They took me. I don’t know why and I dont know where. But I can’t talk and I can’t see. they are keeping me hostage. from something, from someone. I’m not sure. I want to go home. I want to be with my family. Where am I?? Can I leave soon? What’s going to happen? Am I dying? I can’t breathe. Somebody help me! Please! Please help me! Its dark…
I want to go home…
Where am I?….
Somebody…anybody…help me.
………
Luci Love
whenever someone is taken hostage, another person is let go, so it all evens out in the end right? Wrong, because freedom isn’t free, that’s the american way! YAY!
M
Was he bound by promises or by his honest heart? Did it matter? My guess is not.
TheBess
capture, cage, death, destruction, no rights, prisioner, no freedom,
haley keller
there are always hostages being taken when there’s a war. Who’s the hostage in our war. I do not know. I more often feel like the police agent, the persecutoer the agressor. but sometimes you are too.
Misa
She’d been taken hostage and she was scared. Lying in the corner, no light coming in through her blindfold, not sure whether it was night or day, where she was, who was in the room with her. The concrete floor seemed to have grown harder and more uncomfortable over the hours. She didn’t know if anyone would come to rescue her in time. She could feel nothing but terror.
I looked down at her, not intending to obey my orders. “Sophie…I’m going to get you out of here.” I whispered. The desperate look in her eyes was my incentive.
“We’ve got a hostage situation,” Carson said into the old cellphone my parents gave him. It’s back was gaping open, and it was clear there was no battery.
I tapped his shoulder. “You do know that policemen don’t use ex-cellphones, right?”
He stood up from his concealed position behind a bush. “You do know they don’t hide behind bushes, right?”
Oh, seven-year-olds.
Madeleine
You hold my heart hostage, and I want it back. But you don’t even know what you have. We’re onp opposite sides of the world; you don’t know that I exist. How many hearts have you unwittingly stolen? I’m sure there are hundreds who have fallen under your spell.
I want to say I love you, but I haven’t even met you. So I suppose I simply lust you. But I don’t think it’s that simple– you make me feel so many things…
I am a hostage to my brain. My past keeps coming up and I can’t shake it. I had it filed away in a box in a corner of my heart, but it keeps escaping.
Chic-pea
i was held hostage in mexico. they wanted to take off my clothes and touch my parts. i told them no, and spit in their faces. they beat me with spiked clubs.
Kristen
Wow, hostages. Being a hostage is bad. Although you do get to do Stockholm syndrome after a while, which means that you get to extend your circle of friends with some really interesting people…
Thomas
Taking Suzie the mouse hostage, Mr. Whiskers cackled maniacally and batted her around like a furry basketball. The other mice in the wall tittered about, and finally called in the SWAT team for assistance. Mrs. Treehugger rushed in toward Mr. Whiskers with a broom poised over her head, and … SWAT! Suzie was free once again to pee under the armoire.
Sometimes I want to crush his little face. I’d like it to be smeared under foot, my foot, all across the pavement. And with the bits of his smiling muscles trailing behind, I would walk into the nearest bodega and buy a Pepsi, taking in this glorious fucking moment to appreciate what I’ve done for myself.
Ahhh!!! I’ve been held hostage at a bratwurst stand because hostage makes me thing of bratwurst!!! Pafooy… I kick your weenies :) ohuebjk,
Eliza
take me as your prisoner, put a knife to my throat. kill me, it’s okay, no one will miss me anyway. do you like how you hurt me? do you?
hell.
Deborah Jean
I couldn’t breathe; couldn’t think.
The one word left me alone in the world.
Hostage.
The men kept on repeating the word to everyone: “You are all hostages! You can’t move — or we’ll shoot!” Which was emphasized with a hefty shake of their heavy-duty guns in the air.
“Freeze!”
As I turned around, I felt a gun firmly poking at my back. Fear took a hold at me from then on. I couldn’t breathe; couldn’t think…
Mariah
leave
me
be.
thegirlyoullneverknow
I sit here in the dark, hands bound behind me. I can hear him talking on the phone, catching some words here and there, money, how much, come here, you, alone. I refuse to tremble or cry, but my legs are shaking and it’s a good thing they’ve thrown me down because I wouldn’t be able to stand.
Alice
Her hands were bound behind her and her mouth was covered in duct tape. Muffled screams rang through the room, and all the man in the corner did was flick his knife out and chuckle.
“Game over.”
A hostage of cottage cheese. That’s how my mother described herself, even after things got serious. Her bones were breaking down under her, like a house foundation crumbling, but she was just a hostage of cottage cheese, her head posing in a corny tourist stockade, pretending she was just doing it for the photo.
Al
I’m a hostage inside my own head. I can’t pull away from myself and I have nowhere to run to. Where am I going? a blindfold folds me in darkness. I don’t know who i am anymore.
The back of the wagon creaked. But it was not from rusty wheels, but weight. For concealed under the canvas top were 21 captives, bound, gagged, and unconscious. All were in their teens, and if they were alert at the time, an observer would find that every single one’s eyes were of a pale, clear blue.
ArcticDragon14
The note was made up of letters cut out of newspaper headlines. It was stark, and it meant business. “I’ve taken your candy bar hostage. I am willing to negotiate for its release but only if you promise to stop eating my all potato chips and buy me a new bag of Ruffles. Stay by your phone. You will be called with the details of the exchange.”
Izolda
she was held captive not by any human but by an emotion. it was an emotion so powerful that she could not control herself. it was not fear that held her captive but love.
Samantha Harris
The crowd’s hushed voices were overwhelmed by the masked man’s rants and ravings at the bank attendants for cash. Children cried as everyone crouched on the ground, praying for safety. And to think, all I needed to do was use the ATM.
Sometimes I feel like my emotions hold me hostage. Like everyone else can be all calm and collected. And I have to worry about crying in public.
Alyson
trapped.
a word that has many different perspectives.
a subjective term.
this was not how I felt,
I was caught.
I was bounded.
I could not move for my life was in danger
my life, and my loved ones.
I was a hostage.
i am being held hostage by my own mind, by my own concept of myself as the unlovable. i have a chance right now to be with someone i so admire…but my doubts are so great that i don’t know that i can just be and love and love and love….
kathi
The hostage lives inside a tiny blue button named after the rhinos that live inside of your feet. I am QUEEN OF THE NOSTRILS. EVERYTHING BELONGS TO MY PANTS. YES PANTS, AHAHAHAHAH PANTS I LOVE PANTS DO YOU LOVE PANTS? WELL TOO BAD. NO PANTS FOR YOU I’M HOLDING THEM HOSTAGE.
Frank
once i made a hostage and it was grnad except that the fact it was night and i had no idea who i did it to… turned out to be a old man named lou……. that had thick glasses
She was scared. She was alone. And she was taken, never to return. Some would call it kidnapped or taken hostage. And escape was impossible at this point, no turning back. But would anyone come for her? She could only hope at this point and that’s all she did.
Marinna
She struggled against him, her lungs screaming and her heels drumming the floor. He was dragging her off from behind, his large strong arms wrapped around her body and pinning her arms to her sides. She could feel him straining with the effort of holding her back and her struggles began anew.
I don’t want to be here anymore. I go from place to place doing the jobs that my whole I was told were for my own benefit. I see now that they are nothing of the sort. They tug at my soul and slowly drain me. I’m nothing but a shell that has been forced into this. My body is holding me hostage. Those who I relentlessly answer to give me nothing. I’m mad. I want to fight back, and I will. I’ll show them. I’ll teach them what it means to stand in the rain. They’ll wish they never felt the first drop.
Becky
im pretty sure something is holding my heart hostage, wrapping it with plastic wrap ever so tightly so that i can only feel that thick, terrible pressure. oh, and my lungs. there’s no room to breathe.
She cringed as she heard another plate crash to the floor. A bout of anger was overcoming him once again, and there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run to. She couldn’t leave without the fury being directed at her; but on the same token, she couldn’t stay either. She was hostage to his ever-changing mood.
Every single time, I’m the hostage and you’re the terrorist. I can’t stand this. Leave me alone.
K
Stranded, my first instinct was to scream. But I couldn’t. Being held hostage at gunpoint changes things. You can’t think, can’t move, can’t make yourself scream for help.
They took me. I don’t know why and I dont know where. But I can’t talk and I can’t see. they are keeping me hostage. from something, from someone. I’m not sure. I want to go home. I want to be with my family. Where am I?? Can I leave soon? What’s going to happen? Am I dying? I can’t breathe. Somebody help me! Please! Please help me! Its dark…
I want to go home…
Where am I?….
Somebody…anybody…help me.
………
whenever someone is taken hostage, another person is let go, so it all evens out in the end right? Wrong, because freedom isn’t free, that’s the american way! YAY!
Was he bound by promises or by his honest heart? Did it matter? My guess is not.
capture, cage, death, destruction, no rights, prisioner, no freedom,
there are always hostages being taken when there’s a war. Who’s the hostage in our war. I do not know. I more often feel like the police agent, the persecutoer the agressor. but sometimes you are too.
She’d been taken hostage and she was scared. Lying in the corner, no light coming in through her blindfold, not sure whether it was night or day, where she was, who was in the room with her. The concrete floor seemed to have grown harder and more uncomfortable over the hours. She didn’t know if anyone would come to rescue her in time. She could feel nothing but terror.
“Hostage” was the name of a Bruce Willis movie that came out while I was a sophomore in high school
I never saw it though, cause it didn’t look that good. But Bruce Willis is pretty cool
I work at a video rental store now. Maybe one day I’ll watch it
I looked down at her, not intending to obey my orders. “Sophie…I’m going to get you out of here.” I whispered. The desperate look in her eyes was my incentive.
“We’ve got a hostage situation,” Carson said into the old cellphone my parents gave him. It’s back was gaping open, and it was clear there was no battery.
I tapped his shoulder. “You do know that policemen don’t use ex-cellphones, right?”
He stood up from his concealed position behind a bush. “You do know they don’t hide behind bushes, right?”
Oh, seven-year-olds.
You hold my heart hostage, and I want it back. But you don’t even know what you have. We’re onp opposite sides of the world; you don’t know that I exist. How many hearts have you unwittingly stolen? I’m sure there are hundreds who have fallen under your spell.
I want to say I love you, but I haven’t even met you. So I suppose I simply lust you. But I don’t think it’s that simple– you make me feel so many things…
I am a hostage to my brain. My past keeps coming up and I can’t shake it. I had it filed away in a box in a corner of my heart, but it keeps escaping.
i was held hostage in mexico. they wanted to take off my clothes and touch my parts. i told them no, and spit in their faces. they beat me with spiked clubs.
Wow, hostages. Being a hostage is bad. Although you do get to do Stockholm syndrome after a while, which means that you get to extend your circle of friends with some really interesting people…
Taking Suzie the mouse hostage, Mr. Whiskers cackled maniacally and batted her around like a furry basketball. The other mice in the wall tittered about, and finally called in the SWAT team for assistance. Mrs. Treehugger rushed in toward Mr. Whiskers with a broom poised over her head, and … SWAT! Suzie was free once again to pee under the armoire.
Sometimes I want to crush his little face. I’d like it to be smeared under foot, my foot, all across the pavement. And with the bits of his smiling muscles trailing behind, I would walk into the nearest bodega and buy a Pepsi, taking in this glorious fucking moment to appreciate what I’ve done for myself.
Ahhh!!! I’ve been held hostage at a bratwurst stand because hostage makes me thing of bratwurst!!! Pafooy… I kick your weenies :) ohuebjk,
take me as your prisoner, put a knife to my throat. kill me, it’s okay, no one will miss me anyway. do you like how you hurt me? do you?
hell.
I couldn’t breathe; couldn’t think.
The one word left me alone in the world.
Hostage.
The men kept on repeating the word to everyone: “You are all hostages! You can’t move — or we’ll shoot!” Which was emphasized with a hefty shake of their heavy-duty guns in the air.
“Freeze!”
As I turned around, I felt a gun firmly poking at my back. Fear took a hold at me from then on. I couldn’t breathe; couldn’t think…
leave
me
be.
I sit here in the dark, hands bound behind me. I can hear him talking on the phone, catching some words here and there, money, how much, come here, you, alone. I refuse to tremble or cry, but my legs are shaking and it’s a good thing they’ve thrown me down because I wouldn’t be able to stand.
Her hands were bound behind her and her mouth was covered in duct tape. Muffled screams rang through the room, and all the man in the corner did was flick his knife out and chuckle.
“Game over.”
A hostage of cottage cheese. That’s how my mother described herself, even after things got serious. Her bones were breaking down under her, like a house foundation crumbling, but she was just a hostage of cottage cheese, her head posing in a corny tourist stockade, pretending she was just doing it for the photo.
I’m a hostage inside my own head. I can’t pull away from myself and I have nowhere to run to. Where am I going? a blindfold folds me in darkness. I don’t know who i am anymore.
The back of the wagon creaked. But it was not from rusty wheels, but weight. For concealed under the canvas top were 21 captives, bound, gagged, and unconscious. All were in their teens, and if they were alert at the time, an observer would find that every single one’s eyes were of a pale, clear blue.
The note was made up of letters cut out of newspaper headlines. It was stark, and it meant business. “I’ve taken your candy bar hostage. I am willing to negotiate for its release but only if you promise to stop eating my all potato chips and buy me a new bag of Ruffles. Stay by your phone. You will be called with the details of the exchange.”
she was held captive not by any human but by an emotion. it was an emotion so powerful that she could not control herself. it was not fear that held her captive but love.
The crowd’s hushed voices were overwhelmed by the masked man’s rants and ravings at the bank attendants for cash. Children cried as everyone crouched on the ground, praying for safety. And to think, all I needed to do was use the ATM.
Sometimes I feel like my emotions hold me hostage. Like everyone else can be all calm and collected. And I have to worry about crying in public.
trapped.
a word that has many different perspectives.
a subjective term.
this was not how I felt,
I was caught.
I was bounded.
I could not move for my life was in danger
my life, and my loved ones.
I was a hostage.
i am being held hostage by my own mind, by my own concept of myself as the unlovable. i have a chance right now to be with someone i so admire…but my doubts are so great that i don’t know that i can just be and love and love and love….
The hostage lives inside a tiny blue button named after the rhinos that live inside of your feet. I am QUEEN OF THE NOSTRILS. EVERYTHING BELONGS TO MY PANTS. YES PANTS, AHAHAHAHAH PANTS I LOVE PANTS DO YOU LOVE PANTS? WELL TOO BAD. NO PANTS FOR YOU I’M HOLDING THEM HOSTAGE.
once i made a hostage and it was grnad except that the fact it was night and i had no idea who i did it to… turned out to be a old man named lou……. that had thick glasses
She was scared. She was alone. And she was taken, never to return. Some would call it kidnapped or taken hostage. And escape was impossible at this point, no turning back. But would anyone come for her? She could only hope at this point and that’s all she did.
She struggled against him, her lungs screaming and her heels drumming the floor. He was dragging her off from behind, his large strong arms wrapped around her body and pinning her arms to her sides. She could feel him straining with the effort of holding her back and her struggles began anew.
I don’t want to be here anymore. I go from place to place doing the jobs that my whole I was told were for my own benefit. I see now that they are nothing of the sort. They tug at my soul and slowly drain me. I’m nothing but a shell that has been forced into this. My body is holding me hostage. Those who I relentlessly answer to give me nothing. I’m mad. I want to fight back, and I will. I’ll show them. I’ll teach them what it means to stand in the rain. They’ll wish they never felt the first drop.
im pretty sure something is holding my heart hostage, wrapping it with plastic wrap ever so tightly so that i can only feel that thick, terrible pressure. oh, and my lungs. there’s no room to breathe.
She cringed as she heard another plate crash to the floor. A bout of anger was overcoming him once again, and there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run to. She couldn’t leave without the fury being directed at her; but on the same token, she couldn’t stay either. She was hostage to his ever-changing mood.
Every single time, I’m the hostage and you’re the terrorist. I can’t stand this. Leave me alone.
Stranded, my first instinct was to scream. But I couldn’t. Being held hostage at gunpoint changes things. You can’t think, can’t move, can’t make yourself scream for help.