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My attempt at writing a story
A) I am better at poetry, and mostly write short poems.
B) It is a bucket list item of mine to write a book one day. Or at least a short story.
C) This is a ROUGH draft, beginning of a short story. It is no where near a complete story. I know, it's a cliff hanger. haha.
D) I am looking for constructive criticism/comments/anything you would like to say in regards to this short segment.
Without further ado, I give you my "not yet titled" story...thanks in advance for reading over it!
As she stumbled on the curb, the woman put her hand against the wall to steady herself. She didn’t recognize this street; didn’t know any of the buildings she saw around her. Why was she here? How did she get to this unfamiliar place? As the rain began falling harder, Angela ducked under an awning for shelter. It was starting to get colder, now that the clouds had covered what was left of the setting sun. In a quick flash of light from a passing car, Angela caught a glimpse of the street sign on the corner. Oliver St. and Franklin St. is where she had ended up. The street names gave her no more idea of where she was than she had before. Angela took a few deep breaths, gathered her thoughts, and ran out from under her small shelter. She gave a quick look to both sides before hurrying across the street. There were no cars to be seen; it was strange how little traffic there was. Back home, there was always a steady buzz of cars going by her apartment, and the occasional siren of a cop or ambulance speeding by.
After walking a few more blocks, Angela stopped in front of a church. She was now completely drenched and starting to shiver, thanks to the wind that had picked up along the way. There weren’t any lights on that she could see, but when Angela pushed on the door, it opened easily. She tip-toed into the foyer; grateful that the church believed in heat. As she took a step forward, Angela heard something coming from the sanctuary. She stopped and strained to hear what was going on. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she also didn’t want to walk in on someone’s private prayer or confession. A man’s voice floated from the room ahead, muffled, but loud enough for her to know he was upset. She didn’t hear anyone else, but it sounded as if the man was talking to someone. She crept a little closer, keeping her body close to the wall. As she peeked around the corner, she could see the man was standing by the altar. He was propped up on one hand, leaning against an ornate pewter-colored table. Sitting on the steps that led to the pulpit was a second man. He was dressed in a traditional priest’s robe, though there were several dark stains on the once white fabric. Angela couldn’t tell if it was dirt or blood. All she knew was that she didn’t want to know. The seated man ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. Angela turned to walk back to the front door; wanting to step back out into the rain. She felt guilty for leaving, when obviously something was wrong, but she also felt guilty for intruding on what seemed to be a private conversation. It wasn’t like there was anything she could do to help, right? She took a couple of steps towards the door she had entered, when suddenly, everything went black.
When Angela woke up, it was no longer raining. Her head ached, and she was a little groggy. She looked around, trying to orient herself to her, once again, new surroundings. “This has got to stop happening!” she thought to herself. This time as she took in the scenery, Angela was greeted by a garden view. There were flowers growing on trees, on bushes, on vines that wound around poles, in addition to all the flowers growing up from the ground itself. The sun was shining once again, with only a few clouds here and there across the bright sky. It was beautiful, and if she could just figure out how she got here, Angela might be able to enjoy the peaceful setting. She stood up and began walking through the garden to see what else was there. She saw a gate at one end, and jogged over to it. Since the gate was made of wrought iron slats, she could see what was on the other side. A run down building sat directly across from the garden. It was a large building, and the gate wasn’t very wide, so she couldn’t see if anything sat on either side of the crumbling brick wall. She tried to open the gate, but it wouldn’t budge. She turned to see if there was another entrance somewhere, since she got in somehow. A quick sweep of the garden showed no signs of a way out, so Angela sat down and leaned against the gate to rest while she thought for a moment. What had happened last night? Did she faint? Did someone hit her over the head? Was she drugged? Why? More importantly, how did she get to that church to begin with? What city had she mysteriously traveled to? Angela had no answers for any of these questions. She shook her head, and decided to at least try to figure out where she was currently. That was a start, she supposed.
As Angela made her way across the garden, she nearly tripped over something metal sticking up from the ground. As her toe kicked the object, there was a sharp pain in her already throbbing head. Angela fell to the ground as if someone had hit her with something, but she didn’t blackout this time, surprisingly. She reached up to feel the spot where the pain was so intense, but found no bumps, no lumps, and no blood. “Strange”, she thought. She crawled over to take a closer look at what she had kicked. It looked kind of like a radio transmitter or something. When she pulled on it, the pain in her head was almost unbearable. Angela quickly released the transmitter and lay on the ground, breathing heavily from the shock of the pain. Once she recovered, Angela decided not to attempt touching the object again. Instead, she bent down as close as she could and noticed something written on the side. It looked like a foreign language, one Angela had never seen before. It read “Ea care citeşte acest lucru, se cunosc adevărul.” Angela sounded it out the best she could. As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt as if the air had been knocked out of her.
When Angela felt well enough to breathe again, she opened her eyes. What she saw in front of her amazed her. A woman stood before her, but she didn’t look like any woman Angela had ever seen. She was tall, maybe 6 and a half feet, and had very short, auburn hair. She had a clear complexion, with just a hint of rose to her cheeks. Her clothes were not modern, but timeless, as if she could fit in anywhere, but at the same time, no where at all. The being opened her mouth to speak, and Angela noticed that even though what the woman was saying was a completely different language, she could understand her perfectly. The bell-like voice soothed the headache Angela had been feeling, and calmed her anxiety at not knowing where she was. All Angela could do was relax and let the feeling wash over her.