Create A story By Finishing This Sentence.

Today’s prompt for Post A Day 2011 is this:

Write a story by finishing this sentence. The story can be as long or short as you wish.

So I thought I’d give it a go (be kind I’m ill). The sentence is…

I told him where I was going, and he hurried me out, pointing to the door with the gun, but what he didn’t know was…

That without my friend we would never get there. I had no idea of the exact location but the gun in his hand convinced me to act otherwise. obediently I stepped towards the door, the paint on which was peeling and the old brass handle had started to rust.

As I passed through the door frame I felt pressure against the small of my back. A warning. A reminder. Don’t try to be heroic and attack, don’t try to be cowardly and run, just do what I’m told. 

As tempting as it was to falter in my tracks I forced myself to continue. Panic had flooded my entire body, my breathing was shallow, my heart thundered against my chest and much to my shame my eyes began to water.

I couldn’t cry. How pathetic. But what else was there to do? Turn round and summon up my conveniently latent martial art skills? Somehow I don’t think that’s much of a plan.

In my panic I hadn’t noticed that we had made it all the way to the front door. The guy opened it and the cold air buffeted my face, rousing me from my frenzied wonderings.

The night was harsh and it grazed against my cheeks, stung my eyes and cleared my mind. The was a murmur of voices nearby and the muffled roar of traffic.

If I could make my way to the road I’d have a pretty good chance of getting away. They wanted to stay undercover, there was no chance they’d shoot me in front of a whole crowd of people. Or at least, I hoped not.

I don’t consider myself a religious person but in that moment I prayed for a distraction. I would have thrown myself to my knees, clasped my hands together and shouted to the heavens if there was a chance it wouldn’t look suspicious.

And guess what. My prayers remained unanswered. Guess I’d just have to resort to violence. Screwing up all the strength that I had in my petite body I swiftly connected the back of my foot with his shin. He gave a small yelp and dropped the gun. Well that was easy. I smashed my elbow into the side of his head, you know, for good measure.

And then I ran. My elbow hurt from the blow but I ignored it. Breathing deeply I desperately headed for the sanctuary of the street. My heart pounded in time with my feet, they echoed, eerily, almost sluggishly. The tears had spilled over now cutting warm trails where the chill of the wind had laid claim.

There was a scrabbling behind me. Another wave of panic, another spurt of speed, another bout of tears. A few moments before the gun sounded I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I knew that I would fall just yards from safety. The clarity of this shot through me, almost foreshadowing the bullet.

The ground was hard. That was all I could think. Nothing else registered and before I could call out rough hands had grabbed me. I had no strength to fight. It would only cause much more pain and maybe, if I survived, I should just cooperate with them.

Before I properly lost consciousness I was thrown unceremoniously into the boot of a car hidden in the shadows. I didn’t know if the darkness that pressed in on me was because of my enclosed surroundings or my injury taking its toll on me.


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