And the bombs struck

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Three jets streaked across the sky, making the whole house tremble. All of a sudden he was just a delicate flower, the wind blowing and tossing him around. He looked around and he found himself on the floor, sitting down, his drawings and stories spread out and fluttering down everywhere in the room. For a second he just sat, watching the paper fall like big ugly snowflakes. His little brown eyes moved from paper to paper as if fell silently to the floor. The boy got up from the floor and walked uncertainly to the window. Where were the sirens? The little boy left the window and ran downstairs into the kitchen, where he found his mother washing dishes. He stopped and stood at the bottom of the stairs for a second, (everything seemed fine) then ran back up to his room to collect his papers and draw. The little boy ran around, snatching his papers up off the floor and putting them in a stack, one by one in his tiny arms. In a heartbeat the house was shaking again as the jets flew over. But this time they carried something else besides their pilots. The bay doors opened slowly and the first bombs fell.
They plummeted down like deadly birds and hit the little town where the boy lived.
And just a second before they hit, they were suspended in air, in time, the last few seconds of life ticking away…
And the boy with the silent brown eyes ran.
Then they fell.
There were no sirens,
There was no warning.
The boy was running, his papers in his hands, his brown eyes wide with horror as he saw the first bomb fall. The house was ripped apart, the boy was blown back by the lethal blast. Just seconds away from the loving arms of his mother.
Just seconds away from safety.
The papers flew up, a white inferno, into the air as the boy was thrown to the floor. The roof crashed down. The boy was silent and unmoving...his eyes were closed.
And the house was smoking...reduced to nothing.
His papers lay everywhere scattered. Some were burned, others crumpled, some reduced to ash.
But there was one, that lay near the boy's head...a picture of mickey mouse with a gas mask over his face.






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SpeakerofWolvesThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 25 at 4:01 pm
Wow. That's really dark, yet I love it. Almost like a poem, yet in story form. It would be awesome if you could make the sequel to this! :)
 
KatieMc replied...
Aug. 26 at 2:05 am
Maybe I will...:3
 
KatieMc replied...
Aug. 26 at 2:05 am
Maybe I will...:3
 
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