Short Story Page One

The girl rose early and slowly, shoulders slumping forward as she rubbed the sleep from her damp eyes. She shed the comforter from her aching form, her bare feet padding against the cool linoleum of the floor as she grabbed her room key before closing the door quietly behind her.

The dorm was uncharacteristically quiet, its morning face expressionless and cool and only just starting to host a light that swelled dishearteningly gray and repentant. The girl flicked the flickering bathroom light on and dampened cold hands under the faucet, splashing water on her face. Her movements were languid and almost dreamlike, wracked with a somewhat jerky quality, and a resistance was omnipresent. Forcefully refusing to meet her gaze, she positioned herself away and returned to her room. Her search was not the slightest bit harried, and she retrieved thickly bound score after score before placing the mass gingerly on her bed. The CD's were already in a neat stack next to her laptop.

She paused by the window, tracing vague patterns across the cold glass before hastily wiping away the obstructing condensation that blanketed the window between battered frames. The outerworld space was flooded with snow extending for as far as she could see. She moved grudgingly as she hid from the tumultuous world, slipping into an aged coat of warmth and shielding her eyes of her indulgences. She chose the first disc she saw, perched rigidly atop the pile. She recognized the familiar boxy writing and lifted it with stiff, shaking fingers. She slid the disc into the computer, giving in to her barriers. The beginning overcame her at once, and she let the ghosts curl through.

Proposal for short story

Exposition:
My story takes place in Aichi, Japan.  Where a typical high school student just got of school for the summer.  His name is Mikey and he is a chill guy.  He was born into a very rich family, where both his parents are lawyers.  He is a part time marijuana dealer.  His parents think he will end up being on the streets.  He wants to prove them wrong, but he doesn't know how to.

Inciting incident:
One Day Mikey is chilling with his good friends in the cuts.  While they were smoking, Mikey's dealer suddenly appears.  His name is Ken Taro and the biggest badass in Japan.  He tells him that he is low on stock this month and he has to pay double.  Mikey argues with him telling him, he's being ridiculous.  Ken Taro not being a patient person busts his samurai sword and cuts Mikey's friend's head off.  Mikey being scared tells Ken Taro that he will pay him double.

Rising Action:
So Mikey had to get serious about his problem.  So he sees this giant African and asks him if he wants weed.  The African dude said he would trade him 2 grams of weed for  2 grams of opium.  Mikey being stoned wasn't thinking straight so he agreed.  The African looked very happy and tells that he has to smoke it right now.  Mike told him no.  The African guys pulls out a spear and threatens him.  Mikey pulls out his chopsticks.  The African guy, Zoholo, laughs at him and cuts his chopsticks.  Mikey being scared decided to smoke the opium.  He gets super high and start to hallucinate.  He thinks he is giant rice ball fight and starts throwing rocks.  One of the rocks hit someone.

Climax:
The rock hits Chris Stink, and everyone says he's a hero.  Chris Stink was a criminal who would talk too much and rob people.  She was the number one wanted criminal in all of Japan. Mikey still being hella high ran away. After running he meets with his brother, Ren, he learns that his mom just had an heart attack and he needs him to go to the hospital with him.

Falling Action:
He gets to the hospital, but he doesn't see his mom there.  His brother told him that their mom has died.  Mikey starts cursing in to himself and yells that he would do anything for her to come back.  His brother tells him that he should do good in school and that would make mom really proud.

Conculsion
So Mickey decides to change his attitude and start to study over the summer for school.  He stopped dealing and smoked all of his weed.  He had forgotten about the deal with Ken Taro. Then one day while Mikey was walking to the store for some food, a mysterious car rolls up and out of the car a samurai sword cuts Mikey's head off.

Michelle first page of short story

The sun is just peeking out from behind the clouds and shines its beautiful golden rays through the windows of Carson’s brownstone in Brooklyn, New York. He rolls over in bed, blinks the sleep out of his eyes and squints at his alarm clock. It reads 6:15 am. By 6:20 he is in the kitchen with half a bagel in the toaster and a pot of coffee brewing away. BING, his bagel pops out of the toaster, toasted just long enough to become crisp enough that it will maintain its crispiness under a thick layer of fluffy cream cheese. He settles down in his favorite chair with his piping hot cup of coffee in one hand and his perfectly toasted bagel in the other. The familiar voice of Charlie Rose, CBS morning news anchor, fills the room. The police are on the search for a man who has been going around all over New York City stealing everything in sight. From a pack of gum from Safeway to a Porsche from the dealership, this “man” is a master but upon review of the security tapes, only appears as an outline of a person. This mystery has yet to be solved and the answer is lying within someone roaming the streets of New York. Carson had to overpower that little devil inside his head telling him that he could stay and watch the rest of the news story because he had never been late to work before and it was too nice of a day to get in trouble with his boss. At precisely 6:40 he was out the door and heading down the steps on his way to the subway station. From 2 years of living in Brooklyn, he mapped out the shortest path to the subway station and calculated exactly when he needed to leave in order to walk the nine blocks from his house to the subway station to catch the 6:55 train into the city. As he walked down the street in the crisp morning air, the sun greeting him with open arms, warming him with each step he took. When he got to the corner he noticed something was missing. Something that completes him; something that every single thing on the planet has. It walks when you walk, it sleeps when you sleep and it eats when you eat.  His curiosity was quickly wiped from his mind as he entered the subway station and saw his train coming to a stop. Sweat dripped from his brow as he began a mad dash for the train, squeezing between the doors just as they slammed shut. 

Short Story page 1

Liverpool can be a lonely place on a Saturday night, and no one knows that better than 

Dick Parkin. Dick is a sad looking scouse man from south Liverpool, England. And although he wouldn’t openly admit to being an alcoholic, he’s definitely on his way to the local pub right now. Drinking is the only enjoyable activity Dick has discovered in England since his birth 20 years ago. He couldn’t stand the horrible weather of the UK. The sun only poked out from behind the clouds three times a year and more often than not he was too sick to enjoy it. He was always sick, ever since he was a child he was bedridden fifty percent of the time. His illnesses caused a lot of difficulties in his life including his dropping out of school at age fourteen. It also affected him physically. It stunted his growth to mere five feet and eight inches and also made him very weak and feeble. Those long days at home away from school while his mum was away was when he got into beer and whisky. Alcohol became his best friend early on in his life, it was the friend you’d go to when you wanted to forget all of your stresses. And right now, Dick could really use some stress relief. 

He’s not the best mechanic’s assistant and he doesn’t make that much money doing it 

either, so when his mum kicked him out of the house a while back he was always short on 

money. That was until he joined the Quarrymen. Dick wouldn’t consider the Quarrymen to be a gang, although that’s what people label them as, but rather a social club for deprived young men. A social club that nearly owns all of Southern Liverpool and is in constant trouble with the police. 

Lately, however, the Quarrymen haven’t been making the profit they usually do. Maybe 

they stopped conning as often as they used to or maybe people haven’t paid them their debts but whatever it is it’s making Dick late on his rent. That’s what is making Dick stress, and that’s why he’s heading to a pub on a saturday night when he should be at home asleep. 

Dick approached the pub rattling the few coins he had in his pocket. It wasn’t enough 

for what he wanted, but the owner knew him so he hoped for a discount. He approached the 

building and made a sharp turn through the doors. He made his way past the other saturday 

night drinkers and found his way to a bar stool in the corner where a small group of young men 

sat. 

“Hullo lads!” The boys turned around to greet the deep voice that called onto them. 

“Hey Dick!” The men hollered, grabbing the poor man and squishing him in the middle of 

the group. They all said their hellos and updated him on the current events of their lives. Once they had settled down and all gotten their drinks, one of them got all of their attention. 

“Excuse me lads!” Spoke a young man named James. He waved his hand a little and 

the men silenced and turned towards him. It was a wonder how one person could attract the 

attention of a group of rowdy boys with such ease, but the task seemed like second nature to 

him, and with good reason too. James was the leader of the Quarrymen, although he did not 

create the gang. That title was for Juan Garcín, a spaniard who moved to England a few years back, although he’s content with letting someone else do the dirty work for him. James on the other hand was from london and had a better education then the rest of the boys. 

“I know we came here to have fun and enjoy ourselves-” James was cut off by the 

clamorous groaning that came from the group. “Let me finish now! This is important. It has come to my attention that we have been losing profits.” The others agreed and nodded their heads. “I think I know why. See I’ve been noticing the cops have been moving north lately. So I decided to go check out what’s goin’ on down there. Turns out there’s some bloody gits down there that think they own the place. Call themselves the Prophets!” 

“Yer kidding me!” The lads screeched and scattered looks about each other. 

“This‘s rubbish, Liverpool is our city and those gits carn’t come in here and take over 

like that!” Harry, the youngest of the boys declared rising to his feet and slamming his fist to 

the table. “We ought ta do sumthing!” His accent was thick and almost sounded scottish. His 

face appeared older than he was. His cheekbones were sharp and his eyes were sharper. His eyebrows were bushy and at a permanent angle to where a scowl was always on his face. 

James placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “That’s why I called this get together here. 

See I have a plan!” The other boys leaned in close to James to hear. 

Short Story, Page 1

Everything began on that early morning.

Just like every year, 15-years old Alexis and her parents spends the summer at their family beach house.

A silver Honda Civic pulls up in front of a white beach house. The back door opens to reveal Alexis, a black-haired teenage girl. Alexis steps out of the car with a large Speedo duffel bag slung over her shoulder and waits for her parents to make their way over to the trunk to get the rest of their luggage. After unloading everything, Alexis goes to her room and settles down. Her room has a clear view of the blue ocean and of the room of the house next door.

Her nice Saturday morning begins with waking up to some strange noises outside her window. She pulls the covers over her head in attempt to block out the noise. When that failed to solve her problem, she groggily drags herself over to the window.

“How noisy,” Alexis complains under her breath.

“Isn’t the sea beautiful?” A stranger’s voice reaches her ears. Alexis turns her head towards the house next door, only to find a boy her age leaning against the window pane and smiling pleasantly at her. Alexis observes him for a moment, taking in his dark brown hair, his hazel brown eyes, and his athlete built.

“Hi!” He extends his hand across the small gap between the two houses and shakes her hand.

“Wha…what was that noise?” Alexis questions him, shocked by his forwardness. He points to something below her and she looks down. The ground is littered with seashells, all shaped and colored differently and in a pile outside her window. She leans down to pick a heart shaped seashell from the collection.

“A gift for the new neighbor!” The strange boy says with a cheeky smile plastered on his face, “isn’t it pretty? I spend the whole night looking for them. You can wear that one as a necklace; it would look nice on you.”

Alexis tears her gaze from the seashells and glances at the boy, “how did you find these? Every time I look for seashells they are never in strange shapes like these?” She stares at the dolphin shaped seashell necklace hanging around his neck.

“You mean this one?” He tugs at the dolphin necklace, “this one’s custom made, I really like dolphins!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he notices the longing look that she has on the necklace. With a smile, he reaches behind his neck, undid the clasp, and places it in Alexis’ hands, “for you, since you seem to like it so much.” Getting over the initial shock of how generous this boy is, Alexis remembers that she still doesn’t know his name,

“You still haven’t introduced yourself yet,” she prompts.

“Oh, my name’s Jason, you?”

“Alexis.”

“Nice you meet you, Alexis,” once again Jason reaches over to shake her hand.

It was this strange morning that Alexis met a boy named Jason.

[1] Short Story

During the summer, when the heat became unbearable, Bo and I would sit under the shade of the Tilia trees, sucking absentmindedly on ice cubes and whistling at the girls who walked by, laughing as sweat poured down our backs. Those days were filled with the simplicity of adolescence: we pushed each other in lakes, chased each other until we collapsed, and dated more girls that we could count. There was hardly a time when we were not together, and prosperity filled the air; Father was bold in his career, and Ma smiled while making lemonade and bread. Days moved by quickly, blurring together into a bundle of happiness that seemed never-ending. It was impossible to imagine anything different; we lived in the most powerful empire in the world, and we were of a superior race.

Bo, though barely passing school, was always naturally fun and still had his interesting sense of humor. Father said that he would rely on me to make the money for the family when I was older, and I didn’t mind. For once, it was nice to be ahead of Bowen in some way, when everything seemed to come so naturally to him without having to fight for it. There was an aura of magnetism that followed him where he went; while I normally struggled to maintain a simple conversation, Bo would make people fall in love with him in five minutes; he was eccentric, genuinely loving, and fascinating. 

The first time I felt equal to my brother was when I was seventeen; he was only fifteen, and Father had gotten a chemistry tutor for the both of us. The equations naturally made sense to me, and watching Bo finally struggle gave me a strange sense of accomplishment. One day, when he hadn’t shown up to tutoring, I found him afterwards curled up deep in the grove behind our house, looking remarkably small compared to the tree that towered over him. For the first time in Bo’s life, he looked insignificant compared to another. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said softly, voice cracking. “How can Dad scold me for not getting this easily, like you can?”

 I couldn’t say anything, and instead I ran down to the corner store and paid for popsicles with the only five Pfennig that Father had given me in two years. Though nothing else was communicated between us, the competitive air I felt around Bo had vanished. That was the year when I learned that it was impossible for anybody to be perfect. No matter how incredible someone seemed, there would always be one thing that they struggled with, whether it be prominent in their life or not. I realized that that was made us so, irrevocably human beyond any means. 

When the Kaiser had declared war on Russia, Father insisted we join the army. Bo and I were filled with patriotism as we both applied for jobs at chemists at a factory in Kiel, by the sea. It was a time of excitement for us both; our conversations were filled with increased vigor and gaiety.

Cat's Short Story Page 1

Grandfather Clock

By: Cat Supawit

Dust danced in the meager light that shone through the one broken window of Argus’ Little-Corner Antique Shop. The rays bounced and cascaded along the old furniture of the store. It was a sight to behold at any given time, but as soon as the creaking Grandfather clock struck twelve, every single ray of light seemed to point at a simple wooden stand, as if practicing for a show that may never happen. But it did begin, on the day when a crystal bowl was left outside the shop.

I was the sole owner and only worker at the Antique Shop, so I could open up whenever I felt like it. The morning I found the bowl, was like any other morning; I got up, went to the corner cafe with the pretty waitress, and then opened up shop 2 hours later than the hour sign said on the door. Honestly, I almost stepped on the bowl before I noticed it was there. It was an old thing. Scratched up and dull, probably not worth anything at all. Maybe that was why the bowl’s owner had just left it there, they knew I wouldn't buy it from them. I picked it up and stared at my reflection as I walked into the shop; Curly brown hair, hazel eyes, that jagged scar on my left eyebrow from a game of tag gone wrong. The sight almost depressed me. I was such an average-Joe, with a basic high school education and a Psychology degree that I never did anything with. The only memorable thing about me was the fact that I owned the only antique shop in town. My dad had named the store after me, so I suppose it was only right for me to inherit it, not to mention the debt.