PRojekT

'This is an Experimental page where I try to experiment with writing. I'll be trying to improve by writing what I call "PRojekTs" (yes, I took a little from King Crimson, but it's not gonna publish for money). I will be making unfinished stories so that I may somehow learn from what I had and improve on it. I hope this will satisfy you to some extent as I experiment with both good and bad writing. I will be doing a bunch of things in many different Genres, many different influences, many different Ideas. Hopefully this works out and I thank you very much for taking the time to read this Introduction. Please enjoy this and have a wonderful time reading. Thank You, Yugon.'

PRojekT Story I: Fire From Heaven
Je'Tieynal Mehdier was a tormented man and an excellent rider who rode as he made is way across the Deadlands. Not very many things were seen without him, but moreso that he was the one who had seen too much. Always keeping himself to his White horse Zajir as he galloped with the breathings of the ancient wind behind.

The Eisker Deadlands was no farther away from the Jiqara Sand Junction off the side and no closer to Tyr Najun. The trees were all extinct and rotting away on the dead surface without any water. The shrub remained the same in the desolate place as you couldn't even tell the night sky from the Land!

''Curses! I'm a Fortnight late!'' Je'Tieynal thought to himself. Carefully thought, he knew he'd be hunted if he picked up pace as he was watched, so he kept his regular pace as he made his way to Tyr Najun. ''All That's left for me there is a broken welcome and a Dead man's home! And on top of that, I have Fifteen strong against me tonight! Gods, why do you curse me!?''

He continued on in the silence of the night with the fear of his life at hand. His horse couldn't move its eyes off its goal, a small lit city in the distance as they make their way through. Even bleaker became the night as the mist set down. Je'Tienynal couldn't see what was exactly in front of him as he knew he was a goner. He stopped the horse dead in his track and immediately reached for his pen and parchment from the bag to the side of the horse. He scribbled in a flurry with the assassins breathing down his neck.

He finally finished and gave the note to the horse round his neck as he took from him a tie and tied the parchment round its neck. He then cracked a whip and the horse took a dash across the bleak deadlands.