ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
Well, I'm a 12 yr old but I really love writing. Pls comment my writing as I'm learning. [May 2004]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (4) At Death's Door (Short Stories) - [441 words] [Drama] Face-Off (Short Stories) A Counter-terrorist unit agent on the chase after a terrorist...except that he gets the shock of his life. [2,002 words] [Suspense] Strangers In The Mist (Short Stories) A thrilling piece. Hope somebody could review it. [1,667 words] [Thriller] The Present (Children) A girl adventure in buying her mom present. [678 words]
The Escape Nur Syafiqah A Jaaffar
Orestes Ruiz stared out into the night. Nearly two months had passed. Two months of doing nothing except being locked up in jail. He wondered if his family still remembered him. Maybe they had disowned him. Orestes turned back and made his way to his bed. Even if his family ostracized him, he did not care. He had never love them, anyway.
“Hey Ruiz,” a gruff voice interrupted his train of thoughts, “you’re looking so despondent lately. I have a deal that’s sure to cheer you up.”
Orestes looked up to see a man standing by his bed. In the wan light of a cloud-shrouded moon, he could make out his bearlike figure. He knew who it was; Mikael Britva, his fellow inmate.
“What deal?” Orestes demanded. “I’ll be staying here until I die.”
The man chuckled derisively as he sat down beside his inmate. Orestes seemed disturbed by his preserve, but he did not utter a single word of protest. Instead, Orestes merely edged away from him.
“I’m running away from this hell tonight,” Britva started, “I have friends out there who have carefully planned my escape. If you want, I’ll help you get out of this place too. On one condition, of course. You have to work with the Mob.”
Orestes was silent as he turned Britva’s offer over in his mind. He knew that the choice was his to make. Escaping from a high security prison sounded ridiculous, almost illogical. On the other hand, he would be mentally deranged if he was to stay in this cell all his life. At least if he managed to escape, he would be able to work, albeit with the Mob.
“Count me in,” Orestes confirmed, “I’m willing to do anything, as long as I get out of this jail.”
Britva smirked, patting his inmate’s back. Obviously, Orestes was truly gullible. How could he simply believe that the Mob will take him in? Britva thought contemptuously.
Hours ticked by. The time finally arrived. The guards on duty that night were incompetent; they took the metal gates separating them from the prisoners for granted. They believed that no prisoners would be able to escape with the high-tech security systems marking their every move.
Britva leaned back against the cool concrete wall. He eyed the guards craftily. Any time soon, he reminded himself. Any time soon he could declare his freedom. He glanced at Orestes. That inmate of his was a criminal mastermind; by the age of twenty-four he had orchestrated three major bank heists and had hacked into numerous Swiss bank accounts. Britva wondered what had happened to all of Orestes’s billions in his bank account. Probably distributed to various charity organisations.
The lights started to flicker, and the security alarm went off. The guards were immediately alerted by the alarm. At the same time, Britva pulled out a long, tapered wooden stick from under his bed. Then he scrunched up his face to be a mask of excruciating pain. He cried out to the nearest guard. The guard furrowed his brows and hurried towards Britva, trying to contemplate what caused the huge Russian to be in pain.
The alarm flashed red. As if according to Britva’s wish, the whole prison was suddenly enveloped in total darkness. Britva could sense the panic that was rising among the guards. He used the opportunity to hit the guard in the groin using the stick. The blow was too much for the guard. He collapsed to the floor and passed out. However, the other guards were already out of the room, busy strafting themselves with firearms.
Britva could not resist a grin as he retrieved the key from the unconscious guard’s pocket. He had evaded the police so many times. He was not going to fail now. In one swift motion, he slid the key into the keyhole and twisted it.
The gate swung open with a creak. Hearing that, all the prisoners rushed to their respective gates, screaming for the keys. Britva ignored them. He motioned to Orestes to quickly leave the area. As they reached the exit, the shoutings grew louder. Just before they stepped out, Britva tossed the key to the nearest cell. It was up to the other prisoners to decide how to free themselves.
Along the way, Britva and Orestes ran into two guards. However, they calmly overtook their opponents and donned the guards’ uniforms. They equipped themselves with some brutish AK-47. This made their escape route easier. They passed by other guards unnoticed. No one even realised that the duo had slipped out of the compound through a small gap in the fence.
They met up with Britva’s colleagues. As he was being introduced to them, orestes found it hard to believe that he had escaped from jail. His mind could not fathom why the security systems went haywire.
“This is Connor,” Britva ushered to a young man with alabaster skin, “He was the one who hacked into the security systems and controlled it. We’ve got him to thank.”
Britva’s two other colleagues were not that impressive. Both the African-American and latino were involved in typical street activities, namely drug trafficking and gangbanging.
“So, Britva told me that I have to repay him the favour,” Orestes told the men, “I have to work with you guys. Do you happen to agree with him?”
The mwn looked at each other before focusing on Britva, who was standing behind Orestes. Britva held their gaze and nodded.
“Sorry, Orestes,” Connor spoke up, breaking the silence, “in the Mob, criminal masterminds like you repay the favours by one way. That is, their life.”
Minutes later, Britva and his colleagues left the spot. Orestes laid on the soft earth, riddled with bullets in a pool of blood.
READER'S REVIEWS (1) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"It's a cool story. Advice would be to stay away from superfluous adverbs, and write as though there is another person in your head--a Devil's Advocate--constantly nagging you with challenges against plot, description, thoughts, etc. You display obvious talent, but a shiny polish of grammar would serve well. If you are truly an adolescent, I suggest putting this story away for a few years, while writing constantly in the meantime, then picking it up again and rereading it. I wager you'll enjoy reflecting upon your beginnings as a great writer." -- J.Rychwa.
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