I started in my room pouring the foul stench liquid on the floor. Grabbing only the things that were dear to me. Wanting to get out of this life for a long time and now that no body was home this was my chance. While mom was at school, dad was at work, brother in the military, and little sister at day care, I took the opportunity to take my leave. When I ran out of the gasoline that I found in the garage I took a match and stroke it against the box. Watching the flames dance for a while, admiring the beauty before drooping it in the puddle that I made.1
Exiting through the front door I ran. As fast as I could, through the woods. Nothing could and won't stop me from running. Just wanting to get away from my old life. From all of the humiliation, the rumors, the people. I hated them all and they hated me.
Author notes
I just had to get this out of my head & on paper.
Comments
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Interesting. It's a budding story. Interesting description.
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The story is just a fragment naturally, it's small. If it is developed, there might be something there, but at the moment it is just a scene. It has no reason to exist of course, as there is no conflict except teenage angst.
For example. What set him off. Why today and net yesterday? Surely more than people not being home. Rumors, surely we'd find out WHAT rumors after a while, but at the moment, it's just inuendo. Had he been scoping out the gasoline long? Surprisingly enough, runaway's actually have a plan in mine, even if that plan makes no sense to a grown up, be it take a bus to another country, ride the rail road, etc.
(Spell check)
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