Short Story : A Story On It's Life

I awaken to a large rumble of thunder pounding through the windows of my room, and beams of lightning follow as they sprinkle themselves across the floor. Perfect weather for a funeral. Pulling back my comforter, I rub the sleep out of my heavy eyes. I catch a glimpse of the clock ticking by in the corner of the room. Five minutes past eight, it taunts me. Otherwise known as four hours before McKenna’s funeral. Yawning, I drag myself out of bed and slump my way over to my desk, piles of paper strewn across the desktop. Piles of paper that are speeches meant for McKenna.

I crouched behind the car, trying not to make a sound… I had one hand on the back corner of a silver colored Impala, and the other hand firmly gripping a pistol. I had been waiting on this moment, for what had seemed to be life-long, but in reality, had only been a month. I felt my blood boil more and more with every breath I took, in my attempt to wait patiently behind the car. I was ready to kill this man, but I had to wait for the perfect timing, in order to execute the plan perfectly…

The first thing I noticed when I entered into the cloudy light outside was how cold it was; It was too cold to be May I thought. Then I was brought out my thoughts by soft sobs and remembered the task at hand: getting Sally back to her dorm. The first challenge was getting past the frisbee team practicing on the quad. I grabbed Sally by the hand and pulled her over to the back of Straus. We sat behind a tree in the damp grass. After a minute of excruciating silence, I asked, “Hey, Sal? Could you tell me what’s going on?” She screamed. Her scream echoed in the wide open quad. The frisbee players looked over, so I grabbed her hand and started counting. “One, two, three…” I counted all the way to one hundred and thirty in the softest, calmest voice I could, to calm down Sally. This technique was the one my mother had always used when I had panic attacks to calm me down. After Sally had calmed down, we walked down the long path past the flagpole and the chapel, through the

The old house groaned and creaked. Blake stepped over a pile of bloody glass. Someone, no something, had jumped through the window. She didn’t want to see anything more, but her feet kept moving. Blake turned the corner. The door to the parlour was ripped off it’s hinges. She didn't dare make a sound, the monster was still here, and it wanted her. The parlour couch was slashed open, it's stuffing falling out. A nasty red stain colored the white couch. A arm,mangle and shredded, was lying under the couch. Blake resisted the urge to throw up. She ran into the kitchen, trying to hide from her fate. A stench of blood filled my nostrils. Blake turned her head. A girl her age was lying on the floor. Her long blonde hair was matted with blood. Her neck was twisted at an odd angle. She had a bloody stump from where her arm was torn out of its socket. Long cuts indicated where an inhuman creature clawed open her chest.I had never seen her before. She was just a guest at this party. Blake knew Maia was here. Even if Blake found her, it was probably too late.

There Ella stood amongst the crowd on a windy summer day, the sun was shining bright and the birds were chirping. It was a perfect day, but to the people in the crowd nothing was perfect about this day. She looked around and all she could see for what seemed like miles was grave after grave. Sadness was present on the faces of everyone in the crowd, some people had tears streaming down their face. Not even the beauty of the world around them could take them out of the depression they all lived in.

“NO” was the first word that she uttered when he was enjoying squeezing the nectar of her purity. He was the same person who fought against the whole world only to marry her three months ago. He was the same person who took a vow to protect her from the outer world, but he forgot to mention that one day he won’t be able to control his inner demon. Today, two months after their marriage, he came back late from the office and starts unbuttoning his shirt and she is not ready for what he wants. She is on her period. He was tired and jaded and wanted that pleasure which he hasn’t felt from the last two days because of his busy schedule.

It was a dark gloomy day. I could hear the rain hitting the window panes. Roger invited me to his house to collect a letter. Something about the house made me feel very uneasy. I noticed a lot of hidden imperfections. There were cracks in the walls and on the floor. It make me feel unsafe. I tried to ignore the eeriness of the house and focus on the letter. I took the letter out of the envelope and began to read it to Roger. As I was reading it out loud I noticed that Roger was not attentive. His eyes were wandering into space. “Roger!”, I said. “Are you even listening?” Right as I said that Roger collapsed to the floor. I ran over to him. I shook him hoping he would wake up but he didn't. I called Madeline over. “Your brother randomly collapsed to the floor. I have no idea what is wrong with him.” “I haven’t being feeling the best lately. I hope he doesn't have catalepsy like I. It is irreversible with no cure. ”, said Madeline. I knew it wasn't a heart catalepsy. It had to have been something much worse. I think he was possessed by an evil spirit. House gave me such an uneasy feeling because it was haunted. Madeline and I tried everything we could think of to try to wake Roger up. We tried performing CPR on him. I was blowing air into his mouth has Madeline was pumping his chest. I was blowing so much air into his mouth that I almost lost my own breath. Just as I gave him his last and final breath before giving up he vomited into my mouth. It was absolutely vile. I was so

According to the picture on the Connecticut driver’s license, we found in the house the deceased woman was Katherine Lincoln,” Detective Wallace said.

Is it possible for people like Cole to heal? Will there be hope? This is a story about forgiveness, and anger. Cole’s environment as a kid was horrendous. His father beat him his whole life so that is what Cole grew up to know. He treats people, the world, and himself just like his dad treated him. He was sent to get help with Edwin and Garvey, probation officers who are also a part of the Tlingit tribe. The two of them take Cole to an island where it would isolate him from the world and give him time to change and heal. There he will meet the spirit bear, and learn of the world’s beauty. Eventually, Cole learns the lesson that healing requires forgiveness from others.

It’s a pretty day, thought Chrissie as she munched on her leftover birthday cake. Chrissie just turned eight, and was patiently waiting on her front porch for her grandmother to return from grocery shopping. Normally she would have accompanied her grandmother to the store, but the previous day she had the misfortune of stumbling over a neighbors left out toy and wound up spraining her ankle. Luckily for her she had her grandmother’s hissing mangy scraggly mouse of a cat, Suggs, to keep her company. Chrissie wasn’t incredibly fond of Suggs; he’d bite, claw, and shed fur everywhere. Once he even knocked down and broke Chrissie’s favorite snow globe. Although he was a nuisance in almost every possible way, Chrissie thought of him as family, just as if he were an aggravating little brother.

“When she finally felt she could prove her worth she returned to Danse Macabre. She heard the news of her father's death and of the crown being passed to her brother. Her brother had wed and had three sons by the time Sinata returned from her journeys. Even if she killed her brother, there was the matter of her nephews that stopped her from having claim to the throne.

“You don’t understand.” Marta had heard Maria whisper, as Fernando pushed her back to see her puffy red face. Marta’s hands had started sweating as a wave of heat enveloped her. She’d felt her eyes widen. Maria had never opposed anything Fernando said.

I woke up to my alarm clock playing a random song from my playlist, like it does on any typical school morning. Just like any other typical school morning, I hit the snooze button four or five times before my Mom has to come and drag me out of bed. Her way of waking me up is turning on my desk lamp so that it shines right in my face. I get up, dragging half of my blankets along draped over my back. I slip on my fuzzy slippers and slowing stomp down the stairs.

“Sure did.” I replied studying the man’s features “How do I get more information? Why are you telling me this? Who are you?”

My mom has told me many times before that I have a mind that “gets me in trouble.” I totally disagree. What my mom thinks is trouble is just merely exploration and curiosity. I like going on adventures and discovering new things. My mom really thinks something bad is going to happen to me because I never leave the house without a lecture.