Deborah Boydston Deborah Boydston
Recommendations: 45

In the sentence, "Vincent lets go of it as she takes it a hold of it." you could do away with two of the words "it". The sentence was somewhat confusing to read. Maybe you could change it to " vincent lets go of the machete as She takes hold of it."

Paul Day Paul Day
Recommendations: 14

Maybe change that last line for greater impact to something like: "The woman pleads with a contorted look on her face. Her eyes are filled with tears, though Vincent suspects they are not tears of fear, or loss, but pure, unadulterated hate." or something like that.

David Anderson David Anderson
Recommendations: 2

Heeeyyyyy... I like that. Nicely done, Good Sir. :) Thank you.

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David Anderson David Anderson
Recommendations: 2

= The War To End All Wars =

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Under the Double Star - Chapter One

The Political Views stated are for story purposes and are not to incite a political rant. Thank you.

=Part One=

Back in 2012, Barrack Obama was reelected for a second term and while living out his legacy of being the first black president of the United States of America, he drove the United States economy further into debt with more “borrowed” money from other governments. His healthcare plan, Obama-care, helped destroy thousands of families across the United States. Those who were so poor that they couldn’t afford Health Insurance in the first place, we fined significantly, thus, putting them further into poverty. After a while, the American Economy became so poor that their wasn’t any economy left. China, as well as several other countries, tried to cash in on the money that the United States owed them but, with America being so poor, America could not pay it’s way out of debt.

China and it’s allies invaded America. There for a while, America put up the good fight. But with America’s industry outsourced to places like China, India and other Asiatic countries, it had no manufacturing capabilities and eventually, America’s supplies dried up. Afraid to get involved due to the decay of the American economy and most American’s hostile view of America, America’s allies did not come to her aide. Once the world realized that it’s last Superpower was on it’s knees, all hell broke loose.

The whole of Africa broke into a cluster fuck of civil wars. The Middle East tripled it’s efforts in terrorist attacks across the globe and tripled that number with it’s terrorist attacks on Jerusalem. After a couple of months, Jerusalem fell into Islamic hands. Western Europe rekindled it’s territory disputes from the days of old. England, France, Germany and Spain bashed each other with bombs, bullets and blood. Finally, to end all the horrors, North Korea decided that it wanted recognition and launched a Weapon Of Mass Destruction against India. India returned the favor and before any one could stop it, the world, as a whole, was hit by thirteen Weapons of Mass destruction.

The Global Economy no longer exists. Currencies around the world no longer hold any kind of value. Gold is still precious but the majority of Survivors from what has been dubbed “The War That Ended The World” doesn’t have any and if they happened to have some gold, what they have isn’t much. The wars and the weapons of mass destruction killed off a third of the world’s population. Famine and disease killed off another third. Now, no countries exist. No nations exist. No constant supply of food exist. It is a day to day struggle. Small bands of men, women and children roam the mountains, the plains, the coasts, the roads and highways like ancient nomads, looking to carve out a pitiful excuse of living. All have one goal in mind… To survive.


“Stop! Please! Stop!” A woman’s scream is heard, causing Vincent Balco to drop to his butt, trying to get out of view until he finds out exactly where the scream is coming from and exactly what is going on. Vincent Balco presses his back against the burnt cars remains.

Two gun shots ring out, causing Vincent Balco to jump as he reaches for one of his pistols, pulling it from it’s holster. Sliding his back up the car, keeping the pistol pointed upwards next to his head, Vincent looks through the windows of the car. A hundred or so yards up the road, a group of seven men stand, huddled around a woman, clinging onto a child, tears rolling from her eyes. Next to the woman and the child is a dead man, probably the woman’s husband and the child’s father. The group of men begin to rip the woman from the child as the two try to stay latched onto one another.

Vincent Balco slides back down towards the ground, taking his sights from off of what is happening down the rode. Closing his eyes, he says a silent prayer before opening his eyes and holding the pistol that is already in his hand, out in front of him, checking that it is fully loaded. Vincent Balco slides back up on the car, peering through the windows once more. The group of men, the woman and the child are gone, nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, god, no! Please! Don’t!” The woman cries out inside of a somewhat dark room as two men proceed to tare her shirt, exposing her breasts. Three men stand guard, with their back to an open door frame that has no door, watching another two men begin to rape the woman, despite her cries and pleas. Tears roll down the woman’s face, smudging the packed dirt on her cheeks as one man holds her arms down just as the other man, time and time again, thrusts into her.

Vincent Balco follows the screams, edging his way on the exterior of a tall building, pistol in his right hand, next to his head. As the screams grow louder, Vincent Balco makes it a few feet from the open door from where the screams are coming from. Being careful, Vincent peeks into the doorway, seeing the woman being raped by two men with three men standing guard. Taking his head from out of the doorway, Vincent Balco places his pistol back into it’s holster before pulling out his machete. Holding the machete in front of his face, Vincent kisses the blade.

Charging in through the open doorway, Vincent swings the machete downward, splitting one of the three guard’s skull open from behind before, in one clean motion, pulling the machete from out of the man’s skull and doing a hundred and eighty degree spin, slashing with the blade which connects with one of the other guard’s throats as the guard spins around, causing blood to spray onto the dirty brickwork exterior wall. The third man standing guard, startled and panicked, goes to raise his AK-47 but Vincent is able to get to him before he is able to pull down on the trigger, planting the machete between the man’s neck and collarbone. The two men raping the woman jump to their feet, reaching for their fire arms, which are a couple of feet away from where they are at as Vincent swings the machete at the man closes to him, cutting the man’s hand off, sending the man plopping backwards, holding the bloody stump at the end of his arm.

The other man that was raping the woman makes it to his fire arm and begins to lift the AK-47’s muzzle. In an instant, Vincent knows that the man is just a little too far out of his reach if Vincent wants to use his machete before the man fires away. Thinking fast, Vincent swings his arm behind his head before thrusting it forward, releasing the machete as his arm becomes fully extended, causing the machete to topple end over end through the air. The man holding the AK-47 eyes widen as he realizes that the machete is headed his way. Before the man can react any further, the machete plants itself in his forehead, causing the man to stagger backwards before falling to the ground like bird shit.

Vincent walks over to the man with the machete in his forehead and steps on the man’s neck as he reaches down, grabbing the machete by the handle and pulling it from the man’s skull. Hearing the grunts and groans of pain from the man who only has one hand, Vincent turns around and looks at him before shifting his eyes to the woman that was being raped.

She’s curled up in a ball in the corner of the room, torn shirt in her hands, covering up her breasts, watching Vincent Balco clean house. Tears still roll down her face but her screams have grown silent. Vincent shifts his eyes back to the man with one hand and begins to walk towards him.

“I-I’m sorry,” the man says through the unbearable pain that he is experiencing as he looks up to Vincent who is holding the bloody machete at waist side. Vincent doesn’t say or move a muscle, just stares down at the man.

“Let me…” The woman steps next to Vincent, catching Vincent by surprise. She reaches, placing her palm on Vincent’s forearm, sliding her hand down to his hand and then over the handle of the machete. Vincent lets go of it as she takes it a hold of it. She steps closer to the man and through tear filled eyes, looks down at him. 1 comment

“Please,” begs the man. “Please. Don’t.”

The woman quickly shakes her head with disgust as she begins to swing and hack at the man, repeatedly. With each repeated swing of the machete, streaks of blood fly through the air, splattering walls and floor alike. The woman does not stop swinging, even though after several swings, she begins to tire. Realizing that the woman is in a frantic, murderous rage, Vincent tosses his arms around her, grabbing her in a sort of a bear hug, stopping her from swinging the machete.

“Stop. Stop! He’s dead. I promise you. He’s dead.” Vincent says as he continues to hold onto her. Huffing, puffing and panting, the woman looks at what she has done and collapses into Vincent’s arms, crying hysterically. Vincent lowers her to the ground, rocking her back and forth in his arms, trying to comfort her. After several long minutes, she looks up at Vincent.

“My daughter.. We have to save my daughter.” The woman states through tear shedding eyes. 2 comments

[To Be Continued]

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