A Short Story : A Story Of A Story

The heat was unbearable, but I forced myself to keep going. ‘Left,right,left,right again’, I thought. I ran as if my life depended on it and know that I think about I guess, in a sense it sort of did. Screaming out, I yelled “Sarah, Sophia, Jessica, Anybody?”. “Can you guys hear me, please come out!”, my voice echoed through the halls. I was met with silence. Doors were slammed one after another by the force of my hand. No one in my sight, Smoke was starting to cloud my vision, it grew hotter, coughing uncontrollably I marched on. Praying in my mind I checked the last room. Even in the smoke, the heat, I could make out something in the corner of my eye. I drew closer to the shiny object. Careful steps were made and soon I sighed a sigh of relief. The three girls in question were huddled up in a corner. “Guys….come….here..”,my voice was hoarse ,but they got the message loud and clear. Sophie, the energetic little blonde looked up. “Ray! You’re here!” Hugging them all tightly, I felt at peace hearing their voices and their even breathing, I let go once I reassured that they were safe. With Sophie in my arms, Sarah on my hip and my hand intertwined with Jess’s I turned abruptly Fire engulfed my vision. I felt my heartbeat faster as I stared death in the eye.‘Great, just great’,. My eyes scanned the room in a frantic hurry until the inally laid upon the window. Climbing out, I heard a chorus of fearful shrieks. I myself wanted to shriek, but I couldn’t I

1. Her feet slammed against the cold, wet ground, as she navigated through the maze. The maze that she had been held captive in for many years, she had forgotten what the sun felt like. The lights held to the ceiling by a couple wires, flickered and swayed, indicating the presence of her captor. She lost her ability to stand, and fell to the floor, her head crashed on the cold concrete that smelled of rotting flesh. A stream of dark liquid, which she identified as her blood, trickled out of her skull. Just before losing consciousness, she looked across the narrow hall where she lay. She recognized her brother's fragile body hanging from the ceiling. She used the rest of her energy to wail in mourning of the last person she loved in the world that used to be alive. She cried until her captor whisked her away, to her certain death.

I heard a knock at the door. It was my best friend Greta! I was excited to see her, but something wasn't right. She looked absolutely terrified. I had wondered what had happened ,but before I could ask she said,"Heidi, I went home after dinner--my family Heidi!” She was crying hysterically. I replied, “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” She said,”It can’t wait till tomorrow!” She had finally told me what had happened her family was taken. I din’t know what to think. I told her that I might be able to help, however I don’t really know. I went to my bed. I couldn’t sleep almost whole night. Greta’s words thundered in my mind. I wanted to help her, but I din’t want to hurt my family. I knew that if I helped her that my family could get hurt. We could all get hurt.

The boy’s father reached over and pulled his son closer to him and whispered “we do not ask questions like that? It might have embarrassed her.” Looking at Rachel, trying to judge what she was thinking.

It was an absolute disaster. I pinch my face in disgust as I pick up one of the gooey clumps that were supposed to resemble sugar cookies.

It was 7:00 am, March 17, 2018, a Saturday in Japan. It was a beautiful normal day, the sun smiled happily peeking behind a marshmallow cloud at the Ortega family. The Ortega family came out of their old rusted apartment, into their old grey broken windowed car. The apartment was filthy and was covered in moss, and their car was as old as their ancestors. Their dad Isaac dove. He is 37 years old, tall, with hazel eyes, curly dark hair that was as fluffy as a rabbit’s cottontail, was a couch potato, and needed to work out. Isabella, the mom, is 31 years old, with long light brown hair, carribean blue eyes, short and skinny, and she is loving and hardworking. “Mommy”, Lily said kindly. “Yes, sweetie”, mom replied. “Mommy milk”, Lily said. Lily is a 2 year old, a late walker (which meant she could only crawl), with light brown curly hair, and carribean blue eyes. “Be quiet”, Emma yelled meanly. “Mommmmmm!”, Lily said. Lily started crying, so loud it sounded like someone clanging the cymbals. “You both be quiet” said John. Emma is 13 year old, a skinny bone jones, short (in John’s terms), long straight light brown hair, and ocean blue eyes. John was turing today 15, he is tall and likes baseball, he has pure hazel eyes, and dark brown curly hair. This family was going to a new dome shape baseball stadium and was watching the Yomiuri Giants V.S. Tokyo Yakult Swallows.

My mother died when I was just 3 years old. I do not remember much of her, other than a glimpse of her face, smiling down at me. My father is a distant man. He has never said more than a few words at a time to me, even during our study sessions. He will assign me a lesson, and simply watch as I complete it. My only confidant is Ms. Matilda, the family maid. She takes the time to listen to me.

“If I told you that a long time ago the entire world rested in the hands of one very unruly child, you probably wouldn’t believe me. So that is why I don’t tell stories to people that often. I can't really, because not everyone is willing to believe a cloud is talking to them. Some are just too unimaginative to believe it,”

“Ouch!” Nova mumbled as she sat up holding her head. It felt like she had been hit with a baseball bat. Nova was a teenage girl with long black hair. Her skin was of a dark complexion. Her eyes were blurry because of the terrible headache she had. As she slowly gets up to examine her environs, she realizes she was in the middle of what seemed to be an abandoned circus tent. There were few rusted metal chairs and leftover rubbage. The weather-beaten tent was ridden with holes and reeked of mold. Finally, there was one thing to inspect, a rope. She walks over to the rope and pulls it out of curiosity. Due to this action, the curtain behind her rose, revealing an empty stage. Suddenly, the lights went out. When they came back on she was in the center of the tent again. The only nuance was the man standing on the stage.

Jerry came home from work later than usual that Friday night. He didn’t say hello when he found me in our bedroom, but thrust the glittery pink bag at my chest and waited with half of a grin.

I looked at the dark, blank floor. It seemed to be just as stupid, and empty as I was. This cell was like a cage, and it was uncomfortably cold and wet. I only had myself to keep me warm. I wonder if I'll ever get out of here. All the choices I've made, I thought they were right. Turns out they weren't. I shouldn't of accepted that letter! It has only caused me pain and loss. I miss my family... they're probably thinking I am having the time of my life, at this ”camp”. All of this was a big, old lie, and I wish they knew that...

(No one saw the agent place a small device under the bumper of the van and then slip back into the bushes)

I was at New York, Brooklyn to be exact I was there to visit my families like my cousins my grandparents my aunts and my uncles. I was sleeping at my cousin's apartment I was cramped on the top bunk with my cousin Nadine she's the same age as me. Nadine and I were 10. finally, I woke up and so did Nadine we climb the ladder down to the living room which is right next to the bedrooms we slump on the couch and turn the tv on.

The orphanage reeked of sweat and mould, which was very uncommonly unhygienic for the town’s standards. The children were dirty and unbathed; their clothes more like tattered scraps. Any form of donation or money was scarce, and the owners were greedy. Money mysteriously disappeared from all the charity funds, but somehow Ms Okomatsa got nicer clothes and fine jewellery.

I wish I could say that it was all good until the very end, I wish I could say that fairy tales