Creative Writing: A False Game

Suddenly he felt the ground shake and a gust of wind come from the huge gaping doors of the maze along with the loud, rumbling sound of what sounded like a horn. He noticed that the opening to the maze was getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until it was closed. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

“Anything that can help us find out who did this.” I said, examining the crime scene. I walked towards what used to be the glass case that held the crown, but was now a useless, shattered cube.

The next morning (Y/N) slowly woke up, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. She blinked a couple of times before looking around the room. She went to go get up before doing a double take, her eyes widening. Sitting in random places in her room were all of the characters from The Outsiders, at least all of the characters from Darry's gang. She tried not to start freakout, looking at everyone. They were just like she had imagined them.

The bar had an upbeat vibe to it. It wasn’t the high end bar where you could pay to get your ass kissed and your feet rubbed, but at least you didn’t have to worry about walking outside and getting robbed or stabbed on your way home. It was a fairly unremarkable place, a plain black building, a neon sign outside the only hint to the place being able to serve alcohol. Most meandered around, drinking and talking, with the occasional dance when a rather catchy song found it’s way onto the less than stellar sound system.

I hunkered down behind the massive boulder and managed to wedge myself between it and another stone and I kicked out. It didn’t budge. I shoved again, harder, but it wouldn’t give an inch. My only option was to use

Swoosh, the puck went past James as the opposing team tried to clear it. I, the team captain and role model on ice, backpedaled and skated as hard as I could, to try and retrieve it so we could continue with our power play. My team’s biggest rival, the Knights and their league leading scorer, Brian Daley - who I am tied with him for the league scoring title coming into today were tied for first in the league. Whoever won tonight’s match would be the first seed in the playoffs, facing off against the easy Jets. Back to the game now, oh, why can't James do anything right? In my eyes, it was a mistake that could cost us a goal. It's only the first minutes of the game and he already cost us a scoring opportunity. Does he want to win or not? Does

I hail from a fairly modest household. And yet, there I was, concept of clothes entirely forgotten, thundering down the crumbling cement stairs of my aunt’s house, ten years ago. My dashing escapade came to a screeching halt when I nearly collided into my cousin’s best friend. The pitter patter of my feet on the burning asphalt stopped, and everything around us slowed down. A fly buzzed softly as both our eyes bugged out in sheer horror of Forbidden Knowledge. The impending fall of the drop of ice cream from the cone he was clutching measured time agonizingly. The instant it hit the floor, I took off in the opposite direction. I had originally been fleeing the terrifyingly large, 2 inch long lizard that was lazily eyeballing me in the shower,

The whole room was intrusive: cold marble floors against his bare feet, columns reaching to nowhere, everything huge and expansive but also small and constricting at the same time, like the room couldn't decide whether it wanted Sutekh to float away into the expansiveness or be flattened to nothingness. He'd take the floating; away from those overwhelming senses, and up to the beautiful night sky that hovered above. Indeed, there was no ceiling: just expansive darkness and its pinholes.

“Meet me at the apartment from this morning at five am tomorrow.” I released my hold. As I made my way through the living room I heard the news anchor.

Redish-brown hair with a slightly elevated mohawk, big eyes, brave heart, and a crazy personality. Ryder lived in a farmhouse with his mother and father on a never ending field. A distant whisper was heard about a mythical witch who was known to be extremely dangerous. When Ryder’s parents first heard of the witch, they were smart enough to ask questions and investigate about her in order to keep their family safe. Despite the time it took for them to find out, the witch’s secret was all they needed. The fields produced and supplied her with her magic. The witch was nothing without the ground, because it was nature who gave her powers. She was known to be wicked and unpredictable to those who upset her. During the time Ryder was at a young

 School ended an hour ago and I am still on the bus texting my friends. "Come over at 4:45. We are going to play a game, bring flashlights"-Jaemin. When I finally get home I go straight to my room and grab all my flashlights and my watch. A few minutes later Oscar shows up and Eliot got a ride with Rob. That leaves Leyton and John, they are always late. 4:46 and Leyton gave John a ride so then we get inside and go to the kitchen and make some popcorn. When I walked in and I hear the TV on. I wonder who turned it on and thought that something was recording and I turned it off.

“Need you to come baby. Not going to last, you feel too damn good and it’s been way fucking too long.”

As he finished the soup, Mr. Jones dumped out the food that he didn’t eat and took the can, placed it into his bag and walked out the door. The yard was a few miles walk, but he and everyone else needed the money so no one minded. The soup cans, bottles, papers and boxes were all recyclable. But what did that matter when the scrapyard would take them off your hands for 20 cents a can? Mr. Jones always had the mindset of money being a priority and besides, one cared about the environment anyway right? This was about today. Mr. Jones wouldn’t live long enough to see nature burn, so why would it matter to him anyways? Men with a mindset like his were successful. Maybe not popular among the common folk, but when you’re at the top, the smaller peasants