The American Fugitive | Teen Ink

The American Fugitive

February 7, 2013
By Gen.Milkstache BRONZE, Buchanan, Tennessee
Gen.Milkstache BRONZE, Buchanan, Tennessee
1 article 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"Many great men have died, I don't feel too good myself."


The warm radiant beams of sunlight, beaming from the fiery orb in the sky, landed down upon the old, beat-up hood of the once prized Chevelle. The Sun's heat burned throughout the interior of the car, causing beads of sweat to form upon the driver's brow. Eventually, these sweat beads cascaded down like small waterfalls. Seth wiped the small droplets of sweat off of his face, giving a slight sigh of annoyance with it.

"Why do I have to be here again?", he asked himself once again, like he did many times before.

"Why do I have to be stuck here in this eternal hell called life?"

But. he knew the answer to that one simple question. He knew it all to well. For it seemed like yesterday when his life was actually normal. When his life consisted of being in a normal family, in a normal home, living a normal 17 year-old's life, instead of living on the run from the people who had once said that they would protect him and never hurt him. But, that was a lie. The same thing that got him in this mess anyways. The same thing that had changed his life into an endless nightmare. A horrid dream full of frighting things and dangerous hazards that would haunt him till his days end. Unless he could just wake up.

But, that would be something for him to figure out in the future. Right now he needed to focus on survival. He needed to focus on himself. So, the basic thought of what he was to eat tomorrow and where he was going to park his car to rest for the night. For, he had been driving two days, constantly, almost without a break, besides stopping to get gas. For you see, he found out the hard way that you always need a break. Because sitting there listening to the sound of rubber on dusty pavement and the roar of an engine could decay one's sanity slowly but surely. Something like his sanity may be so simple and so small, but it meant the world to him. It meant that he could survive this mess. It meant that he didn't lose. It meant that he could win, and so he parked his car near an old abandoned warehouse. He stepped out onto the dusty sand, giving a quick look of his surroundings. He clutched the handle of a pistol in his right hand, and walked ever so slowly towards the door of this abandoned facility. Once he reached the door, he grabbed the handle ever so slightly, and turned it.

Once the door was open, he realized it was a mistake to come here. Seth was bombarded by two bats to the face, and fell backwards onto the sand. He looked up at his attackers and saw the bat fall down. He realized the mistake in coming here right before the bat struck his right temple. With just one hit, he was out.


The author's comments:
I'm writing this because it's a part of my actual novel I'm making and I want your feedback.

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