AuthorsDen.com   Join (Free!) | Login  

     Popular! Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry
   Services MarketPlace (Free to post!)
Where Authors and Readers come together!

SIGNED BOOKS    AUTHORS    eBOOKS new!     BOOKS    STORIES    ARTICLES    POETRY    BLOGS    NEWS    EVENTS    VIDEOS    GOLD    SUCCESS    TESTIMONIALS

Featured Authors:  Mike Hartner, iTheodore Soderberg, iLisa DAnnolfo Levey, iellen george, iA. Bell, iTuchy (Carl) Palmieri, iAlan Greenhalgh, i

  Home > Horror > Stories
Popular: Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry     

David John Taylor

· Become a Fan
· Contact me
· Books
· Articles
· Poetry
· Stories
· Messages
· 55 Titles
· 17 Reviews
· Save to My Library
· Share with Friends!
·
Member Since: Before 2003

David John Taylor, click here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.




Featured Book
Visions of A Skylark Dressed in Black
by Aberjhani

“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, ..  
BookAds by Silver
Gold and Platinum Members


Featured Book
The Palomar Paradox: A SETI Mystery (iBook)
by Richard Rydon

‘The Palomar Paradox’ sees Luper back in an astronomical observatory searching for signs of extraterrestrial intelligence. He finds himself working with Leila, a young gi..  
BookAds by Silver
Gold and Platinum Members



   Recent stories by David John Taylor
· The Shaman's Spring Part IlI
· The Promise of Palavers
· Don't Worry About the Walking Wounded
· The Nathan Hale Brigade
· The Shaman's Spring Part Il
· The Shaman's Spring Part I
           >> View all 7


Share    Print  Save   Become a Fan


The Last Few Moments
By David John Taylor
Tuesday, March 23, 2004

Rated "PG" by the Author.

Share this with your friends on FaceBook

This is your own doing. It's all your fault. You have no one to blame but yourself.

“Pick up your feet, Steve!" the man bellowed at his son as the guards in the ‘Fritz’ Kevlar helmets threatened with black plastic rifles. “Help your brother!”

The eldest struggled to keep up with his father, who crushed the toddler daughter to his chest, dragging the youngest boy along by his hand.

"Move! Move!" the young men in uniforms screamed, menacing the chaotic crowd, stabbing with rifle butts as they herded the hundred plus people off the road. The uniforms howled and engines revved. The mob struggled to satisfy their tormentors.

A man in a business suit and helmet appeared on the edge of the crowd to the father’s right. He was speaking into a bullhorn, incomprehensible in all the noise.

“Where’s mommy?” the girl moaned.

“Sweetheart please!” father countered and tugged hard on the bawling boy at his side. They lurched over rough, newly turned soil.

“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT,” father made out the man with the bullhorn say in a slow monotonous voice. What was that accent?

“Here! Here!” the guards pointed to a spot ahead.

“THIS IS YOUR OWN DOING.”

A Boston accent. How could he use that, the father thought wildly as he came to a stop where the guards pointed. Think, think!

It was an open field, freshly plowed. The father looked in all directions, trying to see around the milling terrified crowd.

There were vehicles to the east and north, something mounted to the roofs of the Hummers.

“I’m cold,” his oldest wept. Father looked to the west and south. The plowed field stretched flat for an acre in either direction, and in the dim light of dawn, he could just see barbed wire fence at the edges of the field. He could make a break, drop the girl, run like Hell.

“YOU HAVE NO ONE TO BLAME BUT YOURSELF,” the bullhorn delivered in a slow drumbeat cadence. "THIS IS ALL YOUR OWN FAULT."

The father searched wildly around, looking for something, anything, any hope at all. He looked down at his two son's dirty faces, hesitated, then dropped to one knee and pulled his boys closer.

“Stand up!” a guard bellowed, but the men with the guns had all backed away toward the Hummers with the manned machine guns on the roof.

“I love you more than I have words!” The father bellowed at his two sons, hoping they heard over the cacophony. He put a hand over his daughter's eyes. “I wanted so much more for you!”

The machine guns began their prattle.  


Want to review or comment on this short story?
Click here to login!


Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!


Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 3/23/2004
heartwrenching story!