The LiveWire Writing Contest -- LiveWire Teen Forums

Membername: HXC
Title of Piece: In With A Bullet
Type of Piece: Short Story
Piece:

Like every other day I've lived, when I woke up that Thursday morning I wasn't refreshed, like most people are. Sleep comes hard for me, call it insomnia, or stress, or whatever tickles your fancy, I'm just not very good at it. But that night, I really could have used a good night's rest.

I got ready for work and started to head towards the site, all the while trying to make sure my suit saved for later that night wouldn't get crinkled. The last thing I need is my brother thinking I don't care about what he does. Since our mom died two years ago we've been drifting apart. I do that when I feel uncomfortable. It's hard for me to continue relationships once something drastic in them has changed, it's always easier just to run.

But tonight it was his movie's big premiere "In With A Bullet". It was some really artsy film about the war in Iraq that he was really proud of. (So was his production company. They should be, they spent $120 Million on it.) And he invited me, and I had to go to avoid more conflict with him. Truthfully his work is very well received, critically, in the box office, and by me. I actually am excited to see this.
Once I got to the site, I was late, and it was obvious. The foreman was all over me. "Jason, it's about time you got here," he said, "get going there, kid." He was a nice guy, and didn't care much when I screwed up. I think it's cause he could relate to me, I'm not the most popular guy on the site, or in the world, for that matter, and neither is he.

"Sorry boss. I'll get on it." And I got started. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Day would be the key word in that sentence. The night was something else though.

I got in my truck and headed over to the theatre. "Welcome, Mr. Verando, you're brother will be very excited to see you made it. Please, let me take your truck for you," the valet worker insisted.
"No, I think I'll just park over here. I'm not really planning on staying for the after party, I'd prefer to just get in and out," I answered. "Thanks for the offer though."

I parked and stepped out of my car. I headed inside, were I was met with an onslaught of the richest and most beautiful people in Hollywood. I never saw my brother as the kind to hang out with these folks, but that might be another reason we're spreading apart.

***************************************************

The silencers slipped on to the guns. The group of men look at each other, not saying anything with their mouths but with their eyes. "You ready?" their eyes seemed to say. "Yes."

**************************************************
The movie had been playing for an hour when I had to go to the bathroom. I got up and wandered, until I found the it after a few minutes. It was while I was washing my hands I heard the first gun shots.

"Everybody get on the ground and no one else will get hurt!" the ski masked leader yelled. His Henchmen were already rounding everyone up. By the time I got out of the bathroom to see what was going on, it was too late. They had everyone surrounded. I ran back inside the bathroom and grabbed my cell, to find it's battery dead. I always seem to forget the most subtle things, such as charging my phone at night. As if in response to my action, "Everyone hand over your cell phones!" the leader of the attackers shouted. The actors, writers, and directors all cooperated. I had no other choice. Whatever these guys had in mind, I wasn't apart of it. I fled.

I went back to the parking lot, and first thing I was looking for was the valet kid. I found him dead behind his stand. Who ever these guys thought they were, they just got on my bad side. My first plan was to find my car and go get some sort of authorities. But once again, Lady Luck proved how much she hated me. I was on empty. I figured I might as well give it a shot. I pulled my car out and saw a shadow move. "Looks like the ski mask boys had thought this through, and left someone to make sure no one drove away," I thought.

"Pretty boy, I got something to make your skin squirm." The maniacal shadow screeched as he held the grenade ski high. I had no choice, I had to make a move. I grabbed the nearest thing to me in the car, a shovel from work earlier that day. As he moved closer to me, I rolled out the opposite door, lunged at him and hit him across the face, knocking him out cold. Once again, Lady Luck left me in the dust. Shadow had already pulled the pin.

**************************************************

"Oh my God! What was that explosion!"

"It was nothing, Mr. Andrew Verando. Please, don't worry. We'll be here for a short while, collect our money, and you can get back on with your premiere. I was loving the film so far, truly." whispered the ski mask's leader.
"You'll never get away with this, whatever your plan is," Jack Warren declared.
The gun shot rattled through the movie theatre. The leader killed Jack Warren before even looking at who he was. "Ah, that's unfortunate. I liked Jack Warren's films. He was a wonderful actor. But there is a reason I'm known as Cold Hard Killer. I'll kill you before I know why I'm doing it, and while we're on the subject, you shouldn't this take attack personally. It's all for the cash. That said, let's start talking business," he now yelled to the entire audience, "We will take you one by one, give you your cell phone back, and we will monitor your call. You are to tell whom ever is in charge of your finances to send all of your funds to this account," he yelled as he lifted up a piece of paper with the account number of a Swiss bank account on it, "you do that, all will be well. You try to contact authorities, and you'll be hanging out with Jack Warren. Everyone understand?"

*****************************************************
I got up off the floor and brushed myself off. I got away far enough to not be harmed by the blast. My car was blown up, everything I had in it was gone. I had no idea what to do. All I had was my shovel, and my tuxedo on my back, like some kind of fancy diggerman. I had to go back inside. There was no way I was going leaving my brother like this.
I went back in and start surveying. From the looks of it they had five men, two with handguns, and three with SMGs. There were three floors to the building, the canopy, the middle, and the ground. They had one sentry on the canopy, two on the middle floor over looking the hostages, and two on the floor with the hostages. I was on the middle. I snuck up on the two on the middle floor two guys with SMGs, and got a lucky break. "Dude, I've really got to go to the bathroom," one of the attackers said.
"Whatever, I got them under control," his friend replied, "go to the bathroom. Just, hurry back. I have to go too."
"Thanks."
Now I had an opportunity. I stalked the attacker on his way to the the bathroom and watched him slip inside. I'd been in fights before, but never one's with guns. No matter, though, I thought. Who wants to live life hiding in the corner? Not me. I gently opened the bathroom door.

"Hey, you have to go that bad man? I don't think boss would be happy if he saw us both off our post," he assumed. He didn't even look up at me from his member until I was headed toward him. I took my shovel and lifted it in the air, that caught his attention. He grabbed his gun, but it was too late. I brought my shovel down and smacked his gun out of his hand. And lifted it back up and slashed him across the face, the edge of the shovel slicing his neck and face a little. He was unconscious now, or maybe worse. I dragged him into a stall and left him there. Just as I was preparing to leave the bathroom, the other attacker on the middle floor walked in.

"Scotty, you all good in here? Boss says we're leaving soon, he's collected $400 million from the rich pri-" just then I lunged at him. I didn't have enough time to lift the shovel and bring it down on his head, so I jammed it through his stomach. The blood stained my tuxedo. He stood motionless, with my shovel through his midsection, like a foosball player. I slid my shovel out of him and looked at his gun. I'd never fired one before, so I wasn't too sure about my ability to aim. I figured I should take it just in case though. Next I moved to the canopy.

The attacker on the canopy was smoking a cigar, with his gun on the table next to him. "I thought you were supposed to smoke cigars after the mission is done," I asked. Puzzled, he turned around quickly and reached for his gun, however my shovel had knocked it aside. He punched me in the arm, forcing me to drop my shovel. He punched me again in the face, then once in the stomach, before I punched him in the jaw.

****************************************************
Cold Hard Killer dragged another body from the room designated for those to call their financiers. "Another one trying to call the cops," he informed, and added the new body with the group. He was up to 6 dead bodies now. He fired a few rounds in the air, just to scare the audience. They screamed. "Now, everyone stay calm," Cold Hard Killer began, "We're almost done here. Let me just drop a line to my boys." As he said that, however, a man dropped from the Canopy, hitting the ground on his back. He didn't get up. "Shit." Cold Hard Killer remarked.

***************************************************
That was a wrong turn by me. I shouldn't have tossed him off the edge, that'll scare the two left. They started to run out the building, firing a round whenever they got the chance. Not at anyone in particular, just to instill fear in the crowd. I made it down to the middle floor, and then jumped off the railing to the ground floor to see them running out the back door. Cold Hard Killer's right hand man was nearest, and he stopped and looked at me. Cold Hard Killer stood back, and watched. "Haha, it's just some actor who thinks he's an action hero, I'll kill him," the right hand man declared. I rushed him and swung my shovel.

"I'm no actor, I'm a construction worker," I informed as the edge of the blade made a nice line across the neck of the right hand man. He fell to the floor.
"Who the hell are you, with your shovel, and your tux. You some kind of, Fancy... Digger... Man?' Cold Hard Killer stumbled.

"I like the sound of it," I replied, but in the moment I wasn't even thinking, and Cold Hard Killer took a shot at me. The bullet hit me in the shoulder, and I dropped to the floor. Cold Hard Killer escaped.

Wait.

I can stand, I know I can, I thought. I got up and walked out the door Cold Hard Killer escaped through. I could see him running off. I thought about the gun I took from that guy in the bathroom, picked it up and fired the complete magazine at him. He continued to get smaller and smaller. Lady Luck really hated me tonight. All I wanted was to enjoy my brother's new film. But I can't let him walk away with this, he killed too many people. I limped closer. I had one chance left. I started spinning in circles, as to build up momentum, holding my shovel with two hands. The figure in the distance was getting smaller, I had to release it, then I did. The shovel I'd been spinning in circles with like a javelin. The shovel came down, and pierced him through the stomach. Cold Hard Killer fell to the floor. Lady Luck, I knew you loved me. Just then, my brother and a few others caught up with me. "Jason, that was amazing! You saved us!" Andrew remarked.

"Don't worry about it. I had nothing better to do." I replied as I lit a cigar I had taken from the guy from the canopy. I took a long drag, and walked off to the bathroom. I had to go.

-------
it's just you and I, everywhereeeee

Membername: jamesish
Title: Ishmael Beah: An Observance
Type: Research
Piece:

******************
The story of Ishmael Beah is a distressing one. While being a child soldier, he
encountered many heinous things. These things would include: Warfare, theft, and drug abuse. While the story of Beah may seem unique and out of the
ordinary to a person who does not know too much about the events of today's
world, Beah's story is truly just one in thousands. Many other child soldiers
have gone through what Beah has. The only main difference is Beah was alive
to be rehabilitated and to tell about his life. He even published his life in
a memoir titled, "A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier." The main circumstances that relate Beah to hundreds of thousands of others are the numerous amount of countries that use child soldiers and similar evidential testimony from other child soldiers.
Beah's story begins when a rebel army of his home country Sierra Leone attacked his home. This rebel army is known as the Revolutionary United Front (R.U.F.) He was then at the age of 12. He ran away and for months was running from the rebel army. He describes this time in his memoir as, "I ran away, along paths and roads that were littered with dead bodies, some mutilated in ways so horrible that looking at them left a permanent scar on my memory." While this occurred, he found out that his parents and two brothers had been killed. Then, he ran into the government army. This is when he started fighting for his country's army and got hooked on drugs and killing. While he was on drugs he witnessed many things. He states also in his memoir, "On one of these raids, we captures a few rebels after a long gunfight and a lot of civilian casualties...the corporal asked one of the prisoners...He spat in the corporal's face, and the corporal immediately shot him in the head at close range. He fell to the ground, and blood slowly leaked out of his head. We cheered in admiration of the corporal's action and saluted him as he walked by." Not only does this quote emphasize the brutal reality of what these children see and do, but how much they are manipulated and grow to accept these ways. After years of fighting, he rehabilitated in NYC and told his story.
The first instance that makes Beah's stories one of thousands is other countries have child soldiers, and for most, longer time periods. These countries include Colombia and Iraq. In Colombia, tens of thousands of child soldiers are being used. According to Human Rights Watch, child soldiers are used to "Collect intelligence, make and deploy mines, and serve as advance troops in ambush attacks against paramilitaries, soldiers, and police officers." ("Child Soldiers Used") In Iraq, children were used in the Gulf War and Iran-Iraq War. According to the Center for Defense Information, "Current Iraqi law allows voluntary recruits at age 15, and during war allows conscription of those younger than age 18. Currently, approximately 1,000 children are believed to be in the official Iraqi government armed forces." ("Children Used As") The article also reports, "For decades Iraq has developed several military training programs to prepare youths for war and militarize Iraqi society and culture. Both boys and girls participate in these military programs, some as young as 10. Some of the best known of these programs include: "Raad" and "Al Anfal," which have trained over 23,000 children, and "Saddam Cubs," military training camps for 8,000 Iraqi children. In these three-week programs for children aged 10 to 15, children are trained to rappel from helicopters, take part in hand-to-hand combat, infantry tactics, and small arms use." Hazel Rochman states, "Today there are an estimated 300,000 child soldiers around the globe."
With over 30 countries having child soldiers today, only two listed above, parallels must be present. The governments and rebel parties all used the same technique: Manipulate the children. Tim Stafford states, "Children are deliberately and systematically recruited as soldiers. Sometimes they are abducted, as with the Lord's Resistance Army in Uganda. In other cases, families or communities are pressured to contribute children to the cause; and in some cases children volunteer." ("A New Kind") Certain stories are surfacing and giving the public eye a view of the conflict affecting our planet's children. These stories give clear reference to the story of Beah, and not just to validate his story, but also to say these types of stories is not that uncommon.
The second instance that relates the story of Beah to other stories of child soldiers is evidence told by child soldiers who have rehabilitated from their country's war. One such story is of a boy named Adirisaq Khalid Ahmed. He was involved in the conflict in Somalia. While he was older than Beah when he joined fighting, at the age of 16, he still fought a brutal war. He was forced into fighting and was even shot and recovering from wounds when he told his story. Like Beah, he was lucky to make it out alive. On Human Rights Watch there are several short quotes that explain the brutal reality of what these child soldiers go through. These quotes relate to the forced killing Beah had to do. According to Human Rights Watch, one quote from a child soldier in Colombia says, "I had a friend, Juanita, who got into trouble for sleeping around. We had been friends in civilian life and we shared a tent together. The commander said that it didn't matter that she was my friend. She had committed an error and had to be killed. I closed my eyes and fired the gun, but I didn't hit her. So I shot again. The grave was right nearby. I had to bury her and put dirt on top of her." The commander said, "You did very well. Even though you started to cry, you did well. You'll have to do this again many more times, and you'll have to learn not to cry." Another quote from a child soldier from Burma states, "The section leader ordered us to take cover and open fire. There were seven of us, and seven or ten of the enemy. I was too afraid to look, so I put my face in the ground and shot my gun up at the sky. I was afraid their bullets would hit my head. I fired two magazines, about forty founds. I was afraid that if I didn't fire the section leader would punish me." ("The Voices") In the same article by Tim Stafford, Alcinda Honwana, a child soldier from Africa states, "After four months of training they put me to a test. They put a person before me and ordered me to shot him. I shot him. After the test they considered me good and they gave me a gun." Tim then goes into some statistical evidence that furthers the point that child soldiers all do pretty much the same thing. He talks about child soldiers in Angola when saying, "Seventy-seven percent had shot someone, 67 percent had lost family members or close friends to the war, 76 percent had seen people being killed, 29 percent had been wounded."
While the story of Ishmael Beah is not anything new, and just another tale in a book of tales, the lesson is clear. A world epidemic has been around for a while and nothing seems to be changing. Many child soldiers are not as lucky as Beah was by making it out alive, but while they were alive, they were doing the same things as Beah. It's the same process for every child soldier: Circumstances, fear, action.

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