How To Write A Short Story: Timmy's Mirror

The grasp on the girl’s face grew unbearable, and with teary eyes, her mouth was popped open, the feel of the glass container neck spreading chills throughout her. Burning clear

Meanwhile Jessica was trying to find another way out of the building. She could see an opening in the window, so she sprinted over there and opened it fully. She stepped on the edge of it shaking. She could see to the left of her

His wife stepped forward with their plates, setting them down without a word. Anything could set him of, and the result would be less than pleasant. They ate in silence, which hung heavily in the air. The boy reached out for his glass, and it tumbled over itself. Each shard seemed to fly on it’s own accord, desperate to escape the

For Timmy his at bat in the last inning in the baseball game was the definition of Confidence. As Timmy walked up to the batter’s box his legs started to shake and his hands got clammy. His heart began to pound. But he wanted to hit in the game winning run. He didn’t want to be the player to get the last out in the district championship. So as Timmy stepped in the batter’s box he heard his dad who never misses a game cheering for him and his team rooting him on. But now when Timmy stepped in the box he had an extra hop in his step he was confident now. As the pitcher pitch the crowd was silent it was a battle between the pitcher and him. When Timmy hit a shot in the gap to score the winning run the crowd roared and his teammates ran on the

Slowly she began to back away toward back door; she pressed her back against the fly screen and wrapped her hand around the door handle. Footsteps made their way toward their door and a fist banged against the wood, the door ricocheting off the fist and wiggling. Her mother then gasped and slowly walked to the door, wrapping her hand around her belly she opened the door and Djinda darted to hide in the kitchen.

“The violence of the crash, the noise, the small table overturning, helped bring her out of he shock. She came out slowly, feeling cold and surprised, and she stood for a while blinking at the body, still holding the ridiculous piece of meat tight

An object whistled close to my ears and exploded, glass against metal. A siren wailed. I heard feet-heard,

“ The phone was ringing in the kitchen, and she came running in to answer it, and she slipped. She hit her head

and it closed softly behind me, the blades snick-ing back into their places and the alarm re-engaging behind my back. I looked around, keeping perfectly still with my body pressed into the shadows against the door, my eyes narrowed and my breath coming and going silently through my mouth. The room was bare except for a white block about the size of a

Three boisterous knocks echoed against the walls of my cell as my security guard proceeded to let himself in. The tight grip of the guards hands on my bare skin sent blood pulsating up my entire arm as we made our way down the musty, gray corridor to the television

A trickle of fear had her lying motionless with her eyes closed, straining to hear the slightest noise. A deep sigh of regret and the pressure of a body by her side made her acutely aware that she wasn’t alone.

For my final project, I have decided to write a short story. First let me introduce charachters in this story;

Timmy is a young boy who has been possessed by a demon. His claim to fame is he locks his victims in his cellar. So far he has captured 5 people but nobody expects it’s him because he is only a small child. His first victim was a man who was floating down on a parachute. Where he landed was in a fountain across the bridge behind his house. The skydiver ran right into the statue in the center of the fountain which knocked him out. Timmy noticing it out of the back window so he grabbed his wagon and began to walk towards the man. Timmy paused for a second then he remembered he wouldn’t be caught because his parents were at work. So he proceeded to put the man in his wagon. While walking towards his house a small plastic card fell out of his pocket, it was his I.D. His name was Walter E. White.

She yelled and yelled until her throat grew ragged and sore. As it kept ascending upwards a massive red wall came into focus. The realization of her situation hit her, she was going to crash.

The heavy clear doors slammed open one by one; big bright lights pierced my eyes from above with little images of ceiling tiles surrounding me. I could barely focus on the objects let alone recognize them. People in navy blue uniforms huddled around me appearing to be in a hurry based on their bright red faces and the drops of sweat that were slowly dripping down their flushed skin. The drips of perspiration slowly puddled on my cold, dry skin. When all of a sudden the commotion around me came to an abrupt halt. Without warning, I blinked and found myself once again starring at the ceiling. Except this time my vantage point was much clearer and I saw my battered reflection of my broken and beaten down body. In the distance I could faintly