Creative Writing: Paranoia

For many writing comes naturally, for myself it is sometimes a struggle. Back in high school I could sum up my view of writing with two words, a battle. I avoided writing like it was the plague, this continued through my first few years of college right after high school. I have since evolved from being apprehensive from my irrational fears that kept me from writing, and now am able to pick up a pad and pencil and enjoy my time writing.

Living with what I've done has never been harder, all the battles I've fought combined couldn't compare. I thought sleeping was difficult before but nothing can come close to this gloomy day. I lay next to my sleeping wife, mouth open slightly agape like a baby, as I stare at the ceiling seeing only red on my plain white walls. Seeing only red on my hands, the ones that once picked Banquo up in battle, and the same ones who will bury him today. I hear the echoes of curious voices questing why he is gone, questioning me...

Tori Declan came into my office for an appointment for the first time on the 22nd of March. She is 26 years old, has dark brown hair, and big blue eyes. Tori has a curvy physique, but she doesn’t wear fitting clothes. Tori sat down and told me the basics. I asked her about her family and she said she only has a close relationship with her brother; her mom died and she found her dad suspicious.

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.

The feeling of pride had slowly drained from my body and left a terrible sense of fear in it’s hollow shell; with the only way to retrieve that pride was to put parliament in their place and win the war.For three years now the revolution had been going on. In the prime of the war the soldiers were nothing but chirpy, and hopeful, but numerous defeats had foiled any sign of that hope we once had. My nine month enlistment in the army was almost up. I missed my family dearly and was very concerned about my aging mother, however I had decided to re-enlist because I wanted my family to live in a free country, even if I died trying, The army needed more men in good health and able to fight and death sounded much more preferable than living the rest

I stiffened in horror, I felt the blood in my body just pause out of sheer terror of what was coming. I could hear my beating heart in my ears when the soldiers looked up as well, it almost seemed in slow motion when the bounty hunter lifted his gun. And shot the very branch I was standing on down, I was lucky to not have been hit with the bullet. But I was very, very unlucky getting caught. I felt the cold, harsh grasp of the metal shackles hug my wrists. The warm hunter's hand pressed on my small back, and I was forced forward. The other hand had hold of the shackle's chain. Everything I promised... Everything I hoped for, I felt it melt away into all but a sad dream as I was pushed the other way. I knew what was coming; a welcome back "home"... for

Soon enough my nerves got the best of me, my fingers started to trace over my shorts and my long chestnut brown hair was occasionally twiddled with. I slung my bag over my shoulder and my cleats hit the hard ground. We gathered in two perfectly straight lines and followed the captains to the nicely cut green. I could smell the victory into what I had worked so hard for, yet the stress that led up to this made me believe otherwise.

This morning was the first time in my life that I couldn’t shake my nightmares with a bit of fresh air. I tried telling myself that the thrill of soldiering was wearing off, and the unpleasant memories of combat were surfacing, but it didn’t calm me. Lying in bed, I looked at the ceiling and wanted to get high. I wanted to drink. I felt if I downed enough beer, I could obliterate the darkness of my combat experience. As I slid out of bed, I began to sweat. Next I had the chills. I told myself that I better to get it together before my Aunt Claudia and Uncle Galway visited today.

Then some of people noticed a new guest, dress as a clothes of the Red Death. Everyone was freaking out because of him. When Prince Prospero saw this guy, he became angry and asked courtiers to seize him and unmask him. But no one have the courage to do it, including Prospero himself. The Red Death walked through the rooms, heading toward the black room. Prospero chased him with taking his dagger. Prospero reached the edge of the dark room, the Red Death suddenly turned to face him, and Prospero fell on the ground and dead. "Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revelers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony

One day, we were at the field since we had a game against the Psyclones and Emmie was up to bat and Carlie was playing 2nd base without a face mask on. Emmie swing and hit the ball to Carlie, but first of all she was not watching and Emmie drilled it and it………. Hit her face ….. And multiple people in the crowd were screaming “

A terrifying destruction runs through your veins. You want to kill every person out here, your lungs burn with hatred and your eyes show no mercy when you tear threw skin as if it was paper. Your mother used to kiss you like you were a precious thing. You aren’t; you are a bomb waiting to explode. You want to drive these people to ruins because that is what they left in your chest. You’re only 18 and you’ve never craved death this way.

Flashes filled my mind as the memories of the war welled up in my head, creating a spinning pool of grief and survivor's guilt. I could not forget the faces of my companions crying out for help, hoping to be saved by someone, anyone.

The howling of the wind brought my eyes to open. Where was I? Focusing in the dark of night, confusion washed over me as I came to realize I was in the desert. Distant landscapes of dry and worn rock surrounded me, and beneath my bare feet I felt the gritty sand caught between my toes. I was surrounded by those rocky hills and yet as I scanned the desolate desert it seemed never ending. The irony of the nighttime desert suddenly set into my body; that ghastly wind moving right through me and chilling my bones to that of splintering ice. The need to move started me forward though, and I felt a sharp ache all over, my body trying to fight against change. Was I lost? My heart began pounding fast in my chest, the blood pumping through my veins

Winston opened his eyes confused by his surroundings, he began to look left and right trying to figure out where exactly he was. “Hello,” said a strange voice and when he locked onto what exactly was talking he was startled. “I am Aslan, the creator and the one true king of the world of Narnia, and generally a figure of all that is good,” the giant lion began to say, “you have been brought to our camp and saved from the evil party of Big Brother.” Winston did not know of this place called Narnia, but the more the great lion talked the more safe and secure he felt, so he figured it must not be such a bad place. “Why did you save me?” Winston said almost in a shaky voice. “You are the key to the downfall of Big Brother and the inner party.” Aslan replied.

Dark black surroundings around me. Blindness is a natural occurrence after the sun descends. Senses are heightened which sparks the imagination to soar. A moment of time when things of legend becomes a reality and self-doubt are unveiled. In the darkness the line between fact and fiction blur. Sounds, fears, and intuition are the elements that rule when light does not exist.