Post by foster336 on Mar 17, 2008 16:01:10 GMT -5
(Open, But I only really need: Jack, Locke, Sayid, Sawyer and Claire. But anyone interested can join in )
The sky darkened and a low grumble of thunder filled the air. Quick and sudden flashes of lightning lit up the hazy Grey daytime sky. A slight drizzle of rain patted down on the rusted worn out roof on the freighter. The wind and waves rocked the boat gently. Shouts of the ships crew echoed from above on the deck.
Under the deck was a room, It was small dark and dank, The smell of dried blood lingered in the air, The only light came from the corner of the room where a candle on a desk was lit. The shadows the candlelight produced happily danced on the walls. It was from the candle light you could see a blotch of red on the north wall where either someone killed them selfs or someone was killed.
The candle light illuminated most of the room, but near the candle is what is important, Here is where a man was hunched over the desk scribbling away on a journal, scratches of the pencil meeting the paper was nothing compared to the sounds of the low growling thunder. Sweat beaded around the man's forehead as he wrote, his eyes were wide and the expression on his face was a mix of confusion and panic. As he wrote his Scottish accent was barely at a whisper as he quickly repeated "4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42" "4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42"
Close up on the journal, Torn pages scattered all over the desk, Broken pencils and candle wax. It looks by the mess the man has been in here for years, But that is a lie, It has only been around a week. Clutched in the man's left hand in a picture, A picture that meant the world to him. In his right hand a pencil was scribbling down these mysterious numbers that were so familiar to him to the man. Under the numbers were six names: John Locke, James Ford, Claire Littleton, Sayid Jarrah, Jack Shepard, and Penelope Whidmore. There was one more name at the bottom of the list the sixth name this one was dark, it seemed to be bolded Charlie Pace. Beside Charlie's name was the words "Not Penny's Boat".
Desmond closed his eyes and tried to remember "Not Penny's Boat" What did that mean? He knew someone told him this, Was it Charlie? Those names they were on his mind. He knew all of them right now, But he needed to remember what happened, What happened to Charlie? The man turned to the journal that Daniel Faraday gave him. Daniel told him to write down all the details, even the smallest.
The thoughts still ran through his mind, He closed his eyes once more and thought as hard as he could. He saw images in his head, A small European man, Dirty Blonde hair and Desmond seemed to be yelling his name "Charlie, Charlie" He then saw him drown. Desmond's eyes shot open he shot out of his seat and the chair fell back on the floor with a thud. He wrenched open the door as he ran down the hall shouting "I remember it, I remember what happened"! He needed to find Jack, or someone. He took off down the hallway and turned the corner sharply.
The sky darkened and a low grumble of thunder filled the air. Quick and sudden flashes of lightning lit up the hazy Grey daytime sky. A slight drizzle of rain patted down on the rusted worn out roof on the freighter. The wind and waves rocked the boat gently. Shouts of the ships crew echoed from above on the deck.
Under the deck was a room, It was small dark and dank, The smell of dried blood lingered in the air, The only light came from the corner of the room where a candle on a desk was lit. The shadows the candlelight produced happily danced on the walls. It was from the candle light you could see a blotch of red on the north wall where either someone killed them selfs or someone was killed.
The candle light illuminated most of the room, but near the candle is what is important, Here is where a man was hunched over the desk scribbling away on a journal, scratches of the pencil meeting the paper was nothing compared to the sounds of the low growling thunder. Sweat beaded around the man's forehead as he wrote, his eyes were wide and the expression on his face was a mix of confusion and panic. As he wrote his Scottish accent was barely at a whisper as he quickly repeated "4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42" "4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42"
Close up on the journal, Torn pages scattered all over the desk, Broken pencils and candle wax. It looks by the mess the man has been in here for years, But that is a lie, It has only been around a week. Clutched in the man's left hand in a picture, A picture that meant the world to him. In his right hand a pencil was scribbling down these mysterious numbers that were so familiar to him to the man. Under the numbers were six names: John Locke, James Ford, Claire Littleton, Sayid Jarrah, Jack Shepard, and Penelope Whidmore. There was one more name at the bottom of the list the sixth name this one was dark, it seemed to be bolded Charlie Pace. Beside Charlie's name was the words "Not Penny's Boat".
Desmond closed his eyes and tried to remember "Not Penny's Boat" What did that mean? He knew someone told him this, Was it Charlie? Those names they were on his mind. He knew all of them right now, But he needed to remember what happened, What happened to Charlie? The man turned to the journal that Daniel Faraday gave him. Daniel told him to write down all the details, even the smallest.
The thoughts still ran through his mind, He closed his eyes once more and thought as hard as he could. He saw images in his head, A small European man, Dirty Blonde hair and Desmond seemed to be yelling his name "Charlie, Charlie" He then saw him drown. Desmond's eyes shot open he shot out of his seat and the chair fell back on the floor with a thud. He wrenched open the door as he ran down the hall shouting "I remember it, I remember what happened"! He needed to find Jack, or someone. He took off down the hallway and turned the corner sharply.