Snitch Shorts

[Snitch]

a short; a piece of literature that does not fall under a chaptered prose. mostly done in specific genres.

 

Don't feel the need to read or comment on all at once; if you have a free five minutes, why not just read one and leave a comment. I don't really mind; I'm only posting these here as past and future works to improve my writing.

 

I Know You Do

I watch as you trudge back into the room, head facing the floor as usual, your brown hair swishing as you move your head and look around the class. Most people are staring in awe, but your sapphire orbs rest on my face and my twisted look; a mixture of envy and embarrassment. You know what’s going on behind my very eyes; you know what I’m thinking right then. I know you do.

 

You slump backwards into your chair and the history lesson continues. Everyone else has turned their eyes back to the whiteboard, but not me – my gaze is still fixed on you, drifted away from everything else. Your slender back, arched in a small curve. The back of your hair, clipped with the single red bow I gave you your last birthday. And without turning, you know I’m watching you. I know you do.

 

I smile and stretch, still keeping my eyes on you. I can tell you’re smiling – I don’t know how, I just know. But I know it’s because you know I’m watching. You draw up a finger and begin to coil it through your hair, as you usually do when you’re bored. The sleeve of your pink jacket I gave you last week slips down slightly, revealing the scar I gave you the other week. I laugh silently to myself, and you laugh with me. I know you do.

 

You turn now, but only slightly, to see my smiling face. A quick glance is all you give me then, but a quick glance is all I need to take it all in. The quick swish of your hair over your face, the smile, your secret smile that you always give me. Your sapphire blue eyes. Your pointed nose and small, curve-tipped ears. And I think you’re beautiful, and you know that. I know you do.

 

I glance towards the bell that now echo’s it’s sound throughout the classroom and empty halls. Everyone stands up simultaneously, aside from me and you. We stay seated as everyone leaves, then we both stand up at the same time. You turn and smile at me, flashing a “Come on,” position with your hand. I nod subconsciously, and even though I wait so, you know I’ll be wherever you go. I know you do.

 

You leave the room, and I follow, as we walk down the corridors, our footsteps echoing and mixing with the sound of the playing students outside. We don’t walk next to each other, or even behind or in front of each other, we keep our distance. You’re scared of sharing our love with everyone else, even though I know you want to. I know you do.

 

I enter the closet after you – the same one we enter everyday, the one that nobody but us know about. Somewhere only we know. You stare into my eyes, the stare you give me everyday, and our lips lock, as they do everyday. I wrap my arms around you, and you wrap yours around me. And you know I’ll always be there for you, always be there to wrap my arms around you like now. Always there to slip my lips against yours, and give you the smiles in the classroom. And you know I love you. You know I do.

 

Driving Between Lines

“Please, Jacob, slow down; you’re going too fast.” Ari pleaded once more, clutching tightly round the waist of the man she had trusted her heart with. His face she couldn’t see, as it was masked behind his helmet, but she could feel his warmth pouring into her. She could hear his laughter at her request, and she could tell he was smiling.

 

“Why? This is fun.” Jacob replied, pressing the bike on, even though they weren’t working. Ari punched him lightly in the shoulder, requesting again for him to slow down: “Come on, this isn’t fun. Please.” Jacob sighed, and then spoke with an interesting request. “Babe, tell me you love me.” His hands clutched tighter on the handlebars.

 

“I love you, you know tha—Please, slow down!” She exclaimed as they rushed past a van bearing the Sky symbol on it, the Simpsons making the background. She wrapped her hands tighter around his waist, but he still didn’t slow. “Ok, this is scaring me now, please Jacob.” Once again, he kept going, and yet he made another request.

 

“Let go, and then hug me, like you usually do.” And she did, puzzled by what he was saying. Still, the bike roared along the road.

 

“Oh, and Ari, can you take my helmet off and wear it? It’s starting to bug me.” She did so, catching a glance of his dark brown hair as she pulled on the helmet. And then it was black.

 

---

 

The news man continued his report;

 

“Late last afternoon, a bike carrying two passengers were accelerating when, according to the police, the bikes broke, causing the bike to continue accelerating with no stop. A man and a woman were found on the bike, the woman on the back while the man was driving. Just when they hit 80, the bike plummeted into the wall. Had the driver been wearing a helmet, perhaps both would have survived, but only the woman did so. Police are still looking further into—“

 

The TV switched off, and Ari collapsed into the sofa.

 

And cried.

 

Genetica - wings. (failed chaptered story. may continue, I dunno.)

Bucktooth laughed, and it wasn’t long before a chorus of chuckles came from the group of four lads. They weren’t very old – far from it, mid-twenties at the oldest – and were good at their job. They didn’t ask questions as long as they got their money. And yet, they were all thinking the same thing – why this kid?

 

The kid in question was fourteen in three months, clothed in only a black pair of jeans with a black leather belt and a pair of clashing white trainers. His hair was a striking crimson red – anyone who asked he assured it was natural – which matched his eyes. His nose was bent to one side as a result of it being broken. His lips were cracked, even though it was the middle of summer, and his ears were small and slightly too far down to be natural on his face.

 

One-Ear took a punch at his face, and hit – the boys head couldn’t go any further than the stone wall already beside him, so his cheek took a smashing. Yet when his head turned back, he smiled, causing another chorus of laughter.

 

“Geez,” Crisps said, “they told us it would be easy, but that was an underation.”

 

“Understatement.” The boy responded automatically. “It was an understatement, not an underation. Underation isn’t even a wor-“ He didn’t finish his sentence; his other cheek was sent into the matching wall on his other side. The boy spat blood, before turning back to the four lads and smiling again. Bucktooth shivered; this kid was creepy.

 

The boys eyes surveyed the four lads once more – he didn’t know their real names, nor did he care to. For the moment, they were Bucktooth, One-Ear, Crisps and Driver. Driver didn’t speak, but the teenager had seen him driving the beat-up Renault Mégane the four had turned up in. Bucktooth was named because of his buck teeth which always stuck out because of his overbite. Crisps was currently rummaging through a bag of Doritos trying to find any last crumbs (he was also incredibly overweight, so it was obvious that he liked those last few crumbs) and One-Ear’s deformed face was so gruesome that the boy hadn’t even bothered to look twice at him. Until he got the fist in his face, of course.

 

There was a moment of quiet whispering from the four men. Finally deciding on the best course of action, Bucktooth pulled a combat knife from his left pocket. The boy groaned; he hadn’t spotted that. Bucktooth raised the knife, and was about to bring it down at the boy when he did exactly what the kid had wished for – he hesitated.

 

“Can’t do it, can you? Murder an innocent child?” The boy said softly. He could see the strain in Bucktooth’s brow. “I wouldn’t recommend you do, either; you might get hurt.” The boy concluded. Strain was quickly replaced by fury, blind rage. And blind rage leads to mistakes.

 

Bucktooth didn’t hesitate this time, bringing down the knife at the boys head – or where the boy’s head would have been moments before, had it not slammed against Bucktooth’s forehead, surprisingly sending the grown man teetering backwards and hitting the far wall, collapsing next to the window. The whole process had happened in less than seconds, but everyone else in the room could’ve sworn it had taken hours.

 

The boy spun, landing a kick into One-Ear’s gut. Still trying to get over the fact that Bucktooth had been thrown backwards – nevertheless by a child – he hadn’t anticipated the attack, and naturally he hadn’t thrown up his arms to defend himself. If he had, perhaps the boy wouldn’t have had to smash the wooden lamp over his head to successfully knock him unconscious.

 

With the skill of a gold-medal athlete, the boy back flipped, spinning as he landed softly on his feet and getting an uppercut right in an astounded Crisps’ chin. After making a graceful three-hundred-and-sixty degree spin in the air, Crisps hit the floor, the breath rushing out of his body and the room around him spinning. He began to scream; a quick kick from the boy into his nose silenced that, however.

 

Driver took out his white handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing his sweat-ridden forehead. This was supposed to be an easy job. Never did he think he would live to see the day his trio of partners sprawled out across a room unconscious. They had all agreed beforehand if one of them had to give his life, it would be him.

 

The boy had turned now and Driver could see the anger in his eyes. It wasn’t a pretty anger, nor a friendly anger, and it didn’t seem like this could end up as a win situation. Driver coughed uncomfortably, though his eyes didn’t flicker at all, for fear of assault from his opponent.

 

“You know,” Driver said, causing the boy to hesitate; he hadn’t heard Driver speak once as of yet, “you’re pretty good, kid. Maybe we could make a deal?”

 

That was his last shot, and it wasn’t a great one, as it rewarded him with a nice kick in the gut, robbing him of his breath immediately. He fell to the floor as his knees buckled, and the boy rested his foot on Driver’s ear.

 

“First, you guys are nothing, I’m guessing. Lowest of the low. Second, I don’t make deals. I’m after someone and something that no one can help but a single person. Thirdly, the name is Gabriel. Don’t forget it.” And that was the last that Driver would hear for the rest of his life, as both his ears popped at the same time and began to leak blood.

 

Driver’s vision grew blurry, but through the window he could have sworn he had just seen the kid split open his back, jump into the air and fly away on a pair of dark black feathered wings. No, Driver thought. Hallucinations.

 

And then he fell unconscious like his trio of partners.

 

No Safety (another failed chaptered)

Nikita Conimoto was irregularly judged by her Japanese-sounding name; here she sat, a true American, on the steps of Corrie Monger High, the swift wind lashing through her chocolate brown hair which would whip through the hair for a moment before swiftly landing down to her shoulders again. Her long fingers coiled around the stick of her Twister – an ice cream that was normal aside from a swirl of either red or green across the outside, and then the corresponding colour in the centre. Her tongue swirled around the small remains of whatever was left, as her young, playful blue eyes examined the area around her. She knew it well enough already – she had lived in the area for six years. However, that never stopped finding new surprises. And a new surprise was just what was going to happen today for young Nikita.

 

A black limousine drove up in front of the school, and everyone turned at the same time to stare at it – cars like these were an oddity in this sort of neighbourhood. The car’s engine roared once then went dead silent, as had the rest of the street. Everybody had frozen – their eyes were all fixed in complete envy upon the vehicle. It wasn’t much to Nikita, as she had seen many of these in New York, during her early childhood. But she stared all the same.

 

The door slid sideways to open instead of the normal way, attracting a few gasps from some of the watching students. Nikita smiled, realising that they had probably never seen anything this extravagant. But moments later, the smile was gone.

 

The man that stepped out was almost as much of an oddity as the car – he was tall, bearing a large chest, and wearing a full cream suit. A red tie was swung around his neck rather loosely, and on his head was a hat that matched the suit’s colour with a strip of red that matched the ties colour. He wore sunglasses with blue tinted lenses, and a firm brown moustache and rugged beard coated his face, both lifted into a toothy smile. It was almost as though he had stepped out of a comic book world, and many people were stifling laughs.

 

But Nikita wasn’t laughing. She was already on her feet, her long nails digging into her palms, a worried look creeping across her face. She thought it was over. Clearly, she had been wrong.

 

The man raised his hand to his face, pulling down the glasses an inch, revealing beady button-eyes. His stare turned to a running schoolgirl with red-stained palms, who’s short blue skirt was flapping wildly in the wind as she darted into a nearby alleyway, who had decided to drop the black-and-yellow jacket she had been wearing behind her, as well as her bag. She was trying to get lighter, get more speed. Excellent, the man thought. The chase begins.

[Kitty]

"I Know You Do"

 

Beautiful. :D

 

I loved it. <3

 

"Driving Between Lines"

 

D: That's sad. T.T

 

Genetica - wings. (failed chaptered story. may continue, I dunno.)

 

Awesome story. You should continue it.

[Lord Ursus]

Here I read the work of a fantastic writer, and I loved every single story you wrote!

 

You, my good sir, are amazing.

 

Do continue to write. :)

[The Warden]

My good sir, have now to meet moi.

 

I know you do

Touching, to people who still have hearts. In a way, very overdescriptive (not really a bad thing), but has a habit of repeating itself.

 

Driving between the lines

I think I felt some blood being pumped, but otherwise, cliche.

 

Genetica - Failed Wings

Erm, Ducky?

 

No Safety

Beady button eyes, what is this, Coraline?