A Short Story : A Story?

He has these visions of the sky being lit up from bombs and explosives dropping down on New York City, pummeling it to the ground. The city was destroyed by fires from the skies of weapons of unbelievable horror and poisonous mist that chewed up everything it touched.

It was a cold and foggy wednesday morning on june 10th. Hunter was sleeping on his bed when he heard his mom call him.

“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.

The bright blue sky of that fateful morning soon turned to grey. Smoke and ashes perforated the lungs of escaping people as they scrambled to get to safety. The streets of Manhattan, earlier bustling with automobiles now was a sea of fearful people. They ran as fast as they could, trying to escape the inferno, trying to imagine exactly what had just happened to them. Many were unaware of two planes, many thought it was perhaps a bomb exploding as it had in the past with considerably far less damage to the buildings. It was to everyone’s surprise and horror that the towers

*Slam*. The door shuts. The room was silent, you could hear a pin drop. Leah left and I heard the car start up. We’ve never gotten in a fight like this. Tears started streaming down my face. The tears started streaming down my face harder and harder by the second. AGHHHHH I screamed. I slowly got up from the table the chair squeaking making the same sound it made when Leah left. WOOSH. I think that was the fastest I’ve EVER turned around. I saw a small shadow. Nobody else was home. but there was still a shadow? I walked around the corner…nothing. I ran upstairs and WOOSH again. I checked my bedroom and Leah’s bedroom. There was nothing in there.

Ringing the doorbell several times, Karen screamed, pounding on the door, she yelled, “Wake up Dan. Wake up, Dan! I need your help.”

He checked his rearview. Several cars back a white van followed. He’d noticed it twice now. It was the kind of van the mob used, no side or back windows, a solid screen separating the cab from the rear. He’d keep an eye on it. Doing so was second nature. Used to following, he was expert at knowing when he was followed. But the van turned off.

"Seriously, you should totally do it" Max threw his head while letting out a low laugh that was escaping his lips. His muscular body was leaning against the bar watching the sea of teens dancing and drinking around like it was their last day living

He was right there in front of me, kneeling with arms out-stretched, waiting for me to jump in them. His face was indistinguishable because of the shadow his cover cast upon it, but a smile was clearly on his face; and I knew, my eyes shining with emotion, were reflected somewhere under that cover. I ran to him as fast as my legs could carry me, but before I could reach him, the world around me transformed and I was alone once more. I was outside, in front of my climbing tree, around its trunk was the ribbon. I hated this ribbon and wished with all my might that I could tear it down. It was the yellow service ribbon- a, "ribbon of waiting" my mother used to call it. It was nothing but a reminder, a signal to everyone around us. All it did was mock me with its presence, mocked me with the cruel reminder that the man I was running after would always be just out of my grasp, unattainable to me.

“Hannah drove her to the doctor,” Shaw told him. “She needed something to help her relax.”

The putrid purple of old bruises gleamed helplessly against the limpid replacements— it was all my fault.

The warm garlic bread scraped and clawed in my throat, begging not to be thrown into the dark dungeon, known as my stomach. Still, I held my nose and swallowed. I tore piece after piece of the garlic bread and plopped them into my mouth, begging myself to swallow. They’re still watching, I thought as I grabbed the last piece of garlic bread.

Joe woke up. He turned his head to the left to look it at his clock. It read June 28 2020. He could feel the warm summer air in his room and the smell of breakfast coming from down the hallway. He opened his door and looked down the hallway and saw his father cooking bacon and eggs. He could hear his mom in the shower listening to music. He walked down his hallway say “good morning” to his dad as he walked by his dad. His dad just looked in his direction and kept cooking. As he sait down he felt something was off about his dad. His dad was a very talkative person with something always on his mind dieing to tell anyone.

Jinyoung sat with his legs beneath himself in front of his small table not tall enough to reach his knees. He was tired from working all day at his numerous low paying jobs. Even the bright lights of Seoul were still too dim to light up his cluttered yet empty kitchen. He slumped back down, now imperfect posture, as he stared at the pile of bills in his hand. Tears threatened to leak from his eyes until he heard his daughter Rosé enter the room, quickly he hid the papers and presented a smile on his face.

Most people who’d undergone pain would say that going home after an incident would be the worst part, having to deal with the aftermath of their emotional outbursts and what was happening. Vivian, however, felt nothing as she walked. The cold wind was biting through her, and she could sense that rain was coming nearby, mainly due to the odd twinge in the air that she’d learned to avoid having a delicate instrument with her at all times. Yet now she walked through the streets alone, each step pressing on the cold stones underneath her and making her that much more worried as to what she was going to do.