Post by James 'Sawyer' Ford on Aug 16, 2008 17:27:32 GMT -5
Sawyer slowly made his way out of his tent. He had a bad dream last night. The dream of his parent's death. No, it wasn't really a dream, more like a memory.
He was eight years old and there was this man named Sawyer that worked his way into his mother's life. He didn't like the man, but didn't bother to tell his mother, because she would just wave him off. Sawyer looked to the real Sawyer. He didn't look like a man he could trust. Sure enough, the real Sawyer made off with all their money. Sawyer knew that his dad was going to be pissed.
That night, when his father came home, his mother told him to hide. Sawyer did as he was told and ran to a bedroom, hiding under the bed. Here, he was safe. No one could find him. Downstairs, he heard his parents fighting, and then a gun shot. Sawyer whimpered and curled into himself, scared. He didn't know what was going on, and he was to frightened to move. A few moments later, his father came in, and then there was another gun shot. This time, his father's body hit the ground.
Sawyer stepped out of his tent to try and push that memory/dream out of his mind. He found one of his books and picked it up. Maybe reading would help him get rid of what was in his mind. Opening his book up and squinting his eyes from the sun, Sawyer began to read.
He was eight years old and there was this man named Sawyer that worked his way into his mother's life. He didn't like the man, but didn't bother to tell his mother, because she would just wave him off. Sawyer looked to the real Sawyer. He didn't look like a man he could trust. Sure enough, the real Sawyer made off with all their money. Sawyer knew that his dad was going to be pissed.
That night, when his father came home, his mother told him to hide. Sawyer did as he was told and ran to a bedroom, hiding under the bed. Here, he was safe. No one could find him. Downstairs, he heard his parents fighting, and then a gun shot. Sawyer whimpered and curled into himself, scared. He didn't know what was going on, and he was to frightened to move. A few moments later, his father came in, and then there was another gun shot. This time, his father's body hit the ground.
Sawyer stepped out of his tent to try and push that memory/dream out of his mind. He found one of his books and picked it up. Maybe reading would help him get rid of what was in his mind. Opening his book up and squinting his eyes from the sun, Sawyer began to read.