Harambe Creative Writing

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.

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The roar of his musket is audible, even from the safe sanctuary of my home. I jerk my head away from the window and cringe. I see a shadow fall down and land with a small thump on the pavement. I decide, wisely, not to watch anymore and walk away from the

I was a 5 star general back in my days, I remember it clear as day. It was the start of world mole 2, I was ready to go out for battle. I was lucky because from birth I was a cam-mole, so I can get past the snakes. The can run but we can hide! I was in charge of digging all the trenches. Because due to my cam-moleflage, the enemy would never see me all I had to do was slip in dig the trenches. Once their dug the other moles can crawl in. It's a hard job out there, if i'm being honest! I mean the ground moles can barely survive. Good thing that we have air moles, I don’t know if we would make it without them. The swoop in and save the day. But me I am just a simple digger, and great at it to!

Vana looked out the window incredulously. It was an odd experience, one of complete and utter blackness. There were, however, spots of light that she didn’t immediately realize were stars. It felt wrong; they didn’t twinkle. She felt a sense of security but also a little shaky discerning that. She’d always been skeptical about anything theological, but now that she’d seen more of the world than she’d ever seen before, she almost believed in an omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent god. She was all but paralyzed with awe.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m blaming you.”, Zelda whispered as they were doing a dramatic walk towards the flowers.

I dive to the ground and grab the gun I fired earlier. I run for cover behind a filing cabinet but I take a shot to my leg. I crawl behind the cabinet and look around the corner. I see his feet walking and fire. He falls down, giving me my chance. I limp over feeling the pain fuel the fire inside of me pushing me forward. He raises his hand up to fire but I step on it with my boots.

I walked over to the garage with tears filling my eyes unsure if I should do it. My feet felt like they were made of concrete, each step getting heavier and heavier. The thirty second walk felt like thirty years.Stepping foot into the cement-floored garage, I saw the little white box across the room on an old crooked wooden chair. I arrived to the designation that I wished was never in my navigation system, debating if I should just make a u-turn. I knew that it would only cause me more pain so I just stared at the box. As I brushed my hand on top of the bumpy box, I hoped that nothing would be in there. I kept wishing it would all be a joke. When I lifted the cover, a sharp pain stabbed my heart. “If only it was a joke”, I thought to myself as the familiar taste of salt burnt my tongue.

The first time I saw her she was perched on my chair at New Westview High in the English 11 classroom and was twirling a luxurious pair of earbuds around her elegant and slender fingers wrapping them around like whips. Lethal. Pestilent. Yet still there was something about her that was bewitching. She screamed anguished closures and shredded promises. Back then I just had a feeling. One of those nauseating, petrifying feelings but almost addictive when I went near her. She had these black and red beats that were colossal compared to her meagre face but she didn't seem to mind. They kept slipping off her sleek, smooth hair. Why would she have earbuds and headphones? Like what an idiot. Her fingers and feet tapped out the rhythm on the floor.

Angelo followed Sylvia’s line of sight. “Hello, Mr. Caito. I didn’t notice you were there.”

This act of musical immaturity delivers nothing more than a raucous noise to my ears and a feeling of disenchantment towards the delinquent. In that moment, the harmonious vibrations shaking my rib cage come to a screeching halt. The band turns and stares at the perpetrator while I joyously imagine the act heaving my instrument at his/her face. Not only have they managed to waste the teacher’s time, this obtuse swine has disturbed my own vibe within a piece of music. The ensemble decays into a flock of humdrum plebeians holding instruments, and the artistic aspect of “band” disappears. In my head, I try to relieve the wound by flinging batons at their head. The perpetrator has relinquished any chance of appearing human through my eyes, for they now know my number one pet peeve: when one cracks or blips the beginning of a note during band rehearsal.

It wasn’t until 10:00 am that my dad woke up. The ride to Caribou, Maine was approximately 6 and a half hours, so by the time we got settled at the campground, it would be 5:30 pm. I begged him to get ready and start driving as fast as he could. He mumbled a few words, and used a water bottle to simulate a faucet to brush his teeth. Instead of changing, he straightened his Guns and Roses t-shirt and proceeded to the steering wheel. The old camper drove out of the parking lot and onto the highway. As my Dad drove, I caught up on my sleep.

“Liam Young! You are under arrest! Freeze!” Their voices screamed after me as I ran blindly down the street. I glanced down at the tiny clear zip-lock bag filled with the reason why I was involved in this great escape. I smothered it in a tight grasp. I had to get rid of it some how. I shoved it in my mouth and swallowed. It burned and cut my already dry throat as it pushed its way into my stomach. My eyes burned and tears drenched my cheeks. I turned the corner. I had to hide, but where? I ran down the empty dark alleyway. The dumpster. No, that would be the first thing they checked. The fire escape. Yes. I climbed up the unending mountain of stairs. I heard the determined footsteps below and shouts. Their flashlights beamed up. I jerked downward

Makenzie and I have been waiting for this forever. Makenzie and I are at the fair in Lake City. We are very excited and scared at the same time. “I’m scared to do this” I said. “Me too,’’ Makenzie said. We were going to ride the elephant today.

To my surprise, he found even more buttons to push. Now my whole body is on fire. Lasers beams are emitting from my eyeballs. I look at him and he’s standing there, swinging his fist around like he’s winding then up or something. So I put both my hands behind my back and start walking