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A Creative Writing Creative writing A loud crack was sounded, like a gunshot, and unknown to Hale, a smear of his own blood was pasted across the wall behind him. The empty glass fell, stopping inches above the floor. Hale looked down in amazement, racking his brain trying to think of a logical explanation. Hale had always been a logical person looking for logical answers to illogical problems, but this had him stumped. Hale, hesitating knelt down to get a closer look at the glass, looking for strings or supports, but finding none. What s wrong Hail?
a voice calmly said, as if nothing extraordinary was happening. Scared of a little glass? The voice was rough but still sounded youthful. Hale looked up from his now crouched position, looking for a face to put with the voice, instead he found a crowded room, silent, motionless, frozen. Hale didn t like the situation one bit, standing up slowly, he tried to say something but no words could be force from his dry throat, his eyes wide open, he stood observing, thinking of an explanation for this. Cat got your tongue?
The voice came again, laughing at Hale. Wha, who, what do you? Hale couldn t find the words let alone the courage to say them to this now louder voice. A dream Shouted Hale smiling, that s all he shouted almost busting with fear, covered with laughter, a dream!
he shouted again as if in some kind of triumph. The laugh came again, bursting through the silence shattering Hales ears, and no sooner had it come shit bag, went again into the back of Hales mind where it would linger for the rest of his life, screaming the haunting sound through the silence. Hale sat down on the stained wooden barstool to his right and rested his head in his large hands. He ran his open fingers through his dark brown hair and listened to the screaming silence and closed his eyes. Opening his eyes, Hale found the pub alive with laughter and song. He stood up sharply, surprised by the normality of the atmosphere.
It was a dream, Hale said with the indistinct knowledge that it was not. The glass was still suspended above the floor as well as most of the customers in the pub were frozen, whilst the others were moving in a robotic fashion that made no sense to Hale or his situation. Hale ran, he didn t know where he was going but he had to get out of the pub, he had to escape the madness, and the boy. It had completely slipped his mind, the fact that he had just been threatened, promised even that he would die. This made Hale pick up his pace.
His polished, black, shinny shoes slammed down, echoing around the back streets of Brighton, until he reached an opening, a way out of the mayhem, but Hale knew he was heading for the high street. As he reached the opening onto the street, Hale felt a chill shoot down his spine. What are you running from Fred? Hale turned to see the boy stood, not out of breath like Hale, leaning on the wall next to an overflowing garbage can. Why the rush? The boy said walking towards Hale with an angry look frozen across his face.
Hale realised that there once again was silence, and he was apart of it. I wish I could kill you now The boy said gritting his teeth while clenching a tight fist and reaching back as if preparing to hit Hale. I guess a little revenge wouldn t hurt. Me that is! The boy smiled deviously knowing what he was about to do. Hale turned and ran, only to find himself in the same position as he was, waiting for this thump to hit him.
He raised his arms to shield himself, but again found he was in the same position as he was before. It was hopeless for Hale to struggle because every time he moved, he was moving into the same position as he was in before, standing tall facing forward, arms by his side, glued to the spot and stance like a statue. It was the first time Hale had been hit properly by another person and it hurt. As soon as the boys fist had made contact with Hales face Hale was released and spun around from the impact on his bare flesh. Hale spun to the ground to a sheltering heap of body, looking up, powerless waiting for the next blow to come, but it never did. The boy wasn t there anymore he had disappeared without a sound or trace.
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Research essay sample on Creative Writing Didn T
