It is dark.
Papa is not home just yet.
The kitchen is as dark as a moonless sky.
Papa told me not to fret but I am frightened.
Everything is so still. Not the trill of a bird, not a rustle in the grass. In here it's just still.
I can hear music but the tune is unfamiliar.
The alarm goes off.
It is so loud, but it can't be stopped.
It's the third night in a row that the shrill noise has been set off.
Hurry Papa hurry.
The siren sounds like an ongoing bell, ringing and ringing, until the day gets cold.
I smell the smoke and flames licking the building like a child in a candy store.
He is enjoying this, I whispered fiercely.
He is laughing right now. He does not care about us.
He is a killer - no, a murderer! I scream in my head.
The music continues. The siren is still going like my cat during hairball season.
The gunpowder is too much. I can smell the stench of death on every road.
The twinkle of stars seems so far away now.
The continuous beat of the planes is so excruciatingly painful to hear.
Hurry Papa, hurry!
I am petrified. I fear for my life. What if he were to march in here?
My imagination runs from me.
I hear a crunch of boots approaching our home's path.
I leap up with joy only to hit my head on the table I am under.
I thank my lucky stars. Papa has made it home safely - for now.
The door is thrust open. I hear orders rattled out in a foreign tongue.
The voice is so thick.... Not like Papa's.
I know for sure now that my nightmare has descended upon me.
I feel a stocky, hairy hand grab my waist. It pulls me quickly into the light.
I scrunch up my eyes - it is too bright in here.
I go inside my head. The music has stopped.
Everything is silent. Too silent.
I quickly release my eyelids.
His cold, bitter, dead eyes are focused firmly upon me.
As he barks out more orders, his saliva spills out all over my face.
He tugs at my sash. It unravels majestically to a fast paced tune.
Tears well up in my eyes. I feel them charge their way down my face.
What now?
What will become of me?
Questions bubble up in my head, threatening to overflow.
He marches out of my home but not out of my fears.
His cold hands grip me harder as he forcefully drags me towards the unknown.
A sluggish grey cloud floats over the silver grey moon, - hiding it from view.
We are plunged in to sudden darkness.
The cloud is covering the faintest shaft of light that comes from the moon.
It's a sign from the moon.
My destiny is fatal.
I can hear music no more.
vote and comment? anyone up for it?
Inkflower x
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The Path Into My Twisted Mind-collection of short stories
Short Storyhey there! thanks for clicking onto this book, have a poke around and hopefully you'll see something you like! :) This is just a collection of short stories written by me. if you like what you see don't be afraid to vote and comment (it boosts my...
