I'm sure I'll share it eventually, I'll fast run out of the stories to share if I don't write any more soon!
But I have a question. If your phone line is cut, when you pick it up, does it make any sound? Is there a specific dial tone for a cut line, or would it be silent? And do other people get excited when they are writing things, especially when it is high intensity drama. I feel like I'm actually there.
Edit Well I've finish a rough draft of the story, and it's only 348 words over the limit (I'm sure they won't mind...). Now I just have to think of title for the story. Now word counts are frustrating, but thinking of a title, is a whole other level of frustration!
It's time for another short story! This story was written, once again in English, and this time we had to create a story based on some picture our teacher placed on the board. There were a number of pictures, and we only had to take inspiration from one of them. The picture I took inspiration from (I'm going to make it a spoiler, because I'm sure it will influence your opinion of what is about to happen, so I'd say to read it after the story, but this is your choice)a picture of businessmen wearing suits, and holding briefcases fighting in a boxing ring. As always it's a pretty bizarre story, but it's actually a story I'm quite proud of because I quite like it. I hope everyone enjoys it, and let me know what you think!
EDIT: This story has been removed since I intend to enter it in a short story competition after some editing. Sorry!
Just a few notes, now that you have read this story. It was written in 2009, so maybe somehow I was influenced by the world financial crisis (even if I was only 14-15), which is why unemployment is so high. Don't ask how I got the idea (or more specifically a lame name) for a 'pigeonfeon' or why he rode a horse called Yertul (Yertul the turtle, maybe?). It reminds me a bit of 'The Hunger Games' but I hadn't read the book at that time. And sorry, it once again ends with suspense!
You have a very impressive imagination, Daniel :). I enjoyed this! It's always interesting to see 'ordinary' human beings being invited to behave in a manner taking them back to more primal roots. And your men fighting in business suits certainly achieves that. The use of the horse and carrier pigeon are very amusing, too! I'd kind of had the impression that we were in a slightly more technologically advanced society than our own, but reading about pigeons and horses made me far less sure of that. Anyway, I look forward to reading more of your work - it's always a pleasure to take a ride in your universes :)
Oh, and: one day, I expect another installment, explaining what happens during the interview!! Sigh. You and your endings. (Having said that, the other day I wrote a short story which had an ending as confusing as yours. I even dedicated it to you in my Writersmerge thread :P - so see? You're having an effect on us all!)
Well I envision this as some sort of future version of the world, so there is more technology, but it's so out of reach for most people, so only the very rich can afford it. So people have to go back to 'primal' things, like a horse and pigeon. I guess because no one has a job, no one can afford the technology, but it's still there and still being developed.
And thank you, even if the universes are bizarre and very odd!
Yes, one day I'll have to get around to actually writing 'endings' for all these stories, but that just leaves a possibility of writing more, and then having more open endings! It is a never ending cycle!!!! I think it just stems from firstly, my indecisiveness, and secondly, the fact that there are time constraints on how long I have to work on these stories, and of course word constraints, because even the nicest English teacher, isn't going to want to read tens of thousands of words, when they were expecting 750. And the story I wrote for English most recently, has an even more confusing ending, so I think that just must be my style.
I really enjoyed that story. It felt strange how everything should make sense, but was just a bit off-kilter; particularly then having them go into the boardroom for an ordinary (presumably) job inter view at the end. What is the job, anyway? I can't decide if it should be something strange, or something absolutely basic like a low-level secretary. Also, what happens to the rejects? (I love that after the first test it actually says that they are failures, not just that they failed the test :P )
In general, I like the feel and style of all your writing, and I can see that that type of ending must be just as fun for you as it is frustrating for us. Please keep them coming.
Thanks Bibliophile! I thought it would be interesting to have such a strange series of events be completed with a 'normal' interview. I think the job is just some low-level secretary or something that isn't all that important. They were tested on filing and their typing skills so I guess a secretary would be the best fit, but I do believe it is something that doesn't pay very well. But since it is open ended, the job could be anything.
I guess that is why I like open ended stories (only when writing, when reading, it annoys me as much as all of you when reading my stories) because I can get to where I want to end, and leave what comes after as anything. Absolutely anything could happen, it just depends on what you think happens in the text and how you interpret it, and then your imagination can take you anywhere. I'll try to keep them coming, but I'm starting to run out of stories I have already written, so I'll have to start writing some new material.
We should just rename you Agon, Daniel, because that is always where you seem to leave your stories.
I really loved the world behind this one though--it was so perfectly bizarre and extreme that it made it really fun and engaging. You certainly have yourself one heck of an imagination.
And yes, you had better write some new material. It will be interesting to see how your writing has progressed since most of what you have posted so far seems to be older stuff that you have written years ago. Will you be even more frustrating or not? :P
Thanks Sionainn! I'm really happy you enjoyed it.
Well the story I wrote for English, most recently, probably is even more frustrating, and probably just confusing. The end, is just as annoying as all the last ones, but even more confusing, so I guess I still haven't given up on this 'style'. But when I get around to writing something just for my own enjoyment, I wonder if it will be different. I always wonder whether my writing has progressed and I look back on some of my work and I think, I was a complete idiot back then this is the worst essay/story I've ever seen (not any of the ones I have posted of course) and then I see some other things, and I think, wow, I don't think I could write something like that now, or I'm surprised at the high level I was writing a few years ago. But most of the time I just laugh at myself, and what I used to write. Oh my, the first story I have on my computer from nearly 6 years ago, now that is terrible, but hilarious (well it would only be funny for me, everyone else would just be appalled by it).
What is annoying though, is I wrote this story, but I CANNOT FIND IT ANYWHERE! I keep trying to search for it, and I can't find it. I just remember it so clearly, and I really want to know what I actually wrote about it, because the idea was interesting. And it was meant to be part of a 'trilogy' with two other people at school, who were writing their own stories, and somehow they would be linked. But of course, we kinda neglected the fact that we would have to communicate and let each other know what we were writing about so they were just three, very, very, loosely connected stories, with no connection between them. It involved time travel, and I really need to find it, but it seems to have vanished. :(
:( Such a pain when you can't find files. Best of luck tracking it down.
I'd be very curious to read some of your recent work, too. You've got me thinking about the stories I wrote for my Year 12 English assessment, all those years back. I wonder what it would be like to read those, now? I remember writing one form the point of view of a rat infected with the bubonic plague (shhhh, I realise admitting to this is a bit hypocritical after the lofty attitude I've adopted in relation to the bloodthirstiness of everyone else on this site :D). Anyway, I definitely don't have them on computer any more - it's been, what, 14, 15 years? That computer is long gone, and I don't think I kept anything from it... I wonder if my mum has hard copies, though. She kept a lot of my stuff. Actually, she gave me a lot of my high school stuff. I wonder if it's in a box somewhere in my shed?
Anyway, getting sidetracked. What I meant to say was, I think you should be proud of anything you produced back when you were younger. Even if the writing is a little awkward, I bet the ideas were as awesome then as they are now :).
It's more annoying, because I'm basically a hoarder when it comes to this stuff, I never throw out anything or delete like anything. So I should have a physical copy somewhere, but since I have so many books full of work from school (I literally have like every single exercise book, and piece of paper, from most of primary school, and all of high school) it's hard to find the right one. And I don't think I had an electronic copy.
Strange you should mention the bubonic plague, because I wrote an 'essay' on the Black Death two years ago, it is a bit dry and has way too much information. I think my mum was the same, except now I'm the one keeping everything, I keep everything on a shelf, above my clothes in a wardrobe, and I'm afraid the weight will one day cause it to snap.
The piece I wrote, was from a task where we had to use the same title as a book we had read. And I did one from the Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events, and I basically copied the plot (or at least I think I did) because I had a group of triplets, who I think (if I remember correctly) were apart of a group of sextets or something. It was weird, and reading it just results in me laughing.
Speaking of recent stuff, I don't have like anything to share. Unless you like reading essays and responses to texts and science report stuff. Though there will be sometime soon a piece I want to share, but it will have to wait until after school because of plagiarism. Which will be a comparative essay comparing Obernewtyn and Harry Potter (not sure if just the first book, or entire series, will see what the task actually is going to be, I just know we have to compare two texts) which I am excited to do and I will be intrigued to find out what everyone thinks of this comparison. So until I write some more, I think there is only one (possibly a few more) short stories, that I would be happy to share, the others are just too bad.
Daniel these stories are great. You manage to capture my imagination and I actually like the cliff hanger endings. I've written a few of those myself.
Thanks Deb. Cliff hanger endings are so much fun to write, but personally, I don't really like reading them, because I get frustrated and want to know what happens, so I guess I'm creating something I would personally dislike reading. That being said, it doesn't make the story bad, I just am greedy and want to know what should happen next, and the 'real' events, not what I or others might come up with. Thanks again!
Another short story, again it was produced two years ago (I think I've mentioned that that was a year when I wrote a lot). We had to start with 'The door opened' hence the terrible beginning. Once again, it is pretty bizarre, had the worst names for things ever and makes little sense. And I think for once there isn't too much of a suspenseful ending, because it happens at the start, as it is a flashback. I hardly even remember writing this story, unlike the others ones, so it's not my favourite, but let me know what you think. Enjoy!
The door opened and a gunshot rang out through the building, I looked down and saw blood trickle out of my stomach. I knew then that I would die, and that I had no chance of survival. In a few moments I would arrive to the blissful silence of death. I stumbled through the door, trying to see my shooter, but there was too much light behind the figure. All I saw was a silhouette of a person; it was hard to distinguish if the person was male or female. The person stepped forward and I saw their face, it was……………..
Earlier that day John Bovi was walking down the street on his way to the local bar. He crossed Giddy Street and looked at all the hundreds of people crossing the road with him, all focused on their destinations and not focused on the other people. He stepped back on to the footpath and briskly continued towards the bar. He was about to turn into the bar, “The Buffalo's Bill”, but a man of about 24 years of age bumped into him and dropped all his belongings. John immediately went down to start picking up the man’s things. The other man breathed a deep sigh and bent down too. John looked into the man’s face and was shocked to see his old assistant from 5 years ago at his previous law firm, whose name was lost from John’s memory. The man had suddenly disappeared after one year of working there, with plenty of rumours of him being dead. Those rumours were confirmed by a news report one week later that he had been killed by a train in the outskirts of town. John went to his funeral and met his distraught family and then to see him now was an utter shock which left John paralysed. The other man looked into John’s face and saw John’s shock and he too was left paralysed. A moment or two later John recovered and got to his senses and picked up the rest of the man’s belongings and stood up. He held out the things to return to the man and the man graciously took them. John held out his hand for the man to shake it and said, “Do you remember the law firm you were the assistant at 5 years ago?”
The other man looked at him more closely and then said, “Oh yes I remember, I had to leave quite suddenly from that job because I was called to another job.”
“We all thought you were dead, and I even went to your funeral.” John said emphatically.
“I think we need to have a talk.”
“I agree, shall we go to the café just down the road, or does it need to be a more private location?”
“We shall go café and as everyone talks so loud no one will over hear us.”
So off went John and his old assistant to the local café. When they arrived at the café and sat down at a table together and ordered a pot of tea. John began the conversation after a period of awkward silence, “So where shall we begin?”
“Well, I didn’t die, as you can quite obviously see and I did actually have to leave to go to another job. The other job has taken the last four years and now I have been able to leave.”
“Well what was the job?”
“I was a secret agent for one of the top military contractors.”
“Are you even allowed to tell me this, shouldn’t it be top secret?”
“Well the only reason why I am telling you this is because I need your help. I wasn’t planning on meeting you, I was actually planning on disappearing and going off the grid, but you came along and have provided me with a perfect opportunity.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Well, my explanation will take a while; do you have to be anywhere today?”
“No, my schedule is completely free, take as long as you like.”
“Ok then, let me begin…”
That explanation was a long time ago for John and at present he was under taking his role in this task. It was 6:00 p.m. and John was driving towards the country side. The other man, whose name has mentioned as Frank, was sitting in the passenger seat going through the last details of their plan.
They arrived at a turn off down an unsealed road and turned right. The track went for about 100 metres and at the end was a vast manor. They stopped far enough away from the manor, to not been visible from the house. They both got silently out of the car and crept closer towards the house. Frank indicated to go around the back of the house and they both continued to the rear of the vast house.
When they arrived at the back they saw that the entire house looked deserted, which was almost exactly what they were expecting. Frank moved towards the door and opened it quickly and they both crept into the home. They were lucky that the security system was left off tonight, though they were prepared to disable this. At this moment they both split up and went in separate directions. John moved towards the marble staircase, while Frank stayed on the ground floor. John went silently up the staircase and got to the first floor and went straight towards the open door of the study. Inside the study John went to the drawers and started to open them methodically, looking for a particular piece of paper. He searched the entire cabinet to no avail and moved back out of the room. He then decided to go into the only other room whose door was open, which was the bedroom. In the bedroom John looked in the drawers and found only clothes and began to think that he would never find the piece of paper that would save Frank’s life from the military contractor. The piece of paper contain all the information that Frank needed to bring down the contractor, he needed to do this because Frank had escaped them only two weeks prior. The contractor wouldn’t let Frank leave and began to turn to more illegal means of economic gain.
John heard a sound of a car’s door closing and immediately went into panic. They weren’t supposed to be home yet. John decided to open the only door that wasn’t open, back near the staircase. He grabbed the door handle and turned. The door opened noiselessly. There was a flash of bright light and then the sound of a gunshot. John Bovi thought that he would die and in his dying moments saw the face of his killer. His killer was his mother! Just before he died he understood what happened. They were in his parent’s home and Frank was trying to get back at his father. His father had once been involved in the military but hasn’t been in service for years. Frank was delusional and John was helping him! The last image John saw was one of his mothers face in pure shock and agony. His vision faded to black and he knew this was it.
John awoke in a hospital bed a month later and was confronted with his family around his bedside. His mother hugged him and was apologising repetitively. His father said, “Frank is in the lobby, shall I go and get him?”
That was an unexpected end! I imagine it would cause a bit of a rift in the family, to know your mum had stuck a bullet in your guts :P.
I'd love to see what John does when Frank comes up to see him...
Another interesting piece. I think you have a fine career as a thriller writer ahead of you, Daniel!
To be honest, when I read your comment I was confused, because I thought Frank had shot him, but it was clearly his own mother. I really do not remember this story at all (though I just re-read it and I'm not overly happy with it). But I think it would be pretty awkward to know your mum had shot you, and then I'd hate to imagine what John wants to do with Frank, when he seems him again.
Thanks! Maybe that is where I could go, into writing thrillers, I guess my cliffhangers are just fitting for the thriller genre.
Haven't posted much for a while, and I believe I have run out of short stories to share ([act]everyone cries in sadness, or maybe cheers?[/act]) so instead I have two 50 word stories from 2010. Yes that year I did more writing than any other, but it wasn't just short stories, there were really short stories and some poetry (I think more on that later), as always things are strange, weird and some fun (not sure about funny). Yeah, enjoy!
50 word stories………………
The silence of the elderly.
The silence at sunset in a woodland forest is deafening.
The silence is a change to the cacophony in urban life.
The silence gives a chance for me to truly relax and find my life again.
The silence is what I love; but alas I can hear it no more.
Drip, drip, drip!
The dripping of a tap.
A tap that drips water.
So little water with so much power.
The power to annoy people and weather objects.
A simple problem with a simple solution.
But so much effort to do it.
The dripping of a tap.
Drip, drip, drip!
I LOVE The silence of the elderly! It really captures everything (can't even think of a name forit :P I am pathetic at describing things) and I just love it! The plumbing one is quite entertaining to read. Hehe. Now that I know you can write poetry I want more of it.
I particularly like the plumbing one. It is fun, and I like the shape formed by the different line lengths. Also, it is so true )P . If this is a an example of your poetry style and you've run out of short stories, definitely time to bring out the poetry.
I like your tap poem too, Daniel. Nice symmetry :). And I particularly love the last line of your first poem. Very sad. As Bibliophile said - post more!
Thanks guys! I honestly didn't think my poems were that amazing, even my teacher wasn't a massive fan (though these ones were probably the best out of them all). So I'm very grateful for the nice feedback! I'll see what I can do about sharing some more poetry!
Good. Because I need more. I love reading other people's poetry (even though I am a failed poet myself :P) so you better post more. Soon.
Okay here are some more poems, technically they are 'Frozen Poems' but I don't even remember what that means, so I don't know what the format of these was supposed to be. I really think they are worse than last time, and I think you can see I have/had a strange vocabulary.
Even though I just typed I didn't know what they were, I just saw at the bottom of the document was the explanation of what a 'Frozen Poem' is, so there are 6 lines, and each line needs to explain/contain the following:
1. 3 describing words
2. Describing phrase
3. Who or what?
4. What doing?
GUESS WHAT THIS IS ABOUT… YOU’LL NEVER DO IT
Rumbling, grumbling, growling
Splitting through the ever growing silence
A deafening, brusque borborygmus
Irritating the maker to provocation
Coming out of the corpulent man’s stomach
After a lengthy fasting that starved the man
A man’s essence
Quiet, still, tranquillity
An ineffably enigmatic sensation
A silence of a thousand words
Making a soundless speech of attention
Coming from the emaciated man’s stomach
In the twilight of the past
What are you doing posting at this time of day, Daniel? Shouldn't you be at school? [act]glares[/act] I won't complain too much, however, since poems to distract me from the 1300 words I need to trim out of my essay ([act]wail[/act]) are very welcome :).
Despite your explanation, I still don't understand frozen poems. However, despite my literary ignorance, I like the poems. You've woven your words together to produce some interesting sentences. 'Ineffably engimatic sensation' has a nice feel to it.
I happen to know that borborygmi are hyperactive bowel sounds, so my weird and obscure interpretation of this is that here you are describing the sound of a person's guts as you hear it through a stethoscope.
In the first one, I think the man is either really hungry, or else he's had too much to eat after not eating for a while, and his bowels are now working in overtime. If the second case is true, my nursing diagnosis poem is that the guy's gonna have diarrhoea :D.
And in the second, I'm theorising that the guy has basically emptied his bowels, and now is on some kind of hunger strike, or maybe is sick/terminally ill and unable to eat. Consequently, there is nothing to digest, and so his guts are quiet.
Basically, it's about poo. :nods:
I have been granted a day off from school, because 'you need a day off to choose your subjects for next year, because it is serious, and while we are at it we will take away time from studying and make you sit through assemblies'. So I don't have to go in, until my 'appointment' with a teacher, to basically give them the form with the subjects I want to do next year, and then they look at it, and say 'ok', and then I leave again. School is weird.
Is this still that essay of schizophrenia? Good luck cutting it down, though you have already cut down 200 words since last I heard, well done! My Macbeth essay on the other hand is completed and has been handed up (and that short story that I handed up earlier, got full marks!!!). But now I just have neverending work, Maths directed investigation (seriously why do I need to analyse maths, and write introductions, why?) and the terrible, life ending, hated by all, Research Project which is just stupid piled upon stupid (Thank you government for making us do this, instead of another subject!!!! Though I have decided that I will do 5 instead of 4 next year, in addition to the 1 I am doing already...)
Anyway enough of that, back to the poems. Yeah I don't think that explanation was very clear, and I think I just wrote down the essence of it, but I understand it that in Line 1 there had to be 3 describing words about an 'event' and then the next Line had a describing phrase about the event, then the who, the what is going on (great English by myself, What doing?), where it is happening, and when. Don't know if that makes more sense, but anyway.
I'm glad you like them, because my teacher thought they 'lacked poetic quality' and gave me 16/20 (which for me, is not acceptable). And I am happy that someone actually knew what borborygmi are! I guess being a nurse in training you learn these things (maybe?) And I quite like your analysis of both poems from a medical point of view. And maybe they both are just really about poo.
Everything's about poo :nods:. Silly teachers, not understanding poo can be poetic. I'd have given you more than 16 out of 20. And congratulations on the short story which got full marks - I look forward to reading it in a year or two, once you are able to post it.
I am lucky that I didn't have a 'Research Project' back when I was at school. I do, however, vividly recall the horror of trying to make an essay out of my Specialist and Methods Maths projects. Even there, word counts afflicted me! Why, oh why? Ahem. What I actually meant to say was, my sympathies.
It's nice to have a good selection of Year 12 subject to calculate your ENTER from (is it still called an ENTER?), so if you feel organised enough to handle a fifth subject next year, that is a good thing. I did a couple of Year 12 subjects in Year 11, and then, like you, five in Year 12 (although I had to take one at another school, I remember, because my school didn't offer it). That gave me a spare subject which didn't even count at all. Very useful; in case something went horribly wrong and you got a lower mark than expected in one, you could compensate with your spare.
Anyway, I appear to be rambling. And using your thread to do so, Daniel. However, I can't be blamed for this. I still need to cut out about 740. I'm about 2/3 of the way through the essay at the moment - which is good because you can usually cut out heaps on the first pass, and I still have a nice chunk of waffle to prune. It's subsequent passes which become terrifying, especially if you're a few hundred words over, as I'm afraid I'm still going to be. Sigh. However, I shall do this. Today! I WILL hand this thing in tomorrow.
And your frozen poem explanation kind of makes sense, but it's doing my head in, so I'm going to go back to [strike]procrastinating[/strike]finishing my essay.