Sunday, March 7, 2010

Creative Writing

I wrote this a while ago. I'm not sure I like it, but nu, nu, I wrote it, and why hold it back from the criticizing masses?

He held the large hammer in his tightening grip. He gritted his teeth, and tried to imagine where he would be now, had things worked out as they should have.
"Just do it already!" the greasy teenager taunted him. At this point his little sister started to whine. Her. It was all her fault they were both here. He breathed out slowly, realizing that he should concentrate on how he could get out of this trouble, not on what got him here in the first place.
He looked down at the weapon he was holding. Was he about to add to its harmful and abusive history?
The sun had already dipped below the horizon. He needed to bring his sister home before dark. What would his parents say if he couldn't do that tonight? Only one thing was in his way, but could he actually go through with it?
All these thoughts flooded his mind, as the pressure grew from the rough teens around him.
His sister started to cry; he had heard that. Again, thoughts of how his parents or friends would react if they knew what he was doing, darted forth into his mind. Enough!
His muscles flexed as he heaved the hammer back, high above his head. With a mighty roar escaping his mouth, he brought the hammer down in a powerfully violent swing, and with destructive intentions.
Bright lights dazzled and shrieked as a small red ball flew higher and higher.
"And we have a winner!" the greasy teen said unenthusiastically as he handed a small, pink elephant to the boy.
The boy, exhausted from the effort, but with a satisfied look in his eyes, handed the prize to his sister, and asked, "Now, can we go home??"