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Jul 2018
I held my daughter in my arms. Just three old years old, she is a survivor like me. She is the only one who hasn't been turned by the shadows. I cradled her in my arms just as I did when she was a baby. I think back to the distant memories of my wife and our family. But the thought vanishes as quickly as it begins. A few days ago I was trapped but I knew I had to rescue my daughter and I did just that. So here I am sitting in a very bright room in my house with a barricaded door. All is quiet until I hear some screaming. Not screaming of pain or fear, but the screaming of a monster. I hear one.. then two… then… they found us. I hear banging on door as hideous screams fill my ears. My daughter starts panicking and crying loudly. I softly stroke her hair just as I did when she was younger. She slowly calms down and sobs softly. I look at the entrance and hear the screams and banging on the door. The door will not hold for much longer. I hold the only thing I hold dear in my arms as it's tears run down my neck. I kiss her cheek and stroke her hair one last time as she slowly falls asleep. I slowly wrap my hands around her small neck and quickly snap it. Instantly she goes limp. I will not let those shadows turn my little girl into a monster. As I cradle her small dead body the door bursts open. A group of monsters rush through and scream in a horrifying screech β€œPolice! Put your hands up!”.
Short story
Constructive critism is welcomed
Written by
Cyrus  15/M/Maryland
   Daniel Ruiz
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