The prosecter

February 25, 2009
By Goinwifflove SILVER, Bronx, New York
Goinwifflove SILVER, Bronx, New York
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Its dark and cold in the room.
I shiver.
The window is bricks and has bars For it's protection.
I fidgit in my steal metal seat.
My neck hurts.
Being who i am is crazy.
The things i didnt want to do.
My fists are balled up and put next to my chin.
Im bored.
My faded white clothes seem the same color as the walls.
Minutes past and the knob doesnt turn.
Help me.
They want me eto leave and fly high.
More minutes past.
And the light on the ceiling hovers around and around llike a helicopter.
I hide under the desk on the cold dirty floor.
A sudden breeze sweeps through.
And the light on the ceiling hovers faster and faster.
The doorflys open and slams shut.
Their here.
The table flips to the side and vanishes into the darkness of the other side.
Run away.
It comes closer and closer and closer.
I feel something as i back up.
another it.
But it has something a jacket.
Running away to the door, help me.
The its catch me and attach me to the stale coat.
They drag.
I kick.
They shout.
I scream.
We're there one says
The room is full of lights.
My eyes.
They slam me on the table.
I wiggle and fidgit trying to break loose.
But no use, im dying.
They grab something pointy and sharp and put it near my skin.
Its hurts. Bad.
They take it out and my eyes feel heavy.
The room seems a blurr.
I resist my eyes from closing but they do on its own.
My life as me is over.

The author's comments:
i felt like writing this because of movies and books i read.

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