BlameThePixel!

Heh, k.

Next piece. Im gonna keep going as long as someone likes it.

Im now running into pieces i havnt rewritten. So they may sound a bit odd since its only a first or second draft.
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In the dim of the evening a small cottage stood out on the horizon, surrounded by many other small buildings that were collectively known as a village. But the house was lighter than usual, lit by countless energy saving light bulbs used by many people who were faintly aware of the dangers they didn’t have. Shouts could be heard from the kitchen, angry voices with a disgusted tone. But next to the bottom of the stairs a grandfather clock ticked with a low, satisfying sound, and repeated it, keeping time flowing throughout the house.
A pan was flung the length of the bright kitchen, rebounded of a double glazed window and danced across the ground with a flinchingly loud sound. This gave Sherry the chance she had been quietly waiting for. Her feet made a low thumping noise as she hurried down the stairs, trying to finish before the noisy ballet did. Once her parents noticed her she would be the topic of an apocalyptic argument. Two droplets ran down her cheek following the damp lines that their predecessors had made. Thinking about what she was going to do would just make it harder. Wiping away the tears she tightened her sweaty grip on the leather box and quietly strode across the soft, insulating carpet, the clock ticking away the last seconds of her life.
At the end of the hallway she found the stiff lavatory door. The result of opening this would be a loud screech of metal that would echo through the house. Her chance came with the arrival of a vase hitting the window. Yanking the door open she hurried into the small lavatory and closed the door behind her. The screams were getting worse, but this was normal for the household. Carefully, she placed the box on the lid of the toilet. She could tell her father had used the lavatory last; the seat was up. But she didn’t bother closing it; there was a more important matter to attend. Her body was shaking all over now, as she undid the leather latch that held the tatty box closed. It had been a real struggle to get the box out of her father’s room and she had broken most of her hairpins trying to pick the lock of the bottom draw, but she didn’t need them where she was going. She lifted the lid of the box with shaking hands. A frightened hiccup escaped her and the vivid memory of last night flashed into her mind. Gasping she withdrew her hands, letting the box fly to the floor. The thud was dull and softened by the leather. The lid of the box tipped open and a black revolver slid to the floor making a slight scraping noise against the ceramic floor. Leaning on the door, she listened to the household. Her father was shouting out something about the pub. Sighing with reluctant relief, she let her arms relax. Bending down, she picked up the weapon. Her hands shook violently as she forced it towards her head, knowing the bullet her father had loaded in case of an intrusion was inside the gun, waiting to penetrate her skull. She began to sweat all over and had to grip the handle firmly to stop the gun from slipping from her grasp. Her eyes began to see a bright white light.
Sherry frowned, she didn’t remember pulling the trigger. Looking down she saw she was still in the lavatory. The light was coming from the toilet. A yellow aura flashed over her suddenly and her whole body was sucked into the toilet. The yellow brilliance poured out of the door and down the hall followed by a loud, windy “WUMFF�.
Sherry’s parents stopped fighting abruptly, her mother still brandishing a candlestick that was amazingly still alight. Both heads turned towards the hallway. The light was almost the colour of undiluted urine and looked as if it had gained the property to condense into a mist. As abruptly as it appeared it went, leaving a negative image on the back of their eyes.
The grandfather clock was still ticking, ticking away on borrowed time.
“Sherry?� came her dads shaky call. The clock answered, somehow louder than before. The parents exchanged glances, and then rushed down the corridor. Father opened the door. The screech fed the tension in the house. Inside was a revolver and leather box lying on the floor. And on the toilet lid, there was a note.

Well, that was certainly interesting...
And there's some spelling errors, a few missing apostrephes, the usual.

Hmmm, it started off well, but disappearing down a toilet in a "urine coloured" flash ruined it

Have you in fact bothered to read the rest of the story?

Its nice to see someone elses is paying attention anyway and who knows, I may just get rid of the word "urine"

If I had a nickel for every time THAT's happened to me...

Anyway, nice story kik Very interesting... (I meant that in the nicest possible sense)

lol dont worry. As long as people are reading and critising and maybe enjoying a tinsy bit im fine.

The next bits a juicy one methinks, so ive gotta get it exactly right...

...except for grammer, glenn can correct me on that.

Oh, what would you do without Glenn.

Have a flame-free life.

No, without me he'd never get his grammar mistakes fixed XD.
Even though the meat of the story is important, if you can't understand the story because of poor writing style, it's not worth reading the story.

I dont make THAT many grammar mistakes. Just one too many.

Now be patient, it's almost finished.

I was commenting on his story in the thread he just made in this forum.

With you the two things are pretty much the same thing

You what?

He was referring to http://www.blamethepixel.co m/forum/forumthread.php?id=5833&catid=18.

Which is now nonexistant.