The abandoned mission

The abandoned mission

The corridor darkened, the light started to fade away. The echo of his footsteps broke the silence, he slowly progressed through the corridor. As the man spotted something strange, he stopped. There was nothing but the increasing rhythm of his heart and the shaky legs of his. He knew he never wanted to do this but the fateful world left him with no other choice. For nights and days he wandered around his apartment like a lost soul, he knew he couldn’t live without her. He quickly advanced through the corridor with no hesitation. He found a spot where he he could firmly placed his sniper rifle without no-one noticing, the man set up the gun pointing straight to the parliament house. Any moment now, a guy will walk out, holding the peace agreement treaty paper. He had to kill him and whilst everyone was panicking, his next target would be the barrels just to make sure no evidence of this treaty would never be found. This event will result in another world war between Europe and USSR.

“Why?” he whispered to himself

That sort of question, if the answers and the correct solutions could be given, there’ll be no war, no conflict or any kind of brutal violence anymore. The grim of the old man appeared on his face, he was day dreaming he guess. That’s the place he knew he’d live happily with all his dreams fulfilled.

All of the sudden, he realized what his real intention of going here, quickly grabbed the rifile and there was the target, the treaty paper and the barrel.

He aimed at the prime minister, right at his head, his fingers are shaking, it’s barely touching the trigger, it never wanted to. With a minute of hesitation, he knew there was no other choice.

BANG.

The prime minister fell down as quick as a lightning. He collapse down the stage. It was never an easy decision to made, but he did it. Now, only the barrels to go. Every part of his body is forcing him to do it, everything except for him common sense. He knew he had every intention of killing the prime minister, but getting rid of everyone in the area? That’s not him.

The weather was freezing that night, but that didn’t stop his tears from falling. His fiance was kidnapped in front of his eyes, and there was nothing he could do. He was useless, he felt useless. Days later, he received this mission if he wants his fiance back. There was no choice.

Too concentrated in his mission, he never watched his back. The cops were following his trace back from his apartment, and without any notice, he lead the cops here. He decided to abandoned mission and head back home.

Suddenly, in a fraction of a second, he felt numb on his his neck, At first, he ignored as he thought he was just a small insect. He continued to pack his belongings but soon noticed the increasing numbness spreading in his body. He couldn’t move his head anymore, soon his hands, and now his whole body.

He knew it was over.

There was a dim of light in the corner, everything was darkness, it was impossible to move. He tried to open his eyes, a ray of light prevented him.

He was caught, he knew it was over.

Suddenly, he felt the warmth on the freezing cold hand of his.

“Jay, it’s me. I came back.”

Tawbi The Burman Rider

Hot Air Balloon Riders have always impressed me. I was never bored of watching those big balloons flying over me with some persons which I had never met before and had a bizarre skin colour. One day as a Balloon Rider came to me and asked me a question, but the question was in a language that I couldn’t understand at that time. Well I was only 5 years old and I was called Tawbi at that time. Yes, Tawbi that was my name.

Now I am 9 and I go to school 1 hour a day and 3 days a week just like all of my friends. When my friends proposed to go and play volleyball I said that I was going to the field to see the balloons one more time before they fly off. My friends knew I went there every day but still kept on laughing at me a s they had stopped watching since they were 6. I didn’t care about them my curiosity for those balloons was greater than anything. However today was different as I arrived there was nobody in the bucket bellow the balloon I thought that it was Buddha that gave me a sign and I grab the only hope I might ever have of going inside a hot air balloon.

As I climbed in the bucket I noticed that the sky was getting dark but I didn’t care as I was so impressed by all the valves and containers that made the fire start. I helped my dog in. He was called Longy he was 6 and had adopted me since he met me 2 years ago. We were inseparable. As I fiddled around with the control I accidently turned on the burner and a roaring Yellow flame shoot out of the burner and went flying in the balloon as I tried to stop it the balloon took off and rose to height of 1000 meters. I could see my house and all the tiny people below me shouting me orders in the same language that I couldn’t understand. However my joy went out as quickly as it came as I noticed a big white flash hitting the surface only 200 meters away from me. I was scared to death. I grabbed hold of Longy and went to the corner of the basket. The burner was still roaring. The people were still shouting orders which I could understand, but more importantly I was in danger.

When I woke up the next day I couldn’t see my home town of Bagan anymore. I could only see white powder on the ground. I could only feel cold. The burner had went silent and the only sound heard were my one breath and the wind. This wind that was pushing further away from my home. This wind that was taking the last few resources that I had out of me. This wind was Death’s breath coming to me before he took me to his home. I was starving. I felt my head get numb. I slowly drifted away and though of my mom one last time.

I woke up in a strange environment. The trees were grey, hard and cold. The noise was deafening and the smell was unbearable. I was indeed in Hell. As I went off the Balloon my dog was by my side as usual and I knew he will be with me forever. As I walked down the road I saw a lot of people who had grey faces and didn’t talk to each other. Everything was wrong in here all the surfaces were grey: the roads, the trees and even the people! As I thought that I was going to stay here forever I fell to the ground my eyes started to get wet my though got blurry and I cried. I cried like never before. I cried and cried but people just went around me without even looking. Until this person came. This person was all in colours he had a smile on his face and had the same clothes as mine. Not the black clothes that people were around me. He came to me and said:

-Why are you crying young boy? Where are your parents?

I was shocked I understood him. I said:

-You speak my language?

The man laughed loudly and said:

-Of coursed I do I come from the same country as you. You even wear the costum of my home town of Bagan.

- But we are in Hell

-No, he said laughing, we are just in Shangaii. It is very different form our country.

I cried again. He took me in his arms and said it is over you are safe now I will bring you home.

9 years later

Now I am in Bagan again my story became popular the man who saved me became my dad. I have two brothers now and I am now The Burman Hot Air Balloon Rider.

Haunted

Everywhere I go, I see him.


Behind every turn, around every corner, I would see him. His lingering figure, dark and crooked, waiting for my arrival. His ominous face hides behind a veil of darkness and his solemn eyes mask his undying agitation. He is a shadow; lurking behind my every move, pursuing my every step.


In exhaustion, I begin to slow my run down.

* * *

It all started a few weeks ago. I was just draining down my daily medication, and as I set the cup down, there, in the glass' reflection, was his face. In a frenzy of panic, I turned around, only to find the kitchen empty. I tried to reassure myself that the man was just a part of my imagination, but that didn't stop my heart from racing. Since then, I kept catching a glimpse of his brooding face. I laughed off each sighting but my anxiety only grew.


After two weeks, I sought for help. I turned to the leading psychiatrist in town who guaranteed a ninety-three percent success rate, but like the doctors I had been seeing, he couldn't cure me. He passed it off as the side effects of taking my regular pills.


"Hallucinations, it's a common reaction to such frequent medication."


But I knew better. Or so I thought I did.


At first, I was reluctant to cut back on my medicine. I needed them. Without them I wouldn't last, I wouldn't be able to function, I wouldn't be... alive. Yet, pretty soon, I became desperate. Afraid. Willing.


Slowly and methodically, I began to reduce my intake of pills: from a regular intake of six a day to five, then four, then three. Yet, the dark silhouette continued to reside his position behind every turn, around every corner. I tell myself that my paranoia is only just getting the better of me, but a silent and persistent voice inside my head knows better. His appearance has become even more frequent now more than ever, and his features more defined. I could now see clearly his sharp, jagged visage and bleak, foreboding figure. What frightens me the most, though, was
the fact that now, above all else, I could not only see him, but I could also feel his presence.


He taunts me, pulling my sanity at its seams.

* * *

Exhaustion devours my being.


All I hear is footsteps. Quiet, rhythmic footsteps. Slow, paced and steady, like the sound of my melodic heartbeat. Then a jerk in a perfectly uniformed beat, and a sudden tweak in my heart’s throb. The footsteps begin to quicken, and so do the length in which the seconds seem to pass. The faster my heart seems to beat, the faster the footsteps would become. A silent thought forms in my head, a thought I tried to keep so well hidden in the back of my mind.


He's here.


I break into a run again as my pulse begins to accelerate, but no matter how fast I run, or where I run, he is always one step behind me. He haunts me like a burdened spirit, threatening to swallow me whole.


I run down a narrow road, moving as fast as my legs can take me. My bare feet begin to plead for mercy as they bleed under the pressure of broken alcohol bottles and stray pebbles.


Slowing down, I risk a glance behind me. No one. As I take a moment to regain my breath, I finally hear it: the unmistakable sound of Death. Though vague, the sound of his muffled footsteps are undeniable. With every passing moment, they become more and more vivid, until suddenly, I can feel it. I can feel Death's intense eyes piercing into the back of my head, his glaciated breath strangling my neck, and his knife-edged hands clawing at my throat.


His unyielding grasp drags my limp body down to an eternal abyss.

First draft of my short story

The piano

A shocking news totally got me up, as I was having breakfast sleepily: “We’re moving”, said my dad, then he told us where our new house was. What a surprise!

“My piano will be delivered to the new house, won’t it?”

“Erm … yes … yes of course”

I looked at my piano, a small, black upright piano at the right corner of the living room. I had it when I was six and since that day, I played piano almost everyday. To me, it was more than just a piano, it’s a close friend of mine.

It was a busy day and I went to bed quite late. When I was about to sleep, one of the neighbours played a piano CD. That piece was so nice and relaxing that it quickly got me to sleep. Thanks to it, I had a really good sleep, and I wished that neighbour would keep playing that CD every night. And my wish came true. The next night, while I was sleeping, I heard it and still heard that same song, at the same time on the following night. Listening to it gave me the feeling of sadness and sorrow, the kind of emotion when we say farewell or goodbye. But it didn't sound like piano playing from a CD, it sounded very real, as someone was playing it and I guess it was quite close to my house. In the morning, I asked everyone in the house whether they heard that song or not. To my surprise, no one heard it but me and it seemed like a mystery.

As days went by, that piano song became regular and it was so relaxing, it turned out to be a little nice secret, during my sleep rather than a mystery. But the music is louder, more sorrowful and sounds really near to me than ever on that last night before we moved. It felt like something got me out of bed and went to the stairs. Standing on the stairs, I could hear that song so clear and real that made me think that it was definitely not from a CD anymore. As I got down few more steps, the music became louder and louder, and from my right. My piano! That’s why I could hear the music so close to me. I tried to stare at my piano in the darkness, but the black of it made it even harder for me to see anything. There’s no way my piano played by it self, unless … someone was playing it! I pulled myself together after being stunned in a minute. I felt scared, but curiosity got over me. So instead of running straight back to my room, I tiptoed down to the living room. The music sounded so near to me. I went straight to the switch and turned on with my shaking fingers. My heart nearly popped out when the light came up. The music stopped. Silence covered the room. Only I was standing there. Nothing’s special. I looked around and came to the piano. Everything was just the same as the last time I practiced. This couldn’t be weirder, I definitely heard that song coming from my piano. Couldn’t find any clues, I came back to my room with full of doubts and anxiousness.

In the next morning, the lorries arrived early. One of them carried my piano. Our new house is much bigger than the old one. However, that’s not what I was impressed at. At the centre of the living room located a black, brand new grand piano. I was so surprised and happy, I have always wanted to play such a big piano like in concerts. But then … where’s my old piano? I couldn’t see the lorry carried it outside the house.

“Where’s my little piano?”

“Oh… Haven’t I told you? Have been told that we’re moving, a friend of mine asked me about your piano, and at that time I already bought you this new one, so it’s been sold. I wanted to make a surprise to you. Isn’t this your dream, having a grand piano?” My father replied.

I just nodded. He told me to have a look at my room then left with my mother and sister to see the rest of the house. Standing alone in the room, looking at the new piano, the tune of sad song that I heard every night echoed in my mind …

Amadeus and Antonio

The music was heard again through the street of Vienna from yet at that moment it was the requiem mass for the dead.

“I confess…” the old composer shouted out in his sleep. The physician approached him with a look of anxiety on his face, as he sat down on the chair nearby he spoke to the housekeeper “There is nothing I can do for signore Salieri….of course if you keep him content then he would probably survive till the next spring.” The physician stood up heading for the door “You should make the fireplace warmer, it is winter and I afraid the cold would worsen him” “But sir, what will I do if signore Salieri keep talking to himself in his sleep?” the housekeeper caught up with the physician “I advise you to call for a priest.”

For the following days, Salieri suffered from a fever. The housekeeper was frightened of Salieri’s constant yell from his sleep; he then decided to follow the physician’s instruction. The priest came the week after when Salieri had recovered. To his surprise Salieri was playing a bizarre tune on his piano.

“Excuse me, but what is it that you are playing?” The Salieri stopped to turn his head in order observe the priest who was sitting on a small chair positioned in front of him.

“Leave me alone” Salieri exclaimed in frustration

“I cannot leave a soul in pain” the priest answered

“Do you know who I am?”

The priest was confused “Does it matter? All men are equal in god’s eyes.”

“Are they?” Salieri seemed to be amused by the priest statement

“Offer me you confession, I can offer you god’s forgiveness” the priest’s voice was serious

“Tell me, father how well are you trained in music?”

“I know a little, I was trained here in Vienna”

“Ah, you must know this” Salieri played an extract from the “Turkish march”

“Yes, I do; I am sorry I didn’t know you composed it”

“No, I did not… it was composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart” as Salieri spoke there was hatred in his voice.

“He was my idol! When I did not know his name I was still playing childish game but he, he was playing music for kings, emperors and even the pope.” Salieri faced the window “I asked my father if I can study music and be like Mozart, he was disappointed. But how could I tell my father how music meant to me? My desire was to sing to god through my music and a miracle happened, my father’s death allowed me to have a broad education for music. Isn’t that magnificent?” Salieri burst into laughter

“Many years later I was the court composer for Emperor Joseph the musical king, actually he had no ears at all but he adored my music. Everyone liked me; I liked myself… until he came to Vienna to play his music. As the emperor’s court composer I had the responsibility to analyse Mozart’s music sheets. In fact, they were his very first draft of music without any correction, it…it is like if he was taking dictation from his head of those lovely melody, those of such sweet delight, is was god who sang through this little man. But why? Why had god given the passion like a lust in my body then made me mute for he had given the talent to someone else, it was Mozart of course.”

Salieri pointing furiously at the priest “And, father, are all men equal in god’s eyes, now? That creature was talented; he improved my music effortlessly. He embarrassed me in front of the court through that obscene giggle, for that moment I knew god was laughing at me through that pathetic boy whose music was regarded as the best. Laugh, laugh signore Mozart show me your humour. ”

The priest noticed that Salieri could not control himself “Well, my son…”

“Oh no, because you are not to be trusted, you are unkind, you chose your instrument of boastful, lustful, I swear I would block your incarnation I swear as long as I have the health I will harm you silly little creature. I will have what is supposed to be mine”

Putting on a smile Salieri continued “I was jealous of his ability; his music was like no others, simple, comic but wonderful. Every note in his music made my failure more bitter. Then I was able to see it, the solution, I could finally triumph over god.” Insane laughter happened to come from Salieri

“I met Mozart in disguise to commission a Requiem Mass! Then I must achieve his death, how can you kill a man with your own hands, I wonder”

The priest was shaken “What?”

“Imagine it, the cathedral, all of Vienna, Wolfgang Mozart, little coffin in the middle. In that mournful silence music is heard, Requiem Mass for Mozart a great mass of death composed by his devoted friend Antonio Salieri, and only god and I would know that Mozart composed the piece himself. At last Salieri was touched by god and god forced to listen!”

Salieri changed his tone “. God was playing a game with me! God did not share the glory! I knew god was up to something, malicious. I have to spend the next 31 years watching myself slowly become extinct, no one now play my music anymore. I am forgotten, he is not.”

The priest was made speechless by Salieri’s confession "What about Mozart?"

"Who? Ah, Mozart, he died, I killed him, no god killed him. I did not killed him, he just simply died from... no matter he was dead and a shame the...the Requiem Mass was not finished." Salieri stood up to face the window once again, it was dark outside.

"It is time for bed signore" The housekeeper entered respectively "I thank you father."

"You ar...are very welcome" The priest exited the house in remorse for the composer. Salieri passed away a year later, his last words "I confess Mozart I killed you."

your narratives

Dear all,

I am not ignoring your stories- I am on my honeymoon in Bali and so obviously my attentions have been ...directed elsewhere!

Have no fear though; I will read and comment on all of these before our next lesson so keep them coming and keep discussing and commenting on each other's work!

Mr Pollicutt

My short story

Prison Escape

They were there. They were always there. Through the 4cm thick shiny silver metal door, they could be seen everywhere. Their omnipresence was inevitable part of this building. Those people with fine blue police suits, revolvers, and long metal batons were always watching those with black and white striped clothes who were inside the cells. Their hatred was evident in their eyes. Their eyes were filled with burning fire. Those eyes were intimidating, but negligible.

My name is Lechecin. I am in room 413. Twelve years has passed since I came into this jail. I’ve been here for a long time, but I still cannot detach my feeling toward my wife and my children. I still miss them and think about them everyday. My family photo is the only thing that makes me able to sustain this horrible life. Without my photo, I think I might go crazy. Other prisoners said that was just stupid, but it is not my fault that I cannot control my emotion, and that was my usual life.

Desire to escape from this jail is already gone. The ubiquitous policemen have already driven out these desires. Also, the prison is a terrible labyrinth that no one has ever achieved to escape. Other prisoners all agreed on that. Maybe that is why other people call this prison horrible. All the prisoners just live in here like a robot. No hope and no feeling. They just work in the field enthusiastically. Maybe I was the only person who hasn’t given up hope and has feeling toward my family. I wanted to forget about them since I came here, but that is not easy.

I worked very hard today. I don’t know why but I just did. I started working hard. At first others looked at me curiously, but soon they ignored me. One day, I was having lunch with a prisoner next to my cell as usual. His name was Compano. I was very close with him because he was not like other prisoners. He was like me. He also had a family outside the prison. He told me that I was quite abnormal today. I just ignored him.

I worked very hard all week. As I worked hard, I felt void. But that didn’t matter. That felt better. After finishing today’s morning work, I ate lunch with Compano. Today’s lunch included pork which had some blood on it, but I just ate it. Abruptly, Compano told me that he misses his family, and told me his memories with his family and how happy he was. He stopped talking when the lunch was over. Then he suddenly left me. I couldn’t understand why he was behaving like that, but as usual, I just ignored him.

That night I couldn’t sleep well. I couldn’t understand why. Nothing aggravated me and I had the usual same day, but I couldn’t sleep that night. Then I stood up and looked at my family photo. At that moment, I found that I had completely forgotten about my family for a week, or maybe two weeks. Then I thought about things that Compano told me today. Then I realized how happy I was when I was with my family. I promised myself that I will escape from this prison and meet my family.

Compano died. The guards told me that he was shot while trying to escape. I imagined about his family. They would be crying all day. Then I promised myself that I will never make my family sad. But since his death, I felt lonely. Maybe it’s because he was very similar to me, and the only similar person. All the other prisoners felt like antisocial people to me. But I didn’t care. I was only thinking about a way to escape from this hell.

From the distance, I heard the loud announcement, “Prisoner in the cell 413 is missing. All the guards need to search him as soon as possible……” I felt relieved. I was already about five kilometers from the jail. While going to my home, I kidnapped one man to steal his car, clothes and money. I shaved my beard and mustache, and cut all my hair. I looked like a normal person. I looked different.

After a few hours of driving, I reached my house. I was so happy. The house didn’t change at all. It was the same house. I couldn’t stop smiling. I ran. I ran toward the house. I opened the door quickly. I shouted my wife and children’s names. But I felt weird. It was too quiet. The house was messy. No one answered me. I was scared. I looked for them, but they weren’t there. Television was turned on. Then I heard the news.
“Due to the escape of the prisoner in the jail, the police decided that his family will be shot to death……”

I think this story is really bad. Seriously this story is bad.