A Short Story : A Story?

Nicholas Khoury Ms. Schechinger Intro to College Writing 6 August 2014 Quote Analysis “I was subject to fits of feeling myself unworthy…. It didn't take much to bring this sensation to life, along with the certainty that everybody but my mother saw through me and did not like what they saw” (Wolff 11).

Maybe it's the red light, but everywhere I look, the walls bleed more blood than a wall should ever bleed. It calls to me and I see faces. I see Richard and Wesley and Astrid and other men, women and children. Their blood paints these walls and the guards don’t even give a second thought to the brushes they hold. I am thrown into a pitch black room.

Oh great it’s the sergeant is chasing me great why can’t I get a break.i’m really tired. I’ve been running all day. Okay he is getting close perfect a bunch of bushes.know he’s stopping what is he doing at this point. Yeah yeah hover right over the bushes where I am okay I should stop. Why does he breath so heavy seriously who does that it’s like a he’s blowing a tornado.finally he’s leaving seriously I was going to get blown away from that guy i don’t even know why i’m still talking about this. That was weird.time to get back on track. Yay more walking to the armory seriously this all happened in one day.okay i’m finally at the armory. You're kidding me there is no ammo our guns. So now I have to get ammo from the bodies gross still in one day.now i’m at the raid site my legs are on fire i’m so tired okay back on track. Time to pull the gun from the body. okay pulling the bodies cold gripping flesh this is completely normal done did it never going to forget that.now I got new ammo and a gun one clean shot should do it. Oh I see him. Boom! Done it’s over. Perfect timing a time window time to really go home. Finally back at the lab. Time to go to bed. It feels good to be in my time

“Uh, yeah! Sure!” When I knew I was l alone I ran all over town looking for the source of the snow. I finally found it at an abandoned warehouse just outside of town. I waited a couple of seconds before saying something but before I could, someone spoke.

and it closed softly behind me, the blades snick-ing back into their places and the alarm re-engaging behind my back. I looked around, keeping perfectly still with my body pressed into the shadows against the door, my eyes narrowed and my breath coming and going silently through my mouth. The room was bare except for a white block about the size of a

I listened to the weapon’s high pitched tone lessen as it discharged behind me. It didn’t take long before I heard the familiar beep notifying me that the weapon was harmless once again. From what was standing before me in my doorway (at that particular moment), I was happy one part of my body could still function. although, breathing was necessary, what was between my ears was what had more importance for now. What was standing in front of me had instantly froze my feet in place, had widened my eyes as far as they could go, and stopped my heart. I didn’t know what to say, let alone what to do.

Assed turned around and shut the door behind him with a smile on his face. “I’ve waited for this moment for a very long time.”

There was more than a touch of unpleasantness contained within that safe. Across the room, however, was my real arsenal: a two-tiered bookcase made of pressed particleboard that I'd picked up at a garage sale for five dollars. Crammed in it and disguised by a simple holographic misrepresentation which caused the volumes on the shelves to appear as a complete run of the Ace Science Fiction Specials from the 1960s, was in fact such a collection of ancient tomes of mind- blasting lore as to give the cognoscenti of such things many sleepless nights: The Book of Eibon, Cultes des Goules, De Vermis Mysteriis, The Eltdown Shards, The People of the Monolith, The Pnakotic Manuscripts, the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan, Unaussprechlichen Kulten, and the dreaded Al-azif itself, know also as the Necronomicon. Should the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse show up, even wearing Armani and Kevlar while driving SUVs and brandishing Russian assault rifles, I was ready for them. While finishing the assemblage of the gun, I glanced up long enough to make sure that whoever had entered a little less than four minutes ago wasn't, say, a Mi-Go intent on booking me for a missing-persons case--with me as the star. I'd registered earlier the sound of my client--or so I hoped-- standing and moving desultorily about the outer office. There being no indication of impatience in the light steps, I merely raised my gaze, intending nothing more than a cursory glance and a word or two of reassurance before completing my work. Instead I stared, motionless, like a hare transfixed by the glittering gaze of a

Suddenly I was in the familiar white armory, weapons indented in black padding all along the walls.

The small flashlight I hold under my gun does little to illuminate the room. I glance around the room, quickly taking in the rusted machinery and twisted pieces of metal; broken glass crunches beneath my feet. What’s left of the windows have been boarded up, causing the near blinding blackness. Rats scurry across the cavernous space, no doubt resenting our abrupt intrusion.

“You’re busy. I’ll drop by later,” you said, trying to escape the building, but he pulled you back.

Once having pushed past the crowd and arriving at the empty area of the cafeteria, and starting making my way tot he exit, again on all fours to avoid any confrontation. The crinkles of a folded map made me flinch and while useful to find out directions to nearby stores it sure was loud. Thump. Thump. Thump. Are those footsteps? Or my racing heart? A chill ran down my back and I switched my weapon. A lowly screwdriver was then gripped in my hand and a cold sweat on my back. By now, I was regretting the decision not to grab the nail gun from the woodworking class, then again it’d be impossible to be stealthy with that hunk of metal in your arsenal, useless too when out of gas.

"Sir this is the special registration room, you can't move from here until I let you go." He finished the discussion toughly.

“Are you serious about this? Do you even know how to use a rifle? Why do you need a rifle in the first place?”

Slowly I crept towards, what was thought to be an exit. I heard a click, in the back of my ear and froze solid, as a gun came into view. The arm