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[Struff Bunstridge]

I crouched behind the mottled greenish mass of an oak tree, gasping for breath. I could still hear their whoops of laughter as they crashed around the forest, snapping branches and rushing through piles of dead leaves with a hideous, sibilant whispering. My heart just would not slow down, and I gripped my knees hard enough to turn my knuckles white. No doubt they'd find me before long, but I just needed a few seconds to catch my breath before I could continue my desperate flight.

 

There were maybe only five or six of them, but their endurance seemed to far outstrip my own; even hollering at the tops of their lungs, they had enough breath to sprint feverishly around the lengthening shadows of the trees, weaving in and out of them like a slalom. I leaned to one side, and dry heaved until I thought my throat would tear in half, but nothing came.

 

I checked my guns: low. Seriously low. In the softly fading light, panicked as I was, my aim would surely falter in a gunfight. I wasn't sure I had enough rounds left to even slow them all down, to allow me a few more precious seconds to make good my escape. I thought briefly of climbing a tree and hiding until night, when I could maybe sneak away under cover of darkness. I dismissed this idea with an irritated grunt; anywhere I could climb, they surely could too. Worse, if I were spotted in a tree, they could simply stand there, take careful aim, and pick me off like a duck in a shooting gallery. No, if I were to make it out of this in one piece, it would have to be in a confrontation. At the very least, I could go out in a blaze of glory.

 

Darker now. A light, almost inaudible snap to my left. My head whipped round in response, almost of its own accord, and I felt the cartilage in my neck creaking in protest. A barely tangible shadow, moving slowly and carefully through the undergrowth, stalking me. I checked my guns again, and scoured my surroundings my signs of the others. I could hear distant giggling, and realised that this might be my only chance to reduce the numbers; one of them had obviously strayed from the pack.

 

I took one final deep breath, and smoothly whirled from my hiding place, coming up on his right side. He didn't even have time to raise his own weapons as my first round caught him square in the chest, dark liquid spurting forth from the impact. He staggered, and fell backwards, whimpering. I ran at him, launching a boot into the fork of his groin. He howled in agony as I felt that soft part of his body pulping under my steel-toed boots. He threw up onto himself, and slumped unconscious. I bent to pick up his weapons, and saw that they were in better order than mine. I grinned as I swapped the ammunition over, reflecting that I couldn't remember the last time I'd had this much fun. We'd definitely have to come paintballing again next weekend.

 

[Stefan.]

Haha, nice. I seriously thought you were in a battle-like scenario until I read the last line. Also, very descriptive writing, so I knew exactly how everything was panning out.

 

However, one little sentence seems a bit off-colour to me...

 

 

My heart just would not slow down.

 

I don't know about you, but if I were to write that, I would say "My heart would just not slow down." In my opinion, this sounds 'easier' to say and is more proper English.

 

Nonetheless, great work. I never knew you were such a good writer.

[Rhoda]

Fantastic, something light and innocent! It's a nice change to see something light of heart yet genuinely fun to read.

[radicell]

I agree with both Stefan and MK, a great twist at the end. Excellently written, you have one of the highest levels of vocabulary I've seen.

[Chickstick]

I liked it very much. Any chance of us seeing more one-offs like this from you?

[Struff Bunstridge]

Yeah, I reckon so. I bashed it out in about twenty minutes during a brief lull at work. I quite like how it turned out. Thanks guys!

[Ronmar The Only]

Nice, I've never been paintballing. Just seemed too expensive and I wouldn't have time to do it to account for how much I would spend.

[Eminence]

Excellent short read, and deeply entertaining. The vocabulary is, similarly to The Diary, excellent; there's no real criticism to make in terms of how it could be adapted or improved whatsoever. One tiny error, perhaps, was this:

 

 

I checked my guns again, and scoured my surroundings my signs of the others.

 

Should be 'for' signs of the others, or any synonymic word?

 

The only other things I picked up on were things to do with the whole idea of the piece itself. The twist at the end seems laboured, due to the fact that you've established the nature of the event taking place prior to describing it as paintballing. For one, why would the character contemplate spending a night in the tree to avoid detection? Now, I've only been paintballing once or twice, but within that they were simply split into rounds and such - not an all-night marathon game. Other than people literally deciding to randomly take to a forest and spend the night shooting at each other, I don't see the plausibility in this character's train of thought - he's completely aware, after all, that he's only paintballing. This applies once more towards the end - again, I assumed that paintballing, especially at a 'weekend' level, would involve a set system of rounds etc. and one would therefore not exchange weaponry and ammunition. Moreso than this, though, as there is no real violent, deadly encounter taking place... why on earth would the character kick the other in the nads and cause him to throw up?

 

The twist works, but barely. There's factors leading into it that declare it couldn't have occurred in that manner - and therefore cause it to not really make sense. It's like you're trying too hard to establish the deadliness of the exchange, but without a real reason to.

[Struff Bunstridge]

Fair enough all round, E. The violence beforehand was designed to add to the feel of the warzone-like atmosphere, as Stefan. found. I was going for the whole "hunted becomes hunter" thing.

[Eminence]

Yeah, definitely; and I understand that. It just doesn't seem to make sense in hindsight, with the twist seemingly added in more for effect than to actually make sense.

 

Nonetheless, it was an entertaining read and, if the preceding violence were toned down a little, would be pretty complete in this sense.

[Wanted Assailant]

Becauase of verification, anyone with imagination could interpret the setting into anything possible of relation. For instance, in my mind, I pictured the painting of a tribal native, who acquired a gun and was escaping from the ambushing outsiders. I also thought of a war battle throughout too.

 

 

But, it wasn't until that wise one liner that finally revealed. How one sentence can change a worked up piece of work. I'm amazed. I think.