Leah: A Short Story Essay

Trista had always been a normal kid except for her stories. It wasn't that they were disturbing or horrific, they were just unusual. Sometimes they seemed exactly like the kind of thing you'd expect from a kid, but other times, I'd have to look at her and wonder how she came up with such things. It started when she was four, shortly after our dad split, leaving the two of us on our own.

“It was my fault. I could've given him my food. He didn't have to die. I failed him,” I choked out, “I was fine, strong, I wasn't close to starved, and neither were the kids. You burn through your rations with your work in the fields, but I didn't need to eat. I could've saved him.” The wind faltered in our direction for a instant, causing smoke to blow my way and burn my eyes. It smelled strange, like the mountains.

The tickling sensation of heat bathing his face forced him to slowly open his eyes. The sun’s golden rays stunned him blurring his vision as he quickly turned away. As his eyes adjusted, he was surprised to find the absence of his father. His heart started to pound and all the confidence and security that he had built up melted in the space of a few seconds. He jumped up flinging his sleeping bag on to the ground and looked around taking note of his surroundings. To him, it felt as if the trees were suddenly sent out to attack him like stealthy assassins gaining on him as they moved side to side from the winds steady breeze. The faint noise of bugs and animals chattering sounded like the grunt of a predator before it hunts its prey. A colossal cloud

It is pretty strange when Tretheway has not been ridden out the storm at that time, yet her ability to extend that empathy to the local residents is undeniable. Thetheway refacts all the deaths and “bodies washed away” (65) through the lens of witnesses – her family and the whole community – with emotional depth and

One night, thoroughly past her bedtime, Georgiana crept stealthily downstairs to sneak a bite of pie, even though her mother would never approve. She immediately realized a heavy drape of desolation. The only noise was her heart beating to the rapid rhythm of the twitching fan. Georgiana thought that no one would be awake at one in the morning. She slipped through the doorway into the kitchen. For an instant, her heart stopped. A dreadful sight stood in her way. An innocent and isolated individual lay with his hand grasping for life, but it was already over. Taking a step back, she

The thundering sound of hooves echoes in my ears as my horse comes barreling down the hill toward me. My whistle had caused him to go crashing through the tall grass and Queen Ann’s Lace in search of me once again. Coming to a sliding stop in front of me, I gently stroke his muzzle. Letting my hands glide over his fuzzy neck and into his jet black mane, I grab ahold and throw myself onto his strong back. We go running through the pasture, scattering wild rabbits and sending sparrows a flight. I watch them fly overhead, their brown wings leading them to rest in the big oak tree that my horse and I come to a halt underneath.

The night before had brought a starless night with rain, but daybreak cracked through on a promising Saturday morning. The sky awoke with clouds dissipating. Hues of indigo beckoned the light between the black sky and the blue. Fog clung to the rolling hills while the varnished sun lit up the fields. In the distance, a faint sound rumbled over the quiet wisps still hanging in the air.

A scream bubbled up inside her as strong hand grasped her mouth, muffling any chance for help. His hot breath tickled her cheek as they disappeared into the woods just outside of town. Her eyes scanned in every direction, trying to find an escape, but his large body was all around her, enveloping her like the fog that was rolling in in an ungodly manner. It blanketed the forest like a mother tucking her children in at night. The little life that Evangeline lived flashed before her eyes, most of it spent with Lila. Without much hope of survival left, she thought of the only thing she could do. A swift kick to the shin sent him hobbling in the opposite direction after dropping Evangeline to the ground. She sat in a heap covered in mud and wet leaves, staring up at her attacker who was hopping on one leg favoring his injured

"Phil, can you please get off the couch and continue cleaning the kitchen?" Dan walked towards the television with a broom in his right hand and turned off the anime Phil was binge watching. "Jess is almost home and I don't want her walking into a pig sty!"

A painful groan sounded from somewhere unseen in the starlight, and I cautiously approached the trees to my left. I then remembered there had been a sharp crack, like a branch breaking in a spring storm. Emma was lying on the ground on top of what used to be a low wooden fence, the blackened soles of her feet facing me. The first thing that came to mind in that moment was that she had the dirtiest feet I had ever seen, and for some reason this bothered me more than the fact that she had broken what was probably national property. She grasped my sweaty palms in hers and heaved herself up, remarkable unscathed from her tumble. I suppose she was hurting a lot more than she could currently process. The pieces of fence, slick with humidity, lay splintered at our feet. Paler wood that had been freshly exposed with the break, stared at us accusingly. Without a word we continued onto the path that cut through to her

Robberies’ in the villages began to take place nine out of ten nothings taken the shops moreover, destroyed, merchandise smashed and scatter, windows broken, shelving ripped to pieces. If by chance the owner was there his body mutilated, slashed to pieces. In some cases, the body hung on the wall like a trophy. Always the same story three men on black horses, all dressed in black, wearing black capes with hoods, their faces covered and black gloves, shoving people aside, never saying a word, as abruptly they appear they disappear. Farms raided their homes burned and again, the stories were always the same, describing the same three men, black horses. The three men and their horses would just vanish in a cloud of dust.

I finally fell asleep in my cavern, all alone I reflected on how exhausted I was after a long day of watching over my sheep. I had an exceptional dinner before I went to bed, filled with bread and wine. Then, during the night I swore that I had heard some noises, but I overlooked it.

Aviane. Leah Martin Strauss somberly fingered the blister of pink pills from it’s nondescript white and pink wrapper with a resigned sigh. For a soon to be sixteen year old young girl, getting on birth control for the first time is usually an exciting, transformative occasion but Leah had a far more pessimistic outlook: She might just need it to protect herself. She gingerly peeled the small pill out of the blister and ingested it; just one week from that day, she could very well be happy to have taken this precaution.

Stella Connor’s guilt has driven her away from Atlanta and her job as an EMT. She’s running from a past consumed by her failure to save a child followed by her sister’s betrayal. After dumping her cheating fiancé, she’s ready to stay clear of men.

Tabitha leaped a few feet in front of the dead savage Maci killed, in attempt to jump over him. As her feet soared over the savage, one of the runners dived toward her, slapping her ankles in midair. Tabitha fell roughly onto the concrete, tucking her head and shoulder toward her chest. She rolled a few times, reached for her bow and arrow, stood up, aimed, and pulled the bow’s string as far back as she could. She panted heavily and her body trembled immensely, as the she watched the four runners guzzle the savage’s organs. She kept her back turned to us as she wiped her face. When she finished, she sprinted behind us leaving the runners and the savages in the rugged town. Though we were outside of their town we still heard screams from the men who were still in town. The runners were devouring them. We even heard a few of the men begging us to come back, we ignored their cries and continued running. I peered at my little brother and saw how terrible he felt hearing the savages cry for help. His heart was much bigger than mine. I didn’t feel sorry for a single bastard in that town, each and every last one of them deserved to be eating alive by those cannibals. I began to talk again, once the sounds of screams and moans were no longer in my