My Eight-Year Old Son, Ladies And Gentleman - The Writer. Below Is All His Own Work.
Death Valley
Bridge squinted at the shimmering
scenery in the distance, the desert sands seemed to stretch for a thousand
miles. The blazing sun was slowly sinking and the night sky was creeping in. He
pulled his flask out of his pocket and took a long, thirsty gulp of water.
“Rats,” he hissed. “I'm nearly out
of gas.” He quickly scanned the arid landscape for a gas station, but all he
could see was sand and the dry bones of desert animals.
Bridge slid down the side of his
motorbike and sat on the cracked ground, thinking.
All of a sudden dust rose into the
air. Bridge looked up, noticing a large truck approaching. He jumped up and
waved his hands to let the drivers know he was there. The truck stopped and two
men wearing sunglasses stepped out. Bridge held out his hand.
“Am I glad to see you!” smiled
Bridge, shaking the bearded man's hand.
“We ain't got nothing better to do,
we just spend our days in the desert. Always someone who needs help” he said
slowly, staring at Bridge and holding up a container of gas.
“I'm Hank, this is Ray,” he added,
pointing to the man next to him.
Bridge jerked his hand back from
the shake; it felt cold and scaly. Both men removed their sunglasses, revealing
shining violet eyes.
Bridge backed away and the guys
knew that he thought there was something strange about them.
Bridge jerked his head around,
searching; there was nothing.
Nowhere to run. No gas.
Bridge slowly reached for the knife
on his belt.
The men moved forward and each time
their boots thudded to the ground, grey, mirrored scales swept up their bodies,
swiftly transforming them from men to giant lizards! Their forked tongues
darted from cave like mouths and knocked the knife from Bridges belt.
Bridge stared at the knife, almost
defeated, it was too far to reach. Quickly, he grabbed his flask and squirted
water in their eyes. As the lizards pulled back, Bridge grabbed the container
of gas and splashed it over them.
He took his lighter from his pocket
and lit the trail of gas dripping from the overgrown reptiles, WHOOOOOF
A ball of orange flames engulfed
the scaly assassins.
Bridge ran to his bike as fast as
possible and poured what was left of the gas into his motorbike. He swung one
leg over his bike and... a flaming lizard grabbed his leg and started to drag
him into the fire! Bridge dug his nails into the sand as he was pulled, but it
was no use, he could already feel the heat burning through his trousers. He
kicked his legs wildly trying to escape and put out the fire. He kicked the
lizard right in the face and he let go. Bridge jumped onto his bike, he'd seen
the last of them.
BUT
As he sped away the shapeshifters
slowly regenerated back into human form, watching with their violet eyes.
8 Comments:
That's amazing. You must be one proud dad.
Very cinematic. I could see the whole scene vividly. He'd make a great screenwriter.
Are you sure he's only eight? Bloody hell.
Invisible: Thanks and I am.
Nellig: Thanks. And yes he is, but he's a 'thinker' - no bad thing in my opinion.
Oh I loved it! I always wanted violet eyes and regenerative powers.
Jesus.
That's the most disturbing submission to Penthouse Letters that I've ever seen.
-Jenertia
I shall not be passing that comment on to him.
That's excellent--where did he learn the literary skill from? :)
Wow. Son blows us away! Tired, get inspired. Your fans hope for more from both of you.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home