Question

Hellp me plz help me to write something either a short story or a description plz help me out if I don’t do this hk I’m going to get in a lot of trouble

Answer 1

     Slate pressed his forehead against the cold, unyielding glass and gazed outward, looking at nothing. There was nothing to see. The bus trundled and coughed its way along the road, which was nothing more than a straight black line strewn across the white expanse before narrowing into a single point. Cracks in the parched earth rushed by in a mind numbing blur. The sky was obscured by a dingy sepia haze that were forced into a partial recession by the rays of the dying sun. Needles of light streaked outward and beat down on anything within reach, fighting a losing battle to reclaim space in the sky. Slate, being caught in the midst of the sun's accusatory glare, was forced to squint. He did not however, try to look away. He would have rather faced the angry snarl of four million kilometers of condensed plasma than that of the creature in the bus with him. The only other living thing within two hundred miles besides the guard cradling a rifle in his lap and the woman driving the bus. The boy didn't even have to turn to feel that caustic look perforating the back of his skull. There, in the back seat sat Julia, the senator's daughter. Her hands were folded delicately across her lap, possessing a delicate quality that would draw envy from any china doll. Golden curls flowed like water from the top of her head and tickled her waistline. Two frigid hazel eyes stared out from underneath the curtain of hair, seeming to be weighed down by a thick layer of make up. Slate imagined what he would find if he could peel back her perfect face. If he wasn't cuffed to the wall of the bus and wrenched away a few layers of skin. Her lips were drawn into a tight scowl that twisted her beautiful face into something very unpleasant. The immaculate white dress she wore was spotless, yet Slate had never seen anyone so filthy.

Answer 2

Ill do it one second


They told him the house was haunted. They told him the house was 
strange. Five families had moved in, and never made it out. Alive 
anyway. He had already survived two days with his family. His second 
night in his new home, what could possibly happen? 

A whispered name. 

The boy stirs in his sleep. A pale, vaporous moon lights the room. 
Shadows are deep. He twists his head, turning towards the window so 
that his face becomes a soft mask, unblemished, colourless. But the 
boy’s dream is troubled; beneath his lids, his eyes dart to and fro. 

The whispered name: 

‘Daniel….’ 

Its sound is distant. 

The boy frowns; yet the voice is within his own slumber, a silky 
calling inside his dream. His arm loosens from dampened bedclothes, 
his lips part in a silent murmur. His floating thoughts are being 
drawn towards consciousness. The protest trapped in his throat like a 
form, emerges as he wakens. And he wonders if he has imagined his own 
cry as he stares through the glass at the insipid moon. 

There is, in his heart, a dragging sorrow that seems to coagulate the 
blood, so that movement in the veins is slothful and wearisome. 
Somehow, making all effort to exit a ponderous, perhaps even hopeless 
affair. But the whispering, almost sibilant, voice dispels much of 
that inner lassitude. 

‘…Daniel…’ it calls again. 

And he knows its source, and that knowledge causes him to shudder.