Short Story

The "Tea" Kiss

Folder: 
Short Stories

A Short Story

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Thanks for reading this.

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My Little Peice of Art

I never really paid attention in art class. What was the point? All art consisted of was colors, and how you blend them. Or at least that's how I saw it. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have even taken art classes. I just never really could see the beauty behind it all. There was no point.



That's when I met him. The only person who could sit a peice of art in front of my face and make me see. He alone could make me depict every single detail, and the meaning of them all.



A lot of people said that the only reason I could see things with him and not others was because he was the only one I wanted to look for. That wasn't true, though. I looked for others, but I could never see. I tried my hardest to see the beauty in the rambels of colors in the creations of others, but I never could.



We spent every waking moment together, just looking over various paintings and sketches, and somehow, I began to realize that there was beauty in art, that every single little peice of work had a meaning, and it all held some kind of beauty.



He taught me so much, not just about the subject at hand, but also about life. He taught me how to respect everything, he taught me to see the smiles behind everything. Even something as simple as a flower captivates my interest now. And it's all because of him.



And now, after the days of him have long since past, I find myself looking at the one little peice of art that he ever painted for me. I understood it now, it was about us, and the love we held for eachother. Even still I find that the love I hold for him can never be compared to the love I'll ever hold for anyone else, and I know, wherever he may be, that he loves me too, just the same.

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the Wal-mart Guy

The Wal-Mart Guy.



The Wal-Mart Guy

I remember

The first time I ever

Saw your face it was

In the electric’s

Department.

I was looking for

An Ozzy CD.

And you showed

Where they were

If you had any in stock,

So I found my CD we

Checked out and I walked away.

From that day on you would

Rush over to help me find a CD

Even when I didn’t need your help

In slightest of ways. So I thought it’d be

Nice if  maybe I was to ask you out on a

Date! but I didn’t expect anything

I told myself if anything maybe at least

We could become good friends from it if nothing else

That’s better then nothing at all to me!

So I wrote you a note and ask you out

Out on a date, offered my friendship

To you and gave you my e-mail address to you

And everything and you looked at me like I was stupid

And walked away. But the way I see it is

It’s your loss either way. And I think you were just

Afraid to admit that you might have wanted

To date a girl with a disability. But that’s okay I’ll find

A guy who likes me for me and you just might be sorry!




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Suicide of a Love Letter

i look blankly at the wall, then back at the letter again...the letter that i had written earlier today...i had written it for the one i love..but knew i would never give it to him because i knew how he felt..i reread it over and over the lines and scribbled words becoming one...thoughts swimming through my head like a giant pool of sadness and misery...the letter went something like this:...As the feelings inside me grow stronger for you, I can feel you getting farther out of reach. It was only two days..... only two days i was gone..and now everything's changed....you...me... What happened?....Now I  love you even more than before and it's killing me inside knowing that you are going to break my heart, whether it be today or tomorrow, I know that in the end you will decide for us to break up...i can see it in your eyes, your expressions, and your actions...I used to stand by you then you would tenderly wrap your arms around me and hold me close...now as i stand next to you i rest my head on your shoulder and i want nothing more than to have you reach out your hand and pull me close once again, but all that is there is an empty space between us, this is mostly how i know you want to break up...as i stand close, your hand remain at your side, your eyes don't drift casually down to mine followed by a quick smile, instead they stay faced forward in a blank stare, there is no feeling from you i try to get close all i want is to be alone with you, at least one more time, and just sit there, wrapped in eacother's arms, our love surrounding us, rather than meaningless words and blank stares...I am still in love with you, I want nothing more than to spend a whole day through with you, i wish you loved me back...and you don't even have a reason...your reasons are not reasons..they're excuses..you tell me 'because things are weird'...i can't possibly understand what that means...so things are weird, what is??

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The Traveling Salesman

Once, my friend, a man was traveling in the mountains, when he got caught in a rainstorm.  He was positively annoyed, but he bore the rain as well he could until it began to hail.  On top of all that, there was Thunder-and-Lightning, and the wind was positively dismal.  He was just about to look for a rock to sleep under when he saw a light in a cleft between two hills.  So he hurried towards the light, setting his hat against the wind.  He soon noticed that there was not one light but several, and that each light had a house attached to it.  He stumbled up to the first house, which being a Public-House, was sure to have a bed and a warm fire to dry the soggy traveler.  He knocked on the door until it rattled, and mid-rattle the door popped open and an exceedingly comical face peered out.  It was round as a dinner-plate, and the eyebrows appeared to be jumping off the forehead.  The face was followed by an equally rotund body, and then the traveler was rushed inside to sit more than three-quarters drowned by the blazing fire.  After a while he was somewhat warmed and less than half-drowned, and the traveler had almost dozed off to sleep when he was accosted by a large cup of steaming tea and a barrage of questions.  

?Who are you, and why do you travel in such gloomy weather?? said the man with the comical face, whom the traveler had rightly assumed to be the innkeeper.  

?I travel because I am a Traveling Salesman,? replied the traveler with as much dignity as he could muster, still being more than one-quarter drowned.  

?If you are a Traveling Salesman, what do you sell??  inquired the innkeeper.  

?Oh, bits and pieces that I pick up here and there.?  replied the Traveling Salesman.  

?Where do you keep them?? said the innkeeper with interest.  

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was also an English assignment, influenced by Rudyard Kipling

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The Perfect Couple

“But all we ever fucking do is fight!” he screamed at her short form.



“Exactly! That’s why this fucking relationship is so perfect!” she yelled back at him, tears coming to her eyes. She would not lose him.



“Perfect?” he laughed, lowering his face so that the two were close. “This relationship is far from fucking perfect! All we ever do is argue!”



“No! You’re wrong!” she accused, “It’s perfect! We fight. So fucking what? So does every healthy couple!”



“We’re not healthy if you haven’t noticed! We’re both royally fucked up in the head!” He put his pointer finger to her head and pressed.



“That’s half the reason we’re so perfect for each other! Don’t you see it?” she reached up and brought his face to hers, so that they were looking directly in the eye. “We fight this badly, worse half of the time, and we still manage to stay together. Fighting is what makes us, us. It makes us stronger. The suffering and pain we put each other through is what keeps us sane.”







Everybody wanted them together. Their friends, their families. It was like the two were meant for each other, like they needed to be together, like everybody else needed them to be together. They were so perfect for each other. And she had seen that from the very beginning. Mostly with the help of her friends.



They would often tell her how cute they would look together, how they should have been together, how he loved her the same way that she loved him. She didn’t see it though. She was blind to that sort of thing. It was the result of growing up with men that never loved her back. There were many boyfriends, but only one had loved her. One before him anyways.  

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Lost Sunshine

Stephani had been my friend since first grade. Well, my second year in first grade anyway. We had had our disagreements and there were times we didn't talk. There were a lot of fights between the two of  us, one of them lasting almost two years, but every time we got through it and I always saw her in a better light afterwards. She had beauty and innocence that no other girls our ages possessed. She was the kind of person that could walk into a room of crying people and with one smile, make all of their days better.



When we were little our mothers would take us to the park so that we could play together, and one of us always ended up getting hurt in the process. But whether it was me, or it was her, the other of us was always there to kiss the scrapes and make each other better. And no matter how hard we were crying, we always managed to make each other smile.



People often thought our friendship was weird. We could communicate in ways that no one else understood. With just a nod of our heads or a movement of our eyes we knew exactly what each other was talking about. We would spend hours beating each other up for fun, and laughing about it. We'd show off the bruises and the cuts the next day and we'd brag about the bruises we had given each other. Once, she broke my lip open, causing it to bleed on and off for about three hours. We had a bond that no one could break.



We often got questioned about our friendship. No one really understood us, and for that no one wanted us to be friends. There were few people that we would trust, and when we found one, we held them close to us. Our age difference also played a part in the opinions of other people. She was two years younger then me and a lot of people thought that there was too many years in between. We never really saw it as a problem though, neither of us cared how old the other one was. Most of the time, it didn't even register to us.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written before I had any attraction what-so-ever to Josh. Stephani is based a girl I used to think was my friend, Amy. The narrorater isn't based on myself at all. Just a random character.

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A Long Winters Rest

Folder: 
Short Stories

Time changes, like the seasons of a year. You have autumn, winter, spring and summer and then the cycle repeats again, never ending. Each one is different and you have to learn how deal and adjust to each one like life itself, cause they all bring something different then the next. But if you were stuck in such a season, u had a choice, which season would u stay in? But then again, would u want to? Each story has a beginning. You could say it all began in the winter of my life, because some of us do freeze in the cold.



Part 1



When I awoke most of the newspaper that covered me had fell of me onto the checkered tile floor.  The alcohol from last night covered my chest, and had now filled the air with a foul smell. It had also left a vile taste in my mouth, but it was something I become quite use to. My head was killing me; all I wanted to do was sleep. It was so hard though, with that one white light up on the concrete ceiling turned on.  Especially with the walls on white it made it worse and seemed to insinuate it. No matter what direction I turned in, it seemed to still pierce my eyes. Nothing worked. All I could do was pull the mildew pillow that I found in the garbage over my head. That didn’t work either; I guess it was time to get up.

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Lonely Leaf

As fall draws nearer,

Spring is crawling towards its end,

The leaf begins to prepare itself,

So it can fall from the tree,

The wind begins to blow,

The weather gets cooler,

And that leaf is the first one to fall,

The first one to go down,

It wanted to be the last remaining leaf on the tree,

But it was the first to let go,

The little leaf was stepped on,

Crushed up into crumbs,

The first leaf to die,

Because it just couldn't hold on.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

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