Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Short Story

Michael had his leg pinned down by the burnt log, and his other leg was of no help after taking a bullet wound to the knee.
Michael had a rifle by his side, and an Irish soldier on the other side, also pinned down by wooden beams, except half his body was immobile, and it wasn’t wait down or up, but sideways.
“Why don’t you want to shoot?” The Irishman asked.
Michael looked up to him, “I won’t have anyone else to talk to me if I did. After all, that’s why you aren’t shooting me too, are you?”
The Irishman chuckled, “actually no. It’s because I don’t have a firearm with me, but come to think of it, yeah I wouldn’t shoot you. Your name is Mike?”
Michael nodded, “for a half-crushed man, your eyesight is quite good.”
“Well, there aren’t many names that start with ‘M’ and have 7 letters in them.”
Michael smiled, “what about you? You have a name?”
“My name,” The Irishman laughed, “My name’s Michael, too. If I could lift my arm I’d show you my name tag.”
Michael smiled to himself, “You name’s Michael? What a small world we live in, we got to have new names for ourselves now.”
“You’re from the British Army?”
“Yep,” Michael replied, “You are from the IRA, aren’t you?”
“Needless to say,” The Irish Michael replied, “you know why you’re fighting with us?”
British Michael shook his head.
The Irishman continued, “Me neither, I guess that doesn’t matter, does it?”
The British soldier asked, “It does matter, I mean…we need to know what we’re fighting for before we fight.”
“No we don’t,” the Irishman laughed, “Mankind has always relished in fighting, no matter the reason. We always find a reason to fight, even if it’s over a drop of stained water.”
“We can’t do anything to stop conflict then?”
Louder laughter came from the Irishman, “We can, if the world unites under one competent ruler, who knows what is right and wrong, who can work 24/7, who understands everyone on earth.”
Suddenly there were sounds coming from outside, they were of British accent, shouting for survivors.
Michael shouted, “OVER HERE!”
The rescue squad shouted their reply, and footsteps were heard.
Michael asked, “Where can I find this kind of person?”
The Irishman replied, “There should be a few places in London, look for the buildings with the crosses on them.”
The British rescue squad came in, and the first one who was in there asked, “Hey, who you talking to? You better not go psycho on me now.”
As they proceeded to remove the log on Michael’s leg, he stared at the place where the Irishman lay.
Or used to lay, just a few seconds ago.

Labels: Short Stories

Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Short Stories

Hi.
I don’t have a name, no one gave me a name, no one bothered to give me a name.
But I don’t mind, I don’t need a name.
People often regard me as a “Godlike” figure, someone who controls what happens in the story. In actual fact, I don’t really predict what happens in the story, but rather…I can’t explain it, let me say it slowly.
In some stories, I know what happens, and of course I can predict who does what and what happens next.
In other stories, I form the story myself, and I see how the characters react and I react back with many other situations.
In MOST stories, I am not there, and I am watching the characters interact with each other.
I guess you should know me by now, please remember me next time you read a book. =]

Labels: Short Stories

Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Short Stories

He sat next to her, watching a movie on a laptop. He always downloaded movies illegally, but never got caught, and that was how he liked it everytime.
Next to him, Amanda slept, with nothing apart from her clothes to keep her warm. the pink shawl was no help against the air-conditioning of the room. James had no idea why he had agreed to follow her to the empty gallery. Of course, it being in school, it was always open and available for student use, but not many people used it anyway.
James looked at Amanda, he definately had no idea why he skipped school just for this, and it wasn't because of the free movies he had to watch. It had to be something more, something that probably was proportionate to the meaning of life itself.
By this time, James had completely ignored the movie, and was thinking to himself. In just three days, he had built a friendship with Amanda, and had shared with her more than he shared with his best friends. Three days, and it was enough to make him feel comfortable around her.
Amanda was silent, she didn't snore, and looked sweet under the dim light. James took out his earpieces, and knelt next to her.
There was something about this girl that made him feel different, and even though he had a girlfriend, she wasn't able to make him feel this way.
James bent over to her face, and with hesitation at every second, touched her lips with his.

Labels: Short Stories

Friday, September 05, 2008
Short story

I have a new story! And it seems very flip flop...you decide.


She knocked on his door, and was hoping for an answer.
Like what the bible predicted, the door opened, and a man was standing there, looking surprised at her.
“Stella?”
“Hey, Mike,” She answered, “can I, like, go in?”
“Sure, sure,” Michael said, and let her in.
Stella put her bag on his couch, and sat next to it. Michael seemed even more confused about this situation when she sighed out loud.
“Something wrong, Stella?” He asked.
Stella turned to him, “not really, could I use your toilet?”
Michael gave the green light, and she proceeded with her bag.
Once she was in there, she quickly closed the door, placed her bag on the sink and started rummaging through it. She tried to make as little noise as possible and pulled out a lot of things like lipstick, wallet and cash.
Finally she found it, a plastic bag which had white powder in it. She knew what it was, and she didn’t want Michael to know about it, at least not for now.
She ripped the packet open, and was about to consume it when the door was knocked upon, “Stella? You okay in there?”
Stella was so shocked she almost dropped her ‘treasure’. She quickly responded, “I’m fine, Mike, don’t come in!”
“But Stella, what if you…”
“Don’t come in!”
Then silence, and Stella knew the coast was clear. Instinctively she opened her mouth to welcome the powder. That was when it happened.
The door opened, and Michael was there, staring at her.
“Stella? I was worried about the noise…what the?”
Stella took a step back, her face now devoid of blood supply, “look, Mike, it does not seem like what it is, I can…explain…”
Michael ignored her pleas and grabbed the packet, in a flash it was gone down the sink. “I told you not to buy that anymore!” He shouted.
“I know! But this is the last time…at least it WAS the last time till you disposed of it! You know how much I spent on that?” Stella rebutted.
“It isn’t right! It’s not you!”
Stella was getting uptight, “I…I can’t stop! I just…it’s not going to kill me!”
“It will!”
And at this moment, Stella lost it, “why do you even CARE if I die or not? Like your whole world revolves around me! YOU don’t understand what I am going through!”
Michael held her arms, “I understand, I can help you, let me help you!”
“NO!!!”
Stella pushed him away, “I can help MYSELF! I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S HELP! No one bothers anyway, no one can save me!”
“I can, and I will.”
“SHUT UP!”
Stella ran out of the apartment, and down the corridor, crying as she went by the doors. All she could see was her past life, how she ran from home, got into drugs, made the wrong friends and now, she was paying for it.
Just why did God made her anyway, if He knew what she was going to turn out to be.
She just kept running, crying loudly as she went. She did not even hear Michael shouting behind her, or knew that he was chasing her.
All she could think of, was God being the ultimate mastermind for her plight. He was the one who gave her this life, gave her this body. She hated it.
Then she slipped on her own footing, and fell down.
She got up to a kneeling position, and just cried even more.
Michael ran up to her, and stopped just behind her, all she said were three words that probably could summarize her thoughts.
“Save my life…”

Labels: Short Stories

Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Short story

Right right, I wrote this while I was in class. I named it ambition, I don't know why but yeah.

And I realised I seeme to be blogging less about myself...but that ain't true, read between the lines.

Labels: Short Stories

Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Short story

I have written a short story, please post comments (constructive comments) and also I will post my notes for the story afterwards.
*I haven't given it a title yet.



The hall was empty, save the pillars which gave an eerie feel. The moonlight shining through the broken windows completed the ambience.
He tormented me.
The gun rested in his hand, blood dripping from his fist. A body lay on the ground, and the perpetrator stood at his side a few meters away.
I loved him as my own.
“Why?” The girl by his side wept, crawling towards the body and trembling at the sight, “Why?”
I gave him everything, I trusted him.
The girl reached the body, and she shook him, trying to wake him up from his eternal slumber. The standing man dropped his gun, the sound echoing through the halls, ricocheting from every corner.
I hated him.
“Justin…why? WHY?!”
He gave me strength, he gave me thought.
Justin walked over to be in the view of the girl; she glared at him, tears flowing down her pale and gentle face. “Justin, he wanted to help you…why did you…why did you…”
He gave me a life to live.
“Why?” Justin stood by the girl, “I don’t think that should be the question now, Alexius, not why, not why…”
Justin stepped towards her, closer and closer, and then said.
“Not why, Alexius…But WHAT did you not do about it…”
A gun appeared into his hand, and its nozzle aimed right at her head.

Labels: Short Stories