Short stories/poetry (1 Viewer)

[EvoWarrior5]

I'm betting this thread will go down the drain within 2 responses, but just in case there are a few people around here who aren't idiots whose brains are meme-infested 24/7, I thought I'd make a place where people could post honest attempts at short stories or poems. So nothing like "The duck crossed the road but died. End."

It's been a while since I've written anything, so I'll just post the first story I wrote to start us off:

The story:

Spoiler

The Puzzle​

I​

I hold the piece in my hand. I look at it in wonder. Why does it not fit onto the other piece? I have done this before. Just a while ago the pieces would fit together just fine. What is wrong? I walk to Mommy in the kitchen: I show her the piece and I ask her for help. She says something I don’t understand. Is she not going to help me? Then I think of Daddy: he has helped me before. I call for him, but I have not seen him in days. I miss him. I start to cry. I yell for him. He still does not come. Mommy picks me up and walks with me, past where I was just sitting, and sits down on the couch with me. She holds me; her lap is soft, her arms around me. But I cannot stop crying and I keep asking for Daddy. Mommy says ‘Yes, Daddy will come soon’. She kisses me on the head, like she always does. But it feels different. She says he will come, but then why has he not been here for so long?


When Daddy finally arrives, I run to the door happily. Now everything will be alright. Mommy comes as well: they will pick me up and play with me now. But they just start talking. I wait until they are done so they can play with me. Daddy walks through the house and packs a few things into his bag. Then he walks out again. I quickly run after him: where is he going? Mommy picks me up and walks out with me, to Daddy’s car. Excited, I suddenly realise. We are going out for a ride! When we are near the car and Daddy closes the boot, he walks over to us and Mommy hands me over to him. I feel joy. But, why is Mommy suddenly waving at me? She is coming with us, right? Then Daddy walks me to the car, and Mommy is still standing there. I start to cry. I scream at Mommy. I want to say: I’m sorry for not being able to finish the puzzle, please don’t be angry with me! Please come with us! Daddy tries to put me in my seat, but I struggle and try to get to Mommy. He says a few things to me but I cannot hear it. Why is Mommy not coming over here? I don’t understand. We drive off.

​

II​

Daddy puts his keys on a table and says we’re here. Where is here? It is not granny’s house. I have never seen this place before. I ask Daddy where Mommy is, but he tells me that I will go to her again in two days. Why should I go to her then? Why can’t we both go back home now? I cry again, I don’t understand. Daddy picks me up and rubs my back, whispering to me. But it doesn’t help; it’s just not right.


Daddy puts me down. He gives me the pieces of the puzzle and tells me to go on with that. I try to fit one of the pieces onto another, but they won’t fit together. I try to force them onto each other; try to make them fit. But it does not work. I don’t understand why it won’t work. I walk towards Daddy and look up at him. I show him the piece as I see that he has started cooking: a pan is boiling on the stove and he is cutting up carrots. I get confused again: why is he cooking here? Why is he not cooking together with Mommy, as they always do? Is it something I’ve done? Have I been bad somehow?

III​

We’re finally back. I don’t understand why Daddy and I had to stay in that place, but now we’re back home. And Mommy and Daddy and I will be together again. Daddy gets me out of the car and we walk to the house: Mommy is already waiting for us in the doorway. She picks me up and greets me happily. Everything is good again. Daddy and Mommy talk for a while again, I hear my name a few times. I anxiously await the moment we all go inside so that we can play. But that moment does not come. After they’re done talking, Mommy steps inside the house. Daddy walks towards his car. I yell after him: why is he going away? Mommy presses me closer to her, but it does not feel good. I cry louder and louder; Daddy keeps walking away from us. Standing by his car, he looks at me. He is not smiling; his eyebrows are raised. Mommy waves her arm at him and tells him to just go, she will calm me. No, why should she say that? Please don’t go Daddy, please stay here. But he gets inside his car. He drives off.

IV​

I am sitting in my usual spot at home, playing. Mommy is watching TV; Daddy is not here. I ask her why, but she just smiles at me and asks me if it’s working out. Confused, I look back at my puzzle. The pieces are lying separately on the floor. I pick one up as I wonder why Mommy and Daddy are not here together. I look at the piece and slam it into another one a few times. But they just won’t fit together.

Context:

The "protagonist" of the story is my nephew, who, at the time of writing this, was one month short of being two years old. My brother and his girlfriend had just split up, and when I heard the news I could only think of how the child must experience such a change. This is how I imagined a child's mind could work in the circumstances.


I encourage others to come up with something or post old work of theirs, if relevant. Your level of English does not have to be perfect, as long as you give it an honest attempt.

 

[Aokigahara]

Here's my little contribution, tho it's not the best translation as it's sounds way better in french, so i'll post both:

Razor in the sink , and you have nothing in your veins
Kiss my weapon , She'll tell you I love you
A gun in the mouth , as you need oxygen
Search rest in a herd of hyenas

Le rasoir dans l'évier, t'as plus rien dans les veines
Embrasse mon arme, elle te dira je t'aime
Un fusil dans la bouche, t'as besoin d'oxygène
Chercher du repos dans un troupeau de hyènes

 

[Joe Brabo]

Not my own but something I find really beautiful. +10 weeb points for the one to guess where it is from.
Will try to post something of my own tomorrow. I have a bunch written down but it is late already.

Spoiler

How can I repay you, brother mine? How can I expect you to forgive?
Clinging to the past, I shed our blood. And shattered your chance to live.
Though I knew the laws, I payed no heed. How can I return your wasted breath?
What I did not know has cost you dear, For there is no cure for death.
Beautiful mother, soft and sweet, Once you were gone we were not complete.
Back through the years we reached for you, At last it was not meant to be.
And how can I make amends? For all that I took from you?
I led you with hopeless dreams, My brother, I was a fool.
Don't cry for the past now, brother mine. Neither you nor I are free from blame.
Nothing can erase the things we did, For the path we took was the same.
Beautiful mother, soft and sweet, Once you were gone we were not complete.
Back through the years we reached for you, At last it was not meant to be.
My dreams made me blind and mute. I long to return to that time.
I followed without a word, My brother the fault is mine.
So where do we go from here? And how to forget and forgive? What's gone is forever lost. Now all we can do is live.

 

[EvoWarrior5]

Sounds like it could be from FMA.

 

[Viking34]

The scout had me locked in a stare
A melee fight hung in the air
Out came the crits,
and tore me to bits,
No way is this balanced and fair.

 

[OxyGenE]

A gun in the mouth , as you need oxygen

bro you know i'll always be here for you don't do this ;-;

jokes aside i don't have any particular talent in writing in english.
but you guys wrote some quite nice thing nice work ^^

 

[CiroBishop]

I write poems, but I'm shy about them and I don't like to share them.
Well written story, though.

 

[Mertes]

Interesting story, @EvoWarrior5. As a child who has divorced parents myself, I can relate a bit. The only difference was that I was four and a little bit more understanding than younger people would be, so it was a tad bit easier. But I remember days where I just wanted to go to my mom then my dad, then my mom then just wanted them both to be together, cried myself to sleep and what not. It's interesting the way you wrote it, thumbs up for that!

I have my own novel that I've been writing on, but haven't gotten any inspiration lately (or I am just lazy). But, I can provide you all with the WIP version at least. It's a bit long, though, so read if you have time on your hands.

Spoiler: Story

Alright. I’ll begin with saying welcome. This text might not be like any text you’ve read before. My name is Malcolm Smith, I am 43 years old and I live in New Orleans, Louisiana, USA. I had a kid and a wife a while back. Thinking back, I think I’d rather want to live a different life than what I’ve lived so far. I loved my wife and my kid, but the life I was given was not the one I lived up to. I am an author and I worked as a receptionist at Windsor Court Hotel until the incident two years ago. To begin this story will be a hard task as I am not a 100% sure where I should begin. I’ll try my best.


First a little backstory. My father died four days prior to my 17th birthday. He had no connection with my mother anymore therefore all the money went to me after his death. He was a really polite and great businessman in his work and always made sure to put a smile on my face before he left off to work far too early in the morning and came home far too late in the night. My love for my father was unexplainable and even though I had already shown it in any way possible, I still think I could’ve shown him a lot more. My mother is also a really polite person but she hasn’t had the best job. She definitely deserved to have a good job, but her CV just wasn’t good enough. Her job was being a cashier at the nearest local market. Not the best job, but she did enjoy it at least. The pay, however, was really low and often she would come home in stress and run around trying to figure something out until she can’t. Then she just sits down in the living room looking at her mother’s painting that she had made for her. It calms her down and usually makes her cry but it’s no more but happy tears. Everytime I saw this I used to try to comfort her but she mostly just told me it was alright and let me sit beside her and watch the glorious painting.


That’s basically the summary of my parents. In other words they were great parents. I am still sad to this day that my mother decided to leave my dad because of him working his ass off all day. She thought he had cheated on her, but she was too dumb to notice that he was a loyal man and didn’t care about anyone else but her and myself. My dad was really sad and disappointed, but he felt like there was nothing to do about the situation and instead continued with his usual life, which was a good choice.


You’re probably wondering how he passed away. Well, it’s quite a long story so I’ll try to shorten it my best. He was shot in the chest four times. Yes, four times. He was still alive for 14 minutes after the incident, but it was a terrible experience. Also yes, I was there.


My dad decided to take me to work one day to let me see how he handled his business. I wanted to try to get a summer job at his place, so it was a good choice to come with him to work a few days to see how he was working. I was really interested by all the many different things he had to do. Skipping the not-so-important part, as we were walking home a man in early 50s stopped in front of us and asked what my name was. As I answered, the man pulled out a knife but my dad was already prepared and threw himself over the man and pulled him to the ground. My dad was a really muscular man and pretty tall too, so trying to escape his grip would practically be impossible. The one thing that my dad did not notice nor me was that there was a second guy much younger than the other. A second guy with a gun. He told my dad to drop the knife and step away from the older man. He did as he was told and stepped back, standing in front of me to protect me. The younger guy yelled at my dad to make him step away, but my dad refused. I told dad that I knew them and that I could talk to them but he wouldn’t listen and instead yelled back to the strange men.

“I won’t let you reason with my son like that! Do you have anything to say then say it to my face right now or I’ll call the cops!”

The men were not intimidated and the younger person shot my dad once. The older person yelled at the younger one and grabbed the gun. It was a flesh wound. However, as they were about to go grab me my dad jumped over the older guy who aimlessly but by reflex shot my dad three more times in the chest. I screamed and jumped over the younger guy knocking him out. There were now cops in the nearby area that came to the scene as fast as possible and pulled me away. As I heard the ambulance arrive, I saw my dad laying on top of a now unconscious old man.


To this day I am still disappointed in myself. The younger person was a guy I knew who I had apparently failed by showing him another part of myself that he hadn’t seen before. This had angered him deeply which got him to contact his criminal father, who was the older man. My dad literally killed himself to save me. That’s what I have to live with. That’s what I have to remember.


I have gotten off-topic. I am not sure if it was worth it, but it is definitely something that I had to get off my chest. Alright, let’s continue this. The year was 1986, I was 19 years old. I was residing in a house, or villa if you will, near a giant forest. The nearest neighbour was a few miles away. I was pretty isolated, in other words. I always got this strange vibe when walking home from school through the forest. It felt like someone or something was watching me, which was pretty obvious since it was a giant big forest which probably had a lot of wild life. But the vibe was weird and more odd, interesting in a sense. This got me to a mindset that I wanted to find out what it was. I am pretty sure someone or something was lurking in the forest, looking at me each time I went home. Stalker? Most likely not. What would they want from a 19 year old person with nothing left to live for? My life was hanging on a small thread; school. If I completed school in a successful manner, I might have a chance at life. So why would someone want to stalk me? To be honest, I wouldn’t even care if this someone was stalking me. There was nothing they could’ve done to me to cause me more pain than I already have.


-Just show your face already, you piece of shit, I yelled out in the darkness.

No sound. Not even the wind. All I heard were my footsteps and my breathing. I slowly turned back around and kept going towards my house. Hold up. I am not on the path to my house. This is a completely different path. Even worse, this is a completely different forest! Where the heck am I? I had no clue on what was going on anymore. The other second I was in my home forest, but now I was in another one. There was nothing around except for trees and bushes. I guess I had no choice but to call someone. Nope, no telephone lines out here. I was lost and I had no way of going back. I had to follow the path.

 

[JamesWilson]

Watching leaves falling tears me up from my insides
especially those falling on boulevards
especially chestnut leaves
and if kids are around
if it’s sunny
and I’ve got good news for friendship
especially if my heart doesn’t ache
and I believe my love loves me
especially if it’s a day I feel good about people
I’m touched by falling leaves
especially those falling on boulevards
especially chestnut leaves.

 

[EvoWarrior5]

Watching leaves falling tears me up from my insides
especially those falling on boulevards
especially chestnut leaves
and if kids are around
if it’s sunny
and I’ve got good news for friendship
especially if my heart doesn’t ache
and I believe my love loves me
especially if it’s a day I feel good about people
I’m touched by falling leaves
especially those falling on boulevards
especially chestnut leaves.

Is there any symbolism to chestnut leaves that we should be aware of to understand this?

 

[JamesWilson]

Is there any symbolism to chestnut leaves that we should be aware of to understand this?

The poem talks about falling leaves. Falling leaves are a symbol of death, which is very painfull, expecially when you're happy.

I used to always see chestnut leaves when i was a child, i found them very pretty and and as a child I tought they were a symbol of a new life after the winter.

 

[JamesWilson]

Poto poto says the frat when he burns. If the frat burns not, poto poto he says not.

A translation of an italian detto (bergamy state ayy)