The Harsh Reality - Something For You Guys To Think About :)

The Harsh Reality​

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The crisp morning air struck my hair with a feisty breeze. Not many people were out on such a fine day, the roads lay silent and the pathways lay empty. Walking along a shoulder-length high wall, I gently ran my finger across it; the hard, gritty dirt that had been collected over the years from just being stood there came off effortlessly and fell to the pavement. The sky was clear blue, and I amazingly couldn’t find a cloud in sight. The sun took over the sky, with its substantial rays stretching out over the little place I called home. As the breeze took control over the trees, they started to dance above me. Their leaves shook, threatening to fall at any moment.


Looking across the road there was a small boy with a toy gun in his hand. He wore denim jeans with a plain white t-shirt. His neatly trimmed brown hair complemented his face. He seemed to be chasing a girl who was around a year younger than he was. Her pink cotton dress flapped behind her as she ran away from the evil villain that her fellow friend was portraying.
“BANG BANG!” the small boy shouted while pointing the toy gun at her.
His yell pierced the silence of the street with a minute echo. The young girl dropped to the floor, just as if the bullet that came from the toy gun had hit her. She laid still on the hard rocky pavement with the exception of her chest that moved up and down and her occasional giggle. The small boy ran over to her. He began to try to help her, just as if he was another character, a hero even.
“Come on! You can do it Lucy! Wake up!” He encouraged her while shaking her shoulders back and forth harmlessly. Gently, the small girl lifted her head and grinned. Slowly looking away, I smiled to myself. Of course, she was going to be okay.


The crisp morning air struck my hair with a feisty breeze. A group of teenagers filled the streets, all swearing and laughing at one another. Walking along a shoulder-length high wall, I noticed all the graffiti that had been engraved onto it and collected over the years. The sky was blue with tints of a darkish grey from the power station a few miles away. The sun took over the sky with its substantial rays stretching out over the little place I was ashamed to call home.


The road was occupied with a small, cheap grey car that had music blaring from each window. The main driver had a joint in his mouth, the thick grey smoke filled up the car. He looked to be around his early twenties. He wore a white t-shirt with a red bandanna around his head. In the passenger seat was a girl. She was no older than fifteen and had a full bottle of cider in her hands. She gently gripped the top of the bottle with one hand, and supported the bottom of it with the other as she drank from it.


“Yo, Mellissa!” One of the teenage boys on the street yelled to the girl in the car.
“What’s up?” The girl in the passenger seat effortlessly replied while slowly getting out of the car.
Before the boy could reply, a small blue car, similar to the grey one, sped up at the side of them. One of the tinted windows slowly opened and a black device was pointed through the window and aiming at the girl.
“Mellissa! Watch out!” The guy in the grey car screamed while throwing his joint out of the window and putting the car into drive.


The bullets that were released from the gun pierced the street with many echoes. The young girl dropped to the floor, she looked like she had been hit multiple times from the gun. She laid still on the hard rocky pavement, no part of her body moved. As the blue car sped off into the distance, the middle-aged boy got out of his car and ran over to her and began to try to help her.
“No...no, this can’t be happening. Yo, Mellisa! Wake up! Please wake up!” He screamed at her while kneeling beside her on the hard rocky pavement. Her body laid still and the blood that lay around her started to travel further down the street. Slowly looking away, I felt a tear come to my eye at what I had just witnessed. This was reality.

 

this is sad but good writing

 

Innocent victim of a drive by shooting. It happens. Especially in places like the U.S. where everyone who wants a gun, has a gun.

The writing is not bad, but could be edited for improvement. Spelling and grammar are good. You're ready to try for a short story with a little more of a story line, maybe some character development. Keep it up.