August Rush Short Story

“There was music from my neighbor's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and he champagne and the stars. At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his motor-boats slid the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam. On week-ends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains. And on Mondays eight servants, including an extra gardener, toiled all day with

The mouldy, rotting, brown house stood in front of Emily, only fear keeping her feet planted to the ground. Moaning and creaking noises being projected from the house. The grass was damp from the evening fog and every time she took a step the mud squelched. The bottom step squeaked as she applied pressure with her foot, she let out a sigh of relief as the old structure hadn’t swallowed her up. The door, slightly off colour from the rest of the house, loomed over her like a giant as he reached for the brass door handle. A shiver ran through her body like an electric current, the musty smell of a house that had been long abandoned filled Emily’s nose. It was dim and uninviting. The furniture dusty and old, looking as if it would crumble to dust if she was to touch it. Mould ate away at

“It’s not everyday we get company around here,” I reminded myself, “we haven’t shown our chateau in ages.” As we walked down the elegant staircase, each step creaked one by one. My hand-held lamp with the bright, burning fire was in clutch as we walked around the dusty furniture until we saw some of my men. They were silent, but you could see the fear in their eyes - almost like the fear in Rainsford’s. One had the guts to come up, and offer another light looking for a way to impress me with his concern, but I quickly declined.

He waited until the night’s 11th hour. By now the Princess rested in the highest tower of the castle, locked away from the dangerous world, yet so oblivious to the dangers that which fated the rest of her life. Silently the peasant journeyed outside, where he stopped at the wall of the tower where she lay. He watched her in the darkness from below, lifting his face to her, letting the light rest on his every surface of darkness. The night was cloudless. The winds wailed between the motionless oak trees as its thin branches clawed out, ever so slightly disturbing the leaves with its hostile screeches. Not the thick moss of the trees nor the damp leaves squirming in his toes could distract the peasant from so enticing a scent. All that encircled him was the sweetness of lavender and rosewood, filling his entire being as he sunk into the grass, like sand washed over by the water, with every breeze passing

Chapter 1 A young woman appears out of nowhere and quickly catches up to another who's dashing along a moonlit lane. "Are we late?" She asks as she falls into step besides the older woman. "No not yet, but we need to hurry, we don't have much time." "Follow me," the older woman replies, and her dark cloak billows about casting shadows on the high stone walls that border the lane. They walked side by side in silence for a long ways and then through a set of huge iron gates swung opened before them and onto a narrow driveway. A manor house grew out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive, lights glinting in the windows. Gravel crackled beneath their feet as speeding toward the front door, which swung inward at their approach, though

Flicked, short motion of his thumb against his forefinger, that piece of filth she had missed from the table, uncaring as to which surface it was to sail to next- dispassionate gaze barely lifting from the table top long enough to assure that she had observed him doing so. Correcting that which she had been asked to do, to fix. Personal objects, dirt, and all manner of other he didn't want to examine too closely littering the surfaces of this apartment that he had followed her back to- serpentine gestures and back alleyway paths as if she could shake off whatever shadow it was she felt no doubt trickling down the edge of her spine. Was a creature bathed in deception and suspicion, shouldn't have at all been surprised that it was such

It was a cloudy day, a mild 78 degrees and Lezley McSpadden was taking a drag of her cigarette outside of the local grocery store where she was employed. She was midway through her shift when a friend of hers called and said that someone had been shot by Canfield Green Apartments. Maybe it’s only a mother’s instinct to recoil in fear, but in that moment Lezley could think only of her son Michael. Michael had recently graduated three months before and she wasn’t sure of his

Outside, a deep silence fell over the neighborhood. This silence crept into every household. Members of the community had a guise of anger and pain expressed on their faces. Everyone locked themselves inside, to lament such a tragedy that has brought sorrow to a twelve years old’s family. Parents fell on their knees with tears in their eyes. This last murder represented the final straw. So many of their own had been murdered by the malicious, metallic, monsters that were supposed to be the defenders of their community. They felt insecure, threatened by the

As I drove downtown to visit Carol and Lee, I looked for a back way back in which would mean that I wouldn’t be seen. I wandered around for a while, eventually finding their house situated a few hundred yards from a McDonald on Bragg Boulevard and saw an alleyway behind the restaurant. I went to McDonald, where I waited a while before exiting into the back alley to see if I was followed. When I was convinced that it was all clear, I leaped over the fence into Carol’s backyard and up to the door.

Rain fell from the cloudy night sky and pounded against the ground, and standing off from a two-story house was a man dressed in a traditional men’s kimono. He watched as the parents of Sarah and Samantha, Dennis and Caroline climbed into their Maroon Honda Pilot as they did every Friday night at 8pm until midnight, leaving their two 16 year old daughters all alone. His eyes followed the car intently as it drove down the road with several different colored leaves blended together on the road and the two back tires of the car. Once it turned the corner, out of sight, he turned back to the house. As he watched them through the bay window leading to the living room he went through the facts of his victims over in his mind. While they were twins, they were very different. Sarah, the older twin was very adventurous while Samantha kept more to herself. Along with the facts of the girls going through his mind he was wondering if he was going to kill them right away or if he was going to take them to a house that he had set up for his victims in one of the abandoned houses in the woods. The man was brought out of his thoughts as another car pulled into the driveway. He relaxed once he saw that it was just the delivery guy from the local pizza place, right on schedule.

Jonathan is battling with depression and he is trying to use drugs and alcohol to mask his thoughts of worthlessness. The morning of 9/11, he is shocked by the news just like everybody else but when he goes to donate blood, he realizes that he still has drugs in his blood from the night before. But since they didn’t need any blood, he felt relieved, but feeling that made him more guilty about himself. He then gets asked by his neighbor to help her go to the city to say goodbye to her husband. They go downtown and as they are walking and looking for a morgue, he is weirded out by everything that his going on. He goes on to say, “We started walking east towards Bellevue. I remember we passed a restaurant where some people were outside eating. It was so strange, the world seemingly

The sun broke through the grey and breathed life into the awakening city. The woman’s eyes though opened, were empty and moved accordingly to the flock of doves that soared through the chilled air. She gazed at the beautifully choreographed dance above where delicate wings formed prominent silhouettes against the comforting rays. The ancient apple tree which only last month was a mess of unruly twigs and withered leaves had now flourish into a bounty of lively red apples that heralded the Springtime. The richness of the sanctuary generated distant and painful memories in her head like the scenes of a tragic movie. She could still picture the remorseful look in the man’s eyes during his last breath. Her father, a man of ambitions and responsibilities, was not the father to throw her into the sky and tell her how much he loved

The leather furniture was cracked, and if the chairs were sat upon dust rose about one's thighs. The house seemed to be submerged in shadows as if it also refused to admit the light of the future. It had once been part of the most stylish street in town. Now it was surrounded with the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumps. It had obviously become an eyesore compared to once when it had been so beautiful.

wind. It was as if it was crying, almost howling for its voice to be

The atmosphere of this exposition is clearly foreboding: "the dark clouds, broken chimneys, unused street, solitary cat, and dead air" all prove ominous and reflect the sordid ruling mood. Failed culture and solitary of aimless women ("a cat moved itself in and out of railing") not knowing exactly what to do about their predicaments in which