Short Story

At the bottom of the stairs, she turned to the left and went nearly to the end of a long, stone hallway, small rooms dug into the walls. She walked into the living quarters of her family and smiled. They'd gotten one of the biggest rooms, since her father was helping on the company's project here in the Sahara.

Walking out of the bathroom, she picked up the sweater she’d worn yesterday, and slipped it on, gently pulling her long blonde hair out from underneath the back of the sweater.

Ian ran upstairs to take a five minute shower, and quickly dressed in a blue and black plaid shirt with some khaki shorts. He attempted to fix his hair, it was a little damp, but there wasn't time to properly dry it, so it was fine.

She dried herself off, toweling off her hair before wrapping the towel around herself. Grabbing her brush off of her counter, she went to her bedroom to search her closet. It wouldn’t take her long to get dressed; she already knew what she wanted to wear. She had an emerald green dress that cut off at her knees and showed off her figure without giving too much away. She brushed her hair as she pushed back all of her work clothes to reach the small collection of dresses she owned.

"My dear child, let them do their jobs. You must come now, if you stay like that any longer blood will surely stain your costume." With that she was whisked away by the Madame and found that they had gone to the lounge for the performers.

“I’ll have 6 eggs, a big glass of orange juice, a banana, and some oatmeal please” said DeSean “ You’re one crazy kid” said the female bartender at IHop. “Yes ma’am, I might be crazy ,but ready for football this morning” DeSean responded swiftly. The bartender responded almost immediately saying “Damn right, hope you do well this morning, I’ll have that food out real quick honey”. DeSean waited for less than 5 minutes before chowing down on over 1000 calories. He exchanged some words with the bartender and he was off to football.

He turned and started to walk away, turned back toward her and stepped forward again

sometimes, if I see an especially sensitive-looking fighter, I’ll bet against him ‘cus I can’t stand the idea of missing the chance to spot a crier before he’s cried. I don’t know how much sense that makes, by when I explained my reasoning to Ed, he said that it was ten-times better to bet with your heart and lose, than to bet with your mind and win. Even though Ed pretends to be this grumpy, grisly guy, sometimes he can be cheesy like that.

Undeviating from his usual schedule, he headed for a quick shower after his morning’s jog, his dirtied clothing folded neatly to a side before entering the steaming shower. A few short minutes later, he made his way over to the spacious kitchen, a towel still wrapped around his wet hair.

Stumbling out of bed, she turned on the coffee pot before going to the shower. Afterwards dressing in a low cut, red top and tight denim jeans

Moving away from the glass, she began to rummage through her minimal luggage in search of something more ideal to travel in. She, eventually, settled for a simple white blouse, a waist-high brown skirt, and matching boots. After dressing, she rolled her unruly curls into a simple updo which formed a halo around her head despite the cold. Once she felt composed and properly arranged, she repacked her luggage and closed the brown cases before slipping into her fur coat and exiting the room.

Unwillingly, she crawled out of bed, pulled her hair into a messy bun, and slid on a pair of sweatpants. She put on a sports bra, covering it with an Under Armour hoodie, and then she walked downstairs and slid on a pair of blue flip flops. After grabbing her keys and backpack, she walked out to her car to go to school.

Fleeter loaded his things into his sack, and got his weapons ready to be brought along.

"This is the last step to your initiation. You must jump from this tower" said the tall slender man wearing a grey trench coat similar to those in the Matrix.

The smattering of rain on the roof overhead calms me, beating out an irregular rhythm like an anxious child unconsciously tapping his foot. The dim glow of my phone screen washes over me as I wait for the light to return, cut off by the flash flood inducing rain. I look around, and sigh; yet again, the lights on the ceiling are blank, leaving me with nothing to shield myself from the impending darkness.