Hey all! I have a really great prompt for you all to do today. I did this one in my creative writing class and had THE BEST time writing it. I love the story I wrote for it, too. I pasted part of it. Not going to lie, I got carried away. Tell me what you think! Let's roll...
A
cacophony of explosions rocketed me backwards into the maple bookshelf in my
bedroom. My head screamed in pain. My hands shot up to my head and cradled it
as my knees pulled into my chest. I layed there in a ball as the world around
me was destroyed—again.
The
bombings had been going on for days. I couldn’t remember a day where there
wasn’t some sort of disaster or outbreak. It had been seven days since I left
my home—one full week of solitary confinement. Although I guess I could leave
if I wanted. I just had no reason to walk out into the war, or risk my life by
contracting an illness or disease or whatever it was they were fighting with.
After six rounds of explosions the world around me quieted.
It was too silent. I was paranoid at this point. I almost came out of my ball
in the corner of the room, but then the sirens came. Wailing in the distance
and getting closer, cop cars, ambulances and whatever other emergency vehicles
zoomed through the streets.
I could smell the burning of human flesh nearby. I
couldn’t react—my body frozen in fear and self-preservation. I squeezed my eyes
shut harder and tried to count to one hundred without the sounds of screaming
making me stop.
As I hit the lucky number one hundred, I slowly opened my
eyes. My house is only one story—an old ranch with a rickety front porch and a
screened door that bangs with the wind. A loud bang shot back to me. I tried to
convince myself that it was just the oldness of the wood creaking. I tried to
convince myself that it was just the screen door opening an inch or two and
then shutting. But what I knew were footsteps got closer and closer.
I scooted on the wood floor of my bedroom against the
wall until I felt the familiar paneling of the closet. Creak—another footstep,
this time just outside of the bedroom door. I rolled backwards into the closet
and pushed myself until my back was flush against the back wall, clothes
hanging and whipping me in the face.
I covered my mouth with my hands, worried that my ragged
breaths would be too loud and the intruder would hear. A warm tear trickled
down my face, stopping at my pointer finger below my nose, but I didn’t wipe it
away.
“Make sure you clear it.” The door to my bedroom slammed
against the wall beside it. Crumbles from the wall landed on the hard wood,
clinking like rainbow sprinkles. My heart jumped into my throat and nausea
bloomed in the pit of my stomach.
The same deep, gruff voice mumbled something and then
stomped through my bedroom. His steps sounded like he was wearing combat boots,
each move a mini explosion. He huffed under his breathe, even his exhale
sounding vicious and I could hear a knee crack. He became oddly quiet and I
fought the urge to look out from the closet.
“I swear I have to do everything myself.” My bed creaked
and a foot stomped. I faintly smelled something sour and bitter, like sweat and
vodka. I struggled to hold back a sob as his boots got scarily close to me. The
clothes above me swayed, a soft wind trickling over my face. I couldn’t move.
“You didn’t think we’d leave you?” His arms wrapped
around my shoulders and two more hands got my legs. “We’ve got a live one!” the
man yelled and two more sets of feet came towards me, heavy and strong.
“She sure is pretty.” The new voice was nasally and
wicked. Just the sound had goose bumps prickling to life on my arms and spine.
Someone touched my face and covered it with a silky piece of material. The
hands near my face smelled like raw sewage. They were calloused and hard, needy
with each touch against me.
I
didn’t fear my life anymore. I feared what they would do if they let me live. I
never once heard a female voice. Never once felt like one of the men’s voices
was trustworthy.
A
man hauled me over his back, my face hitting his fat covered spine and my ass
in the air. In this vulnerable state, I just wanted to pull my shirt down to
cover my midriff. I wanted to fix my pants that were around my waist, showing
just the start of my butt. But before I had the chance, my arms were zip tied
together and my ankles as well. The screech of the white piece being shoved
into the hole made me feel more out of control than anything in my life before
this moment.
The
man carrying me stomped through what I knew was my hallway. He didn’t detour or
walk around my house. He went straight through my rickety old screen door. It
crashed shut behind us and I heard another man’s feet catch and a bang from
behind me.
“Fuck,
Jim. You damn shut the door in my face.”
“Oh,
screw off. I’ve got the girl. Hold your own damn door.”
Suddenly,
Jim, stumbled forward and my head slammed against his back. His arms tightened
around my waist and I wished that he’d just drop me. But without arms and legs,
I don’t think I’d get far.
“Where
do you want her?” Jim asked.
“Just
shove her in the back seat. Put her in the middle and I’ll sit right next to
her.” A finger traced the outline of my hip and trailed up to my face, making
sure to pause along the way at my breasts. His finger got lost in my hair and I
groaned. I screamed bloody murder. Someone slapped me in the face—not Jim,
since he couldn’t reach. My cheek ignited in flames, a sharp fire where his
palm connected.
I
couldn’t hold back the sobs and I didn’t have to be quiet anymore. I struggled
in Jim’s arms, crying as I knew that no matter what happened, I wouldn’t be
free. I bucked my hips up and thrust my shoulders forward, hoping to flip over
and at least stand alone. Jim pulled me down and cradled me in his arms. My
right ear was pressed against his chest, his heart thumping steadily. His arm
was behind my head, holding my shoulders, and his other arm was under my knees.
“Just
get in the car before you get yourself hurt,” Jim said. His knee cracked as he
felt his arms release me into a leather seat. The car rumbled to life as one of
the doors shut from the front. It was painfully dark and I wished someone would
just take the blindfold off of me. At least if I could see these people then
I’d be able to identify them. A grim thought floated through my head—I might
not make it to that point.
I
tried to sit up, but it was impossible without my arms. I ended up only making
myself more available to these men by lying flat on the bench seat in the back
of the car. A loud bang against the car jolted me and I quieted trying to
listen to what was going on.
“Get
in the other car and meet us there.” It was Jim who spoke first.
“I
want to play with the lil’ lady.”
“Well,
I said get in the other car.” Another bang against the car. I could only
imagine the dents in the side of it. Jim’s voice was getting angrier by the
second, the gruffness returning.
“What
the fuck is your problem? This is what we do now. New world order and all that
shit. You’re the jackass in charge.”
“I’m
pretty sure if I was you, I’d listen to the jackass in charge.” Jim exhaled.
“Now get in the other car and get the fuck out of here.” For a moment, there
was just silence. And then another hit. And then the heavy boots retreated. The
man in the driver’s seat mumbled under his breath, something about hurrying
this along, I gathered. And then I felt someone beside me, and I honestly
wasn’t sure if it was Jim, or the other guy.
“Drive
to the docks.” It was Jim. For some reason, I felt relieved that it was Jim and
not the other guy. I’m not sure if it was the mere fact that I knew Jim’s name
or what, but I was thankful he was beside me.
“Got
it.” The driver’s tone was clipped, like he knew the drill and didn’t need to
be reminded where to go. His voice was quiet, soft, not menacing or evil like
most of the others. It didn’t mean I trusted him, but I’d rather have him near
me then the man who wanted to play with me.
Jim’s
hands touched my shoulders and I flinched backwards. I used my knees to kick
against the seat and I pushed myself until I was against the side door. I felt
the indent of his weight in the seat as he hovered above me. His breath was on
my face, and oddly enough, it was minty.
“I
won’t hurt you.” He sounded sincere, but I didn’t believe him. The car bounced
as we ran something over. All I could think of was a body being squished. Jim’s
hands found my face, and he gently lifted the fold off my eyes.
Whoa. I wanna read the rest of that!
ReplyDeleteI'm going to split it into chapters and post it on wattpad and probably here. I really LOVED writing this and I want to go on with it. Keep checkin' back for more. :) Thanks for stopping bye!
DeleteThis prompt deserves a sequel
ReplyDeleteI'm actually going to write a serial starting with what I've written on Wattpad! It'll be completely free and so far, 8 episodes, long :) I fell in love with the story.
Delete