I spend far too much time on the internet. But that's alright, as it means I stumble across some rather odd things which I later discuss with whoever happens to be on facebook at whatever bonkers hour of the morning I'm up, such as the rumour that there was going to be a character called "Icicle" in the Harry Potter books. Jack and I had a laugh, and he pointed out that Icicle sounded a like something you'd name a mercenary. So I managed to get a (very) short (and very rare) bit of writing out of him. Enjoy :)
"James Anderson and Icicle rocketed across the desert in their SUV, rifles in hand, awaiting the distant yet inevitable bullet storm. It had been three long, hard days of travel across the barren dry wastes. The sand, unrelenting, had carved Anderson's facial expression into a frizzled frown. However the three long days of torment seemed to have had little effect on the frozen composure of Icicle. As the gravel rasped under the pressure of the worn dusty tires and the suspension groaned in complaint at the terrain they were traversing, an eerie series of cracks shook through the air. Milliseconds after, the front windshield in facing the two men exploded into thousands of tiny razor shards, howling through the air and straight into the faces of both men. As the faint sting registered in the mind of Icicle, a sickening thud occurred next to him. Instantly, he knew what this meant as the vehicle veered violently to the right. A large weathered boulder seemed to magic right in front of them, and with the grace of a punch to the face, collided heavily with the rock. Instantly Icicle was catapulted out of the now non existent window as the Jeep came to an abrupt stop.
A million thoughts went though Icicle's head as he arced through the air. For some strange reason, his first thought was if he had paid too much for the last pair of trousers he had bought, which were inevitably going to get ripped as he landed with devastating force on the hot hard ground, sliding several meters before coming to a halt. Despite the searing pain shooting through his body, he instantly scrambled onto his now tattered boots, simultaneously raising his heavy M16 as he stood up straight. Looking through the sights, he instantly spotted the hidden shooter, opening fire before the assailant could even comprehend what had just happened. The first shot plunged deep into the terrorists chest, leaving a crimson blot as it entered. The second, more precise shot tore straight though his neck, causing the man to fall back into a crumpled heap, dead."
Jack says I might be able to get some more out of him tomorrow. I for one, am definitely looking forward to this.
See you next time,
Zahra (and Jack!)