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Post by Deleted on Apr 7, 2014 12:07:14 GMT
I'm glad I've made a difference to your day! That's good. I might try and write more later. It's just a pity that we still haven't got that news we were meant to have today!
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Post by LdySpace on Apr 8, 2014 2:11:10 GMT
Not lazy, awesome! I hope that you have a good vacation!
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Post by spiderman on Apr 8, 2014 2:32:29 GMT
Amelia, your stories are fantastic! Please keep writing whatever you do. They are very inspirational.
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Post by comicforce on Apr 8, 2014 6:15:12 GMT
Agreed.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 8, 2014 7:05:47 GMT
Oh wow guys! Thanks
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Post by Deleted on Apr 8, 2014 21:36:36 GMT
Take a Bullet I wrote another chapter. It's short. Sorry. I'd give you a doughnut to make up for it but I ate them all. {Chapter Two}Jonny rolled his eyes as he listened to Chris rant down the phone. He was rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, trying to find something to eat.
“Look, Chris, when was the last time you went to bed?” he asked, stopping his activities. “You're talking nonsense. We've got better things to worry about than stupid people in stupid suits running around with guns!”
“Yeh, but Jonny, what if I was right?” Chris said.
“Well, you're not. Go to sleep. Go for a run. DO SOMETHING!”
“Fine,” Chris replied and ended the call. Jonny was probably right anyway; he needed some sleep. Time to rearrange his thoughts, think things over. But then again, there was always the thought; the fear that something was going to happen. He sunk into a chair, rested his head against the back of the seat, and let a large breath out. Every wall seemed to scream that there was someone behind it; every mirror begged for him to look.
They all whispered to him, like a crowd that knew something he didn't. His reflection morphed into different shapes every time he saw it. His mind was truly playing tricks on him, and the worst part was that he couldn't escape it.
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Later that night, Chris was back in his corner again. He watched the seconds tick by on his watch. Nothing came through the window, but it would only take a few seconds if someone chose to. He leaned back against the wall again, and closed his eyes.
And, though he didn't mean to, he went to sleep.
Silent, warm, welcoming sleep.
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Post by prissieb on Apr 8, 2014 21:52:01 GMT
Love it, Amelia. After Row said she liked the UK video of Trouble I watched it tonight. The video made me think of your story. It seems to fit in perfectly!
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Post by comicforce on Apr 8, 2014 22:21:35 GMT
Yes.. excellent as usual.
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Post by LdySpace on Apr 9, 2014 1:13:41 GMT
No such thing as too short - thanks! I love the anticipation.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 9, 2014 7:23:50 GMT
Take a Bullet Thanks for all your lovely comments so far, guys! Now, here's a LONG chapter! Weren't expecting that, were you? {Chapter Three}Knocking. Someone's knocking on the door. Wake up.
Chris awoke with a start. He'd fallen asleep! What an idiot… he could've been killed! He stood up and quickly swept down the stairs to answer the door. It was Jonny.
“Chris! Did you sleep? When was the last time you had a bath?” Jonny asked, taking a step back. Chris looked back at him with exhausted eyes and blinked slowly. He could feel himself starting to sleep as his eyelids covered his eyeballs.
“Well, I fell asleep. But I didn't mean to. And no, I haven't showered. It's too dangerous,” Chris said adamantly.
“Are you going to come outside?” Jonny asked, as if he were talking to a small child.
“No,” Chris said and began to close the door. But as it was at about halfway, Jonny pushed it open again.
“Yes, you are,” he insisted, pulling his friend through the doorframe.
They walked at a steady pace down the street, Jonny looking as casual as possible and Chris shuffling along beside him, hands in pockets, looking from side to side at every opportunity. They turned a corner. Chris stopped, and checked his surroundings. He practically sniffed the air in case of any reason to turn back.
“Chris, hurry up!” Jonny sighed, and ran back over to him. “How old are you, two? No one's going to kill you!”
Chris looked round at Jonny and gave him an angry look.
“But what if —” Chris started.
“I don't care,” Jonny cut in. “Right, we're going to the newsagent. And you're going to buy a chocolate bar. And you're going to do it normally, and when we come back out of the shop, you're going to be alive, and if you see any paps, you're going to hide. Got it?”
“Jonny I really don't —”
“Good,” Jonny replied and shoved Chris towards the shop entrance.
Once inside, Chris looked around in the same way he had done on the street. There were magazines in one corner — he tried not to look at those. Along the opposite wall, there were snacks. That's where the chocolate bars would be. But what stood out to him most were the people in the shop. Any one of them could have a gun. Any one of them could be out to get him.
Suddenly, he heard something behind him.
“Sorry, are you going to buy something or not?”
He turned around. It was a woman with two children, but he wasn't fooled. Surely it was her. She probably had the weapon in her coat. The children had probably seen a million murders before — his would be normal to them. He raced out of the shop and down the street, whisking past Jonny as he went. He turned towards The Bakery. He could hear footsteps behind him; he had to keep going. He reached the door at the end of the alleyway.
It was locked.
He tried desperately to find the key, but it was too late. He had been caught.
However, a familiar Scottish accent met his ears.
“Chris?”
Chris turned around quickly and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Guy! I thought you were some kind of crazy psycho killer!” he cried. Guy gave him a confused look.
“Has Jonny been telling you those stories about me? They're not true!” he joked and laughed. “Speak of the devil,” Guy said as Jonny rushed round the corner, out of breath.
“Chris! You're crazy!” Jonny said, trying desperately to get some air into his lungs. “And you run so fast! You were so close to doing it… give it a few days and you won't be scared anymore!”
“What is this, a psychology course?” asked Guy sarcastically. “You guys are mad. At least Will's sane.” And with that, he walked back to the pavement and carried on down the street.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 9, 2014 10:05:31 GMT
Love it, Amelia. After Row said she liked the UK video of Trouble I watched it tonight. The video made me think of your story. It seems to fit in perfectly! Now you mention it, it does seem to fit quite well! That's cool
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Post by LdySpace on Apr 9, 2014 20:18:04 GMT
Wow, surprise chapters!! If I don't expect it, then maybe another one will appear? *acting very casual
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Post by comicforce on Apr 10, 2014 8:23:18 GMT
Acts the same.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 10, 2014 10:45:11 GMT
Haha you guys I had a long night last night, but I'll rustle up something later. And then I'm going on holiday for a few days… I might write lots while on holiday and then post an epic several chapter post when I get back
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Post by Deleted on Apr 10, 2014 12:55:40 GMT
Take a Bullet I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaack {Chapter Four}Chris shuffled into the waiting room. There were lots of other people there — some sat, some stood, some read magazines. But they were all silent. He sat down in a seat as far away from anyone else as he could.
He didn't really want to be there; Will and Jonny had made him go. He didn't need help, he just needed some peace and quiet. He was sane. Inwardly, he was completely and utterly sane — or that's what he thought.
Chris looked inconspicuously around the room. There were posters on the wall talking about depression and suicide and all manner of horrible mental illnesses. A rather angry looking man in the far corner shot him a look, causing Chris to quickly get his phone out and scroll through the home screen. He swiped left and right with a kind of nervous energy, being careful not to look up. He didn't need more fear. Not now.
“Chris Martin?” the receptionist called out, and directed her icy-coloured eyes in his direction. The sound of his name caused a few heads in the waiting room to turn. He could practically read each one of them like an open book. His only thought as he got up was how much the newspapers would pay for the story.
He directed himself through a door. It was a strange cream-yellow colour — the kind that made everything look ten years older than it already was. It led to a corridor, and before long he found himself in front of another door. It had ‘DR BAKER’ written on it in large, menacing letters. He took a deep breath, and pushed the door.
It opened out into a large room, with a dark red carpet and huge windows on one wall. Outside, there were a few trees and an old fence. Fog blanketed the whole scene, making it hard to see clearly.
“Please take a seat over there,” the psychiatrist said. Chris obliged and sat down in an uncomfortable chair.
“So you're here because of paranoia,” she remarked and typed something into her computer.
“Yes…”
“So what exactly are you scared of?” she asked with a piercing gaze.
Chris paused for a moment. A few seconds ticked by.
“I'm scared of death. And more specifically, how I'm going to die,” he said. It hadn't meant to come out like that. It had made much more sense in his head.
The psychiatrist paused as if waiting for him to say more. Suddenly, the words flowed out like water.
“My friend got shot and then another was almost shot and I'm next and I'm going to die. That's why I'm scared. I'm scared of the truth.” The words still didn't say everything he wanted them to. He suddenly had a crushing, pathetic feeling inside him and a strong urge to leave. He didn't need to be here. His feelings were useless; other people needed more help than him.
“Are you having trouble sleeping at all?” she asked, tapping the keyboard a few times.
A sudden flurry of images burst through Chris's mind, most of them ones that he didn't want to share. He'd spent the last few nights in the corner of his bedroom in constant fear. “I never want to sleep. I'm too scared, but the other night I slept accidentally. I felt horrible when I woke up, you know? Like I'd just failed myself.”
The woman pulled her features into a tight smile and clicked several different points on the screen.
The next thirty minutes flew by in a blur. Chris ended up back outside the building with a packet of prescription drugs resting in his hands. He started walking. The gravel beneath his feet crunched as he crossed it. He could only think about everything he'd forgotten to say and everything he shouldn't have said.
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