would be unlocked. He had stolen a copy of the key from his father’s bedroom drawer last week when he wanted to play with the gun, but the lock always made a loud click and he wanted no sounds. But he would be an orphan if he shot them. He stopped. Maybe a boarding school was a better deal? It was better than an orphanage, wasn’t it? If he became an orphan, he would go to an orphanage–he had never met Dad’s relatives. Shahrukh walked back to his room, taking care not to make any noise. He could still hear his parents’ voices, arguing. “No, my Lord, you must fulfil your destiny! Unless you kill them, you will never come into your own,” the voice that spoke to him rose and fell between a sigh and a hiss. Startled, Shahrukh looked around him, and the three forms that had always been around him came closer, a little darker than the darkness in the room. “We cannot tell you more,” the longest of the spectres drew nearer to Shahrukh. “But we have served you since the day you came to this planet, the planet you must rule for the rise of our kind. They are the only obstructions in your path. We will help you when it is done. We shall have more power, my Lord, as will you.” At the window outside the Kapoor bedroom, Tantrik Kalicharan Lahiri kept watch. The couple had now argued for over two hours, back and forth, with intermittent breaks when Mrs. Kapoor went to wash her face, or when Mr. Kapoor refused to speak. From his vantage point on the Gulmohar tree outside the window, he could not see the boy’s bedroom, which was on the other side of the house. This worried him no end. What was the boy up to? Would this Mrs. Kapoor, this Maya be strong enough to do what she had to do? She was a mother after all. She had come to him today morning, all flustered, and left determined. But what he had asked her to do would be tough, if not impossible, for any mother. The mosquitoes buzzing around Lahiri’s feet were merciless, and the Tantrik had bent to swat at them, when it happened. He looked up to see Mr. Kapoor fall, and the boy aim at his mother. She fell too. So, his plan had not worked. He must get away and put as much distance between himself and the boy while he could. He saw the first long shadow approach the boy from behind. There would be more, but he had no time to wait and discover how many. Lahiri dropped down on light feet, and picked up the backpack he had left beneath the tree. He jumped across the boundary wall, and disappeared into the night. ——————————————————————–1000 words————————– “I should never have done this! What now?” wailed Shahrukh, but he could not hear himself. There was no much sound from the gun as he’d pressed the trigger. It had a silencer, but its small clicks and the heavy thuds of falling bodies were like thunder in his ears, that had robbed him of all other sound. There was only a static buzzing in his head. He wanted to put his hands on his ears, slap them a bit maybe just to check, but he could not. His hands were on the gun, warm and heavy in his shaking grip. He stood there, finger on trigger, looking at the bloodied bodies of his father and mother, lying where they had fallen a minute ago. His mother was gasping on the floor of her bedroom. Shahrukh bent near her and listened. “He was right. You are a Danav. I gave birth to a devil.” Shahrukh lifted the gun once more, and pointed it at his mother with trembling hands but his mother fell quiet, her eyes sightless, her chest still. Blood trickled down her body in rivulets. Shahrukh had missed her at the first attempt, because she had seen him shoot his father, and moved to escape. His father had a small trickle of blood flowing from his temple. No worries there. Shahrukh knew he had to get away. He started walking out, slipped and fell on the floor slick with blood. Fumbling, he struggled back on his feet, and for the first time, felt how really alone and in trouble he was. “Come out now!” he yelled, “Look what you’ve made me do! I’ve made myself an orphan!”