The little boy’s hand shook as he pressed a bottle against his chapped lips, sucking down the few remaining drops of water. His tongue circled the rim of the bottle, desperate to find more but there was nothing left.
Kyi rubbed his bloodied face across his sleeve, leaving a trail of crimson behind. Wincing in pain, he continued rubbing his eye, hoping to see the hooded girl more clearly. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain, the gushing gash above his eyebrow kept his vision clouded with a steady flow of blood. “If not Astrans, then who?”
Kyi dug his nails into the remains of the wooden amphitheater, dragging his body from beneath the rubble. Pain inched up his spine, blood tainting his vision as he scanned the area for his manager.
Fading in and out of consciousness, he could see the blood. Thick, deep red, coating his hands and knees as he begged his father to wake up. Gun shots continued to ring out, echoing the scenes of murder. The murder of his father and the otherworldly visitor.
Mark’s grip around her shirt tightened, sending wrinkles down the fabric around his fist. Raising his clenched hand high into the air, Kyi knew what would happen next. Mid-punch, Mark’s arm collided with Kyi’s, Kyi instinctively blocking him, preventing him from hitting the alien girl.
Recently I joined this group on twitter called The Insecure Writer's Support Group or IWSG for short. Their main purpose is to connect writers and help them share their writing and encourage one another. Each month there's a new question they require writers to answer in a blog post. Then they encourage us to look at each other's blogs and see how they answered the question.