Short Stories

Thirteen: 450 Words

Saturday 30th September
8:46am

It is the cold, misty morning of September. Urban roads are busy, either eager to travel early to shopping or are driving to a weekend holiday at a fun fair, or a beach. Many people decide to spend their weekend in bed, which was a lot more wise, as they tuck themselves in their warm blankets.

The branches on the trees wave hello to the sky, and leaves begin slipping off, scattered around the trees like ripped paper all over the floor. The middle of Autumn comes closer, day by day.

The wind whistles as it flys past an old road, filled with taken parking spaces, and mostly quiet. There are ordinary houses on the road, ordinary people sleeping safely in their beds.

But from one house you can hear the creaking of a door, and slowly it opens. There, steps out a young girl, who looks around eighteen-nineteen years of age but as fragile as a  two year old. She has a band of flesh wrapped around her skin and she looked lucky enough to have at least that.

She has ripped rags for shoes, her hands and feet look dirty and she steps on to the ice cold, the last day of September with no shoes, nor gloves, nor a coat to accompany her.

The whsitle of the wind is the only sound against her soft, light footsteps. She steps closer, to the end of the pavement and looks left and right, catching sight of everything.

She seems relieved at first as she breathes in the fresh air, but almost instantly she seems scared, and without looking back at the house she had came out of, she runs towards her left. She keeps running and running, as if she has had so much energy though it had looks as if she is facing mild anorexia. But she could have done anything... anything to get away from that house.

She passes fences, and seemed small enough to fit through small crakes in wooden gates too. She seems to know where she is running, as anyone looking this lost would run in any direction and scream for help, and it seems she knows these streets pretty well. Then she reaches a phone box, as if she had already known it was there, and she runs towards it.

She picks up the phone and dialled 999.

"999, whats your emergancy?"

"Police," she mutters out of breath. "I need help."

Soon enough she finds the police on the phone. "H-hello. My name is M- Meghan Foxam. I had been kidnapped for thirteen years and... and now I have escaped."

Thirteen...
Everyones unlucky number

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Hey guys so I was inspired to do this by a TV programme called Thirteen (maybe some of you guys watched it.) And this is basically the story version of what happened in like the first ten minutes.

So hope you likey! =D

-Tyler