Writers debate

Every squeeze of his veins for blood pulsed through his skull. His ears popped from all of the pressure; his hands were pale with fright. The old man's eyes twinkled as he laughed. "Come on, boy!" he taunted, smiling wildly. "Come on, soldier, this is the trenches! Do you know how many Charlies lost their lives chasing me towards a gun?" His body was trembling with excitement. Dennis gulped. This old man before him had slaughtered countless people. The war had never left his tortured mind. Dennis's nerves started to burn. This was the man who had hurt his best friend, who had torn off bits of skin from a helpless woman, who had probably done much more horrific and vile things in his disgusting existence. And now, he was going to take Dennis's life. The old man stumbled slightly, his eyes blanking and his breath catching. He touched his bleeding severed stub that was once a finger. Dennis felt a relief spread through his body. The loss of blood was getting to him. "Boy..." the old man tried, setting his hand to his forehead. He seemed uncontrollably tired. "Boy..." The old man settled his body against the lone pillar in the basement. Dennis took his chance. Pushing off his heel, Dennis harnessed any strength he had left and bolted for the gun. The cool metal of the tool pressed against his palm as he swiftly picked it up off of the grimy basement floor. The old man was bewildered, but his strength was being tested by his physical injury. Dennis ran for the stairs. He wasn't going to shoot the man. No, he still wasn't ready to stoop to that level. He did need to get the hell out of here, though. Dennis bit his lip hard and made his way back up the stairs. Each step sent a shooting pain through his body. He hoped he had enough strength to make it out alive. At the top of the staircase he realized the condition of the door: locked, locked, locked. Lifting the gun to the door knob, he squeezed the trigger. The sound and vibration of the gun threw him back. Catching himself on the railing of the staircase, Dennis used strength he wished he hadn't on saving himself from collapsing onto the stairs. He heard the old man roar, and then heavy steps against the bottom of the staircase. Dennis focused. Kicking open the door, he ran into the hall, the old man at his heels. Running into the hallway, Dennis felt the old man's fingertips brush up against his back. He almost grasped the material of Dennis's hoodie. The boy felt tears well up against his eyelids. The running was sending a pain so severe up his legs that he felt just about ready to just turn around and shoot. The air left Dennis's lungs abruptly. The old man had grabbed his hoodie. Without so much as a thought, Dennis quickly tugged his hoodie off before the old man could pull it properly. The angle at which the old man's body was turned canceled out any run for the living room that the boy could make, but the old man had forgotten one thing... the upstairs. With a growl, the veteran cursed the boy, but Dennis had already made his way up the next stair case to the second floor. As the stair case came to an end, Dennis realized he was far more trapped than before. He panicked, looking left, then looking right. "I've got you, boy!" the old man screamed, the stair case behind Dennis thundering with heavy boots pounding against the old wood. Pick one, pick one, Dennis thought, and turned right out of habit. He was going to die... He was going to die because he wasn't willing to shoot. "Boy, I'm going to carve your heart out and devour it!" Dennis felt all of the blood drain out of his body. He had no strength left... he was hobbling, and now he was stuck in the old man's bedroom. And old, soggy mattress was pushed up against a wall, and a lamp glowed a dim yellow light in the opposite corner. Dennis heard himself whimper. This was it... he was going to die... he had no strength left in his body. The old man threw his body past the open doorway. With a soft snicker, he circled around Dennis. "I know you're not going to shoot, little girl," he mocked, as Dennis circled as well. They kept a couple of feet between them, but Dennis knew the man could grasp him within a second or two. "Come on, drop the gun and just let me have my way with you," the man laughed; his yellow teeth grimacing as his blood trickled onto the wooden floor. Dennis rose the gun. "Oh my, the girl has balls!" The old man roared with laughter. Dennis's hands were shaking. He had to aim true. He closed one eye, taking his time. "Are you going to shoot me? You shoot me and I'll just keep coming. You shoot me and I'll make your death so gruesome!" Dennis held his breath. This was it. This was his only chance. If this shot didn't make it, he might as well turn the gun on himself. "BOY!" the old man screamed, and Dennis squeezed the trigger. The shattering of glass was accompanied by the old man's body hitting the ground. Dennis took the very last shred of his strength, and he ran. He ran right past the old man's body as the veteran tried grasping for his heels. His attempts failed, and Dennis jumped out of the window he had shot for. Victoria gasped as Dennis bounded out of the shattered window. His arms and legs flailed in the dim sunlight as he plummeted towards the hard ground. His body crumbled as he hit the dirt on his side, police and medics made a break for him. Victoria was there before them. "Dennis! Denny, please," she skid next to him onto her knees, holding his head up as his fingers uncurled; letting the gun drop to the ground. "Victoria..." he smiled, looking up at her with exhaustion in his eyes. She brushed back his hair with her fingers as the medics checked out his injured body. "Dennis, you made it," she sighed with relief, kissing his forehead. The police stormed the house as the medics tended to the fallen Dennis. The old man could be heard screaming and cursing out the broken window. He would be taken away soon enough, and all of the horrors that the house had witnessed would come to an end. Who knew how many bodies they would find in his basement... the thought sent a chill through Victoria's spine... "Victoria," Dennis coughed as the medic bandaged up his broken arm; the fall had snapped the bone in two, but Dennis's debilitation had ceased any recognition of pain from his mind. She nodded, ready to hear anything he had to say. "Did we win the bet?" he joked, relief of their safety overwhelming him. Victoria laughed, holding his hand tightly as everything around them seemed to situate itself again. Nothing would ever be exactly the same, no, but this experience had shown them the lengths of their friendship. "I don't think anyone at school will ever look at us the same again..." ______________________________ The End. Problem solved: Dennis is locked in the house, injured, and stuck with a crazed man who is ready to grab a gun and kill him. This was a lot of fun, Phil! I hope the readers enjoy our story : ) It was a blast writing with you. Regards, Vi