Bullets - no one - Wattpad

Story cover for Bullets by nooneanonymouse

Bullets

nooneanonymouse

Reads 14
Votes 0
Parts 2
Time 9m

Reads 14
Votes 0
Parts 2
Time 9m

nooneanonymouse

I am a coward

I cry every night to the sound of gun fire.

I try to work, but I can't.

I think suicide is the only way out.

I'm not happy.

I just want everything back to normal.

Where is home?

Why do I stay?

For my family.

When the war is over, all you see is bullet shell casings. 

All you remember is the bullets.

The bullets.All Rights Reserved

Table of contents

2 parts

Sign up to add Bullets to your library and receive updates

or

Content Guidelines

You may also like

The Rich Emo: Ouran High School Host Club by graciegreat

Loneliness. Depression. Broken. Scared. Devastated. Hopeless. Mournful. Disheartening. Bleak. Joyless. Somber. I have no one. Depression and Loneliness are the only things I feel. My family tries to make me happy, but I just put on a fake smile and cry about it in my room. They act like everything is alright, but everything is not. They KNOW I was devastated about Mom's murder. They KNOW I was heartbroken about Dad's sickness that eventually killed him. That's all I've thought about. Devastation and heartbroken. Just because of those two things. Never in my life I have been this devastating. Dayton, Hayden, Angel, or Monica know how to make me truly happy. Not even my own siblings know how to make me show a real smile. Suicide is all I can think about day to day and I've almost died because of that. DEPRESSION IS A REAL THING. NO ONE KNOWS HOW I FEEL EVERYDAY. NO ONE CAN JUDGE OTHERS ABOUT DEPRESSION OR EVEN MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS A REAL THING. DEPRESSION HAS KILLED PEOPLE. EVERYONE IN MY LIFE JUDGES ME JUST BECAUSE I DON'T SMILE, LAUGH, HUG, OR DO ANYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO. I CUT MYSELF, I CRY, I YELL, I VENT, I PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE. Those are the things people are worried about me. "Go kill yourself and join your parents in hell." They say and I just shrug it off and find a private place to hide and cry it out. "I CAN'T DEAL WITH LIFE ANYMORE!!!!" I say and I use my sharp nails and cut myself then cry some more. A gun is buried within my arm for defense from my dad, but I use it in case I am tired of society. Then that's when I met the Host Club. They saw my sadness and made me a part of it to repay my debt for accidentally breaking a vase. I am now a Host for men to flatter them, but how can normal guys want me to be a Host when I wear lip earrings, eyeliner, chains, and have a gun in my arm? I'm the definition of Hell. Then he made me smile again, something that I thought I would never get back. Happiness.

Dystopia Rising by GravityWillFall01

The world ended long ago, riddled with plague and zombies and destruction. But humanity survived, and humanity evolved. The Infection that helped bring the world to its knees also changed humans in ways to help them keep living in this now broken world ready to be rebuilt. Seven lineages with three strains each, and each have their own unique set of traits that help us survive. But that's not what this story is about-at least, not really. This story isn't about how a hero will rise and bring the world back to what it was Pre-Fall. This story is about me, an ordinary Remanat living life through the world day to day as a mercenary. A beginner mercenary as everyone likes to remind me. The others in my group have been calling me 'Rookie' since I joined them three months ago. I'm beginning to wonder if they actually know my name. We have been hired to help the New Reach Caravan travel across the wastelands to Philly Del Phia, and this is the perfect opportunity to show them that I'm not just a dumb Rookie. I'm actually quite good at my job. I just happen to get distracted by one certain Eight-Ball, but it's not my fault he's good-looking, and charming, and funny... Anyway, all I have to do is help my group get the caravan to Del Phia. Should be an easy enough job. Just avoid the zoms and keep clear of the Raiders, and we should be fine... Right? Disclaimer: I do not own Zombies, Run! or its characters, nor do I own Dystopia Rising LARP. This is just my Rookie's reaction to the Dystopia Rising New Adventure in the Zombies, Run! App.

Runaway by Sweetslover8

I've been on the run for three years. I'm not the first, but I certainly won't be the last. For as long as I can remember, I had been experimented on, drugged to the brink of insanity, and tortured by someone I thought was my family. Boy, was I wrong. This isn't one of those stories where I suddenly get a huge boost of courage and defeat the bad guys then live happily ever after. I don't believe in that stuff anymore. Instead, I was a coward, and ran for my life, for my freedom, because I was too afraid to stand and fight and risk losing control like the monster they had created me to be. I've been too many people, have moved too many times. Now, I wonder if I will finally be able to find a place to call home... I won't allow myself to be captured before I even have a chance at that. Because if do, I'm as good as dead. © Sweetslover8 ~August 26th, 2013 ***Please note that the following is a work of fiction. Any names, events or occurrences of any kind coinciding with real life are purely coincidental.***

White Top Hats by Ashley_Bronner

It started when the rain fell. As it hit the windows rhythmically, I fought my sleep. Fighting off the demons in my dreams. I hadn't realized how real that dream became. Waking up to terrified screaming. My heart racing, the lighting striking and my family begging for their lives. I claimed myself as a coward that very same night. I hated myself. My depression became the best of me. What's worst then your family being slaughtered? Hiding in the closet from the killers. I should've helped, I should've been there for them. The pain between my chest and stomach was growing guilt. So I started thinking smart. Looking at everyone differently. I decided to reopen their cold cases. And when I found the truth it hit me deep.

My Glide On Death by Viraj_v1

The year was 2098. I was a spacecraft and jet pilot during an era of relative peace. No robotic apocalypses, no zombie outbreaks, no meteor showers-nothing of the sort. Humanity had even established a presence on Mars. Yet, beneath this calm, a sinister force was thriving on the Red Planet. Whispers of a terrorist organization began circulating, hidden within the colonies. Now, they have completely seized Mars for their own dark motives. This group, The Mars Philanthropics (MP), had a name steeped in irony. They claimed to be "lovers of mankind," but in reality, they were far from benevolent. Their so-called charitable mission concealed a darker agenda. I wasn't a member of the military. Instead, I led my own organization-TAF (Terrorist Annihilator Force). Though small in size, we boasted the most seasoned and capable operatives. When the government realized the extent of MP's influence, they turned to us for help. This wasn't just another mission-it was a call to action against the most pervasive terrorist group in history. I'm regarded as the best spacecraft pilot, but this mission will challenge everything I've ever known. But now I face a choice more difficult than any before: let my friends-who are like a family for me-die or kill a family member who is nothing more than a stranger to me. Will I complete the mission? Or will the shadows consume us all? Only time-and fate-will reveal the answers. (Updated once in a week atleast)

The Carriers by JarrynPaige

Completed! #1 in government conspiracy as of 10/19/18 #6 in outbreak as of 10/10/18 #7 in corruption as of 8/12/18 #62 in apocalypse as of 8/7/18 #11 in government as of 8/9/18 The year is 2213. Everyone was evacuated from the home planet over 150 years ago. Our planet was dying, it was only a matter of time before our race was wiped out. We now live on a synthetic planet designed and built by our ancestors who came together from all parts of the globe to devise a plan to save us. We have lived peacefully for over a century.. Until now. Our lives were threatened when a mysterious and deadly virus broke out, killing entire communities at a time. The council says that they have a plan; they said that in order to prevent the death of more innocent people they will test every man, woman, and child for signs of the virus. Any person found to have been infected will be quarantined, the ones who die will be given a proper burial while the ones who survive are deemed carriers and are to be sent to the home planet to prevent further outbreak. I was prepared for the people I know and some I love being taken away for the greater good, but I never would have expected that among the list of people being taken from my community, that I would be one of them.. I survived the quarantine. Now for the survival of my planet I, and the other Carriers must be sent to the home planet. I'm going back to Earth. (This is not based on The 100 but there are similarities.) (Some violent themes, but other than that is entirely clean.) Please comment if you have any questions or concerns. This is a first draft so it is definitely not perfect yet.. Thank you! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked about the intricate knots that he had tied so swiftly. He paused. "Jail." I glared at him in shock at what had just come out of his mouth. "Seriously?" His straight face broke into a grin. "No. Boy Scouts."

Survivor's Remorse by MADDINK0318

It'd been a few years since the end of the wars and I'd still had yet to recover from the trauma we'd endured at the hands of the Capitol. How do you move forward when darkness sucks you back in every time?

You don't know me by You_Dont_Know_Me9374

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ Not for the faint of heart, I explore dark parts of my mind and unfurl them for your own enjoyment. All of these stories are true. You don't know me, and you're never going to. This is basically just a shitty diary of my life with very few details as to who I am, Don't want to scare you off. Feel free to read but I don't really care. I'm just a screwed up guy that everyone knows and nobody cares about really. If you can't tell I'll probably swear quite a bit in this so if you don't like that I'm sorry, but this really isn't a good read anyway it's just me complaining about the fact I still exist. Actually no, whilst I did start this to complain about my life, the stories are fluctuating, as I discover I am infact worthy of love, even I don't believe it at all times. I hope you enjoy my rantings. ⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

FAKE by Alex_Kahill

PROLOGUE My name is Alex Kahill. On July 15, 2017, I killed a person, but am not accused of murder. However, I am being hunted by those who hold me responsible for this death...and most certainly, these folks fully intend to terminate my life. Three months ago, my life was actually better than good. I was taking a personal sabbatical in picturesque Western New York, doing three things that I dearly love. (1) Riding my bike (2) Flying my drone and (3) Visiting my son, Ben, who was interning as an environmental reporter for the Chautauqua Daily, a local paper serving the Chautauqua Institution. Better than good. And then out of nowhere, my existence went to shit. You know, the killing thing. So I'm writing this journal as a cry for help. In an effort to make some sense of the tragic events that have recently unfolded in my life, I'm hoping that if enough light is shed on what happened to me, my potential demise might literally become "troublesome" for those who would do me harm...maybe I'm just being naive, but it's worth a shot. At this point, I don't really have much to lose. I am no writer, so please bear with me. But know that I am totally vulnerable, so I'll try to be thorough as I tell my story. It probably would be good to start at the beginning.

They Call Me Daring by GreenPastels

Let's get one thing straight here, I'm not a hero (I totally am, but I hear that these days being modest is in fashion or something, so I don't know man). I never planned on being a hero. It kind of just happened. Clark's the bigshot. The fame, the girls, the attention. Me? I'm just his loser younger brother. Another rich Trackerson kid, but that quiet one with no personality. I'm kidding. I'm funny. I promise. I have to be. The name's Liam. The apocalypse wasn't easy on anyone, but it was harder on some. We made it okay. My family lives in a mansion, and we basically run this town. I come from a line of famous zombie-hunters. Not me, though. I kind of suck. I was never supposed to get bitten. I'm running out of time. I'm turning, and it's happening fast. People are rising up, feuds are breaking out, the world is ending all over again; and it's all up to me to stop it. Or something. Crazy, right? Anyway, I've got to go. I guess the good part is, if they find out my secret-if they kill me-at least not many people are going to miss me. I just hope they get my name right. L-I-A-M. It's not hard. Please, for the love of humanity, remember my name. Whatever they call me after all this, remember my name.

You may also like

Slide 1 of 10

The Rich Emo: Ouran High School Host Club cover

Dystopia Rising cover

White Top Hats cover

My Glide On Death cover

The Carriers cover

Survivor's Remorse cover

You don't know me cover

They Call Me Daring cover

The Rich Emo: Ouran High School Host Club

Loneliness. Depression. Broken. Scared. Devastated. Hopeless. Mournful. Disheartening. Bleak. Joyless. Somber. I have no one. Depression and Loneliness are the only things I feel. My family tries to make me happy, but I just put on a fake smile and cry about it in my room. They act like everything is alright, but everything is not. They KNOW I was devastated about Mom's murder. They KNOW I was heartbroken about Dad's sickness that eventually killed him. That's all I've thought about. Devastation and heartbroken. Just because of those two things. Never in my life I have been this devastating. Dayton, Hayden, Angel, or Monica know how to make me truly happy. Not even my own siblings know how to make me show a real smile. Suicide is all I can think about day to day and I've almost died because of that. DEPRESSION IS A REAL THING. NO ONE KNOWS HOW I FEEL EVERYDAY. NO ONE CAN JUDGE OTHERS ABOUT DEPRESSION OR EVEN MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS A REAL THING. DEPRESSION HAS KILLED PEOPLE. EVERYONE IN MY LIFE JUDGES ME JUST BECAUSE I DON'T SMILE, LAUGH, HUG, OR DO ANYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO. I CUT MYSELF, I CRY, I YELL, I VENT, I PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE. Those are the things people are worried about me. "Go kill yourself and join your parents in hell." They say and I just shrug it off and find a private place to hide and cry it out. "I CAN'T DEAL WITH LIFE ANYMORE!!!!" I say and I use my sharp nails and cut myself then cry some more. A gun is buried within my arm for defense from my dad, but I use it in case I am tired of society. Then that's when I met the Host Club. They saw my sadness and made me a part of it to repay my debt for accidentally breaking a vase. I am now a Host for men to flatter them, but how can normal guys want me to be a Host when I wear lip earrings, eyeliner, chains, and have a gun in my arm? I'm the definition of Hell. Then he made me smile again, something that I thought I would never get back. Happiness.