The Attic

Okay. So this is just a trip. I experiment on writing short stories at times...and I came up with this. It is unfinished, and senseless. I have no idea what will happen to the story next but I liked the settings of being in war and stuff...

       Elise curled upon the corner and tightly clutched her bended legs. She buried her face upon her knees. All she could feel was the hunger, for she had not eaten lunch since yesterday. Where were they? She always looked forward to Mrs. Ambridge's daily ration of food. If she showed up twice in one day, she considered herself sorely blessed, and so did the others, for they still had to share the food to one another.

She ran her fingers through her wrist. Her skin felt dry, and when she looked at her whole hand, she thought it was quite bony, for a young girl her age. But considering her state of living right now, she was still healthy.

    

     Mitchell and Joanna were beginning to get thin too...and so would she. All she had to do was count the hungry days, and sleepless nights.  They had already spent the last two weeks, hiding in the attic. Mrs. Ambridge's pure blessed soul had helped them stay alive. And to them, keeping their lives meant living through the worst conditions.

 

     Mrs. Ambridge, a woman who you would call pleasantly plump, had sheltered them from the horrific scenarios; their small country was going through right now. She knew she would be arrested for having communication, and even protecting them. Those young people. Innocently guilty of being born. Their only sin was their very own existence.

    

     They were to die, because they had lived. A fatal accident of destiny.

     Them being who they were.

     

Ambridge never wanted to be part of ANY crime. But her heart couldn't bear to see any more people she knew vanishing...and...Oh, how she wanted to forget that horrific fact.

She hated the fact that she hesitated to bring in Elise up to the attic when she met her. She knew it was against the law to even talk to a "person like her", but her conscience won over. She was doing the right thing. The good is never punished, she would always tell herself.

     * * *

     Elise heard familiar footsteps climbing the stone steps to the attic. It was Mrs. Ambridge, though it was quite different this time. The steps wren heavily laden, and rather slower. Elise stood up quickly and ran across the room. She leaned her head, gingerly, on the wooden door, closed her eyes and listened. Half-praying, that it wasn't any of the soldiers; her prayers seemed not to have taken effect, for she heard muffled voices. One was larger and deeper.

"Oh no." she breathed, rather hoarsely, and then leaned more tightly.

     Mitchell and Joanna looked alarmed. They too, followed her to the door, and leaned their ears as she did. Mitchell's hand slowly crept to the lock of the door. Twisting the circular lock on the knob, he motioned for Joanna and Elise to stay calm and keep quiet as the footsteps, slowly loudened and increased pace. Soon, they were hearing heaves.

     There was a sudden violent knocking on the door. Elise and Joanna gave faint screams of surprisement.

"Open the door." Mrs. Ambridge shouted, though trying to whisper at the same time. She sounded hectic.

Joanna's hand flung to the knob, but Mitchell knocked it away with his.

"Have you no common sense? She is not alone." Mitchell whispered hoarsely.
"What?" Joanna asked, staggered.
Elise stared at them both. Mitchell's blue eyes, eyeing Joanna, solidly.

Mrs. Ambridge knocked on the door, harder.
Mitchell ignored Joanna, and turned to the door. "You are not alone, Ambridge."
"Just open the door, Mitchell. I will not betray any of you, if that's what you think. Please hurry up. He get's heavier by the minute." Mrs. Ambridge replied hastily.
"He?" Elise repeated. She was carrying another person. She pushed Mitchell away from the door, and flicked the lock open.

Mrs. Ambridge's face was ghastly pale, when the three saw her. Her lips pursed together, eyes widened.

But what caught their attention more was the man, whose bloody arm was around her neck.

"Oh my lord." Joanna said.

Mitchell quickly grabbed the victim's right arm and flung it around him. He assisted the man inside, limping, even with the few steps he walked. He slowly lowered the young man down and leaned him against the wall, groaning. Blood stains painting the old cracked wall.

Mrs. Ambridge started to walk out the door hurriedly, but stopped and said, "He is wounded after running from the soldiers. Extremely, tired... My dears, I have to change my clothes before the officials see me bloodstained. Take care of him, would you? I'll be right back with medicine for the young man." With that, she was off.

Author's Note

What happened next? What happened to the story?
That's what they always ask.


Like I've said in the description...it is unfinished and senseless.

I play around with my ideas and fantasies a lot, so...when I sat down to face the blank computer screen at home with MS word open, I found myself writing this scene. I didn't know why, but I wanted to see how it was like hiding in an attic the way Anne Frank did.

I didn't begin the story, nor even ended it. I just wrote what I felt. >_<

I asked myself what it felt like when the only thing you have left to live is fear...and a few friends.
Hiding, wars, and stuff caught my amazement...but of course, I know it's not that cool in reality.

Inspiration? The holocaust after we studied it at school. Are you familiar with Anne Frank, the girl from the holocaust?

And to think that I'm only fifteen and writing such horrible stuff about the wars...>_<

Reviews

[Elvina CZq]

You've started the story well, and ended in a well-manner too. Although, I believe some readers might ask for more, but In my opinion, I think this is just the way a story should be - leaving mystery images for the readers to figure out. Sometimes, a story need not a very detail picture to be claimed as complete or whole. In this story, you have given the right images and ideas of how the rest of the story should go on. I find this story (short) is better to read than a long, too-much-details, and whole story.

I'm glad I came through this story. It really gives my mind some thoughts. Write on! :)