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 Posted: Sat May 06, 2006 7:57 pm
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I haven't really thought up a title for this story yet so I'll be changing the story title once in a while, and if you like this story as much and would like me to PM you about it when I did then I will.
This story I wrote two years ago when I was in 7th grade. I found this odd because I was just a twelve year old writing stories like this, but please comment about it! Be nice.
PROLOGUE
"Never take life too seriously...
you'll never escape it alive any ways."
Life is a b***h and everyone should know it. Life fears death, but only lives to die. I was one of those whom feared death... until the tragedy occurred. After that, I realized that everything is not as it seems.
People are walking sins. Hypocrites. Lying, deceiving, greedy, backstabbing hypocrites. In this world, there is no savior or saint, messiah or chosen one to free us from despair; nor angels to protect us from this filthy, infestated world.
Nothing, but pain... and death.
To me, people are pathetic; clinging onto a thread of hope for a better life that is awaiting them. No, I'm not saying it's impossible; it's just an illusion too far to ever become a reality, an abstracted dream.
I still wonder why people think life as beautiful... this world is far from beautiful. Poverty, prostitution, drugs, warring countries, etc. One of life's ways of cleansing itself from sin. No one in this world is pure, not even newborns. For they have been born onto this World, of all Worlds; where the only means of escape are into the depths of your mind... or death.
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Posted: Tue May 09, 2006 7:15 pm
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the surname for that one character was totally random and it makes me giggle to this very day. please comment if you read. geez.
remember to comment.
Chapter One
"All that we see or seem...
is but a dream within a dream." -Edgar Allen Poe
The room was dark; the only source of light was the dim blue color seeping through the dirtied, old windows. Heavy rain drummed repetitiously against the aged roof and house walls and slithered down broken window panes to become part of the mixture of rainwater and dust forming on the wooden floors. Cold, sharp gusts of wind rattled the old house and blew fiercely across her sullen face as she sat there, waiting.
The dull blue light washed over the empty room, shadows lingered and wavered impatiently on the walls. All was silent except the echo of the rain, her light breathing, and the occasional shift of movement. Nothing was going to happen anytime soon.
Until she heard them: car tires crunching over gravel. Voices and the car doors slamming soon followed and that was it. Her waiting ended, her quiet sobs long ceased, and her tear stained face stared eagerly at the grand doors.
The door opened briefly and more light flooded the massive hallway. A slight click of heels against the marble floor and a finely dressed man stepped into the building.
"Vania...?"
The little girl smiled wanly and stood up, quite stiffly for she had been hugging her knees for hours, and dusted off her small uniform skirt. She spoke softly, "I'm here, Mister Brown."
He turned to face her then immediately looked down to the floor, trembling slightly he whispered, "Vania, you must understand what I have to do." He looked up, but still avoided any eye contact with her.
That's when Vania took notice of Mr. Brown's eyes. A thin layer of cataract covered his left, while his right eye displayed despair and regret.
"What?"
"I cannot risk losing them. I'm sorry, terribly I am." Mr. Brown slowly pulled out a revolver from his waistcoat pocket. He trembled and grew paler with each passing second. Sweat trickled down his nose as he pointed the gun at Vania.
Instinctively, she took a step back closer to the stairs, her eyes fixed tearfully at Mr. Brown.
In the rigid atmosphere of the old house, the creaking of the door added to the tenseness of the situation. "Hurry up, you're taking too long." A younger man, maybe in his mid-twenties, stepped through the door and glanced at Vania. His gaze sent an undefined amount of dread of what was to come. His face showed nothing, but his eyes hinted malice.
Seeing that she was watching him, he turned and spoke one sentence in a voice that made him even more frightening to little Vania, "Naughty little girls," He waved his hands around as if searching for the right words, "have a tendency to go through certain amounts of pain." His eyes penetrated those of the cowering girl.
He then smiled a smile which Vania didn't quite understand, with his thin lips pursing together to form a line that curved into a smirk, but was a mix with a grin. A sort of artificial smile. And with his feigned concern for the other, he turned to the shaking Mr. Brown beside him. "We need to get this over with, Mr. Brown, time's running out."
Mr. Brown nodded nervously and raised the gun toward Vania. Instantly, she prepared herself to run.
Crucial seconds passed throughout the house, the dread seeping out the corners. She was tense, the shot was going to ring out any second and she would be dead, not unless she timed this right.
Impatient and intent on leaving the house, the other man tapped his foot on the marble floor awaiting Mr. Brown to shoot. A minute passed and he could no longer take it anymore, "Shoot, damn it!"
Mr. Brown winced at the other's loud tone and closed his eyes.
In that second was her chance. She sprinted down the hallway just as the gun went off, her heart thudding incredulously against her chest.
As she rounded the corner, anguished cries erupted from the unknown man, Mr. Brown on the floor. Obtaining the revolver from the fallen man he shot at the moving Vania and missed to his dissatisfaction. Before running after the girl, he scowled and said, "You have failed them."
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Posted: Wed Jul 19, 2006 10:23 pm
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Posted: Fri Jul 21, 2006 10:30 am
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Posted: Sat Sep 16, 2006 8:23 pm
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Posted: Thu Sep 21, 2006 7:32 pm
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chapter one pt. II
Her breathing only increased when she reached the end of the hallway. Surrounded by doors and windows and with a man trying to kill her she knew very well she couldn't tary any longer, though her lower body screamed horrendously for her to cease her escape.
Vania had been running nonstop since her close encounter with her death, and as she ran the memories flowed through her mind unwillingly with every step. Memories of the home, that now closed in on her as a maze, was once a grand house filled with her family and warmth; now suddenly devoid of the bright lights that filled her mind. The sad old house she was leaving behind, and struggling to get out of alive.
Now, not only had she met an end to her running spree, a new predicament presented itself. Not long after she had made it down the lengthy hallway had she only stopped to realize that rapid footsteps along with her own echoed somewhere behind her. Oh the irony.
Taking notice of which hallway she was currently standing in, she realized there was hope after all. And as a young girl fleeing for her life, she dashed into the kitchen to find that, somehow very unlikely, the back door was open and freedom was in reach.
A sense of peace washed over Vania as she inhaled the fresh, rain air. The rough storm had given way to a gentle spring shower that carressed her small face and whose light drizzling whispered softly into her ears.
"What shame, shouldn't you have continued running?"
Startled, Vania spun around to face a very tiresome looking man.
"All the better, it's quite more honorable to face death than to run away from it." The man smiled bitterly and firmly brought the gun up to Vania, "I'm sorry, but my employer is awaiting me and though fond of our little games I believe we must part. Goodbye, my dear friend."
As the clock in the town square rang twelve noon, the rain continued pouring down on the dim colored world mixing with the blood that stained her once pure white uniform shirt. Before the light faded, she enjoyed listening to the tinkle of the rain on the ground, soft and steady; on the pond, tickling the surface with its endless serenade. Most of all, she enjoyed the light touch of it to her skin, washing away her impurities, sending her into a deep abyss. Though one question still roamed her thoughts: Why?
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