Red Brick Explosion

My brother and I both want to be writers. The difference between he and I is that I write maybe once a month, and he writes everyday. Now he has started a blog for building up discipline, which is wonderful. I may be biased, but I think he’s pretty good. Check it out: Humor the Madman.

To post something new everyday… That’s crazy dedicated. My last post on this blog was back in November. There was a year long gap between my two recent blog posts and the previous one on No Longer Oxford. I could use a dose of discipline. Will I commit to posting daily? No way. But I want to commit to a monthly minimum. One a month. That’s all.

In the spirit of that new discipline, here’s an excerpt from the book I’m trying to write. The introduction of the book, as it were. You may remember I was participating in NaNoWriMo last November. I did not complete it, but I plan to in the future. So here is a taste of it, because once I put it on the internet… there’s no getting rid of it. Or so I hear.


We must all die; we are like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. But God will not take away life, and he devises means so that the banished one will not remain silent.

– 2 Samuel 14:14 (ESV)



The brick by my face exploded in rust-red fury. Though the assailant’s bullet missed his mark, the damage was done. And as bits of concrete and mortar screamed by and scraped through my cheek, I allowed myself to entertain the thought I had been pushing out of my mind for the past several minutes: This is it. I am going to die.

My feet pounded down the concrete walkway, feeling the weight of every step, hoping against all hope that adrenaline was strong enough to outrun bullets. I looked behind me, frightened, but curious enough to want to see my attacker. He was too far away. He wore a hood which shielded his face, even from the unusually bright moonlight. I turned back around, unsure of where I was headed, but desperate enough to get there. I heard another gunshot, but did not see or hear it hit anything. Strike two. Next time won’t be so lucky.

It did not hit me until I saw a group of teenagers ahead how strangely vacant the town was. Until now, I had not seen another person besides my pursuing harbinger of death.

“Get out of the way!” I yelled. The three of them turned around, a look of offense on their faces. I bounded closer toward them, afraid to get them caught up in something they had no business being caught up in. Even I did not know what I was caught in. Maybe it was a misunderstanding.

As I got closer to the teens, I saw their faces contort into a look of terror. I followed their line of sight to the man running a few yards behind me, his pistol gleaming after each passing streetlight. They all scattered in different directions as I flew through them. I wondered if maybe I should trick him by hiding in an alleyway, like they always do in the movies.

BANG. Before I could lose him, I heard another gunshot and knew my fate was sealed. A split second later, I felt the searing hot metal enter my left calf. I was mid-step and could not avoid landing on the now-injured leg. As my foot made contact with the ground, I cried out in agony. I never thought one bullet could hurt so much. My body crumpled onto the sidewalk, completely numb except for my leg. It felt white-hot and pulsed with every heartbeat. I looked at it, an alarming amount of blood pooling on the concrete beneath me.

I was defeated. Looking up, screaming and sweating, I waited for another bullet. I grabbed my leg and squeezed it, hoping this would somehow lessen the pain, as the footsteps of my attacker grew steadily louder.

God… I hope you really do see my heart. I was trying to do the right thing. For whatever I did wrong… Please… Forgive me.


Aaaaaand, scene. This is, by no means, a final draft. Knowing me, the amount of revisions will make the final draft resemble nothing close to this. However, this is to prove that I am writing something.

Don’t forget to check out my brother’s blog, Humor the Madman (check out this post in particular). I’m excited for the stuff he’s producing. And keep looking for stuff here, at least once a month.

In other words…

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