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The main difference between the cynical news broadcasts and fiction anymore is that, in fiction, there's always someone fighting to change the world for the better. Whether it's a global situation or something personal, fiction can be relied on for providing the character we all wish we could be. Sometimes when we watch the news, it seems like the world is on fire. In fiction, someone tries to put it out. However, on rare occasion, a report breaks through about someone who is indeed the exact type or protagonist we dream of being or creating.  With all the bad news these days - stories of robberies, murder, fire, and criminals - it's hard to be optimistic. Since very few news stories portray the notion of all people are good at heart, I decided it was time to push a story about a hero we'd only find in well-written fiction. In Santa Ana, California, a local witnessed a hit-and-run, something most people shy away from these days. Often, I hear stories of people witnessing a shooting, only to pretend like nothing happened. Or worse, there are people who come across an illegal situation and decide it's best to walk away. Beatriz Jimenez, however, was not one of those people. Unlike those who know what is right but don't want to risk their own lives, she saw a hit-and-run and decided to do the only thing she could - the right thing - chase after the driver. Although the story is not one of happiness, it does remind us that we need to model ourselves after those whom we admire. You Might Also Enjoy:
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AboutFear, focus, and the future. C.M. Humphries talks about writing, horror, and whatever. Archives
October 2018
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Her sharp nails clench my wrist and pull me closer, until I can see my reflection. From my forehead to the bridge of my nose, my flesh melts away, developing into a dark abyss much like her own.
Akin to a knife in my chest, a stabbing pain flares my lungs with each rapid breath. I spring upright in my bed at the sound of a loud rapping. My heartbeat echoes around the room; the sound is thumping in my eardrums, as if it derives from my head.
Akin to a knife in my chest, a stabbing pain flares my lungs with each rapid breath. I spring upright in my bed at the sound of a loud rapping. My heartbeat echoes around the room; the sound is thumping in my eardrums, as if it derives from my head.
Deep breaths through my nostrils, deep into my lungs, and out of my mouth, I focus in on silencing my erratic sounds. My heartbeat becomes nothing more than an unfamiliar drum in the background. I hear the knocking again.
READ MORE: "Facade"
