Tyler Wandschneider

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Tyler Wandschneider

Goodreads Author

in Somewhere in Wisconsin, The United States



Member Since
December 2014


Tyler Wandschneider was born in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin where he spent most of his childhood doing one of two things. He'd either watch movies or get on his bike and ride all over hell and back looking for as many wooded areas to explore as possible. Those were his two main adventures. Getting lost in a story on the screen or getting lost in the woods.

As a young boy, Tyler wasn’t too fond of reading and writing. He found his joy in stories by watching them. One summer, he watched Tango and Cash every single morning before getting on his bike. By the end of the summer he could recite the entire movie as it played. In case you didn’t know, this is very, very impressive.

Though he found it hard to enjoy reading, there were a few books that left u

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Tyler Wandschneider Honestly, I think writer's block is a myth. Sure you can stare at the page and wonder what to write but I don't think it's writer's block.

Consider it …more
Honestly, I think writer's block is a myth. Sure you can stare at the page and wonder what to write but I don't think it's writer's block.

Consider it as I do - a moment of preparation. A calm before the storm of sorts where you gather the known elements of the scene and then let your fingers start going. I do A LOT of revising in my writing so when that moment happens that others might call writer's block, I just start writing. Anything. I'll even literally write, "I'm a little foggy on how to write this scene but it goes something like this..." And I go. My mind knows the story I want to write and once I get my fingers going, somehow I arrive there, I write what I want to say, and then later go back to make the changes the story needs.

It's your story. Own it. Take charge and write it down. Don't let little things like the myth of writer's block get in your way. That's just silly. :)(less)
Tyler Wandschneider Though I knew they were going to show up again today, the bastard still surprised me when he slid his head into view of my small bedroom window.

“Oh he…more
Though I knew they were going to show up again today, the bastard still surprised me when he slid his head into view of my small bedroom window.

“Oh hell! You son of a bitch," I yell. "Leave me alone.”

I was ready, though. With my Dock 9M4, I took aim through the bottom right corner of the window and shot him in the head. “Why do you insist on making me kill these men, you’ll never get me,” I say.

I don’t move like I did back in the day but I sure got out of my room in time. I slammed the door just as the second agent, assassin number two of the usual five, was crashing through the window. I got up early today and switched the door handle so it locks from the outside. That bugger will be stuck for hours, damn morons. “Not this time you son of a bitch!”

I ran to the left this time. Gotta keep them guessing. Then down the hallway to the stairs. I hustled but my knee hurts from yesterday. I don’t have time for the pain. In the stairs, I’m careful not to let my bare feet slap on the steps, I want to keep quiet. Tomorrow I’ll remember to wear shoes, I swear.

I was focused on the quietness of my steps so, naturally, they surprised me again when I saw another one through the window.

“Oh hell!” I said as my foot slipped on the last step. Good thing too because that’s precisely when he fired at my head. The bullet pierced through the window leaving a perfectly circular glass hole. Spidery cracks splayed outward. The bullet missed me and embedded in the top stair. I yelled back at him, “Leave me alone.” Then I fired back. He went down with a groan and I descended to the next floor. It always ended when I got outside. I have to get outside. The good guys always come to help when I get outside.

Much to my surprise, at the next floor, I find myself face to face with a pretty young lady. Never mind that she carries a tray full of lunch, I need to protect her. So I shove her into the nearest room, which happens to be the restroom, and yell, “Stay down and don’t make a sound.” I feel bad about her lunch but I don’t have time for guilt.

“Sir, I need-” She started but I slammed the door shut. I don’t have time for whatever she was going to offer about why she’s in my house. Though I am curious, I need to get downstairs.

I hurried along the hallway, my hand sliding against the cool of the painted masonry wall. My house is built like a fortress. I love my house. I never have to worry about food or doing my laundry. My knee hurts again, I don’t want to take these stairs. Never mind that, I’m under attack, I have to get outside.

I turn the stairs. There’s another one. “Oh hell!” I yell. They’re so black in their tactical gear, why do they need helmets and goggles? I’m seventy for crying out loud. I feel bad, he must be half my age and has a family. I don’t have time to worry about him. I shoot him too. Two in the chest. Damn, I’m still a good shot.

I tried to step over his fallen body but my heel slips off his leg and I stumble. My hand grabs the railing but it’s too late. My hip slams into the linoleum covered concrete floor and I hear a small crack.

“Oh hell!” I yelp. Yet another bruise to slow me down when they return tomorrow. I’ll still win today. I just need to get outside.

I muscle my way back to my feet and press on down the steps. Slowly. There’s one more agent, I know it. He’s always the hardest. Not to worry. I have my trusty vest on. It hurts like hell but it always stops the bullet.

Before I turn my last corner I take a few calming breaths readying myself for the final standoff.

I turn the corner taking aim. He’s always on the left side of the door at the counter. I have to be careful not to shoot my daughter so I focus. She’s always doing bills or something on that damn computer.

“Oh hell!” He’s on the other side of the door. The sun is bright today. I miss my shot completely he tags me again with two shots to the chest. “Oh hell!” I shout as I fall to the ground and slide, thankfully, behind the counter. My daughter gets up to help, “Mr. Da-”

“NO!” I yell at her. “Stay there, get down.” She does. It takes a moment but I get up to my knees. Damn hip really hurts! Usually, I pop up and take this guy by surprise, this time I’ll really get him when I come out from the side of the counter.

I position myself on my hands and knees. It will hurt when I do this but it will clear my way for the outside. Then I can end this.

I fall over onto my side, my Dock 9M4 aimed and ready. Pop! Pop! Pop! I shoot him three times before he makes a move.

I’ve done it!

“Oh hell! Don’t you guys learn your lesson? Retired, I’m still the best agent out there.” I struggle, but I get to my feet and hustle towards the door. They always come and then the bad guys leave. I think they wear white because they know I shoot the bad guys in black. And they always get to me just when I reach the doors to the outside. Then I know I’m safe.

I shuffle towards the doors, arms reaching out. I’m ready for this to end so the rest of the day is nice and peaceful. Tomorrow though, I’ll be ready with my shoes. I don’t know why, but I always seem to forget my shoes. The sun is bright and it’s warm and just as I touch the door, I feel a welcoming grasp take hold under my arm.

“Okay, Mr. Darius. That’s far enough.” Today it’s Sam. He’s my favorite. He’s not only nice but he’s strong as a tank and I never have to work too hard when going back to my room. “Did you shoot them all again today, Mr. Darius?”

“You betchyurass I did.” I say. “Every last one of them, sons of bitches.”

“Good. Nice work, Mr. Darius.” Sam says opening the elevator door with a push of a button. I turn to check on my daughter.

“Don’t worry, honey.” I say. “These guys are never gonna hurt my favorite daughter, you know that right?” I tell her for comfort. I worry that she’s afraid of the danger here.

“Yes, I know that Mr. Darius.” She says. “But I’m not your daughter, remember? I’m just the receptionist.”

“She’s so independent,” I say to Sam as we step into the elevator. “Hates it when I advertise our relationship.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of goofy like that isn’t she, Mr. Darius.” He says. “Those bad guys aren’t going to learn, huh?”

“No probably not.” I agree as the elevator closes us in.

“Then you’ll get them tomorrow.” His voice echoes.

“Maybe not.” I say. “I busted up my hip on this one. I’ll be slower tomorrow.”

“Well take it a bit easier then. I think you’re good enough to go slow and still win Mr. Darius. Don’t you think?” He says.

“Oh hell!” I spout. “You got that right!”

Sam leads me out of the elevator and walks me the short walk to my door. “Well here we are. Just five of them again, Mr. Darius?” He says as he opens my door.

“Yup.” I say nonchalantly before my memory returns. “Oh hell!” I yell as the first agent reveals himself from behind the door. No matter, I still have my Dock 9M4 so I put two in his chest. He falls to the floor and knowing that was the last of the bad agents, I hand my Dock 9M4 to Sam. “Can you clean this for me and get it ready for tomorrow?” I ask.

“Sure thing, boss,” Sam says as he plops me down on my recliner by the window. He then lifts the clipboard up off the wall and I watch as he uses my Dock 9M4 to write something down.

“That’s a pen too?” I shout at him.

“Yessir it is. All you retired agents get one like this.” He says with a wink.

“Oh hell!” I say slapping my thigh. “What’ll they make next?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure it’ll help you with the bad guys though,” Sam says with a smile. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Darius.”

“Thanks, Sam. See you tomorrow.”(less)
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