- Joined
- Jul 17, 2006
- Messages
- 550
- Age
- 35
- Website
- enlenneffxi.blogspot.com
- Main Job
- Secondary Job
- Third Job
Not really "Fan Works," but I wanna put em SOMEWHERE. The more eyes that see these things and critique, the better.
I have been working on a number of short stories lately, I'mma post em here, and you all shall tell me whatcha think
Ya? Ya! J@. So ummm....Here's the first one:
---
:::INFO: This story is an assignment for my Sci-Fi class, we were told to write a story that may have been written in certain decades. I chose the 40's.:::
Guardian Angel
There…a dark shadow on the horizon ahead. A harbinger of doom, a foretelling fate…
Just two weeks ago, my family sat by the radio, tears in our eyes as we heard of the fate of other cities. We never expected it to happen to us.
It is growing and growing like a rose in bloom. A tuft of mushroom shaped smoke—like springtime, like a newborn child.
I’m pregnant. Eight months. Noa and I were hoping for a boy. I would name him Alexander. I’d imagine Alexander growing up with so many friends that would look up to him, and then he would become a teacher who made a difference, who taught wonderful things…
Closer and closer, the dark wall is blowing. The depths of Hell are coming to greet us.
My husband Noa only returned last week. Thank the heavens he survived! After that, we had always believed there must be a guardian angel watching over us. A protector. I was so grateful…
Moments. Moments left. It’s the end. Houses burst, bridges crash—the sound of the radio cracked into static. We stand here now by the window, watching, waiting, wishing…
I rubbed my bulging abdomen, full of life, one last time. My sweet Alexander. My poor Alexander. I love you, Alexander…
Here it is. No more time. No more light. No more life.
No more…
I am dead. Noa is dead. Our Alexander is…
…the dust, it’s clearing. The darkness dissipating…There is a smell of burning fumes, charred bodies, and fires. Around me, I only see black though I stand stark in the light. There is no window anymore. There is no radio, no wall, no door, no road, nor city; a dystrophic land done in by its own weapon.
Yet here I am, alive—unscratched. Neither scar nor burn. I can breathe, I can see, I can feel…
I reach down, scream...Flat as a board. No bulge, not even a bump! Crying out, I drop to the dirt, searching through the debris, I scratched at the dirt, digging, searching for my child.
I sat. I lay. I cried. I cried and cried.
…But then I smiled.
I have been working on a number of short stories lately, I'mma post em here, and you all shall tell me whatcha think
Ya? Ya! J@. So ummm....Here's the first one:---
:::INFO: This story is an assignment for my Sci-Fi class, we were told to write a story that may have been written in certain decades. I chose the 40's.:::
Guardian Angel
There…a dark shadow on the horizon ahead. A harbinger of doom, a foretelling fate…
Just two weeks ago, my family sat by the radio, tears in our eyes as we heard of the fate of other cities. We never expected it to happen to us.
It is growing and growing like a rose in bloom. A tuft of mushroom shaped smoke—like springtime, like a newborn child.
I’m pregnant. Eight months. Noa and I were hoping for a boy. I would name him Alexander. I’d imagine Alexander growing up with so many friends that would look up to him, and then he would become a teacher who made a difference, who taught wonderful things…
Closer and closer, the dark wall is blowing. The depths of Hell are coming to greet us.
My husband Noa only returned last week. Thank the heavens he survived! After that, we had always believed there must be a guardian angel watching over us. A protector. I was so grateful…
Moments. Moments left. It’s the end. Houses burst, bridges crash—the sound of the radio cracked into static. We stand here now by the window, watching, waiting, wishing…
I rubbed my bulging abdomen, full of life, one last time. My sweet Alexander. My poor Alexander. I love you, Alexander…
Here it is. No more time. No more light. No more life.
No more…
I am dead. Noa is dead. Our Alexander is…
…the dust, it’s clearing. The darkness dissipating…There is a smell of burning fumes, charred bodies, and fires. Around me, I only see black though I stand stark in the light. There is no window anymore. There is no radio, no wall, no door, no road, nor city; a dystrophic land done in by its own weapon.
Yet here I am, alive—unscratched. Neither scar nor burn. I can breathe, I can see, I can feel…
I reach down, scream...Flat as a board. No bulge, not even a bump! Crying out, I drop to the dirt, searching through the debris, I scratched at the dirt, digging, searching for my child.
I sat. I lay. I cried. I cried and cried.
…But then I smiled.
