Creative Writing: Andrew Anderson

Pulling into the parking lot at the cleaners, he saw the closed sign in the window, but Rosy had not turned off the lights in the store. Rushing to the front Andrew pounded on the door. Looking up from the pile of papers she was separating, Rosy recognized Andrew, since his family had been her customer for years. Unlocking the front door, she said, “I called the police and told them someone took Mrs. Barnes.”

Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.

“How sad, if he’d known his home was safe the outcome would have been different. What happened to Mr. Hampton after that?”

“Andrew can I meet with you for a second outside? I know you’re on your way to work but I need to talk to you about something,” asked Jerald.

I hobble up to my husband’s grave, last time I was here, I could barely see the headstone through the crowd of people I didn’t know. I left the funeral early, it was too much for me to handle. The cold air nipped at my boney hands, and the tip of my nose. I can barely make it through the snow without tripping. It is worth it just to talk to him. The smell of death reaches my nose before I make it over the tiny hill, his grave is just at the top. I stumble over a tree root covered by snow, and I catch myself just in time with my nobby wooden cane.

They had landed in a cotton field. In the distance was a farmhouse. Dogs were barking, they always did. Staying under the cover of the field, they waited. The dogs kept barking. The squad wasn’t sure if they had picked up on their

“He is out of town and you will speak to me.” She said in a firm voice, not expecting a protest about the matter. The two men shrank ten feet under her authority and practically cowered in the corner. They held up a parchment with a portrait of Evangeline and Trevor on it.

After running from the P.M.C.C. for hours on end Collin finally caught his breath and began to regroup. He ventured into an abandoned Shop-Rite scavenging for food. Something he had not had since the hydrogen bomb went off two days ago. Nothing much was left due to every store being ransacked as soon as America went into fallout. After some searching, Collin fortunately found canned tomato soup and some beef jerky. As he was about to eat he heard a loud clamor a couple aisles over. He slowly made his way and peered to see what or who made the noise. To his relief it was only another man, around the same age as he.

“Thank you, Jim, for saving me and getting my bag. You’re a fine young man. But please, call me Klaus, all my friends do.” Klaus said still smiling and before I knew it a smile spread across my lips. Even though I didn’t need his reassurance of who I was it was nice to have his approval and be considered for his companionship. He seemed like the kind of man whose approval you needed to feel accomplished in life.

“I don’t have a nephew named Jacob. I don’t have a nephew at all,” Viviana said. “Please, Angela, don’t go back into that house. Something is very much awake inside and likes to play games. Your life is in danger.”

I pulled the arrow back and was aiming for the bushy tailed animal clinging to the base of the oak tree. One eye closed to make sure my aim was right. I let go and was thinking I would never hit it. The arrow flew across the yard and slashed the squirrel in the side. I freaked.

The way he smiled made me think of how he used to smile at me on the school bus. When he opened his car door, he said “The room is upstairs. Are you ready?” “Yes, I answered anxiously, as I opened my door and grabbed my purse. As we walked up the stairs,

The warm blood runs over my fingers as I grasp his throat, digging my fingers into the deep, seemingly endless wound where my blade had danced only but a minute ago. His body is convulsing slowing coming to a halt by the second as I look into his eyes while watching the life drain from from them and into my soul. I bet my dad would be proud now, as he would always look into my eyes with the look that he would have his hands wrapped around my throat, dangling my body in the air until I pass out. Furthermore, I would wake up sore and bloody, however, I gift them death. Nonetheless, this would end their suffering which I never received.

“Thank you so much. And yes I do.” As much as I wanted to celebrate my birthday and devour that cake, I still had the urge to figure out who sent me those notes.

“Yeah, I do..” I reply, shaking my head to get out of my trance. He follows me into the kitchen, and, seeing the state that it is in, offers to help me get ready. “It’s a good thing I got here first. I don’t think that Michael Miller would appreciate this…” he remarks as he is chopping up a tomato for the salad. “That guy is a total corporate pushover” he continues, his chopping getting a little bit more intense.