I wrote this story for English a month or two ago, and I knew that you would want to read it. Just knew with my sixth sense like that. Actually, with all my extra senses obtained at quiz bowl, I think it's like my ninth sense. Something like that. Consider it a Christmas present of sorts.
He walked out of the barn, staring down, his boots making the dust swirl up and disappear. There was an eerie calm around, like a twister just passed through. There never was that calm without the storm first, but he wished there could be. He never really regretted it, he only wished that he could be calm without hurting someone first. The calm never lasted either. It was a momentary thing, a momentary break from the constant anger that engulfed his life. He'd never been truly happy since he was a kid, he thought. Never that feeling that there is absolutely nothing to worry about, that feeling that everything is going to be alright. He put his paw on the door handle and turned it slowly. He pushed and walked in. The others were there, playing cards and talking. He pulled up a chair, the legs screeching on the rough floor. They were talking about something and he was pretending to be interested. He had gotten good at pretending lately. Too good, really. He just sat for a few minutes, listening and contemplating. There was a high-pitched scream from the barn. Now was the time to look surprised, he told himself, and did so in such a false way it made him feel sick. He followed the other men out to the barn to see what was the matter. They were standing there in shock, trying to find who they could blame for the body hanging, just hanging there. This couldn't have been the first time that someone had been found dead, no one was shocked enough. It wasn't a regular occurrence, but this couldn't have been the first time. "She did it herself." One of the men said definitively. "No, there's no way she could have gotten up there. Someone tied her up and then hung her." They kept on talking amongst themselves, and he realized that he had to get out of there. How could he do it though, without anyone noticing that he had gone and getting suspicious? He could start a fire to distract everyone, but someone would see him doing it. This was the problem. The calm ended so soon and the panic set in again. This was what he got for taking his anger out on other people. This was what he kept on doing, letting himself get out of control again and again. "You know that new guy, the big one who's a little dim?" Reality crashed back in. "Yeah." "He's not here, is he?" "I think he said he was goin' to see someone." "Right." He said. Everyone knew what the man meant. "He did it. He must've done it." "We'll go north, you four go south. There's no reason to go to town, nobody with sense would run to a town where they might be recognized. They'd go off somewhere, the wilderness, you know. That's where we'll find 'em." He said. He had a plan now, it was going to be okay. He headed his group out, south. After a while he got far enough away, out of sight and earshot that he could just go in the river. Just into the river and disappear. | |
4 Fab Fans:
nice piece of writing. Is this for your nano of what??
This was my steinbeck imitation story
nice.
very steinbeck-y....(?)
Thanks. I am touched by the fact that you were moved enough by my story to make up words.
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