Confusion of the aftermath

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic


This is just a short story that I made in about an hour. It's still rough around the edges but I just want to know what I can do better for the next story I write and to see how this goes really.
It might be hard to understand but hopefully I am conveying the scenario I had in mind

Submitted: March 04, 2018

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Submitted: March 04, 2018

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A sudden movement from the bushes was all that could be heard for miles from this remote area. It was a typical area for what you could imagine a drama as large as this would take place: A small cottage with vines running up the sides… and then trees. It was just trees and trees for as far as the short sighted boy could see. The ground was filled with leaves, post autumn kind. The kind that if you were to run away from something, it would not help in the slightest.

Describing what was inside this cottage would be too vulgar to put into a story like this, so I hope the passive comment is enough to satisfy any questions that you may ask about what is inside the cottage. I’d like to highlight my use of ‘the cottage’. This cottage was the only house for a long way, a good kilometre away from the next sign of life, apart from the odd badger wondering through from time to time.

This whole scene seems to me as if it was made up in a twisted fairy tale or a Guillermo del toro movie, but it’s all true what I just described. The tall muscular boy found it queer to have narrated to himself at a time like this, but none the less he had done so. So this quick hesitation turned into a leap into the vast void that would come his way very soon. His hair got caught in his face but it was nothing what would happen in his track races in college, which he realised seemed very useful at this time.

A scream bellowed from the short distance behind him, further strengthening his will to evacuate this remote forest and get on with the life he had been planning all these months. His father pathetically through rocks which made the boy inappropriately snigger at that moment. It didn’t affect his run but it affected his heart rate that was for sure. He reflected on the Along with this out of place snigger came a reminder of his bruise. Just the sound of that rock hitting the floor made the bruises scattered down his legs throb. He reflected on the drastic thing he had just done and thought to himself was it fair. A life lost.  He knew that life lost would lead on to the development of his own but he had always been taught in his ethics class about value of others and karma. However miss hicks had also emphasised on the greater good, a philosophical view he chose to keep in his favour at that moment. However she never mentioned the ethics of murdering a family member and he knew this would be a drastically different case for him; so he just carried on sprinting.

He ran so fast that his little bony legs could no longer catch up with himself, he was not used to running like this but the excitement filled his body with the energy to push himself to where he needed to go: forward. Forward and forward is the only place necessary for this young child right now. Ironically, he then found it unnecessary for him to carry on in the state that he was in. And anyway, if the plan excited him as much as it did his friends, he knew they would wait for him. The plan they had just made less than an hour ago felt like the most important day of the year to him at that time. What could be better than an old fashioned play in the tree house? It was the perfect plan for a summer’s day.

So he bent down in the way that all little boys did, huffing and puffing with his hands over his head.

He opened his eyes and just bruises. He was shocked to see them all this close up and wandered if they would affect his muscles; they were thick but could they handle a lashing like he had just received. He took a moment to observe his surroundings, of which he had been too scared to do in the past but found it appropriate to step up to a small fear like this alongside the risk of unimaginable magnitude in which he was about to endeavour. It was no less than disappointing. The leaves were crumpled and squashed, a sight that shockingly shocked him. They were scattered across the floor as a sea under the shadow of the even more crumpled trees above. He thought about how weak he was feeling, but how much weaker those trees must be. Yet, when all this had been put together, with the addition of a small ray of sunshine peeping through the leaves of the trees, it had made a rather remarkable scenery. They combined to form a primitive yet complexly stunning background to the escape he has made. The light seemed to get brighter though, as if surpassing the trees. It got brighter and larger.

And then he set off again. The adrenaline rush from this sudden movement filled this little boy with even more joy than before. He couldn’t wait to spill his thoughts to Jonah, Oscar and Thomas. He set off to find the treehouse, to play with friends and to enjoy the wonders around him. His parents had let him do this and he was more grateful than one would think.

Running fast through the wind had no effect on his hair, an unusual thought for him at this time as he had had the same haircut for as long as he could remember; short on top and sides. He didn’t mind it as it made him look smart and sensible for the primary school he always tells himself that one day when he’s bigger, he’s going to grow his hair long like the people from the movies. That’s what he hopes. But it was good for now and that’s what matters, the present.

He noticed a sting creep up his legs. It was a cut, but not a serious one, he worried. If he were in front of his parents he would’ve put a performance on to get a ‘getting better’ treat, but since he had left them at his house he pursued on. It was not common for him to experience déjà vu this fast, feeling the same experience he had just moments ago: out of breath, tired, hurting. This time was different though; the mouth-watering smell of bacon and pancakes, smothered in syrup with a small cuboid of butter to suit the American ideas placed into his mind. This delicacy pushed him through the pain and into the sight of the treehouse he had been looking forward to.

As he came closer to the treehouse, he tried to look for the small note his father had left him after leaving his home. He was a very forgetful child and so he needed this note to remember when to return home.

After what had seemed like a lifetime, he finally found the treehouse he had been looking forward to all afternoon. How convenient it had been that the sun was positioned where it was, as the treehouse seemed to glow angelically. The sheer sight of this caused him to fall flat on his face. His face planted on a gathering of sticks and leaves and acorns, yet no blood even touched the floor. He got up and he cried. This is the social norm for any child who had just fell onto the ground, yet this was peculiar. He was crying as hard as one could, yet no tears left his eyes. He just stood there, crying yet not crying. The facial expression showed pain but no tears left his eyes. He tried to remember a time where he had done this before, but he couldn’t; he couldn’t remember anything.

By pure coincidence though, his mates arrived. Tyler grabbed his arm and put it around him and helped the boy limp to the regular meet up point where, just by coincidence his friend Graham was waiting for him to lower down the ropes to the treehouse where just by coincidence his friend Alex was waiting for him with pancakes and bacon smothered with syrup. The boy only had 3 friends but that was all he needed. He appreciated them more than anything in the world, and had known them for so long that he hadn’t even bothered to make new friends.

After a childishly formal greeting had occurred, the four best friends climbed up the ladder to enjoy the delight that they had been blessed with so they could catch up after a very eventful summer. He never had much to say when it came to their catch ups as the boy struggled to remember how things had gone. This never got in the way of him lavishing in the stories of his best friends though. Billy, Sam and Francis always had the best stories.

So the four best friends stumbled through the door to find the lonesome ‘mickey’ on a chair reading the book he always read. His square haircut, thick glasses and perfect teeth always contradicted his interior. For such a plain boy he really could enjoy life. The boys got straight down to talking after the obligatory hello to mickey of course. However mickey looked scared. Mickey looked confused. Mickey looked baffled after the four best friends blundered in through the doors. So mickey blundered straight out onto the luscious fields below, tears flooding down his eyes, leaving his favourite book behind. The Boy would’ve been confused by this, had it not been a regular occurrence.

However to make sure mickey was safe, he and Jason and Sullivan and joel slid down the rope and onto the rough leaves below to go after him. He screamed to mickey to try and tell him to return, attempting to persuade him with his book, but mickey kept running. What was more unusual about this was the absence of his three best friends screams. Why had they not joined in with him, as they had done with everything? He turned around to ask them, but he was alone. And then black.

The pain in his legs had come back and he wondered how he got to this particular position. Blood trickled onto his nose and he suddenly felt faint. He stumbled repeatedly but managed to find balance. He blinked and his mother was there, sitting at a chair. The only thing separating them was the gun he had in his hand. His eyes returned to the real world, where that same gun was now in his pocket. He flinched as he heard a shotgun from the distance shatter his ears. He thought about all the other nineteen year olds in the world who would never have to experience sounds and emotions like he was feeling, but his decision had forced him here. Which reminded him of his mission.

The rough leafy floor penetrated into his hole filled shoes and so he started walking it off, the walk speeding up into a run. He thought about what his next step would be in getting to his next point whilst at the same time, trying to maintain a heart rate that wouldn’t send him to hospital. He had lost his contact lenses on the way here so his eyesight was blurred, but that was a problem for later. Now he had to get out of the mess he was currently in. His father roared and it seemed that he was closing in on him, despite his limped efforts in getting away. It was what his father said, though, that sent chills down his spine.

But Hannah, Theo and Aidan excitedly called him over, so he complied. The three young children gathered around a large turquoise suitcase, bound to be full of mystery. They debated amongst themselves and decided it should be he who opened the box to find out what bounties were locked beneath. His soft young hands grasped onto the lock, which conveniently wasn’t locked, and what was revealed underneath was truly magnificent. He thought that if this were a cartoon, the reward that lied before him would’ve glowed so bright even his immaculate eyesight would’ve struggled. This treasure was so spectacular it took a few minutes for the three best friends to get to grips with it.

Casey, Ben, Marshall and him shared a look, fully knowing that an adventure was on their horizon. The stocks that they had prepared for such an occasion waited for them in the treehouse, all they needed to do was to go. And so they did.

And then black.


© Copyright 2018 Fewmilia Blintz. All rights reserved.

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