This is a creative writing piece I wrote for English, and my teacher said it was good, so I thought I’d post it.
A Never Ending Nightmare
Flames. Everywhere, as far as the eye could see, there were flames. Licking at the walls, burning the old, warn furniture, destroying. Destroying. For that’s what fire does; destroys. Showing no mercy, it devours everything in its path, always hungry for more. As it was now. So hungry….
Amber eyes darted around, searching for an escape. None. No. I can’t lose… I can’t lose again. Wildly turning, he darted across the floor, just to come across another wall of flames. So close. Too close…. Without warning, the flames closed in, locking him in a fiery prison.
“No!” With a start, Damon sat up, banging his head on the lid of his coffin. He growled in pain and slowly lay back down, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. It had been so real…. So much like before. For months Damon had been having the same haunting dream. The dream of the night he had lost not just his home and family, but his hopes and plans for the future as well. They went up in flames, just like everything he had ever loved. As if they had never been. He couldn’t think or anything worse than that. The effect the fire had on his life was truly horrific, and he could never forget. Time would do nothing to heal his wounds. Then was then, and now was now, he knew, but he couldn’t let go of the past. He remembered that night so well… too well. He couldn’t erase the scene that played in his head like a movie… a never ending nightmare.
“All vampires will die!” The hunters glared at Damon and his family, their eyes filled with hatred. They had come late, maybe two in the morning, but Damon didn’t know for sure since he couldn’t be bothered to look at a clock. The men broke down the door and swarmed into the house like a team of angry bees, about to sting their pray. In their hands were torches, hot, glowing, fiery torches. Death on a stick. Fire was, unfortunately, one of the few things that could kill a vampire. Blades or bullets had no affect on the demons of the night, as they were called. And the men obviously knew it.
Damon, his parents, and his younger brother backed away slowly, exchanging glances of fear and alarm. The hunters came closer, grinning evilly. The effect their torches had on the old house was deadly. Flames billowed around the vampires, burning, suffocating. Damon did the only thing he could think of. He ran. His shoe laces came loose, but he kicked his sneakers away, and continued to run. Without looking back, he raced away from the flames, getting out of the house just before everything collapsed.
When people say they’ve lost everything, they often exaggerate. But that night, Damon truly lost everything. Or at least he lost everything that he cared about. His home, his possessions, his family…. He might as well have died in that fiery hell with them. But no, he had lived, and his past haunted him nightly. He just couldn’t escape.
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