William Thorn had always been a good boy, he didn’t hang with the trash from the Harbour, nor the street urchin from the city. When he was a little boy London had been a flourishing, beautiful city full of helpful people and a nice enviroment. His father had been a shoemaker for the upper class and they always had food on the table. But by his 23rd birthday London had been completely industrialized, thick, dark smog filled the streets of London. William had already married and opened up a shop of his own, a bookstore. But the smog that killed so many each year made the enviroment sad, an opposite of the London William remembered from his childhood, and it drove him to the brink of insanity from time to time, he hated it, but he told no one. Then one fateful day, he had to let loose of all the anger built up inside of him, it felt like everyone was nabbing at him today, even his loving wife. Just as he closed up show and was on his way home, he sees Roswell, the multimillionaire entrepeneur, a synonym for murderer in Williams mind. Roswell was on of the most atrocious businessman in the London area, and there he was all by himself, whistling on a tune, William knew what had to be done, he was close to his home so he went in, sneaked past his wife sleeping in the bedroom, went up the attic, and found what he was looking for, a dagger of indian decent, a highly exotic knife called a Kadhjar his dad had said, it had been a gift from a wealthy noble,  but his father had no use of it, and had given it to William with a note on it where it said”Be careful” written on it. He took the blade and quickly went out into the street again, trying to hide the oversized knife as best he could. He scurried a bit until he found Roswell. William had much hate for Roswell, not only had he fired his wife without reason, there was also talk of her being molested by Roswell, tho she spoke nothing of it, but by far what made William Thorn hate Roswell was because it was his factories that created the smog, the INSUFFERABLE SMOG, he hated it with such passion!

He was close now, he could hear Roswell breathe, his heart was pumping, the adrenaline was flowing!

One, two, it was do or die now, THREE!

Williams hand moved automatically against Roswells left side, puncturing his lung, a big  red wound on his jacket, Roswell tries to scream, but to no avail, his blood flowed on Gatesides cobbled streets. William was in shock, why was he holding a bloodstained Kadhjar in his hand, and why was there a man dying before him, drunken slurring voices from around the corner bring him back to earth, and William started running, running as hard as he could, down to the docks…

That was one(huge) part of a short story I wrote in the 8th grade, and I was really surprised at how good it was compared to what I can produce now, Have I lost my creative writing growing up?

I’m thinking about rewriting it a bit and finishing it, and it has once again sparked my interest in writing stories, another major factor for that was that I recently bought two of John Green’s books, Looking for Alaska and Will Grayson Will Grayson(the latter written with David Levithan) further fueling my passion for writing. If you havent read them I suggest, nay I command you to go buy them both, THEY ARE AWESOME.

Let me know if you want me to publish the complete short story on the blog.

Cheers

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