The warm summer day was coming to a close. The moon would soon replace the fiery sun. The bright stars would illuminate the sky and the crickets would start chirping. I was a night owl. I hated waking up at the crack of dawn I instead would stay up into the wee hours of the night. Laying out on my balcony gazing up at the stars was my favorite thing to do. But tonight, I couldn’t stop replaying last nights events in my head. I was watching Jurassic World in the basement of my childhood home. The wallpaper was outdated with its floral print and the green carpet had one two many stains. But I didn’t care it was home and nothing was going to change that. Just as Chris Pratts character slid under the gate of the raptors cage a loud bang startled me. I jolted and flipped the bowl of popcorn onto the floor. I shook my head. Its an old house it was just the house settling. I …show more content…
My heart was beating erratically my whole body was trembling, silent tears ran down my face. His other hand grasped my legs. I couldn’t move I was paralyzed by fear. Come soon I thought. Please someone come help me. I tried to scream but to anvil. His grubby fingers were digging into my calves as he jostled me around. He was trying to through me over the railing. I kicked my feet attempting to break his hold it was no use I was falling. My life flashed before my eyes. I could faintly hear my mom screaming in the background, police sirens sounded from everywhere and before I knew I was hitting the ground. But instead of being hard like I had imagined it would be, it was soft almost like a pillow. I opened my eyes and saw the officers slap some sliver handcuffs onto the intruder’s hands. That brought instant relief he could no longer harm me. I took in my surroundings and realized I had landed on a mattress. Had that been there? My mom rushed over to me and gently pulled the duct tape off my
The window was cold to the touch. The glass shimmered as the specks of sunlight danced, and Blake stood, peering out. As God put his head to the window, at once, he felt light shining through his soul. Six years old. Age ceased to define him and time ceased to exist. Silence seeped into every crevice of the room, and slowly, as the awe of the vision engulfed him, he felt the gates slowly open. His thoughts grew fluid, unrestrained, and almost chaotic. An untouched imagination had been liberated, and soon, the world around him transformed into one of magnificence and wonder. His childish naivety cloaked the flaws and turbulence of London, and the imagination became, to Blake, the body of God. The darkness lingering in the corners of London slowly became light. Years passed by, slowly fading into wisps of the past, and the blanket of innocence deteriorated as reality blurred the clarity of childhood.
His screams are getting louder, I screamed with fear and desperately hoping that someone would save me. I screamed one more time hoping someone will come and help me.
“Men, for many of you, today is your first day training as a Knight of Camelot,” said Prince Arthur to the group standing before him. “And be grateful you’re not stuck in a torrential downpour as I was on my first day of training here on this very field. The sun is shining and I plan to work you hard.”
I heard a blood-curdling scream and I jumped. I felt silent tears running down my heavily scarred face, but they weren’t out of sadness. Mostly. They were a mixture of pain and fear. I ran into the eerie, blood-splattered room and screamed as I felt cold fingers grab my neck.
It is 6:25 in the morning. The outside is still pitch black; there is no hint of sunlight coming through the curtain. It will be hours before sunrise. I can barely see my fingers in front of my face.
How long had it been now? Days, weeks, months? There was simply no telling as it felt just like yesterday when I last stood here. The clouds above oozed and wafted the sun, casting a shadowy darkness onto the house in the distance.
There was nowhere to go. My feet try to dodge the cracks and holes on what's left of the floor. I suddenly felt my foot get caught by something, sending my whole body straight down. I ignored the pain and look to see a firm hand gripping my ankle.
A thick plume of black smoke and ash hung in the air in a heavy haze, almost completely obscuring the lurid red glow of the waning sun. Below, a cloud of grey plaster dust twisted and writhed amid the sea of debris as intermittent eddies of wind gusted by.
I awake to my phone's alarm, alerting me that it is time to get ready for school. Winter break is officially over. I groan and roll over snatching the device from the charger while tapping dismiss. It's time to start my day.
Diego was a ordinary high school kid just trying to fit in with the crowd, he wasn’t athletic or strong mentally and physically but he was a very intelligent kid. He always had straight A’s and knew almost everything in every subject. Even though he was so smart, he didn’t think he was good or strong enough because a few days ago Diego and his brother Carl 14 years old, were mobbed while walking home from school and it’s an event that he won’t ever forget.
Time ticks by slowly as I tap the worn eraser of my pencil on my notepad. Only three more hours to go. One hour each. Each hour consists of three sets of twenty minutes. If I can just make it through nine sets of twenty minutes, I will be alright.
For my first piece of original writing I intend to create a piece primarily written for entertainment however, I also want to portray an interest into historical and political persuasions. I aim to write this piece for an audience of teenagers to young adult who are aged from around fifteen to twenty-five and are male, I also wish to identify with those interested in political thrillers within this age range. The genre of which shall be a short fiction story consisting chiefly of narrative and written in the third person. I picture this piece as being one of a collection of short stories concerned with the political-thriller fiction sub-genre. Despite being a fiction text I aim to tie in real world non-fiction.
For the entirety of elementary school, the one part of my day that I would look forward to the most was the very end. As darkness fell and the day drew to a close, I would be rested on top of my purple and pink bedsheet with only the bedside lamp on. My father would lightly tap on the door to signal his arrival and slowly push it open. The hinges would inevitably send out a shriek of opposition, and my father would make a face. This is how I knew my nightly routine was about to start.
I scarcely snoozed at all, the day before; incidentally, I felt insecure regarding the fact of what the unfamiliar tomorrow may bring and that was rather unnerving. After awakening from a practically restless slumber, I had a hefty breakfast expecting that by the conclusion of the day, all I wanted to do is go back home and sleep. Finally, after it was over, my dad gladly drove me to school; there, stood the place where I would spend my next four years of my life.
My hand shaking at every thought, a cold shiver ran down my spine as cold sweat trickled down the side of my forehead. I lifted my hand up and a strong smell hit my nose, it was the smell of blood. I lifted the object and shock hit me like lightening, fear displaced my sadness, sickness changed my bloodstream from blood to a thick liquid pus and vomit. I held the muscle with my right hand as my left hand was paralysed with shock. The adrenaline shot me forcing me to move but shock shattered me into thin slices that were impossible to put back again.