Short Story
Ok, I just found this little story that I wrote for an English class way back in high school. I've always been proud of it, and thought I had lost it during a recent move! But now I've found it and time to show it off. Oh, and I suck at titles, so that's why I never have any. The rain continued to cascade upon my face. Curled up as close as I could to the large oak tree, I shivered and nervously looked around me. The dead branches of the tree in front of me lashed wildly in the air, illuminated only by the brief streaks of lightning. The sound of the wind rushing through the old, dry autumn leaves sounded to me as though the demons of the night were yelling to one another that they had found a victim. One who could not move. One who had no chance of being rescued from their hellish grip. The noise was drowned out only by the crack and roll of thunder that occasionally threatened to split the sky. But the demon voices always rushed back and the victim was still there. Me. I'd been there for days or eternities. Time no longer had a dimension. Day and night had blended into one endless nightmare. I am haunted by the stillness while awake and by the unimaginable horros that fill my dreams as I sleep. And now this storm is upon me. My leg, horribly twisted and broken, aches constantly. But I have been glad for the unabatting pain; it reminds me that I am still alive. But on a night like this one, all I want is for the pain to stop. Tears mixed with rain rolling down my face. The voices growing closer. They are almost upon me! And then---silence. Everything stops. Even the wild wind has blow intslef into oblivion and nothing moves. The earth has come to a stand still. I listen, anxiously wanting to hear something, needing to hear something. The weight of silence bears down hard upon me. I long to scream and shatter the stillness. But I can not. Now that the storm has abandoned me, there are no longer any flashes of light. The clouds have also been stopped. I reach out my hand behind me, to make sure the tree against which I rest is really there. But immediately, I snatch it back. What unknown horror leans against the opposite side? What if the tree is not really a tree, but a demonic creature dragged up from the depths of Hades itself? It is wiser, then, perhaps, to follow the example of the earth. Remain motionless and silent. Above all, remain silent. I sit, then, silent and unmoving against the tree figure. I try to calm myself, saying that help will come. It has to come. Soon, soon. That is the magic word. Soon help will come, soon the dawn will come, soon this nightmare will be over. Soon, soon. Soon this too will pass. But of this I cannot convince my soul. Faintly, oh so faintly, I hear something. I strain my ears, trying to hear through the silence. What was that noise? Please, let me hear it again. Nothing can be worse than this unending silence. There. I hear it again. A small rustle of leaves, like a whisper from the past. I long for more of the noise, as a hungry man yearns for food. This sound is my savior. And then I hear the silence pour in around me. I tremble inside myself. "No more silence," I beg the silent assault. My only response is more silence. The noise is gone. Without warning, it starts up all at once. The demon voices, disguised as leaves on the trees, begin to holler to each other. The wind whips around me, lashing me like a cruel whip. Dead leaves blow over me, as though they are searching me, searching my face, to see how much I have left in me. How much more it will take to break me. Now the scream that has been hidden so long during the silence breaks through and splits the night sky. At that instant, the clouds part and the moon breaks through. But it is not the familiar, serene moon. It is a dark, ugly red moon that reminds me of blood. Blood of all the other victims of the night. I continue to scream. Something flies into my open mouth. I spit and cough violently, trying to rid myself fo the evil spirit that has flown into me. I am crying helplessly now. But there is no one to hear me. Only the voices and the wind answer me. Above all of that is silence. Always silence. It is inevitable. All things return to silence. I cough out the leaf that had entered my mouth and clamp it shut. But another sream tears through me, racking my soul and my mind. It is the scream of a madman. I can't hold it back; I have no control over anything. There is no longer any pain in my leg! I cannot feel it. Afraid to look down and afraid not to, I glance quickly to see if it is still even there. It is. But what an awful looking thing it is. Blood caked onto it, along with mud, grass, leaves, and pieces of bone. Repulsed at the sight, I turn my head. I look and see the silhouette of a gigantic, horned figure looming over me. I scream in terror; surely I am in Hell itself. But it does not move. I cringe and wait. The roar of the demons fill my ears and my own cries seem to only add to their excitement. I try to be calm, but to no avail. I beg for mercy, but the only answer I receive is----silence.
Ok, I just found this little story that I wrote for an English class way back in high school. I've always been proud of it, and thought I had lost it during a recent move! But now I've found it and time to show it off. Oh, and I suck at titles, so that's why I never have any. The rain continued to cascade upon my face. Curled up as close as I could to the large oak tree, I shivered and nervously looked around me. The dead branches of the tree in front of me lashed wildly in the air, illuminated only by the brief streaks of lightning. The sound of the wind rushing through the old, dry autumn leaves sounded to me as though the demons of the night were yelling to one another that they had found a victim. One who could not move. One who had no chance of being rescued from their hellish grip. The noise was drowned out only by the crack and roll of thunder that occasionally threatened to split the sky. But the demon voices always rushed back and the victim was still there. Me. I'd been there for days or eternities. Time no longer had a dimension. Day and night had blended into one endless nightmare. I am haunted by the stillness while awake and by the unimaginable horros that fill my dreams as I sleep. And now this storm is upon me. My leg, horribly twisted and broken, aches constantly. But I have been glad for the unabatting pain; it reminds me that I am still alive. But on a night like this one, all I want is for the pain to stop. Tears mixed with rain rolling down my face. The voices growing closer. They are almost upon me! And then---silence. Everything stops. Even the wild wind has blow intslef into oblivion and nothing moves. The earth has come to a stand still. I listen, anxiously wanting to hear something, needing to hear something. The weight of silence bears down hard upon me. I long to scream and shatter the stillness. But I can not. Now that the storm has abandoned me, there are no longer any flashes of light. The clouds have also been stopped. I reach out my hand behind me, to make sure the tree against which I rest is really there. But immediately, I snatch it back. What unknown horror leans against the opposite side? What if the tree is not really a tree, but a demonic creature dragged up from the depths of Hades itself? It is wiser, then, perhaps, to follow the example of the earth. Remain motionless and silent. Above all, remain silent. I sit, then, silent and unmoving against the tree figure. I try to calm myself, saying that help will come. It has to come. Soon, soon. That is the magic word. Soon help will come, soon the dawn will come, soon this nightmare will be over. Soon, soon. Soon this too will pass. But of this I cannot convince my soul. Faintly, oh so faintly, I hear something. I strain my ears, trying to hear through the silence. What was that noise? Please, let me hear it again. Nothing can be worse than this unending silence. There. I hear it again. A small rustle of leaves, like a whisper from the past. I long for more of the noise, as a hungry man yearns for food. This sound is my savior. And then I hear the silence pour in around me. I tremble inside myself. "No more silence," I beg the silent assault. My only response is more silence. The noise is gone. Without warning, it starts up all at once. The demon voices, disguised as leaves on the trees, begin to holler to each other. The wind whips around me, lashing me like a cruel whip. Dead leaves blow over me, as though they are searching me, searching my face, to see how much I have left in me. How much more it will take to break me. Now the scream that has been hidden so long during the silence breaks through and splits the night sky. At that instant, the clouds part and the moon breaks through. But it is not the familiar, serene moon. It is a dark, ugly red moon that reminds me of blood. Blood of all the other victims of the night. I continue to scream. Something flies into my open mouth. I spit and cough violently, trying to rid myself fo the evil spirit that has flown into me. I am crying helplessly now. But there is no one to hear me. Only the voices and the wind answer me. Above all of that is silence. Always silence. It is inevitable. All things return to silence. I cough out the leaf that had entered my mouth and clamp it shut. But another sream tears through me, racking my soul and my mind. It is the scream of a madman. I can't hold it back; I have no control over anything. There is no longer any pain in my leg! I cannot feel it. Afraid to look down and afraid not to, I glance quickly to see if it is still even there. It is. But what an awful looking thing it is. Blood caked onto it, along with mud, grass, leaves, and pieces of bone. Repulsed at the sight, I turn my head. I look and see the silhouette of a gigantic, horned figure looming over me. I scream in terror; surely I am in Hell itself. But it does not move. I cringe and wait. The roar of the demons fill my ears and my own cries seem to only add to their excitement. I try to be calm, but to no avail. I beg for mercy, but the only answer I receive is----silence.