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I shake my foot away from the loose grasp of the net and run, run for my life and more. I don't stop until im downtown, lost in the croud they will never find me.
I walk, the sand in my toes, the wind in my face and the overwhelming sound of seagulls around my head. I ponder through my thoughts, thinking, regretting and remembering my journey.
Lydia was falling down. It had become eerily silent inside the tornado. Lydia's body was numb. She knew she was falling, but she didn't know where. There was no where else she could go.
The tedious, dry, and cracked ground is difficult to shove a rake into, and after many tries of beating the spokes into the soil it gives in and is shoveled down beside me, revealing fresh dirt for...
~And now for something completely different.
I went for a stroll one misty night and roved upon the moors, and there a creature I did see a beast of teeth and claws.
The air around them was screeching in their ears. It got louder and louder as they ventured closer to the tornado. The tornado was horrifying yet awesome.
Scrambling through the toxic infested tunnel, droplets of water dripped onto her back and mud caked its way onto her knees.
The tiny winged passenger plane ripped through the feathery clouds as it plummeted towards the earth at uncontrollable speeds.
Mottled skin, Dark rings around her soft eyes, So much ink, Coverin' up the danger and lies.
I can hardly believe its come to hiding in alcoves as I wait for my prince charming to come, but as the figure approaches, I realize I'm on my own.
The howl sounded shrilly in the distance, jolting Vega from sleep instantly.
*This is based on a dream I had a while ago, I adapted it into a story. Your thoughts and any criticism are welcome, please comment.* I'm standing in a wooden hut.
We are in drought The poster said I'll wash myself With sand instead Drink only blood Throw plants away Once withered in The cruel sun's rays We are in drought So says the news No hosepipes,...
"I don't want to die in an old peoples home. I want to go out with a bang." I said as Chris and I drove down a quiet road towards where we were meeting my devious supposed-to-be-dead mother.
"She's gone." Lydia sighed. Lydia and Gavin were in the middle of nowhere. The area around them was empty, except for cornfields and barns. The wind whistled beside them.
The division of an anecdote Challenged by an immortal soul. Effigies of gloating gods Guarding hoards behind templed walls. Ancient treasured carvings flawed.
Monday, the 30th of April 2012 the calendar showed as David Leeds Evans looked up and stared blankly at it. The classroom was quiet, maybe even a little too quiet.
Here is the first part of a story I wrote when I was 11. The other parts will follow soon. Josh turned round frantically. He looked around and with a lump at the back of his throat forced out: “Tim.
In the 1800s treaties of trade were signed, promising that lands like Japan, China, Africa and South America would trade with the northern, or western lands(United States and Canada) But now,...
There was comfort in the herd, strength in numbers, some would say. We have no need for numbers, for as one we hunt our prey. Across the wide savannah, the herd sweltered in the heat.
When we get down to the beach I smell the salt. It's warming to know that this was once a happy world. Where kids could live and be free.
"Run!" Jupiter screeched, grabbing Lydia by the hand. Gavin followed the girls, holding his hand and weeping. The three raced down eerie hallways. Gavin's face was pale.
It's late. She's tired. Wish she could sleep. Can't. The pounding footsteps sound outside the door. She hears the slamming of the basement door open, and shutters. He comes down the stairs.