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A Short Story : The Story Of The Story

Decent Essays

As Bahauddin pushed the door to the shaft as slow as molasses falls out or the bottle to make it so no one would be able to hear the creak of the rusted and moldy hinges that are barely holding the door up. He could see the invaders about 100 yards away from him consumed in their fighting as if there's nothing else worth paying attention to. He slowly began to climb out of the shaft he realized that the lanterns were giving off light in the smoke of the cannons. He could hear the invaders yelling things such as “Over there in the smoke, it could be one of the natives,” said a man with voices that were as deep at the salt caverns.
Bahauddin quickly blew out the light and bolted in the other direction, holding on the keys around his belt. Bahauddin ran for another 50 feet before he could run no more and started to walk. Once the smoke was past him, he could see it all, his city, or what was left of it to be precise. Most of the homes were untouched, but the shops were destroyed by the cannons. He walked down the street that two weeks ago was buzzing with people having a nice lunch with there children or spouse, It was practically gone. He walked past the field of animals and onto his property and down into his family's hidden bunker. There asleep on the ground on a blanket was his beautiful wife who he loved more that life itself and his baby girl who had Bahauddin wrapped around her little fingers. He carefully woke up his wife who greeted him with as much

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