Creative Writing: Murphy's Light And Dark

Im going to be honest, I was terrified when I looked at the packet that said “What does my book choice say about me?”. I was worried that I might not be able to relate to the book, as I find it hard to even read books and understand them in the first place. I saw the title In Darkness and being the person I am, thought “Hey, In Darkness, sounds like it’s about depression, I can totally relate!” but then proceeded to wait till the middle of the summer to even pick a book. My friend had read all the books on the list and thought I might like In Darkness, saying how there was blood and violence which might help keep me interested, and trusting her, I got the book.

Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.

Then some of people noticed a new guest, dress as a clothes of the Red Death. Everyone was freaking out because of him. When Prince Prospero saw this guy, he became angry and asked courtiers to seize him and unmask him. But no one have the courage to do it, including Prospero himself. The Red Death walked through the rooms, heading toward the black room. Prospero chased him with taking his dagger. Prospero reached the edge of the dark room, the Red Death suddenly turned to face him, and Prospero fell on the ground and dead. "Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revelers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony

“Anything that can help us find out who did this.” I said, examining the crime scene. I walked towards what used to be the glass case that held the crown, but was now a useless, shattered cube.

After running from the P.M.C.C. for hours on end Collin finally caught his breath and began to regroup. He ventured into an abandoned Shop-Rite scavenging for food. Something he had not had since the hydrogen bomb went off two days ago. Nothing much was left due to every store being ransacked as soon as America went into fallout. After some searching, Collin fortunately found canned tomato soup and some beef jerky. As he was about to eat he heard a loud clamor a couple aisles over. He slowly made his way and peered to see what or who made the noise. To his relief it was only another man, around the same age as he.

I rolled over in the mountain of duvet covers to the sound of Dakota giggling. I smiled as I raised my arm to feel for my husband’s hand but all I felt was Bean’s fury leg. I thought about how the children, Lena and Dakota, would react to their Christmas gifts this morning as I jumped out from under the heating blanket. As I rose from my slumber, I could feel my muscles loses their strength. I dismissed what I had observed because today was special, it was Christmas.

My vision was still blurry, from the collision. At least for all I knew, I was the only one. I started shouting at the top of my lungs, “Is anybody still there!” Though I knew I was shouting, I heard nothing, but ringing. After leaving the ship wreck I turned around, and saw the horrific scene that was the boat. My last former fighters that fought with me in Troy, were nothing but bloody olives scattered about the shore. Most were impaled with planks and oars, but the gruesomest thing I saw was, a man about the age of 27, impaled through his right eye, and the object extruding through his lower back. Nobody was left. The pain suddenly hit me all through my right arm. I had an iron spike from the ship, lodged in my bicep. I

He remembered a time without voices and a time with voices, but they seemed to him like different lives, two stories completely disconnected. He didn't remember much from back there, all thoughts lost in a mist of smoke and syringes. It wasn’t so bad it first, in fact he almost welcomed it, finally someone to talk to in the long hours he spent alone in his flat. They got worse though, in the years since it started. They argued all night long, sleep became impossible. They had urged him, pleading, begging to him to go out to the bridge. To go to a maintenance walkway no one ever used, on a night so dark and wet that no one would be able to see him. They were whispering to him now, dozens of different voices, all telling him to jump. To take a single step forward, leap over the railing and to plummet downwards, disappearing into the deep black of the

There were drinks.Was she drunk? She doesn't think so. The dark glitter of many bottles on an island unit in a kitchen, architect designed; ceiling lights dimmed, and sequins on the women's clothes catching the secret rays. An evening party in a festive season, in a Western city, black night beyond the front door and guests taking off the still cold coats in the hall. Silhouettes, and a young man's voice complaining the loss of a budget.Voices fluttering like paper cut-outs, that's what she remembers, her sense of detachment.Not a drunken detachment, she's sure, though who can ever be sure? She was distracted, certainly, she was wondering where her boyfriend had got to. She stepped out to the hallway to look for him, and in that moment, a

Paisley and Jason´s shop is on 16th street avenue. They work together seven days a week.They used to live

I knew life was changing, and it would be that way for a long time.

“ I'm sorry... I didn't notice you were. I should have been easier on you. I should of let you do... whatever freaky thing you do. Like a child trying to gain closeness with their distant sibling, is that what you tried to do? All my life, I only had one friend that tried...”

Jude sits in Dr. Harris’s office waiting for the nurse to call for her. Everything is that awful pastel green and white color. The chairs, the walls, the posters. Everything. Jude hopes the nurse will call her back soon. Dr. Harris’s office is much nicer looking. They’re usually quick with the cancer patients. Jude, starting to feel sick again, it’s probably the awful color of the room. She gets up to find her way to the restroom when the nurse calls her name. She holds it back and walks over to the nurse.

As he finished the soup, Mr. Jones dumped out the food that he didn’t eat and took the can, placed it into his bag and walked out the door. The yard was a few miles walk, but he and everyone else needed the money so no one minded. The soup cans, bottles, papers and boxes were all recyclable. But what did that matter when the scrapyard would take them off your hands for 20 cents a can? Mr. Jones always had the mindset of money being a priority and besides, one cared about the environment anyway right? This was about today. Mr. Jones wouldn’t live long enough to see nature burn, so why would it matter to him anyways? Men with a mindset like his were successful. Maybe not popular among the common folk, but when you’re at the top, the smaller peasants

Suddenly held down by an indescribable force, I struggled to resurface. When I reached the surface, I felt a hand grab me and pat my back. I coughed out mouthfuls of brackish lake water. “You okay?” I heard a familiar voice say. Shaking, I collapsed into Jake’s arms. When I finally recovered, I looked around and realized I was not back at our camp.