Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing… never have, never will…. sigh
Okay. So, it turns out, that in this new thing that has going on, I can't make my paragraphs more than double-spaced. Also, I can't put up the key for the scene changes, POV changes, and flashbacks…. So you'll have to bear with me when I put them in parentheses. (Like this for POV Change, and flashbacks).
I'm really sorry…. If I can figure out how to fix it, I will.
Thanks for the… :counts: two reviews I've gotten.
Lots of love, people!
P.S. I'm going to experiment. Maybe, if I put the things in quotes "POV Change " things like that, it might work. We'll find out…. I'll also try, to put more spaces in between paragraphs, to put a period (.) between paragraphs, and then double space again.
You might have to deal with them. Sorry! Also, the first line indents on it doesn't work….
I just uploaded the document, and the period thing didn't work, and also, the quotation thing didn't work. ARGH! I don't know what to do... Three "x"s seem to work, though. I'll do that, instead.
.xxx.
.xxx.
.xxx.
I woke to the sounds of explosions ringing in my ears. My eyes opened, staring at the sky. The sky! The sky looked strange somehow, blurry. For a moment I couldn't move, and when I did, I gasped. I hurt everywhere. Slowly, I raised a hand to my aching middle, my fingers brushing the arrow lodged there, causing a whole new wave of pain, and coming away red.
Suddenly, tears trembled on the edge of falling, stinging my eyes. I was going to die here, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. With a sob, I rolled over, and then pushed myself to my hands and knees, my head spinning, agony stabbing my side. Vaguely, I recalled that moving with even one broken rib could be dangerous.
More explosions filled my field of sound. /There must be an attack on the base…/ This was the first coherent thought my mind had conjured in the time I'd been in that tortuous place—I was quite proud of myself.
Crawling across the bloody floor, I made my way to the now open door, and I stopped just outside, shocked.
Two of the guards that had beaten here were lying on the floor, dead. One lay on his side beside an overturned stool, a cup on the rough stone floor not far from one outstretched hand. His eyes stared, and a pool of congealed blood spread out from the deep slash across his throat.
The other lay almost next to the first one, staring at the ceiling. Lips drawn back in a rictus bared his teeth, and his eyes seemed full of horror. As well they might have, since a nine-inch blade stood out from between the third and fourth ribs. The soldier's gun lay beside his hand, on the edge of a dark stain that ran back under the stool. The clip was missing.
The whole place fairly reeked of blood, and if there had been any food in my stomach, I'm sure it probably would have ended up on the floor. I swallowed against the urge to sick up. I wanted out. Now.
