My short stories
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:27pm
Thread Topic: My short stories
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lovehorses99 NewbieThis are I few sort stories I wrote...Please tell me what you think!
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The bullets spatted into the plane. Jessie Miller felt a sickening pain in his left shoulder, then felt a warm stickiness running down his arm. Glass flew up into his face from the broken windshield; Flames started to lick the planes tail. He knew he would have to bail out. He lifted the hatch and swung himself out onto the planes wing. Standing there for a split second shielding his face from the hungry flames he jumped. He had a queer sensation of falling and the world seemed to go in slow motion. Then he pulled the cord on his parachute. He was jerked upright then he felt dizzy and his shoulder throbbed unbearably, His head fell forward onto his chest and all was black.
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Morocco, the brooding desert, silent and mysteries beneath a timeless moon; On a crest of a sand dune near banure, a white robed rider reins in his horse and for a moment stands there motionless, etched against the pale blue sky; no sound, no movement now. Till suddenly he lifts his voice, a wild sobbing cry was torn from his lips and carried far across the desert, An ancient Arab call, as old as the desert, as old as this earth. There now is silence and the rider seems to be waiting. He repeats the eerie call, it goes rolling across the desert sands and then from far way it seems the call is repeated. First from one shadowed dune then from another until a hundred voices, take it up. The silence in now gone and a hundred riders all clothed in white gallop up to the leader. These are the outcasts of the many Arab tribes banded together under one man- El Khobar.
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His face was calm and peaceful and he was standing in the middle of the arena with thousands of people jeering and screaming taunts at him; At a glance it would seem that he was oblivious to all this going around but looking closer his face was set and pale. He was only very young; only a boy, around fourteen. His black hair was dishevelled and his blue eyes were sad and full of pity for the people in the stands watching. All of a sudden, the crowd fell silent, the boy turned around and a wild fear flashed across his face but it was gone in an instant, it was as calm as before but whiter and his eyes showed the fear he felt; before him at the other end of the arena stood two half-starved lions. The lad straightened his shoulders and looked at the two lions steadily. One of the many spectators stood up
Death to the Christ follower! he yelled
At this, one of the lions lifted his head and roared his defiance at the crowd; the second saw the youth and trotted forward. At this the lad closed his eyes, bowed his head and his lips moved. This made the crowd start to mock and jeer; the lad looked up and saw the two lions trotting toward him. He showed no fear and stood tall, as he looked his death in the face.
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He was being pushed slowly back, he could not help it, the weight of numbers was so great, then he felt the rough wood of the mast at his back and he was stopped there. There he would make his stand and there he would probably die. His sword weaved a steel net of defence around him and try as the British sailors did they could not break it. Sometimes one of their number would go down as the lone man broke his own defence, not in surrender, but with the sole thought to thin down the numbers facing him. One of the attackers lunged forward and he felt the cold steel of that mans sword in his left shoulder, the sailor paid for that with his life. He was weakening; he could feel his strength going with the blood that ran from his shoulder and for the other small cuts that he had received. He took a quick look around him and saw that he was the last man, the other pirates either had given up or where dead. He alone was fighting. He smiled grimly it was a queer sinister smile which did not fit his handsome young face, he was the captain and it was fitting that he should be the last to fall.
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They stood there in the rain, the youth in an army trench coat and the girl in an old but clean raincoat. They stood there oblivious to the pelting rain and everyone around them, the girls tears mingled with the rain and the lads eyes where none to dry either.
Alan, you cant go, you will be killed, I saw the wounded coming back, some blind, some crippled and somesome mad!! You cant go, I wont let you, the girl sobbed out
Alan was about 20, nearly 6 ft he had sandy-red hair and Irish blue eyes, and he put out his hand and lifted the girls face, the rain splashed against her face. Her tears where washed away by the rain and her raven black hair streamed back over her back,
Marie, you cant stop me, I am ordered back, and I have to go! Alan told her, he lent closer and kissed her, the stood back
Shut your eyes..he told her
She did so, Allen wisped in her ear
Adieu my love he whispered and walked quickly away, the drops on his face not only rain
When she looked up again he was gone.
(That one was screwy! :) )
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THERE
please what do you guys think? -
Sad bump
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