Story writing: Attempt 1.


She blinked in the darkness, her senses heightened for any sign of adversaries. She heard shifting footsteps in the distance. An exhausted sigh escaped her as she turned away from the noise. She had no strength left to fight right then. Not like she had a choice, though. But she stalled as long as possible. Her limbs ached from carrying the heavy rifle, her legs ached from all the running away, her lungs hurt from always panting so hard and her eyes craved the light of day.

She ran away one last time, hoping to rest awhile and maybe revive some her lost energy. Her throat was parched but she ignored it as she made her way up a flight of stairs, aware of the diminishing sound of footsteps. She found a fresh stash of supplies on the fourth floor and walked to the box that had it’s lid slightly ajar. She sat down near the box and exhaled loudly.

Whilst slowly loading her rifle with fresh ammunition, she stared down at herself. She was covered in dirt, filth and gunpowder. Her feet paraded a tattered pair of converse and her long tousled hair decorated her head in all their shabby glory.

Ignoring all of this, she continued to load her weapon- a mundane process which she had repeated countless times in the past few days. Once again, she heard footsteps and she started. The room in which she hid had one door and no windows and running outside didn’t seem like a very bright idea right then. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. She mused over the possibility of her bloody end. But she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

She staggered to her feet and clicked her rifle back. She stared into the emptiness of the sordid, dull room, waiting for whoever or whatever was coming. A large hand reached out of nowhere and covered her mouth. A second hand, followed by an arm wrapped itself around her. She let out a muffled scream, wriggling as she did. her rifle fell to the floor, and all her strength dampened into the grip around her. A gunshot fired from the darkness, violently shaking her and the next moment, whatever had held her loosened it’s hold and crumpled to a heap on the floor near her feet. The entire process lasted a little less than a minute.

Frantic with fear, she swivelled around as she stepped away to pick up her rifle. A man lay on the ground where she had been standing, dark blood flowing out of a gunshot wound in his skull. Adrenaline rushed through her a second time when she heard a voice in the dark speak her name. She had been conditioned to remain silent in times of such sudden panic. Screaming would prove to be a fatal reaction. So she aimed her rifle in the direction of the voice and stood against a wall, peering into the dark once more, ready to fire. The voice spoke again.

“Allie, it’s just me, Nate.” came the familiar tone of a friend.

Nate stood a few feet away from her, his hands in the air, a gun in his right hand and a rifle slung across his torso. They stood silent and motionless for a few moments before Allie finally dropped her stance, breathing heavily, relief flooding through her. She ran into Nate’s arms, enveloping him in a deep hug, which he duly returned.

She stepped away and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut short by a series of gunshots fired from an unknown location that lasted exactly seven seconds. It was a sign. It was the sign. The sign that everyone had been waiting for since what seemed like time unmemorable. Allie and Nate ran into the corridor, their rifles fully loaded, exposing themselves to the pestilence that walked around them.

Allie saw familiar faces on every balcony of the horseshoe shaped building. So many of them had survived the trials and trauma. So many of them, just like Allie, smiled on seeing their comrades and friends. So many of them, waiting for this ordeal to end. And now it finally would. They had made it to the end. It would be over soon. Soon, they would be free.

As planned, the enemy was surrounded. Clicking back their rifles one last time, the armada of warriors fired, finishing the battle down to every last foe. Twenty minutes later, they emerged victorious. The sky showed the beginning of a new dawn, an orange streak across the sky. Friends reunited, some mourned over the death of others and some helped the injured survivors. But it was over. They were free now.

“It’s over…” Allie exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Nate replied, taking her hand in his, “Yeah, it is.” He smiled at her and she returned it rather weakly, but genuinely.

A large crowd was waiting to cheer for them as they exited the building.

{This is basically my first attempt at writing a story which I’m ready to make public. The rest of them were all typed and duly deleted with the passage of time. Hopefully, that will not happen anymore.}


3 thoughts on “Story writing: Attempt 1.

  1. Interesting, though the focus of the story seems to be Nate and Allie and not the hows and why’s of the conflict. As the interpersonal relationship between them isn’t a theme that’s explored as well, it leaves me to wonder where the story line is going. As always, am very proud of your efforts! Keep it up, girl!

    1. The focus of the story was not Nate and Allie, it was just Allie. (I think you said that coz you’ve known me too long) It’s simply about one person (namely Allie) watching a war come to an end.
      And as always, I value your feedback. Thank you! 🙂

      1. Right, I understood that, but then I wondered what the storyline was about if it wasn’t about them or about the war. Cheers and keep writing!

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