It's almost the new year and I still have yet to do anything that could be deemed... fulfilling. Well, that's gonna change! Tommorow and in the weeks to follow I shall post one story every week (really...?) so that I can get some creative juices flowing! Yeah, I might not live up to my promises, sure, I might not even make it a month, but giving up now will only encourage my... heh... lazy behavior.

To start things up is a short story I thought up while I was on the bus to school, and I hope everyone likes it. It's a story dealing with, what else, the holidays. I hope for it to be a four part story, but I'll guess we'll have to wait and see how long I can keep this up... heheh...

Next time! "A Gift of Innocence"

Sounds great, I look forward to reading your short story. :thumbsup:

Thanks, but don't expect much ^^;
Well, took a while to plan, but here it is. A bit of an exposition, so forgive me if it's not too exciting.
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A Gift of Innocence: Part One

My glove-covered hands on cold glass, my legs right beside one another in an effort to keep warm, my eyes set on the treasure just beyond the other side of my reflection. I could feel the snow falling down on my head, melting slowly as time went on, but it didn’t bother me one bit. I had to be home by six, that meant I had two more hours left.

I could hear the patter of footsteps behind me come and go, crowds of people in the distance passing by, but did I care? Not at all. The sight of it made me feel all numb and inside, I could’ve sworn that my heart skipped a beat or two. This was heaven. So nice, what a warm feeling. I was trembling with excitement, a dumbstruck look on my face that would not leave. Nothing in the world could’ve broken the spell that was cast upon me. It wasn’t possible. That’s what I honestly believed.

Then the world separating my winter fantasy and reality shattered.



“Is that girl… actually serious…?”

Huh?

“I know, right! She’s been in fronna that toy store since forever, actually freakin’ me out a bit…”

What?

“She’s a giant compared to those children.”

Children…?

“Can’t be an elementary student, that’s for sure.”

“Are you saying she’s a high-school student?”

“Ha! Why woulda highschooler be stalkin’ a toy store?”

“Hm…”

…



I slowly removed my palms from the ice cold surface and shook the my head to wake myself. The spell having been shattered and my mind in working order again, I looked around me to find little kids staring at the very glass case that captivated me the same. Ten of them. Each and every single one no taller than four feet.

They couldn’t have been older than six…

The voices probably continued their conversation, or rather, investigation, trying to figure out why someone older than the age of twelve would still interested in things deemed “childish”. They would have gone into detail about when someone reaches maturity, when one has to let go of their childhood in order to carry out their duties as an adult. One of them would talk about how they never believed in Santa Claus, the other apply science and physics to the whole concept of a man flying across the world in one night. It would’ve gone on and on. Did it actually?



I wouldn’t know...


I headed for home...


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And thus ends part one... my hands hurt...
Hope this didn't waste anyone's time :laugh:

*Gate's approval earned*

:thumbsup:

Really, now ^^;
Thanks for the approval, though, nice to know it's at least readable.

It's very good. :)

This one's a bit late due to me moving, please forgive me.
It's also a bit ranty, but I hope for the best.
Hope you enjoy!
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A Gift of Innocence: Part Two

Claire Page
Dec 13, 19--
English, Period 4

Forgotten Fantasy


Fairytales. Fairytales and daydreams. Life, reality, pales in comparison to the stories that we’re told as children. Each and every single step taken in the world of fantasy is exciting and full of magic. In this “reality”, when you walk out the door on a Saturday evening, you’ll just be on your way to see your friends, see a movie, maybe even just to take a walk around town. You never meet a mysterious stranger one day that will be suddenly greeting you with a smile on their face the next. You don’t meet your true love by turning a corner and colliding into them. Call yourself lucky if you even manage to find a nickel on the sidewalk. It’s the way of life, boring. Predictable.

Normal people are used to this everyday occurrence, looking down on those that wish for… something more. Why? Is it because idealism is now a word easily substituted for childishness? Is it truly that hard to grasp the idea of wanting a better life? A sane man enjoys indulging himself in the same routine over and over again while an insane man desires a life worth living? It’s wrong to follow a dream?

Children are seen as irresponsible, stubborn, and obnoxious. Blind. Thinking the world will go out of it’s way to make them happy. The adults that watch these same children play on the swings and slides, laughing and smiling, say that they have it easy, that they are the ones that’ll break and suffer when they discover the true ways of life. The ones that learn to “grow up” will be lawyers, politicians, scientists, every successful occupation you can think of. The others? A life of failure and disappointments. All because they believed in Santa.

Consider this, these little kids, the ones that spend their days playing make-believe and their nights waiting for the tooth fairy, they could care less about anything else. Not a care in the world.

War over land and power? Why would you fight over something that you can share?

They don’t understand spats about silly things like recognition or politics, they try to live life to the fullest. They truly believe in miracles, knights in shining armor, dragons and fairies, true good and true evil. Fairytales, cartoons, books, and comics, they all teach children much more than a trained educator ever could. While adults make a fuss over everything, children just cry and forget about it a few minutes later.

I want a life of excitement and adventure, who wouldn’t? Does this make me insane? If wanting a better life now is a symptom for madness then tie me up and throw me in an asylum. People that throw away their dreams in order to climb the ladder of success are as good as dead to me. The second they let go of that dream, whatever it may have been, they threw away the one thing that gave them hope, their innocence. The gift of innocence.







“Welcome home Claire, honey! How was school?”

I slowly held up my essay, hands clutching tightly onto the top, my head hung like a puppet with it’s strings cut. Defeated. The essay had been written on by the teacher in dark red ink in the top left corner.



C+ Not realistic
Merry Christmas.
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Don't let this get'cha down! Happy Holidays!

Hmm, intresting. :)

Thank you! ^^
Just wanted to try something different for a change.

Very interesting story! I'm looking forward to more of it.

The story's well written, I'm also looking forward for more. :clap:

Looking back on it now... heh... maybe a bit too much to handle...
Putting a hold on this story... untill the Holidays... maybe another will work untill then. ^^;

The following story is about a young boy in high school walking home. No idea for a title.

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It seems like the only way to open a story that’s in first person is with an internal monologue.

I thought, as my mind started to wander during the walk home from school.

Those characters always ask their selves a stupid question at the start and come off as depressed philosophers until the very end. Idiots. It doesn’t make any sense, why question something just out of nowhere when you’ve already had plenty of time to answer it beforehand?

The last of the eight hours of classes had been literature. We discussed the structure of a novel and how to properly begin one. The most common techniques were drawn up on the white board at the head of the room to serve as examples. After the initial lesson, the class was then assigned to write up a short story in first person perspective about a character (be it ourselves or made-up) and his or her life. Our teacher explained that it was to test out our new founded knowledge and ability to speak, as we were to read them aloud near the end of the period.

It was almost thirty-five minutes into the hour before someone volunteered (meaning extra credit) to read their paper in front of the whole class. That certainly got the ball rolling. Soon enough half of the students were already done, either proud or embarrassed of their performance. I sat back in my chair and relaxed. My turn would be tomorrow. For now, I would just listen to presentations and adjust mine if someone happened to think up something I never thought of. That didn’t happen.

While the quality of the writing differed from person to person, there was one thing I noticed that was consistent throughout. Each and every one that was read started with the phrase “I’ve always wondered…” or “Throughout my live I’ve always questioned…”.

I’m pretty sure the idea was pretty interesting the first time around, a protagonist who questions life only to be answered later on in an ironic way of sorts. I get why it’s used so much, foreshadowing and stuff like that. But it’s been abused to death. Nowadays every book, movie, TV show and videogame begins that way. And not only is it stupid, it’s impossible to replicate in the real world, because you never know when the “story” actually begins!

My head started to hurt.

Even though my house wasn’t far, the walk probably took a total of about forty minutes. My mind was wrapped around the entire concept of kicking off a story with a simple question that my body slowed down just to let me think it through. Why would anyone ever think of a question out of nowhere?

When I finally got home I went straight to sleep. Four o’clock in the afternoon was good enough for me. As I slept, though, the topic always came back. The dream I had would always be me debating with some bodiless voice about the whole concept, he’d argue that it builds background and invites the reader into the character’s train of thought, I’d argue that it serves nothing more than to introduce the plot and effectively making the main character seem like an emotional wreck. This continued on for a while.

Then, after the voices stopped, after I at last found that best position for sleeping, and after I’d gotten perhaps an hour or two of real sleep, it hit me. I sprang up in the dead of night, eyes wide and open, and promptly put both of my hands against my forehead. The sheer idiocy of the situation gave me a headache.

“…Idiot. I’m a complete idiot.”

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Speaking of idiots, anyone happen to know how to rename this whole thread?
Just asking.

the moment i realized reality can destroy my dreams, i went MLIA!

the last one, seemed like you actually had some kind of experience with. pretty descriptive.

I'd be lying if I said I've never imagined the world as book. :laugh:

Been working on this story for... maybe about three to four years, finally decided to write an introduction of sorts. It was real hard to think up an opening scene, but this one seemed to get the point across the best. A story revolving around a boy who tries to become the main character of a story.

Confusing enough?

Oooo I really like that idea. Great way to start off a story. Keep going with it!

Amazing Hon, Really sucked me in.

To change the title of the thread, go to 'edit' on any of your own posts and you should be able to change it. If not, I can change the title of the thread, just tell me what you want it changed to.