“Shadow of Wings” by Leslie Campos: Part 2

This month, we’re excited to share a thrilling short story, written by a Primavera student! 10th-grade student Leslie Campos is an aspiring novelist, with many other hobbies.

“I write on watt pad and I also enjoy designing clothes and drawing. I want to become either or both an EMT or/and author,” said Leslie.

The first chapter of her story will be split into four parts.  Check it out below!

If you haven’t read part 1 yet, you can read it here.

“Shadow of Wings” by Leslie Campos, Chapter 1, Part 2

Image submitted by Leslie Campos, 10th grade

I look down at my leg. It’s drenched in blood. I grab another bag and open it, then reach around and grab two small rags inside of it. There’s only enough time to wrap my bullet wound.

I tie the rag around my leg and press my lips together, keeping in a cry. I take the other rag, ball it up and put it in my mouth. This allows me to scream into the rag as I tie the wound. Tears start to pour out and my vision goes black. I take the rag in my mouth out and take in large gulps of breath. My vision comes in slowly light starting in the middle growing to the sides of my eyes.

I put the rag in my backpack and close it, then turn off the light and run out of the bunker. As soon as I close the door, the front of the building doors burst open.

My time is up and the only way out is where the soldiers are.

I look around and run over toward the side of the sewer walls. There are wooden boxes littering the walls, all with different symbols on them. I run behind a line of the boxes and place my back against the wall. I slow my breaths and look through the tiny gaps between the spaces.

There are ten soldiers pacing in front of the building. Slowly, I stand, taking my gun out of the side of my pants. Still hidden by boxes, I peek around the corner.

There are five more guards with guns. I breathe in and step around the boxes. I aim my gun and shoot at the back of the guard by the building. His red hair whips and falls with him. I slip the gun back into the holster and I take out the knife from the side of my belt, thrusting it at another guard’s hand.

The bullets ring out everywhere. I dodge them, hiding behind the boxes. I grab the top of the boxes and flip myself over them. I land on the ground with a thump and ignore the pain I feel growing in my leg.

I thrust two more knives into two other guards’ knees. They cry and drop to the ground. Another guard runs up to me tries to tackle me, but I take his hand and flip him over and hold his arm out. I kick my foot into his arm and it snaps. I take the gun out of my holster and fire onto the remaining ten guards.

They take shelter around the building. I start to run, shooting at the guards as I go. One guard charges at me, his fist pulled back ready to strike. His arm flies and I grab his fist, twist his hand, kick his thigh and jab my elbow into his face. I hear a crack and I know his nose is broken.

I kick him to the ground as another guard charges at me with a knife. He thrusts his knife and I jolt myself backward. I grab his wrist and twist it. He drops the knife and I kick him in the groin and punch his face. He wails but comes at me again.

I see two more guards coming closer to me. I have to act quickly, so I grab the guard’s shoulders and throw myself over his head. I do a handstand on his shoulders and twist my stomach around spread my legs to the side. They hit the two guards in the face and I see the life go out of them. They’re knocked out.

I drag the guard’s shoulders I’m on with me down and he slams his head against the concrete. I grab his gun and start to shoot as I run backward. They duck and hide for cover. Over my shoulder, I see the sun and turn and run. The outside of the sewers is covered in forest and dense trees for miles. It’s my only chance to escape.

I hear the gunshots still ringing as I sprint through the forest. I feel the wind wrap around me. My thigh screams, begging for me to slow down. But I sprint faster. The farther, I get the safer I am.

I take a left and dodge tree after tree. My lungs ache for air. Every inch of my body wants to stop, but I keep going. I start going straight again and hop over more roots. I push myself harder and faster. I slip past trees taking stumps two at a time. I keep moving faster and faster.

I don’t hear any more gunshots, but I don’t want to stop. I see a small hole in the ground. It looks like a small sinkhole, something a hunter might use. There has to be a way over it. I see a branch extended out from the tree and I jump up and grab it and flip myself over the hole, landing on my feet and I hear a snap. I stand straighter and draw my gun. I see a tall man. He looks about 23, only a 1 year older than me. He holds his hands above his head. He has big brown eyes like a deer they match his hair. He holds a muscular build. I slip my gun back in place. He steps out from the bush and I see he is unarmed. I think about how I must look to him. Blood soaking up a rag and my pants. He probably thinks I’m a killer. He`s not wrong, I think. I snap myself out my daze as he steps closer. I have to go again he could get killed if I stay here longer. I turn and break into a sprint.

I see a branch extended out from the tree and I jump up and grab it and flip myself over the hole. Landing on my feet, I hear a snap. I stand straighter and draw my gun. I see a tall man. He looks about 23, only a 1 year older than me. He holds his hands above his head. He has big brown eyes like a deer they match his hair. He holds a muscular build.

He steps out from the bush and I see he is unarmed. I slip my gun back in place.

I think about how I must look to him: blood soaking up a rag and my pants. He probably thinks I’m a killer.

“He’s not wrong,” I think.

I snap myself out my daze as he steps closer. I have to go again. He could get killed if I stay here longer. I turn and break into a sprint.

I hear a low voice hollering “Wait! Please wait!”

I roll my eyes and keep sprinting. I hear small twigs crack behind me. He is trying to follow me. I tuck my legs into my chest in one motion and roll under a lifted root. I think about my training. Quickness was the main lesson and the most important. If you weren’t fast, you would die. I clear the root and spring up and continue to run.

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Part three of Leslie’s story will be published soon, so stay tuned!

We want to hear from you!

Whether you enjoy writing or painting, we want to feature your work! Send your submission to [email protected] and include a few sentences about you and your artwork.

• Students, what do you think of Leslie’s story? Share your positive thoughts in the comments below!