Creative Writing

One day I tripped and fell. I don't know why I tripped. My shoes were tied. The floor was smooth.
A little man with sugar all over him had a devious look on his eyes. I looked at him wondering. I heard a voice say "First they're sour" . Then the little man came and helped me up. He gave me a dollar. I heard the same voice from before say "The they're sweet". As the little man walked away I thought "Sour. Sweet. Gone."
 
Need your opinion on this one.

I had to submit this for a short story competition. Whaddya guys think?

I stood there, alone, at the bus stand, waiting for her in the huge downpour. It was a typical monsoon evening with dark, overcast skies; the usual rainy weather that most people would describe as gloomy or sad. But not me. I loved this weather. It reminded me of the times we shared together; those days, when we would walk through the rains, just for the sake of getting drenched, and being together. Those days, when she would snuggle up against me in the rickshaw to stay warm, those days, when nothing else mattered.

We would walk through the streets of Mumbai, wandering through the concrete jungle to enjoy each other’s company. She would occasionally stop right in her tracks, point at a random building and say “Hey! You know what? Let’s replace this building with a mountain!” And then the fantasy would unveil. We would sit there, in the building’s courtyard itself and build our imaginary world on top of that mountain. Beautiful grassy slopes, a chilly lake with an alluring pebble beach. “And a log cabin right?” “Yes, with just two rooms!” I still remember the way she would say “And don’t forget the horses!” “White ones right? Stallions?” Every single time, I would be rewarded with the most angelic smile. I could never resist returning the favour.

We built our own private little paradise on top of that solitary mountain. That was the one place we could escape to; the only place where love conquered hate. Our imagination was the only abode where we could leave the extremism behind. Our own world, where we could be together.
We were the best of friends. Over the years, we had taken that term to the next level. I was always there for her, as she was for me. She was the only girl I could ever open up to. The only one who ever knew my conscience better than I did. Maybe even better than my parents. We spent every possible minute together. If not in person, then on the phone, else, in our thoughts. Nights would be sleepless till we texted each other saying “GNSD – Good Night and Sweet Dreams. The first thing we’d do after waking was text each other a quick GM – Good morning.

Eventually, it hit us. Or should I say, hit me! And it hit me hard! So hard, that I was both exorbitantly overjoyed as well as petrified. I didn’t know how to break it to her. Did she feel the same? What if she didn’t? Would she still talk to me? Would this create a barrier in our friendship? There were just too many questions!

Eventually, I decided that I could not hide it from her. I mean, my life was an open book to this girl! How could I possibly not tell her something of this magnitude? And so I did. That fateful day, 19th June...

She was shocked beyond bounds. She could not believe the fact that her best friend had just proposed to her. “It can’t happen!” she said. “Why not?” “I’m elder to you!” “Ha! Like that matters!” “It does to me!” “Well, it shouldn’t. Besides, you’re just 5 months and 4 days elder to me!” “It still counts!” “Isn’t Sachin’s wife SIX years elder to him?” She could never refute that one. For Sachin was a figure she always looked up to. “But we’re from different religions!” And that was something I could never refute.

She had a point. Me being a Hindu, it was practically impossible for both of us to be together. She knew for a fact, that I would never convert. She wouldn’t let me. If at all she loved me, she loved me for what I was. She loved my name. She could not get herself to be the reason for me losing my very identity. As for me, I loved her. Not her religion.

Eventually, things returned back to normal. The walking resumed, so did the marathon phone conversations. But something was always off. Anything and everything would always seem to lead to “My Topic”. I never gave up. I tried my level best to convince her. Even though I knew I was fighting a losing battle, I tried my best. I strove to kill as many seeds of hatred as I could. Seeds that had been sown over the generations in the minds of people.

It was a divide that could never be bridged. Any attempts that were made for a reform were immediately crushed by fanatics: Religious nut-jobs who believed that their “faith” gave them the right to stop the holy union of two souls. I could never understand them. Or the society that they were supported by. Why did people always put faith before adulation? Was it essential for two people to be from the same cult to fall in love? Weren’t we all humans after all?

But she wouldn’t listen. “It doesn’t work that way, stop dreaming. Live in reality” These were the words from the same girl who would build with me, a sanctuary of peace. I refused to believe it. “It can’t end this way!” I told myself. “Be true to her. You will be rewarded. Do your best to be there for her”. Every night I prayed to the almighty, call him Allah, Christ or Ganesh, to help me earn her love.

I was a mess. There was nothing else on my mind. All my life decisions revolved around one wish: I wanted to end up with her. It led to sleepless nights, a perpetually disturbed state of mind, and a constant fear: “What if I lose her?” That was one question I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to. It all started taking a toll on my health. Rapid weight loss, weakness, hypertension...

And she blamed herself for it. I couldn’t bear to hear it. It wasn’t her fault that I fell in love! It wasn’t her fault that retards with different beliefs had grown to hate each other! “I should have been like the other girls” she would say. “I should have stopped talking to you on that very same day” “I wouldn’t have ever fallen in love with you if you were an ordinary girl”

And she wasn’t. She was the only girl I knew from her community, who had eon on to be one of the world’s most renowned wildlife biologists. “I want to hug a tiger!” she used to say back then. She had finally achieved her dream. I was very happy for her. The way she had tackled the “religion and culture” barrier was creditable.

But still, the divide that had been created by our forefathers was impossible to bridge. I grew to realize that religion will always be the biggest hurdle for a valentine. It would be the only thing that would rain on his dreams. Like it was raining on mine right now.

I checked my cell phone: 19th June. It had been 5 years. I looked down S.V. Road, around the college corner. Waiting for that bubbly girl to hop towards me, jumping in the puddles, swaying with joy. I would give anything to pull her cheeks right now, to be with her, to forget the fact that it was too late, that she would never come...
 
Probably the latest thing I've written out of school.
Warning, decent amount of text. The titles are a little messed up since it was copied and pasted from a document, but whatever.
Day 1 - The Crash


I have no idea how I got here. One minute we’re in a storm on a boat (I was in the kingdom’s military), then we hit a side of a cliff. I managed to get pretty far on a piece of driftwood, but eventually my body went unconscious from the swimming and gouge I had in my arm from the crash. I woke up in a strange hut made of wood, my arm bandaged, and a journal and quill. Since I will most likely die or starve on this island, I will be keeping a log of the days to come. I assume I will not be aided in any way, as the food in the hut has long rotted, leading me to believe that the owner died. I shall name this island Feryll Isle, after my ex-general, and this hut, Fort Feryll. Okay, it’s not much of a fortress, but I want it to be.
Pigs

When I first stumbled out of my hut for the first time, I was greeted by a non-hostile being; a pig. As far as I know they are harmless, and not much of a threat. The one I encountered I shall name Hammer. Hammer seemed to have swallowed a flint and tinder, because I retrieved it from his stomach contents when I slaughtered him.
Flint and Tinder

Hammer gave me my first tool! Well, I sort of forced it from him, but nonetheless. It was not a hammer, but flint and tinder! I learned how to use this during my training, and I was never very good at it, but now, after a few tries, I can commit arson like the best of them. I only have a limited supply of it, so I hope I will find a practical use for this before I run out.
Cliffs

Falling. Hurts. I accidently fell straight down when I was playing with my tinder, and might have died if I didn’t land on my feet. Let this be a lesson to you; if you play with fire, you’re going to fall off a 20 ft cliff.
Glass

When I recovered from my fall, I landed in a bed of sand. With a fire maker in my hand, I wondered if it was possible to produce glass from this sand. Well, it’s harder than it looks. I tried just simply lighting it on fire, and dropping sand of fire, but nothing has worked. I will update this log if I find out anything more useful.
Caves

Caves are going to be something I imagine as dangerous if I don’t look where I’m going. The farther I go, the more near to pitch dark the space around me becomes. But this was no enormous cavern, and it barely ventured down before coming back up to the surface. And to think I feared monsters would be in there! It will also be easier to explore future caves if I had some sort of tool of some sort. A pickaxe, possibly? I was never a miner, but in my blacksmithing class, I was awarded the bronze hammer (Oh Hammer, I already miss you) for excellent crafting. Hmm, what other tools might I be able to make on this island?
Spelunking caves was something I was never able to do, as I used to live on a farm before joining Vatacom’s army. I had too, because it had been a horrible harvest for the past few years. King Vatacom had also raised taxes recently then, and we had nothing to eat. So I was basically forced to serve him. I have never been anywhere near Vatacom, and I have no idea whether or not he is fit to be a ruler, but now I am free from any nation’s ruler, and I have to say that maybe this crash wasn’t such a horrible experience after all.
Stone

It’s hard to mine with nothing but my broken sword, and it lies beneath the grass and dirt. My hypothesis is that this will be the most abundant resource I will find underground, but does it really take a genius to figure that out? Another thing I predict is that this will be a very nice crafting material, depending on whether it will be any easier to collect with a pickaxe.
Flowers

Ah, flowers on a beautiful island. The ones back home had died long ago from various droughts, and were very expensive. This island’s value has just doubled because of the abundance of them. From what I can see, there are red and yellow flowers. Red flowers were to more precious back in the kingdom. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I will become a great and mighty leader out here, and form a nation, and I will make my own type of currency, and my land will be an economical titan! Oh, who am I kidding? These flowers give me hope, though. If they can thrive here, why can’t I?
Sheep
Another friendly creature! I found that its wool may become useful. As you get nearer the skin, the wool gets darker. When I slaughtered it, I felt some guilt. These creatures do not hurt me, so why do I kill them? Anyhow, these sheep will probably become more useful than the pigs at some point.
On another note, King Vatacom had always spoken of how dangerous the wilderness was. How it was overgrown with monsters ready to ambush you. That’s why we always traveled by boat. Now, I question whether that was even the reason. But then again, this island is separated from the rest of the world, isn’t it?
Feathers

After the second sheep I had killed, I discovered that that one had a bag around its neck. The bag contained nothing but a few feathers. How did that bag get there? Was this island populated by a civilization of super-intelligent sheep? Or was it just the man who had lived here before me, and who had wrapped my wound, that put it there? Probably the latter, but the first would make an excellent comedy!
Cave Water

I found a slightly deeper cave this time, and there was water, going down very deep. When I tried to make it to the bottom, I realized I was very near out of air. I emerged from the pool, exhaling as I did, and managed to leave with only a little water up my nose. Is there any way to get any deeper in these cave waters?
Sunset

Sunsets on this island are very nice. Being out alone, looking at the setting sun brings back memories. You have probably heard of the old sunset stories, so I’ll spare you of them since I fear that the night may bring danger. I will write back tomorrow.
Zombies!

The living dead, seen by my own eyes! They seem to want to chase, and probably kill, me! They don’t run very fast, and they only appear at night. They were a moderately easy opponent alone, but I fear that if many swarm me, I would be no match for them. These enemies will give me nightmares next time I sleep.
After some thought, I remembered that zombies don’t just appear by themselves. They are summoned by a necromancer. There must be some sort of black magic going on in this island, and I don’t like it one bit. Shall I piece anything else together, I will record it.
Skeletons!

I saw one! As I could have guessed, it wasn’t friendly. I got a few steps closer to it, and it shot an arrow at the ground beneath me! I would have observed more, but then something happened, and I lost consciousness. I will write down more if I see them again.
Explosion

As I was about to run from Mr. Skeleton friend, something exploded to my right! I wasn’t sure what it was, as it was pitch dark. It appeared to be a white explosion, from what little sight moonlight gave me. As my eyes closed, I knew that it was the end. I just wished that I had known more.
Day 2 – Miracles Happen

I woke back up in Fort Feryll in the morning even sorer than I was on the first morning. What I first noticed was that my resources were gone, and then I noticed the note on my chest. I slowly bent my neck up to see that it read:
“Leave now, or you will die just like the one who rescued you!”
Gee, I sure wish I could! But then I thought of who could have written this. Surely not the skeleton. They cannot write! The necromancer? Quite possibly. Who else would want to kill me? But now I had anger. He killed the one who rescued me and wrapped my arm? I will not leave, but I will be more careful outdoors, especially at night. And I will hunt down the necromancer, who I shall preemptively name Darkness.
Defenses

I shall record all of my defensive structures as I invent them. First, I built my door. It’s made out of dirt. But hey, what else will be easy to break down and rebuild in a hurry, and keep the bad people away?
Day 4 – Just now did I realize to look back in my notes and write down the border of the roof as a defense. If a monster tries to get on, it will be hard, along with it guarding me against the skeleton’s arrows.
Workbench

I built by first real tool – the workbench. It took 4 blocks of wood, but it was worth it. I shall have many valuables made here, and maybe with this I can make my planned pickaxe, maybe a regular axe, and so much more! I have a new hope brewing within me.
Sticks

I built 4 sturdy sticks that I will implement into my crafting. It took 2 blocks to create 4 sticks, and I feel that, just like the workbench, this will be a vital invention.
Wooden Tools

These tools are the weakest of them all. I can feel it come apart in my hands, but it is the most available to make. I will post results as to how long each of the tools last when made of wood.
Pickaxe

Pickaxes mine through stone even quicker than I expected! This tool will make cave exploring much easier. Although, I wonder if the monsters also dwell down in caves as well. I should be alert at all times, and avoid danger as much as possible.
Axe

Good for chopping down trees! This will make industrializing and deforestation very possible. Trees will bow down before me, and I shall be their ruler! Trees remind are like gentle giants, bearing fruit and shade to those beneath them. They give much and receive nothing in return. They will never be of more use to me than now, being on this island. I shall be able to build many wooden structures. I can expand Fort Feryll, build bridges and dams, and maybe…just maybe…
Shovel

With this tool, I can make enough holes to turn this planet into the moon! It makes drilling for oil very simple. I can clear big plots of land with it, or I could go looking for treasure, or I could even bury Darkness’s body after I’m through with him! So many uses for a shovel, and yet it’s so poor quality. I can’t wait to make a stone or metal one soon.
Nighttime

No, I’m not going to be a moron tonight. As soon as I saw the sun setting, I quit my mining for the day and was ready to go inside my home. But, I wanted something to examine for the night, so I mined what I was sure was bronze. It took longer to mine than expected. I can’t imagine how long it would have taken by hand. anyway, it is rather heavy and bulky, and I don’t know how to get it to its pure form. I will record what I find of it. I also mined a lot of stone, but I will make the items tomorrow morning. For now, I am overcome with sleep.
Okay, I couldn’t sleep for a while. I made a staircase to the roof, so I could see the night sky. I also made a little bit of a border around the roof so I didn’t fall off, but I ran out of wood during the build. I also made a stone pickaxe, as my wooden one was looking a bit worse for the wear. Once I started looking at the sky, I noticed how far away and insignificant the stars looked. Sort of like me on this island. Will anyone ever find me on this island, or will I have to flee it on my own? Then I glanced at the nighttime monsters, and saw a green, plant-like one. It had 4 legs, and no arms. I wondered what these were. I named them Planters.
Day 3 - Work

In the morning, as 2 Planters and a zombie were surrounding my home, the sun came up, and the zombie caught fire! At first I thought that he might catch my house on fire, but he fell on the ground, and died. I wondered why this didn’t happen to Planters. Were they not made by necromancy? I would like to find out if they are Darkness’s minions or not. At the moment, I am stuck on my roof, and am about to attack the 2 Planters outside Fort Feryll.
Planters

It only took a simple plan to kill the planters. I cut a door out of the back of Fort Feryll, so that I may attack them while running backwards, and ran out. They were close behind me, and I swung my axe at one, and it exploded! I flinched when it happened, and I had a remembrance of when I died because of one on day 1. I continued to slaughter the other, and it didn’t explode. I went over to where the other died, and noticed a big gaping crater there! Good thing I didn’t kill him near my home! I should avoid Planters in the future.
Some Stuff Done

Today was a peaceful day. I finished the roof border, mined stone, and made some stone weapons. I plan on making more torches, because it is getting awfully dark in my home. I wonder if I’ll be able to live like this. Monsters every night, pigs and sheep by day. It’s going to become a routine soon. My technology must advance, or I will be stuck here forever. But then again, would that really be such a horrible thing?
Thieves!

During my route back to my house, someone took my bag, and ran off! I would have been able to see and hopefully detain the criminal, but it was pitch dark out, and if I went looking for him, the monsters of the night probably would have killed me. Also, there was a storm tonight, and the roof border got damaged, and so I will need to repair it tomorrow. Will I ever be able to live peacefully here? I think not, since every night I’ll have to keep one eye open to look for raiders wanting to kill me.
Day 4 – Regaining and Regrowing

I managed to get much of the work done today that was lost from the storm and the thief that stole my resources. I swear, if I ever catch that little crook, I’ll strangle him! Then, there’s Darkness. I feel like going up to him and yelling at him to teleport me off of Feryll Isle if he wants to leave so bad. But that would be a bad idea, wouldn’t it?
Also, today I got my flint and tinder back. One of the sheep was walking around with one of those mysterious bags around its neck. The bag looked very old, and rotten. They were both about the size of a coin purse, and they were both around animal’s necks. Did the man who used to live here somehow get these animals to obey him? Or did Darkness possess the animals to steal from him, too?
Granite

By a big sand deposit, I found a pile of what I assume to be granite. What uses will I have for this material? I wonder if I can tools out of it. I also think that this material will be rare, as I haven’t seen it at all before. I will write down further information as I find it regarding granite.
A Deep Cave and a Spider

I found a deep cave today. But it is a long way down, and I’ll have to be careful climbing down it. While building a way down, I saw a GIGANTIC spider down there! I don’t mean to sound frightened, but I am! I am going to need to kill that thing, or my nightmares will become even worse. I will write more when either me or it is dead.
A slightly fictional log of the game Minecraft. I abandoned this one, but now I'm in the mood for another one :D
 
This is my story. I wrote it long time ago when I was in High School. It's a story about the war.
I hope you like it. It is 3000 words long so be careful LOL
Memoirs
His name was Ivan Kondrashchenko. He was an 18 years - old boy, tall as the trees of the surrounding woods. He had lived his whole life in a small town, located in the northern part of the Byelorussian SSR, near Chernobyl. Its name was Slavutych.
Ivan’s parents were as old as the hills near the Dnieper River, but were still full of vitality. However, his father, Aleksandr Kondrashchenko, which had fought in the Great War, had been ill for about 17 years and needed special attention. The year was 1942, and the Second World War had already begun.
Slavutych was near the Dnieper River, and a little walk away from the Ferapont hill. Not regarding the season, Slavutych had a snowed landscape, and provided an excellent living place, due to its excellent location among the Ermolai woods, which provided people with food and wood.
In this town, there lived a few people, Boris Novakovsky, Ivan and his parents, Gennadiya Makaricheva and her daughter, Aleksei Moskalets, and other people, who lived in peace, contributing to the farewell of the community.
Ivan carried on a normal life, just as the other inhabitants of Slavutych. He was now no kid, and worked as a woodcutter, just as his father did. He had to start working when he was 7 years, due to the progress of his father’s disease. That had turned him more mature and conscious towards matters of life. On May 23, 1942, the news had spread out quickly. Germans had taken over Prypiat. Ivan, just as all other Byelorussians, was concerned about the war and wanted to join the army, yet leaving his mother and father alone would not be ethical. When he heard about the German takeover of Prypiat he decided that it was time to act.
Together, with his friends, they decided to go to Prypiat. It was a dangerous journey; however, they carried enough food and water to survive if something happened. According to news, the Soviet army was to fight the Germans at this city, so they wanted to join them at that point. Marianna Makaricheva, Makar Yemelyanev, Boris Novakovsky, Lyubov Shvakova, Darya Zelenskaya and Elizaveta Ryashkina undertook the voyage.
They managed to convince Aleksei Zasekin, the only inhabitant of Slavutych with an automobile, to lend it to them in order to make the voyage much quicker and easier. Also this way they would be able to carry more provisions. However they did not know this decision would be the worst of all their lives.
It is not known what happened to them, however, only a small diary, found on Prypiat, tells the following story.
“My name is Ivan Kondrashchenko. My friends and I, knowing the incidents that have happened at Prypiat, have decided to travel there and join the Soviet forces. We were going on the Aleksei’s old automobile when, from nowhere, a fireball in the sky appeared. It lit the whole road, and, for a moment let us see the German troops on both sides of it. We lost control of the vehicle, the wheels skidded and the shouts of my friends stunned me. A deafening noise continued after the fireball, and at that moment everything became dark. When at last I succeeded in taking off all of the mud that was in my face, I realized I was lying on the ground and next to me there was the body of what seemed Darya, my dear Darya.
I could not move. I lay engrossed, watching her face, that face that I had loved once, that smile to which I smiled once. Suddenly, a strong rock hit me with great strength. I saw a light in the sky, as a huge plane with the swastika drew in its side was lifting. I tried to get up. Dead animals and destroyed vegetation were the evidence of the landmine that our car had hit. I tried to identify the bodies that were next to me, but the only one I knew well enough to know whose corpse it was, was that of my dear Darya. The others were the corpses of the German troops that were on the side of the road – I supposed -. All of them were looking to the sky, as if waiting for someone or something to come and give them hope once again.
Suddenly, from dust, mud and dry blood I heard a sound. A shout or a sigh I do not remember any more. I ran and dug with fear and desperation, to see that what was in the hole was a skull. With no warning, the skull jumped out of the ground. There was now a torn and hurt face. Marianna Makaricheva was there, fighting against the rubbles that were on top of her body. I helped her out of the ground. It was clear that the German’s second offensive was here. Maybe the soldiers were near the surrounding area of the Ferapont hill by now, but it was more probable that they were still waiting for us up ahead.
We looked around us. Sweat and tears in my face and in hers. Then, as if by instinct, I covered her mouth with my hand. I had the feeling that she was about to shout, and I tried to drown her fear in order to not be discovered, but I failed. They must have had heard her shout, as we heard some gunshots and saw a light nearby. We ran. God knows how much, the Devil knows if in circles, but the truth is that it seemed as if we had run for hours.
We arrived between forced breathes and bleeding wounds to a place with far more vegetation where we stopped. Her faltering breath and my heartbeat contrasted with the absolute silence of the woods. We heard footsteps that each time grew stronger and more audible. Marianna took a stone, and I hid behind her trying to protect myself. Between the bushes a figure that seemed human moved. It came closer and Marianna lowered her stone. He was a peasant that surely heard the roar and wanted to help. He had an old and worn out aspect, which contrasted with his smile from which life emanated. He gave us blankets, because night had fallen and cold became unbearable. The starry sky made me think that in the end, Germans and us were the same. Why were we fighting for? Why were we annihilating each other?
We walked behind the old man for approximately twenty minutes. We arrived to a huge mesa in which a little hut could be seen far away. I felt relieved and thought that we were, at last, saved. Inside the cabin, we were surprised. There were four more people inside it. They projected horrifying shadows on the floor, because of the fire in front of them. His wife and daughter – who was approximately five years old- turned around, and stopped talking with the men in front of them and smiled at us. We sat around the fire, which heated my bones. Someone, whose voice I recognized, spoke. “There is no doubt we have been very lucky” He raised his head.
Marianna and I realized at the same time that the one who was talking was Boris Novakovsky and we looked at him with great surprise. We asked him how he had got here.
“Lyuba helped me” He answered. “Without her I could not have arrived alive here.” A smile illuminated behind him. It was her, Lyubov Shvakova. They took off the blankets that covered their entwined bodies, and Marianna and I could see that their faces and bodies were damaged too.
“Just after the accident, we heard some noises. We entered the woods and saw the Nazi troops all over the place” She said. “Then Borya found a track that lead us to Karp Zablosky’s cabin.”
“We also noticed that there were corpses missing, because of the shapes on the ground.” Boris said.
“Who were the survivors?” Marianna asked.
“I do not know, frankly I do not know.” I said, lowering down my gaze, trying to hide my deception, but the truth is that I did not have anything to hide. It had not been my fault. I could not have saved them.
“We must do something. Let’s search for the survivors” Lyubov said, with a petulant air, as it were so easy.
“It is not that simple” Boris answered “but I agree. We have to do something.”
It was, then, already decided; we would go and search for survivors, not knowing if they were already dead. It was a dangerous task; still, it was our moral duty to do it.
We traveled for quite a long distance, trying not to make noise in order not to be detected. Down winding paths and through steep lanes, we walked, risking our life at every single moment. We arrived at the Prypiat River at night and saw two bodies tied to a high pole. We could not recognize who were the persons tied, but were able to distinguish that they were a man and a woman. We swam through the river, being careful in order to not be detected and we realized that they were Makar Yemelyanev and Elizaveta Ryashkina. Over their heads there was a sign, where something in German could be read. There was a note above their heads with German words written on it. None of us knew what they meant, and we were afraid.
Suddenly, when Marianna saw her friend’s face, she tried to save her and came out of the river. Marianna quickly reached the kind of crucifix in which she was hanging of. We could not stop her, because we could be discovered. Elizaveta desperately, and with a shout of terror in her eyes, opened her mouth to warn Marianna. “Marianna! No!” An abrupt explosion killed Marianna and Elizaveta.
We waited in a small hill near the river until it got dark. I do not know how we stood the cold. Luckily, that night there were no stars, and clouds were our allies. Carefully we went down the river and untied Makar. After that, we carried him to the old man’s cabin.
Ruins and flames were instead of the cabin. We searched for the old man, his wife or his kid. Then, Boris felt a hard pull in his pants. He turned quickly. He hit a little body with a stone that he had tied to a stick. He had just killed Karp’s daughter. Because of fear maybe, because of anguish maybe, but the truth was that the circumstances did not deserved other kind of action.
Crouched down, was lying the assassin, if that is how he may be called. Another figure, crouched down too, passed her arm through his shoulders. Both of them contemplated the product of a shared desperation.
“We cannot stay here.” A voice said. It was Makar, who was conscious once again. He touched my arm and turned around. “I’ve seen what they plan. They want to take over Slavutych right now.”
“Slavutych! I hope my parents are safe. We cannot stay here; we must go there and stop them”
“It is not safe to go there. I have got a plan” Boris said. “If we could go around the river, maybe we would be able to get to Slavutych before they do.”
Everyone agreed. Boris knew the territory, because he used to play there as a young kid, after his father died in the Great War. We traveled to the Ferapont hill, located in the eastern part of the Dnieper. There, a great snow storm trapped us. We tried to stay together, however, the snow made us stay away. We could not find Boris. He had lost his way.
We shouted, without worrying of what could happen to us. We knew that, if he was dead, we would have his same destiny. After hours of yelling his name, we saw him. The storm had ceased, but the sunlight reflected by the snow did not let us see clearly. I only saw two shadows, a little and a big one. The big one was of that who we searched, because he waved a mace made with a stick and a rock. He hit repeatedly a body that lay in the snow, when he fell backwards suddenly. I do not remember hearing anything, neither Lyubov’s screams, nor the shot that made him fell, not even the escape of the killer who pretended to get away.
We arrived to where our friend was. Faltering words, extended sobs and eternal kisses; were the only things that took place between the two lovers. Then I realized the reason. A blood stain, eternal as our suffering, emanated from his chest. I kneeled down too. With a trustful gesture he gave me the scapular that hanged from his neck. He told Makar: - Ta-take care of i-it.
I looked at Lyubov but could not see her eyes, because, full of tears, they were covered by her hands. She was trying to hide them from the terrible truth. She looked at me, and with a language that only took place between my eyes and her dark ones, full of mourning, told me we had to leave. I nodded with my head as if I had received an order, and got up. – Let’s go, Makar. He was so shocked that he merely followed me.
I remembered those who had recently fallen. Their hands were still entwined, and their hearts united. That had been the final destiny of those two lovers, happy as ever, with a death of the most worthy that could exist: for love. Her hands now are still over his chest, and melt in a same blood and in a same name; love’s name.
I do not dare to say that did not matter anymore, but, as every man, he only thinks of saving himself when his life is in danger. We left them, forgotten, and in fate’s hands, while we continued with our journey.
We crossed the river and saw Slavutych in the distance. Smoke and fire illuminated the horizon and I was horrified. We ran to the town. It was a few hours until we reach the outskirts of the town. From nowhere, German soldiers ambushed us. We were forced to go to the city’s plaza. On our way there, we saw all the destruction the Germans had done. Slaughter, mourning and pain were everywhere. Raped women and assassinated children occupied the streets. I closed my eyes. I did not want to find my mother and father, because the idea of them escaping alive could be possible.
They lined me and my friends in a tall wall, one after the other. In the wall there were also the other inhabitants of Slavutych. Suddenly, I heard a familiar shout. It was my mother. She tried to hug me, and I tried to calm her down, but the soldiers separated us. She managed to escape from her oppressor, and ran towards me. She caressed my face and I kissed her. A tear rolled down her cheek. “Do not cry dear mother… We will be able to overpass this situation; we have always been able to.” My father looked at me from far away. I smiled at him. Suddenly, terror took possession of his sight. My mother’s mouth exhaled a little sound. I could not hear it. I had blood all over me. Her eyes went blank. She was dead.
My father ran towards the soldier that had killed her. He hit the assassin, screaming, and full wrath. Two more soldiers grabbed him by his hands, stopping him from moving. The German soldier stood up. He spit on my father’s face and hit him once, twice, three times; each time harder and harder. My father had no strength anymore. The German soldier took a knife out of his pocket and cut his throat. I could not do anything because I was being grabbed.
Then, the German soldiers took out their guns. I was forced back to my place in the wall, and had my hands tied. All of the executors aimed at us. I preferred not to close my eyes. We had no voice anymore. We could not fight against this injustice. A deafening noise came out of the cannons.
I remembered her eyes; dark as night and dark as loneliness. She was still there, telling me to leave. He lay down the snow, and blood covered the ground. I gave him the scapular and he smiled at me, I had done well. However I thought of nothing but of her eyes. As I approached her, darkness grew stronger. It was as if I was looking into her soul, which was full of suffering. I fell into her eyes, which were each time deeper and darker. There was no way out. I did not try to struggle and let death guide me through the obscure passages of her eyes. That was all.
I fell onto my knees. There was my father, there was my mother. There was Makar, Marianna, Lyuba and Borya. There was Karp, frozen to death after killing Boris; there was his wife and his daughter. The scapular was in my hand. I raised it and, with a final effort, screamed.
These are my memoirs. These are the memoirs of all of us who decided to go to Prypiat that day. These are the memoirs of those who decided to die for love. These are the memoirs of the ones that fell in war fighting for freedom.”
 
When I start writing, I write.

This is a story I had to write for English class. Input would be very much appreciated :) And sorry about the paragraph issue. It would take quite a while to fix, which is why it will stay unresolved.

The Drug
By Ian Bourn

1.

Jay could not remember how many times he had heard the wake-up bell.
"Get up!" yelled the guards to the inmates; nobody was allowed to sleep in. As Jay sat up in his cell, he saw the burly guard hit the bars blocking him from the outside world. "Get to breakfast, now!" barked a guard.
Jay could barely muster the energy to open his eyes, as he had been deprived of sleep from a massive migraine. But he got up still because he knew that if he didn't, he would have no food to eat until lunch.
As the prisoners started filing out of their separate cells, the guards on duty started herding them to the mess hall. Yet again, the food was an unidentifiable mush. Once Jay received his food, he went in search of his faithful friend Peter, who had accompanied Jay in his seven years of federal prison. Once he found Peter, they both sat down at a nearby table and started chatting about other inmates, those on parole, those who were sentenced to extra years, and the new guys.
"Did you hear about the drug that they're testing on select prisoners?" asked Peter out of the blue.
Jay dropped his fork in his food. "I'm sorry?" he said through a mouthful of something that tasted somewhat like apples.
"There's a new drug they're testing out on select prisoners," stated Peter matter-of-factly. "The FDA is trying to get it approved and on the market in a few months. But, they're testing it on prisoners to make sure that it's safe. I heard that it messes with your brain and nothing like it has ever been here before. I also heard they're being given it without their knowledge."
"That's atrocious!" yelled Jay. He saw out of the corner of his eye a guard glaring at him. "They can't just do that to us! Where's the humanity?"
"I do not know. I really do not."
Just then, a whistle blew and soon they, along with others, were being herded to the prison yards. Amidst the apparent confusion, Jay soon forgot what his friend told him as he was being pushed into the blistering heat along with the many others.

2.


Jay walked around aimlessly for a little while. He hadn't felt like talking to Peter; he had been a little sick since breakfast. He wasn't well liked amongst the others either, so he decided to just stand against the wall to the institution, trying to look cool.
A few uneventful minutes passed as the sweat drenched the back of his neck. All of a sudden, he heard an alien voice speak in his ear out of the blue. "Hey there, Jay," it said.
Jay thought he had jumped at least twenty feet in the air. He whirled around, looking for the source of the noise. To his left side, he saw a man, moderate height and very thin, staring straight at him. He was wearing a black suit, the kind that Jay saw his father wear as he left for work as a child.
"Wh-Who are you?" asked Jay quizzically. "Are you a lawyer or something?"
The man chortled to himself lightly. "Oh, nothing of the sort," said the man. His voice was surprisingly deep. "I find lawyers to be a bit dull. No, I have come here to give you a sort of... a sort of blessing."
"Oh yeah? What kind of blessing?" challenged Jay, although caution was apparent in his tone.
"I specialize in opportunities. Special opportunities, to be exact." Jay was unconvinced. "Jay, you have been selected to receive three wishes."
Jay didn't believe what he was hearing. "So you're saying that you're a genie?" He didn't even bother concealing his laughter. He also couldn't help thinking about where else he heard the word select that day.
"Well, yes and no. While I do specialize in granting three wishes, just like a genie, I am not the traditional genie you humans have made us out to be, as I do not come out of a bottle, nor am I wearing strange clothing."
"Considering where you're at, I would say that your clothing is strange." The man still kept his poker face throughout Jay's retorts. "Also, how can I be sure that you are telling the truth?"
"Well, for one, you're the only one that can see me."
"That doesn't prove anything."
"True." The man gazed off for a few moments before continuing. "I suppose I could show you what power I'm capable of." Then, with a snap of his sinister fingers, all of the men except for the man and Jay fell to the ground.
"Wh-What did you DO?!" yelled Jay frantically. He was starting to become a bit hysterical. Then, he asked more warily, "Did you - Did you kill them?
"Oh, nothing of the sort. I only knocked them out. I was just displaying my power." As he finished his sentence, the men soon started getting up off of the dirt and carrying on their conversations as if nothing had happened. "That's just a little bit of my power. I could do much more if I so desired." At this, Jay's eyes widened so much that you could clearly see the whites of them. "It's just a good thing that I have been trained to use my powers for good. Which is why I am giving you such prestigious gifts."
Jay couldn't help but marvel at this. He, a no good criminal, being given three wishes? He was convinced that it was a miracle of some sorts. "So," he said slowly, "How am I to use these wishes?"
"Oh, just how you would imagine," the man said simply. "You say 'I wish' and then recite your wish, and it will automatically be granted. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be on my way. I have other matters to attend to at the moment." And he soon started to fade away.
"Wait!" yelled Jay, extending his arm as some other prisoners stared at him oddly. "Who are you and why was I chosen?"
The man uttered a deep, hearty laugh. "You will learn soon enough," he said as he disappeared with a somewhat morbid grin on his face. Jay then stood there, grasping the air the man had been standing in moments before.

3.


Jay contemplated what had just occurred as he was herded yet again back to his cell. What if it was all my imagination? he wondered. Genies and wishes... Bahh! He concluded that he was just tired or he had a vivid day dream. But he couldn't help think about if it was real... He could easily take over the world with just a measly three wishes!
His mind wandered around for a while before he was pushed into his cell and locked in. Yeesh, he thought, I hate the guards here. I hate having to be here. If only I could somehow get out of this rat hole... His slow yet eager mind then realized that if he really could wish for anything, he could get out of there!
"I wish I could break out of here," he said aloud to himself. He knew that there was only a very little chance of this succeeding, but he had to try.
All of a sudden, he heard his cell, as well as the others down the corridor that he lived on, open. He was free. His heart pounding, he staggered over to the opening as well as the others. All of a sudden, the ground shook before them and they heard a huge explosion come from the floor below. As they ran downstairs to see what had happened, they saw a giant, gaping hole in the wall, and some guards were blown away from the impact. As the prisoners were trying to figure out what was happening, Jay motioned for them and cried, "Follow me!" as he ran toward the opening. He heard the footfalls of the people behind him as they rejoiced in their sudden freedom.

He ran for what seemed like hours. The former prisoners all went in their separate directions, all running for something or for someone. Jay, knowing the geography of the land, went towards the suburban wasteland town known as Rodeo. He would frequent trips with his family to there as a child to visit his grandparents.
After a while, the outline of houses came into view. He slowed his pace; he didn't need to go as fast for now. The siren had been destroyed in the explosion, so he was safe for the moment.
As he was approaching the outskirts of town, he realized that he was still in his prison jumpsuit! As he went looking around for something to wear, he spotted a GoodWill bin after a few minutes. Inside of it, he saw a pair of tattered clothes, apparently years old. Well, better than nothing, he supposed. He took off his ugly orange clothing and abandoned them as he put on the ripped jeans and stained plaid.
In the summer heat, he walked around aimlessly, looking for someplace to stay. He came across a motel, and decided that staying there would be the best option at the moment. Although, as he was walking towards the entrance, he remembered how ill-equipped he was. He cursed himself for his laziness, and saw out of the corner of his eye the front desk clerk staring at him out of the window. He mouthed the word Sorry to her and went around the building to the back. He then thought about the gravity of trouble he could be in. I could be given the death penalty, he realized. He didn't want to think too much about it, as the thought was starting to make him even more sick. He had to think about how to get in there first. I'll ask for a million dollars, he thought happily, making himself out to be more clever than he actually was.
Once he arranged the words he wanted to use, he uttered, "I wish for a million dollars." The next moment, he heard a thump and saw a big, brown bag to the right of him that wasn't there before. He greedily walked over to the bag and unzipped it. What he found inside was the most amazing sight he had ever bestowed his eyes upon before.
Inside, one-hundred dollar bills were everywhere and they filled the entire bag to the brim. A few wads of cash fell out of it. Extremely happy now, he stuffed the money back into the satchel and hurried off. He couldn't help but think about how great his luck was that day.
As he walked to the front, he saw the lady from the inside of the motel staring out at him again. He walked in, pride showing on his gleaming face.
"Hello," she said cautiously, "Welcome to the Riverside Inn Motel. How can I help you?"
"Yes, I would like to get a room for one, please," he said as he unzipped the bag and took out one wad of cash and put it on the desk. The woman's eyes popped out at the money. "Keep the change," he said.
"Yes, yes, yes, thank you very much, sir," she said, trying to get a hold of herself. "Here's the key to room 11."
"Thank you," Jay said as he grabbed the key and stalked off, bag in hand.

4.


As Jay unlocked the door to his old motel room, the waft of old food and trash bags rushed over him. He didn't mind though. He was free.
He finally was able to navigate himself around the dark room after a few minutes and found the bed. He was exhausted from the day's journey, and all he wanted was some rest. He dropped the heavy money on the ground and passed out on the bed.

When he woke up, he couldn't even remember what time or day it was. He only knew that he had a very, very painful migraine. As he became more awake, he remembered what had transpired the day before. He smiled a cold smile as he remembered what had been accomplished.
Trying to get his mind off of the pain, he turned on the small antennae television set in the room. It was very grainy and pixilated, but it would suffice. There were only a few channels on; NBC, ABC, FOX, and the local news station. As he quickly surfed through the channels with the obsolete remote, he stopped on the news and saw overhead footage of a prison.
Jay's prison, to be exact.
He quickly sat up, clutching onto the bed sheets before he could fall face forward off of the end of the bed. He watched as the reporter surveyed the explosion and talked urgently into the camera.
"...and here is where all of the prisoners had gotten out, John, and there seemed to be a malfunction with the security settings. There is no known reason for the explosion, but authorities believe it to have been a revolt amongst the captives. They do know, however, that they were led out of the wrecked building by a man named Jay Vertrees."
Jay's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He now realized the gravity of the situation that beheld him. I'm an outlaw, he thought with grim realization.
He quickly sprang up from the stained bed and yelled, "Hey! Whatever you are! Come out here and talk with me!"
He then heard someone behind him say, "There's no need to shout." Jay whirled around to see the man staring straight at him with his cold, hard eyes, as if there wasn't a worry in the world.
Jay approached the man and pointed a long, bony finger at him. "You!" he said angrily. "You knew that this would happen! You knew that I would be an outlaw, an outcast to society!" Jay started to get hysterical again. "I'm never going to be able to see my friends, my parents, or anybody for that matter ever again..." He wept quietly to himself for a few short minutes. As he started to gradually calm himself down, he thought of something. "But... I have one wish left. I could reverse this all and it would be as if nothing had ever happened!"
"Oh, you silly humans," the man said with a chuckle. "You all have the same misconceptions. You see, nobody can go back on one of their wishes. It is against the rules."
"Against the rules?" wailed Jay. "What do you mean, against the rules?" He then leaped at the man, intending to do some serious physical harm to him. But, the moment that he had jumped off of the ground, the man disappeared and reappeared next to the television, causing Jay to hit his head on the lamp and breaking the bulb. Dark blood oozed from his dirty temple. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," advised the man. "I'm not always merciful," he said darkly.
Jay stopped in his place after he regained his composure. He thought about attacking again, but he wasn't too fond of the idea of going clear through the TV set. Instead, he settled with just glaring menacingly.
"Let me explain to you how this works," the man said slowly and maliciously. "I provide the wishes, and you use them. No wishing to reverse events, and no wishing for more wishes. It's as simple as that.
"But my life --
"I know your life is ruined. It was never said that these gifts would help you in any way. I just gave them to you. I was only following orders. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Have a good day." And with that, the man bade Jay farewell, and started to disappear again.
"Wait!" Jay cried, but before he could get a grasp on the man's nicely trimmed suit, he was gone. Jay wailed at the sky, desperate for a redo and cursing his ill-fate. He then remembered the TV, and tried to calm himself down with that. But, as he was watching the news, his life took another turn for the worse.
"Thank you, Jackie, for that stunning report," stated the anchorman with a sad tone. On to other news, a famous charity here in the state of Colorado, dedicated to feeding poor African children and their families, has gone bankrupt and has shut down. For unknown reasons, almost all of their profits have vanished from thin air it appears. A million dollars exactly is now gone, leaving the charity with only a few hundred dollars. Now to Kendra for the weather."
Jay couldn't believe it. Not only was he an outlaw, but he had stolen from a charity! He couldn't stand this outrageousness, and out of pure fury, threw the remote at the TV. The screen shattered and made a large crashing noise. He then curled up into the fetal position and wept again.

5.

Jay didn’t know for how long he lay on that filthy motel bed. He only knew that he was extremely miserable.
He slowly rose from his bed, wiping the tears and sweat off of his red face. No wishing to reverse events, no wishing for more wishes, and you must use every wish, he remembered the man say. Jay knew that trying to reverse events would be futile. Jay also knew that even if he wasn’t in his right mind or it was acceptable, he would never wish for more wishes. This was a curse and a curse only. He could only think of one thing that he would want to wish for, and that was not something he’d want to do. But, he knew that there was no choice. And if he did end up wishing for something else, what would he utterly ruin this time around?
“I wish… I wish that my wife would come back.”
A few moments later, he heard a sharp rapping noise emanating from the door. He staggered off after it, fully aware of his current appearance. He threw the door open with brutal strength to find a small, frail woman standing there.
She was just as he remembered her being. She was short and thin, with very pale skin. She had beautifully bountiful blonde hair, and she stood with a patient, innocent grace. The only feature that was different in her stunning appearance was her eyes. They were gray, cloudy, and filled with terrible knowledge.
“Catherine,” Jay said gently. He held out his arms, and she slowly tip-toed towards his embrace. He was somewhat happy that there was at least one person in the world that would hopefully understand him to some extent. But that rejoiced feeling faded away almost instantly once he felt her.
She was unbearably cold to the touch. She was colder than ice, and desperation and despair emanated from her once graceful body.
"Catherine?"
She said nothing. She only led him to the bed and sat him down.
"How... How are you, honey?" Jay asked warily. Catherine was still quiet. She hadn't spoken a word. Instead, she sat there and stared at Jay with her horribly morbid, gray eyes.
Jay tried to approach Catherine with more questions, but they were all met with an unbearable answer: silence. After about an hour of this, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, her head resting on Jay's shoulder.
Jay, in the back of his mind, knew that there would be no going back for her. She was irrevocably scarred from death, and was never to be healed. The more he festered on that idea, the bigger the realization became. Although he didn't want to accept this brutal fact, he soon succumbed and came to the conclusion that there was nothing left for him. He would be an outlaw with nobody to love. Knowing that there was no hope left for him after all, he got up and let Catherine fall to the bed with a light thud.
Jay then grabbed the keys off of the top of the TV and set off to the small motel lobby. He gently pulled the door open, sulking to the front desk. There, he met the same lady that gave him his room before (Jay had no idea how long ago that had been). As he came into a close view, the lady jumped in surprise and opened her eyes extremely wide. Jay ignored her reaction and then asked, "Do you have any rope perchance?" The lady nodded quietly and went into the backroom. After a minute or two, she quickly scurried back, with a rope about 3 feet long swung across her shoulder. "Will this do, sir?" she asked in a frenzied tone. Jay nodded and took the rope from her and murmured a small thanks. As he walked back to the door slowly, he heard the lady hurriedly grabbing the phone and dialing in three digits.
As Jay walked back into his motel room after unlocking the door shortly beforehand, he started to look for something to hang the rope on. He quickly found a ceiling fan and got to work making a noose, or suicide knot. He then looped the rope around one of the arms of the fan and wrapped one part of it around his neck. As he got done with that, he then climbed onto the small, wooden desk that held the TV. He then jumped off, and hung with himself suspended barely off of the ground for a few minutes. As he was starting to really lose air, he then heard somebody call out to him; I am nobody, I am nothing. I never have existed, and never shall exist. The voice was so realistic, he couldn't believe that he only heard it in his head. He soon recognized the voice belonging to the strange man in the suit that granted him the three wishes.
And Jay then dreadfully realized: he had been given the drug.
 
Last edited:
(R) said:
Very well done. Some of the best original content I have read in a long time. I only wish it were longer. I really enjoyed that. Keep up the good work.
Click to expand...

Thanks a lot :) My parents say I have a real knack for writing. And it's so short because I had to do an oral presentation for it, so I couldn't keep it too long. I may work on it again sometime in the future.
 
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