Random stories I randomly write/think about

all alone

TW: violence, death, probs depression, invasion, terrible translations(English-Russian)

Not my art

It was a cold night, which was weird for it being the middle of summer, the wind imitating the sounds of a ghost. Madisons heart beat so fast in her chest she was afraid it would pump out and leave her body a bag of bones, all limp and lifeless. Her mind spiraled into a panicked state. Something was wrong, she felt wrong in the very core of her gut. Madisons intuition was never wrong and her father not returning earlier that day added gasoline and quilt into the flame of fear and anxiety in her chest. she thought of her father talking to her before he left, his kind brown eyes and soft smile making her feel more at home. ", Madi, I am going out for a trip I'll be home around Saturday, ok. I love you, kiddo, be safe."  It echoed through Madi's mind but was soon interrupted with a loud banging on the pristine front door of her expensive, yet run-down, house.

She ignored the crippling, overwhelming fear and made herself believe it was a tree branch that hit it, but the raps got louder and more vigorous, striking more fear into my system, my instant defense mechanism was to hide. Hide me and hide my families' priceless heirlooms. I did not know why I did it at the time, but I did. as I slid myself between the wall and the couch that was on the other side of the house, the furthest place away from the door as possible, and prayed. I was never religious, I will never be religious, but right now any god I could summon no matter how powerful would help me. Then I heard it, bullets ricocheting off of the wall, the abrupt sounds of bullet shells hitting the hardwood floors made me screech in fear..." That was a mistake." I whisper, but it was too late.

As I looked up there was one man, he was tall and had plenty of muscles, almost no hair, and was absolutely terrifying, his military uniform pristine. Next to him was a short stack of a person, she had slick blonde hair that led to a neat bundle at the nape of her neck. She was somewhat sweet-looking, but I would not underestimate her ability to fight. They looked like a powerhouse compared to scrawny old me. Though the one thing I could make out was the red and gold embedded on their shoulders, "communist scum". I say in a hushed voice, my Russian accent becoming more thick and bitter than I have ever heard it, as they lift me from my current position on the floor, and as I register what is happening just as they say "Она одна из нас." The woman continued to nod and turned her head to look down at me, her sinister smile struck more fear than I anticipated. (Translation: she is one of us)

At this point, I had devised a plan in my head to get away, get somewhere, just for a little while before my father will come back. The first thing I would do was to attack behind the knees when they walk down the stairs in hope of knocking them unconscious, then run, run like my life depended on it, because it did, and do not look back. I reassured myself in my head, we are in the kitchen just two more rooms. They took five more steps. One more room. They took seven more steps. Just the front veranda now. I looked down at the stairs and then took out the tall man's legs, his were easy to kick out and he fell with a giant thud. But as for the girls she was sturdier, more agile, and stable. I got out of her forceful grip, and we started our dangerous dance of kicks and punches. I never liked my teachers and their harsh ways of teaching that would result in physical punishment and me having to fight back, but I sure did appreciate those times when I needed to fight. I tried, I really did, but the adrenaline that was once shooting through my veins was now gone. Feeling a voice of energy, I let go, I stopped fighting, and in what seemed like a millisecond there was a large pain in the back of my head and blackness took over my vision.

When I awoke my head throbbed and as soon as I opened my eyes a headache pieced my brain, so as quickly as I could I squeezed them back shut. I knew I was knocked out but where was I. I reopened my eyes and let them readjust I remembered the fluorescent lights and grimy, forever muddy floors. "The showgrounds" I whispered to myself in a serious but surprised tone. I looked around and saw all of the people I knew, Ellies' parents were here, Lees' parents were here, God even the jeweler was here. I leaned up against the paint stripped wall and cautiously looked around. That is when I saw him, my dad, just standing there. It looked as if he was challenging their authority. The wrong move I thought to myself, and just as I saw his clothes, the same white t-shirt, flannel, and jeans as two days ago I realized the dire situation, my heart sank, and tears brimmed in my eyes. My ears rang and vision continued to blur, I looked down.

That was a mistake, I kept thinking that. It is all I could think, and as my internal conflict continued is a battle between good and evil, life and death a loud, ear-splitting shot rang then people breaking into cries, gasps, and screams. Realizing the shot never ricocheted, there was only a small clink of the shell, I looked up to see my father on the floor. Blood pooling around him and soaking his white, now red, shirt-like ink on paper. But when I Looked up to see the guard who did it, who murdered the only person who had ever shown any love towards me, my kind, understanding, and happy father. The woman, the short stack of a human, I fought with earlier was there with a smirk present on her face. Her blonde hair was now out and rage-filled both mine and her eyes. I could grieve now; I would not give them the chance to see my tears. To feel satisfied I let out a gut-wrenching, curdling even, scream. Now I am all alone. 

A/N

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Heeeeeey...

so I used google translate soooooo.... sorry?

anyways this is just random stuff I write when I'm bored in English class, we are currently going over Macbeth so my writing will eventually become more poetic and possibly display some darker tragic themes.