So I'm thinking of writing a new short story (I know, it's been forever) but I want to know if the idea had been done too many times before?
Just check out my first few paragraphs and let me know what you think?
Sorcha looked over Katie Mallory’s unconscious body, unable
to do anything. The bruise from her father’s punch was slowly forming over her
left eye, the blood from her nose was quickly drying, and yet, the girl looked
at peace. Katie’s mother was crying softly
in the room above where her daughter lay, tidying her bedroom in a drastic
attempt to calm herself. Her father stared at his own fist, still curled up in
anger, after finding his daughter was not his little girl anymore. Sorcha
wished that Katie had taken another path in life, one not so damaging to her
emotional state.
Sorcha vanished in the blink of an eye, not that anyone in
the room had noticed. She ran down the romanesque corridors to the head office.
Images of happy children covered the walls, much like a child’s bedroom, an inspiration to all. She
tapped on the door at the far end of the corridor, waiting impatiently and
catching her breath. The door slowly opened after a few stretched seconds,
feeling like an eternity to Sorcha. She walked into the office many fear, the
stone desk littered with paperwork, two feather quills resting in an ink pot
next to some blotting paper. The rich red carpet lined the floor, the marble
fireplace burning a magnificent fire, casting a sunset aura in the room.
“Hmmm,” came a deep voice, slightly threatening, from behind
the ornate desk, “Sorcha Silverlight. I have seen you twice already this month,
and it’s only the first week. You walk into this office almost as much as a
second home. Is this task too much for you? Do you want to be demoted?”
“No, sir.” Replied her timid voice. “It’s about the Mallory’s.
It’s getting worse and I don’t know what to do. No matter how much I try, I
cannot get in touch with the human world. Katie is suffering, sir, and I want
to help. Nothing in my training prepared me for this!”
“You mean you are unable to make a simple phone call? Or talk
to your child?” His voice almost booming.
“Of course I tried, sir. Can you remember your first
assignment? Couldn’t the mentors see the implications of this mission? This isn’t
fair!” Sorcha slumped down on the soft carpet, much like a teenager throwing a
tantrum.
“Get
up you spoilt brat! Of course I remember. The child I was first assigned to,
died within two days. Black plague. Poor Henry,” He bowed his head with grief,
and Sorcha immediately moved to his side to put a comforting arm around his
shoulder. “We cannot predict the future, and as Guardian Angels, it is our duty
to help as many children in the world as possible."
This is as far as I have gotten in the past half hour (I get distracted)... Comment, email, text, kik me your views. :)
