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Showing results for tags '15 minute writing'.
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There was a house in the middle of a large sheet of snow. There was not a soul outside. The windows had been boarded up and the lights were out. The roof was in disrepair now as broken decorations littered the ground below. The chimney had not lasted despite its valiant attempt to hold strong. Even the icicles looming above the door seemed to creep down upon anyone who dared to visit. The darkness of night seemed to loom over this home like a shadow cast from the scythe of the Grim Reaper himself. Inside there was a family of ten all huddled together next to a fireplace. There was no furniture inside and, despite the fire’s efforts; it still looked cold and forlorn. There were no high spirits in this home as they knew this day was one they had dreaded for weeks. Fear was plastered upon the face of each family member, the resemblance uncanny. This was their end, and they knew all they could do was stay together before the angels of destruction reigned upon their poor little cottage. That was when the earth began to shake. The youngest, a little boy, tripped and fell alongside his uncle. It was fortunate that they could not afford a chandelier for it surely would have fallen and littered the room with glass, shattered and lost in the nooks and crannies. In every corner of the room the same sounds echoed and echoed; “creak crack, creak crack.” That was when the roof above them was torn off. This family was now facing judgment before their very god. The first was grandmother who ascended to meet the malevolent creator. Her head was chopped off as the rest of her body was casually tossed aside, landing right next to the little boy. There were no screams, no tears shed from any of the family. All they showed was the expression of fear as they each, one by one, crumbled before the wrath of god. This was the genocide at the Gingerbread house. Note from the author: Yeah, I had to run this by a staff member before I could, in good conscience, post it here. XP I was told this should be fine, and so here is my Xmas story to you all. I'd always wanted to do a story like this with a one-sentence twist at the end that totally changed the context of the entire story. I always thought it would be about a gingerbread house being eaten on Christmas morning as well. When the theme of the 15 minute writing was "Christmas" I saw a good opportunity to jot down this little gem. I hope you enjoy!
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Did the world always seem this… grey? Wasn’t there a time where everything was filled with brighter colors? Yes, there was something… music, that’s what it was. It always sounded so pretty. I think it came from a box of sorts. I know that sounds a bit silly, music coming from a box. But yes, I’m certain that’s what it was. There were also other things as well… We called them… laughter... bliss… hope… rapture… sorrow… pain… deceit… lies… Yes, those were the colors that had filled the world. Now it was as if all of those colors had been absorbed. It’s as if the artist’s brush had retracted everything and… well, that was just it; and what? Wherever those colors were now, they most certainly were not here. Everything seemed blank; lifeless and barren. The universe itself was now a blank sheet of paper. What was to become of such a form? Would the artist paint anew, or would it be decided that painting was simply not worth the time and effort? How did the world come to be like this? A world that was filled with such colors; how could they all just vanish? It was all here just a moment ago, wasn’t it? There was… there was a noise… Yes, it was called… a shriek? Yes, the woman in front of me; what did I call her? Mother was it? She was the first to go. I think I held onto something… I thought… it was important… It had something in it… I just can’t remember. Now the world filled with music, joy, wonder, suffering and pain is gone. Now all that is left is me. Am I the last to leave? I close my eyes and I feel something. It’s a key. I turn it around and around then wait for the music to stop. Whee another short story! I always imagined this story being told from the perspective of a child who witnessed the end of the world. Trying to hold on to memories as they slip away, they all wait for the music to stop. I hope you enjoy!
