She whimpered, her tiny voice wavering as she quietly said my name. I held
my finger to my lips, begging her to be completely and utterly silent. She
nodded, wordlessly promising her cooperation. I looked into her adorable face,
streaming with frightened tears, and an overwhelming sense of protection
enveloped me. They would not find us.
I could hear them walking overhead. Heavy boots pacing the floorboards,
back, forth, back again. Some quick, harsh words over some communication
device, then silence, then more footsteps, the pattern was precise and
repetitive, always the same. And there was me, me and my little friend huddled
beneath the floor of what was once a home. As I looked upward to heaven for the
billionth time, I still could barely tell how we got here. We were running,
running from the shouting and the bullets and the shrapnel flying from their
advanced artillery weapons. We evaded, hid, ran, over and over. Exhaustion
taking over, near delirium, and then peace as we finally found here, this little
private room hidden and safe. Safe. For now.
I told my small companion to dry her face and sleep, the bad guys would be
gone when she woke up. That’s all I could hope for. No future seemed brightly
eminent. And everything in the past remained so. I stayed tentatively and
alertly in the very present, expecting the worst to happen. They could not find
me. I was all that this slumbering little girl beside me had. They couldn’t
find her. She was all that really made sense out of my suddenly hectic world. I
had known this day was coming. For years I’ve known. But I never really
expected it to come so soon. At least we were safe, for the most part.
I knew that my reasoning was out of proportion, we weren’t safe. I couldn’t
help wishing I was still in my office crunching numbers instead of in this hole
underneath a billion task force officers from The Guard.
Dust fell over our heads as an officer stepped right onto the door to our
little hiding place. The hollow sound of his boot resonated. A pause filled the
gap in sound. Suddenly the trap door flew open, illuminating our space with the
artificial light of the officers' daytime generators. I felt a tug on my arm as
they wrenched me and my companion out of our Hiding Place. And nothing iterated itself
more fully to me than the fact that we were doomed. It was the end.
AAAAh... why must you end it there? A great little snippet of what was a great story. I think that while more description could be used in general, the pace of the story didn't allow for what we would normally expect. It's supposed to be tense, and the color or smell of the wood and whatnot would only detract from it.
Very tense, and great job in relating the main characters right off of the bat. That's what makes a story.
This is really good. Needs a little work, but really, not much. I think you could add a little more by using all five senses. What does it smell like where they are? Is it musty? How does it feel? Is it cramped? Are the main character's legs cramping? You got the vision and hearing down, but don't forget about smell and touch. And to add a little more, if you can add taste, do. Maybe the MC bites his lip hard to keep from screaming when the boot stops overhead and blood fills his mouth.
The more we feel, taste, hear, see, and smell, the more we feel like we are there. Just a thought. This is very good. :D
you had me with the first paragraph. I could envision this whole sequence completely. you ended it so abruptly though. I assume if were to continue to persue this story you would change this or add more for sure. Good job again my Friend.
Pretty good. Good description and I like how the character talk to his/herself. Though one thing you might want to edit is "communication device" which could be a phone maybe? If you were thinking of walky-talkie than keep communication device for that sounds more into the story. Keep up the stories. Ethan
I don’t write stories. I write moments. I write moments because they are all that make a life. Moments are what give people both joy and sorrow and humanity. Moments address our deepest emotions.. more..