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Brendan Gibbons

United States

The Roxbury Latin School~Boston, Ma

I'm 14 years old. I love to write, read, play and listen to music, draw, and act!

Message to Readers

I don't usually write fantasy but, I thought I would give it a try. I would love constructive criticism on this piece and I hope you like it!

Under The Willow

June 7, 2015

A tail flickers through the reeds of the marshland.  The creature, a small, furry, grey animal, darts around picking at anything it can get its hands on.  It peeks throught the tall grass to meet an open lake, it pauses, and runs up to the lake looks around and sticks its face in the water, taking in all the cold fresh liquid.  After a few seconds, it looks up to see pink aromatic flowers.  First one, then two then hundreds of flowers floating in the lake.  The creature doesn't know what to think by it. It turns back to go into the reeds, when it is met by a man.  Tall and slender wearing slicked back, jet black hair and an orange shortsleeved, collared shirt.  He has round broad-rim glasses. The creature begins to run to the left of the man but is caught short and is flown in the air.  His tail is caught by the small hand of the man.  The small, beady red eyes of the creature are met by the emerald green eyes.  He looks at it for a quick moment then lets it down on the dry mud as it quickly scurries out of his hand.  

The man takes a thick breath of moist air and picks up a round flower putting the pistols right up his nose. He looks up to the glistening sun setting into the trees beyond the marsh. 

The first sense of emotion he showed was fear. Night time brought this feeling. This feeling was shone through the paleness of his face mixed with the slight twitch of his hand.  The sun finally set below the earth which began the pacing.  Thinking about whether to make a run for the safe zone or try to hide where he was began to lose track of time.  Five minutes went by.  Pacing did nothing.  Ten minutes went by.  Thinking did nothing.  Fifteen minutes went by.  Praying did nothing.  And on the twentieth minute, that is when all hope was lost.  There was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable.  Stranded on a small island waiting as the tide rose.  He felt like an infant, not knowing what would happen, but knowing enough that there was no hope for him.  He takes off his glasses, the world around him spinning.  Rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, closing his eyes, accepting his fate. Then, through the thick reeds and marsh grass he could hear the soft drone of something growing lowder every second. Then, it stopped. The man pulled away from his fear, and looked up at the pitch black sky.  Not a single star was showing and there was no moon anymore. All of the recourses were drawn from the moon a long time ago which the government then deemed unnecessary. The man remembered a time when the moon was there in the sky. He thought that he had finally heard silence.

Then he heard a scream.  An excrutiating sound that came from someone else. A person. Then the noise began again.  The man then looked towards the noise coming faster than ever.  He began to run, hoping that something would help him get away. Then he looked back to see the reeds blowing slightly.  He kept running. Nothing could help him.  He began to panic, getting scratched all over his body from the sharp reeds. Turning back once more, he saw a bright light flashing through the reeds. Run, he thought, run as fast as you can, dont think, just run.  A huge willow tree stood before him just as he could not run any longer. 

He hid in the safety bubble of the willow's branches, preparing himself for what was coming. It became quiet. Fireflies silently danced all around him. The scrawny man fiddled around his shirt pocket, bringing out a rusted old pocketknife engraved with the faint letters: M-A-T-T.  He squints trying to see what he was pulling out.  A small, dull knife flipped out. Matt clenched the pocketknife making his knuckles starch white.  Tiny beads of sweat began to form and slide down his thin face. Then, he rested up against the tall base of the tree. 

The noise came before the light which came before the aircraft. Matt waited a couple of minutes after the noise started up again before getting up. Just as soon as he got up, the light flashed through the willows long drooping branches. He begins to whisper nonsense to himself, expecting the end. As the minutes go by, he closes his eyes.  Then he feels a heavy breeze come through the branches of the tree. The outline of an aircraft is illuminated by the fireflies. He looks up to see it floating not but twenty feet in front of him hovering above the ground. He can barely make out the details of the ship, but he knows that it's not good. Then, a burst of light emerged from a hatch in the aircraft. Matt covers his eyes for a second from the light. A claw comes out of the hatch towards the man. The only thing he can hear is the slight drone of a machine and his heavy breathing. 

The claw extends towards Matt and opens up. He backs up but is stopped by the trunk of the willow. He turns around to run but just as he turns around the claw grabs his legs and drags him into the light and the aircraft, out from under the willow.


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