Creative Writing: Otis Killings

The stones looked out of place and uneven as Edward wandered the street. He hold one hand on the wall as he walked. One time he almost slipped, but he steadied himself on a railing. It almost made him vomit. The drunkenness tore him apart every day, but he could not stop it. Joy appeared in the ale he drank, and when the glass was dry, the sadness hurt again. He had tried to forget it for years, but the memory always came back. Edward remembered himself standing in the chaos trying to help a cause he did not remember. The entire memory bore violence, blood and a death in the family. That day was a turn of events for him. He remember him holding a rifle and shooting warning shots in the air. Edward was sixteen, a man grown, with start of a beard

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.

A police report was released over the death of Mark Fischbach. His brother, Sean Fischbach, was killed a few weeks ago being shot it the back. Mark wrote a note shortly before his death. The note read:

graveyard. The leaves on the trees swayed back and forth with a soft moan of the

“Looks like her,” the Fat Cop confirms “But, she is dead. She drank too much at the general’s birthday party, and fell into the swimming pool. It was dark. She is dead. Drowned. I forgot to write a report. But, her body disappeared. Federal police took the body., Nothing we can do officially. We are looking for it.”

LUKE is propped up against an imaginary wall with his feet lying out. He has a somewhat bewildered look on his face and his eyes are darting back and forth

Smiley looked a little hesitant at first. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a bomb inside. On first sight, my antennas went sky high. I got the feeling the good-for-nothing was up to no good. I didn’t want to go around in circles with him, so, I let him go play in traffic before things went south.”

I was taken up, put in a chair at the side, and told to keep my mouth shut by the teacher, who

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.

While driving to the restaurant, Louise thought about Justin’s sudden interest in his grandfathers and wondered why he questioned her, “He will be okay.”

It’s 4:50 pm, Patrick Maloney is getting home from an exhausting day at work. Inside the home is Mary Maloney, Patrick’s wife. Mary, excited, greets her husband with a kiss and hangs up his coat. It seems like a normal Thursday night, but Patrick seems off, and Mary notices it. As Patrick drank his drink down in one gulp, Mary knew this was no ordinary Thursday night. Patrick sits her down and is straight forward with her, “I want to leave you” he said. He continues with the details as Mary sits there horrified.

The man was begging for his life as the murderer, a man about six feet four inches and probably two hundred fifty pounds, with one arm picked the other man up, a skinny man around 5'6 and 100 pounds max who was clearly starving screamed "I'll give it back! I will I will!". The larger man said "It is to late for that now." and then John woke up.

While this was all happening Wilbert had notice that he need to stop this. David had tried to open the door to let Hannah out. Hannah was out and all three of them tried to call 911, but they had to go outside to call in order to get service. Both Hannah and Abigail go outside and David stays inside in case of anything. Wilbert was on his way to their house. He went through the backyard and he saw Hannah. Abigail was out there yet because she was pregnant and she was slower. Wilbert had stabbed Hannah to death and she had died. He went to the living room which was where David was. Wilbert went behind his back and hit him with a hammer that was lying on the table. Abigail at this point was hiding in the bathroom hoping that wilbert won't find

The heavy machine gun roared, lighting up the shop with giant flashes of flame and light as the figure flew backwards, bullets tearing through flesh and bone. Mark stopped firing and peered through the gun smoke at the figure. As it cleared his eyes widened and he swore before pulling the trigger and sending more rounds into the man as he had started to rise up. Gun roaring Mark saw the man’s flesh being torn away as the second figure sat up into the hail of gunfire. A bullet clipped through its skull, spraying blood into the air and the figure slumped back to the floor. Mark stopped firing, and paused as the man, body torn apart by the bullets, continued to move, pulling himself toward Mark with its shattered arms and leaving a trail of blood and gore in its

his body remains uneasy as she doesn’t loosen her grasp, eyes flickering from it to her. something’s not right maybe she’s EXPECTING to be threatened. waiting for a villain to come and harass her. he wants to ask, but he recalls her previous statement. an uneasy breath is drawn in, feet carrying backward another step. “ it makes my anxiety way worse if you’re actually curious. ” that’s the truth. the agitation melting off of the girl has his heart soaring. it isn’t fear it’s distress. the unknown never treated him kindly. “ late night walks are more of a compensation for … well, everything else that comes with it and sucks. ” confidence in his plot brims as he wipes sweaty palms