Writer's Journey

  Nurse Harrison would say that it was a rather normal day at the hospital. Doom and gloom filled the air like oppressive smog, and the halls were silent. It was the same as always. In fact, just like any other day, the door to Room 15 was open, and the same scene greeted her. Even as used to it as she was, it never failed to elicit a pang of sympathy from her old heart. Maya Hunt sat quietly by a bed, head lowered. Her hands held those of the patient lying still. It was almost like she was clutching on for dear life. Although the birds outside the window chirped cheerfully, and the sun pleasantly warmed the room, it felt like a sphere of cold misery surrounded that bed. The nurse sighed with pity. She had a daughter of her own, and couldn’t help but sympathise with a mother’s love and worry for her child. Harrison had tried to talk to the poor woman and help her with the pain, but she never spoke. She only stared with her dark, empty eyes at her son’s unmoving form. Once a famous ...

  Ava was ready to go home. She tapped her foot impatiently, leaning against the hood of her car. As vehicles whizzed by her on the road, she couldn’t help but wish she was one of them. By now, she would’ve been at home, telling Ben all about her camping trip in the mountains. Ava could picture her little brother’s wide awed eyes, and chuckled to herself. She’d been so excited to get home to her brother, that she had been driving a bit too fast. Usually, that wouldn’t be a problem out here in the countryside. Unfortunately for her, a nearby traffic cop noticed her speeding, and pulled her over. And so, here she was, parked on the side of the road. Waiting. The officer said he’d check her identity and record her speeding, and then let her go. “It’ll only take ten minutes,” Officer Vasquez promised. Well, over an hour later, she was still waiting. The sun was beginning to set, the sky turning a warm shade of orange-red. The cars driving past began to reduce in number, and the trees r...

  Peter shoved his hands into his jacket’s pockets, less out of a need to stay warm, and more to hide how badly they were shaking. If he allowed the others to see his fear, they would be on him like a pack of wolves having smelled fresh blood. He had to put up a strong facade. If they thought that he was too tough to try to attack, or that he had backup, they wouldn’t harm him. But if they knew he had nobody waiting.. Peter shuddered to think of it. He didn’t want to go home to his cheap apartment with a broken arm and nose. He couldn’t afford the hospital bills. The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Peter suppressed the urge to cough and fan away the smoke that billowed out. Instead, he smoothly entered the building and locked it behind himself. Larry and Stevens were already there, perched atop a stack of cardboard boxes. John was sitting cross-legged on the floor, cigarette in his hand. He was probably the source of the smoke. The murmuring he had been hearing from outside...