The soldier stood in the deserted street, his heart beating far faster than it should, his mind racing. The sky was a blank peach, dust sweeping across the bare street, all belongings stolen. The soldier collapsed onto the cold concrete pavement, his eyes wet and sore from crying, his heart not able to cope with what he had done. He had killed a man, not just one. It the stupid attempt to fight for his country, he had forgotten the importance of human life. What was the use in fighting?
The soldier took his hands away from his face, and let his tears stroll down his cheeks. As he winced his eyes to hold in his tears, he heard the pit-pater of paws walk down the road. He looked up, and saw a black dog, its lead still attached, which strolled up to him, tail wagging, tongue beating in a convulsive motion to the rate of his breaths. He stroked the dog, and realised that the most important Christmas present ever was company.
In the calm town of Eastbourne, the sea churned and tossed in its dreams. The pier was alight with light, screams of laughter heard through the country. The sky had other ideas. Dark clouds dressed in thunder tumbled through the sky, the sky darkening, the sun’s power mere against the darkness. All was dark, thunder the only sound to be heard through the night. The rain fell from the sky, trying everything to escape its captors. Lightning flashed, the forks of energy stabbing into the ground. Again and again, the repetitive beating of the ground continuing. Panic, the screams that once were of laughter now of the eerie coldness of fear. The sea, tortured by the stabbing of the tempestuous lightning, crashed and roared in the night, slamming into the rocks and pier. The wind rushes around the people, its whispering sending shivers down their spines. A final bolt of lightning, as time seemed to freeze. It slammed into the pier, and it was all over.
An orange flicker could be seen on the pier, a flicker that grew and grew until the entire pier was its playground. The flames danced on the building, the Eastbourne pier was on fire.
View other people’s posts here!
I wake to the pit-pater of rain. My mouth is dry, swollen and drool oozing out of my open mouth. I ponder on the face, the creature that disturbed my dreams, the cause of my nightmares. The swelling in my arm had stopped, the boils that once covered it reduced to dozens of red spots. I groan, wanting to fall down onto the ground, my body weak and exhausted. I make a weak attempt to crawl towards the rain, my throat sore and dry. A flash, the face illustrated before me. Another flash, the creature beckoning for me to come towards him.
My arm tumbles to the ground as I crawl towards the rain. I wither in pain, torment the only thing I feel in my arm. The rain falls to the ground, the pit-pater beckoning my dehydrated body. I arrive at the end of the cave, my arm outstretched, waiting to collect the precious water. A drop of water forms on my hand, and I smile and attempt to bring my broken and swollen mess of an arm to my face, to drink the sweet-tasting water. My arm falls in front of my face, the spots scattered across my arm. I scream as I see the small hole in my hand where the droplet of rain had landed. The rain that I thought would quench my thirst would scar my throat and claw at my organs. I look up to the sky, the acid rain clawing at the mountains in the distance, and across the desert I see the, beckoning me towards him.
The horrible screams ring out across the land
Babies shriek without their lovely mothers
There may seem to be not many others
With nobody to come and take their hand
Their screams louder than any other band
A daughter tries to find her lost brother
She cannot be a lovely grandmother
This event surely cannot be dreamland
A gentle nice woman holds out her palm
“Come with me I will save you pretty child”
She trusted this woman who seemed so calm
With her lovely face she kindly smiled
Her lovely lips needed no lip balm
Behind her the fire roared oh so wild
The woman dressed in thunderstorms strolled into the courtyard, her face alight with anger, her hand shaking and beating in time with the thunder. No one was around, no one would dare come out during this atrocious weather. She was not a regular person, she did not have realistic ideas. Selfish, she had been called. Many had addressed her with fouler language, believing their language was appropriate and tasteful. No more.
She closed her eyes, her pupils burning beneath her eyelids, her brain racing with thoughts. She concentrated, spells appearing in her mind. What to choose, what to choose. The constantly drunken wrecks needed to be taught a lesson. They needed payback. For so many years, they had brought her down to their level, picking on her, forcing her to turn to her spells for payback. Her spells were where she could forget rules, her usual good behaviour, and let out the emotions held within her.
She spread her arms out, gasping for breath as she whispered the words that would release her problems into the world. The sky turned dark, the clouds darkening to an eerie grey. The shadows melted into the darkness. She collapsed to the ground, her damage done.
Other People’s Posts
Captain Jack bent down, inspecting a dent in the cannon. This was too expensive, too important to break. The recent raid had looked successful, the victims thought they had died in honour. The reality was none of these things. The raid had failed. The immense ship that looked bathed in treasure hadn’t been. The pirates had fought bravely, some had died, all for nothing. Jack bent down, and used a spit covered handkerchief to mop up a droplet of blood, resting on his first mate’s seat. He spat out the window, and sat down. He held his face in his hands, and whipped his face, beads of sweat covering his hands. He sobbed, his mind a mess.
Daniel Cook crept onto the ship with ease. His fellow pirates had gone of drinking, he knew where the captain was and he knew what he was hiding from them. He cautiously walked into the cannon room. Captain Jack sat there, his body a mess, his face covered in pools of sweat. Cook slammed his sword into the door and stamped his foot. Captain Jack looked up, his eyes full of panic, his eyes swollen from crying.
“I know what happened.” he spat, and charged forwards…
Other People’s Posts
The storm had rolled in unlike any other. The wind had picked up, sending a shiver running down the spines of the nearby pedestrians. The bin bag shook, the sky turning an eerie black. The storm clouds rolled around the corner, animals rushing away to their homes. The pedestrians took no notice of the storm, believing it to be just a normal British day. The sun was helpless, running away from the clouds, dominating the sky.
The trees shook, pinecones falling to the ground. The rain started to pour, the acid rain clawing at the nearby people and buildings.