Category Archives: Short Story

The Path Less Traveled By.

I’ve never quite understood the people who cross streets on the crosswalk.

I always watch these individuals as they go out of their way and take the path of all the people before them, they look both ways, and they stay within the confines of those white lines. It’s so silly to me that someone would go so far out of their way just to follow a rule made by society, a law with little merit, especially on a street like this one. The road is virtually untraveled, making me wonder why the crosswalk exists in the first place. Who declared that they must paint white stripes across this particular road? Who thought that human beings were so stupid that they could not be trusted to cross this one lane side street without being mowed down by a car? I felt a crocked smile beam across my face as yet another person took the long way from the building she came out of to the crosswalk.

In moments like these I simply ask myself if everyone in the country can be put in one of two categories: those who must cross the crosswalk, and those who choose to take their own path.

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The day the wonderland collapsed around Alice

Alice suddenly found herself smiling at a text message and looked up to see if anyone had noticed; she took solace that, for once, the fact that no one paid her much attention had actually shown benefits. She had been texting a boy for a few days, knowing that it would likely never go anywhere and strangely not knowing whether or not she wanted it to. It had been about a week since Joel had talked to her, but she wasn’t going to let it bring her down. He was with Madison and had never really shown much interest, so she attempted to brush him off by texting this new boy. She finally allowed herself to stop thinking about his perfect black hair, sexy lip ring, and the way he laughed whenever she tried to make a joke, most people didn’t find her as funny as he seemed to and she enjoyed that attention. She typed back, dreading the fact that once he fell asleep she would go right back to reminiscing about the strong friendship she’d developed with Joel, she’d replay the memories in her head for the hundredth time, she’d remember his kiss with Madison the very day she’d planned to tell him how she felt, and, worst of all, she’d remember the way her tears tasted that evening. It was going to be a long night.

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Experimenting with point-of-view

One day in my shoes and you’d know that something is missing, one day within the confines of my mind and you’d know exactly what that missing piece is.

Ever since the day I had allowed her to walk out of my life, or rather I pushed her out of it, I had been so lonely. Without her, who was I to confide my deepest thoughts, feelings, and problems to? Who was I supposed to run to when things in my life got difficult? Some may say my parents, but they had proven to be unhelpful. My mother tried to listen, but she had too many other things to deal with that my childish problems seemed obsolete and my father had never been one for feelings. Occasionally, I would turn to my friends, but they only ever wanted wanted to talk about drugs or brag about all of their sexual conquests. To be honest, I often question the validity of such stories because I’ve seen Randy talk to girls before and it had never gone well; he expected us to feel that when no one was around he was a natural with the fairer sex. I’m not buying it.

The last day of school I told my mom I was sick when, in reality, I wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye to the girl who still had my heart. I know she thinks I don’t love her anymore, but that’s all a front. I act as if she is nothing but the dirt beneath my feet, little does she know she’s every song on my favorite playlist that constantly plays through my headphones every day a school, she’s the doodles on the corners of my assignments, and she’s the images and “what it” fantasies my mind plays for me at night. Every time I see her it’s as if my heart has been run over, but it’s behind the wheel. What a tragedy that I had the nerve to think I was too good for that girl or that we were in some way boring or void of passion. I was crazy and, for that, I must pay the ultimate price of watching her make some other man’s dreams come true…

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