There are various elements that make up a great story—plot, story development, character growth, depth. All of these contribute to turning a good story into a great story. However, one more element that can spice up your story is a good action scene.
But how do you write a good action scene? Here are five tips to get you started….
Photo by Kelly Bailey
1. Read!
Great writers read, so why not give The Mistborn Trilogy a shot? Brandon Sanderson perfectly executed each one of the action scenes in his books (and believe me, there are a lot of them). If you want to study good action scenes, check out his books.
2. Character Development.
Take time to make readers care for your characters. After all, they’ll be the ones doing the fighting. Develop them so when the action scene finally comes, your readers will care enough about the characters to want to know what happens. Getting your readers emotionally involved is key to keeping them entertained.
3. Visualize Your Scenes.
If you, the writer, cannot visualize the fight, expect the readers to have trouble as well. Visualize how each moment of the scenes will take place.
Try writing multiple ways of how the scene plays out. Ask other people to read them out. Did they like what they read? Were they able to picture out a clear image of the fight?
Remember: Action scenes don’t always involve fights. They can also be about your protagonist trying to race against time to stop a time bomb. But they always must be clearly written.
4. Spice up your verbs.
Verbs are the bread and butter of every action scene. After all, action scenes need action words. Whenever I write action scenes, I make it a point to make use of the thesaurus.
If you just used the word block, try using “parry” next. Make use of energetic like “streaked”, “slammed”, or “punched.”
Below is a sample action scene:
The two swords clanged against each other. Barbaros shouted as he spun around and swung his sword sideways. Luka deflected the blow with his shield. Barbaros lost his footing. Luka saw the opening. He roared and drove the tip of his sword into Barbaros’ side.
5. Increase the pace.
One way of speeding up the pace of your story is by shortening the sentences. Longer sentences tend to slow down the momentum of the action. Another tip is to avoid using long descriptions. Use descriptions only if they are related to the action, otherwise completely abandon them.
PRACTICE
For fifteen minutes, write an action scene using tip number four.
Post your exercises in the comments section below and don’t forget to comment on other people’s exercises as well.
Maybe its because I’m from L.A. but I always write out my action scenes as a screenplay first. It helps me “see” the action. Thanks for the great tips. I fully intend on using them!
That’s a great idea. Never thought to do that, but it makes sense. I have had my kids act out what I have written so I can make sure it plays correctly.
Both good ideas, guys!
As someone who is new to writing action scenes, I appreciate the tips offered in this post and learning about how other writers approach them.
Another advantage of having children. Haha. Nice Alisha. 🙂
I’ve to agree. This is a nice tip. Scripting it down will make visualizing it easier. Thanks Leti. 🙂
Well, heck. This is a different kind of battle, but it’s what happened when I sat down to write.
Thunder and Lightning
His hand is on the small of my back, and he’s leading me
onto the dance floor. We bump into a
couple dressed alike: bandana print shirts, Wranglers, turquoise boots, and
this man with his hand on my back tips his cowboy hat and smiles.
We find a spot and he pulls me to him, right up against him,
so close you couldn’t get a toothpick between us in any of the important
places.
The band is playing “Our Kind of Love” by Lady Antebellum,
so loud is ricochets against the tin walls.
He pushes his leg between the two of mine, and we turn around the dance
floor like that, slower than the music, but it doesn’t seem to matter.
When the song ends this god in a starched white shirt leads
me to the end of the bar and orders me another White Russian. “Drink,” he says, and I do.
He tilts my head up with one finger, and looks me in the
eye. “Let your hair down,” he says, and
again I obey. I work through the braid that starts at the top of my head, and
my blond hair tumbles, curls as unruly as weeds, until it rests between my
shoulder blades.
I reach up to tame it, and he says. “Don’t,” he says and then
tosses his hat on the bar.
I stop.
His mouth is on my neck now. He smells of whiskey and cinnamon
gum. My fingers are digging into the
muscles of his arm.
My knees go weak, and he catches me, his arms around my
waist, and I feel the way you want to feel in a man’s arms: small and light and
shining.
His right hand slides down into the pocket of my jeans. “Tight fit,” I say, and try to laugh. He looks at me, gray eyes with green
flecks. I am falling, I think.
“I can bring the lightning and the thunder,” he says, and
I believe him. “I can corral the
stars,” he says, and it sounds like poetry.
I raise my hands to his throat. I want to feel him speak. He is hot, like fire, and his pulse thrums, strong as a racehorse. The band is playing again, James Taylor’s “Copperline”
and I am done for, but I don’t care tonight. I don’t care the least little bit.
That was definitely an action scene. Action is not my strong suit so I maybe shouldn’t comment but I think this was excellent. I like the poetry of course “I can corral the stars” What a great line for a seductive cowboy to use.
Thanks Marianne. There’s just something about cowboys!
Actions don’t always have swords and guns. This is an excellent example. 🙂
Nice writing, Marla.
Thank you JB! Thanks for the great post. So helpful.
soooo hot Marla! You’ve done it again.
Thanks!
Ye haw! That was intense. Your action was executed excellently.
Ye haw! And thank you!
I could’ve used more descriptive words, but I felt I did a decent job for my first fight scene.
Mathew collapses to the pavement. The white crescent shape of his fingernails are still imprinted into my arm, almost deep enough to draw blood. Anyone else would have known not to attack my right side, but he was never the sharpest. I wrestle the sword from his grip and throw his pack over my shoulder.
Most of my allies are still caught up in battle. Abby duels Sabrina, while Kayla fights a close battle with Ryan. She grabs her leg, crying out in pain, and I am about to run over to help when she lashes out and catches the boy in the stomach with a hard blow. Ryan’s moment of hesitation gave my friend an opportunity, and she took it. Leave it to Kayla to come up with such a plan!
She lost her weapon in another match-up, though, and I toss her Mathew’s sword. She mouths a thank-you before almost immediately engaging a fight with a nameless boy.
I streak through the courtyard, dodging weapons and blows, and am halfway across the bridge when I see it. Malorn’s staff, positioned at the very top of the Training tower. It’s glowing with a soft radiance and I know I have little time. A quick glance behind me ensures no one is following, so knife in hand, I start up the stairs.
I could see no one in the tower from below, but did I really expect getting the staff would be so easy? When I reach the second floor I’m immediately tackled and slammed onto my stomach. Someone grabs my legs and pulls me across the room before letting me up. Even if the stairways weren’t now blocked, getting the wind knocked out of me has done nothing to aid me in planning an escape.
The girl waits until I regain my breath before immediately knocking me in the jaw. I stumble backwards and she strikes me again, this time in the temple. My vision blurs for a moment and I flail my arms around in some wild attempt to hit her, but she just laughs and sticks a leg out, making me crash to the floor.
“Malorn said you would be difficult,” she says, yanking me up, only to throw me to the floor again. “I promised him I was more than up to the challenge. Problem is, you’re not providing one.”
I stumble to my feet, hoping the look I give her is as sharp as I think it is, but she just smirks. “Somehow I think he overestimated you.”
I throw an elbow her direction, but she jumps out of the way. She throws a punch at me, but I duck and aim a kick at her shin. She takes a step back, calculating. I take a breath too but before I know it, she has my arms behind me and a knife at my throat. She noticed my hesitation and took advantage—just like Kayla, I realize with a shudder. I hope the similarities end there.
“I really am disappointed in you, Jessica. I did hope you’d be tougher. Fighting does get old after a while if no one else tries to put up a fight.”
So she hasn’t noticed the knife that’s been hidden in my fist the whole time. My arms are almost completely trapped between her body and mine, but if I can just—get—a little bit of—space—
“Trying to escape now? I’m afraid it’s too late, Jessica. Even if you could get away, your friends are all busy down in the courtyard. No one can help you, Jess—”
She cries out as my knife pierces her gut. It’s not a deep gauge, but it gets me some valuable time. While she’s bent over, holding her stomach, I knock her into the wall. She slowly pushes herself up but I shove her back down hard. She hits her head back on the wall and slumps to the floor. She doesn’t move after that.
It’s almost funny how remarkably similar all of Malorn’s fighters are. Like Mathew, once I took advantage of her overconfidence, she was nothing more than a regular kid. She’s slumped against the wall, but I don’t have time to make sure she’s unconscious. Her makeshift barrier is nothing more than a stack of furniture and I squeeze through an opening before once again tearing off up the stairs.
This is really full of action fighting and you ramp it up by putting them in a stairwell where their is no escape. I think it’s very hard to do this kind of thing in first person present, but you manage it. It was very much like watching an action movie.
Talk about fast paced. Nice job. Though there are times when you shift from present to past but the action itself (and the story) are really good. I love the sneaky dagger at the last part. Thanks for sharing this with us Alison. 🙂
Such great action. The ending is perfect.
Excellent tips! I also have a big pet peeve when reading action scenes that become redundant. Big fan of Harlan Coben, but anytime it comes to fisticuffs somebody is getting hit in the solar plexus. Over and over again it’s the solar plexus. A thesaurus would do wonders to make those scenes so much better!
Agree. Redundant action scenes makes me want to just skip over the thing and start reading what happens next.
Before I got out of the car, I’d seen what I wanted to photograph. A large turkey was standing beside the hydrangea bushes in front of the fence, strutting and making a pleasant low clucking sound. The turkey seemed to want to have his picture taken at first. He paraded toward me in the bright sunlight, his head held high, his fancy tail flared into an arc. But then, all of a sudden, just as I raised the camera to my face, he attacked me. Holding his head forward he rushed furiously forward, and then leapt at me, all the while emitting a turkey scream, loud and shrill. It was a ragged angry sound.
“Watch out,” yelled my cousin.
I let go of the camera and jumped away from his beak just as he jabbed at me the first time.
He missed.
I dashed for the front gate with him right behind.
He was running low to the ground almost flying. The feathers of his body were fluffed out making him look huge.
As I swiveled around the gate to get in, he struck me with his sharp beak. I felt a sharp jab in my thigh, but I kept moving. I swung around the gate and jerked it shut after me. He hit the wire gate with his claws just as it shut.
Once inside we talked about Jeckle, the turkey and I tried to calm down. My cousin loved the old bird and thought she understood why he was unusually peevish that day. Heckle, his brother, had been killed earlier in the week by a dog. She wondered aloud if Jeckle was trying to avenge his brother’s death or was just suffering from irritable depression.
I calmed down a bit, and went to the kitchen for some water. Jeckle was just outside the kitchen window twisting his long neck to stare at me. He made a sound like a squeaking wheel, a shrill, ugly, threatening sound. He got closer to the window and I could see the pupils of his eyes, black and dialated, surrounded by red and white folds of skin. I could see the veins in the skin like on a chicken when you cut it up to fry it. We eat people eat you guys, I thought.
I carried the water back to the living room where my cousin sat.
“Oh look Jeck is stalking you,” she said and gestured to the side window where he now stood moving his head back and forward looking at me with that glittering eye.
Oh. Haha. Wow. This is good marianne. A psychotic turkey out for revenge. I love it!!
I like the build up of tension from the beginning which led to the action. Nicely done. 🙂
Thanks JB. I wanted something vivid to describe. I need to work on action scenes a lot more.
I like this. Love the turkeys’ names, and the descriptions are so vivid. Great action.
Thanks!
Very nice Marianne. I like the conflict. The sentence “we let people eat you guys”from behind the window escalates the situation and makes Jeck’s stalking in the next paragraph much more dangerous.
Thanks. It should have said “We people eat you guys” Sorry. I read them over and still post with errors. I appreciate the compliment especially because I think action is the hardest thing to write.
Turkey’s are terrifying and I can relate!! Loved that you worked the word peevish in! (ugh! Wish I’d worked it into my piece as well!). Loved the line: the feather of his body were fluffed out, making him look huge.
Thanks Alisha
Hi Marianne. Nice short piece. I haven’t been around for a while — have been knee-deep in the work of building my website — but the last time I was here commenting I seem to recall I made mention of the chicken feet in your story. Now it’s a turkey! 🙂
Yes, I’ve been hanging out at my cousins farm a lot recently. It’s full of chickens and one turkey was there but he’s gone thank goodness. He really was mean, and could probably hurt a child. I get all inspired out there. I’m trying to do a website too. It’s harder than I thought it was going to be.
Wow that’s so great you get to go to the countryside. I’m feeling very clogged up and citified at the moment. Sometimes we writers need to clear our heads…
Yes, I have to agree, the website has exceeded my expectations in terms of work involved, and now in terms of hassle trying to get it operational. After 6 weeks of slog (I started compiling folders for it way before I started the actual building), I’ve been trying to launch since Sunday. First the domain name wasn’t ‘activated’. Stick yet another $100 at it, and wait to see if it catches. But nothing! Last night I found out from Godaddy that my ‘server is not pointed at the host’. I feel like I’m lost in the wilds of the twilight zone!! Today apparently Weebly should have sent me the IP address? I didn’t even know these terms before this week… so yes big sigh. But… with a bit of luck there will be a happy ending… like soon?
This was so hard. I didn’t get very far in 15 minutes. I found myself trying to fix it as I wrote, which I don’t normally do while writing. I will definitely be taking some more time to work on the technique of writing action scenes. So tough!
***********************
She cowered on the couch underneath his
mass. “Please…stop!”
His eyes bulged out as far as they
would go without popping. “You..,” spit gathered at the corners
of his mouth, “…need to LEAVE! GO!” He quaked from head to
foot, any movement and she’d feel the strike.
She dropped her arm to the floor to
slink from the couch.
He grabbed her arm. “Let me go! I’m
trying to leave!”
His thick, right leg swung over her
lower half still on the couch. “I warned you!” Sprays of spit
splashed her face as her left arm bent back farther then she ever
knew it could. Her face became one with the couch cushion. Air was
necessity now. His weight heavy on her twisted body, she heard a
deafening snap. Pain burned through her shoulder and down the side
of her spine.
She struggled against the black room
that swallowed her. It laid her into waiting hands of relief.
That is very vivid. It’s made so much more dramatic by the man saying she should leave and then not letting her leave. How frightening.
Thank you Marianne…I was just reading about domestic violence and controlling relationships in a magazine. That was what stuck in my mind from the article. The abuser was extremely manipulative and contradictory. On one hand he wanted her to do as he said, but when she tried to remove herself from the abuse, he wouldn’t allow her to leave. Definitely a scary situation!
This is very well written, trish. The scene is very intense and the emotion’s very palpable. It was a short piece but I found myself attached to the girl. I really hoped this will end happily.
Thank you JB! You gave me a run for my money! That was a tough exercise for me, which is why it turned out so short. It was rather scary to put myself where the girl was to write out the scene. I’ve never been in that situation, but I know it happens to a lot of people, unfortunately! Thank you for reading!
I could see it. Intense. I kind of wanted to close my eyes (not a bad thing.. as far as your writing goes).
Thank you, that’s a great compliment considering this was really a tough one for me! 🙂
Oof! Ouch! I’m twanging after reading that 🙂
Went with a true story here… a family favorite.
“What?” I ask, distracted.
I have been working on taxes for two hours now and my head is trapped in
a fog of numbers and deductions.
“I was asking about the truck,” says the stranger in
overalls, the man who’s spent the last three days making a mess of my kitchen
as he works to wrestles the new cabinetry into place
I stare at him blankly.
My head is stuck in calculations and this doesn’t compute.
“The new one… the Ford.
It’s parked in your driveway…” he prompts.
“Oh, right, sorry,” I say, although I’m still confused why the cabinet guy who
hasn’t said a word all week is suddenly speaking. “We needed a bigger vehicle,” I say nodding
at the two-month-old baby asleep in the playpen by my desk. I toss another nod at my hard-to-miss four
year old with his plastic tool belt drooping under the weight of his Fisher
Price tools. He had to have stuck every tool he had in there, no doubt trying to impress the new guy. I smile.
“So you went with the diesel?” the man in overalls asks.
I shrug, “I honestly have no idea. It’s my husband’s truck and I’ve been pretty busy these last few months.”
“Well you should know,” he says firmly.
“If you’d done your research you’d know that Diesel’s are loud and dirty
and they stink. They shouldn’t be allowed on the road.”
Had he really just interrupted my work to lecture me about
my truck? We stare at each other, me
incredulous, him high and mighty.
A small voice made huge with rage startles both of us,
“DON’T YOU TALK ABOUT MY BROTHER LIKE THAT!”
I watch as the sweetest boy I have ever met simultaneously yanks a
plastic saw and a plastic hammer out of his tool belt, John Wayne style. He lunges forward, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
The man takes a saw to the groin and a hammer
to the kneecap.
“River no!” I scream, jumping up. I’m running as fast as I can but it isn’t
fast enough.
The man puts a hand on River’s head and tries to hold him at
bay. River twists and bites his
forearm. The man yelps, leaping back,
but River has him pinned against the refrigerator. Using the saw he karate chops his shins again
and again, first one then then other.
The man dances from foot to foot.
“What is the matter with you people!” he screams.
I grab my son and pin his arms to his side. Understanding dawns. “Baby, he’s
talking about daddies truck, not your brother,” I coo, trying to calm him. River struggles to get free, murder in his
eyes.
“That kid should be put on a leash!” the man spits.
“His brother’s name is Diesel! He thought you were calling his brother, dirty and loud and smelly!” I scream. “And you want to know what I think? I think Diesel is lucky to have a brother who is willing to fight a man four times his size to protect him. Now get the hell out of my kitchen
so I can give my hero some ice cream.”
What a RUDE contractor! My husband is a mason and he would NEVER talk to a customer like that. How unprofessional! This made me crack up though. So glad you yelled at him and put him in his place. And your son is awesome to defend his brother like that! 🙂
River is 11 now and that was his first and only fight (so far). SO FUNNY when I think back on it. I have three boys now and those Knight boys are not to be messed with. They stick together! And I admit…. Mama bear comes out when my kids are involved.
Just passing through, researching writing tips, and I stumble across this gem. Only four times in my life had I laughed this much my eyes produced tears! I feel like I busted a lung, and my gut hurts.
But this is so sweet and amazing; at that age, your son knows how to look out for family.
I think number three is key. As an addition, you need to outline the visualization as well, because you won’t visualize it the same way you originally did when you go to put it on paper. You need a guide to remind you where the action went, and it might have to be very specific at times.
Love 3 and 4! They are the key to creating intrigue in a reader’s mind. Certainly got me with your sample scene. Here’s mine:
Faith swung her fist against John’s jaw. John staggered but gained his footing again. He wiped the trickle of blood streaming from his broken lip and rounded his fists, starting to dance his arms.
Faith remained poised for attack. She moved in rhythm to his dance. She noticed he watched her like a hawk and concentrated on the movement of his shoulders, wanting to anticipate his next move.
In an instant, John moved so fast. He spun and threw a punch, aiming for the center of her face. She caught his punch in her fist and pushed back. The push caused her to stagger.
Faith instinctively knew what would follow. John would take advantage of her blunder. He brushed behind her legs, and she tripped and fell.
He had won this round.
Hi JB! I was interested to read this because I have had to incorporate fight scenes into my WIP. I’ll have to re-read the scenes now and interrogate them. Worst even than this, my trilogy The Grandfather Diaries ends up with a war!! Can you imagine? It was a mega challenge.
punch punch kapow uppercut in the face what today it is neck in neck jack finally comes finisher the death drop
Hey! This is a fight scene from this novel I’m writing. I’d really appreciate any comments. If you enjoyed it, tell me why. If you just didn’t know what the hell is going on…well, tell me why! Thanks in advance!
********
I blocked her sideways swing to my left side and pushed her sword away. We began circling each other again.
I watched her every move. She was lithe, graceful and light-footed. Her wrists were powerful, and she was unbelievably agile. She would attack with flicks of her wrist and defend by slight deflections and quick dodges, a fighting style that involved minimal physical contact and maximum strike damage.
She attacked again, stepping forward and flicking her wrist out. I blocked the blur that was her blade, but she was quick. Without giving me time to recover, she swirled around and slashed at my right flank, tip pointed up. I almost failed to block her strike, barely deflecting it off of my neck. She just pulled her sword back and slashed downwards at my shins. She smacked them with the flat of the blade, knocking me off my feet. As I fell, I saw her turn around and bring her sword down in a kill strike.
As the blade descended, the world started running in bullet time. I saw the point of her sword speeding towards my gut. Almost automatically, my legs lifted up and my back bent double. I somersaulted backwards and found my feet again. Her sword rushed right past my nose, followed by the rest of her body, as she stumbled forward in surprise. I smiled and swung at her exposed back, fully expecting a win.
Of course, it wasn’t that easy. As I swung downwards, she stopped her fall with her free hand and used it to twist around, so she was flat on her back. She lifted her sword just in time to meet mine. She ducked under our conjoined blades and pulled her sword back. With nothing to opposed the force I had put into the strike, I was pushed off-balance. I stumbled forward. I converted the fall into a forward roll, narrowly avoiding her downward hack. That was two kill-strikes I’d dodged, versus her one.
We paused and began circling again.
I took a good look at her sword. It was a straight, double edged blade with a silver cross-guard. The cross guard gave me an idea. I formed a rudimentary plan of attack.
I stepped forward, engaging her sword head on, but instead of a short clash, I kept the pressure on her blade, pushing against her. The suddenness of the attack made her retreat, but I wasn’t done. As she stepped back, I stepped on one of her toes. As she lost balance and fell backwards, I caught her sword’s cross-guard on the edge of my blade then rotated, hacking out behind me. Her sword slipped right out of her hands and flew across the room, embedding itself into the wall…
********
Once again, any feedback will by highly appreciated.
Here’s my scene I wrote. 😀
~*~
His hands tighten on my wrists as he draws me closer. While he’s busy leering at me, my mind is formulating a plan that I have always envisioned, but never tried.
I jump in the air.
His eyes widen in shock, and he frantically pulls on my wrists to try and catch me, but I’m already in the air. I shoot my legs forward and up, catching him in the stomach with a hard kick, using his grip as support.
He bends over, letting my hands go. I throw my now-free hands back and do a back-flip (thank god for those gymnastic lessons), whacking the man in the jaw with my boots. When I land, I look up to see the man on his knees, clutching both his stomach and his jaw.
The adrenaline I had felt is gone, but soon comes back as I just realize what I’ve done. I pump the air with my fists, wishing that someone is there to see what I just did.
“Takara?” asks a voice behind me.
Oh. Fudge.
Hey! This is a scene I wrote for imaginative writing. I’d really appreciate any comments. If you enjoyed it, tell me why.If you want to give me constructive critism then go ahead
“Good men must die, but death cannot
kill their names.”
A child of 5 years
ran towards me. I heard his tiny footsteps paced along the cold dark ground towards
me. I embraced him, my cheeks stained with the endless stream of tears,
enduring the emotional pain that continued to engulf me. Then a samurai paced
towards me. “Give him back” he growled. I refused and held him tight. “ Orders
are orders give him back or prepare to die” Anger grew inside me and I
exclaimed with a booming voice “ Never !” “Then I shall take him by force” “Over
my dead body” I told my boy to run and never turn around, he refused but he had
to. Tears streaming down my eyes I said mournfully “Good men must die, but
death cannot kill their names. I must die, run and never come back. I love you”
He couldn’t do nothing paralysed in fear. His eyes started to swell and turn
red, unable to move, speak or breathe. Nothing. Pearl shaped tears started
rolling down his cheeks one by one till it was a stream of salty tears. I wiped
the tears off and the samurai grabbed him from my grip. I held on tight, fear,
anger misery grew inside my heart pounded like the thundering hooves of a
thousand stallions. I pushed him and recover the boy and told him. Please for
me and there he ran. He ran as fast as he could and there he disappeared into
the woods. But he came back with my katana. “You have told me to never give up
and I WILL NEVER GIVE UP!”
“How dare you!” “You
samurais are so full of yourselves; if you have orders you don’t care what you
to people”. I grasped the hilt of the katana from the boy. Adrenaline rushed
along my body. I felt a surge of energy flow into my hands and finger sparking
with power. My left foot stepped backed as I drew out the katana and moved the
sword in an arc over. I square my body ready to attack. He gripped his katana and heaved it out
crating a scratching noise. He charged at me with the katana upheld, going to
his fore swing and following it with a backswing. My katana met his and our
eyes met. I saw the fear deep in his eyes. I pushed him back with my sword and
managed to throw a kick to his stomach. He stumbled and staggered but recovered
looking more determined than ever. We circled each other. He took another shot,
this arching shot was to quick and he his katana tore the fabric of my shirt
inches away from my body. He managed to smirk and turned left and swung his sword
towards me which I managed to parry. Swing. Swing. Swing I pushed forward
swinging him with a number of attacks. The first two found his sword but the
third one found flesh. The katana ate through him like air. Blood crept out
from his wound. He fell down onto one knee using his sword as support he got
back up and swung at me. My sword stood like a wave-beaten rock and took the
blow like it was nothing. I tightened my grip and smashed him back swifter than
the twinkling of an eye. In shock he lost his grip and his sword dropped. Clink
Clink.
I saw victory and
grasped it and just as I was about to execute him the boy came up and stopped
me. I just cut his torso and left him to die. I dropped my sword and left. However
the samurai never gave up. He took both of the sword on the floor and ran
towards me. I immediately punched his jaw and made him stumble. He groaned in
agony, but I gave no mercy as he started to strike his sword towards my body,
the katana eating through my skin and flesh I moved forward. I kicked the sword
from his hand and picked it up and with anger flaming inside me I opened my
heart. Misery, anger power sparked in my hand and I attacked. Clink. Clank.
Ours swords always met. He was very defensive but I was on the offense. His
eyes grew a bright red and mine grew a sky blue and my battle scars started to
stich up and I recovered. His body started to glow a crimson red like a phoenix
and with lighting speed he attacked our swords crossed sparkling in the sun. Clanking
blades echoed across the red ground mixed with the dull sound of steel biting
into each other’s flesh.
I felt a cool
sensation as my body wrapped itself in water and my sword glowed a bright blue.
I swung my sword over his head and his sword pushed mine but I wasn’t finished.
I punched his face and swung my sword across his chest and pushed it and blood flowed
out but his body wrapped in flames melted my sword as well. My sword melted
away into nothing. I fell of exhaustion. I have lost I said in sadness. He
stood there determined. Ready to pounce. But he was falling into pieces flames
started to extinguish out, his eyes started to water, tears streamed from his
eyes. He fell and I ran to help him. He said “Sorry, but you have won; your
blade cut though my heart” That voice reminded me of my dad, my master my
sensei. “Dad” I shouted. “Son” he said gasping for air. “Our fate was chosen to
be like this, Goodbye Son” The boy ran towards me and hugged me. “Dad who is
that?” “My dad son my father, why? Why? Him” Sadness engulfed my heart and I
fell grieving for my father. His last words “ Kill me son, KILL ME NOW” Relentlessly
I slashed his torso and killed him.
“Good men must die, but death cannot
kill their names.”
Short scene from a story I´m writting
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Suddenly a boy with a red jacket appaered in front of him. He had the same posture as a lion mother protecting her pups. But he had a frightening aura. He was ready to kill. One second later he was barbary punching the bully. The stranger was throwing his best ones to the bully´s face not giving him a chance to defense himself. The stranger tried to slam him on the torso but failed when the bully moved aside in his agony of the other punches. It was his chance. The bully kicked the stranger on the knees without a lot of force, but the stranger instead jumped and kicked his head doing a difficult acrobacy. The bully was knocked out.
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The boy just could stay where he was that 5 seconds of brutal fight. The red jacket boy turned and the boy was able to see his scary face with a wild smile drew on it. The time was slow down then the boy who was sit a second ago know is stand up avoiding the multiple attacks the red jacket boy was throwing making him make steps back. When the boy felt a tree behind his back and saw a punch going to his face he blocked with his arms. He inmediatly felt how strong was his oponent and his istinct make him kick his opponent with his knee on the stomach and start to run. But the other one make him fall kicking his legs. And when the boy tried to stand up the wild red jacket boy put a foot on him and pull his arms up inmovilizing him. The fight was over.
Did you like it? that´s good.
Drake was grinning after he deflected the spear that was tossed by Yuma.
“I did what I can. You may have the power to destroy a city in a swoop but don’t get the idea of defeating me. My psychic power is stronger that yours” Drake said with a grin on his face
Yuma knew that Drake is his par in terms of psychic power, but what bothers him is that the difference on their skills and experience from using it.
Yuma didn’t bother saying anything. The next thing he did is to float in the air and vanished. Drake suddenly on his guard and alerted himself of attacks that will come.
“Where he might be?” He thought
Suddenly, big things came flying above the sky. Cars, trucks, stones, blocks and trees. They were all flying and quickly moved directly to Drake.
While Drake is watching the floating things flying towards him while on his guard. He raised his right hand up and created a barrier that will protect him and the things crushed him.
Yuma went out again after being invisible. He knew that Drake can’t survive his attack.
He watch the hill of tossed things on Drake and walked away. As he was on his away, he felt the ground was rumbling. He looked back and saw light went out inside from the hill of things.
The next thing happend is that the hill of things got blown away in one fell swoop. He saw Drake’s face really mad at him but he prepares himself for the worse.
Drake hold his face like he was crying. After a few seconds he remove his hands and his facr became john cena