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David Teasdale


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  • Sapphire

I don't know where I'm going with this, but I'm at work with a lot of spare time so here goes.

David Teasdale was born in Berezino Hospital, Chernarus in 1992 to working class parents, his father Arthur a British born farming machine parts salesman and mother Tatiana a painter and Chernarussian national.

At the age of 2 the family moved to the UK, due to his fathers work commitments, where David was raised. He was an average student and went on to study art at college and had a part time job at a electrical goods store working the warehouse in the evenings and on weekends. His parents split in 2010 and he chose to stay with his mother in the family home in Middlesbrough while his father moved to London.

In 2013 his Grandfather in Chernarus took ill quite seriously and over the cousrse of 5-6 months it became apparent he did not have long to live.

Accompanying his mother back to the country of his birth they moved into a small homestead in western Krasnostav. Three weeks later his Grandfather passed away of a stroke brought about by old age and his prolonged illness, his mother distraught they decide to stay in Chernarus while they sort out his estate and affairs. David, having had several short stays in Chernarus in his lifetime, falls in love with the open countryside and tempo of Chernarussian life, a major contrast to the industrial environment in which he grew up.

He and his mother decide to stay, Tatiana settling her fathers affairs and retiring to dedicate her time painting the dramatic coastline. Whilst David finds a job as a supermarket delivery driver for the northern region of stores.

A year passes, and in January 2014 Davids mother passes away after a short battle with cancer detected too late to respond to with treatment. David quits his job and becomes a recluse, struggling with depression and preferring the company of the trees and hills to people which has a calming effect. He becomes a survivalist of sorts, although not trained to live from the land he his quietly capable.

The days turn into weeks, the weeks disolve into nameless months and David becomes a shade of himself.

October 20th 2014

Proudly rearing it's head and sniffing the air, the deer catches the sweet scent of a free meal unaware it had only moments left alive. Its huge bright eyes and red/brown coat shimmering in the mid-afternoon sun. A majestic sight even through the confined view of binoculars. The deer continues its path through the clearing towards the bait bag at the base of a tree, sparing no thought as to who put it there or why.

Birds scatter into the cloudless sky as a shot rings out, the red/brown coat of the deer ripples as its muscles tense to flee but it goes no further than a few feet. David sees the deer fall out of sight into the brush at the edge of clearing. Approaching at a jog he sees the slow rise and fall of the deers last few breaths. The animal eventually stills and David sees its eyes, huge and bright, becoming dim, vacant black orbs void of consciousness. They seem to stare beyond him, into him, examining his soul with With a terrible coldness.

David takes a drink from his canteen and steels himself. Removing the pelt and quartering the creature in his haphazard fashion is always a messy business. Half an hour later, the meat wrapped in paper and placed away in his rucksack David sets out for home, an hours walk at the most and with plenty of daylight left. He passes through the familiar woods for half an hour, stopping to roll a cigarette with blood stained hands from his afternoons work. He climbs the hill as he smokes, as he reaches the crest he hears a low growl and stops. He looks down and flicks the cigarette at the dirt, as he does a brief glimpse of something in his peripheral vision and he's taken off his feet.

His nose is filled with all encompassing stench as he rolls down the hill, the air rushing out of his lungs as he hits the bottom and then its on him. The stinking heavy set man clawing and grabbing in a frenzy, still reeling from the impact David manages to scramble away and get to his feet, seeing his attacker clearly for the first time his immediate thought is of a feral animal, cornered and forced to fight savagely for its life.

But then he sees them. Staring beyond him, into him, examining his soul with a terrible coldness. Those vacant black orbs, void of consciousness.

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