Wound

An eleven-year old boy is just like anybody else-until a fatal accident involving a pistol, car, and a girl. This story is about love, death, and being trustworthy.

He sat down on a wood bench, before crouching over a large table in the middle of the street. It was a light shade of brown, and about the size of a couch. 

It had been there for a week-no one claimed it. No cars would come around the block, and it was quiet. Nothing moved. The eleven-year old boy ran across the streets, directly in front of a shop, then headed for the hills. The forest of trees and bushes calmed his skin and his nerves, while he gripped a tree firmly. He closed his eyes slowly and smelled the breeze of the wind. He could hear nothing but rustling from the leaves of trees and bushes. Only a small swish awoke his heart and it started beating, hard. He placed his hand over his chest where his heart was and patted it. Then he ran off, towards the shops and buildings-he observed the separation between the two different atmospheres. One natural, peaceful and quiet. The other busy, noisy, and calm. And then he heard it. A shot, directly towards him, which struck him in the chest. I guess this is what I deserved. To die. To not live. A day more. He breathed in heavily and then hopelessly, shutting his eyes. He felt the cold breeze of the wind brush against his face. Then it was dark. 

This is NOT a real story, but I want you to know that being brutal-or having brutality is Not something I truly love. Please be against man slaughter and brutality. 

Author's Note

I hope you like this story, because it took me a long time (XD). I also hopes this story inspires other people to make a nice, thoughtful story too. :) Keep on writing!

Reviews

[>Gressy Fingers< XD]

thank you. I appreciate that people actually understand...

[Jade]

This world is cruel enough, some people are just mean. I like to see the nice in people. I see the point in this. well said