Progressive Writing Exercise #6: Building Your Characters

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Bergiere balds his fist and trembles. You feel you should warn your C.O. because without a shadow of doubt, you know that they are the target for Bergiere’s rage. After all, Bergiere had warn the C.O. that he and Mazon uncovered a plot by the Coalition to destroy the station. If that warning had been valued, there could be no victims. There would be no loss of life.

Bergiere says nothing as he slides down the west enbankment toward the gathering military presence. You can see your C.O. giving orders. You hope you were wrong about Bergiere’s mood and resolve. But you of all people know that hope is illogically fruitless.

Bergiere has never looked so stern, focused, or angry. In fact, you have never seen him in any kind of negative state, he has always been tranquil and at peace. He has always been approachable. At this moment though, his frowned brow and hostile disppsition would frighten a wild white rhino into submission.

You watch, stunned, as Bergiere pushes his way through a group of starry-eyed cadets, shoves the C.O. Assistant to the ground, and then land a mighty blow unto the large head of the C.O. The C.O. immediately falls unconscious and Bergiere’s chest rises and falls rapidly. You just know he may not only get brig time but dishonorably discharged. You ask yourself: who will I eat with now?

She only looks up towards the military guys who watch from behind a safety glass that is three inches thick and bulletproof. I notice one of them knodding, and my eyelids get heavy immediately. Dang! Guess I was NOT supposed to wake up yet.

They can experiment all they like. I will not become a mindless and heartless killing drone. To take a life is wrong, and I will not do so easily. Nor will I ever enjoy it. It is not who I am, or who I will ever be.

I feel the medicine flowing through my vains, like ice on hot coals. I am beyond uncomfortable and I refuse to submit to it this time.

I muster all the energy I can and lunge upward, braking my restraints. I know I will feel the consequences later. I reach up to the doctor, gripping hard her wrist. She attempts to pull away but even drugged I am too strong. In fact, maybe too strong. I am unsure if I can even control how strong my grip is.

She lets out a cry of pain and I feel the butt of a rifle slam against the back of my neck. The meds and impact from the guard’s rifle do not knock me unconscious, but rather fuels my aggression and strength.

I release the doctor and grab the guard, flipping them over my shoulder. Raising my fist I was ready to plunge down into the guard’s skull, but stopped myself. Maybe the medicine is working.

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