Literature
'Brother?'
I was still shaking when the rhythmic, horrid screaming of bullets subsided. I was curled up, tight with fear. My clothes were wet from perspiration and my muscles sore from anxiety. The moment of silence was piercing, eerie, and disturbingly worse than the sound itself. You could all but wonder, "what had made it stop?" Were they looking for me? They must be coming up the stairs, heading straight for my room! They must be! Or could they have left? The whole while I was hoping dearly for the latter. It takes only a matter of seconds to sort out all the possibilities and debate with yourself about the logic of each one. For good measure I will