Without a Plan

Prolouge

Written by: Renaker

This night is cold. It’s even colder as the wind whips across me. Smoke envelopes my surrounding. I look around, clueless, and continue running. My legs are sore, and all I want to do is rest.

                “But I can’t.” I cry to myself…maybe just once I can rest.

                As I kneel, I yell, “Daddy! Dad! Where are you?” but the only response I get is the sounds of crying children, and yelling mothers, all hurrying down the street as I am. The once big city I live in has been reduced to rubble. Corpses are laid around me, everywhere I look. Scruffling up my brown hair, I run on.

                Fire trucks and ambulances race by, hoping to get something accomplished. I whiz by two flipped over cars, and am tired out, and as panicked as can be, when I hear the explosion from behind. As I flip around to watch the buildings fall, instinct brings me to duck behind a trash can. Why? Why does a six year old have to endure this?  Fires and explosions are for those movies I see with Daddy. Not for real life. Daddy, where are you?

                Remarkably, my question is answered. “Jake!” I hear a faint, ruff voice call from the building behind me. The door is already open-no, the door has been blown off. Racing through, into a small room, where only bodies lie, I only want Daddy.

                “Dad?” I whimper.

                “Here, son, over here.” Daddy says. I burst out with tears when I find him wincing on the floor, blood covering his stomach, ruining his American military general uniform. His five little stars have been either chipped, or fallen off.

                “Jake. There is something you need to know.” He says, gasping for breath. He can’t die, can he? He won’t die, right? I need him! I nod my head frantically, wanting to hear the rest. “I…we…found out…” he barely makes out before coughing hysterically. He can’t make out the rest before wheezing terribly, clutching part of his stomach where the blood is scouring from.  He moans loudly before giving me one last, pleading look.

The next thing I know, he isn’t moving…at all. His hand falls limp to the ground.

                “D-Daddy?”

                Nothing happens.

                “Daddy!”

                That is the last thing that happens before I wake up in the orphanage, home, as I call it, nearly nine years later.

Author's Note- I didn't actually write this, this is Megan13. But I just wanted to explain this story to the readers. There are 4 authors of this story. Nalene, ShakespearsDiscipl,e Renaker, and me. We have no plan for this story at all. I didnt know Renaker was going to write that up there and so now I'm just going to build off that. Each author can shape the story the way they want it without having to have an okay by the group. I thought it sounded like a good idea so here it goes. Please comment what you think of the idea:)