Four Nails, Four Corners
Writing Exercises #2: Four Nails, Four Corners, Four Riders, Four Horses. (4N4C4R4H).
You all know THIS epic moment:
And what follows.
This dramatic interp is a novelisation of that scene. So. Please let me know what you think!
The town was not unlike any other he had ever visited. Mediocre, blue-collar America, never striving for any more, never refusing any less. Children rode their bikes. American flags streamed in the breeze that blew through the narrow streets. This was their idea of a bustling town, and he hadn’t even seen a single automobile on the graying asphalt yet. Then… a police cruiser rolled by towards the station in the centre of town.
The ground that lay ahead already had deep cracks, crevices, running through it in elabourate patterns. He saw every inch of the divots, understood every little thing they meant. They meant his job was going to be so much easier than he had expected.
At his feet laid the remnants of all that could’ve been. The teenager’s blood, streaked down the center median of the street. No one had bothered to wash it off. Pour water on it. Take a hose to it. It was just… there, red and raw. It didn’t shock him. It angered him. But he walked among the red, and let it fill him with anger, with purpose.
His tattered snakeskin boots made little noise, so thoroughly worn through that they knew his purpose, they knew his thoughts, probably before even he did. Still, every step was measured, almost careful, a cool calm that composed him. His tattered, torn jacket flowed from around his legs and hips as he moved closer to his destination, hands resting relaxed by his side. Everything was falling into place.
He watched, still, silent from the middle of the main street as the police cruiser parked outside of the station. The two men got out, and Samuel tried not to grit his teeth. Tried not to lock his knees. Tried not to clench his fists. He fought for focus, for calm, to keep from bringing down the entire town.
He knew his task. This was his right. And the town would tremble on their knees at his vengeance.
The men disappeared inside the building. Samuel took a long, deep breath, eyes fluttering shut briefly. The world felt like it had stopped, gone silent and frozen around him. Then the red rose again, threatening to pull him under.
He flexed his fingers, not fighting for control anymore. He wanted the fury. He wanted the violence. He wanted the frenzy. He raised his arms, palms directed at the stone building before him. Stone. Thank god. Made from the sheer earth he controlled.
And then the resolution fell upon the world. Telephone poles fell, light posts fell and broke into pieces on the intact asphalt. Dust streamed from the pillars of the building, as Samuel lifted his hands up to the level of his head, closing his fists slowly. He could feel every muscle, every sinew, quake, as the earth beneath him did. He gritted his teeth, eyes locked on the crumbling structure bathed in the same red he’d seen beneath his boots.
Large pieces of stone and marble fell heavily to the sidewalk. It all seemed to go at once, like the very ground opened to swallow the former department whole, to pull it down to the depths of Hell where Samuel knew it, and the people trapped inside, belonged.
His work done, Samuel turned, intensely satisfied by the angry, loud sounds behind him. He tried not to grin as his fingers relaxed, and his arms fell to his side. Not a minute later, silence reigned again.
You all know THIS epic moment:
And what follows.
This dramatic interp is a novelisation of that scene. So. Please let me know what you think!
The town was not unlike any other he had ever visited. Mediocre, blue-collar America, never striving for any more, never refusing any less. Children rode their bikes. American flags streamed in the breeze that blew through the narrow streets. This was their idea of a bustling town, and he hadn’t even seen a single automobile on the graying asphalt yet. Then… a police cruiser rolled by towards the station in the centre of town.
The ground that lay ahead already had deep cracks, crevices, running through it in elabourate patterns. He saw every inch of the divots, understood every little thing they meant. They meant his job was going to be so much easier than he had expected.
At his feet laid the remnants of all that could’ve been. The teenager’s blood, streaked down the center median of the street. No one had bothered to wash it off. Pour water on it. Take a hose to it. It was just… there, red and raw. It didn’t shock him. It angered him. But he walked among the red, and let it fill him with anger, with purpose.
His tattered snakeskin boots made little noise, so thoroughly worn through that they knew his purpose, they knew his thoughts, probably before even he did. Still, every step was measured, almost careful, a cool calm that composed him. His tattered, torn jacket flowed from around his legs and hips as he moved closer to his destination, hands resting relaxed by his side. Everything was falling into place.
He watched, still, silent from the middle of the main street as the police cruiser parked outside of the station. The two men got out, and Samuel tried not to grit his teeth. Tried not to lock his knees. Tried not to clench his fists. He fought for focus, for calm, to keep from bringing down the entire town.
He knew his task. This was his right. And the town would tremble on their knees at his vengeance.
The men disappeared inside the building. Samuel took a long, deep breath, eyes fluttering shut briefly. The world felt like it had stopped, gone silent and frozen around him. Then the red rose again, threatening to pull him under.
He flexed his fingers, not fighting for control anymore. He wanted the fury. He wanted the violence. He wanted the frenzy. He raised his arms, palms directed at the stone building before him. Stone. Thank god. Made from the sheer earth he controlled.
And then the resolution fell upon the world. Telephone poles fell, light posts fell and broke into pieces on the intact asphalt. Dust streamed from the pillars of the building, as Samuel lifted his hands up to the level of his head, closing his fists slowly. He could feel every muscle, every sinew, quake, as the earth beneath him did. He gritted his teeth, eyes locked on the crumbling structure bathed in the same red he’d seen beneath his boots.
Large pieces of stone and marble fell heavily to the sidewalk. It all seemed to go at once, like the very ground opened to swallow the former department whole, to pull it down to the depths of Hell where Samuel knew it, and the people trapped inside, belonged.
His work done, Samuel turned, intensely satisfied by the angry, loud sounds behind him. He tried not to grin as his fingers relaxed, and his arms fell to his side. Not a minute later, silence reigned again.