Short Story

He had just managed to stumble to his feet resting his back against the wall. The only light was in the room was from a small opening where the ceiling and wall met, covered with bars. Bahauddin had reached for his neck and a sense of anxiousness rushed through his body. There was no metal there, no keys, no nothing. He had peeked his head through the cell bars to examine the lock and everything around him. “Hello?” Bahauddin yelled, waiting for a response. Coughing had came from the cell next to him. “Hello,” he repeated, “who’s there?”

John looked at the prisoner, he looked around his 40s, with messy dark hair and a rough beard, but the defining feature was a scar going through his now-blind left eye. John froze in horror as he remembered the brutal events that had changed him forever.

I thought I would have to go to my trial dressed in the same dirty, dark gray jumpsuit they had given me. No one had told me any different, so I just assumed that I would be taken to the court house in my jumpsuit like I saw all the criminals in the movies do. It wasn't until a guard collected me from my cell that people finally started explaining things to me. I was taken to a small room that was very similar to the one my lawyer and I had met in, except this one had a window instead of a one way mirror. From my seat, I looked out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of something from the other side. I craned my neck, I saw the officer that had led me into this room talking with a man, but the man was facing away from me. I couldn't tell

I clawed at my back, trying to staunch the blood gushing from my back. I sank to the ground, writhing in pain as I was slowly surrounded by figures cloaked in black. My breathing grew ragged as they drew closer to me. I glared

After they got me in handcuffs we immediately when to the station. On the way, I looked out the window it was a beautiful day, about 27 C. When we got there they instantly put me in a questioning room. They asked one question, only one.”Why did you do it.” I told them everything, about the noise and his dreaded eye.

“This poor young man has entered your presence without your consent, my lord.” Said the taller of the two guards. The man approaches to a point where he becomes slightly visible out of my peripherals. I instantly realise who it is and turn around to

A new arrival came by: tall, long hair, delicate frame, expressive facial features. She was lovely, yet it was obvious she worked here. New, of course, for she didn’t seem as hardened as the other guards. She walked by with another guard, Hugo, I believe his name was, toured the prison and showed her the ropes. However, once she walked by my cell, we made eye-contact. Her lips pursed into a thoughtful expression and she pointed to me, asking Hugo: “Who is he?”

Pain spread throughout my whole body as the impact of the fall left me quite disoriented. Fumbling my way through the forest, I looked for a place to hide. After a minute, I managed to conceal myself into the shrubbery surrounding a tall willow tree. Motionless yet alert, I listened to all the sounds around

Before my mind could process the question, my eyebrows raised themselves with my eyes widened too. Questions and other thoughts started buzzing around my empty head, not knowing where to start. Resuming back to reality, all eyes were on me. There were only two pairs of eyes on me, but it felt a thousand more. They were people I didn’t really know. Same age as me, equal to me. So, how were they so intimidating? My gaze dropped to the floor, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. If they’re the same, why couldn’t my mouth move? Why couldn’t I just spit it out? I figured at this time the boy was probably her witness, and she was playing the victim. What do I say now? She’s got proof of

You are each person that is seen. The officer. The prisoner. The lawyer. Each personality twisted and warped into one body. You see the interrogation underway. Arguments ensuing without an end in sight. You are unable to control the situation behind the glass. Knowing you can't see through the aluminum powder to see the "You" that is out of view.

The air felt stiff; the ground felt rough and crumbled. Senses of being watched increased and my surroundings felt interfered. My father, young brother of my Uncle, Chief Jaidev, has long since went back to our land to give tonight’s meal from our hunt while I stayed behind to find supplies for our spears. The feeling grew larger and I believed I should have gone back with the rest of the tribe, but my body felt tense and my mind wandered over the unknown. Suddenly, I heard footsteps and voices behind a pat of bushes. When I looked over, I spotted a flash of red and an odd object in their hands. Acting quickly, I ran back to the tribe

As I cautiously opened the creaky gate, I stared around at the graveyard. The whispers of newly departed souls clung to me like a scent. The hairs on the back of my neck started to prickle. Someone, or something was watching me.

By the time I made up my mind, the criminal was probably half- way across the countryside. I ran to my fallen comrade. His body was as cold as ice, with blood splattered across his stomach. I sat there, feeling sorrowful for my lost

It’s exactly eight o’clock when I hear the door open like it does every single day of my dreadful life it seems. I also hear a quiet voice counting along with their steps, and this has become so routine for me I even count along in my head, dreading every single step. Maybe today he’ll turn around and leave, maybe today of all days. This is what I think to myself as I lean over the spotless espresso machine pretending to see a smudge I scrub vigorously trying to shake the sensation of him behind me. I can do this, I only have to deal with this until the end of the week and then I’ll be able to move a few towns over and forget all about this nightmare. When I hear the bell ring to that annoying tune I don’t have to resist the urge to

A short story like any other term does not have only one definition, it has many definitions, but all of them are similar in a general idea. According to The World Book Encyclopedia (1994, Vol. 12, L-354), “the short story is a short work of fiction that usually centers around a single incident. Because of its shorter length, the characters and situations are fewer and less complicated than those of a novel.” In the Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary (third edition) short story is defined as “an invented story which is no more than about 10 000 words in length.” At the same time online Britannica Encyclopaedia (www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/541698/short-story, 21.02.2012; 12:04 p.m.)