In writing class, our teacher played a song she liked and told us to write what we felt the story was. We all had different ideas depending on what lyrics spoke out to us. For me, it was helpless, helpless, helpless. I don't have an idea what the song is. Sorry guys.
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The little girl almost age eight stood in the one room tiny house in the middle of the woods with blue shutters crying. Her light blonde hair that looked like snow mixed with the tears on her cheeks that mingled with blood from the scrapes on her face. That mixture then mingled in with the cuts and holes on her arms, legs, and torso.
THEY took her from her family and forced her into this life against her will. THEY forced the needles filled with drugs into her arms when she wouldn't let THEM touch her down there. But SHE was the one who cut her torso and legs.
Because she was helpless, helpless, helpless.
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A Short Story Collection #Wattys2018
Short Story***NO LONGER RECEIVING NEW UPDATES; DISCONTINUED*** I'm in a writing class, and we do writing exercises where we write a short story in about fifteen minutes or less. I've decided to put together the short stories I've done on Wattpad. I've also r...
