I hope te like this. I wrote it because of my fanatical view of the JP series...
Prologue -
Deadly search,
As the mid-morning mist settled, a ‘tilt rotor’ aircraft sped over the ever raging waters of the Costa Rican coast. Searching for a desolate landscape, lieutenant J.Wittcombe sat in the passenger sede, sedile peering over the flashing dash board, muttering of how bored he was of leading, how hard done da he is and other sympathy seeking stories every three minutes. A large silhouette arose from the condensed world surrounding them. Over the intercom, Wittcombe confirmed their destination and then switching the microphone off, signalled the pilot to descend with ease. Once the helicopter had landed, the crew pursued into the surrounding foliage in cerca of a suitable terrain for vital training.
Venturing through the dense jungle, John Wittcombe beckoned his team onward. Being a leader of pretty much all the expeditions he was used to all the commanding and waving needed to sustain even the worst groups. All his life he had been in the army and toward the 40 anno old age group he found his life and job depressing. He had no care for fashion sense as all he wore was torn cachi, kaki and he rarely saw a professional hairdresser. An abrupt scream of a troubled bird signalled disruption in a nearby cluster of colossal trees, scarred da the elements of nature.
The silence continued.
Then a tremendous pounding of the ground echoed across the empty environment bringing the troop to the ground. The bushes parted revealing a giant head, scowling at the men. Its jaws slowly opened and closed, john could smell the vile breath that exhaled from the still creature. Revealing its full body, the huge creature attacked without any warning. Screaming, the group scattered, the spacious dirt track provided an easy route for the Titanic beast . As john was running he could hear deafening shrieks, he stared over his left shoulder and gagged as he saw a young lad being tossed into the air and then being crushed in the brutes mouth and swallowed as a crippled heap of bloody mess. Its shadow loomed over the lieutenant, he was determined to get away from this bizarre world of death and petrifying inhabitants. As he gasped for air he suddenly realised what this monstrous animal was… he had seen these things in libri and they clearly stated they were all dead, this was just impossible.
Horrified faces were staring at their leader, thinking about fellow recruits Lost in that 60 secondo madness.
Reaching their camp was another loss to add to their never ending list. As food, artillery and other lifesaving appliances were crushed into nothingness da a stampede, now just a distant murmur of footsteps and a dusty atmosphere. A sudden uproar came from , what was left of, the troop. Moans of pain and plans for mutiny began urging john away from the camp safety and into, once again, danger. As he swore to the sky and cursed his life, vague screams recommenced and high pitched squeals, like a oversized bird, replied. It continued for another 10 minuti and in that short spazio of time wittcombe just sobbed and begged for mercy but the sky’s did not reply, only a deep breathing behind him. With that John wittcombe, aged 38 made his final wish… that death would come painlessly and it would all end soon.
Once again I hope te enjoyed It and I would apreciate your comments!
Prologue -
Deadly search,
As the mid-morning mist settled, a ‘tilt rotor’ aircraft sped over the ever raging waters of the Costa Rican coast. Searching for a desolate landscape, lieutenant J.Wittcombe sat in the passenger sede, sedile peering over the flashing dash board, muttering of how bored he was of leading, how hard done da he is and other sympathy seeking stories every three minutes. A large silhouette arose from the condensed world surrounding them. Over the intercom, Wittcombe confirmed their destination and then switching the microphone off, signalled the pilot to descend with ease. Once the helicopter had landed, the crew pursued into the surrounding foliage in cerca of a suitable terrain for vital training.
Venturing through the dense jungle, John Wittcombe beckoned his team onward. Being a leader of pretty much all the expeditions he was used to all the commanding and waving needed to sustain even the worst groups. All his life he had been in the army and toward the 40 anno old age group he found his life and job depressing. He had no care for fashion sense as all he wore was torn cachi, kaki and he rarely saw a professional hairdresser. An abrupt scream of a troubled bird signalled disruption in a nearby cluster of colossal trees, scarred da the elements of nature.
The silence continued.
Then a tremendous pounding of the ground echoed across the empty environment bringing the troop to the ground. The bushes parted revealing a giant head, scowling at the men. Its jaws slowly opened and closed, john could smell the vile breath that exhaled from the still creature. Revealing its full body, the huge creature attacked without any warning. Screaming, the group scattered, the spacious dirt track provided an easy route for the Titanic beast . As john was running he could hear deafening shrieks, he stared over his left shoulder and gagged as he saw a young lad being tossed into the air and then being crushed in the brutes mouth and swallowed as a crippled heap of bloody mess. Its shadow loomed over the lieutenant, he was determined to get away from this bizarre world of death and petrifying inhabitants. As he gasped for air he suddenly realised what this monstrous animal was… he had seen these things in libri and they clearly stated they were all dead, this was just impossible.
Horrified faces were staring at their leader, thinking about fellow recruits Lost in that 60 secondo madness.
Reaching their camp was another loss to add to their never ending list. As food, artillery and other lifesaving appliances were crushed into nothingness da a stampede, now just a distant murmur of footsteps and a dusty atmosphere. A sudden uproar came from , what was left of, the troop. Moans of pain and plans for mutiny began urging john away from the camp safety and into, once again, danger. As he swore to the sky and cursed his life, vague screams recommenced and high pitched squeals, like a oversized bird, replied. It continued for another 10 minuti and in that short spazio of time wittcombe just sobbed and begged for mercy but the sky’s did not reply, only a deep breathing behind him. With that John wittcombe, aged 38 made his final wish… that death would come painlessly and it would all end soon.
Once again I hope te enjoyed It and I would apreciate your comments!
