Amy and Tristan

This is the short story I wrote for my L.A. Final ( I got 10/10 on) and my humanities and science (who is also a l.a teacher) teachers came up to me and said that i have great potential as a writer. So here it is and enjoy.....if you have title ideas give me a comment plz im at a loss.

Amy fell like a pile of rocks in the ocean, crying hysterically, not knowing what to do or where to go. She heard gunshots and explosions in the distance. Her brother held her protectively. Together they hid in their parents closet, hoping that a miracle would happen and they would get out alive.

"It's going to be okay, we'll make it through this Amy. Don't worry." Amy's brother Tristan knew there were slim chances of them getting out of New York alive. The city had become a war-zone, many of the citizens had already been evacuated just hours before.

"It's not going to be okay! Nothing is okay right now! Look what happened to mom and dad. No one's here to protect us now!" Amy whispered between sobs. Amy was only 16 and had already seen more death than most cops see in there entire career.

 Hours passed, they knew the gunshots were getting closer. Amy had settled down and was quiet now.

"What if they come back into the house. The man that came before... what if he comes back?" Amy whispered. Just before Tristan could answer they heard banging on the doors. They boarded them up after the group of peope came in and killed their parents left.

Amy started crying again. Tristan covered her mouth and pulled her closer. She buried her head into his side, like a shy little girl would with her dad. They heard the door fly open and the boards hit the floor. Men were yelling throughout the house. They heard someone enter the room. Tristan could see their shadow. The man turned so he was facing the closet.

"I got something!" The man yelled he walked up to the closet and opened the door. Amy didn't look up at him but was still crying and screaming. Tristan still holding Amy tried pushing himself deeper into the closet. The man took out two syringes from one of his pockets as a few others came in with strechers. He pushed the syringes into Tristan and Amy's arms forcefully.

Tristan suddenly felt dizzy and weak. Amy felt the same. Before they blacked out, Tristan could hear faint mumbling coming from the men.

When Tristan awoke he was on a truck; He looked around for his sister. He didn't see her anywhere. He called her name out a few times, but there was no answer. Tristan decided he would sit back and try to make sense of what was happening. Minutes later a girl awoke with a jolt.

" Where am I?" She turned to Tristan, "Who are you?" Tristan introduced himself and asked her her name.  "Delilah. My name is Delilah."

Hoped you enjoyed leave me a comment doesnt matter if you like it or not give me your input please.

=D 

first blog

  So this is my very first blog. My mother suggested i create one, because of my writing. I am only 13 but am already planning on becoming a journalist and or author =D, so i figure its the best practice and it gives me a chance to get out there......Right?

 All the world's a stage 

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lined,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,

His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

All the world's a Stage by William Shakespeare is by far my favorite poem. I find it very inspirational, its basically saying that everyone has a chance and explaing the stages of life for an actor. 

p.s even though most people think that im a boy when they here my name I am not.

and I still wonder why people constantly think that?