Original Short stories and the like

[Casanova]

I'll post a few short stories I've written in this thread, constructive criticism is welcomed.

This first one is a little something I wrote based on some characters from a book called "Heroes" by an author called Robert Cormier, enjoy...

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As I line up my shot I catch a glimpse of Arthur Rivier over a crowd of guys drinking beer and laughing, as I look at him he shivers, his hair ruffled and his hand fumbling with the woolen scarf wound tightly around his neck.

He turns his head slightly and mutters animatedly as he starts to walk toward the bar, he is talking to a rather short man who's face I cannot see due to a Red Sox cap casting shade over the top half of his face and a thick white bandage covering the rest. I stand up quickly as to get a better look at the stranger but the sudden pressure on my ruined feet causes me to wince in agony.

I surrender to the pain, bend over, and stike the white ball with my cue.

 

[Shenorai]

You weren't kidding when you said 'short'. But that's not always a bad thing.

It's a good start, though. I'd like to see more.

 

[Jack's Smirking Revenge]

Is that the book about a young guy called Francis about how he didn't believe he was a hero, after jumping on a grenade to kill himself but survived?

As far as short stories go, it's good. There isn't really much going on, which doesn't make it the most exciting thing to read but it's descriptive enough and gives you a good picture of the situation. Though I think that maybe the atmosphere of the place could be drafted in.

 

[Casanova]

Is that the book about a young guy called Francis about how he didn't believe he was a hero, after jumping on a grenade to kill himself but survived?

That's the one, yeah.

Thanks for your comments

 

[Casanova]

Okay, I wrote this earlier so don't be surprised to see spelling or grammar mistakes because I sort of rushed through it. I took inspiration from a book I've been reading lately I also borrowed the character Moa from the same book. I tried to follow the author's style but toward the end it sort of trailed off into my own style.

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She was dreaming...she had to be. There was no way this was real, no frecking way.

She was falling. Not rapidly, instead gracefully, as if she were completely weightless. The harsh light stung her eyes but there was no shielding it. It surrounded her. She had no control of her limbs, they hung limp and lifeless - uselss at her sides.

The skin on her fingers started to burn soothingly as if a warm flame was being ushered along her veins. The peculiar sensation spread from her fingers and toes right up to her chest, then further to her scalp. It gave her the pleasant feeling of being cleansed, as if all her sins had been forgiven at once. But Moa had no reason to be forgiven.

She was slowing.

Her regained control of her limbs meant that she could flex her fingers, but it was painful. As if she were using them for the first time.

She had stopped.

"Moa" said a voice.

The voice hurt Moa's ears as it rang around the room for a moment. She looked up from the floor and saw an old man looking back at her, a pleasant grin spread across his cheeks.

"Who the freck...?" she began, but the man cut across her.

"Can you stand?" inquired the man.

Though her body is leen from years of starvation and running, the pain was excruciating as she willed her limbs to lift her body from the floor.

"Good," said the man, "It seems the ghettoes haven't broken you yet"

A sudden realisation struck Moa with the force of a jackhammer, she was now choking on the verge of tears.

"Father?" she whispered.

She cursed herself for not realising before now who the man was but her vision was blurred from the overwhelming light that seemed to radiate from the room itself. She ran at her father hoping beyond hope to feel his warm embrace for the first time in years since his death.

She passed straight through him.

"You cannot stay here long, you are needed, you must wake soon." said Moa's father

"But where am I?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I cannot answer that question, you need not know. Not yet, anyway." he replied calmly.

She turned to face her father.

"Then what happen-?" she began, but-

"You must go! NOW!"

Her father's sudden outburst startled Moa but she had run out of time, the room was fading to black, and she was floating upwards.

 

[Mitsuki]

So far so good. It's very vivid and detailed. I like how you managed to implement your own style but made it similar to the authors'...of course, I've never read the book or seen how the author writes, but from what I read on yours, the author seem to use intense situations to really give the feeling what the characters are going through.

And you said it's the same style you used...well, you did it pretty damn good. So what exactly was happening? I can tell that she's in a dream-like state, since she saw her deceased father. But what happened before that? xD I suppose you could retrace your steps and write about an event that lead her to that state...although I must say that the way you started it was just fine too, as it was mysterious in a way and as you read further, realization dawned on you that something intense is about to happen.

But yeah, I like the way you worded your sentences as they are very descriptive. Nice work, John. xD I'd like to see more.

 

[Casanova]

I'm glad you liked it, Mitsuki.

So what exactly was happening? I can tell that she's in a dream-like state, since she saw her deceased father. But what happened before that? xD I suppose you could retrace your steps and write about an event that lead her to that state

Well something happens in the book that puts us under the impression that Moa is dead but she's not, she wakes up. What I tried to do here was fill in the space between her supposed death and awakening with a my own short and creative story.