Past Stories

Bradbury-Like Personal Narrative

So this story is a story we had to write after reading Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine. It is a personal experience.
However, Ray Bradbury sort of twisted his tales a little, so most of this story is highly exaggerated.

WARNING: None.

   “Hurry! Hurry!” cried the head counselor to the four teenage boys who were heaving wooden benches around the cabin. The flood water was rising, and the rain was unrelenting. The gallons of water pummeled from the clouds and pounded on the tin roof of the small abode, imitating a thundering stampede.

     The boys grunted, soaked in mud and cold rain, as they hoisted the benches on their sides forming a small wall around the loose door of the cabin. It seemed as if it was no use, however, for water was seeping through the porous wood and creeping underneath the door.

     The girls inside the cabin looked in fear, as the damp rug on the floor began to move with the ebb of the rainwater. Almost all of them had huddled together on the top bunks, avoiding their submergence into the growing sea of muddy liquid.

     “The water’s coming through?” incredulously inquired a girl named Lauren, “I thought the boys were setting up barrier?”

     Another girl, Rosario, replied, “It must’ve not been enough! The water’s already grown enough to pick up our shoes!”

     All five girls in the cabin gawked at Rosario, not believing her statement. However, they were interrupted by her pointing at the floor, “See for yourself!”

     Sure enough, an unfastened Chaco floated slowly across the water. It was followed by its matching friend. They watched as the shoes hit the wooden base of the bunkbed, each girl examining them.

     Arianna cocked her head curiously after recognizing the footwear, “A-Are those mine?”

     “It doesn’t matter now!” exclaimed Aye, shaking her friend back to the present.

     Sydney added, “Yeah, what we need to do is find a way out of here.” She waited to continue, and all of her cabinmates watched her expectantly. She went on, talking to them as delicately as she could, “OR else we’ll be trapped.”

     The girls swallowed nervously, some of the having tears brim their eyes. Sydney noticed this and began to think of an escape plan, looking around the room for answers.

     However, with the rising water acting like an hourglass, Sydney knew that she was running out of time.

     Adam ran as fast as he could to get to the mess hall, sliding through the deep puddles while avoiding the nearly invisible trees in the dark. His shirt was tearing on sharp branches as he sped past them, their ends resembling daggers and claws.

     Panting, Adam took off his shirt altogether, for it was hindering his sprint. He tossed it into the dark rain and continued to rush through the murky woods.

     Adam finally reached the pavemented blacktop leading to the mess hall. Streams of cold water ran through the old cracks of the cement, and the mess hall’s roof looked to be a torrent of a waterfall. He hurriedly jumped through the hurling water pouring down the root (not minding the drenching of his hair), and barged into the mess hall crowded with pre-campers.

     The scared and surprised eyes of the pre-campers gazed at Adam, his tired figure dripping on the dirty floor. Some of them whispered quietly to each other before a bright flash of lightning and the boom of thunder made them squeal in fright. Adam looked around for the camp director, Mr. Chuck.