A Story Of A Short Story

This is a true story about two heroes. This story takes place during the summer of 2009. A family was spending the 4th of July weekend at the lake in Central Minnesota. The first hero’s name was Tatum. He and his step-sister, Bailey, were the first two on the tube. We made several laps around the lake until he saw another boat heading directly for them. Tatum was on the side closest to the oncoming boat. All he could think to do was to get bailey off the tube before it hit them. He pushed her off the back of the tube just as the boat rammed into his right side. The sound was an awful, loud thud as the boat drove over the tube without even slowing down.

The knock at the door startled Dana. She set the Bible she was reading aside, stood, and approached the door.

“Here,” Dean left his stoves and knelt down beside her. “I can’t let you clean up my mess.”

The old house groaned and creaked. Blake stepped over a pile of bloody glass. Someone, no something, had jumped through the window. She didn’t want to see anything more, but her feet kept moving. Blake turned the corner. The door to the parlour was ripped off it’s hinges. She didn't dare make a sound, the monster was still here, and it wanted her. The parlour couch was slashed open, it's stuffing falling out. A nasty red stain colored the white couch. A arm,mangle and shredded, was lying under the couch. Blake resisted the urge to throw up. She ran into the kitchen, trying to hide from her fate. A stench of blood filled my nostrils. Blake turned her head. A girl her age was lying on the floor. Her long blonde hair was matted with blood. Her neck was twisted at an odd angle. She had a bloody stump from where her arm was torn out of its socket. Long cuts indicated where an inhuman creature clawed open her chest.I had never seen her before. She was just a guest at this party. Blake knew Maia was here. Even if Blake found her, it was probably too late.

Bob suddenly woke up after feeling water on his bed in his 85th level apartment. He lived in an apartment in Old Manhattan, which he had lived in since he bought it in 2039 when he had just made a lot of money from the stock market. The water had been rising ever since 2050 when it first started rising up the streets in his neighborhood. Over the next 10 years, it had slowly crept up, passing the 1st floor, then the 2nd, one floor at a time. As the water kept coming up, it would weaken the walls, and you could feel the building swaying sometimes. It was now 2061, and it had finally reached his apartment. He would have to leave for higher ground, just like all his neighbors below him. Or, if he had enough money he would leave for space. However, he wanted to help save the earth, except he didn’t have the power. He was now 51 years old and didn’t want to move. He had chosen to move to New York, because he was scared of quiet, and New York was known back then for being loud. While he thought about his life, he quietly packed up all his things into a canoe, which he had for when this would happen. He had already decided to move to the Rocky mountains because it was the only mountain range he had heard of.

"I can't breathe," my friend whispered, blinking tears from her glossy eyes. I clenched my dirt ridden hands, feeling the sweat begin to streak down my forehead as I tried to find the words that could magically fix this mess. I couldn't find any.

His story began when he was a little boy living in America with his parents. Timmy was at his friend's house for a sleepover when he heard sirens. He looked out the window and saw the red fire trucks going in the direction of his house. He didn’t think anything of it, he thought it was a normal fire. The next day he got a call and it was from the local police station telling him that his parents died in a fire late last night. He was torn, he had three days to say goodby to all his friends in the US before he had to go to France. He was forced to go to France and live with his Aunt and Uncle. When he got there he was looking for their house for two days but could not find them. So, he went to get food at the local bread store and the owner had seen him around looking lost. He offered him a job and a home. Timmy called the owner Pere which means father in french He accepted and he worked and lived with the owner for many years.

My sister looks at me with boredom as I walk around. The house was basically empty with only us in the house since my parents were in a “car accident.” I walk upstairs throwing my body onto the bed, letting my eyes begin to get heavy, slowly drifting into sleep... I jolt up putting my hand on my head. It had seemed like somebody had shrieked out loud which made me wake up. I hear it again, a loud, painful shriek from downstairs.

I woke up in a snow covered forest, shivering as I looked around dazed and confused. I looked up and was met by a cloud-covered sun, surrounded by frosted trees. It must have been midday, I thought to myself,

“Yeah right!” Anna yelled as she kicked her horse and came chasing after me. We stopped at my grandpa’s farm.

The air turned black all around me, there was no one and nothing in sight. I was wandering in the desert in the dark all alone. Me and two of my friends Jeffrey and Taylor took a trip to Egypt to see the nile river and explore the desert. So we were enjoying our trip when out of nowhere a sandstorm brewed up, The storm being so hectic caused us to be separated from each other. So I am now lost and alone. Up till the storm the trip had been fun filled and stress relieving.

Knowing that her day was going to end in disaster, Marsha drove down the road from work cautiously. Her hand gripped the wheel firmly as she dodged the chances of crashing. At the same time she was trying her best to analize her day. The wonders of winning the contest first popped up in line. She dreamed of the prizes and the speech Tonas Lightning made. But the excruciating memory of Mrs. Jones’s insult blurred her vision. So she chose to forget about it. Marsha remembered when she ran up to her room one December day to find most of her advantages stolen. Then the incident when Mr. Guy whacked her eye causing a nasty black eye to appear on her beautiful face, in her opinion. But the note she stole was really pressuring her mind.

It was windy and foggy that day. I don’t even remember getting lost. All I remember were the other kids telling me to hide in the trees. Honestly, I don’t know if they even liked me. They always kept telling me I couldn’t talk to them in a group, but I just thought they were talking in private.

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.

Sit back, grab a bowl of popcorn, and get ready for what’s about to happen next. The initials A.S. will stick in my mind for the rest of my life. A.S. was a boy. He was a very important boy as matter of fact, or at least during my junior year of high school I thought he was important. But, to what extent is someone else’s importance greater than your own? Here I will explain to you a story of the boy who stole my self-worth and helped me gain it back. It begins in the end of December of the year 2016. Rumors of a new kid at school rung in my ears like church bells on a sunday morning (I don’t attend church but that’s besides the point). “He’s so hot” “I wonder what grade he’s in” all that fun mumbo jumbo. I’m not going to lie this is not a story of love at first sight because when I saw him, I did not see what all the hype was about. He was tall, so very tall, 6’1 to be exact. His eyes were some sort of a blue green, the kind of blue green that makes you sea sick just by looking at them. He had this stupid long light brown hair that felt like a cloud of everything I ever desired when I ran my fingers through it. I prefer not use his name but so begins the story of “the boy”.