Status: Discontinued until further notice.
Le Liberté
through battle cries we call for help
It had been three long and treacherous years since Hartley had first heard a gunshot go off in the streets of her neighborhood. She remembered jumping over to her window, cell phone pressed to her ear while a battalion of teenagers cried and screamed out for all the teens to run outside. Another gunshot.
It seems as though just yesterday Hartley was dying to run off with the rebellion. Her parents, unappreciative and annoyed with her prescience, constantly pushed her around simply because she was there. Hartley was tired of being the whipping post, so after the third gunshot rang out and a few twenty or thirty teenagers were rallying with the others in the streets, she slipped her old and dirty shoes on and ran outside. She remembered her mother screaming at her, asking if she was crazy, but Hartley wasn't mad. No, she was as sane as she would ever be in her entire life.
Then the teens screamed out loud shouts of rebel taunts, many of the others pulling out guns and running into houses where teens hadn't came out yet. Many of them came back with a few children in their arms, simply coaxing them by saying, "Mommy and daddy are gonna go away for a very long time, a very, very long time.
Hartley's mother was already waiting for her outside of her house, hands on her hips.
"I'll call the police." She said. The teens chuckled at her before declaring the the cops have already been taken out, and they wouldn't have to worry about the police at all. Hartley's mother was stunned, stricken dumb.
Another gunshot and Hartley's mother was gone. Hartley jumped, but didn't make any quick movements to rescue her mother. Instead she joined the others in their chants of happiness. Many of the smaller kids were crying already.
Hartley remembered the look on the face of the man who shot her mother, her father as well when he came bounding down the stairs. He'd never come running if it were me that died, Hartley thought. But the look on that man's face was one she would never forget; full of satisfaction, yet still hungry. Blood lust quenched for now.
It seems as though just yesterday Hartley was dying to run off with the rebellion. Her parents, unappreciative and annoyed with her prescience, constantly pushed her around simply because she was there. Hartley was tired of being the whipping post, so after the third gunshot rang out and a few twenty or thirty teenagers were rallying with the others in the streets, she slipped her old and dirty shoes on and ran outside. She remembered her mother screaming at her, asking if she was crazy, but Hartley wasn't mad. No, she was as sane as she would ever be in her entire life.
Then the teens screamed out loud shouts of rebel taunts, many of the others pulling out guns and running into houses where teens hadn't came out yet. Many of them came back with a few children in their arms, simply coaxing them by saying, "Mommy and daddy are gonna go away for a very long time, a very, very long time.
Hartley's mother was already waiting for her outside of her house, hands on her hips.
"I'll call the police." She said. The teens chuckled at her before declaring the the cops have already been taken out, and they wouldn't have to worry about the police at all. Hartley's mother was stunned, stricken dumb.
Another gunshot and Hartley's mother was gone. Hartley jumped, but didn't make any quick movements to rescue her mother. Instead she joined the others in their chants of happiness. Many of the smaller kids were crying already.
Hartley remembered the look on the face of the man who shot her mother, her father as well when he came bounding down the stairs. He'd never come running if it were me that died, Hartley thought. But the look on that man's face was one she would never forget; full of satisfaction, yet still hungry. Blood lust quenched for now.
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New Rev story. Probably going to be short chapters.—Sonshine.♥