A Short Story : A Story?

His body, as he got into bed, was icy. He could feel his conscious get gloomy with exhaustion but every time he let his eyes flutter closed, it seemed they were wide open staring into the dark bulky stone ahead of him in the morgue. With a deep breath Edmund shifted onto his side to calm his overstimulated nerves, conscious of his heart pounding against his frail chest again.

Jenna’s head throbbed, her eyes were hazy, she blinked struggling to make out her surroundings. She became conscious of a wetness on my arms and torso. Craning her head downwards she acknowledged the pool of crimson blood seeping from her forearms. The memory of drawing those thin lines replayed within her head, the distraction of the physical pain from the psychological battle. Having awoken from fainting after a loss of blood she felt faint and dizzy.

The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of

“At this moment Alice caught a glimpse of the vast form of her father, moving rapidly

His head began ringing from the sound, his body tensed up and warm tears began to drop from his face. Soon after, he fell unconsciousness and escaped the sounds that haunted him. He felt something warm brush his hand and a whisper in his ear.” Stay... strong... my darling” and his body suddenly felt calm. The warmness drifted away from his hand and He regained consciousness. He found himself still suffering from the shrieks of the fallen. He eyes opened wide, set up, leaned against his sister’s bed and sighed. He pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his leg waiting for the screams to stop. In that moment, area fell into a loud silence.

Meanwhile a silent scene took place between the girl and the man. Not a word passed their lips, only their eyes met. However, the understanding between them had a terrifying quality of magic, as if he were the master of a puppet show and she were a puppet obedient to his every

We broke apart, foreheads touching. Being just as breathless as me, Nolan murmured, "It was all my fault. I can't believe Chase was the . . . And, I dragged you down with me." His eyes scanned my face which I knew still had cuts from the shattered glass. His hand cupping my face, traced a cut on my left cheek. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against the spot. My eyes fluttered shut. "I'm so sorry, Helen," he whispered, his eyes sorrowful as he retreated. His own pale face revealed a dark blue spot under his right eye. There was a long gash under his ear

He turned his head. With features distorted in pain, he looked directly at her. The longing in his eyes was unmistakable. His mouth began to move. She couldn’t hear any words. There was only silence. His hand rose wavering beckoning her to come closer.

An immense pressure bore in her head as she slowly awoke from her midday slumber, her daydreams slowly fading away from her mind. Reality sunk in, and she found herself awake. Dim light shone through the windows and it pierced her eyes, worse than a thousand needles ever could. Her mental screams sounded that of countless condemned souls, shrieking for life

Gerard rolled over and sat up as he heard Mikey open cabinets and drawers downstairs. His head still felt heavy and fuzzy with disorientation, like it had been yesterday, feeling like someone had filled his head with molten metal and it had slowly hardened overnight. He placed his feet on the carpet and willed his legs to allow him to stand up on the cold, hard wood. He didn't feel particularly sick, more depersonalized, like a part of him was still laying in bed

Even though I was very weak, I could feel warmth through my arms that gave me strength. My grip was not painful but yet their eyes grew wide as their necks stiffened. I was replaying all of the moments that they had wanted to forget. Death, violence, childish innocence. All with my bare fingers. “Sylwia, leave.” I said softly. All of my energy is destroying itself in this moment as I continue to press my fingers. I can barely speak already. I tried to make her understand the severity of the situation. Her thoughts ran through my mind, all of them panicked. She ran to grab some of her things. Before both of our hearts could burst, she whispered, “I will see you in the next life, Leon.” How could she know? I tried opening my mouth to speak, but suddenly the muscles in my jaw clenched shut. All of the lights flickered in the apartment. I could not utter a single world as my head knocked back to reveal a new world of

As Maci headed upstairs with her head down in anger because her mom had cut her hair to short, she did not realize that the stairs were moving. They looked hazy and she was so mad that she didn’t even realize what was going on. Until that very moment she lifted her head up and saw that magnificent and almost scary figure waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

The heavy darkness pressed against John's weak chest suffocating him, he fumbled as he tried to locate the flashlight. There was no way to escape this gloomy darkness. The stench of rotting corpses, fresh blood and the damp walls surrounded him in his last dreadful hours. The musty, dank odour crept into his nose. There was dead silence, he could hear his breath in a vigorous pattern. The sweat from his body ran down to his palate, made him realise the agony of a broken heart.

He tried to call out to Io, tried to beg him for help, but he couldn’t. Strings of words wove themselves together above his head, but refused to make any sense. Someone stripped him; someone else stuck something to his forehead and chest, arms and legs. A dot of pain in his hand felt like an IV.

OW. The outward pressure on his upper back from his jittering chest sent fresh spirals of pain lancing through his shoulder right in time with her story. It was convincing, to say the least, the way he crumpled and clenched his teeth, sucking air through a jaw that threatened to crack under