It has been a while since I posted. New job, new schedule and I am still getting adjusted.
Anyway, here is a short story I wrote for my college publication. There was around 30 submissions and they only chose 5. I was one of the 5! 🙂
And yes, the ending was left purposely ambiguous so that anyone can relate.
It Doesn’t Work That Way
My knees buckle from exhaustion as I take a half-step backwards to steady myself. The fierce attacks from the many snarling faces have momentarily stopped and all I can think of is a nursey rhyme my mother sang to me. A rhyme meant to shield me from the evils of everything. An innocent lie told to her child. One that is meaningless now.
In this infinite white room I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and steel myself for the next attack. My strong right hand grasps the club so tight that my hands shake and my bleeding knuckles turn white. The coarse wood feels powerful beneath my soft palms. Quick strikes from the club have barely protected me thus far. In my weaker left hand I struggle to maintain a grip on the heavy rock. Its great weight has slowed my defense, yet its great weight has stopped many of the assaults. The simple Neanderthal tools are my only weapons to ward off the onslaught. They are better than a mother’s lying rhymes. Continue reading