Creative Writing : A Short Story

She paused for a moment, maybe someday I’ll get a personal parking spot, as she clicked her key fob and searched for her car. A beep and flash of lights lead her to the dark corner of the parking lot. Nervously, she opened the door of her car and looked around for danger before getting in. She threw her bags into the back seat and locked the door,

Meanwhile, the fire department was dispatched, and Grace´s truck was the first on scene. The chief started delegating jobs, and Grace was told to get ready to head in. She grabbed her Self

She pulls open the cool metal car door disturbing a layer of frost as she does so before climbing in and slamming the door shut behind her.

She nearly slide out of her seat when the car came to a stop, she lifted her head and looked at the male. “Worn someone when you are going to break the car so damn sudden.” She shouted at him. “I could have been killed.” She rolled her eyes. She knew she really wasn’t going to die but she could get badly hurt. “Why did you stop anyways we aren’t…” She turned her head to look out the window, she cocked her head to the side. She arched her brow a little. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” She spoke aloud so every in the car could hear

She fumbled in the handbag beside her. You drive, sad the flat voice, I’ll light your cigarette. Madge felt unreasonably shaky, but she was driving fast. She couldn’t take her eyes off the road She felt one of her own cigarettes touched to her lips.

Glancing at the man beside her, she saw him drifting in and out of sleep. She kept driving until she heard snores coming from beside her. Then she stopped the car and quietly pulled down the sun visor, where she kept her stiletto

Malik swung the door open and speed out of the station. He slammed the door on the way out making the glass shake. He let out a long shaky breath while he rummaged through his bag. He pulled out his phone and dialed Octavian.

“Daisy!” I yelled, “We have to get moving. The taxi is out front!.” A lyrical noise floated down from upstairs as Daisy descended the stairs.

She walked on the street for five minutes until she realized that a black car was following her. She doubled her speed, but not too much so it won't look like she was trying to run. Relief flooded through her when she saw the car speed up the street. She blamed herself for being paranoid.

A bang on the door shook the wood against her back, and she jumped away.

She rushed down her stairs and bursted through the door to signal that she heard them and she was coming to the car.

It was time to leave for the race. Once on the bus, I remember thinking, “What a crummy bus for star athletes. I hope it doesn’t break down on the way to our destination”. The bus reeked of sweat and mildew, with a hint of something sweet. There had to be three year old dust upon the seats and floor. The engine was screaming and whistling like a hatchling looking for its mother. Thick black smoke like smog came pouring out of the exhaust, but finally we were off.

Immediately opening the back door on the left side of the dilapidated olive-gray truck, I hopped out. I stood staring into the front passenger seat’s window, until eventually he glanced over and rolled the windows down.

Such loud, anxious conversations echoed off the walls of the bus. Bouncing around in the brown seats, trying to focus on something other than her shaky hands proved to be a difficult task. After what seemed like forever, the towering building came into view. How could brick and stone be so intimidating?

She dropped her books and seemed hesitant to pick them up like she was embarrassed she ever dropped them. A few second later she got them from the floor of the bus.