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Only one Night:
She ran as fast as she could, her destiney unknown to even herself. She was crying, tears streamed behind her. 'Why is this happening to me?' She thought. Maybe the answer would smack her in the face if she asked that question but it didn't. The night was cold and she was only wearing a thin cotten skirt, that had been torn right up the leg from when she was crawling under a fence. Her shirt looked hidious, streaked with mud and grass stains, also torn but not for the same reason as her skirt. Her shirt had been cut by a man whom she did not know and hoped against all hopes that she never met again.
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She ran as fast as she could, destiney unknown. She was crying, tears streamed behind her. 'Why is this happening to me?' She thought, hoping that the answer would smack her in the face if the question were spoken out loud, but it didn't. She pulled the collar of her shirt around her face in an attempt to keep warm, but it was a futile act. The shirt was thin and torn. Torn by a man she had never met before and hoped would never meet again. He had menaced her with a knife, slashing at the shirt in an attempt to frighten her. It worked. She was petrified. Her skirt was in no better condition, having been torn in the escape under the picket fence as she fled her tormentor. The tears began to well once again in her bloodshot eyes.
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~ Just a few months ago she had turned sixteen. Sixteen was a great success for her because she lived in an orphange where she passed through many different houses and many different familys. She had considered suicide many times but that didn't seem to be the right choice, or was it?
~ Now she was just running. Running silently and desperately. No destination, no family, not even any friends to whom she could go. All she knew was to run. All she cared about was running. No hesitation, no remource, nothing could stop her from the task she didn't even know had been set upon her. Run.
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[This section needs more story to it, more of a reason for her running-You wanna give some reason but not too much just yet- save more for description of reason for later chapters- try something like the following]
~ Just a few months ago she had turned sixteen. She never believed she would see sixteen and always thought suicide would be her only escape from years of brutality and instability. She had been transfered like so much property from one abusive family to the next, and as a result, felt as though her life meant little to anyone. The few times she tried suicide noone seemed to even care or acknowledge her existence. Jacobson Hospital in North Carolina had called her guardian family on the night of her last attempt and received a startling reply.
"We don't care. She can rot in there as far as I'm concerned," The foster mother bellowed.
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~ Now she was just running. Running silently and desperately. No destination, no family, not even any friends to whom she could go. All she knew was to run. All she cared about was running. No hesitation, no remource, nothing could stop her from the task she didn't even know had been set upon her. Run.
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[Too much "running words-shorten some & give other descriptions instead.]
~ Now she was just running. Running silently. Running desperately. No destination, no family, not even any friends to whom she could go. Her mind was a blur, her faith faltering. Life meshing with fiction till all seemed a hopeless catastrophy. She stopped, lit a cigarrette and then went back to work. Her morning jog now complete.
Every story has merrit, the trick is in digging it from the ground like so much treasure. Have fun with the story, keep working at it, mulling it over and most of all have fun- that's where your writing will take off if you are having fun with it. Even serious topics are an avenue for fun if you truly enjoy the writting experience
I don't know if I should finish this or not. It seems to be leading no where. Well it sort of does if you look at it the right way. Well anyway what do you guys think I should do?
