P. 1
Chalk.

Chalk.

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Published by Imogen Okerstrom
A short story told in the 2nd person.
Inspired by Boy division by my chemical romance.
A short story told in the 2nd person.
Inspired by Boy division by my chemical romance.

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Published by: Imogen Okerstrom on Dec 08, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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02/18/2015

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I promise. Writing folio no.

19
YOU SIT ALONE AT AN OLD BUS STOP. You scan your surroundings, not like you need to though; it hasn’t changed in a decade. An old mostly dilapidated bus stop, a dusty old road and desert wasteland for miles. You know there won’t be any buses running today. There hasn't been a bus here since you were a child, but you sit there and wait patiently, like you have been every day for the past 10 years. You're not waiting for a bus though; you’re waiting for something. Anything. You begin to doze off like you did the day before; you’ve been tired lately. It’s becoming harder to find food for you as you’ve already salvaged all the canned food in the town near by. You’ll have to move on soon, if you want to survive. But you can’t leave here just yet. You made a promise. You hear the noise of a motor droning in the distance, at first you think it’s just in your head, your thoughts; your tired mind. But then you hear another noise, what is that noise? ...Gunshots? You begin to rouse from your half sleep, though you’re still tired, you look into the distance but see nothing out of normal, you frown and settle back into your previous position and all is silent again. Suddenly, the noise of the droning motor returns, along with the gunshots, but it’s much louder this time. You look up and see something on the horizon, though you’re not sure what you see, though it’s definitely red. You stand up and run towards the road, this could be it. This could be something. ... Whatever it is. Everything comes into focus now, it’s a young man, with fiery red hair, he sits on an old motorbike, and it’s louder than it should be, probably from age. You smile and your heart feels like it’s going to burst through your chest, you knew this would pay off. Another person. You’re not the only one. You see something behind him now... what is that? Is that what you think it is? No. That can't be possible, those things were wiped out years ago, along with everyone else. Your heart sinks a little bit in worry for the Red haired man, you hope he’s all right; he may be your last hope. The man on the motorbike screams in excitement and grins widely as he speeds up, behind him a massive turret drone fires off shots, though they keep missing him, probably because it's aim utility was faulty or broken from age. Where did it even come from? “You there!” He shouts at you, still grinning. He’s only 100 meters away from you now. You look up but stay silent. “I’ve been looking for you!” he extends his hand towards you, now 50 meters away. He’s got to be kidding, he’s not expecting you to do what you think he is... is he?

You push back your fears, you promised goddamn it. You gulp and extend your arm towards him. 30 meters. 20 meters. 10 meters. And in a flash, you’ve swung around and you land safely behind him, your arms are wrapped around his waist, and his rifle is pressing into your shoulder uncomfortably. You’re not sure quite how you’re here without any injuries, and you’re sure you should have died. You realize he’s speaking to you now, you didn't notice at first, as you were busy wondering how you didn't die. “We're going to swerve here, alright?” he shouts at you, you can barely hear him it’s so loud. You nod against his back and clutch tightly, you can still hear the bullets flying by and you wonder how you came to trust this person in such a short time. The bike swerves down a thin path attached to the main road; you never noticed it before, after all these years. Strange. The drone doesn't catch on to your sudden turn, again because it is old. It continues going straight and crashes into a boulder 50 meters down the main road, causing a large explosion, you’re already far away now, but you can hear it, feel it even. You scream in excitement and the mysterious flame haired man chuckles. Immediately after you are filled with a sense of gratitude, so you thank him. His chuckle stops and he nods silently. You’re not quite sure how you’re not injured or dead. Or how you even came to be here, but as you speed down the road to god knows where, you realise it doesn’t matter, because you’ve fulfilled your promise from long ago, and you’re going to be alright. You’re alive. And that's all that matters.

[A/N: I designed this to fit the reader, and to end kind of open ended so you can decide what happens, I also don't let on what the promise is, because again I’d rather readers imagine it, this whole story basically just plays on imagination. For instance, to myself this whole world is set in a post apocalyptic desert wasteland, and the promise my character made was to find someone else, or to survive to an old friend who had died. The character is essentially whoever reads it, because that way you can become more immersed in the story. It’s finished for this task, but I think I might continue it one day or something. But yeah, it’s essentially finished. ]

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