Could you read my creative writing/short story?

Tell me what you like/hate


Is anything too cliché?


Is it interesting/boring?


Anything which doesn't make sense?


... or any additional general thoughts


oh, and please be honest... i won't be offended if you absolutely hate it.





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As the icy crystals frolicked and danced down onto the white bedded paths, the two fragile bodies scurried along, threading through the pillows of snow.


“James, how much further?” begged Sarah.


James lowered his eyes down to check. The sides of the map, being clutched by his trembling hands, began to crumple under his fists. His burdened legs began to slow to a stop, standing dangerously in the bitter Russian snow-storm which was now belting across his hardened body. James’ body was not use to temperatures of such proportions. Relatively slim and fleshless, his body was only protected by his red snow coat and thick black pants.





Sarah, bearing the latest 1924 ‘DuPont’ backpack, curiously began to gather her surroundings as she stood, waiting. Clumps of her black stringy hair began to flail in the coarse wind while her hazel eyes darted around, taking in the demolished surroundings.


To her right was a grey, stone wall. As she turned her head, noticing the ratty remnants of a black and white poster, her upper lip twitched: a spontaneous reaction of what she saw.


Her trembling voice muttered out the English translation written at the bottom of what appeared to be just one of the many advertisements of Leninism. “We shall go forward. Step higher with energy and unity of will. V.I. Lenin” The skin between her eyebrows began to crumple and mount as concern grew on her face.





“Well, unless there’s something wrong with this map, the cabin should be within eyesight”, James noted. He raised his angular, stubbly face trying to see past the ruins and rubble which had completely destroyed any sense of direction. “I don’t know, Sarah. Maybe it was a bad idea, leaving Jeremy in Finland. He would have known where to go.” Sarah looked to James with frustration building in her ice encrusted eyebrows.


“James…” she said sternly, “…That tour guide is was thief. I don’t want anything to do with him. I can’t believe he stole my handbag while we were out – that had everything: my passport, my personal diary and a quarter of our holiday fund ….he probably stole it for that harlot of a girlfriend”. Just as she had finished mumbling derisively under her breath, a sharp crack mounted through the crisp air, leaving Sarah on the ground, wheezing uncontrollably faster and faster, gasping for air like somebody who had been stabbed by a cold, blunt blade. A red fountain of life began trickling from her knee, rolling down, onto the snow. The perplexing contrast of the vivid red, speckled against the white backdrop left Sarah feeling a little light headed.


James, maintaining his poise, uttered in a coercive voice, “Sarah; I want you to jump on the count of three. OK?”


“You want me to what?”





“One…” Sarah’s weak, broken body hurriedly ascended, preparing for the abnormal event.


“Two…”


“Three”


As they leapt up through the thin air, their stomachs maintained momentum towards the sky only to be flung back down, plummeting back towards the bedding of snow. Sarah was the first to feel her boots breaking through the layer of crunchy snow only to realise that she wasn’t coming to a stop. Her brown leather boots continued, jolting down through the layer of snow, splitting the ground into pieces and falling through. Shards of wood exploded around Sarah and James as their weighted bodies continued dropping further into the ground. As they plummeted down into the darkness, under the ground, a cold floor immediately halted their momentum.


Their frames lay like innocent rag dolls, in the dank, frigid air of the old underground tunnel.





“w..wh..where are we?”, James murmured with a distinct groan. Battering open his eyelids, his eyes were now ready to adjust to the darkness. Raising his head, in the distance he could see a faint light: at the end of the tunnel, a dim glow of yellow light. “Sarah…. are you ok? I think I can see a way out.” His trembling yet timid voice echoed through the emptiness, resonating off the stone walls.


“Uughhh… yes I’m…. I will manage”, replied Sarah, with what was left of her waning breath.


“James…” As Sarah began to express concern, a distant rattling noise echoed through the tunnel: the noise of a rolling metal, like the sound of a scuttling train. “James - we need to leave.” Sarah’s feeble body rose up off the cold cement, in order to look behind them. She could see somebody coming: the shadow of a figure and a trolley could be seen approaching the vulnerable tourists. As the figure moved closer towards them, the sound of footsteps accompanied with the tinny rattle of the trolley grew ever closer. Sarah felt her pulse pumping and throbbing throughout her body. Her breathing grew heavy, gasping for air. James extended his arm out, t|||It's not finished yet, is it?


I like it. It's very descriptive in a way that's informative not just irritatingly repetitive.





Well it's left an impression on me. I want to find out what happens next!|||i skimmed but WOW you're a great writer! You use good descriptions so it's kinda like tv in my head when i read it. You have good vocabulary like "icy crystals frolicked and danced into the white...along."





Good job! You should publish stuff lol.|||Simply fabulous :)|||you are a genius guy.you can convey your feelingswell.it a great thing.i am an expert author and i know when a story is really good.ypur story was not at all irritating.it is quite a achievement.it is just astounding,but try to make it seem that the story has really ended.