A short story
It was a dark and raining night in the city. The alleys were empty, for the homeless took shelter elsewhere.
"That's good," thought a 16 year old teen that was heading there.
The teen's name was Ella smark, and she was a beatiful heavy girl with short black hair and bluish green eyes. Ella was wearing a coral lavender zipper up half top and dark violet skirt with a heavily drenched dark navy windbreaker coat. She was a very depressed teen with [what she believes] a very screwed up life that cannot be redeemed. On this night she planned to take her own life. How you ask? With her dad's family heirloom .38 revolver. She has never fired a gun before. But to her it seemed better than jumping off a bridge or through a window.
Ella pulled out the revolver and pulled back the hammer. She was very frightened but felt there was no alternative. She held the gun to her head. As she did, flashes of her life passed through her in milliseconds. Tears welled up