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Short Stories
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@ 19-09-2003 09:39 Masterful_Ally | 15,627 posts
| Hey guys, Orpheus_Myth pointed out this was needed so feel free to post your short stories here and get some feedback - I may even do so meself 
Ally xxx |
| Showing posts 1-25 of 52 | Page 1 of 3 |
| Discussion |
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 0  @ 19-09-2003 10:36 Rass | 5,430 posts
| this isn't a short story, i dont think, but since no one has posted yet and i wanna be the first to post and my short story i wanted to post wont stupid open becuase of some stupid file corruption i will post this becuase i want to and i can do whatever i want cause i'm king
---------------------------------------------------------A Fit of Depression
Deep. Dark. Don’t ask me how I feel. The answer shimmers in my unshed tears. My blank face tells the secret story in unspoken words of this broken trust. My unsmiling yet not frowning look tells of my indifference to this world, this world that hath left me in its dust. In the wake of its absence I squander like a fish out of water. Death won’t come for me; life has left me, so where lie I? In the midst of this life and death in which no one will lay claim to me. Look to my eyes. Cold and dead to the fleeing world, yet they shimmer with the sadness my soul holds. My soul longs to cry, to wail, to lie to rest the unspoken sadness of the cemetery. They have peace at least, where as I am forced to push on. Death won’t claim me, life has no need of me, I lie alone. A dirt path inside my head. My body aches, my eyes sting with tears that I refuse to cry. A stubborn child. I’ll never give into this feeling, this over whelming dishonest jubilation at the fact I am all alone. Why must the world be so large as one can stand alone on the barren dirt path inside their skull? I stand alone and weep. Nay! I will not weep and give into this! That is what they want! Not a tear spills, not a sob escapes. My lip bleeds. I am alone. Down the path of sadness and distorted memories I head and there is not a damn thing to sooth the sting in my mind. Death stalks me, I hope for the kill. Clenched fists draw blood from mutilated palms. Pale cheeks tell of suffering that has been endured far too long. My mind screams, my soul wails, my body aches, I walk alone. Alone. Dirt path to gravel, gravel to pavement, I journey alone. Not a car, not a living being in sight. Houses line the street now, unlived in since the day of their birth, built by an unknown force that does not exist. Off the path I walk, I venture. Push open a door and cringe at the dank smell of darkness. Blinking at the unexpected brightness of insanity I venture in and unknowingly set up residence. I live alone. Bugs infest every corner of this house, yet nothing lives, nothing breathes, nothing moves. Plaster falls from the ceiling in the room that contains naught but bed and dresser, the desk having rot away long ago from the recent neglect. Mysteriously, nothing but leaves scatter the bed. The bugs stop their chatter and listen as I pick up the Bible from amongst the foliage. The Bible, a hopeful light in my darkness. Sit on the floor amongst the bugs and leaves and I read. I read as though my life and soul depended on it, and I understand nothing. I turn the page and it falls to dust. Ashes to ashes, dust-to-dust, life to death, who can I trust. Not even God will sit with me while I cry. I cry. I give in and up and I cried at the exhilarating feeling of sadness. I fall into a fit of depression. | | 0 @ 19-09-2003 10:41 becky_g | 377 posts
| im impressed.. that was really good..
its strange how someone elses writing can capture the feelings i feel so accurately.. when they dont even know me... its funny how that happens.. i sat here reading that thinking it was written for me...
well done thats an awesome piece of writing!!
 | | 0 @ 19-09-2003 10:56 Rass | 5,430 posts
| i forgot how poetic it was, i'm supposed to write a second part, called "My Break Of Dawn" but since i'm still in the depression its hard to capture the feelings of coming out of one. i have to write the second one eventually though because my little sister demanded it, A Fit of Depression made her cry  | | 0 @ 19-09-2003 10:58 becky_g | 377 posts
| yeah i can see why.. its a touching piece of writing... really hits a spot.. even more so when you feel the same.
ill be waiting out for the second half..  | | 0 @ 17-10-2003 23:59 Sunflower | 1,171 posts
| I wrote this last year and haven't done anything with it, so I might as well post it....okay...this is the first time I've actually shared a piece of writing so....don't be too harsh. 
--
She shivers, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. The hollow winter wind howls as it sails over the mountains, sending loose crystals flying around her face. The sudden breeze penetrates her skin, tinting her cheeks an icy pink shade. She smiles softly, turning towards the house. It's not much -- actually, it's tiny. Through the one window, a small evergreen is visible, illuminated by the fire blazing in the tiny fireplace next to it. She turns back, facing the dark mountains. The shadowy outlines are barely visible, this night is so black. Another wind whistles by, and this time she doesn't fight it. She lifts her chin and closes her eyes, savouring the moment. Filled with unexplainable warmth, she takes one final look at the bleak landscape. Closing her eyes, she turns and treads through the fresh snow, back to the cabin. As the powder crunches beneath her feet, she looks to the stars in the sky. They have never burned so bright, or so beautifully as they did then, late that winter night.
--
| | 0 @ 28-10-2003 01:11 Sunflower | 1,171 posts
| Anybody want to respond? Anybody at all? | | 0 @ 28-10-2003 01:13 anoobis | 15,407 posts
| haha it's good...finish it! | | 0 @ 28-10-2003 03:02 XxX | 4,994 posts
| So what happens? | | 0 @ 28-10-2003 07:52 Rass | 5,430 posts
| hmmm i forgot i put a fit of depression up here  but i've writen the second part so i'll go ahead and post it too
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MY BREAK OF DAY
Oh hateful spite that left me in this fit of depression. How deep and dark it feels to be curled up on this floor. Amongst the foliage and the bugs that chatter non-stop both night and day. But what is a day and what is a night in this house of desperate feelings. Left wanting of life; left needing of death. Consumed by a disease known only as self-loathing. Amongst the bugs I lie alone. I fear God doesn’t even venture here. His book fell to dust in my own hands yesterday, or last week, or five minutes ago. I don’t remember and it doesn’t matter. I had finally wept. I had cried cold tears of a denied sadness and I weep still. My eyes are like broken pipes; they shall never stop leaking. I cry as I sleep, I cry as I wake, I cry as I lay here, and I never move from this floor. For what is there to see and what is there to do out there on that cold path in my head? Nothing I say, for there is nothing left for me in this world. There might be nothing waiting for me in the next world but oh to escape this one would be such a joy. To escape this world that proved long ago it did not want me. To escape this meaningless existence that I lay trapped in, that I drown in, that ignores me. To escape it would be bliss, even if the next does not want me either. For there is always a time when you do not know how much life hates you. A time before you hate it back. Anger. Red-hot fire. It consumes me. Fills the house with flames that I can hardly feel. I can hear the bugs screaming their death cries as the leaves go up in smoke, as I stand and exit the room, quicker than I came. For I knew now what had to be done. Knew there was no other choice. If death won’t come to me, I will go to him. Far too simple to have been seen before. Contemplated for years on end though no firm thought had presented itself, no concrete and cement decision had slipped a veil over my eyes. Lo and behold it did not matter now. To the kitchen. The bare meaningless pitiful kitchen in the house that I had built with my sadness, with my life. Up in flames it went around me but did I care? Nay. My decision was stone. Cement. Cold hard concrete upon which a child’s skull could crack like a melon. There was only one thing in that kitchen now, only one I ever needed. A simple, old fashion, golden, key. I snatch it up as the floor turns to ashes. Flee my burning life. I don’t even look back. Run. Where was I going? Oh, I knew where I was going. I had been here at the birthing of this desolate wasteland in my head. Watched the houses build from nothing as they stood for eternity. I knew where I was going. Run. Run for my life. Run to my death. I can’t even notice as the world begins to awaken. Sounds of the beginning fall on deaf ears. Those sounds do not matter, it is my end and damn it I’m going to evacuate this life before it takes me down another dirty dusty God forsaken path. Ignore the stinging and the searing and the smell as the key burns into my flesh. Oh it is not mine to hold and never was. But pain is nothing when you flee. And flee I did. To the hill, to the monument, to my grave. Up the hill, the black was fading. Up the hill, the noise was rising. Up the hill, my name they were calling. Up the hill, were they crying? Stop. Wait. Listen. Turn to the East. Listen. My grave was just over that hill. My release. My escape. But I could…not…move. Stood and listened. Listened to the crying. Listened to the pleading. Listened to my friends and family mourning. Listened to them fall into their own fit of depression. Stood and listened. Listened to the future. Oh but release from this life that has left me behind. Oh to escape the darkness. The key slips from my hand. Cold tears roll down my cheeks. My body, numb and shaky, sinks to the ground. On the hill of my life I sit and cry. But what is this? The darkness was fading. But what is this? The sounds of life were in my ears. But what is this? A new beginning? They say every night, no matter how deep and long, has its break of day. Do I dare believe it? Yes. For the darkness WAS fading. And in the East, far off but sure enough, it was rising. My friends would be beside me, if I happened to look. But did I have to? Nay. I knew they were there. They had always been. They would always be. Gold in the sky. Hope. It was a new beginning. And so I smile, I view my break of dawn. | | 0 @ 28-10-2003 09:16 becky_g | 377 posts
| thats awesome!! i have been waiting for that installation since i read your old one... and you do not dissappoint!!
your a talented one arent you? well i think you are anyway. congratulations on writing these..
does this mean you've passed through your depression too..? if so congratulations! im proud of you (i know i dont really know you) well done for pulling thru.. i have a special someone to whom your pieces of writing may be helpful.
thankyou for sharing these pieces. its very muchly appreciated by me.. i dont know about everyone else.. but i appreciate it.
cheers!  | | 0 @ 28-10-2003 09:32 Rass | 5,430 posts
| aw thanks, i like to think i'm a bit talented  i'm not fully out of my depression but i'm getting better, i wrote this though in inspiration for a friends friend, she was depressed and suicidal so i thought "what can i do?" and 'my break of dawn' just popped out it helps me when i feel down and read it, makes me cry because i know its so true | | 0 @ 28-10-2003 09:39 becky_g | 377 posts
| no worries! just thought i'd give you some feedback! just telling the truth!
i hope you pull thru! i really do!! goodluck!!!
cheers!! | | 0 @ 28-10-2003 09:41 Rass | 5,430 posts
| aw thanks that helps heaps to hear someone say they hope i get better | | 0 @ 28-10-2003 09:54 CatX3 | 2,296 posts
| Accidently...
Huddling, shivering in the corner, staring at the ground in this dark place. I wonder if I’ll ever get out, ever get free, ever escape this mentally torturing jail. Nobody knows and nobody realises this temporary world I live in, because looking through the naked eye I appear conscious, aware of what I’m doing, this couldn’t be further from the truth. I was just an innocent girl who went to church every Sunday and listened to her parents, how did I deserve this burden? I focus on being in control but somehow I lose myself in a maze that has high walls and no exit.
I can remember the first time it ever happened. It was the darkest day in winter. The weather has always determined how I’m feeling, a bright sunny day and a walk along the beach in the morning always sets me up for a good day. But if it’s hailing outside and the wind is blowing and the sky is grey I feel just as miserable as the landscape looks. This day was particularly dark, everything was so still, so silent I guess my behaviour that day didn’t go unnoticed. I woke up at about 9 and I thought it was still night before because my room was so dimly lit. I pulled the blankets back and there was blood on the pillow, I just figured it must have been a nose bleed but when I looked in the mirror my face was clean with no trace of any blood.
I opened my bed room door and froze. I could not believe my eyes. Where there was once a lovely decorated hallway, there was now a dark, uninviting alleyway. The cement was wet and when I looked behind me my bedroom was no longer there. The only object was an old, torn couch that had obviously been dumped and no longer wanted. Had I really slept there all night? Or was I still dreaming? I looked at myself and I wasn’t even in my pyjamas anymore, all that I wore was an old raggy dress. I had no shoes and my hands were dirty with grit, dirt and blood under my fingernails. I looked up at the sky it was dark in various shades of grey just like Sam, the next door neighbour’s dog. It was pouring and there was no shelter in sight, just dominating concrete walls. I couldn’t see any people and I couldn’t see any thing I recognised. My legs were blue from the icy chill of the stiff wind blowing down the alley way, my legs were also cut, scratched and stained with blood.
I tried to yell out hoping for my mother to answer and shake me out of this nightmare. But I couldn’t break the silence of what lay before me, just the rain hitting the cement quietly and washing my memory away. I stepped out and the ground was cold and painful on my feet. I could no longer feel my toes and the numbness was spreading through my feet. I lent my arm against the wall to steady myself. I took another step and managed to stay upright. I knew if I focussed I could make it to the end of the alley, maybe there would be someone there who could help or at least tell me where I was.
It seemed to take hours to stagger down the alley. I thought I must have been ½ way there at least. But when I looked behind me there was the old, torn couch sitting just a metre behind me as it had before. Had I not moved at all? I started to lose hope… I sunk down with my back against the wall and rocked myself with my head resting on my knees. I shut my eyes and prayed that when I opened them I’d be back at home in my bed.
I opened my eyes slowly, but for a few moments everything was a blur. All I could make out was a dark figure whirring in front of me. I blinked to try and see clearer. The figure seemed to be saying something, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I couldn’t even tell if it was English, their hand was outstretched. I started to feel myself getting dizzy again I reached out and the figure took my hand reassuringly. I was yanked to my feet and forced along the harshly cold cement. I could hardly feel any of my legs now and couldn’t hold myself and collapsed to the ground. Scraping along the pavement for some grip my fingers were bleeding but I couldn’t feel anything, I was completely numb. Suddenly I was uplifted by my ankles and dragged along the hard cement. I didn’t have the energy to hold my head up to keep it from scraping along the ground. My face was bleeding now and I knew I was minutes from passing out. I closed my eyes but my head kept spinning, my arms were dragging along in front of me. Before I was completely unconscious I heard the sound of glass breaking up ahead but I couldn’t care, all I wanted to do was sleep.
Slowly I open my eyes not knowing what would face me this time. What lay before me gradually focussed and now I could see that figure clearly, still in front of me. They were dressed in all black, with missing teeth and the remaining ones brown and rotted. They were bent over and just glaring into my face. Quietly I asked them, “Who…..Who are you?” They then stood up tall with their hands on their hips and gave the most evil giggle. For some reason my question was humorous. I rose to my feet and they gripped me by the shoulders and shunt me against the wall. The solid wall pushed on my shoulder blades with intensity. I tried to push the figure away but they started to giggle again. They covered my mouth with their palm which smelt like the sewers on a really hot day. I was breathing heavily and started to panic. My eyes were darting around the place trying to find something that could possibly help me. I looked down at my hands and most of my nails had chipped and were now quite sharp. The figure put their face so close to mine. With all my might I struck the figure down the face with my nails drawing blood instantly.
Now free of their control I ran down the street so fast I thought I would trip and fall. I ran until I could no longer breathe. Still I didn’t know where I was but at least I was safe. I squatted and tried to catch my breath. Still panting I could hear a faint voice calling my name in the distance. It seemed to be waling my name rather than calling it. It carried right down the street. I had no idea how close the sound was. I could only see two or three metres in front of me, after that the fog seeped over everything. Again it called “Jodie!!!!..... JODIE!!!!!!!!!” The voice was familiar. I knew I had heard it before somewhere. It was a soft and gentle voice usually but in this place it was cold, harsh and eerie. I screamed at the top of my lungs for help. But my cry was just echoed back.
“I wanna feel something sweeter than this sin….” I sang to myself as I bleakly stared at the ground. As I was humming I heard footsteps nearing. Clomp, Clomp, Clomp. They were heavy footsteps of someone who knows exactly where they’re going and what they’re doing. Clomp, Clomp, Clomp. Still getting nearer. I decided it probably wasn’t a good idea to stick around and find out what was coming. I got up and sprinted down the street and saw a corner to hide behind. I huddled there and waited. Clomp, Clomp, Clomp. The footsteps never changed pace. Never changed speed until they stopped about three or four metres short of where I was hiding. They said “Come out Jodie, I’m not going to hurt you.” Under the voice I could hear a muffled giggle. “Jodie I know where you’re hiding, don’t make me come and get you!!” I didn’t move an inch, I couldn’t move an inch. I had just frozen. The next thing I knew they were standing above me. Before I could do or say anything they kicked me in the ribs. The pain was unbearable. They then picked me up by my hair and punched me. I don’t know how long this went on but I could feel the blood pouring out of my nose and my wounds starting to swell. I was searching the ground for some hope, some help. But I couldn’t see anything and all I kept touching was the cement. I was given one blow to my head I suppose to finish me off and it threw me out from the wall.
Every part of my body was aching. The stranger was standing behind and was just kneeling down I guess to check that I was unconscious or even better dead. I managed to move my sign just to spite them. But as I moved my hand I came across something smooth. It was cold and about twice the size of my hand. I grabbed it and realised it was glass because when I picked it up it slit my palm like a piece of meat. The stranger was now in front of me and now laughing. I grabbed the glass even tighter and still it dug into my palm but my whole body was in the same amount of pain so I didn’t care. I braced myself and speared the glass at the stranger. They fell to the ground and I flopped back down to where I was lying. Everything started to spin again and then everything just went black.
I woke up in hospital about six months later. That stranger had put me in a coma. When I woke up I could hardly believe my eyes, I wondered why I wasn’t at home in my own bed, in my own room, with my own family. Instead I was in the intensive care unit at the hospital I only thought I’d visit twice in my life. My father was in the chair at the foot of the bed with his head in his hands. When I moved my leg he looked up and saw me awake and cried. I had never seen my father cry before then. My father hugged me and held me until the doctors came in. They did the usual doctor thing checked the chart, said something to me in medical terms congratulated my father and then left. I was still so confused. Why was I in a coma in the first place? What happened after I passed out? Where was my mother?
I only learned the answers to these questions in the next few months. My father told me that my mother had died, the day before I woke. I was devastated. First I got lost in a world that I’m not even sure existed, then I got put in a coma and then my mother dies? What really did I do so wrong? My father wouldn’t answer anymore questions. He said it was best that they were left as questions not turned into answers. The funeral was two weeks after that. In my mother’s will she said she wanted an open coffin. My father tried to change this for some reason like seeing his wife one last time was unbearable. At the funeral we all took time to say our goodbyes. My father and I went last he held me by the shoulder and walked me up to the coffin. I could hear him sniffling and could feel his tears running down my neck. The coffin was black with red silk on the interior. We got to the coffin and my Dad looked up at the crucifix on the wall and screamed “WHY?!” Only then I looked down at my mother, she had four scratches down her left cheek which someone had tried to cover up with her hair. She was dressed in her favourite jacket and skirt suit. The jacket neck was quite low which was the reason my mother liked it. Then I saw on her chest a deep wound that looked like someone had also tried to cover that up. I couldn’t move I just stood there with a single tear running down my face.
I don’t know if it was me that killed my mother which is exactly what I’ll tell the judge today. It took the police six years to get the suspects down to one. Me. I loved my mother and I would never intentionally hurt her. What happened on that cold day was not my fault. If I am found not guilty I only hope for the sake of my loved ones that I don’t return to that dark place.
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I hope atleast someone gets it. It's a text inspired piece. I can't believe this is the only one I have on computer, the rest I have on paper and at the moment I can't type them. | | 0 @ 01-11-2003 16:37 Sunflower | 1,171 posts
| I love it...I want to know what happened! | | 0 @ 11-11-2003 03:58 Rass | 5,430 posts
| okay, because another thread reminded me of my little sisters awesome perfect "oh my god" short story i had to post it, and i demand to know what you people think or i threaten to make another thread all to itself lol
-------------------------------------------------------
Are You Happy?
Tyhana Jude let herself forget. She really didn’t forget anything, but that’s what it felt like when she stared off at nothing, not thinking. A heaviness seemed to fill her head even though she felt that there was nothing there to cause this sensation. Her body relaxed, and her eyes drifted off to some unseen, far-off point. If she sat like this long enough, she’d feel the uncontrollable urge to move or do something, but could not. She often imagined that this was how her sister felt most of the time; empty, yet full of something that was dying to escape and be free.
“Tie-ha-nah?”
The ten-year-old snapped out of her silent reverie at the sound of her mispronounced name. She shook her head to clear the lingering heaviness, and glared up at the woman who had spoken to her.
“It’s Tie-anna,” she responded indignantly.
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear.” The woman smiled, flashing her pearly whites. “Tie-anna.”
The woman was a nurse, and they were in the intensive care section of Clarkson City Children’s Hospital. Tyhana looked away from the nurse and down at the hospital bed in front of her. She gazed at the child that lay in the bed, a perfect replica of her face under the thick, white bandages that wrapped around her twin’s head. The sleeping child seemed to be in complete serenity, seemed to be content, to be perfectly normal.
“Her name’s Myan,” Tyhana said, not particularly aiming these words at the nurse. “She was in an accident.”
“I know, honey.” The nurse’s voice was sympathetic.
Tyhana looked up at the nurse, wondering how much she actually knew. “She’s autistic…”
First confusion, then realization, and finally the utmost pity formed in the nurse’s eyes. Tyhana knew what she thought. It was the same thing that she had once believed. Until recently, Tyhana had thought that autistic was synonymous with retarded. But that wasn’t true, she knew now. Her sister wasn’t retarded, or even stupid. Myan was very intelligent, and a savant when it came to drawing. Her realistic looking drawings of animals decorated the refrigerator door right alongside Tyhana’s school papers.
Tyhana lowered her gaze. She sighed. Not for the first time, she wondered why her sister had become impaired and she had not. They were identical, shouldn’t they be the same?
The nurse moved around the hospital bed, and took a seat in the chair next to Tyhana. She put an arm around the small girl.
“Everything’s going to be ok. Your sister will be fine,” the nurse said in a soothing tone. After a few seconds, she said, “Would you like to talk about it?”
Tyhana said nothing.
“What happened?”
Tyhana assumed the nurse knew quite a bit more about Myan and herself than she was letting on, but she decided to oblige the kind woman. She just didn’t know where to start.
“It must be hard being her twin,” the nurse whispered a few minutes later.
“Yes,” Tyhana whispered back. Than, she had an idea. She would start by telling her exactly what it was like having an autistic twin. “It is hard…”
Myan Jacqueline Jude sat at the end of the driveway, one leg tucked underneath her, the other bent with her hands and chin resting on her knee. She titled her head to the left as her turquoise eyes watched clear water race down the drive and out into the street. The water rippled and rolled over the rough cement, and Myan could sit contently watching its journey for hours.
Tyhana sat in the grass beside the driveway, watching her twin. Like Myan, she could do this for an endless amount of time without getting bored. She sat in a similar position as Myan, only her fingers were laced together, holding her leg to her chest, and she sat up straight instead of mimicking her sister’s slouch. Both girls wore the same thing; red tennis shoes, blue jeans, a red t-shirt under a sleeveless blue jean vest (this was an oddity, Myan normally refused to wear jeans, the denim being to coarse for her). Tyhana’s clothes were almost completely soaked, the result of a good half hour helping her daddy wash the family car.
“Tyhana, Myan! Dinner’s ready!” their father called from the front porch.
Tyhana stood and walked over to her sister. “Myan?” She touched Myan’s shoulder to get her attention.
Myan jerked away and gave a short, shrill scream. She began to steadily rock back and forth, whimpering softly under her breath. Tyhana sighed in frustration. Little touches always bothered Myan, as if it caused her extreme pain.
“Myan, it’s time to go in now,” Tyhana said, her naturally short patience running thin already. “Daddy says we have to go in for dinner.”
“Da-dee. Dinner time,” Myan said in her monotonous drawl. She stood, turned, and walked to the house without looking at Tyhana. She never did. Tyhana followed her.
Inside, Tyhana quickly went to her room to change into some dry clothes. By the time she arrived in the dining room, her mother, father, and Myan were sitting at the table, the latter slightly rocking as she sipped from a glass of water. Tyhana took her seat next to her twin.
“Where’s Jagger?” she asked.
“He’s eating at Joe’s tonight,” her mother informed her.
“He’s sleeping over, too?”
“That’s the plan.” Her mother smiled.
“Jagger at Joe’s,” Myan said, this time in a singsong way.
Jagger was Tyhana and Myan’s sixteen-year-old brother. Jagger was often out spending time with his friends, and every moment of free time at home was spent with the twins.
“Would you like to say the prayer tonight, Ty?” her father asked.
“Ok.” They all put their hands together and lowered their heads. “God is gracious, God is good, and we thank Him for our food. By His hands, we must be fed, and give us, the Lord, our daily bread. Amen.”
“Amen.”
Dinner, ham and potatoes with green beans, went smoothly for the most part. They spoke of school and friends while they ate. It wasn’t until Tyhana kindly offered to clear the table that things began to go downhill.
“Nooooooooo!!!” Myan screamed, covering her ears and rocking back and forth violently.
Tyhana dropped the plate she had just picked up. It clattered to the table, sending flecks of potato and ham onto the tablecloth. Myan had been so placid, so calm today, that Tyhana had thought that maybe she would be able to accept a small change in routine. She settled back into her chair, feeling disappointed and embarrassed as her sister continued her rapid rocking, whimpering and muttering the negative.
“It’s ok, My, shh,” their mother said, getting up from her spot and giving the whimpering girl a brief hug before setting about clearing the table.
“I’m sorry…” Tyhana whispered. “I’m sorry…I…”
“It’s not your fault, Ty. You were just trying to help.” Father smiled at her, and she smiled back despite how she felt.
“…No…no…no…” Myan whimpered, rocking slower than before.
“I’m sorry, My.” Tyhana watched her twin, hoping she would turn to her and say ‘It’s ok.’ But she knew that that would probably never happen.
“My and Ty…My and Ty…” Myan almost stopped rocking, but she kept her hands firmly pressed against her ears. “My and Ty…”
Desert was pumpkin pie with cool-whip, and Tyhana inhaled her slice, as usual. She wanted to be excused from the table and go watch cartoons, but her mother insisted that she be polite and wait. It really sucked being the fastest eater. You always had to wait, wait, wait, wait…
Finally she was given leave to go watch TV for an hour. As she watched Courage the Cowardly Dog deal with the elderly Muriel turned into an annoying three year old, Myan sat next to her, drawing pictures in colored pencils. Every now and then Tyhana would glance over, watching her sister’s seemingly childish strokes of the pencil turn into a gorgeous, realistic-looking wolf howling at a golden moon. Myan had always been able to draw this way, and sometimes Tyhana envied her talent.
As always, their parents tucked them into bed at eight o’clock after their bath. Tyhana and her parents spoke about how Tyhana wanted to take tae-kwon-doe lessons, and about the upcoming Christmas play she was going to be in. Tyhana spoke half-heartedly, sneaking small glances at her sister the whole time. Myan lay in bed, serenely staring up at the ceiling. Their parents kissed Tyhana once on each cheek and turned to Myan. Their conversation was drastically shorter than the one they had with Tyhana. They tried talking about the pictures Myan had drawn while Tyhana watched cartoons, but Myan’s responses, when she gave any, were repetitive. Soon their parents had kissed Myan goodnight, too, and turned on the music box that lay on the bedside table between the two girls’ beds. As the soft melody played, Myan’s eyes drifted shut. Their parents silently turned off the light and left the room.
“My?”
No response.
“My…?”
Nothing.
“My? Are you happy?”
She heard her twin mutter something, but couldn’t understand what it was.
“Are you happy?” she repeated.
“…My and Ty…My and…Ty…” Nothing more. That would have to be good enough. Tyhana, only partially satisfied, allowed herself to drift off to sleep.
A week passed. The usual obstacles that came with Myan’s condition seemed to be easily overcome to Tyhana. The first show for the Christmas play was on Friday, and she was looking forward to her family watch her play an angel.
“Mommy, daddy, you’re going to watch me Friday, right?” Tyhana asked in between bites of cinnamon oatmeal. “Both of you?”
Mom and Dad gave each other knowing looks.
“Honey, I don’t think we can. You know how Myan gets. She can’t sit still in a crowded room for long periods of time, and she gets frustrated if she’s left with a sitter,” her mother said, frowning.
“But…” Tyhana sighed in frustration, knowing she wasn’t going to win.
“How about this. Mommy goes and sees the play on Friday, and I’ll go see it on Saturday. They’re playing again on Saturday, right?” her father suggested.
“Yes…”
Just as she said this, Jagger walked in, carrying Myan in his arms. Jagger was the only one she would let do this, she’d kick and bite anyone else who even tried.
“Jagger!” Tyhana suddenly cried.
Jagger stopped dead in his tracks, halfway to the breakfast table. “What?”
Tyhana ignored him and turned to their parents. “Jagger can take care of Myan! Both of you can come to the play and Jagger can baby-sit Myan!” She smiled broadly, impressed with her idea.
“Oh…” Jagger sat Myan in the chair next to Tyhana. “Sorry, no can do, kid. I’ve made plans already. Sorry.”
“What!?” Tyhana could feel bitter tears stinging in her eyes. “That’s not fair!”
Jagger just shrugged, ruffled Myan’s blonde hair, grabbed a package of poptarts from the cabinet, and left. Tyhana gaped at the spot where her brother once was. She turned to her parents again.
“That’s not fair…” she whispered, a few silent tears making their way from the corners of her eyes down her cheeks. “Not fair…”
“I’m sorry, honey,” her mother said. “We’ll just have to see it separately. And we’ll record it so we can all watch it together on Christmas. Ok?”
“...Ok…” She sighed. Tyhana looked over at Myan, and felt contempt for her autistic twin. This was all her fault.
That Saturday after the second showing of the play, Tyhana rode home with her father. He couldn’t stop talking about how great he thought she was on stage, but she wasn’t listening. She stared out the car window, thinking of all the disappointments in her life that had been caused by Myan.
When they got home, Tyhana walked into the room she shared with her twin. Myan sat at the long wooden desk opposite their beds. She was drawing a pair of Siamese cats playing with a ball of yarn beneath a giant oak tree. Tyhana stood there for a moment before speaking.
“It’s your fault…” she muttered. Myan continued to draw. “It’s all your fault. It’s your fault that mom and dad didn’t come see the play together. It’s your fault they didn’t get to see the plays last year either.”
Myan continued to draw, seeming to ignore Tyhana. This wasn’t uncommon; she often acted as though she were deaf.
“Everything is your fault,” she said a little louder. “Why do you have to be so stupid? Why are you so retarded? Why can’t you be normal?”
By now tears were streaming down her cheeks. She felt like picking up one of her stuffed dolls and throwing it at Myan, but she didn’t want to make her sister start screaming again. She’d get in trouble if she did. Instead, she stormed from the room and locked herself in the bathroom until she gained control of her traitorous tears.
Nine days came and went, bringing Tyhana no comfort. She seemed to blame her sister for every little thing that went wrong in those nine days, and Myan was none the wiser. Tyhana hated her sister’s blissful ignorance of the world, her artistic talent, everything about her. By the time school was over on the ninth day, she was wishing she had not been born a twin at all. This state of mind didn’t last long.
Every day after school Tyhana and Myan would wait for their mother on the playground. This day was no different. Tyhana played on the monkey bars as Myan sat next to the swings, picking up handfuls of sand and letting it fall through her fingers, fascinated. As Tyhana made it across the bars for a third time, a boy, the class bully, approached Myan.
Tyhana swung from bar to bar for a fourth time, oblivious to the boy talking to Myan. As she turned to go across for the fifth time she happened to glance over, and recognized the boy as Tommy Reeves, and knew he was up to no good. Tommy had picked on Myan because of her disability before, and had almost gotten physical with her the last time simply because she wouldn’t look at him.
She watched Tommy speak to Myan for a moment, not being able to hear what he said. She didn’t feel like going over and making him stop. Why should she? Myan had never done anything for her. Of course, these things were erased from her mind the instant Tommy Reeves pushed Myan.
Tyhana had jumped from the playground equipment, sprinted the short distance between her and Tommy, tackled the boy, and bloodied his nose before she could even think. His cries and Myan’s screams filled her ears as she got off of him. She grabbed her twin’s arm and hauled her to her feet. Myan surprisingly didn’t struggle away, but willingly followed Tyhana across the playground and out the chain-link fence’s gate.
“Are you ok, My?” Tyhana asked, leading her sister to the corner farthest from Tommy Reeves.
Myan promptly bit the meat of her thumb, nodding her head. Tyhana wrenched her sister’s hand from her mouth. “Don’t do that, My.”
Myan whimpered, shook her head, and looked off down the street. Tyhana turned and saw their mother’s car coming. When she turned back Myan had popped her thumb into her mouth, this time sucking it like an infant. Their mother pulled up, and Tyhana quickly ushered Myan into the backseat, sliding in after her. She slammed the door shut loudly.
“Something wrong?” their mother asked.
“No. Nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Alright.”
As the car pulled away from the school building, Tyhana turned around in her seat to look at Tommy, but he was not there. Not bothered in the least by this, Tyhana turned back around and enjoyed the ride home.
The next day at school Tommy Reeves gave Tyhana and Myan a wide berth. Tyhana was much happier. The encounter with Tommy somehow made her think differently about Myan. For some reason she no longer blamed Myan for things caused by her disability. And, at recess, Myan hugged her, and muttered something that sounded like ‘thank you’. Myan went back to making sand castles, and Tyhana found that she no longer saw her sister as retarded. It became clear to her that autism and mental retardation were two completely different things. And she was happy.
After school Tyhana and Myan waited. Tyhana had found a small blue bouncy ball on the playground earlier that day, and she was letting Myan play with it. As Myan bounced the ball over and over again, Tyhana was swinging across the monkey bars again. Out of the corner of her eye, Tyhana saw Myan bounce the ball, miss the catch, and follow the ball as it rolled away from her. She saw the truck, obviously going at least twenty miles over the speed limit, tear down the street towards the school. She saw the ball bounce into the street in the path of this oncoming truck. But none of this registered to her until she saw Myan walk into the street after the blue toy.
Tyhana dropped from the monkey bars halfway across, and only managed a few rushed steps before she had to squeeze her eyes shut to block out the image of what just happened to her sister. She dropped to her knees and pressed her hands to her ears, screaming and rocking back in forth. She so perfectly mimicked her sister that, at first, her mother thought that it was Tyhana who had been hit by the speeding truck.
Tyhana finished her tale in a whisper, her cheeks wet with tears and her voice hoarse. The nurse hugged her close, trying to comfort her. For what seemed like an eternity they sat there in silence.
“Your mother’s waiting for you. I was supposed to bring you back,” the nurse said. “I suppose you can stay here a minute longer if you want…”
“Thank you…” Tyhana sniffled.
The nurse tightened her hug for a moment before rising. She left Tyhana and the unconscious Myan alone once more. Tyhana pulled her chair closer to her twin’s bed.
“I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have said those things before…I should have been watching you today. This is all my fault. I’m sorry, My, I’m so sorry...”
Tyhana closed her eyes and cried. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. Time seemed to stretch out into eternity as she cried.
“…Ty…”
Tyhana slowly looked up, and saw her sister staring full on into her eyes. She sat there in shock. Myan never made eye contact, ever.
“…Ty…” Myan repeated, still staring into Tyhana’s eyes. “…It ok…it ok…”
Tyhana burst into a fresh wave of tears, but this time they were happy tears that flowed freely over her cheeks. | | 0 @ 11-11-2003 03:59 Egginator | 15,397 posts
| aw...don't have time to read them now but i will...i like stories...more than poetry cuz i can actually understand it! ooh and i have one that i wrote last year, but it's on the other computer... | | 0 @ 11-11-2003 04:48 becky_g | 377 posts
| thats sooooo awesome!!!!!! the talent of writing must run in your family!! i like it!! very much so. but i wanna know what happens next.. why does she all of a sudden make eye contact? and why does she say its ok.. its like shes speaking normally...
very very good
good stuff people!! keep up the good work!! | | 0 @ 11-11-2003 05:08 Rass | 5,430 posts
| well it's a short story, it's supposed to leave you going "and then what" but that's the end of the story
the reason she makes eye contant and says "it ok" is because it's one of those things most autistic children dont do, but when they do make eye contact it's with someone who is very important to them and they love and such, she says "it ok" because it IS okay, autistic children are bright but they are simple, myan is alive therefore it's all okay, she could talk before anyhow just not well, not at her age level of course | | 0 @ 11-11-2003 05:58 Just_Jamie | 12,874 posts
| okay...my turn...this is the only short story I've ever written that I actually like.
The Gray
She answered the phone. Brief pleasantries were exchanged, arrangements were made. She hung up. She sighed, and walked to the window, looking out. It was gray. Overcast. Everything looked dirty. The pavement was still wet from the melting of the recent snow. Some small clumps remained in isolated areas, stained gray by the exhaust from passing cars. All of the colors seemed muted. She sighed. Gray. She turned, and walked listlessly to her room. She looked at her books, trying to decide if she wanted to read or not. Another sigh. She moved on to her CD collection, trying to decide if there was any music she wanted to listen to. Gray. Everything was gray. With another sigh, she flopped onto her bed, and stared at the wall, listening to the sounds of her too empty house.
He had wanted to stay…hadn’t wanted to leave her alone. She had told him to go, reassured him that she was fine, would be fine. He had looked as though he didn’t believe her, but he left anyway. There was nothing more for him to say. There was nothing left to be said.
Another sigh. She rolled off the bed, landing lightly on her feet. She stood, and walked back into the living room. She moved robotically to the television…the last movie they had watched was still in the VCR. Wizard of Oz. She started it again, and made her way to the couch, thinking that perhaps the lively colors of her favorite movie would brighten her mood. She sat there, staring at the screen, until she noticed numbly that the movie had ended. She sighed again, and stood. She wandered into the kitchen, still over-flowing with food left from the funeral. She began to make coffee. When it was done, she poured herself a cup, and took a sip. Another sigh. Even the coffee tasted gray.
She made her way up the stairs. Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, she stared at the familiar mess. Her grandmother had wanted to go through her mother’s things, box them up. She had said no, that she would take care of it. Now she stood there, staring. She could see her mother frantically digging through the clothes, looking for the perfect ensemble for her latest date. She could see her bouncing on the bed, a wide grin on her face. She could hear the echoes of her mother’s laughter. She walked to the bed, and curled up on it, her mother’s blanket, the one made from her baby clothes, wrapped tightly around her. At last they came. The tears she had been waiting to shed. Sobs wracked her body, and she cried. Cried for her mother, for her friend, her companion. Cried for herself. She cried for the gray. She finally cried herself to sleep.
When she awoke, the sun was streaming through the window, and onto her tearstained face. Her head hurt, and her eyes itched. She sat up, and looked around, noticing that the gray seemed to have faded slightly. She could pick out bits of color in the clothes. Her mother’s red blouse. The blue skirt. The sparkly clips. With a sigh, she stood, and began to sort the clothes into dirty and clean. She took the dirty clothes to the laundry room, and started a load, before returning to the bedroom.
It was dark by the time she finished. The room was clean, the bed made, the clothes folded, and neatly put away, ready to be sorted through yet again, ready to be boxed up, and donated to some charity or another. She turned off the light, closed the door, and walked downstairs. The coffee she had made that morning was burnt, the sour smell permeating the first floor of the house. She grabbed her coat, and walked out the door.
When she got there, the other customers fell silent. She could feel them looking at her. The looks were full of sympathy and caring. But she knew…knew that they had already gone on with their lives, the way she would now have to. She could feel the grayness seeping back in. She squared her shoulders, and walked to the counter. The man standing there silently handed her a cup of coffee, and offered her a tentative smile. She took a swallow of the coffee, her mother’s voice in her ears. Setting the cup down, she straightened her back, looked him in the face, and forced herself to return the smile. “Thanks, Luke.”
His smile widened, and his worried eyes showed his relief. “Sure.”
The grayness receded a little bit more. Just a little, but it was enough. She knew that someday, it would be gone entirely, though her life would never again be as bright.
| | 0 @ 12-11-2003 04:10 sexyladee | 2 posts
| wow you guys are all really good ...i write but im not THAT good..im impressed | | 0 @ 05-12-2003 03:12 mannolewen | 730 posts
| this isn't finished but please tell me what you think....you could also email me (canadiandevil666@hotmail.com) thank-you
(Untitled)
“1, 2, 3.” I started listing off numbers. She didn’t understand but she was afraid. “8, 9, 10.” She got really worried and started to clue in.
“Stop! Please stop! What are you doing? Sam please just listen.” The messages began to go blurry but I could tell she was scared. She finally took a guess at what I was doing and was right. “Sam it’s not worth it. If you are taking pills stop. For the love of God STOP!” I began to cry as I looked at the screen. Everything was so sore and so numb. There was so much hate and anger. I didn’t know what else to do.
“18, 19, 20, 21” I finished typing as my door opened. I stood up and went to the top of my stairs. I didn’t realize what was going on all I knew is that the pain was gone. It was going to be gone it wasn’t going to come back. It was gone, forever. I looked down the stairs and saw the terrified faces of my two friends, Josh and Lauren. They had a look of fear and discust. I knew they were talking to me but the words were so distant. I couldn’t understand anything. I felt as if I was floating. It was the straingest high I had ever felt. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t feel. Everything began to fade. I was getting tired and cold. I needed to go to sleep.
I walked to my room and tried to go to bed. I closed the door and fell. I was up against my door and couldn’t move. My bed was so close and still so far. I could see it there with it’s warm cozy blankets. Over the bottom edge of my bed I saw a burgendy blanket. I remembered Lauren giving that to me on my birthday. I had to wait all night for it but it was well worth the wait. One of the best presents ever.
Memories poured over my mind and I started to think it could be the end. I noticed everything fading again. I started to get afraid. I felt a push on the door. It was Lauren. I knew she cared so why was I doing this to her. It wasn’t really happening. It was a dream. I was fine. Just cold, very cold. I sat and shivered as she came in and turned on my light. My vision slowly came back and it wasn’t quite as blurry. I /was/ fine. Nothing was wrong. She just sat and looked at me. I felt terrible. I seemed to fail her again. She had that same look of discust on her face. I heard my dad come up the stairs. He had brought me home some stuff for my project I was supposed to be working on.
“Sam, you stuff is here. Are you ok?” He asked cheerfully. He didn’t expect anything. I never did anything that met his standards but he would never think that anything would be wrong with me. It really stabbed me in the heart knowing how little he knew about me.
“I’m fine, thank-you.” I managed to get out.
“Ok I’m going back to the shop. Love you.”
“I love you too. Bye.” I was feeling normal again. Kind of dizzy but not terribly. Everything was going to be fine. I t would be perfectly normal. The only thing different would be that I wouldn’t have a head ache for a long time.
“Did you really thing tylonol would do the trick?” Lauren finally said as she held a pill bottle in her hand. She was angry. She seemed to dissaprove. The words scolded me and I knew what I had done was wrong. I knew by her tone that I would be hearing about this for a while. I made a mistake. | | 0 @ 17-02-2004 11:18 fuck_it_up | 121 posts
| nice stories every1!i wrote bout a dozen short stories but this f**kin weather!the bloody rain drentched me work!  | | 0 @ 28-06-2004 01:25 diclowndi | 212 posts
| See Spot swim. See Spot swim fast. Swim, Spot, Swim. SHARK, SPOT, SHARK!!!!
Yay for short stories. | | 0 @ 13-08-2004 17:31 rockchicken | 68 posts
| i loved the story on a fit of darkness it was so capturing heres mine:
kill
This was it, she was gonna do it she had the knife in her hand she was about to kill the most beautiful person in the world with two simple slashes of a knife she moved the knife closer and closer ever so slowly then she brought the sharp stainless steel knife down and slashed right along the wrist of this ravishingly dangerously beautiful person and the same happened to the other wrist a quick slash of the knife and it was all over and in those last few moments of the beautifully ravishing persons life, she had only just realised that suicide was a crime!
wot do u think? |
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