Creative Writing: The Cold War

arm. I look down at a stream of blood shooting from my pale arm. The small room tilts as the moniter beeps in accompianment to my accelerating heartbeat.

“We need to clear this place of anyone or anything that can harm us, and when it’s been cleared out, then I’ll open the armory. Are we all clear?” Jim explains. All of us nod our heads in agreement. Jim gets beside the door and holds the handle. Then mouths “Three, Two, One!” We burst through the door and proceed to split off into different directions to clear the station. I head for some offices where it look like paperwork was handled. The room appeared empty but I wasn’t taking any chances. I looked under desks, behind cabinets and everywhere else in between. Once I clear the room I report back to Jim.

It’s hard not to hear the silence that fills the room. Sometimes I’m scared to break it because it has become so powerful. It is constantly reminding me how alone I am. I’ve lost track of the days, I no longer feel I am getting a meal once a day. The guard has stopped talking to me.

The back of the truck was dark, but the light from the warehouse peeked through the canvas around the bottom. I pulled it up a sliver, laying on my stomach so I could see what was going on. I could either see without being able to shoot, or I could stick my gun out of the crack and shoot blindly.

It was as if my head was going to explode; the immense pressure was almost too much to take. If I had had too many thoughts swimming around my head earlier, it was as if they had all transformed into shards of glass that now poked and prodded my brain. Suddenly, the silence was broken with a loud pop and the speaker system sparked to life with little crackling noises emanating from them. It studdard at first before it finally burst to life with a man’s deep, booming voice. “If I could please get your attention,” the bodiless voice states “we are about to begin.” “Yeah as if they didn’t already have our attention” I scoff as reposition myself to get a better look at the display around

I groaned and with pain, but I stood strong. He then grabbed another knife and he walked towards me, but a man appeared behind him, and put him to sleep.

P.s. Let’s be honest, if you survive I will still kill you...but the thought of your burning flesh in a freak gas leak it too much to refuse.”

Footsteps echo around the corner and down the passage. They’re coming. I distinctly feel every throbbing pulse as my heart beats feverishly, utter dread beginning to settle in my bones. My bare skin meets coolly with the white wall behind me as I press my back hard into it, wishing I could melt and disappear, evaporate from this endangered existence. The echoing steps grow louder with each passing second; I’m running out of time, out of options. I grip tightly around the syringe in my hand.

I know where they are, three doors down and on the left side. Now that I am closer I hear them mumbling, but they are too quiet to understand. Do they have a weapon? It’s doubtful. I take a step forward and as I walk through the doorway I hear a gun cock. I look to my left. He stands up straight and looks at me directly with the gun pointed at my chest. He intends to kill me, just like some failed experiment.

I look around and we are in a large white hallway, I feel a sharp object on my spine and a push, so I start

He wanted to see her tomorrow so much so that he had to choke the words down: Nothing, I’m not doing anything. He was doing something. He couldn’t forget… what was he doing? Work. Four seconds and a zipper to forget, another four seconds and pulling it up with a usually-satisfying hum to remember. Jack was still quiet, more distracted by what he could possibly say than thinking any more about the fact he was helping her get dressed and not the other way around.

The blood reddened the sky. Dragging the seriously injured body, Eric flees into the forest to escape from the enemy. As time goes on, he finally falls into a deep coma because of his lack of physical strength.

I sniffle and look towards the door. The door knob is twisting back and forth, but it isn’t opening thanks to my lock and the heavy chair I had put against the door. Chills run down my spine. I feel the goosebumps starting to gather up all over my body, and it feels like someone is sucking out all the happiness existing in this world. One thing is taking over me - fear.

The small voice still bothered me for about an hour. I kept tossing and turning, trying to get rid of it. It seems like that was useless. I sat up, ruffling my hair, pondering why the small voice is telling to run so badly? I threw the blanket and swung my legs over to the side, touching the dark oak floors. I’ll just waste my night reading. Maybe that will ease my mind. Close to grabbing my backpack, I was startled by a voice sounding like Takashi, screaming like a bloody murder scream. Immediately, I rush down the small hallway to their room, slamming their door wide open.

I look down, just in time to see another arrow shooting towards me. Constantine grabs onto my shoulder for one moment, and I pitch to the left, seeing only the ground, as we both fall off the stairs, hitting the ground below. My palms scrape against the ground, and my knee is unable to support my weight. Jarl comes down the stairs and heads straight for us.