Posts tagged short story

She cried

Jul 26th

Posted by Joaquine in short stories

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Swords crash amid air and break the silence of the night. Yells come from the top balcony, as guards with their swords on hand rush down to assist their master is in trouble. The cold breeze moves her hair as she points the sword against the “masters” neck and the moonlight reflects from her almost white hair. She looks to where the guards are coming and quickly moves her sharp sword…

The sharp in one clear cut, cuts off the neck of the “master” and it falls to the ground. Before the guards arrive she disappears into the night. Guards look for her but she is nowhere to be found.  The sun announces its arrival by painting the surrounding mountains bright orange, devouring the darkness slowly. She reappears at the top of the mountain, and walks towards the edge with her bloody sword…

She drops to her knees and looks up towards the sky with her face still covered in blood. She sighs. Finally the revenge that her father wanted for so long was done, and the “master” was finally dead. Tears roll down her cheeks and she smiles and breaks into a hysterical laugh. The morning birds begin to sing, and at the distance the canons of the loyal army can be heard from the distance…

She knows they are coming for her and she just stays still for a bit, and then opens her arms towards the sky and closing her eyes images of her playing with her father replay on her mind over and over again. The hunting of the wild rabbits, the fishing on the open ocean and yes she can’t forget the time her father forged her first sword. A small one with her initials on it. B.V., she remembers playing for hours with it.

One day the loyal army came to her small town and took every men that could bear a sword, and they took her father. Her father ordered her to hide on their secret house on top of the mountains, and she obeyed, years passed and she continued on living on her own. They got desperate because she heard no news of her father. When she asked the loyal army, they told her to f. off and as she continued her search…

On her search for answers she discovered that her father had been killed by the “master” because he did not want to do the corrupt missions he ordered. Many people told her how the “master” just played with him by killing him slowly by dragging him with his horse, then kicking him until he did not responded anymore and to finish it off, the “master” left him to bleed an underground cell hanging from his writs.

From that day forward she decided to train to be strong enough to take on the “master” and when she did, she studied day and night how the guards rotated around the palace and when the opportunity opened she attacked and killed the “master” with such delight that it had to be one of her most happy moments on her life. The marching footsteps of the loyal army are coming closer and she can already hear the dogs.

The dogs bark and run towards where she is kneel down. She smiles and the loyal guards call their dogs. One of the guards tell her to drop her sword but she just holds on to it tighter and arrows fly across the blue sky sinking deep into her back. She laughs and laughs and blood make a small lake around her. The wind stays still as she slowly hits the ground. The crows fly off at the distance, and the sky turns grey.

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Just Fall and Miss the Ground

Apr 27th

Posted by Joaquine in Classmate's Short Stories

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Just Fall and Miss the Ground

By Sean H.

As I fell out of the twelfth story window the ground rushed at me and I was hit by a force that threw me back up towards the heavens. I panicked for a moment, a moment I had not panicked before, but then, the wind rushing through my hair and my coat slapping and flapping behind me, I realized that, no matter what the reason, I was flying over the city, over and unaware people down below.

The human race evolved on the African plains millennia ago, no predators in the trees, no reason to look up, not worth the processing power. Robots, all of them.  Heads on a pivot. Side to side. Except me… and that one there, she looked up; I could see her mouth the famous line under her breath.

“It’s a bird, it’s a plane.”

I was fucking Superman… and if she was willing she would soon be fucking Superman, but first I would have to figure out how to get down… or maneuver at all for that matter, without finishing what I had planned for earlier. Before.

But before what? What had happened? I mean really. Was I flying? Was I being abducted by aliens? Was I still alive? Was I lying on the pavement back at the bottom of that building, people milling about my crushed and decomposing corpse? Was this real life or was it just fantasy? For all I knew I was still standing in that building, looking out across the city and wondering “what if?” That would be almost worse somehow. Worse than being dead? Worse than being crazy?

I looked back to where the woman stood, still looking at me, and my whole body turned and started moving towards her. She was pretty this one. The kind of pretty you see on the cover of Jane Austen novels. Pale skin, dark, curly hair and this one had light blue eyes to set off her other features.  She smiled when she saw I was coming back and my heart warmed.

I don’t even remember landing that first time, but I remember looking her in the eyes and without a word taking her for a ride over the city. No one looked up, African plains and robots and all. We couldn’t cared less.

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Under the Bed.

Feb 3rd

Posted by Joaquine in short stories

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Under the Bed

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Note: First draft and will continue to improve it let me know your feedback. Thanks.

Luke’s mother has always avoided talking about the brown traveling case that is under the bed. Whenever she cleans up under the bed, Luke always asks her what is inside the case but she just changes the subject and moves on.  She always keeps the little golden key that opens the case around her neck and never takes it off unless when she showers. Luke has made many attempts to get the key but he never gets it.

Today, his aunt, Mary, and cousin, Laura, are visiting them. Laura is thirteen just like Luke is. She is a little taller than and she has always made fun of how short he is. “Hey you still the short one” Laura says putting her hand on top of Luke’s head and showing him that he just reaches where her nose is. More >

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Sunrise Walks

Dec 30th

Posted by Joaquine in short stories

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Note: This is my second draft of “Sunrise Walks” and still needs improvement. Two kids go for walks before school begins, what adventures will they encounter?

Sunrise Walks

At 5:30 AM, the alarm clock goes off interrupting the orchestra of snores coming from the beds.  The bedroom is dark and cold. The boy gets up and turns off the alarm clock, then looks at the other side of the room where his sister is still in deep sleep.  He turns on the light and takes out his school uniform from the closet. He lays it down on the bed, the pants are dark green and also the shirt; the sweater is marine blue with the seal of his school on it.  The boy takes a comb and just pretends to comb his hair; he just randomly combs a bit then skips some other parts. He hates mirrors, so he just combs his hair enough to where he feels with his hand that is uniform enough.
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At 6:00 AM, he comes back to his room after having a light breakfast and brushing his teeth.  He checks if his uniform is clean and without wrinkles, because on Mondays the principal checks that everyone is clean and that the uniform is nice.  The boy puts on the uniform and he goes around like crazy looking for his belt, he remembers that the last time he saw the belt it was in the living room couch, he rushes over there but it is not there anymore. He calls out his mother, “Mom, where is my belt?” More >

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Candles

Dec 18th

Posted by Joaquine in personal

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This time of year once again. One more round and we still here. Nothing much has change since last year, or at least I would like to think so. In that spirit I will post my first short story, nothing that big just my first draft of a fantasy story.

Candles

Rain pours down in the old church. A tall man touches the old rusty door handles and opens the door. The door clicks and he sees a river of candles illuminating the dark church. He hears whispers coming out of the shadows.

The smell of incense and burning wax penetrate his nose making his head a little dizzy. He walks. His boots splashing against the wooden floor makes some people turn around and stare at him with candles in their hands. He makes his way to the altar leaving trails of mud and water behind.

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