Post by Firetail on Oct 7, 2010 17:18:54 GMT -6
So i entered this writing contest thing and i wanted some opinion on it...so here it is.
I heard a crunch of leaves behind me. I froze. There it was again, closer. Without looking back to see who or what it was, I ran. I already knew. Somehow they had found me. This was the ninth time they found me, and the eleventh move I would have to make since I was seven. That’s when they first came for me.
I was sitting at my desk in Mr. Bruce’s classroom, bending over my paper covered in the pencil marks and eraser bits. I was working on one of the class’s many art projects when the glass shattered. One of the girls screamed, and as the people in black rushed in, my care taker had run through the doorway, jacket halfway zipped, a bag slung across his back. He was panting, from the run to our house to the school. “Zavier!” he shouted. “We got to leave! Now!” I started to grab my stuff, but the teacher must have known something, for he rushed to me and shoved me towards the doorway. My care taker grabbed me and started to leave. I looked back and watched as the black figures searched my stuff, then watched me leave reluctantly, as if they couldn’t get near my care taker.
Those memories were so clear right now as I rounded off the corner to my house. I hopped the fence and kicked the wooden door down. “Daniel! Now!” I shouted. Daniel, my care taker, ran down the stairs and grabbed the backpack we always kept near the door. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and we ran to the car, a red jeep wrangler that was covered in dirt. I hopped in and he started the jeep. Then we left, watching the black figures once more scowl behind the fence, having been two seconds too slow.
“Where are we going now?” I asked my care taker. He wasn’t my father; my real father had been murdered when I was two, and my mother killed at one. But he knew everything, and it was his job to make sure I was able to understand my twisted life of running, hiding, and blending in.
“Washington. There’s a town, Renton, that I thought would be good. It’s close to Seattle. When they find us in Washington, they’ll think we are there.” He explained to me as we drove. “And when they’re in Seattle, searching for us, we’ll be making our silent escape to Illinois.”
It was a five hour drive from Idaho. We stuck to freeways and highways, and when we couldn’t take those we found some back roads so we could go fast without being caught. We arrived eventually, at the small, boring one-story house.
“Lets hope they don’t find us here.” I said, giving a small sigh. “It would suck to leave.” I liked the way the deep green of the evergreen trees and the gold of the dying ivy looked next to the faded red bricks of the house. Daniel only nodded and hopped out to go set up everything we would need. I stayed in the front yard and thought about them. All I knew was that they knew about me and were after me. Daniel told me that they were the ones to kill my parents. And that I would be next.
But I knew better. They were after me to figure out what they needed to know about my kind, so that they could do whatever it was they were planning. And I was going to follow my parents lead and keep my mouth shut if they caught me, even though it would have consequences. I leaned into the muddy car and searched through my backpack until I felt the rough edges of the tattered brown leather. I pulled it out and opened it to the last page, and recorded the day and where we had moved. I counted the entries. Eleven. Eleven times I had been found, and had to run once more.
I couldn’t wait till I was ready to fight back. But for now I was stuck in this town. I was glad that the trees in the yard were evergreens, for they would always remain the pretty deep green. I stood up and brushed off the dead leaves from the one maple tree and the dying ivy, and went inside.
I heard a crunch of leaves behind me. I froze. There it was again, closer. Without looking back to see who or what it was, I ran. I already knew. Somehow they had found me. This was the ninth time they found me, and the eleventh move I would have to make since I was seven. That’s when they first came for me.
I was sitting at my desk in Mr. Bruce’s classroom, bending over my paper covered in the pencil marks and eraser bits. I was working on one of the class’s many art projects when the glass shattered. One of the girls screamed, and as the people in black rushed in, my care taker had run through the doorway, jacket halfway zipped, a bag slung across his back. He was panting, from the run to our house to the school. “Zavier!” he shouted. “We got to leave! Now!” I started to grab my stuff, but the teacher must have known something, for he rushed to me and shoved me towards the doorway. My care taker grabbed me and started to leave. I looked back and watched as the black figures searched my stuff, then watched me leave reluctantly, as if they couldn’t get near my care taker.
Those memories were so clear right now as I rounded off the corner to my house. I hopped the fence and kicked the wooden door down. “Daniel! Now!” I shouted. Daniel, my care taker, ran down the stairs and grabbed the backpack we always kept near the door. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and we ran to the car, a red jeep wrangler that was covered in dirt. I hopped in and he started the jeep. Then we left, watching the black figures once more scowl behind the fence, having been two seconds too slow.
“Where are we going now?” I asked my care taker. He wasn’t my father; my real father had been murdered when I was two, and my mother killed at one. But he knew everything, and it was his job to make sure I was able to understand my twisted life of running, hiding, and blending in.
“Washington. There’s a town, Renton, that I thought would be good. It’s close to Seattle. When they find us in Washington, they’ll think we are there.” He explained to me as we drove. “And when they’re in Seattle, searching for us, we’ll be making our silent escape to Illinois.”
It was a five hour drive from Idaho. We stuck to freeways and highways, and when we couldn’t take those we found some back roads so we could go fast without being caught. We arrived eventually, at the small, boring one-story house.
“Lets hope they don’t find us here.” I said, giving a small sigh. “It would suck to leave.” I liked the way the deep green of the evergreen trees and the gold of the dying ivy looked next to the faded red bricks of the house. Daniel only nodded and hopped out to go set up everything we would need. I stayed in the front yard and thought about them. All I knew was that they knew about me and were after me. Daniel told me that they were the ones to kill my parents. And that I would be next.
But I knew better. They were after me to figure out what they needed to know about my kind, so that they could do whatever it was they were planning. And I was going to follow my parents lead and keep my mouth shut if they caught me, even though it would have consequences. I leaned into the muddy car and searched through my backpack until I felt the rough edges of the tattered brown leather. I pulled it out and opened it to the last page, and recorded the day and where we had moved. I counted the entries. Eleven. Eleven times I had been found, and had to run once more.
I couldn’t wait till I was ready to fight back. But for now I was stuck in this town. I was glad that the trees in the yard were evergreens, for they would always remain the pretty deep green. I stood up and brushed off the dead leaves from the one maple tree and the dying ivy, and went inside.