Write A Short Story Of A Story

It was a crisp, cool evening on December, 31 2016. It had snowed a lot that day and the driveway leading up to my father’s cabin was slick with ice. I checked the pork loin in the rotisserie and began peeling potatoes for dinner. The clock read 6:23, which meant I had plenty of time to make dinner before my family arrived. I was mashing the potatoes when I heard a crash from outside and a knock on the front door. I approached the door with caution. When I opened the door, a large, green figure stood over me.

The knock at the door startled Dana. She set the Bible she was reading aside, stood, and approached the door.

“Come on Louis, just tip your head back.” Niall hissed. The other omega groaned and began to splash at the dirty tub water. Liam looked over his shoulder and frowned. He could see that his own omega was becoming frustrated. Like expected Louis was being difficult. He was beginning to wish Ed had given him more medication to make him sleep longer, it would certainly make it easier to get things done. Even though Louis couldn’t walk well yet, refused to speak, and was still quite out of it he managed to still be sassy.

The tip of the fluffy, light brown tail disappeared around the corner. I gave chase. My paws pounded on the hard ground, scattering pebbles, and the wind ruffling my fur made me feel like I was flying. I was gaining on it. If I could reach it before he reached the grove of trees…

I bask in the destruction as the symbols of the most powerful beings on Earth simply melt away. I shut my eyes and let the snow wash over my skin, arms outstretched. I open my eyes to Jensen chuckling. “What?” I ask.

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.

I sit through the boring lecture about amarras day. Im her echo, a backup. When she dies, I take her place. I'm like a carbon copy of her. Besides the little E tatooed on the back of my neck. Natalie, my “mentor” As scarlett calls her. She's talking away. She loves talking. She calls for a break because she can clearly see how bored I am. I go to our tiny kitchen and grab a snack. I'm not supposed to have a name, but scarlett gave me the name eva, Short for evangeline. When I was younger, I never understood why I had to read whatever amarra wrote or look at the pictures Natalie gives me of her life. By the things that amarra has written to me, She doesn't like and or want me. Shes always have said that I will never have what she has. Shes criticizes me all the time. Calling me a faker, a ghost. I'm glad I never have to meet her.

“Hey dad,” Laura asked as she skipped into the kitchen, noticing her dad was reading the newspaper, “can we go for a boat ride today, and maybe do a little fishing?”

I couldn’t sleep and I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. I was an insomniac despite my parents telling me I just wanted to be up late at night. Please. No one wants to be awake at 4:30 in the morning. But I tossed and turned anyway, trying desperately to get my body to rest.

“Yeah right!” Anna yelled as she kicked her horse and came chasing after me. We stopped at my grandpa’s farm.

Knowing that her day was going to end in disaster, Marsha drove down the road from work cautiously. Her hand gripped the wheel firmly as she dodged the chances of crashing. At the same time she was trying her best to analize her day. The wonders of winning the contest first popped up in line. She dreamed of the prizes and the speech Tonas Lightning made. But the excruciating memory of Mrs. Jones’s insult blurred her vision. So she chose to forget about it. Marsha remembered when she ran up to her room one December day to find most of her advantages stolen. Then the incident when Mr. Guy whacked her eye causing a nasty black eye to appear on her beautiful face, in her opinion. But the note she stole was really pressuring her mind.

It was midday when a man named, John was driving across the state to see his family. While driving through back roads, he encountered abandoned woods. Soon the unexpected happened, his engine started smoking. John had no choice but to pull over in the middle of nowhere to check it out. He was able to get the car up and running normal again but, something else happened, his tires were flat. John had no spare tires, it was like this was no accident. So, he started walking through the woods looking for help. After an hour of finding nothing, he tried to go back to his car but, his car was gone! After panicking for a brief moment, he thought to call the police but, he left his phone in the car, now he didn’t know what to do. After a hard hour of thinking he knew what he had to do, he had to find somewhere to sleep but he didn’t know where to look. He began to search around for a few minutes in the cold and dark woods.John seen a light in the distance and tried to follow it. As John was walking, he started to feel tired. His legs went weak and he felt a shiver down his spine. Knowing he needed to hurry, John tried to run but it was like he felt like he was paralyzed at that instant John felt a hand on his shoulder, he didn’t feel alone. Once he got feeling back and could move again, it seemed as if the light started to get dimmer, John had to move quicker. Every step he took felt like he was being watched, which he didn’t like it at all. What seemed like hours of running, John

I gather up my belongings. I'm a minor at 16 years old, running away from a summer camp. I don't know whether I should trust my camp friend, who goes to the Springfield orphanage, Lily on finding my parents, but then again, I find that her kind eyes and sweet mod brings her out as a really smart and kind person.

My mother died when I was just 3 years old. I do not remember much of her, other than a glimpse of her face, smiling down at me. My father is a distant man. He has never said more than a few words at a time to me, even during our study sessions. He will assign me a lesson, and simply watch as I complete it. My only confidant is Ms. Matilda, the family maid. She takes the time to listen to me.

Sit back, grab a bowl of popcorn, and get ready for what’s about to happen next. The initials A.S. will stick in my mind for the rest of my life. A.S. was a boy. He was a very important boy as matter of fact, or at least during my junior year of high school I thought he was important. But, to what extent is someone else’s importance greater than your own? Here I will explain to you a story of the boy who stole my self-worth and helped me gain it back. It begins in the end of December of the year 2016. Rumors of a new kid at school rung in my ears like church bells on a sunday morning (I don’t attend church but that’s besides the point). “He’s so hot” “I wonder what grade he’s in” all that fun mumbo jumbo. I’m not going to lie this is not a story of love at first sight because when I saw him, I did not see what all the hype was about. He was tall, so very tall, 6’1 to be exact. His eyes were some sort of a blue green, the kind of blue green that makes you sea sick just by looking at them. He had this stupid long light brown hair that felt like a cloud of everything I ever desired when I ran my fingers through it. I prefer not use his name but so begins the story of “the boy”.