Random Musings and Nicknacks

Maybe cut down a little more on the lemon juice

Ingredients:
4 ounces of unsalted butter~chilled
1 1/4 cup sugar
Grated peel of two lemons
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 large egg
1 1/2 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt

Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350 Fahrenheit
Combine butter, sugar, lemon peel+juice
Beat until fluffy
Mix in egg
Add flour, baking soda, and salt
Roll flour into balls and sprinkle sugar on top, bake for 15 min.

“Are you ready?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! I am.”
“Okay, here you go.”

Tom lifted my feet slowly up over the jagged fence. There was still fresh paint on them, some flakes of it rubbing on my buttoned shirt. I don’t think he was strong enough to lift me. I suddenly could feel the force below my feet weaken. Uh-oh.

“Oops!”

Tom slipped on his grip. My stomach suddenly met up with the fence’s ragged edge.
Ow.
I scrabbled furiously to push my weight on the other side of the divider, grabbing at whatever I could, I accidentally threw my fingers at a rusty nail.. Fortunately the slight tip managed to get me on the other side. Tumbling, I felt the soft grass beneath me. Ground, at last. My finger felt wet, it was bleeding. I need a bandage later.
I stared at a soft blue sky for a second. Suddenly I remembered what I came here for.
“Have you got it yet,” came a shout from the other side.
“No, be patient. I don’t see you getting your stomach gouged out by some fence.”

No reply.
I looked around, I didn’t see anything red, except a old shack. I doubt it ended up in there. That thing was barely standing up, if the wind blew harder that thing it probably would fall down.
This wasn’t a very nice yard. Yes, the grass was green and evenly cut, but the decorations made the landscape disgusting. The plants were all dead in the fenced off garden. I scratched my chin.
Hmm… where could it be?

“I don’t see it!” I gave a cry.
“Well, the ball did go over the fence, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So it’s there somewhere! Keep looking!”

I don’t see anything! Clench my teeth. Tighten my fist. This was getting nowhere.
“Hey, did you hear that?”
I listened around. A slight creak. What was that?
The back door quickly flung open. An old lady sprung out, she was holding a bright red ball.

“Are you looking for this?”

“Yes,” I gulped.

Well, it’s been edited again. Sometime soon I’ll be deleting the last draft from OurLog, so check out the differences while you can!

–Prologue–

The man woke up.

Where? Who?

A man was lightly leaning against a rectangular wooden pillar. It was a tall wooden support. He was on a small playground, alone. The supports were holding up a playground.
Who was he?
A lot questions crowded in his head, which unfortunately gave him a major headache. He needed some water, even though he was sweating quite a lot.
He tried really hard to stand up, only to realize that his joints wouldn’t obey him at all. He lay there, only able to breathe and maybe twitch his arms and legs. He was powerless to nature.
It also didn’t help that his mind was barely able to function. But it was only after a few moments (which seemed like hours) before he started getting his nerves back. The numbness slowly washed away.
He could slightly feel something in his hand. A piece of paper was his guess.
Slowly raising his hand, he opened the paper.

He tilted his head a little. He saw the small crumpled piece of paper. Looking past the nearly-illegible writing, he read out a name.

Vic Damorov

Was that his name? Nothing else could come to his mind that related to that word. Guess he was going to stick with the name Vic. It was a pretty nice name actually.

A pistol had come to lay at his side, a Desert Eagle .45. Do those exist?
When Vic reached for it a rush of knowledge suddenly hit him. Apparently, something bad was going to happen at night. He just knew he had to get out of the playground fast.

The small playground was filled with wood chips. A huge crater covered the landscape just northwest of him, and some fencing lay to his right side. He could easily climb over it at full strength, but right now Vic could barely fend off a squirrel. Using all his strength, he pushed himself up with his right arm. He squeezed through a opening in the fence, turning right, and jogged up the jagged sidewalk. Huge chunks of the sidewalk were blown up in pieces and in shambles.
Vic approached a mini jeep among a heap of burning cars. He noticed some weapons in the passenger seat. Just as he opened the car he also took in the bullet marks that riddled the driver’s side of the car. A turret stood attached to the back. Whatever they fought, they didn’t hold them off forever.
Vic jumped into the seat and realized the key was still in the ignition. He drove off quickly, not looking behind him at all.

End.

“Psssh.” -Dave, Soldier No.673, 11th Company