Random Stories (1)

These are some short things I wrote while I was bored to try and get myself to write more.

published on March 22, 20154 reads 4 readers 0 not completed
Chapter 1.



The bang of a gun, the screams of a man, the burning feeling that was in my throat. This is how it started. My mother raced into the room and started dumping everything I had in a suitcase. I remember the crazed look in her eyes, she was so desperate. By the time I had registered what she was doing, she had finished had had thrown me a pair of clothes.

“Change into these, we need to leave.” I don’t know what did it, but I got up and changed as quick as I could. I ran down the stairs to find my father, mother and brother all crowded around the table looking at a map. As I got closer, the map was shaded in some parts in red. There was a specific route into another country.

“We have to go, it’s our only chance.” I heard my father say,

“Where are we going?” I had asked, I was only 6 years old. My voice was high and I couldn’t understand what was going on. My father turned around and saw me. I was so free, so unknown to the terrors of war. I was so innocent. My fathers eyes teared up and he rushed to hug me.

“Ricarda Montgomery Oswald,” He said, and that was when I felt the most scared. My father never ever used my full name, his voice was shaking and his eyes were stained with tears. He looked so weak and powerless, I wanted to comfort him in every way I could. But I had no idea how, I was just a small girl. I stared at him with the fear showing through every movement in my body. As he continued,

“Father has to go away for a while. I’ll be back, I need you to go with Mother and Liam to another place. I’ll meet you back there.” For a second there was a glimmer of hope that he wasn’t going forever,

“Like Harkomsa?” We had gone to Harkomsa a few years before. We had to split up because we only had three tickets for the train. I went with my mother and Liam while my father took his own car.

“A little like that sweetie, but I’m going to take a little longer. You’re going a lot farther this time.” He nodded to my mother and just before she picked me up. I reached out and hugged my father. A gesture that made it sure that we would meet again. Tears spilled out of my eyes and I knew it would be a long time before he came back to us. A gunshot was heard and I was ripped from my fathers grasp.

“DADDY!” I yelled. But my mother kept running. I watched as my father watched me go away. That was the last I saw of him.

We walked for hours. It was nearly dark and the food supply was growing lower. I couldn’t focus on anything. I was wrapped up in my small thoughts. What had happened to my father? When would he be coming back? Where are we going? All questions I wanted answered but was too scared to share them, and I was pretty sure that Liam and mother were too scared to answer them. My mother had shut herself up, she didn’t say anything. She never wanted to. She kept walking, never did she moan about her feet hurting. Nor that I was never walking by myself. She seemed dead, but still alive. Liam was in shock. For the first few days, he had the same look on his face that mother had had the day it had started. Pure terror. But after a few days he was the one that noticed that we were short on food. My brother was the one who took out the map and guided us to the rest of the people who were going the same way. To people who had food. We traded and got the things we needed. But everyone felt dead. One day there was an announcement. People wearing the cleanest white shirts that I had seen in a month had climbed up on top of a boulder and were speaking to us. Stating that they were going to help us in every way they could. But they had rules. We were to do anything that they said, we would do the things they told us to, get the things they told us to, give the things they told us too. This statement made me clench the guitar I was struggling to carry. The guitar used to be my fathers. He had been teaching me before it happened, it was the only normal thing we had left. Sure enough, after they had finished their speech. Someone came and asked to take the guitar. But I said no. They seemed taken back. At the time I didn’t know why. I thought they knew that it used to be my fathers and that it was special to me. Now I realise that they might’ve been expecting me to be happy to give away something heavy and useless. But I didn’t. The woman kneeled down and whispered.

“I said, give me the guitar. You don’t need it honey. You don’t need to carry something else.” She reached for the guitar but I picked it up higher and said,

“No.” A little more sternly and strong. Definitely not a tone that one would expect to come out of a six-year-olds mouth. The woman looked both ways, then grabbed the guitar and yanked. I tugged back. She was furiously trying to take the guitar from my grasp but my love for my father was strong and nothing, nothing  was going to make me let go of it. Ever. So I flipped into security mode and rammed my small fist into her stomach. The force was so strong. I had never felt that much power in myself for my whole life. I felt bones crack under my fist and I pulled back. She gasped and clutched her chest, letting go of the instrument. I grabbed the guitar and watched in horror as the woman threw up some blood. I almost dropped the guitar. Then a man came around the corner and saw me. I could see the disbelief and anger in his face and his eyes darted to me. He acted calm but I knew, he was trying not to murder me on the spot.

“What is your name?” He asked, I froze. Suddenly I forgot how to speak english. My vocal chords were ripped out of my throat and I just stared at the man.

“Do I have to ask again?” He asked, I shook my head and shakily answered,

“Ricarda.” My voice was raspy. I only now realised that I hadn’t spoken in weeks. The man sighed and kneeled down.

“Ricarda, you need to come with me.” He held out his hand. The fear was coming back and I backed up a little. The man followed me until I had bumped into a stone. Far too big to just ignore.

“Come.” He grabbed my arm. Hard. I gasped in pain as he dragged me around the rock. I was brought into a tent where there were many people in white shirts and coats. The experience still haunts me as I see the needles and utensils that were on display. The man stopped pulling me but kept a firm grip on my arm. Then came the syringe. Someone was advancing towards me holding a syringe with a liquid inside. My instincts kicked in and I started struggling for dear life. But a little six-year-old girl couldn’t withhold herself to a full grown man. The needle entered my vein and I felt dizzy. My limbs relaxed and I dropped the guitar. I fell, and hit the ground.

I don’t know how much time passed since then. Maybe days, maybe hours, maybe it was only a few minutes. But in only a few seconds I was awake again. I had been strapped to a bed that was inside some sort of tube machine type thing like a tanning bed but it was different. I was scared, tired, and hungry. I was missing my family. But no one was there. Then suddenly a light turned on. It blinded my eyes temporarily until I had gotten used to it. I heard a voice through a speaker.

“Test one of project Young Gun.” The machines limbs started to move and horror passed over me as I realised they were moving towards me. I screamed and kicked and fought against my restraints but nothing worked. I couldn’t go away. The needle came back and I don’t remember anything.

I don’t think it’s good to give a kid anaesthesia. I think it makes them a little cautious. Or afraid of needles. Thankfully, after this experience I wasn’t afraid of needles. I was just cautious. But what happened next was too much for me, and frankly it was also too much for them. I woke up in the middle of the test to see a blade. It was pitch black and glistened in the light. It was brought down onto my right hand. The pain, was too much. Tears filled my eyes and I bawled. But no one did anything as the machines fixed the blade onto my severed hand. The machines clicked a button and only the blade showed. Again and the hand was there. I had to watch it all. They fixed it onto my severed limb and turned it into a hand. Only then did it realise that I was awake. It walked- or should I say- floated to the other side of the room and gave me another dose of anesthesia. But I was ready. I clicked the button with my thumb and cut my way out of the restraints quicker than the machine could move. I jumped up and sliced the machine to bits. Thinking of all the horrible things it could have done. A door opened and out came the same man that brought me to this place. He had a shield and he was walking with caution. But I just stared at him. I wasn’t going to have mercy on him. oh, no. I was just thinking about what an idiot he is for trying to get me to not kill him now. I felt power course through my body and my blade glistened with a purple hue. My fist curled and glowed as well and I attacked. That was the last people saw of him. My clothes were stained with blood and I looked down at my hands. Well, one of my hands. The other was still a blade. They were glowing purple and didn’t seem to stop. I looked around the room until I saw a small area inside the wall where all the people were watching. Some of them had horror written all over them and some were just scared. It was divided from me by a glass wall. Probably shatter proof. But was going to put every single will I had into this. I climbed up with all my might and lashed against the wall. Cutting it in one try. I climbed through the hole to see the people frozen with fear. I must’ve looked horrible. A small girl in a white dress covered in blood. There were bags underneath my eyes from lack of sleep and my hair was messy from struggling. Something snapped inside me. I lunged forward, nothing can unsee what I did just then. I had no idea how to stop until they were gone. I felt terrible. I crouched right in the middle of the floor and let out all the tears that I had kept in since we left my father. The door opened and something hit my neck. I pulled it out, it was a dart. I turned to see a man in a coat. He looked very suspicious and intimidating. No doubt in my mind that he had injected me with yet another dose of anaesthesia. I laid back and closed my eyes. His presence hovered over me and I lost conscious.

That was my first one! Hope you enjoyed. (Even though it was bit gory. Just a little though)
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