Creative Writing: Han's Home

.... Eleven one thousand, twelve one thousand. The train ended. Twelve seconds. Twelve seconds and one hundred-eight box cars. Nine box cars per second. Twelve feet per car.... seventy-three and one forty-fifth miles per hour. Han computed this subconsciously in a matter of seconds. He accomplished such feats of brilliance often, and especially when he felt uneasy. Never before had he felt so uneasy. Nothing was actually wrong, in fact, the day had been almost remarkably commonplace. "then why do I feel as if my innards have been substituted with insects?" He sat on a felled tree behind his house, the place he often went to clear his mind. From where han sat, he could clearly view the eastern portion of the city; Han's house sat on the
except Sangren Chaimberlain. Sangren was the city's Chief Commander. A man shrouded in secrecy. He had been Chief for as long as history was written. Some say he had held the office as long as the city had existed. That would make him older than Han's great great great great grandparents. Far older. Yet he appeared to be only in his mid-thirties, spry, youthful, and full of life. Yet the salt-and-pepper configuration of his hair, and the promminent lines around his eyes and mouth added a timeless prospect to his appearance. He walked with sort of an awkward gait that suggested that through his perhaps centuries of existence, he had not quite mastered the art. This, however, did little to impede his progress as he covered ground rather
Han followed shortly after her, tripping over the slight step at the entrance. across the large room, han spotted his father staring intently at the center of the room. his lengthy legs splayed out before him, as the char in which he sat was far too short for someone of his lanky stature. That was where it became obvious where Han got his features. Han, like his father, was rather tall and thin, with the same wild shock of brown hair that he never seemed able to tame. The bell rang for the fourth time. Han's gut tightened. It was time for the broadcast. It was then that the center of the room lit up with a flash, temporarily blinding him. When his eyes adjusted, he saw the hologram in the center. Something was wrong. These twice monthly broadcasts occured like clockwork, but it was always a broadcast of Chief Chaimberlan. never before had he seen the creature that appeared in his stead. "YOLO!" The creature screeched as it reached for the wall behind it. once it found what it was looking for, it cackled shrilly. "SWAG