Arms: A Short Story

“Make it all stop...” he whispered consciously. 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.

My mind was going one thousand miles per hour, those words haunting my head. Hot tears flowed down my face as the words sunk in. I slumped in my seat feeling exhausted and too cold for this warm house. My father’s arms reached for me, trying to comfort me. He wouldn’t understand the mental loss that was turning into physical pain. My chest heaved for air, trying to get this drowning feeling out of these thoughts that envelope me bringing a soft cloak of anxiety. “Not again, please.”

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

A morbid melancholy stole over me. Anxiety gnawed at my heart. I was a living corpse. There was a feeling of chill in the air every day as I felt. I faked illness so as not to go to school. Despair hangs heavy in the stifling air. It was a dreary day for me , cold and without sunshine. I dread people and always avoid people. The door was locked from the inside. A cold grey light crept under the curtains. The windows were secured with locks and bars. The room felt cold and sterile.The flowers faded for want of water. A single lamp was suspended from the ceiling. The clock ticked louder and louder in a quiet room. I regarded the room as a refuge from the outside

As she hastily made her way through the long-winded hallway, the realisation of her husband being away at war suddenly hit her. The delight evident on her face swiftly turned into an expression of extreme woe. Heartbroken by the fact that he was missing this major milestone, her eyes were a waterfall, dripped with salty tears down her

Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately

I could feel the breeze skim through my hair as my loose shirt caught the brisk air behind me. This was my sanctuary, the feeling was bliss. I made my way home, bracing myself for the approaching argument I was about to have with my mother. That feeling of pleasure left my body as quickly as it arrived. I stepped into the front door, and closed it behind me as quietly as I could, maybe she wouldn't notice I was late home. But before I could even take the first few steps inside, I heard mum coming from the kitchen,

As the Profession of Arms, we have the unique trust of the American public. As part of that trust, we Human Resources Non-Commissioned Officers must strive to maintain and improve our record keeping by enforcing higher standards, improving morale and all Army values such as Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity and Personal

Jack nudged Tricker's arm. "You want her to do something? Well how about this?" Jack stood up and turned toward the blonde girl. She looked at him, her eyes kind of mean. "Hey slut, how'd you like to suck some fresh cock!" Jack yelled at her. The blonde looked shocked.

There was a thunderous crash, and I instinctively held on to the seat in front of me and closed my eyes. I felt the crash in my bones as I slid to the aisle and the bus split from the sign. The noise of another women, screaming as she feared death, but nothing compared to me, dying before seeing my dear, dear Lily. Tires screeched, and howls of pain dominated my ears, the prickly glass shards fell over me. In just a few seconds it was all over and everything was still. I dared not to open my eyes, my heart threatening to

Crumpled newspapers scattered the table like the bones of dead bodies after war. Windows wiped down of memories huddled between oak frames, facing a street with cosy cottages. Single embroidered carpets hugged the floor, covering the marble tiles in delicate silk. A whisper of wind floated in through cracks of the panes of glass, whispering it's songs of misery throughout the house. I breathed in gulps of air, allowing the icy coolness to fill my lungs, and the morning frost creep out. My glistening blue eyes presented purple bags, and my sleek hair was a tangled cobweb. My feet dragged along the stone floor like the walking of the undead. I’d been up all night, searching and seeking for answers.

A sudden emptiness seemed to flow from the sweltering air and into our thoughts. The drive back from New York felt hauntingly isolated. Uncomfortable silence filled the yellow car. The silence was only to be broken by warm air whistling as Daisy’s white dress swooshed around through the gentle breeze.

One terribly chilly night Daisy’s father went outside to check on the horse. This was his daily routine. He would refill the water, stock the food and brush the horse's mane. When he was around the horse, he always felt a sense of safety and warmth, but tonight things were different. He came upon the barn and he saw her. She was laying on the ground stiff. She was

The early sombre sky was dominated by charcoal swirls of clouds heavily hovering over the bustling city of Seoul. A muted shade, like an ancient matte photograph, spread across the diaspora with only the occasional colours of the subdued crowd that moved in unison like swarms of sardines. Tick-tock. Everyone

Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s