haruhi

The first gun shot sounded like a thunder clap, that’s what the little girl thought it was until she heard a scream that made her nearly jump out of her skin. A long, delicate women’s screech – like fingers clawing in from all angles, ripping and tearing at your ears. The child pushed herself up from the mattress, staring at the window, before she rolled the covers away from her scrawny legs. The warm California air brushed against her freckled skin – like fevered flesh – and the small, battery-powered fan blew her blonde hair away from her sleep-infested eyes. She knew the origin of the light trickling through the window, it came from the scattered street lights and the bright lights of the apartments of the building across the street; all those lights illuminated the world like day time. Sometimes, the light tricked her mind into believing that’s what it was.

Her feet touched the scruffy rug – her toes curled instinctively at the touch – just as another boom! ran through the room. The sound came all around her, shaking her eardrums... almost as if it came from inside her, from deep down. A roar. Her small fingers tightened into fearful fists, but her glowing blue eyes were only filled with a curiosity that could belong only to a child. Eyes widened, the child stiffly strode to the window, her knuckles clicking against the glass, as she pressed her face against the cold surface, looking down onto Albuquerque Street. A haze had invaded the streets below – smog, Las Alberta’s silent killer. A car was parked a little down the street, high beams on, illuminating the street, three black shapes moved in front of the lights, blotting them out – one crouched low. Kneeling.

"Don’t you move, Lorenzo," someone yelled, the child could barely hear what they were saying, "I can’t believe this happened. You morons."

"Oh, shush," another hissed, and there was an agonized gasp, the kneeled person fell forward, "Oh, shit – cut it, Bob!"

The glitter of the high beams went out almost immediately – the child blinked in the sudden absence of the light. Something was wrong. For a moment longer, she watched demon’s faces form in the smog by just the eerie light of a bottom floor television glow that was seeping out of a window. It glittered off strange shapes in the dark. Suddenly, she realized why it was so dark and quiet. Why nothing seemed to be stirring... why everything seemed to have stopped in mid-motion. The fan still continued in a low murmur, but the street’s lights were no longer twinkling. They were off, immersed in the smog, cloaked in its dark features. There were no lights, she was staring down into pitch blackness ruled by the smog demons.

She sucked in a deep breath, panic boiling in the pit of her stomach, before she backed away from the dark window that seemed to move with the shapes behind it. The drifting fog reflecting light from the working television. Why were so many lights off in the building across the way? Those lights were always on. She ran across the space between herself and the light switch on the wall next to the door – the distance felt so long in the dark. She forced the light switch up... and almost instantly was blinded by the light flooding the room, its reflection glazing over the smog demons making them disappear. The window glass remained still and unmoving. She shut the lights back off almost as quickly as she had turned them on, she was fearful of her parent’s wrath, if they knew she was up way passed her bedtime. She felt like her knees were knocking together in fear – like in a cartoon, or something from the television. That type of fear never happened in real life, did it?

She peeked at the window from over her shoulder, her hand still pressed firmly over the light switch, back to the smog.

It was still dark.

She waited with obedient silence in the dark, her rattle of her breath louder than the fan, her heart beat was tribal drums in her ears. She closed her eyes... and counted. Life had taught her that numbers sooth – even if she hadn’t lived long, she’d lived long enough to know that not everything is heavenly. Demons are there, too.

One.

Her ragged breath became near unbearable.

Two.

The fan roared.

Three.

A clicking sound interrupted her thoughts, she opened her eyes wide... panic burst inside of her. Fear clung to her like a leech, as she dashed away from the door, crashing her knee onto the bed post, she flung herself face first onto the fluffy quilt, holding her knee, "Ow!" Her loud squeal echoed around her room, as she rubbed the throbbing knee. A sliver of light flickered on underneath her door, as she heard the door forced open, skidding against the carpet, and the light illuminated her bed. She turned her head, looking up at the shadowed figure she recognized – her mother.

"Tiffany?" her mother said, her hand still on the doorknob, before she shook her head, "For heaven’s sake, Tiffany, get into bed this instant. We turn our backs on you for one moment, and your up and about again." There was a small laugh in the women’s voice, as she stepped into the room – watching her daughter climb under the covers again, rolling the covers back over her scrawny body, closing her blue eyes to fain sleep once more. She leaned forward, kissing the girl on the temple, before she strode back to the door and began to close it behind her, "Now, go to sleep, Tiffany. I don’t want you to be grouchy for Auntie Louise tomorrow."

As silence folded around the room, like a deathly disease talked about in hushed whispers, the girl heard a clatter again, a loud, long boom! from outside her window. She pushed herself up again, sitting in the bed in the darkness... before she heard it. Plik. One first, than the sound grew to a chores – and she relaxed back onto the pillow... listening to the rain and thunder.

Had she let her imaginary run wild again?

Had it only been the thunder?

geminye

I'm not sure about this....i may have to read it a couple of more times. The tone of the writing seemed out of tune with the events. You said this is to be dystopic, yet the events occuring outside her window seem out of the ordinary.
It felt as if you were overusing the descriptive language, slowing the reading to a crawl, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but again, it didn't feel right for the tone of the events. I will re-read when i have more time.

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Candrah

Geminye pointed out overuse of descriptive language. I agree - it gets in the way here. Mind you, it's a personal thing.

Noticed a couple of typos - sooth = soothe, fain = feign, chores = chorus.

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