Creative Writing: Trapped

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

“She seemed confused and so other worldly. I wasn’t sure if she understood my questions, but she did everything I asked. It was all so strange.” He frowned. “I wasn’t comfortable in pushing her though the system or taking her to a homeless shelter, you know, call it gut instinct, but something was not right.” He looked inquiringly at Adrienne, hoping for some explanation.

At the bell tower, she sat on the ledge trying to do her homework. Her eyes glistened darkly as they carried away with him standing on the ledge, the ledge only she dared to hang from. Her gaze was stolen on his pants hanging on his hips, his cheeks filling in the jeans as he stepped carelessly, the bare skin just above his pants shown when he reached up to climb, and his muscular forearms flexing as they wrapped around the columns to come closer to her, his daringness turning her on.

Without the human aware I’m behind her, I grabbed her from behind. She starts shrieking like a banshee and thrashing her arms and legs. I use my fist to shut this human up; they’re so fragile it doesn’t take much to break them. I threw her over my slumping shoulder and started to turn toward the sea as I hear another human yelling at me.

“You were human then. You’re human now. And yeah, it sucks, but there will never be nothing because there will always be this, all of these moments, you and everything and nothing else.” He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her forehead. “Please. I’ll always follow you. For all the crazy moments behind, and for all the crazy moments to come. Don’t throw that away.” The world was

Without sparing a second I run up the arm of the cyclops who had his axe stuck in the stone floor trying to pull it out.

An elbow smashes into my jaw and nose, blood instantly gushing from my nose. I drop to one knee, refusing to fall completely. Rage rushes through me as I breathe hard and try to gather my wits. He suddenly drops my wrist and a boot flies in the corner of my eye and ends in my ribs.

I waiting for some sort of reaction, and it came by him scooting a body space or two away from me. I had sat too close to him, and he didn’t like that. I couldn’t believe it. It seemed like everything I could do wrong I did. After fidgeting around with the dust and dirt laying around us, I almost couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted to run off, and I almost did but then he spoke. D’Angelo didn’t say just one thing, but two, then three, and just kept talking. It made me so confused. At first I was confused that he didn’t think I was so “uncool” after throwing bark in his eyes and sitting too close next to him, but that quickly turned into confusion about what he was talking about. It sounded like he was quoting pages out some boring “adult”

“Why are you such a control freak?” I spat, backing up a few steps at a time. “I don't even know how I got here! Wait, no. It's because of you. You!” He stepped towards me carefully, and I watched the anger slowly begin to grow from his face. “Stop, Rebecca! This won't help. I don't understand what you're trying to prove, or what you think you can do, or whatever. It doesn't matter. You're not going to change my mind,” he insisted. That weird feeling came back.

My first reaction was to fight, and I sprinted, pain forgotten, over to the creature, my hands already in fists, a fierce look on my pale face.

“Wake up,” that’s what I heard after passing out from all the blows to the face. My vision is blurred I’m trying to stay awake but I lost consciousness; all of a sudden I felt a splash of coldness on my face, and I woke up gasping for air. The man with the deep ominous voice said, “Wakey wakey little man” I replied, “where the h*ll is Mako!” when I was fully aware of where I was, that’s when I started to panic.

“Damn you... damn you to hell!” I throw my sword in the blood soaked ground, tears running down my cheeks.

in a long black coat, stood a man – his eyes pierced her skin as he

“How many boys have I watched in the past twenty years?” he said, staring at the picture impassively. “For three years I’ve been standing outside official buildings, jails, and morgues, waiting for them to open their doors. And every door I have knocked has presented me with ten thousand photos. Sometimes I feel that every picture I watch is the same,

I turned the page over and over again, but still, I couldn’t figure it out. My stomach growls as I’m struggling for my art. Each page is more difficult to understand then the last, and stumbles all around my head, pounding brutally; there’s nothing there. Blank as the white, crumpled piece of paper I thrusted across the floor in frustration, my mind wondered why there was nothing on the paper.