Creative Story : A Short Story

“Oh Dang! He said under his breath. The church is on fire! “Let's go see what the deal is.”

Aiko was slumped forward over the table. The private dining hall was perfect, quiet and peaceful.

As Thanksgiving was coming to a close. Two figures left a warm, cozy house. The aroma of many foods drafted out the door before it slammed shut. The figures was a boy and a girl both closely related but not so. The girl had blue eyes and blonde hair with pale skin while the boy had hazel eyes and brown hair and tan skin.

Once upon a time, long ago, there was a boy named Jack. He lived with his mother on an old farm and was extremely poor.

2 pip I took a step back. I even let you move in here. I'm not being irrational! - I thought...

One day, on a nice and sunny day, there was a family driving in their car to there grandmother’s house. They were happy and nothing was stopping them, until something did. They were jamming out to Taylor swifts newest songs and out of no where, came a truck. The father didn't have time to react so they collided. When they collided a wave of dark matter hit the daughter, who was the only survivor of the crash. The daughter’s name was Alex Smoak.

Scampering across the desert floor, a small chubby gila monster named Terrance, Terri for short, sneaks away from his burrow. After several paces the small rock cave looks as miniscule as an ant. Time to adventure. Terri closes his eyes as a wave of heat rushes over his body making him feel sunkist and reborn. “Ah!” he says with joy. Terri loves the sun. Most lizards his age like to stay in their burrows and only awake from their slumber for a meal, but not Terri. Looking around he finds a pile of dirt and flexes his chest with excitement. Using his stubby back legs he begins to kick and cover himself in the substance. swimming in mounds of dirt, he exclaims “dirt, I love you”. You are thin and unlimited and you fly with the birds on a windy day. You're cool to the touch under the moon, but in the day you are the perfect for warmth. You shall be my friend! Dirt friend!” He wiggles around to find the perfect snuggly spot, hearing a soft “ssssssss” noise as the dirt slides off of his scales. The sun begins to melt from the sky, dripping soft yellows and pinks and he watched in awe. All of the sudden, a thunderous voice shook the earth.

Coolness, night sky, outside, fireflies, moonlight, chasing and playing tag with her sister, up until her sister poofed into dust, still hearing laughter as everything seemed to be watered down and dripping. The fireflies seeped into goo, the ground was shaking, the night sky’s stars were falling like raindrops, even the bits and chunks of the sky. She panicked, looking around, scared and confused. She kept hearing laughter, until everything was silent, until everything wasn’t moving, until everything was gone. She stopped, heard her sister’s voice calling her name, so she turned around to see her sister, only it wasn’t her at all. Her sister’s eyes were just black holes, her teeth looking jagged, her hair in a messy braid.

His hands got sweaty grasping the bomb in his hand, if only he had time. Mathu ran towards the ocean, barely throwing the bomb into the sea before it exploded. He said, “Why did I just make that simple mistake cutting of the red wire and now I'm going to get fired s***.” While he returned to the bomb squad department, he got called into the manager's office, knowing this was the end of his career. There was a significant SLAM on the desk as he opened the door.

John Logan breathed a stream of hot air into his cupped hands, hoping to warm them up against the cold mid-morning air. From his mouth poured a waterfall of steam, visible and telling of the temperature. If there was anything that John Logan hated more than having to deal with a homicide is doing it on a cold, winters morning.

He was riddled with pain had never felt before as his mother carried his limp burning body through the double doors after the nurse. His body was on fire, his stomach was being twisted in knots. He was breathing, but it was shallow and noisy. Sweat beaded from his forehead, drenching him as his pajamas stuck to his body. He felt himself being placed roughly onto a firm surface, he could smell fresh sheets and disinfectant. An unknown man asked, “How long?” another more familiar one said, “A few days, but in the last two hours… oh my god, he just passed out and started shaking.” He couldn’t understand. Another voice, female, spouted a string of what sounded like gibberish, and suddenly something being wrapped around his left arm and his clothes were being cut away. “Oh no, not my pjs, mums going to kill you.” He thought to himself. His chest bare, a cold object was pressed against it in different places in turn. His head was violently jerked backward and his jaw pushed forward. It hurt. He tried to lift his arms to push them away but there was no hope. His mouth fell open as he was dragged upwards. A soft object was shoved under his back so that his head lulled backward. A metal object was thrust into his mouth and a tube passed over it into his airways. He so badly wanted to gag on it. “What the hell are they doing? I can’t breathe!” he thought of saying but for some reason he no longer had the ability to speak.

Writing anything down is almost always a risk because readers love to analyze. So I can write this for no other reason than to share the story and people will go on about what my true intent is. I suppose it would be best if I just flat out told you right here so that there was no confusion or gossip or whatever else. But here’s the thing: what I say doesn’t actually matter. Readers should make inferences, but where they go wrong is pointing to me. Because you know why they say “Don’t kill the messenger.” I am just a messenger here serving my civic duty. Analyze at your own risk. The youngest character in this story may be criticized by many as rude, but you must understand that prior to her sister’s home-coming, she spent her entire life attempting to live up to impossible-to-meet expectations set by her perfect older sister. Before you dismiss her, empathize with those years of suffering. Maybe I am biased, but that is not relevant to this discussion.

One hot summer day, Danica, a young penguin girl from Serbia and her best friend, Andrea, penguin from Spain got on a bus to go to a brand new amusement park.

The trees zoomed past him in a blur, as he ran with everything he had. Each foot fall echoed with the beat of his heart. His lungs burned with the need of air, but he knew that their was no hope for rest. If he stopped or even slowed down, they would catch him. And he knew what would happen if they caught him. They were hunting him and in this forest there was no escape.

I call myself the lost kid, but everyone else seems to think i'm normal, and happy. As I grow older, I seem to understand the world a lot better; and as I did I just wanted to run away from it. I always thought maybe just running away from life, would heal me; but it didn't. Everyone has a weakness or something that makes them break. Which above all mine is love and the truth. Truth; every day I seem to understand how the world works, and I get to know myself better and better. Then love; because I know it will never work for me.