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𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 - 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄 - 𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐒
A little boy sits on his bed, trying his best to fall asleep as screams from the television downstairs echo in his mind.
The world seems to darken as the television his parents are watching gets brighter. The camera pans onto a mother and her young daughter, marching forwards, matching looks of determination plastered on their face.
The pavement underneath them is covered in scars from thousands of shoes, all marching in unison to an unheard beat.
Flyers and giant cardboard boards are waved around, all reflecting the same message in different words.
The destination they're headed for is crowded with arguments, sirens flashing red and blue tell them danger is approaching, instead of the other way around.
The mother's hand tightens around the tiny fist of her daughter.
Candles are lined up on the side of the highway, one lit for every soul missing from the march. The mother lights one quickly, thanking her husband for the strength to do this. She wished him well as she looked up to the sky.
The crowd is getting angrier as someone with a megaphone starts barking orders at the protesters, looking down at them like bugs in an ant farm.
Suddenly, a shot is heard, echoing off the police cars as everyone freezes, no one daring to move. A man in the back yells as loud as he can, and the crowd erupts into madness.
An officer whistles as half of the people rush into the barricade, while the other half run back, trying to preserve their lives.
A stampede is created quickly, pushing the mother away from her daughter. The little girl, eyes wide, trys her best to escape, but the crowd has become a cage she doesn't have the key to.
Smoke bombs and firecrackers are thrown onto the road. Fumes and smoke clouds the daughters lungs. The camera cannot capture this, but it is still focused on her little body, writhing in pain on the ground. She cries, screams and shouts, but the television no longer has sound. Suddenly, her mouth goes still as a firecracker lands next to her head. People step on her, trying to get away from the massacre.
The television is shut off.
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𝐂 𝐑 𝐄 𝐃 𝐈 𝐓 𝐒 - clairetastrophe
💌
YOU ARE READING
𝐓 𝐇 𝐑 𝐄 𝐄 𝐖 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐒 ༼ ᵃᵖᵖˡʸ ᶠⁱᶜ
General Fiction𝐂 𝐋 𝐎 𝐒 𝐄 𝐃 ! ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ 𝐇𝐈, this is an apply fic where you are given three words to structure and write a story, with credits given. each chapter will be a new slot, with three different words for you to be creative with...
