You finish it
Alright. I'm going to devise a random story beginning, and if you'd like to, finish it for me in a comment! If the story beginning I wrote stinks worse than moldy bologna and fish, feel free to let me know that this was not one of my best story starters. Well, here goes nothing! (Actually here goes a lot, but I digress.)
I leaned back against the old, molding wooden boards, my heart racing. Every breath hurt to inhale and exhale, but I made it; I was still alive. And more importantly, Ella was too. Ella made little whimpering sounds beside me, her tiny body shivering while tears ran down her face. The run to this barn had been too much strain on her, but what other choice did I have? When someone plants a bomb underneath your house and leaves you a nice happy yellow sticky note on the front door saying that there was only 10 seconds left before it would explode, you don't think. You just act. And act I did. The question is: Why on earth was it my house that was targeted with an explosive? My family's not rich. My family only consists of Ella and myself; two sisters forced now to leave home. We've never hurt someone, never did we break a rule. And yet it's our little cottage that was attacked. The only thing left to be thankful for now is that I managed to keep her and myself alive. I can't die now; I'm the only family she has left. Ella's cries bring me back to the present, and I rubbed my exhausted eyes. "Are we ever going to go back?" She asked me, her blue eyes large with fright. I smoothed down her wispy blonde locks. "I don't think we can, Elle. I just don't think we can. There's a bad person out there trying to do bad things, it's not safe anymore." She nodded sleepily, my words sinking in as her tired little body gave in to sleep. I sighed and laid back on a mound of old straw, hoping to use it for my bed. I know that I only lay down for a few minutes, perhaps less. The only thing that my shattered brain can remember now is a hand reaching in through the doorway, clamping down on Ella's frail one. Her scream replays in my mind like a broken record. Day in and day out. The worst part is: there's nothing I can do to save her. She's gone. But I have to do something. I'm the only family she has left.
I leaned back against the old, molding wooden boards, my heart racing. Every breath hurt to inhale and exhale, but I made it; I was still alive. And more importantly, Ella was too. Ella made little whimpering sounds beside me, her tiny body shivering while tears ran down her face. The run to this barn had been too much strain on her, but what other choice did I have? When someone plants a bomb underneath your house and leaves you a nice happy yellow sticky note on the front door saying that there was only 10 seconds left before it would explode, you don't think. You just act. And act I did. The question is: Why on earth was it my house that was targeted with an explosive? My family's not rich. My family only consists of Ella and myself; two sisters forced now to leave home. We've never hurt someone, never did we break a rule. And yet it's our little cottage that was attacked. The only thing left to be thankful for now is that I managed to keep her and myself alive. I can't die now; I'm the only family she has left. Ella's cries bring me back to the present, and I rubbed my exhausted eyes. "Are we ever going to go back?" She asked me, her blue eyes large with fright. I smoothed down her wispy blonde locks. "I don't think we can, Elle. I just don't think we can. There's a bad person out there trying to do bad things, it's not safe anymore." She nodded sleepily, my words sinking in as her tired little body gave in to sleep. I sighed and laid back on a mound of old straw, hoping to use it for my bed. I know that I only lay down for a few minutes, perhaps less. The only thing that my shattered brain can remember now is a hand reaching in through the doorway, clamping down on Ella's frail one. Her scream replays in my mind like a broken record. Day in and day out. The worst part is: there's nothing I can do to save her. She's gone. But I have to do something. I'm the only family she has left.
....."I'm the only family she has left" (repeated to find a good starting point)
ReplyDeleteI shake unsteadily when I kneel to sit on my knees and contemplate what had just happened. Thinking and thinking is all that happens for a while until I conclude that I don't feel like thinking anymore. The only thoughts that catch my mind are blurred; like a tragic memory lost ,but never missed. Now all that's heard is her horrific, choked scream playing over and over again. The realization that I'm pulling my hair out flows through me while I try to pick a side. Is her scream echoing off the barn, is she still near enough for me to save her, or is it the sad fact that my exhausted and scarred mind is playing tricks on me?
I spend the next many years searching for Ella, trying to see if I can find any DNA or maybe even her in the flesh. By the time I turn thirty I've lost hope. I've stopped searching for her/ How could she still be alive? The sad thing is... she was the only family I had left.
@ Christine
DeleteThat was a fabulous ending to the story! Thanks for participating!