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Gianna Ventura ~ May 2020

Page history last edited by michianawriterscenter@... 4 months, 3 weeks ago

Featured Author~ Gianna Ventura

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

Meet Gianna...

Whenever I walk into a room, the first thing I notice is the people. I’m shy to strangers, but I would definitely say I’m an extrovert around friends and family. Sometimes I feel left out because I’m short for my age, but I like being small. I enjoy reading fantasy and adventure books, but my style of writing is usually darker. When I’m not writing, you can find me running, dancing, playing my guitar, or watching T.V.

 

Lighthouse

     Rose stared out the window of her grandfather’s lighthouse. The sky was dark, and fog gathered over the ocean. The lighthouse was where Rose came to think, and her mother’s suicide had given her a lot to think about. It was so sudden that it made Rose wonder if it was her fault. Rose put her hand to her cheek and felt the dried tears staining her face as she gazed out the window, feeling empty.

     She wandered downstairs to a small table with a candle perched on top. Rose blew out the dying candle, welcoming the darkness of the night. Then she slowly tiptoed over to the couch that sat by the door, causing the floorboards to creak with every step. Rose wrapped a blanket around her body, falling into an alternate reality. As she began to drift off to sleep, Rose repeated the only lie that could comfort her, trying to convince herself that her mother was alive. Little did she know, that lie was actually the truth.

 

   

Escape

     Even though I can feel my heart beating, it still seems like I’m dead, sitting in a cold, dark tomb. My legs are numb. My wrists are sore. I try to get up, but my hands are tied to a metal chair. I scoot across the floor, looking for some source of light. I keep scooting until I bump my head on an object hanging from the ceiling. Instantly a light turns on. I wince from the pain on my forehead and look around at the faintly lit room. I see three more people tied to metal chairs, and one of them is awake.

     “Uh...Hello?” I whisper.

     The stranger looks at me. He’s a tall muscular man with tattoos clothing his arms. His skin blends in with the shadows of the room. His dark brown eyes pierce right through me, and his face is frozen in a blank stare.       

     “Um...Who are you?” I ask nervously.

     The man stands up, hands untied.

     “C-can you untie me too?” I stutter.

     The man starts walking toward me. He’s wearing a white tank top with stains and holes. Gray sweatpants drape over his black hiking boots. As I start to scoot away from him, my metal chair scrapes the floor. He keeps walking, thick boots clunking. I keep scooting. I back up into a wall and my chair stops. The man does not.

     “S-stop! Don’t come any closer!” I say, trying to sound intimidating.

     The man walks right up to me and stares me dead in the eyes. I try to return the harsh look, but I pull away from his gaze. He grabs me by the neck with large, cold hands and pulls me close to his face. I feel his hot, dirty breath on my cheek.

     His voice is low and gravelly. “Ten hours,” he rasps.

     The man lets go of my neck and walks slowly away from the light. As I watch him being swallowed by the darkness, I begin to wonder what he meant. I blink slowly, but when I open my eyes, a pitch-black room is the only thing greeting me. It feels like I never really opened my eyes. I sit in the dark room, waiting. Waiting for  something. Either freedom or death, whatever gets me out of here quicker.

 

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