The Shadows Of The Death And Pain I Knew Too Well

I came to a halt. My hands were bloodied and bruised. I finally let out the tears, and it wasn’t because of the pain I inflicted on my hands. It was realisation of losing my friend. Maybe we would have been more than that, even- if he was alive. I heaved, I whimpered, I couldn’t breathe. I yelled in agony, my fists didn’t hurt like how my heart

One day I woke up and there was nothing, no hustle and bustle though the house just silence. It was very odd for it being a school day for me and my brother. I just laid there waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. I decided to peek out my window to see if anything was weird and immediately I noticed a giant flash of light. I ran to my father's gun case and shattered the glass not even worrying about the cuts on my arm. I grabbed his 12 gauge and his 380.. I have had much experience with guns so I could properly defend myself. I looked around And yelled “Mom , Dad , Anyone?” there was no reply to my plead. But once I turned Around again there was a man. Torn up and battered like an abused

I’m not going to lie, i shed some extra tears. But as soon as i touched her cold hand and told her that i loved her, i knew that she was going to a better place and that she was no longer in pain. As i remembered all of the amazing times i had shared with her, i heard a voice in my head telling me that it was okay to be upset, and that it was all going to turn out okay. I believe in crying & acception. I believe that every storm runs out of rain. I believe that everything will turn out okay. I believe in

Pain can be emotional or physical, but the obvious part about it is that it is caused by being hurt by someone or something. The mental wall that everyone builds after being emotionally abused makes many people believe nothing will ever hurt them. They are extraordinarily wrong. Even when someone believes one hundred percent that the wall is indestructible, they should never have

I opened the bag grabbed my gun, then slung it over my shoulder. I stuck the gun in front of my pants and stuck out my feet first through the window. I jumped out and then closed the curtains over the window and slamed it shut.

I hopped out of the truck and grabbed the gun. Crouching down and sneaking towards it, I got closer and closer until I could make out its entire body. It was stuck in the fence!

They waited the next day, Night time to start escaping, They found a gun near a guard as peter quietly went behind him and it took it.

At the age of ten I murdered my nanny. To others, I say the incident was an accident. She just happened to slip and fall on the knife in my hand, which killed her instantly. However, I am the only one that knows the truth. After all, how could an awkward ten year old, undeveloped boy obtain the power to murder another being?

When I saw my aunt and uncle walk into the waiting room, fresh tear stains streaked upon their cheeks, I knew. When my uncle opened his mouth to say something and nothing came out but a child like squeal, my heart was torn in half. When someone finally said the words ‘she’s gone’ to the family members that had just arrived, getting my extremities cut off of my body one by one would have most certainly hurt less. I shut down and sat in that too clean smelling hospital room, little by little people began to say their good-byes to each other and leave, while I just sat. My grandpa walked in and I looked up at the red neon clock on the wall to see that a hour had passed. Without saying a word, he motioned and walked with me out of the room to the end of the hallway where my sister and cousin were sitting. The corner where the four of us sat, you could look out the windows into a sea of city

Next thing we did was run to the safe and grabbed the shotgun it had already had rounds in it. Me and my brother we aiming at the basement door we had finger on the trigger ready to shoot. Nothing happened we opened the door and inspected the basement. NOTHING WAS THERE we were really spooked. I kept the shotgun next to me if I heard it again. But before I went

“Katherine, please think about what you are doing” she stutters. My mother closes her eyes. You can hear the knife slicing through human skin. But it’s not her skin who is being sliced, it’s mine. My mother opens her eyes and catches me before I can collapse to the ground. She places me onto the ground, my head in her lap.

Since arriving home from the cemetery, Hannah had not spoken a word to her parents; instead she sat blankly staring at her roof, while her thoughts and feelings filled the space around her. Fixed in a daydream, Hannah sat up from her bed as she became startled from the creek of the opening of her door. As the door opened, a dark figure stood in the middle of the doorway, while the light from the rest of the house consumed every wall of her room. Shadows began to move from wall to wall as Hannah’s mum made her way over to Hannah’s bed. Seeing her mum standing at the end of her bed, Hannah let out a loud sigh as rolled over into her pillow.

The smell of death and sadness lingered over my shoulders lie a monster whispering all my deepest fears in my ears. Tan and navy blue coated the bland walls, the same blank wall my empty eyes stared at while my mother spoke to a doctor. The doctor’s voice was sickening to my core and her words burned like a Californian wildfire. Hearing that my pitiful life would be held captive with other sad souls made my veins go cold and heart go bloodless yet still beating so hard that my body might shatter.

I cried. Oh how I cried. How much I hated the fact that I will have to go to the place that I never wanted to go to and had sworn I wouldn’t. But I still got up dusted off and walked. But this stupid human tendency to want something which is never good for you, it wasn’t done with me. Oh no not yet it said and dragged me back.

An immensely dense, dark fog covered the sky for many hours, intensifying in color with each long, drawn out minute that passed. The only visibility of my surroundings that I had was from the tiny spark of light created by my lantern. The delicate flame was keeping me company - while offering me a source of comfort in the back of the shaky, jolting buggy. The flicker of the flame entranced me, the slight warmth produced by it drawing me in. I sat there, studying the flame and its beauty. I had never been one to fear the dark; the still of night was a beautiful contrast to the vibrant daytime. Nightmares were things created and fabricated within the mind. The idea of fear was simply a product of an overactive imagination, and I had been told to suppress the idea of any impossible creatures lurking in the darkness of my room. My childhood years seemed to be a distant memory, despite the reality only being a few years prior. A lot had changed since then; I had grown up too fast, and tragedy had fallen upon me that had aged me beyond my years.