Hey guys. This short story's pretty old... so I'm sorry for not taking the time to make some new **** for ya. I'll type up some stuff on here this week though; I'm pretty bored. I hope you enjoy this!
"This story is basically about a depressed young guy who finds himself in a horrible, yet enlightening experience. I was partially inspired by the short story I've been reading in English: The Wasteland, and Swearing In Sunday School, by writervally.
Please enjoy my story. Let me know if it was crap, and let me know if you liked it! If there're any errors, gimme a buzz. Thanks. "
You looked at me on that road, yet I did not return your kindness. Smiles weren't traded - just that I took yours and tossed it 'pon the ground as it meant nothing. It fell without appreciation onto the road, like the yellow leaves which lay on it, undeserved of their exile - of their disregard.
Earphones inserted, unhappy mood reserved and my brows buried into my eyes: readying myself for it; I knew it would come. It did, and as always, I did not reply. My brows shielded my eyes further, reluctance seethed. I must have looked aggressive.
I entered the car like the day before, and the days before that. You crossed without hesitation of course, like you always did; you knew the road and it was never busy. As if systematically, you glanced at me, and performed yet another act of friendliness. It was no more special than the one you'd given me before, because like a piece of trash tossed on the ground, I too threw your second smile away, disrespecting your love.
"Come on! Get a move on! I've got places to be! Could your face be tripping you anymore than it is!? Hurry up!" My brother called on me. He awaited my arrival in the car, making it bewail by pressing the horn. He suggested I should quicken my pace as his hand clenched into a fist and waved around recklessly. I looked over the road, and as I'd assumed, you were there. You did not smile immediately for you were looking in another direction, oblivious to any hazards or people around you.
But wait.
Your head turned towards me, and your lips formed into that crescent of cheerfulness that had irritated me so for the past four years. This time was different. There was something about your smile, something. I didn't smile back, because I did not feel happy. This time though, just this time, I accepted your smile. You didn't know that. How could you?
I opened the car door and swung my bag into the back seat, paying no attention to anything in particular. I was going through the every day schedule I'd had for the past four years, and the last part was about to be committed. I sat down and fell into my own abyss of shame and depression as I slouched further down into the seat. At that moment, I made myself a promise. I decided I would smile back. You always smiled twice. Always. I felt a rush of excitement, and for the slightest of moments, I was happy. I awaited the car's ignition: it always drew your attention to me, and that's when you smiled.
But wait.
The exhaust was already bellowing, and my brother had already put pressure on the pedal. He was in a rush. He tossed an empty pack of chocolates out onto the road and drove forwards rapidly. I looked at you, and I smiled. You looked at me, but you had noticed it too. My smile morphed into a face of horror as the car came to an all but pointless stop. You were there. On the road. Crossing without hesitation made you vulnerable this time. Yellow leaves became red. I came out of the car, and I ran towards you, but it was too late. You had suffered the ultimate fate.
Keep up the good work, I found it amazing. Nothing to really complain about. Worked great as a short story and even though it didn't have the most original plot, you were able to pull it off with pride because of your original touch in the text. What can I say, I'm impressed. Hopefully you'll post more, I for one will be reading. ;)
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Dreaming of Zion, Awake Sleeping Awake.
"We’ve never tried to come off as better than our fans, our fans... when they come to see us play, they’re actually a part of, you know, us playing. Sonny, the way he is on stage, he connects with them, emotional and in every kind of way you can imagine, you know, musically, and I think that they can see that it’s not, you know, a put on, it’s not something that’s fake, it’s real." - Mark Daniels of P.O.D.
It's definately a good story. I really like the opening paragraph to it as it drew me in with the symbolism of the yellow leaves. That was a WOW moment. Pure greatness in just general and I'm with Jon2, got nothing to complain about. Keep it up
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God Bless Us Everyone We are a broken people living under a loaded gun
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