Howdy all.
Myself and a few other forum members thought it would be a good idea to give an outlet for all those budding Authors out there.
This is a place where you can place your short stories, novelas, Poems..ect for people to read.
Please have an age rating at the start of your story just to protect and warn any of the younger audience out there about maturity of content if applicable.
I will be putting some on here shortly, probably the next few days.
Sometime soon there may be a challange to make a story from a set begining sentence. Hurrah.
Anyhow, feel free to put up your works of fiction.
Please dont comment on the stories here. I will make another topic for comments, so that it makes he stories easier to track if they are published in seperate chapters.
ALL AGES AND TYPES OF FICTION WELCOME.
SO ENJOY AND WE ALL LOOK FORWARD TO READING YOUR STORIES.
Sounds fun.. Here’s a short Horror story I wrote a few years ago.
13+. there’s no sexuality, or even any swearing.. Just a creepy story
(Gothic Horror)
The carriage rumbled on into the night, it’s passengers no longer certain of their direction. They were quite certain that
they were to have taken the left trail at the last fork in the road some 25 miles back. Now, however, that assurety had worn
thin. The road was winding upward around the base of the mountain as they were told it would, but was taking far longer than it should. The weather here on the mountain was far worse than it had been on the coastline as well. A snow storm had come out of, seemingly, nowhere and at times threatened to push the carriage off the road and into the gorge below.
“What shall we do henry? this storm is getting worse." said Dylia to the figure beside her, who seemed annoyed at the obvious statement.
“No worries love, I’m quite sure the coachman knows what he’s doing." Henry stated while stuffing a pipe with fresh tobacco from a leather pouch upon his lap. Dylia seemed as if she was going to retort, but kept her comment to herself, just as the carriage came to a stop.
The side door opened and a harsh wind blew promptly into the carriage. A young man dressed in a fine coat, breeches and gloves befitting a coachman, but not a coachman in near arctic conditions, stood there shivering.
“Have you found it?" barked Henry before the driver had a chance to even stutter.
“N-No Sir, b-but i have f-found a road t-that leads into a sh-sheltered valley, the storm seems much less violent there, S-Sir." Dylia looked hopefully at Henry as he sighed in resignation.
“Very well, if we must take shelter for the eve, then so be it” The driver nodded curtly and closed the door tightly against the wind.
By the time the carriage made it down the steep and unkept road, if it could be called such, the storm had seemed to pass. Looking out the window, however, showed the storm still above them. Possibly the sheer cliff face somehow blocked the winds from swooping down into the valley, one could only guess. The horses slowed to a steady trot as the coachman, Frederic to his friends and family, looked into the gloom for someplace to turn off the road and camp for the evening.
A slow steady fog rolled uneassily in as the driver continued his search for a suitable place to pull in and possibly build a fire, he was quite starving, as he hadn’t eaten since the early afternoon. He had this unnerving feeling of being watched, but that was just silly, not every road in every forest was haunted.
How many stories had he heard from his fellow drivers in the last year alone? Bah! coachmen were known to be worse than fisherman, with their tall tales and headless horsemen, yet still the feeling persisted.
Finally coming to a suitable spot, and direly needing to urinate, Frederic pulled off the road and into a clearing.
He knocked on the door to inform the snobs of his need to “use the facilities”, and moved into the trees to relieve himself.
It was while doing so that he noticed the worn foot path leading into the fog, and could that be the flicker of a lantern? Behind him he heard his occupants stepping out of the carriage and stretching their road weary bones, turning back to look at them and make sure they didn’t plan on making him remove all their luggage. When finally he looked back there was no light that he could discern, though the fog seemed to thicken in the mere moments he was not paying attention.
“Boy! is this where you plan on us encamping? This is wretched, i don’t even see a fresh stream!" bitched Henry in his condescending tone, whilest Dylia apologized with a look in his direction.
“Sorry Sir, it seemed as good a spot as any we might find in this fog, but more importantly i believe i saw a light off yonder” Pointing in the direction he glimpsed the illumination. Henry and Dylia walked closer to him and peered far into the distance.
“Are you daft? i see no light, just....fog” Said Henry with a snide smirk.
“Couldn’t we atleast check Dear? I mean i would rather find a comfy bed than sleep in that carriage” Pleaded Dylia in a voice whinier than she had intended, but Henry didn’t seem to notice,which was just as well.
“I suppose it could be worse, we could still be up in that storm. oh fine then.let us investigate this phantom light then” And off the three strode, after taking some personal items and a comfortable change of clothing from the carriage ofcourse.
Walking the path was confusing, to say the least, as fog swirled and eddied around the small group, confusing their senses and seeming to swallow all sound from the forest around them.
There was very little evidence of the storm raging overhead, a mound of snow here and there, but nothing close to the drifts that were forming on the road they had escaped. Even the temperature was that of a brisk spring morning, as opposed to the arctic gales in the mountain pass above.
After some time Dylia exclaimed “Henry! do you see it? a sign!" Henry started at her voice, his nerves clearly on edge.
“what?where?" Looking into the fog he spotted something.
“If that is a sign it is an old one." Squinting into the fog, and drawing closer, they stood in front of an old dilapidated gateway leading off the path.
The hinges hanging, and what may once have been wooden doors, long since rotted away. Only four letters remained on the gateway, C E M E.
“Ceme? i’ve never heard of a town named Ceme” Declared Frederic, issuing a tert glance from henry, for speaking out of line.
“Yes well i am sure there are many things in this wide world you have never heard of COACHman, I myself HAVE heard of such a place” bellowed Henry in a pompous display.
“You have?" Inquired Dylia with hope clearly on her face
“Ofcourse! It’s a farming village, one of my servants was born there” He bluffed
“quickly, I am tired of walking and am famished, i say we find an Inn and bed down for the night” Off the path and through the towering gates they walked, slowing only as the fog lifted slightly and showed them the ramshackle villiage beyond.
Several people were milling about, with no obvious destination in mind, their clothing old and tattered, moth eaten and threadbare in places. Their faces, drawn and ashen, had obviously not seen the light of day in many years, if at all
“what is wrong with them Henry? they seem so..so Ghastly!" Clutching tightly to Henry’s arm he waved off the obvious peasentry
“It’s obvious this valley rarely sees daylight, they are obviously Anemic, i saw it many times at the asylum” Speaking of his Schooling in London at the Mimico Asylum For the Unwell and Insane.
“These poor people” All around there were people shuffling and milling about, some entering small, squat buildings that hadn’t seen repair for a hundred years.
Several buildings were boarded up, others collapsed, and at least one with no roof. “Maybe we should leave, Sir” suggested Frederic, with an almost pleading look on his face.
“Nonsense, it may not be up to snuff, but it is better than that cramped wagon” And so they walked steadilly, ignored by , but watching carefully, the populace.
In the distance a larger building could be seen, a sturdy structure akin to a tavern of sorts, with people entering and leaving, the only such gathering place they could see.
“See there? a Tavern, perhaps they have rooms, or more importantly food!" still unsure but egged on by the promise of sustanance, and perhaps a bed, the three entered the building.
More a cafeteria of the damned than a tavern, the building was a large room with no less that 12 long tables, many filled with people dining on some sort of stew. A large bar along one wall had several pots of steaming hot stew, being served by more of the townsfolk, and a short line waiting to be served. Henry tried speaking to a young man, in his early 20’s and just as gaunt as his fellows, who merely walked past and out the door.
“How rude!" huffed Henry
“Maybe you should remind him of your station...Sir” Remarked Frederic, smirking, while Henry merely glared at him.
Dylia walked up to the line and kneeled to eye level with a young girl, no more than 10 “hello sweetheart, what is your name?" she said softly, charming the young girl into speach
“m-my name is Rebecca” said the young girl, in an unpracticed voice, clearly not used to speaking
“why hello Rebecca, that is such a beautiful name. I am Dylia” taking the young girl lightly by the fingertips, and frowning at the lack of strength in the girls hand.
“are your parents with you?" she asked, issuing a slow shake of the girls head “they have gone to get more giftboxes”
At which point Henry, tired of waiting while Dylia socialized with a waif, stepped in front of the two and grabbed a bowl to be filled with stew.
Frederic stepped past them as well, giving Dylia an apologetic shrug, and lined up for food, as his stomach growled audibly. Dylia was about to ask the girl more, but decided it could wait, and lined up behind her companions, still holding the little girls hand.
After being served, and futilely trying to strike up conversation with those serving, they took a seat at the furthest table they could find and began to eat.
Frederic was the first to notice the tough stringy texture to the meat, very dry and much like the jerky within trail rations, used by hunters in the english countryside. The flavour itself was very bland with small, turnip like, root vegetables. Overall the stew reminded Frederic of the potato soup he was raised on as a child, but with dried venison thrown in as an after thought. Looking around he saw that the townsfolk seemed to very much enjoy the meal, even Henry with his perpetual scowl, was shoveling it down, although his face showed a distaste for the dinner.
Dylia seemed nauseous and ate around the bits of meat, while the little girl, who’s hand she still held, seemed almost ravenous.
After the meal, in which Henry had seconds, the three left and walked Rebecca to her home.
Dylia had manged to get little more from the little girl, but had found out that she now lived alone in her families home, her parents aparently leaving some weeks ago to help with the “giftboxes”, whatever THEY might be.
The house was a near shambles, a single story house made from rotted planks nailed, and in some places tied, together. The only furnishings, a single bed and a makeshift cot against the far wall, and a table with three legs in the centre of the single room.
“This is where you have always lived?" asked Dylia with a hint of disgust.
“Oh no! we lived in a much smaller house before, but luckily the other family went to the giftboxes”
Henry obviously was disgusted with the conditions, but none of them had seen a better structure than this. Dylia seemed as if she wanted to pursue the topic with Rebecca, but everyone was tired from the journey through the mountains, so all turned in. Dylia and Henry took the single bed, while Frederic shared the cot with Rebecca.
Frederic had been asleep but something, a sound?, had awoken him.
He looked around while his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in from the fog outside. The door was ajar, a cold breeze blowing in and chilling him to the bones.
As his eyes became accustomed to the light, or lack thereof, he noticed that both he, and Henry, slept alone.
He stood abruptly and started shaking Henry harshly, causing a grunt from his snobbish passenger. “What in the hells are you doing, you filthy sod?!?" crabbed Henry,still half asleep
“They are gone! Rebecca and Mistress Dylia!" Frederic nearly screamed
“Nonsense” mumbled Henry and placed his hand on the spot where his beloved had been, noticing just then the cold place on the bed.
Eyes flashing open and sitting bolt upright he grabbed Frederic by the collar “Where is she?!?!"
acting on reflex, and enjoying every second of it on hindsight, Frederic slapped Henry across the face and gasped for breath.
“I don’t know, i was asleep as YOU were!" he panted, and reminded his pompous Master
“I awoke to a sound <cough> and the door was open”.
The two quickly gained composure and headed outside into the fog. They searched the entire town including the tavern where they ate, checking the door and finding it locked, until seeing what appeared to be two men carrying a box into the back of the tavern.
Henry seemed about to address the men when Frederic clapped a hand over his mouth and silenced him, pulling him behind a dilapidated house so as not to be seen.
“what are you doing?" whispered Henry harshly
“In case you didn’t notice, that my dear man, was a coffin” Henry looked sharply back towards the building, the shadowed figures, entered. “You can’t be serious! what need would they have for coffins in the taver...."
Henry’s face showed he new exactly what might be needed from a coffin in the tavern, and promptly threw up behind the house they now used as cover. After several minutes in the building, the two figures, left the tavern and headed out of the town square, followed closely by Henry and Frederic.
They neared the base of the mountain and saw, what appeared to be, a keep of some sort carved into the face of it.
The two figures slipped in through a door, disappearing into the depths of the mountain. As Henry and Frederic neared the entrance they could see a faint illumination from deep within.
They entered carefully, a rough hewn stair leading deep in the belly of the mountain in front of them, and the sound of feet scraping on stone. Slowly they moved,as quietly as possible, down into what must have once been a dungeon under the keep above.
They stopped in front of a cell door, where promptly they heard whimpering, Henry, nearly flying recklessly forward, stopped only at the last second by Frederic’s grip.
“that was Dylia! we must get to her before..before.." Henry left his whispered plea hanging
“if we are going to save them we must be careful, I’ve no clue whats beyond that door,do you?" Henry dropped his face and shook his head.
Frederic reached down to pick up a jagged rock, when his eyes caught something on the wall.
He turned to see what appeared to be a deep niche in the wall containing the bones of a child, visible gnaw marks on many. His eyes followed the length and breadth of the walls where more and more niches were carved into every surface, all containing bones.
“Dear Lord..."
Just then two of the townspeople came out of the room, from which they had heard Dylia, and seemed stunned by Henry standing before them.
Frederic promptly swung the jagged rock as hard as he could muster, shearing off the top of one mans head killing him instantly , while Henry wrapped his hands around the second mans throat.
“You sick BASTARD, what is become of my wife!?!?!" he screamed, spittle flying onto the mans face.
Henry’s hands strangled the man 'till his fingers ached, and long past the point where the man died from suffocation.
The sound of Dylia brought Henry to his senses, he dropped the dead man and rushed into the room beyond, coming to a stop as he took in his surroundings, and Frederic quickly followed.
The room was like a large wagon wheel, a centre dais containing a throne upon which sat a mummified corpse, with eight stone tables radiating out from the dais like spokes.
Each table had a body upon it, in various stages of mummification, surrounded by spiked metal armatures caging them in place.
Each table had a groove in the floor running from the table to the dais, all filled with a trickle of blood, that seemed to be coming from puncture wounds caused by the spiked arms.
Henry ran to Dylia as she whimpered from the wounds the spikes caused
“Henry!" she sobbed “they killed her, they killed rebecca” blood trickled out of her mouth as she spoke.
“Don’t worry Dylia! I-I’ll free you, all is w-well” He stammered, not nearly as certain as he tried to sound.
Frederic and Henry both looked the contraption up and down for a way to remove it from Dylia before it bled her dry as it seemed to do to the other bodies upon the 7 other tables, one of which was rebecca who seemed long since dead.
“There are two levers” whispered Frederic, looking the machine over thoroughly
“yes but which one Damnit!?" Pleaded Henry.
“I.. I think it’s this one” Said Frederic, placing his hand upon a lever
“No! it must be THIS one” challenged Henry, his hand on a seperate handle
“Are you possitive?" asked Frederic, completely unsure of himself as well as of his Master.
“YES! I am the scholar! I am the one who has the best schooling, what would YOU know about this?"
Pulling the handle and hearing the sound of the arms moving “see?"
he pointed triumphantly, a split second before Dylia’s screams sent a chill through his very soul.
The metal arms started to rotate, while the spikes remained firmly in Dylia’s flesh, rending skin, muscle and bone.
Blood and gore poured down the table into the groove, flooding into the dais while the screams persisted, followed by the sound of Henry screaming as a hand protuding from his chest held his still beating heart...
Frederic looked in complete fright and hysteria as the corpse that had been mummified and seated, a second earlier, stood behind Henry with a look of insane glea upon it’s reforming face.
Frederic swung the jagged rock as hard as he could at the creature, hoping to kill it before it had a chance to do the same to him as it had to Henry.....
....The carriage rumbled on into the night, it’s passenger now certain of his direction.
He was quite pleased with his escape from that wretched keep, all that blood, all that gore only reminded him of just how hungry he had been for the last 300 years.
Luckily for him he had found this wonderful wheeled construct, so much more comfortable than horseback.
Not to mention the fine clothes and wonderful map, London would be quite beautiful this time of year......
James R. LeClair
--- "The Problem with the English language is that it is as pure as a crib-house whore.
It not only borrows words from other languages; it has chased other languages down dark alley-ways, clubbed them unconscious and rifled their pockets for new vocabulary."
Last edited 18 Jan 2007 03:06 pm by James R. LeClair
Heres a story i whipped up last night for this topic.
The Mysteries of Rockwall University
13+ no violence, Minor swearing
Chapter 1
The coffee tasted sour this morning, the same way it tasted yesterday and the day before. In fact, food in general had lost its appeal. Apples were no longer sweet and crisp, wine no longer provided the heady high at the end of a long, hard day. Life had lost its flavor. It’s strange isn’t it? How life can be perfect one moment and anarchy the next. The delicate balance shattered, the scales tipped from order to chaos in a blink of an eye. My life’s path, ripped from its confines so swiftly, altered so suddenly, without warning. Like an ear of corn, ripped from its husk, I was reborn. I remember it, like it only occurred moments ago.
The day began like any other. Sunlight streamed through the window of my pokey apartment, lighting the room where I slept. The suns rays crept like rats, sneaking their way through the clutter of empty takeout containers and Styrofoam coffee cups that littered the floor. Steadily, it clambered onwards and upwards, marching like a relentless army, hell-bent on conquering every square inch of this domain. Beams of light lay waste to the gloom, piercing my eyelids, ripping me from my slumber.
“Damnit! I really have to get some curtains or something” I grumbled in defiance to the suns persistent illumination. It was the same every morning. Rudely awoken by the inconsiderate sun. It was a ritual I could do without. My thoughts lingered on whether I could ignore the invasive sunlight and get a few more minutes rest, but part of me knew that this effort would inevitably prove futile. Begrudgingly, I was awake, for better or worse. Little did I know at that time, it would be the later.
As I clambered off the couch, which by night doubled as my bed, remnants of last nights pepperoni pizza tumbled to the floor. Still half asleep, I made my way over to the kitchen, which in fact was merely a bar fridge with a broken door, a small group of cupboards, a stove and stool which served as a table.
Not so much a kitchen, but rather a group of objects, which sadly purport themselves as a meal preparation area, they in part, served that purpose well enough. I was on a mission, I needed caffeine and I needed it now. Wrenching open the cupboard door, I was greeted with nothing.
“shit, no coffee” .
That’s when heard the knock at the door.
Actually it was more of a pounding, but who wants to be technical at this time in the morning
“WHAT” I shouted out. There was no verbal response. Just more pounding.
“HOLD ON, IM COMING”
I figured that if I didn’t answer the door soon, this joker would probably pound the bloody thing off its hinges, so I ambled over to the entrance of my humble abode. As soon as I got within a few inches, the noise stopped. Finally, I thought, maybe they’ve have had their fun and decided to bugger off and leave me in peace. BOY WAS I WRONG!
As I opened the door, I was greeted by to figure. One, a Tall Dark skinned man man, towered above the doorway. The other, a female, blonde and tanned. I’m sure she would fit in just fine with the other models that occupied this part of town. Both immaculately dressed in some kind of purple designer suit.
“um yeah” I mused, perplexed as to why they stood before me.
“Douglas Brady” the woman asked
“Yeah” I replied inquisitively.
“The Dean of Rockwall University has requested your presence immediately”
“Who”
“If you would just come with us sir” boomed the tall man.
“Just give me 5 minutes to get changed”
“we’ll be waiting” the big voice spoke again.
Now I knew of Rockwall University. Everyone did. It was big ominous place surrounded by walls and trees and it was not a good place to be. Nobody enrolls for Rockwall, instead you get summoned.
Nobody knows how they choose their pupils and I don’t know why they would want me. At 5 ft 8 and slightly overweight, I wont be winning any fitness competitions and with my plain features and unruly black hair covering my face half the time, beauty contests are out of the question. Surely they can’t want me because of my academic history. I was an average student who spent more time chilling out then hitting the books.
As I pulled on my clothes, I tried not to think about the rumors surrounding that place. It is said that nobody ever refuses. Sure there are the whispers of defiance and refusal, but those people never seem to stick around long enough to tell. Its almost as if they are whisked away under the cloak of darkness, banished forever for their non compliance, their missing posters, slapped on the walls by grieving loved ones. Slipping on my shoes, I could delay no longer, do I go with them or do I try to slip away?
Curiosity got the better of me. One way or the other, I was destined to go.
Opening the door, I left my apartment and headed with the messengers. Off to the unknown. Off to Rockwall University.
Well this is a true story about Justin(my friend) and I.
One friday night, a cold night, directly below my room, Justin and I were on the computer, he was on the desktop computer, while i sat on the futon, on my laptop. Each of us was on Myspace. Justin had to use the restroom so he left the room. I sat on my computer talking to friends. I heard a screeching from the window, like someone was rubbing it, then I heard a few thumps, on the window. I thought that it was just in my head and my friend walked in. I didn’t say anything about it. Around midnight it started again. Justin and I both ignored it at first, then we heard it for a second time, we both looked up, and then at the window. Justin stood up and so did I. We both had our eyes fixed on the window, the noise still came from it.
I felt drawn torwards the window, i walked, and without think my hand reached for the draw strings that opened the window. Justin said, “Kyle what do you think your doing." I lowered my hand and said nothing. All of a sudden we heard loud, loud thumps and even higher pitched screech. We both took off for the door. We didn’t stop in the hallway, we ran up the stairs, and into my room. I locked the door, and we sat there. I remembered that the screen was not in my window, i figured i would open the window then peak down to see what was there. I climbed over my bed. Opened the window which made the same noise that the screeching downstairs had made.
I poked my head out the window and looked down. I saw my cat Kodiak, sitting on top of the turtle cage, pawing at the window. Relieved Justin and I went downstairs, opened the blinds, and taunted the cat through the window.
A poem I wrote, in the early 90’s, for a goth-ish zine I started
In the land of sorrow
The living shall feel pain,
The lost shall taste fear
And the dead shall know
Darkness.
In the land of tomorrow
suffering is free...
Whether you want it or not.
In the land of nightmares
The Blood Shall Flow Freely,
And when darkness falls....
The drinks are on me!
--- "The Problem with the English language is that it is as pure as a crib-house whore.
It not only borrows words from other languages; it has chased other languages down dark alley-ways, clubbed them unconscious and rifled their pockets for new vocabulary."
about 13+ just the story of a soldier in ww2. this is chapter 1, im hoping to get 5 chapters.
Chapter 1: Charge of Stalingrad
My name is Alexander Tareg. i work as a watchmakers apprentice, hoping one day to open my own shop and have maybe get married and have kids, strt a life. But one thing squashed my dreams.World war two. Now i approach stalingrad about to lay down my life....
The boat was comiing in. we were reaching port.
the seargent shouted at us " welcome to Stalingrad. You are about to start the greatest moment of your life and maybe your last. Cowards and traitors will be shot! Do not count by days you survive, or miles, but by the number of Germans you kill! kill the Germans, this is your mothers prayer. Kill the German, this is the cry of your Russian earth! Death to the German!
" Death to the German! " we replied.
We had reached port. We got out of the boat and were each equipped with a rifle.It was time for action now.
" you! come with me!" shouted the seargent.
" me, sir?" I replied
" yes, you. Pay attention and follow my orders or i will shoot you myself."
I followed him then we took cover by a demolished building
" the machine guns are firing. Wait till they stop before moving."
He was right. If we moved now, bullets would fall at us like raindrops and wed be dead in a second. The machine guns had stopped firing now and me moved into an old warehouse.
The warehouse was swarmed by Nazis. We were fighting through it all. We reached the top. Then our 2 other men came up holding parts of a machine gun. They set it all together and one fired. Soon the gunman was shot and i was told to start shooting. I fired at the Nazis until I was shoved at the way. what the....? the seargent was dead in front of the machine gun. He must of seen a sniper that was gonna take a shot at me. But for a seargent to take his own life for a normal private..... i should have been the one that took my life for his. Then a dark figure came running up the stairs. I held my rifle tight in case it was a Nazi, but it was the commander....
" well, Im sorry for the loss of your seargent. But now you take orders from me. There is a warehouse where they have 3 machine guns firing. it is right opposite, do you see it? Our soliders cant get in so it is your job to find a way and get our soldiers in. Stalingrad can not afford to let the Nazis keep that warehouse. To show that we have conquered it, take down the nazi flag there. Now go!
I searched all around it, keeping out of sight from the machine guns. A back door! This is exactly what we needed. The soldiers charged through killing all the Nazis and i took down the flag. Stalingrad was safe. I was able to see all the Nazis retreat from stalingrad......
for ages 13 and above for violence, blood and other moments...
Chapter one
The cold wind blew on the leafless trees next to the layloe home on forest len road. Inside the house were the 3 members of the layloe family, kevin, keira and their dad. The mother was working late... again. Mr Layloe was sitting on his couch with a couple of alcohol beverages here and there, some empty and some un-opened. In the kitched, kevin and keira were trying to enjoy their dinner, a bowl of popcorn. Mr Layloe was a bad parent and Mrs Layloe was always away and never had time for her children. So Mr layloe just threw that bag of popcorn into the microwave since it’s an easy to fix thing.
All of a sudden, keira had to go to the bathroom. She stood up but she had fogotten that the her bowl of popcorn was in her lap. The metal bowl fell to the floor and salt and popcorn spilled and the bowl made a loud noise when it hit the ground. “What the hell was that” yelled Mr Layloe. Kevin and keira looked at each other then keira yelled “I just spilled-". “WHAT!" Mr layloe yelled, “YOU SPILLED?!". He stormed into the kitched with 2 beer bottles in his hands, one empty and one half empty. As you know, a lot of alcohol consuming tend to make one very short tempered. “What did you spill?!" he asked. “Just this popcorn” Keira said. “Just this popcorn?!" he repeated, “why the hell do you need that much salt in it?!". “Well I-I..." but keira never had a chance to tell her ill-tempered father what she was trying to say, because in an instant, mr layloe bent down and smacked keira across the face.
Keira then fell backward on her bottom and started holding her face and trying to withold her tears, but it was too much. The place where her father smacked her felt as if it were on fire, so she began to cry. But when Mr Layloe had smacked her across the face, some of the drops of his alcohol spilled onto his hand and on the floor. After seeing that, Mr Layloe was even more ferious. “LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!" he yelled. He then approaced keira with the empty bottle in his hand. For a moment there it looked like Mr Layloe was going to hit keira with his empty beer bottle. Kevin, who was watching everything transpire, couldn’t just sit there anymore. He quickly got out of his chair, ran in between keira and Mr Layloe and faced his father. “Stop” he said, “she has been punished enough”. “Get the hell out of my way or I’ll give you the pain that I was about to give her. “If you’re going to give me it, instead of her, then so be it” kevin said.
Mr Layloe glared at him for a moment then he held up his empty beer bottle. “Very well” he said and then took his beer bottle and smashed it on the floor. There were sharp peices of glass everywhere on the floor. Mr Layloe quickly examined the peices of glass then picked a bi sharp one off the floor. Then in one quick moment he swung the peice of sharp glass into kevins right arm. Kevin then cried in pain and fell down onto the ground next to his sister. “That’ll teach you not to do anything like that again” he said “now your mother has to clean this up when she gets home. “Where the hell is she anyway?! I swear if that little-". It would be best if the rest of what Mr Layloe said and did were not to be described as he stormed out of the kitchen and continued using obescene language and throwing a fit. Kevin and Keira could hear some more beer bottles breaking within the living the living room.
Then they quickly got to their feet, avoided the sharp glass and darted to the bathroom and locked themselves in their. Kevin then, with difficulty, yanked the peice of glass out of his arm. Keira searched the bathroom for some big bandages for his brother. “Thank you for doing that Kevin” keira said, “but now your really hurt. “Don’t worry about it just keep looking for a large bandaid. Keira nodded and continued her search. Mr and Mrs Layloe never kept their things well organized at home so it took a minute or two before keira found them and handed them to kevin. “Here” Keira said, “let me put it on you”. “Thanks” Kevin said, “but I’ve had it with this, keira! our lives have been miserable since the day we were born. There was something I’ve been considering for a long time now and after this, I am definetly going to do it now. “What are you going to do” keira asked. “We’re going to run away” Kevin answered.
Everything was going alright at the moment.i had a few lucky breaks, like the seargent, but i had to put that ehind me. I was alive. That was all i could ask for for now. I thought about all my dead troop friends, who had the bad luck of being kiled. It made me feel sick.
" Hey buddy, are you gonna move? we have dozens of hungry soliders here so dont hold them up."
" oh, sorry."
I moved along and grabbed my food. i wasnt hungry though....
I sat down. My last two friends, Tom and Peter, sat next to me.
“itll be ok, ths war will be over soon." Tom assured me.
" yeah, but before this war is over, who knows? Maybe we’ll be dead by then. I replied
" come on, its not as if the germans are going to attack right now....
" quick everyone! German ships are coming this way and have got past our dock defences. Get ready!
" yeah, sure they wont attack now” I shouted.
We all had to grab guns. but it seems that there were lots more Nazis than we could handle....
This is the prolouge to my new book, “lost in the light of darkness”
A bang crashes in the night, a horse rides out of the castle holding a yellow stone. The clacking sound of horse hooves ride behind him.
“Get back here you bloody rane!"
The rane rode for seconds untill his horse got shot in the leg, he falls down, hitting the ground and his leg was broken. The rane said 3 words and the yellow rock was gone.
“you devilish rane, ill see you in hell!"
“im not much worth to kill” said the Rane as a red stick went right through his heart, leaving no trace of the Rane, horse, or the murderer.
End of the prolouge.
THis is inspired by eragon just so you all know. its a good book to read. trust me.
Kevin and Keira waited patiently for the sounds of their father shouting and breaking beer bottles to die down. After a few minutes it did and Mr Layloe was back on the couch again watching TV. Kevin and Keira then hurried pass the living room, hoping their father wouldn’t notice them and headed downstairs. Then the two went into Keiras room and locked the door. “Run away?" keira asked, massaging her right cheek where her father had smacked her, “where would we go?". “Anywhere” kevin answered, “anywhere but here, I’m sure where ever we found ourselves, we’ll be happier than we are here, we should just go someplace far away so that they’ll never find us and bring us back”. “I don’t know” Keira said. “Hey you can stay here if you want” Kevin said, “but I know for sure that tommorrow I am packing everything that I will possibly need and I am getting the hell out of here”. “I want to come with you” keira said, “I really do, but I’m just...scared, what if something bad happens to us?". “We already had tons of bad things happen to us” kevin said, “and this night was just another chapter, remember when dad whacked you on the knee with a stick for being to slow to get him a glass of wine?". “Yeah, and and mom is never home to do anything about it, I bet if I told her that I was going to die then she’d just say 'yeah thats nice dear'".
“Then it’s settled” kevin said, “we pack tommorrow and we leave the day after”. “But wait” keira said,“I still think it’s not a good idea to just leave not know where to go, we should plan a destination”. “Yeah, maybe your right” kevin said,“you look for a place for us to go and I get our things ready and hopefully we’ll be out of here in the day after tommorrow”. “Alright” keira said. Kevin left keira in her room and went to his own and locked the door. He then plopped down on his bed and held his right shoulder, the place where his dad stuck a peice of glass in.
The next day came and kevin and keira were making sure that their parents wouldn’t know that they were planning to run away. Of course, this was pretty easy to do. In the morning when kevin and keira went up stairs to fix their breakfast, they saw their mom talking on her cell phone. “Uh Kevin could i have a word” Keira asked. Kevin nodded and the two left the kitchen. “How about we try and tell mom what’s going on?" she asked, “if dad knew that we were planning to run away then of course he’d most likely throw a fit, but maybe mom will be more understaning”. Kevin thought for a moment then said; “maybe your right, but only if she is willing to listen to us”. Keira nodded and the two re-entered the kitchen where their mother was still talking on her cell phone. “Uh mom” keira said, “can I speak to you real quick”. Mrs Layloe turned to Keira and then told the person she was talking to to hold on for one second. “Can’t you see I’m on the phone” she said. “But we need to speak with you about something important” kevin said. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait” Mrs Layloe said and went back to talking on her cell phone. “But mom-" keira said, but Mrs Layloe merely gestured to them to go away.
Kevin and Keira just stood there, then keira remembered yesterday night when she said that if she told her mother that she was dying then she wouldn’t notice, so she decided to give it a shot. “Hey mom” keira said in fake choking voice, “I’m dying, I’m dying!". “Yeah, thats nice dear” Mrs Layloe said, scarcely looking at keira. Keira then stood up and left the kitchen with her brother. “That’s the exact same thing that I predicted that she would say” Keira said, angrily. “I know, I remember” Kevin said. “I guess your right” Keira said,“Our best option now would be to forget this place and go some where far away where they’ll never find us”. “Then what’re we waiting for” Kevin asked. “But wait” Keira said,“How are we supposed to go far, far away? walk across the country?. “Come to my room” Kevin said, and Keira did, hoping for an answer. Once in Kevins room, Kevin looked under his bed and took out a small box. He then opened it and it revealed an amount of cash. “This” kevin said, gesturing to the money, “is around 2 years of money of lawn-mowing and snow shoveling for other people, we’ll catch we could both catch a train out of here and still have plently left over”. “What about a place to go” Keira asked. “You know, theres something I thought about that before I went to bed last night, follow me”.
Kevin led Keira to the guests room closet, in their were a bunch of family photo albums, suitcases and other things that might be stored in an attic. “We could look up mom and dads relatives and see if one of them runs some sort of thing were they take in run away kids” Kevin said. He then took out a photo album from a shelve and blew the dust off of it. Then he opened it and took out a photo and showed keira the back. “See, look at this” he said,“mom rights down a alot of the information about the people in here, like this guy; 'Donald Luggar' a lawyer in Jamestown”. “So we all we have to dois find some guy who takes in run away kids” Keira asked. “Yeah but lets make sure that the person is someone who mom and dad hardly know and that that person does not know us so they’ll never be able to find us”. “Alright then, lets get to work” Keira said, and they did. For about an hour Kevina and Keira sat on the floor of the badly kept guests room and flipped through the photo albums looking for someone who’d take them. Finally Keira found a photo that could wokr. “Hey kevin” she said,“come look at this”. Kevin apporoaced his sister and read the back of the photo out loud. “Formerly a colonel in the army, now the vice president of the Oswull Orphanage, an orphange where nearly all kids without a parent are accepted”. “So what do you think” Keira asked. “Well thats the only thing we’ve found so far and I don’t think we should be picky”. “Yeah” and his location is not too far that it will take all of the money you have, but it will be far enough for our so-called parents to find us”.
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Arts/Creativity
» Short Story Fan Fiction Forum
First 
thats good. im working on a story, and a poem i made up a while ago, just need to remake it.
