Post by Mr. Dangerous on Nov 12, 2010 9:31:56 GMT -6
It was a rough way to go. Thorns surrounded the blackberry bushes all around. "Supersonic" Branden Harvey hesitated for a minute before he went through. It seemed to look warily about for people to destroy.
Then, he noticed the decomposing body in the bushes. Branden brushed his hand through his hair, as he stopped thinking about Got Milk? for a moment and tried to figure a way through. He looked for a trail, but saw none. He was going to have to go straight through the bushes. Winter was coming on and, while everywhere ese in the world it was pretty cold, here in Happy Valley, CA, his new training spot, it was still pretty warm. But the night was getting colder here and the day was sure to follow. These bushes, though, were in the way of his training.
Branden had been sprinting along the path before he ran into these blackberry bushes.
These buhes bothered Branden. They were in his way. His father let him use the Harvey property in Happy Valley to train, but he didn't tell him about these bushes. His father was a good man. He had taught Branden how to hike when he was a child.
Branden's cousin, Michael, used to hike with him when they were kids, but he now had no interest in it. Branden's parents had adopted Micheal when he was ten, but he didn't usually visit anymore. His father had taught him how to get through blackberry bushes, but he couldn't remember anymore.
When he asked his father if he could train here, hs father was overjoyed to spend more time with his now famous son. His father wanted to come but was too old to hike these days. He looked again at the decomposed body and wondered if itwas a bad idea to try and get through. He could still see the dryed blood, which told him this body was fresh. He had tried to visit his old friends when he showed up here, but they didn't want to talk to him. They didn't want to really be his friends anymore.
They just wanted his money.
Branden was shocked at how much thi little town had changed since he moved to Sacramento. Everybody used to know each other. Now there were too many people for that. That saddened Branden. It saddened his father as well.
Grief and depression overwhelmed him. He had wanted to retire here. But it wasn't how he remembered. It would make him too sad to retire here.
Michael didn't care about the town growth. He said it was good for the town to grow. Branden understood that it was good for the town economy. But it still made him sad.
Now, here he was sprinting through the woods and some blackberry bushes had leaped in the way. It haunted him that he couldn't finish his training. Whispers in his head teased him, tantalized him, for not knowing how to get through. Branden lectured himself that it was his mind playing tricks on him and he needed to bypass it to remember how to get through.
He had thought that he would be past it by now. But he was still here, staring at the bushes. The whispers in hid head told him he was simply in ecstacy over winning an Extreme Combat Championship Match. But he knew he shouldn't be ecstatic over a past win and, instead, look to the future.
Branden looked again at the decomposing body. He thought again of hiking with his father as a child. It was starting to come back. His memory was coming back to him. He now knew what he had to do. He grabbed his knife and started hacking the bushes out of the way.
About halfway through, he was cut by a thorn. It had seemingly jumped out and cut his left hand, causing him to jump back in pain and surprise. Inspecting the small wound, he found the thorn embedded in the meat of the gash. It hurt pretty bad. He had to get it out. He knew just how to do that. He grabbed his knife again. He started to dig the thorn out with his knife. But the more he dug, the deeper it went. He tore at the wound, making it bigger. Finally, he got the thorn out, his hand now oozing with blood.
Looking around, Branden saw some good looking, large leaves. He went and got some. He used he leaves to dress the wound. Man, his hand hurt. It was now bleeding through the leaves.
He took his knife again and hacked himself the rest of the way through the thorn bushes.
He started sprinting again. The wind rushed past his head. He began to think of Got Milk? again. Milk lost to him in their last encounter. He wasn't going to let them beat him. He was so afraid of losing that he went cold to the bone.
The bushes were trouble, he thought. The thorn was trouble, as well. His mother always told him that "Trouble follows you once it has you." And he knew that he didn't want that to happen with his matches.
Trying to ignore his fears, he kept sprinting. My mom was always superstitous, he told himself. He tried to think of ways to counter Milk's moves. He tried to occupy his mind with that. He needed to redirect his thoughts. But he couldn't.
Still sprinting, he headed for a path that skirted the hillside. There was more room there to run. He ran through the woods, jumping fallen trees and rocky streams. Brush snatched at his pant legs. He couldn't believe he had injured himself just before his match. His breath was fast, ragged, sweat ran cold down his face, and he could feel his heart pounding as he ran carelessly down the hillside. He tripped over a rock, almost falling.
He stopped. That was enough for today. He didn't want to push himself too hard. He had to save some energy for the match itself.
Winded, Branden slumped down on the ground, leaned against a tree, and began to think about his match. Maybe he would lose. Maybe people would laugh at him. All he knew was that he wouldn't make the mistake of being overconfident again.
No, he couldn't think he was going to lose. He needed to think positively. He needed to know that he could beat Got Milk?.
Branden snapped off a twig in frusteration and threw it at a flat rock. He knew he sholdn't be so depressed over one loss. But he couldn't help it.
He got up and began walking towards his father's house. He had beaten Milk before. He knew he could beat them again. He had to. He needed this win.
He didn't just need it. He wanted it. He was better than Got Milk?. He knew that. Why was he so afraid?
As he thought, he began to get close enough to his father's house that he could see it. He could see the yellow house, as it gleamed in the sun. He kept walking. The trail started to get less rough. Branden had made this walk many times throughout his life. It was wet and soggy beneath his feet. He was getting closer to his father's house. Most people avoided this area because it was so out of the way. His father lived there. He liked the quiet.
His eyes locked on something. There she was. Lisa was waiting for him outside. What was she doing? He looked at his watch. Crap, it's almost time to leave so he can catch his plane.
He took a few steps forward. He continued to think about his match with Got Milk? on Fever. Despite their intelligence, Milk were capable competitors. Branden knew that. But Banden also knew that he could beat them. He had no reason to be afraid.
He was almost to his father's house. He kept his eyes on his wife. His parents were behind her. They were obviously there to see him off. They chatted while they were waiting. They looked. They waited. He kept moving. Finally, he arrived.
He said his goodbyes.
He had a plane to catch and a match to win.
Then, he noticed the decomposing body in the bushes. Branden brushed his hand through his hair, as he stopped thinking about Got Milk? for a moment and tried to figure a way through. He looked for a trail, but saw none. He was going to have to go straight through the bushes. Winter was coming on and, while everywhere ese in the world it was pretty cold, here in Happy Valley, CA, his new training spot, it was still pretty warm. But the night was getting colder here and the day was sure to follow. These bushes, though, were in the way of his training.
Branden had been sprinting along the path before he ran into these blackberry bushes.
These buhes bothered Branden. They were in his way. His father let him use the Harvey property in Happy Valley to train, but he didn't tell him about these bushes. His father was a good man. He had taught Branden how to hike when he was a child.
Branden's cousin, Michael, used to hike with him when they were kids, but he now had no interest in it. Branden's parents had adopted Micheal when he was ten, but he didn't usually visit anymore. His father had taught him how to get through blackberry bushes, but he couldn't remember anymore.
When he asked his father if he could train here, hs father was overjoyed to spend more time with his now famous son. His father wanted to come but was too old to hike these days. He looked again at the decomposed body and wondered if itwas a bad idea to try and get through. He could still see the dryed blood, which told him this body was fresh. He had tried to visit his old friends when he showed up here, but they didn't want to talk to him. They didn't want to really be his friends anymore.
They just wanted his money.
Branden was shocked at how much thi little town had changed since he moved to Sacramento. Everybody used to know each other. Now there were too many people for that. That saddened Branden. It saddened his father as well.
Grief and depression overwhelmed him. He had wanted to retire here. But it wasn't how he remembered. It would make him too sad to retire here.
Michael didn't care about the town growth. He said it was good for the town to grow. Branden understood that it was good for the town economy. But it still made him sad.
Now, here he was sprinting through the woods and some blackberry bushes had leaped in the way. It haunted him that he couldn't finish his training. Whispers in his head teased him, tantalized him, for not knowing how to get through. Branden lectured himself that it was his mind playing tricks on him and he needed to bypass it to remember how to get through.
He had thought that he would be past it by now. But he was still here, staring at the bushes. The whispers in hid head told him he was simply in ecstacy over winning an Extreme Combat Championship Match. But he knew he shouldn't be ecstatic over a past win and, instead, look to the future.
Branden looked again at the decomposing body. He thought again of hiking with his father as a child. It was starting to come back. His memory was coming back to him. He now knew what he had to do. He grabbed his knife and started hacking the bushes out of the way.
About halfway through, he was cut by a thorn. It had seemingly jumped out and cut his left hand, causing him to jump back in pain and surprise. Inspecting the small wound, he found the thorn embedded in the meat of the gash. It hurt pretty bad. He had to get it out. He knew just how to do that. He grabbed his knife again. He started to dig the thorn out with his knife. But the more he dug, the deeper it went. He tore at the wound, making it bigger. Finally, he got the thorn out, his hand now oozing with blood.
Looking around, Branden saw some good looking, large leaves. He went and got some. He used he leaves to dress the wound. Man, his hand hurt. It was now bleeding through the leaves.
He took his knife again and hacked himself the rest of the way through the thorn bushes.
He started sprinting again. The wind rushed past his head. He began to think of Got Milk? again. Milk lost to him in their last encounter. He wasn't going to let them beat him. He was so afraid of losing that he went cold to the bone.
The bushes were trouble, he thought. The thorn was trouble, as well. His mother always told him that "Trouble follows you once it has you." And he knew that he didn't want that to happen with his matches.
Trying to ignore his fears, he kept sprinting. My mom was always superstitous, he told himself. He tried to think of ways to counter Milk's moves. He tried to occupy his mind with that. He needed to redirect his thoughts. But he couldn't.
Still sprinting, he headed for a path that skirted the hillside. There was more room there to run. He ran through the woods, jumping fallen trees and rocky streams. Brush snatched at his pant legs. He couldn't believe he had injured himself just before his match. His breath was fast, ragged, sweat ran cold down his face, and he could feel his heart pounding as he ran carelessly down the hillside. He tripped over a rock, almost falling.
He stopped. That was enough for today. He didn't want to push himself too hard. He had to save some energy for the match itself.
Winded, Branden slumped down on the ground, leaned against a tree, and began to think about his match. Maybe he would lose. Maybe people would laugh at him. All he knew was that he wouldn't make the mistake of being overconfident again.
No, he couldn't think he was going to lose. He needed to think positively. He needed to know that he could beat Got Milk?.
Branden snapped off a twig in frusteration and threw it at a flat rock. He knew he sholdn't be so depressed over one loss. But he couldn't help it.
He got up and began walking towards his father's house. He had beaten Milk before. He knew he could beat them again. He had to. He needed this win.
He didn't just need it. He wanted it. He was better than Got Milk?. He knew that. Why was he so afraid?
As he thought, he began to get close enough to his father's house that he could see it. He could see the yellow house, as it gleamed in the sun. He kept walking. The trail started to get less rough. Branden had made this walk many times throughout his life. It was wet and soggy beneath his feet. He was getting closer to his father's house. Most people avoided this area because it was so out of the way. His father lived there. He liked the quiet.
His eyes locked on something. There she was. Lisa was waiting for him outside. What was she doing? He looked at his watch. Crap, it's almost time to leave so he can catch his plane.
He took a few steps forward. He continued to think about his match with Got Milk? on Fever. Despite their intelligence, Milk were capable competitors. Branden knew that. But Banden also knew that he could beat them. He had no reason to be afraid.
He was almost to his father's house. He kept his eyes on his wife. His parents were behind her. They were obviously there to see him off. They chatted while they were waiting. They looked. They waited. He kept moving. Finally, he arrived.
He said his goodbyes.
He had a plane to catch and a match to win.