So I wrote this piece of garbage short story for a contest at my school, and when my teacher read it she said it was so good she almost cried. Kyler Low A country divided. A blazing war. A young man, a dying man. Lying in a war zone torn to shreds by large explosions. A single tear shed from this boys eyes. Not a symbol of sadness, but a plea of mercy. The last words he would ever mutter... Oh, save me. A dark sensation and a blinding light, followed by the deep blue eyes and the long blonde hair of his only friend. The one who died years ago. He touched his friend, having forgotten his name for some odd reason. He noticed the wings that sprouted from the other young mans back, and the floating golden crown above his head. This is what he was waiting for. The plea of mercy had worked! He couldnt wait to see the rest of Heaven! The bliss was pure and ecstatic, and now he could rest for the rest of his eternal life here. His friend started off towards a large tower in the distance, and the young man followed. They took to a trot, eventually sprinting until they reached the palace in the distance. The angel in front of him knocked on the eloquent wooden door that was placed in the front of the keep. The doors opened wide, and the blonde boy left. The young man tried to follow, but found a overwhelming force telling him not to. As he looked away, towards his friend, he saw his sad wave. He turned quickly jolting as a giant man sitting in an ornate throne, a long scruffy beard running down his chest. It was him. He was mouthing words through his monster lips, moving vigorously as though the man had done something wrong. He was surprised that Heaven had no sound, considering it was paradise. But he didnt care. He was here forever and always, and he loved it. He could go anywhere in Heaven, constantly exploring and living here forever. But the dark feeling returned, his expression dimmed with every passing second. And the bright lights again. Every bright vivid memory of paradise gone except for that he was there. He awoke in his cot, the one set at the base for him. The ground shook like bombs had been exploding, but there was no sound. A sad realization came upon him. He let out his second tear. This time a symbol of sadness. His friend and his hearing, both gone forever. He stood up, with a searing pain in his back. He took the carbine rifle on the wall and got ready for work. He ran outside of the base, seeing enemy soilders spilling out of convoys and capturing hostages. A gun touched the back of his head, and he was subdued. He let out his third tear... This one consisting of misery and constant pain. One week later, the boy took his own life. Hoping, to be reunited with his only friend...
Posted on: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 02:57:00 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015