Hi! This is a short story I had to do for English. It had to relate to another creative piece of writing, so that's why this is quite descriptive and, well, dark. I haven't posted a short story in a while, so this may be a little rusty. Anyone who could help me out here would not only be amazing, but super-amazing. ;D Oh, quick question, you don't have to answer it, but it would be great to see how this works. How does the third person make you feel about Carrie and the situation she's in?
Hope you enjoy it!
A thick, heavy black wrapped itself around Carrie, a villain’s hand held over her mouth, restricting her ability to breathe. It pressed against her, muffling Carrie’s tiny whimpers as she scrambled blindly in the dust. Splinters staked her fingers as she fumbled around desperately, hoping she might happen to brush against a familiar object, soft and fluffy.
“Mamma, Mamma,” she moaned, thinking of her mother’s warm, crinkly smile, sparkling eyes, and open arms. The image and her own voice had a calming effect on her, for in her mind her mother was there, answering her call and helping little Carrie tear the pall of silence away.
“Mamma…”
Carrie gasped as she touched something new. She reflexively jerked her hands out of reach of the object, scared that whatever she had just discovered would jump up and bite her, leaving a fierce warning for little Carrie not to disturb its dust-cloaked sleep anymore. Her fright was short-lived, for she realised what she had touched was familiar. A tentative brush of the fingers against the object revealed smooth, silky fur; the curve of an ear; and a smooth, cool button for an eye.
“Bear!” She had dropped him when the basement door had slammed shut, and with the sudden pitch black, she had been unable to find his comforting, spongy body. Now she had him in her grasp, and clutched him tightly to her, squeezing her eyes shut and pretending it was instead Mamma who was with her.
Yet it was Mamma’s fault she was hiding there, crying in the dark. When the black clouds of discontentment rolled over Mamma and Papa, and when their words flew at each other, as sharp and quick as lightening, Carrie would run for cover, afraid of the torrent of tears that would rain from Mamma.
Yet no closet, no duvet, no room corner, could block out the screeching that reached her ears whenever a thunderstorm occurred. When Carrie had tugged at her dress, Mamma stopped ignoring her and replied, “Yes, Carrie. When there are bad storms, people hide in basements. Now please, I’m trying to make dinner.”
Dinner. Carrie’s stomach growled at the thought of food. She’d been stuck in the basement for so long, only moving a inch at a time, and each obstacle she encountered, be it a dusty pool-table, a rusty garden rake, Mamma’s old CDs, took her so long to pass by. Surely she had been stuck in there for hours? Perhaps the thunderstorm had ended now…
Would it take long for Mamma to miss her? Would it take long for Mamma to find her?
Carrie eyes opened. Mamma would not notice; would not come to her rescue. Mamma would be curled up on her bed, crying for hours. Those arms Carrie desired so badly would be wrapped around herself, unable to offer comfort to anyone else when she herself was upset.
Mamma would not come to her rescue.
Papa? No. That was a foolish thought. The front door had slammed long ago, Carrie was sure. Papa’s absence was a feeling in the air, nearly as menacing as the suffocating dark.
Carrie would have to rescue herself.
With the looming curtains of charcoal tightening around her, masking deformed shapes and silhouettes, this was not an easy decision to be made. A sudden spur of bravery in the heart was the only thing that urged her on as she crawled in the direction of where she had heard the door slam.
One hand still holding Bear to her, Carrie pushed across the splintering, wooden floor, humming the song Mamma used to sing to her at bedtime. She kept her eyes on the floor, not daring to meet the gaze of whatever else may be crawling around the basement with her.
She imagined Mamma was standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for Carrie to come to her, the warmest, most welcoming smile spread across her face. All Carrie had to do was find the steps-
Her fumbling hand knocked against something hard and wooden. She closed her hand around it and, with a short gasp of relief, discovered what it was.
Climb up the steps-
She began to ascend so quickly she banged a knee against the corner of a stair, but the pain was something that she could not feel when she was so close to the promise of light.
Then-
The door whooshed open, nearly knocking Carrie over. She blinked in the sudden bright light, tears dripping down her cheeks as Mamma scooped her up and held her in her arms.
