Tristan Romani
Mr. Barazzoul
2018-02-28
Blk: D
“The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty” Narrative
Walter Mitty lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking….

He put his shoulders back and heels together. “To hell with the handkerchief,” said walter mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with a faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad. Looking death in the face. Suddenly a mans voice came through a radio behind the firing squad. He sounded angry and nervous, one of the higher-ranking firing squad members rushed over while the other firing squads turned their heads towards the man speaking on the radio. The rain and sleet hitting the cold hard ground made it impossible to make out what they were saying, just then five explosions happened simultaneously. The seven firing squad members looked confused and panicked. The high-ranking man using the radio started explaining something to the squad. They all split up running in separate directions leaving me alone. With the last courage I had, I bolted my way towards the nearby forest. Just as I was halfway there four tanks and three military trucks broke through the treeline. Speeding towards the camp I just came from, when one tank stopped right in front of me. One soldier got out and said something to me in what I presume to be Russian. Pointed a gun at me, and said a few final words.

Mister… Mister?… Said a little boy with a newspaper in-front of me. “would you like todays Waterbury Times, sir.” He said. No thank you. “ok” said the little boy while walking towards another man. “Walter Did you grab the wine like I asked” said Mrs. Mitty. “no, sorry” said Walter. Mrs. Mitty frustrately sighed “I have to do everything my self, huh?” “It appears so” said Walter. “Well, you could at least help me pick out a new dress, .” “Ok…” Walter said. As they walked over to the cloths Walter stopped to look at a trench coat and a bowler hat. When he heard a father and son arguing in the next isle. “Terry! Don’t forget we have multiple accounts of homicide, DUI’s and vandalism charges against you. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be on yourself. Just tell us where the girl is.” Said Walter “I told you, you would have to kill me to find out!” said terry “well, terry can you please tell me where you were on the night of the disappearance?” “I was out at the sandbar pub.” Terry said “Doing what?” “Smoking a john Mellan cigarettes and drinking jack Daniels whiskey. What do you think?” “Jack Daniels and John Mellan cigarettes, eh?” “yeah” terry said directly “well, it just so happens that we found jack Daniels Whiskey and John Mellan cigarettes at the girls house. Know anything about this?” “I….I… OK its true I was there, but if you ever want to see her again you must go to the edge of town and go into the basement of the blue house on the hill. You will find her there.” “Thank you for you time, your lawyer will be in, in a minute.” “As I started to drive to the edge of town I saw a small blue house, alone on the top of a hill, with hundreds of coreopsis in the front lawn. As I approached I was able to hear the faint cry of a girl coming from underneath the house. I cautiously approached the front door and knocked “Knock, knock, knock…” With no answer, and no time to lose I kicked down the door to be greeted by a putrid smell, which can only be described as fresh road kill. The whimpered cries became even louder once I reached the basement door. as I reached for the cold steal knob I heard a quiet derisive laugh from beyond the door. Without thought for my own safety, I slowly turned the knob.