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Literature Text
"So this is it," I muttered softly.
The engine behind me started up, and my heart clenched.
Fifty or so miles that large car had driven and dumped me and my belongings out here.
I felt as if the middle of nowhere had sucked me up, and my only known route was this thin stretch of gravel road that large car had spat me out at the end of.
The tires began to pull away gently, but I whipped around, rushed over, and began banging on the passenger's seat window. The driver lowered it and glanced at me. I had never seen his eyes before this moment, and now I wish I never had for they were void of color. The iris was black which gave the impression that his pupils were extremely large.
His gaze was hollow, and all I could care to look at were those eyes.
I had forgotten for a moment then studdered to regain thought before I finally asked, "What am I suppose to do?" My female voice was dripping with self-pity whether I believed he would be affected by it or not.
There was an empty pause. I was unsure if he would simply roll the window back up and drive away when his low voice rang, "Your family is waiting for you..." He stuck a long, pale finger in a direction over my shoulder, "That direction."
With the faint longing of company, I attempted to ask another question to keep him here just longer, "But I--" but he rolled the window up, and drove off. A thick cloud of grey dust was kicked up in his wake. It was not until the final puff had dissapeared that I turned back around, slid on my backpack, grabbed my one bag, and headed in 'That direction.'
The engine behind me started up, and my heart clenched.
Fifty or so miles that large car had driven and dumped me and my belongings out here.
I felt as if the middle of nowhere had sucked me up, and my only known route was this thin stretch of gravel road that large car had spat me out at the end of.
The tires began to pull away gently, but I whipped around, rushed over, and began banging on the passenger's seat window. The driver lowered it and glanced at me. I had never seen his eyes before this moment, and now I wish I never had for they were void of color. The iris was black which gave the impression that his pupils were extremely large.
His gaze was hollow, and all I could care to look at were those eyes.
I had forgotten for a moment then studdered to regain thought before I finally asked, "What am I suppose to do?" My female voice was dripping with self-pity whether I believed he would be affected by it or not.
There was an empty pause. I was unsure if he would simply roll the window back up and drive away when his low voice rang, "Your family is waiting for you..." He stuck a long, pale finger in a direction over my shoulder, "That direction."
With the faint longing of company, I attempted to ask another question to keep him here just longer, "But I--" but he rolled the window up, and drove off. A thick cloud of grey dust was kicked up in his wake. It was not until the final puff had dissapeared that I turned back around, slid on my backpack, grabbed my one bag, and headed in 'That direction.'
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You ever have those moments where, after you finish a book, you get the creative nudge to write something, and that something is alot like the book you just read, but in alot more of your style with a totaly different plot?
Well, this is that, and is the only one.
Well, this is that, and is the only one.
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