Hello WBO! I have been writing for quite a while, and have one beyblade story thread up already. But this story I have been working on since the seventh grade and have been writing(like with a pen and paper) it avidly. I have yet to put it online anywhere, so I figured why not start here, since this is a great community.
The Dark Side to War
For those that are reading or have just read this, yes this story is STEAMPUNK, because steampunk is awesome. For those that don't know, the general idea of steampunk is to take a period of history and alter, and it generaly revolves around a war. So i took WWI and altered the phase of technology that is everpresent during that time period. Most steampunk stories include odd creatures(mutations or specialy bred combos) and dirigibles. It always the dirigibles. But this is only the proluge of the story and I have 11 chapters written in pen and pencil that I need to type. I will have more soon, but need to alter chapter 1 as it begins a year to the day after the prolouge. Thanks for reading!!!
Prolouge
Gideon awoke to the sun of the Maine sky bursting with raidence, streaming into his bedroom window; if you could call it a bedroom. He sat up, threw off the cover and brushed the dust and little flakes of dirt of his legs and face. Putting his legs over the side, he stood up, nearly cracking his skull on the ceiling.
Gideon lived in the attic of his parents home in Limerick, Maine. He was seventeen, but even at that age, he was quite tall.
He stalked over to his dresser and opened the only drawer with clothes in it. He pulled out a pair of jeans, an old t-shirt and socks. Getting dressed, managing to get himself another spider bite, making three in two days.
His parents had never had much money, and his mom working as a store clerk, it made sense. But now Gideon was a clerk as well, it order to support himself and his parnets. There was no minimum wage law in 1917, at least not in Limerick, so he and his mom got paid when their employer felt, 'in the mood'. Now that meant a penny one a month, and the next months salary was what was left from the month prior. It was technically aganist the law, but their employer had the law on his side, so nobody rasied hell, and Gideon's family lived in the pits. As Gideon trudged down the fold up attic stairs, his father shot past him into the kitchen and out the door.
"Bye dad!," Gideon tried to hollar after him, but to no avail.
His father was a scienctist and was working on a weapon to finally end the war, but he was not employed. He managed to get a single grant fromt the government to start reasearch, but since, he had been scavaging scrapyards and steel mills for two years. Stepping out onto the porch, Gideon looked up and watched as, just as yesterday, his fathers science partner and closest friend, Johane, shook his fathers hand and they retreated in the magnifcent looming mass on cloth and explosives behind them.
The Vulture was dark blue dirigible approximatly 175ft in length and stood 55ft high. A sight to behold, she ran on hyrogen and a steam engine located below the bridge.
As the massive airship took off, it nearly snagged the weather vain Gideon had built as child, so as to help Johane when he took off. As the dirigible loomed out of sight, Gideon sighed reluctantly. Apparently, his father had finally finished the weapon he had dreamed of. It supposedly shared the same characteristics as the mordern dirigible and streamlined steam engine, but was the opposite. Gideon was an intelligent young man, and his father said someday he ought to become a scienctist, but Gideon couldn't imagine what his father meant. It wasn't a boat, nor a U-boat. After the sinking of the Lusitania by a German U-boat, the government had been franatic over submariens and submarine attack protection. Hut his fathers idea was different, something that he said would shock the world.
Heading out back to tand to the animals that supplied their food, he watched the dot that was the Vulturegrow smaller and smaller and smaller. Bending down to pet their small beagle, Sam, a loud pop echoed from a southernly direction. Jerking upright, Gideon scanned his property. Nothing. Looking to the sky, a orange blip had appeared near the Vultures flight path. Bolting back into and out of the house, he jumped into the oldest and oddest contraption in all of New England. Gideon had recently built a small vehicle powered off of steam to designers in Washington, D.C. The vehicle looked like a general car, but when started, its wheel rotated down, acting as jets to lift the craft approximatly a foot off the ground. Turning it, he shot down the straw and dust laden path that lead to the cluster of houses in which he resided. Dust and bugs shot at his face, but gideon opened the glove compartment to his right and pulled out a pair of aviation goggles.
The craft looked and essentaily was a car, A round grill on the front to cool the engine, and hood to protect that engine. But past the hood there was no windshield. Being that Gideon had poor eyesight, he found windshields to be a nuisance, so this craft didn't have one. The area that he sta in was square, and contained three seats, lined up left to right. The back area had a hatch that could be used for grocceries or other item storage. In the back was a water reserve tank from a one man dirigible. The wheel hubs were rounded, but by stepping out of the craft and pulling on a little latch, a slab of metal would drop to protect the 'wheels' at night. The four 'wheels' that proppeled it were actually four smaller dirigible propellers that he had found one day laying in the local scrap facility. Two pipes that were connected by a metal rod sat on the back of the craft, to steer it. These pipes wer linked to the steering wheel by a systen of pullies that ran through out the crafts frame. The pipes exhaled all of the excess steam from the engine and forced it out throught a system of pipes that got smaller and smalle and smaller, pressurizing it and propelling the craft forward, or left/right.
As Gideon neared the area where he had seen the blip, he looked up once more. He could now see debris and chunks od shratnel flying down from the clouds above. Seconds later, a hulking fire ball began to emerge form within the cloud cover. Stopping about two-hundred yards shot of a mass of fire engines and fire fighters, Gideon rushed towards the area that the now smoldering dirigible was only moments away from crashing upon. The fire ball could now be identified as the Vulture, as its golden letter was ever present amoung the flames. The fire ball smashed into the ground, sending a enormous and radiating heat wave flying out for a mile. Rushing to the wreckage, Gideon watched as the once magnificent airship turned to ash. Staggering out from the smoke and flames was Johane, who had a lump of black over his shoulder. Thundering over to him, Gideon cringed as the heat stung and evaporated the tears on his face. Leaning over the lump, which could be identified as George Horrigan, Gideon's father, Gideon sobbed, for there was no pulse.
"I'm sorry Gideon," said Johane, "but I wasn't quick enough."
Behind the sad a devestated and mourning son, fire fighters tried to contain the flames, but it was useless, the airship was gone. Amoung this, the Golden letters of the VULTURE, burned and fell to ash, only to be swept with George's soul upon the wind.
Gideon awoke to the sun of the Maine sky bursting with raidence, streaming into his bedroom window; if you could call it a bedroom. He sat up, threw off the cover and brushed the dust and little flakes of dirt of his legs and face. Putting his legs over the side, he stood up, nearly cracking his skull on the ceiling.
Gideon lived in the attic of his parents home in Limerick, Maine. He was seventeen, but even at that age, he was quite tall.
He stalked over to his dresser and opened the only drawer with clothes in it. He pulled out a pair of jeans, an old t-shirt and socks. Getting dressed, managing to get himself another spider bite, making three in two days.
His parents had never had much money, and his mom working as a store clerk, it made sense. But now Gideon was a clerk as well, it order to support himself and his parnets. There was no minimum wage law in 1917, at least not in Limerick, so he and his mom got paid when their employer felt, 'in the mood'. Now that meant a penny one a month, and the next months salary was what was left from the month prior. It was technically aganist the law, but their employer had the law on his side, so nobody rasied hell, and Gideon's family lived in the pits. As Gideon trudged down the fold up attic stairs, his father shot past him into the kitchen and out the door.
"Bye dad!," Gideon tried to hollar after him, but to no avail.
His father was a scienctist and was working on a weapon to finally end the war, but he was not employed. He managed to get a single grant fromt the government to start reasearch, but since, he had been scavaging scrapyards and steel mills for two years. Stepping out onto the porch, Gideon looked up and watched as, just as yesterday, his fathers science partner and closest friend, Johane, shook his fathers hand and they retreated in the magnifcent looming mass on cloth and explosives behind them.
The Vulture was dark blue dirigible approximatly 175ft in length and stood 55ft high. A sight to behold, she ran on hyrogen and a steam engine located below the bridge.
As the massive airship took off, it nearly snagged the weather vain Gideon had built as child, so as to help Johane when he took off. As the dirigible loomed out of sight, Gideon sighed reluctantly. Apparently, his father had finally finished the weapon he had dreamed of. It supposedly shared the same characteristics as the mordern dirigible and streamlined steam engine, but was the opposite. Gideon was an intelligent young man, and his father said someday he ought to become a scienctist, but Gideon couldn't imagine what his father meant. It wasn't a boat, nor a U-boat. After the sinking of the Lusitania by a German U-boat, the government had been franatic over submariens and submarine attack protection. Hut his fathers idea was different, something that he said would shock the world.
Heading out back to tand to the animals that supplied their food, he watched the dot that was the Vulturegrow smaller and smaller and smaller. Bending down to pet their small beagle, Sam, a loud pop echoed from a southernly direction. Jerking upright, Gideon scanned his property. Nothing. Looking to the sky, a orange blip had appeared near the Vultures flight path. Bolting back into and out of the house, he jumped into the oldest and oddest contraption in all of New England. Gideon had recently built a small vehicle powered off of steam to designers in Washington, D.C. The vehicle looked like a general car, but when started, its wheel rotated down, acting as jets to lift the craft approximatly a foot off the ground. Turning it, he shot down the straw and dust laden path that lead to the cluster of houses in which he resided. Dust and bugs shot at his face, but gideon opened the glove compartment to his right and pulled out a pair of aviation goggles.
The craft looked and essentaily was a car, A round grill on the front to cool the engine, and hood to protect that engine. But past the hood there was no windshield. Being that Gideon had poor eyesight, he found windshields to be a nuisance, so this craft didn't have one. The area that he sta in was square, and contained three seats, lined up left to right. The back area had a hatch that could be used for grocceries or other item storage. In the back was a water reserve tank from a one man dirigible. The wheel hubs were rounded, but by stepping out of the craft and pulling on a little latch, a slab of metal would drop to protect the 'wheels' at night. The four 'wheels' that proppeled it were actually four smaller dirigible propellers that he had found one day laying in the local scrap facility. Two pipes that were connected by a metal rod sat on the back of the craft, to steer it. These pipes wer linked to the steering wheel by a systen of pullies that ran through out the crafts frame. The pipes exhaled all of the excess steam from the engine and forced it out throught a system of pipes that got smaller and smalle and smaller, pressurizing it and propelling the craft forward, or left/right.
As Gideon neared the area where he had seen the blip, he looked up once more. He could now see debris and chunks od shratnel flying down from the clouds above. Seconds later, a hulking fire ball began to emerge form within the cloud cover. Stopping about two-hundred yards shot of a mass of fire engines and fire fighters, Gideon rushed towards the area that the now smoldering dirigible was only moments away from crashing upon. The fire ball could now be identified as the Vulture, as its golden letter was ever present amoung the flames. The fire ball smashed into the ground, sending a enormous and radiating heat wave flying out for a mile. Rushing to the wreckage, Gideon watched as the once magnificent airship turned to ash. Staggering out from the smoke and flames was Johane, who had a lump of black over his shoulder. Thundering over to him, Gideon cringed as the heat stung and evaporated the tears on his face. Leaning over the lump, which could be identified as George Horrigan, Gideon's father, Gideon sobbed, for there was no pulse.
"I'm sorry Gideon," said Johane, "but I wasn't quick enough."
Behind the sad a devestated and mourning son, fire fighters tried to contain the flames, but it was useless, the airship was gone. Amoung this, the Golden letters of the VULTURE, burned and fell to ash, only to be swept with George's soul upon the wind.
![[Image: 1zp3yoi.png]](https://i43.tinypic.com/1zp3yoi.png)