FranticA Story by Hello, ElleJust something I wrote in my journal one day :)When I was just a child, I never imagined I would ever be holding a gun. Just last week, I never imagined I would be having this feeling I have now… Satisfaction. Pure satisfaction in holding this gun, looking straight at the man I would soon be waking up. He lay in his bed, peacefully sleeping. He had no worries. He had no regrets. He was living his life when he clearly should have been the one to die. I trusted no one with knowing what I was about to do… I only trusted myself. I knew that if I had told, they would have all locked me up and put me away. I realized how creaky his wooden floors were, so I slipped off my pumps, and I tip toed on over to the end of his bed. he grunted and turned his head slowly so that he was facing his door. I felt sweat trickling down my nose. I quickly wiped it off. I looked down at the gun, an M9 pistol, and I smiled. I lifted my hand, and I placed it on his leg. his head shot up. “Whaa?” He was delirious. He finally turned and looked at me, his head racing, a frenzied look in his eye. “You made me do this, Enn.” I pointed the gun at him, then at myself. I pulled the trigger. I fell to the ground. © 2010 Hello, ElleAuthor's Note
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Added on August 20, 2010Last Updated on October 10, 2010 AuthorHello, ElleNeverland, CTAboutMy name is Elle, or Eli. Whichever you prefer. I am a sixteen year old girl who dreams to become a journalist one day. I play guitar, and I recently bought myself a beautiful Yamaha APX 500! I writ.. more.. |

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