I've decided to make a thread so I would have a place to post a few of my short stories. Just be warned that some of these stories may seem pretty random.

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Have you ever played a game of solo Russian Roulette? The idea may sound idiotic at first, but there's benefit if you're not exactly lookin' to win.

A bullet to the head. The fast way out. They say that a bullet straight to the head shouldn't hurt at all. A painless death, or so they say... It's not as if there's anyone left to tell the tale. Frankly, I don't give a damn if it's painless or not.

I load a single bullet into the chamber of my magnum revolver, spin it, and lock it in place. The muzzle goes to my head, the gun is cocked, and my finger pulls the trigger.

CLICK!

Nothing. I guess I lucked out, though it's not surprising. This gun being a six-shooter, I have a one out of six chance of blowing my brains out. No problem, though. All I have to do is keep going; keep pulling the trigger. It may take a while, but again no problem. I've got all the time in the world.

The steps are easy:
-Put the muzzle to your head.
-Cock the gun.
-Pull the trigger.
-Repeat.

A four step method for killing your self with guaranteed results.

CLICK!

Again, no bullet.

Those who know me would say that this way of death is pretty ironic. This isn't the first time I've played Russian Roulette, you know. Of course, I wasn't playing alone those times. And needless to say, I won each and every time.

Poor bastards. Their only fault was thinking that Russian Roulette was just a high stakes game of luck. If you don't pay enough attention, you'll lose your life, among other things. Some would call it cheating, but I'd call it not putting a bullet through my head.

I wouldn't have imagined putting the gun to my own head with the purpose of losing.

CLICK!

Empty.

I guess you could say that my whole life was just a big game of Russian Roulette. I've made many life or death gambles; cocking the gun and pulling the trigger repeatedly. I guess my luck just ran out today.

CLICK!

The process is taking a little longer than I thought it would. I repeat the algorithm, regardless.

CLICK!

For those of you who lost count or just didn't give enough of a damn to pay attention, that "CLICK" signified the fifth shot. This gun is a six shooter loaded with one bullet. Five of those six shots have already been fired. Are you keeping up with me? That could mean one of two things: Either the bullet I loaded was a dud and I've already fired that shot or the bullet is waiting for me in this last shot.

Either way, this will all come to an end in the next shot. I repeat my steps for the last time.

Muzzle to head.

Gun cocked.

Trigger pull--

"Wait!"

I hear an unfamiliar yet pleading voice from nearby, and my finger stops moving. That's when I realize that one of the maids working for the hotel I'm staying at is standing in the doorway to my room. She must be here to change the bed sheets, or something.

"Stop! Don't do it!" she orders.

"Why?" I ask in my dead-pan voice. "You're not going to tell me that I've got a lot to live for, or some crap like that are you?"

"No! Who the hell do you think is going to have to clean this room up after you make a bloody mess out of it?! Picking up little chunks of brain and skull were not apart of the job description." She answers firmly as she comes into my room, scoots me off of the bed, and begins to hurriedly change the sheets.

I do nothing but stand out of her way and watch her work. I think her hands are trembling. I'm still holding the cocked gun in my hand.

When she's done, she takes the dirty sheets and leaves one final warning before leaving the room. "This room better be clean when I get back or there'll be hell to pay!" Leaving her threat behind, she closes the door.

I'm sorry Miss Maid, but that's something I can't guarantee. I sit back on the bed and put the gun to my head once more....


CLICK!


God must either love me or hate me....

Here's another short story I thought of while I was in the shout box a little while ago. It sounds more like a story meant for children.:

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Once upon a time, there was a young boy who decided to climb a very, very high wall. Once the boy reached the top, he sat on the ledge in triumph. It was then that he realized just how high he was, and, like a scared kitten, was afraid to get back down. All he could do was stare down at the ground that was several feet below him.

After sitting a while in thought, the boy noticed a little bird that had flown down to sit next to him on the ledge.

The bird asked, "Why are you sitting all the way up here by yourself?"

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That's all I have for now. I'll finish the rest of it and edit this post later.

I just read the first one and it was really good. Good work keep it up.

those stories were great

but wait didn't you forgot a line from the second story

Thank you all for your comments!

The stories that I will post here are mainly things that I came up with on a whim while I was in the shoutbox. And they were written there first. For instance, when I wrote the first story, I didn't really give an kind of warning, and Fusionist thought I was going to kill myself. O_O

I might write a slightly longer version of the first story later.

Actually, I should probably delete that last CLICK from the story because it makes it sound like there wasn't a bullet in there. I wanted the story to end with the reader not actually knowing whether or not there was a bullet left, and ending with the same line.

Am I? I don't really remember....

Your first story was very interesting. It makes the reader wonder what kind of person the narrator is to have played Russian Roulette on more than one occasion ^^

I also liked the technical terms you used, like "algorithm", and stating an actual type of gun instead of just blandly saying "gun".

The entrance of the maid was kind of the relief from the tension, but I'm can't say if I liked or disliked it.

Very good writing...Makes me want to actually post something in the thread I made a month ago O_o

yes the last line was

" the boy answered : i climbed the wall, and now i am afraid."

An update!

I was in a really weird mood when I wrote this.... It doesn't make any sense, even to me...

I'm not sure what else to say....

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This cold and lonely place has become my prison for the past five years. Spending five years alone can take its toll on a person.

Well, I'm not completely alone. There's also Harry, but he doesn't say much of anything. All he does is huddle in the corner, not moving a single inch. Sometimes I question whether or not he's still alive. But he is still living.

If you were to ask him why he stays in the corner, unmoving, he would answer, "I am an orange. If I move I will burst and my juices will leak."

Actually, that's the ONLY thing he says. He repe