I thought I'd post my Original Writing Coursework for you to read. The limit was just over 1000 words so, yes it isn't two pages long in MS word/other generic word processor. It's actually just under 1000 words long, but I got told it was good by someone in my class.
btw, it has nothing to do with Atheism, I was listening to the song by Muse, of the same name, and it fit so that was its title.
The Thoughts of a Dying Atheist
He slumped against the palace doors, blood pouring from a fresh wound on his stomach.
Yuri hadn’t counted on this eventuality, he had always envisioned his end in a magnificent king sized, mahogany bed surrounded by friends, family and well wishers all recounting how much they adored him and saying how ‘the good die young’ even though he would be at the ripe old age of eighty five. Never would he have imagined himself leaning against the doors of the Kremlin with a bullet buried in his gut.
Yuri gathered all of his strength and pushed his way through the doors of the palace expecting to see countless passers by ready to help a man in need, but when he charged out the sky was an inky black and Red Square was bathed in a blanket of night. All concept of time had eluded him during the stay in his attacker’s underground bunker. The Russian national sighed, and then cringed as a shot of pain struck his wound, each breath was laborious and the simple act of breathing brought pain equal to that when he was shot in the first place.
Most other people would have been screaming by now, but not Yuri Karkov, he was used to pain. Eighteen months in a Vietnamese prisoner of war camp will do that to a person, enduring torture for information about the American attack, Yuri remained vigil throughout this, and he wouldn’t betray the trust of his adoptive nation. America was nice enough to allow entry to a Russian ex-army officer turned homeless person in exchange for a little work. The date was November second, nineteen seventy and Yuri was drafted straight into the army and shipped off to Vietnam, his comrades were suspicious and his superiors harsh, it was a bad time for him but he persevered, for the nation that was willing to help a man in need. A situation in which he was now.
Footfall after footfall, pain on each step, Yuri struggled to a set of stairs and sat down, resting his legs and his wound. He had much experience with stair cases such as these, after the war he had nothing, the nation that had so lovingly allowed him entry was now blissfully sitting unaware of his presence, shafted from area to area not allowed to settle down, Yuri had no choice but to become a vagrant, a dirty nomad who no one trusted due to his Russian accent and no matter how he tried to persuade people that he wasn’t a communist, they still ignored his pleas for help. And then they picked him up, they propositioned him with promises of riches for a few titbits of information, information that only he could get. How could he refuse? They had money and he needed it, whatever the task Yuri would do it. He had killed before; he had no problem with that. They told him to join the Russian Army, it would seem it was the destiny of Yuri Karkov to serve in the military, to take orders blindly and never question anything.
It would seem the American government had suspected the Russian president of planning the destruction of America, how they knew this, Yuri didn’t ask, he accepted it and continued listening. He would attempt to get as close to the president as possible, access his personal computer and take any information he could lay his grubby hands on, whatever it was they would pay him cash. And one day in the underground bunker in which the notoriously paranoid president had holed himself up in, his lucky stars must have been shining; he overheard the president and a top scientist discussing nuclear missiles. ‘Pay dirt’ he thought grinning. He rushed back to his bunk and located the communicator the American government had provided him with. ‘No Signal Located’ it read, the device’s green flashing text almost mocking him with its ineptitude.
Yuri stood, noticing a light in the near distance, his vision was blurred and he couldn’t quite make out what it was, it was then Yuri began to think about why he had got himself in this mess. He had no way of communicating to the outside world, no info no money. Yuri had to get out, and it was said there are only two ways out of the bunker, in a body bag or with the permission of the president himself. ‘Fat chance’ he thought, as bad as it sounded, he chanced the former option. He shouted his information in the mess hall, knowing that the information is something that the army would want to keep a secret, knowing that they would escort him outside, knowing they would eradicate him. For possibly the only time in his life, Yuri Karkov chose the truly altruistic path, the sacrifice of his own life for the protection of the nation that had allowed him entry only to kick him when he was down.
The light was clearer now, it was red… and white, and it was square. It came into full focus and Yuri laughed. A cola machine, he laughed at the American institution that was the Coca Cola Company, a soda machine in the middle of Red Square, Yuri now knew he was dead.
“So this is how the life of Yuri Karkov comes to an end!” He shouted to no one in particular, and it was with great relief, the Russian national dropped to his knees, clutching the wound now issuing forth more and more life giving fluid. His vision started to fade and his tired arms fell limp at his side, the gentle murmur of insects and distant cars went suddenly silent as the last breath escaped Yuri’s mouth. His body swayed, then fell forwards.