A short story for my mock exam.
gang of three boys, who had caught a boy from their rival gang. Blood was
trickling from his leg, and the gun pointing at his head silenced his screams.
The gun - holders face was carefully lit up by the street lamp from above, so
you could just see the scar from a fight two years back.
- Say you're sorry!, the gun - holder screamed at the helpless teenager who had
fallen to the pavement. He was leaned up against a wall, clothed in a pair of
jeans and a t - shirt
- I'm sorry!, he answered back, taking the opportunity to scream in pain at the
same time.
- Say you'll never do it again!, the pain in his leg was becoming unbearable.
He was already regretting his gangs decission of breaking in to the wearhouse
located outside of their bounds. This street just didn't belong to them, and
they were definately going to pay.
- Didn't your mother ever teach you not to steal?, the boy loaded his gun and
pointed it back up toward the victims head. The young boy was fighting against
the pain, he could hardly think, but fear made him answer:
- She sss..d I w..d go t-t-t-o h...l, he mumbled.
- What?!, the boy screamed impatiently, then continued.
- Is this how you show your mother respect? What did she teach you?, the
question came out with drops of spit that landed on the bleeding boys' cheek.
- She said I'd go to hell!, he answered as well as he could, again screaming in
pain.
- That's right! Your mother taught you well, for doesn't it say in the Bible;
Thou shalt not steal?, he asked. The boy nodded his head and looked up at his
rival. The boys stared at one another and silence had once again become a part
of this street. Again it was broken by another loud bang, and the boy who had
laid helpless on the ground was now silenced for good.
- You should have listened to your mother then, the boy said telling his
friends to get rid of the body. They did as they were told.
The boy went home, met his mother at the door, hugged her, and went to his
room. There he took out his Sunday - suit for church, kissed his cross and said
his prayer. The next day he was sitting as always on the front bench in the
church, admiring his father's speech. He had sat here every Sunday since he
could remember, and today he listened with grear interest as his father
finished off his speech;
- God loves us all. He has created us in His picture just as He wants us. So
who are we to judge? For to judge something so magnificent as a creature of
God, would be just as bad as to break your fifth commandment; Thou shalt not
kill.
The boy looked at his father with great admiration, and as his father asked;
- And the people said...?, the boy was the loudest to reply;
- Amen!
Short story by missjones
Read 609 times
Written on 2006-11-22 at 01:09
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The fifth commandment
A loud bang interrupted the streets of New York. The darkness surrounded thegang of three boys, who had caught a boy from their rival gang. Blood was
trickling from his leg, and the gun pointing at his head silenced his screams.
The gun - holders face was carefully lit up by the street lamp from above, so
you could just see the scar from a fight two years back.
- Say you're sorry!, the gun - holder screamed at the helpless teenager who had
fallen to the pavement. He was leaned up against a wall, clothed in a pair of
jeans and a t - shirt
- I'm sorry!, he answered back, taking the opportunity to scream in pain at the
same time.
- Say you'll never do it again!, the pain in his leg was becoming unbearable.
He was already regretting his gangs decission of breaking in to the wearhouse
located outside of their bounds. This street just didn't belong to them, and
they were definately going to pay.
- Didn't your mother ever teach you not to steal?, the boy loaded his gun and
pointed it back up toward the victims head. The young boy was fighting against
the pain, he could hardly think, but fear made him answer:
- She sss..d I w..d go t-t-t-o h...l, he mumbled.
- What?!, the boy screamed impatiently, then continued.
- Is this how you show your mother respect? What did she teach you?, the
question came out with drops of spit that landed on the bleeding boys' cheek.
- She said I'd go to hell!, he answered as well as he could, again screaming in
pain.
- That's right! Your mother taught you well, for doesn't it say in the Bible;
Thou shalt not steal?, he asked. The boy nodded his head and looked up at his
rival. The boys stared at one another and silence had once again become a part
of this street. Again it was broken by another loud bang, and the boy who had
laid helpless on the ground was now silenced for good.
- You should have listened to your mother then, the boy said telling his
friends to get rid of the body. They did as they were told.
The boy went home, met his mother at the door, hugged her, and went to his
room. There he took out his Sunday - suit for church, kissed his cross and said
his prayer. The next day he was sitting as always on the front bench in the
church, admiring his father's speech. He had sat here every Sunday since he
could remember, and today he listened with grear interest as his father
finished off his speech;
- God loves us all. He has created us in His picture just as He wants us. So
who are we to judge? For to judge something so magnificent as a creature of
God, would be just as bad as to break your fifth commandment; Thou shalt not
kill.
The boy looked at his father with great admiration, and as his father asked;
- And the people said...?, the boy was the loudest to reply;
- Amen!
Short story by missjones
Read 609 times
Written on 2006-11-22 at 01:09
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
