This is a short story I wrote in primary seven. I would have been around ten or eleven years old at the time. For whatever reason despite being a piece of creative (if you could call it that) writing, it was written in the functional writing book – normally reserved for nonfiction essays, letter writing etc. Sadly, I have been unable to recover the creative writing booklet, which would have certainly been filled with scrawled hilarity/stupidity.
The story seems to eschew or at least make very poor use of the traditional three act structure (despite the beginning, middle and end found in the planning section), as well as any semblance of character building, dialogue or setting. The story is told in the first person, and miraculously manages to remain in the correct tense throughout. There is a slight hint of a likely unintentional use of the unreliable narrator device. There are absolutely no comments or markings on the story, save for a single sticker asserting the works “SUPER” status.
An unusual spelling of the surname ‘Johnston’ is used, presumably because I’m dyslexic or possibly because I thought that was the correct spelling. The number of run on sentences and the gratuitous use of exclamation marks upsets me even now.
Efforts have been made to preserve errors of spelling, grammar and presentation for historical veracity/humour.
When 11:30pm 10 September 2003
Where Mansion on island is bermuda triangle
Who Robert Jhonston superstitious agent of the FBI. Plane Pilot, zombies, Mr. Ms Marley.
Beginning: Robert Johnston has nearly arrived at the Marlys Mansion in the Bermuda triangle. The owners left the mansion when they started hearing moaning noises in the night and their 14 year old son went missing.
Middle: The plane crashes. Robert enters the Mansion, walks along narrow hallway zombies hands burst through windows.
End: Robert runs through back garden, finds a plane and escapes from the island and reports his story, no one believes him.
The Marleys Mansion
Here I am, in the middle of nowhere, and by nowhere I mean the bermuda triangle. Oh why did they make me go at night? Why did they make me go atall?!
I’m Robert Jhonston and I work for the FBI. I’ve been told to goto a Mansion in the Bermuda triangle, it’s owners (the Marleys) have left because they heard strange moaning noises in the night, then their 14 year old son went missing, so they go to the FBI and they choose me! Out of all the people in the FBI they choose me! To go to some creepy Mansion in one of the worlds most mysterious places!
I took my lucky necklace with me, it was a round necklace with a circular crystal in the middle and a sharp piece of metal hanging from the bottom. I also took an emergency flare and my magnum, you never know.
Suddenly there was a deafening noise and the plane began shakeing uncontrollably. I looked out the window, lightning had hit one of the planes engines and we were going into a barrel roll. I quickly grabbed an emergency parachute opened the planes door and dived out of the plane just before its other engines exploded.
I floated safely down to the island, so far not so good I thought.
Suddenly without warning a piece of flying shrapnel hit my parachute and I fell. My parachute caught on to a tree, ripped and I fell into a bush.
I climbed out of what might have been my leafy grave, at least I had one thing to be thankful for. I checked to make sure that nothing was broken, suddenly I heard barking. When I turned around I saw a dog with huge teeth dripping with blood coming straight at me. I turned around and sprinted towards the Mansion. I opened the door slammed it shut and locked it with a key that was lying on a small table beside me. My heart was pounding, I could still hear the dog trying to get in. I was in a huge room, Like a gothic cathedral. I walked across the room and went through a small door. There was a narrower hallway with massive windows on each side. As I walked I heard strange noises.
Suddenly a pair of hands burst through the window and grabbed my throat. I quickly took out my Magnum and blasted whatever was attached to those hands. I sprinted up the hallway then then turned round and saw hoards of zombies coming through the windows. I sprinted through the door into another huge room. I backed up to a marble pillar paralyzed with fear. The room was becoming filled with grusome mangled zombies.
They were getting closer and closer until I realized I was getting outnumbered but not out gunned, so then I started fireing at them, BLAM!BLAM!BLAM! With each shot another zombie was blown to the other side of the room. BLAM! BLAM! CLICK?
“OH NO!” I cried. I had only brung six bullets. I then took out my emergency flare and lit it with a match I had stuck on it. I held them off for around ten seconds. I glanced at my emergency Flare it was nearly out, but to my horror and my delight I saw the stick in my hand was not a Flare but dynamite.
I threw the dynamite spun around on my heels and ran to the window behind me and dived through it. And as I did I heard the deafening BOOOOM!
I landed smack on my face in the wet, slushy grass. But as I got up I heard that familiar barking and moaning noises. I didn’t wait to see what it was, I just started running at full speed, and in the distance I spotted a plane. The moaning and barking was getting closer. I jumped over a body lying on the ground and reached the plane, the door was locked so I picked it with the sharp point on my necklace. I slammed the door shut started the engine and made my escape.
And guess what, when I told the FBI what happned on that island, they didn’t believe a word and I ended up in an insane asilum for two months.
- Everything is either huge or massive in this story.
- I appear to be slowly grasping the proper use of commas versus periods as the story goes on.
- All great works of fiction take place on an island in the Bermuda triangle.
- It seems there are in fact islands in and around the triangle, but the area is considered to be in International waters, so I’m unsure what purview if any the FBI possesses here.
- What exactly is my understanding of what the FBI is or how it operates?
- Why is special agent Jhonstone superstitious?
- Abandoning your home because of suspicious noises.
- This story appears to be all action, no build and no real climax.
- Good use of onomatopoeia.
- Boom goes the dynamite, now who expected that?
- Only bringing six bullets is both the stupidest and most believable part of this whole story.
- Never mind superstitious, agent Jhonstone is dangerously incompetent in every conceivable way.
- I like to assume agent Jhonstone misspelled his own name on paperwork at some point and is now stuck with it.
- I’m as surprised as you are that the necklace actually came around again.
- By far my favourite part is being sectioned in an insane asylum for two months as if that’s some kind of acceptable reprimand.
- I think we can all just pretend the story is written from the perspective of a psycopath with the mental age of 11 in some one flew over the cuckoos nest facility somewhere, because that’s much better.