Forum Game [Forum Game] Creative Writing Corner

Re: [Forum Game] Short Story Hour

I honestly forgot about that other thread xP Oh well, I prefer writing my own stories anyway.

Your story was nice, short and abstract, it makes me want to know more about these two people. I also really like "The sun setting several times in a blink as his eyes focus on the raindrops", that's not something you read everyday, and it took me a while do get its meaning but I just woke up x) It's really well written.

Here's a (not so) short story I wrote for an assignment. It was well received by my class, but my teacher didn't like that I wrote it in English; she felt she couldn't grade it properly since it was in a language she wasn't as familiar with. But oh well, read it if you have time :3

Fun fact: I was listening on Cat Food on repeat while writing it, so the beginning with the rain is inspired by the song, but the outcome is nothing like it ^^

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Heaven’s Bell by Amanda Hallberg

The sky seems to be hidden behind a whirlpool of never-ending rain.
“It just won’t stop...”

I clutch my jacket tighter around me, but it does no good against the icy wind. Water is dripping from my short hair and runs down my neck inside my high-collar sweater. This must be the worst day ever.

The morning had been sunny without a cloud to be seen, so naturally I had neglected to bring an umbrella. I had no idea that the non-existent rain from the summer would pour down all at once during this afternoon.

Temporarily protected by the tiny roof the bus stop provides I try to look around street, but the rain is coming down so hard I can hardly see a thing. It does however seem like every person in town besides myself had intelligence enough to check the weather report this morning and thus brought their umbrellas to get home safe and dry.
I check my watch; the bus is running late, and who knows when it will show up, if at all?

I didn’t think there could be a day worse than all previous days of this week. Every day in school I have seen her sitting by her desk, chatting with her friends. All I can do is watch from afar, since I am the loner of the class. I have never before cared for the other students around me, but she stood out for me as a kind-hearted and understanding being. She is friends with almost everyone, but she doesn’t neglect anyone and despite being popular she gets high grades and gets along well with the teachers. It’s made me think that she might even notice someone like me, who usually ignores the world around me and doesn’t talk to anyone.

Ever since I noticed her I have felt the changes going on inside me. For the first time in my life I have been self-conscious of my appearance, choosing my clothes and actions with care in hope of her noticing me, almost like a new student having appeared in class. But my fantasies don’t measure up to reality and all I feel in school are strange looks from the others. I can hear their thoughts: “The outcast of the class is trying to be someone in order to get attention”.

I shake my head in hope of removing these thoughts. Whether or not they really are thinking that, I still don’t care what they think of me. Only she matters.

My parents have noticed my changes as well. “It must me love” they said yesterday, and it really opened my eyes. I hadn’t thought of it before, only acted on my feelings without reflecting on them. But I suppose this really must be love; I would never have changed like this otherwise.
My parents are right, I must be in love, in love with a wonderfully sweet and caring girl. And I would never be able to tell her. She must be popular for a reason - everyone around her must think the same way I do. It makes me hate myself for wanting the same thing as everyone else when I have always liked what others don’t. I, who love anything neglected by society, now want the Princess of the commoners. I feel like I should hate her, but I sense something in her that others don’t have; that she also loves the trash of society, that she loves anything set on this Earth, whether it is diamonds or coal. They are, after all, made up of the same substances, only built a little differently. If there existed a God, she would be his ultimate creation. And as a human able to love anything, she is the only one who could possibly love me.

The rain hasn’t let up even the slightest. The sound is deafening my ears, and the cold is starting to get under my skin. I feel myself wanting to doze off but the icing water in my hair and on my clothes won’t let me. My home is within walking distance, but it would be impossible to walk through this storm. The bus is still nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly I hear a voice through the rain that reheats me in an instant. If anyone else had passed by I wouldn’t have heard them, but there is no way I can miss hearing the sweet melody of her voice, clear as a bell.

I try to locate the direction of the beautiful sound and I quickly spot her through the rainy mist. I can hardly mistake her for anyone else, despite her being half-hidden by an umbrella and a companion. I hear her laugh tinkle like a bell again, but my heart sinks this time. With a friend by her side there is no way she will ever notice me. I look away, not wanting my heart to break any further. I feel water running down my face and I’m not sure if they’re raindrops.

The bell is ringing out through the rain as if calling me, but I try to ignore it. Right now I would rather listen to the rain. But I suddenly feel the presence of two people standing next to me, and a boy speaks up. I can’t hear what he’s saying and I don’t care. The bell tinkles.
“You go on ahead” she says, almost singing the words, “You have your own umbrella”.
The boy mutters quietly and walks past.

I realise she is still standing next to me, and unsure of what to do I keep looking away from her. She takes a step forward and whispers something that normally would be hard to hear, but I couldn’t possibly miss anything she utters.
“Are you crying?”
I hold back a gasp. How did she notice? And why does she care? I wipe my face with my sleeve, but it hardly helps. If anything, even more water ends up mingling with the tears.
“You must be really cold” she continues, “don’t you have an umbrella?”
I shake my head, unable to say anything in her presence. The bell tinkles as she gives a small laugh.
“Understandable. I was lucky to have one in my locker, otherwise I would be in the same situation as you”.
My heart skips a beat. She just compared herself to me.
I would normally find my reactions incredibly stupid, but I suppose love makes you an idiot.

Despite not receiving any answers from me she is not fazed and keeps the one-sided conversation going. She looks out over the hazy street.
“I don’t think the bus is coming, not in this weather”.
I sneak a look at her while she is turned away, but almost like she could sense it she looks back at me and smiles. Her long fringe is tousled and half-covers her eyes; it’s the sweetest thing I have ever seen.
“Do you live far from here?” she continues.
Her cute appearance has warmed me enough to regain my courage.
“No, just a ten-minute walk from here”. My voice comes out quieter than I had hoped.
Sparing me the embarrassment of having to repeat myself, she nods understandingly.
“Then how about I walk you home?” The question I hadn’t dared to dream of chimes from her mouth, resounding in my ears for a long time afterwards. Walk me home.

I look into her eyes and don’t break the gaze. It feels like a magic moment that could last forever, but she nods discreetly as if understanding precisely what I’m thinking, and I allow my eyes to rest on my lap, relieved. The awkward tension I’ve been fearing our entire meeting has been drowned by the rain and will not bother us anymore.

She reaches out her free hand not clutching her umbrella towards me and smiles a heart-warming, angelic smile. No longer afraid, I don’t hesitate to accept the warmth of her palm as she drags me up with unexpected ease. No longer strangers, she offers me to join her underneath her light pink umbrella, roomy enough for both of our small figures.

Inaudible by the raging hail of raindrops we walk through the rain, invisible to the surrounding world. Space and time seems to stop and only we exist; two small girls protected from heaven’s war by a fluffy and comforting umbrella. We come from completely different worlds, but for a moment we set all our differences aside and just enjoy each other’s company. This truly is the happiest day of my life.

All that is heard in the air is the sound of the heavy rain coming down and the pleasant chime of a bell.

 

Long time no writing!

I haven't written anything since school ended but I was inspired by the beautiful summer weather to write something I've wanted to for a while - a short story based on Time Machine. The song is very nostalgic to me as I can relate to it, having gone to the countryside during summers when I was little. I stopped going a while ago though, I feel a bit bad about that. This is to make up for it and to remind myself that I still have those summer memories to accompany me. I also have photos from there that I want to add to the story as well.
This is my own interpretation of the song so it's okay if you don't agree with it :) I only wrote it for fun anyway.

Summer Memory

by Amanda Hallberg

The sun shone brightly high in the sky, casting a surreal glow over every straw of grass on the ground and the birds in the sky, blinding the few people standing on the platform. A clock was ticking, waiting for the right second to chime. The railroad stretched ahead between bushes and sunflowers, overgrown and partially taken over by nature. The entire train station was starting to gain a proper camouflage despite being centuries younger than the meadow it had been set by mankind to stand on. It was evident that nature was striking back and time, mercilessly, waited for no one.

I unglued my eyes from a cloud in the azure sky and turned to look at my companion sitting next to me. I had to squint because of the sunlight but she appeared to carry a solemn look on her face, which was understandable. I brushed my hand against hers.
“Hey, cheer up”, I told her.

She looked up at me, replacing her previous expression with a flawless smile.
“I’m not sad” she replied, “I’ll see you again next year, after all”.

I frowned. There hadn’t been a year thus far when she hadn’t cried uncontrollably whenever we stood on this platform saying our farewells. In fact, she always used to cry to me about many things during the entire visit; about the other kids bullying her, how her mother hadn’t allowed her any cake that night and how I wasn’t able to stay longer each summer. But this time she hadn’t shown the slightest sign of sorrow even once, a rare sight for her. One could argue that she had suddenly matured during the year apart but the uncountable summers we had spent together had taught me that she was nothing more than a crybaby.

I hadn’t even wanted to spend my summers with her at first; as a child I hated going on vacation to the country side, telling my parents I would die of boredom. They always forced me to come along and to play with her since she was the daughter of their friends since childhood. I had a hard time warming up to this unconsolable little weakling and I spent most of the time fighting off her bullies and listening to her whine. I understood why she was sad of course, no one liked being the victim of bullying, but it still annoyed me how childish she was. But after many summers together I got over my stubbornness and stopped being bothered by her high-pitched sobbing. On the contrary, I started to miss it after going home. After I lost my parents in an accident I continued to visit her out of nostalgia and the fact that I now had something to cry to her about; it made us more connected.

We spent the summers roaming about the landscapes like the carefree children we were, doing everything a summer should consist of; bathing in the lake, building a tree-house, sharing a watermelon and lighting some fireworks among other things, to celebrate another summer spent together.

A few years ago I climbed the ladder known as school, fighting through homework to gain the achievement of good grades. As time went on it took over all my time and while I kept travelling to the country side to meet her I forgot the reason why. With life craving my attention small childhood joys took less place in my busy schedule, became less prioritised. I hardly noticed the changes in her when we sat on the rocks by the lake dipping our toes in the water and she told me everything was fine with her life. A subtle unsignificant comment that meant a lot more than I realised. The crybaby had as of this summer disappeared completely and I hadn’t noticed a thing. I had been an idiot.

The clock chimed and stirred me from my thoughts. I looked at her again, at that unmoving smile. The train was approaching faster than desired.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I asked her. She stopped grinning at looked at me, puzzled at the sudden question.
“Yup!” she chimed, “no worries whatsoever! What, you think I should be sad because you’re leaving? I have learned by now that you do this every year”.

Lies, I thought as I looked at her sarcastically hurt face. This was such an obvious lie. Why? She’s had no qualms about crying to me about anything before, especially the fact that I have to leave. By now she should be clinging to me with an iron grip begging me to stay with her and to never go away again. The fact that she’s acting completely fine is the biggest sign that she’s feeling the opposite.

I played along with her, knowing I had little time as the train came to a halt, and I didn’t want to part with her on a bad note. I flicked her lightly on the forehead.
“I guess I won’t be seeing your crybaby face in a while” I laughed.

She punched me playfully on the shoulder. “Just go! You don’t want to miss the train”.

I looked around the platform. A man and a woman stood some distance away, kissing goodbye. A bit further off an elderly couple waved to a younger man who had one foot on the train already. I picked up my bag and stepped through the entrance, turning back to her as the doors closed. She stood there smiling, saying something I couldn’t hear. Realing this she cut herself short and merely waved at me. I waved back; I truly was going to miss her. But just as the train jerked into motion I saw a single teardrop trickling down her cheek, the first one I’d seen from her this year. There’s that crybaby I know, I thought to myself, cluckling at it. But as the train picked up speed she ran alongside it, felling more tears with each step and desperately crying something to me. The smile disappeared from my face and turned into a frown as I tried to read the words on her lips: Don’t go. I smiled apologetically at her, mouthing back a goodbye. She was starting to breathe heavily while trying to keep up with the train as it neared the end of the platform. She cried something else and this time I realised that I've had no idea all along what her behaviour had meant, from the lack of tears to the single teardrop that could no longer be suppressed at our parting: I love you.

I had never hated myself more than during that moment; never had I wished so desperately for a time machine to correct past mistakes as much as now, even more than when my parents had died. If possible I would’ve gone back many years in the past telling the stupid kid that I was to hold on to her and to never let her go, in the future she will mean more to you than anything else in your selfish little world.

Lacking more time with her I wanted nothing else but to cast myself off the train into her arms but knowing such a feat was impossible I kept my face steady and replied to her with a smile that I love her too, more than she could possibly know. Her shocked eyes told me she had understood my reply at the very last moment as the train left the platform and her tiny silhouette disappeared behind green sunkissed leaves.

Holding back the tears I sat down in my seat and plugged in my headphones, muttering to myself with a smile that I wasn’t sad in the least. Time waits for no one but never stops, always enabling another year to pass. This summer's memory would make the time and space between us bearable until I could return here and meet her once again.

----

Aw, I've recently deleted most of my photos from my computer to free some space and I don't have my external hard drive here at the moment. I can at least link to my deviantart a couple of pictures I had in mind when writing:
http://r-i-a.deviantart.com/art/The-Lake-175019330
http://r-i-a.deviantart.com/art/Train-Station-173059012
http://r-i-a.deviantart.com/art/The-Los ... -115146988
And naturally the PV for Time Machine, many things are based on that and the real lyrics from the song. The title "Summer Memory" is of course Miku's module from the game ^_^