Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
Weekly Short Story Contests
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Week 73- (March 18th-24th) Stories --- Topic: Waiting DONE!
You put thought into the topic Stephanie, I kind of like this idea.
Haha, if only you knew how much thought didn't go into it. I'm glad you think so though. I figured if it was supposed to be something different I could easily change it.
i have a question.
Why are you saying that short story must have a beginning, middle and end? technically speaking, all stories have them. are you saying we must complete the storyline? the reason i don't is because the storyline is always way too long and i talk too much to get it short enough to post.
Why are you saying that short story must have a beginning, middle and end? technically speaking, all stories have them. are you saying we must complete the storyline? the reason i don't is because the storyline is always way too long and i talk too much to get it short enough to post.
You're right, stories have a beginning, middle, and end. Scenes don't. There's a difference between a scene and a shorty story and sometimes it's hard to tell. It's just there as a reminder. Storylines don't have to be massive things. The only thing that makes them big is us. :) It's just a reminder.
There were a few grammatical and spelling errors but not too many. Good job, Stuart. What I wonder is how the story ends? It felt a bit incomplete to me. Who was she waiting for? I assume it's her husband or some one she really cares about but it was never clarified. Why was he/she in the ER? What happened to that person? And how well did he/she heal? What did Ms. Clausen say to the other person?
To the room where the other person is because Ms. Clausen was in the cafeteria.
oh okay got it now lol im kinda tired
All right. No problem. The story does show promise.
I don’t like hospitals at the best of times. Oh wait is there ever a best of time in a Hospital? Hospitals at night though, with its dimmed lights and flicking faces of many televisions, reflecting off of walls. If you are in the Long term care unit then there will be beds filled with sad broken people, old and broken and mostly forgotten. Haired and over worked nurses nearing the end of twenty hour shifts, scurry about even at this ungodly hour. A persistent beeping of alert machine screams in your ears telling you that somebody needs help but the nurses always seem to be somewhere else on their shiny white shoes. An elderly man in a wheelchair might wheel himself past you and raise a finger and a bushy eyebrow in greeting smile in a toothless way and say, “Evening Pretty lady,” or he might just go by alone and forgotten in his own world inside his mind or the hallway might still be empty but for the flickering lights and the reflected faces on walls.Not far from there, down a corridor, lays the ER. Emergency Room... There are never good reasons to say those words together. It is here that I sat amongst the bruised and broken and bloodied people of the city hospital at night. Well Anyway I was in a room just off the ER watching those people. However I was holding the hand of a man clinging to life in comatose sleep while death pulled and tried to pull him under into the sleep beyond the coma that held him captive, into death. That man was my dad. I sat there with my mom and we both wept, though for very different reasons. We both wept for him, and begged in silent prayer for him to be alright, although we both knew that it was a very unlikely prayer to be answered that night. She wept for her husband. I sobbed for my father and knowing that it was my fault that he lays there, in a coma and not far from death. Yet still the lights flicker and the “help alarm” still beeps and the sounds of the many different TV shows mixing together into a sound medley that somehow passes as silence. Sights sounds and smells boil together in my gut like some evil brew and I want to throw up. I look at the dad that I love so much but was never able to, find a way to tell him the truth, now it was because of truth that he lay there. Tears streaming down my face, I waited in pain and the knowledge of future pain encasing my heart. Bitterness in every muscle and every bone I waited, I self loathing I waited, for my daddy’s coma to give way into the darkness of death, and for him to be wheeled under a white sheet to the morgue just two floors below.
In the end he will die and it will hurt, sometimes I think about the pain in my heart, and how I want to hurt it. How though do you hurt pain when pain is hurt itself? How do you love life when love has left life? How do you live life with pain, and love, and hurt?
Life is pain, pain is love, love is gone, Pain remains.
"Life is pain, pain is love, love is gone, pain remains."
Power to the Gazelles, babe.
Literary talent. Emotion... pulls me in. Good job.
Touchy subject, but I love how you didn't (ha, didn't, try never) TELL a story 'oh i was waiting'. No, you make me feel like I'm waiting with you. Showing, not telling. good job ;)
*fist bump*
Power to the Gazelles, babe.
Literary talent. Emotion... pulls me in. Good job.
Touchy subject, but I love how you didn't (ha, didn't, try never) TELL a story 'oh i was waiting'. No, you make me feel like I'm waiting with you. Showing, not telling. good job ;)
*fist bump*
Excellent work, Katrina. Very powerful, emotional writing.
Here's mine, a little long but hopefully not too tedious to read.
Title: Waiting for Someone Better
Author: Logan of Locksley
Word Count: 1,142
Jackson Cadwallader-Smith was not what most would consider a good man for many reasons, but he was a very good thief. During his career, he stole millions of dollars worth of artwork, jewelry, antiques, and anything else that caught his eye. He lied and cheated his way through nearly ever aspect of his life, looked out only for himself, and took advantage of the few friends he did have. These factors made what he was about to do unbelievable, and in fact there were those who didn’t believe he was about to do it. Of these, he was foremost. He had waited for a better man to do what had to be done, but none had come, and though he wasn’t a good man, he was about to do something good. Jackson Cadwallader-Smith was going to sacrifice his life to save the lives of people he hardly knew, most of whom he didn’t really like.
These unfortunate circumstances had come about some hours ago, and had been blamed on a tragic combination of human error and mechanical failure.
***
“Captain, it’s the only option!” Lieutenant Amber Smith (no relation to Cadwallader-Smith), proclaimed for the sixth time.
“Lieutenant, I cannot order someone to forfeit their life! I will not give that order. I must be the one to turn off the reactor.”
“As your first officer and friend, I can’t let you do that.” Smith replied. “I will do it.”
“No!” Captain Jones shouted. “It’s my decision. This is a cruise ship, not a military vessel. You will stay and protect these people.”
Smith’s reply was cut off by frantic shouting and a frenzied assault on the door of the Captain’s private office.
“They’re clamoring for an answer, Amber.” Jones said gently. “I must tell them.”
“Please, Robert, don’t do this. At least ask for someone else to volunteer!”
“I can’t ask someone else to do this, Amber.” He said firmly. “However, I owe it to you to respect your opinion. I will ask for a volunteer, but I will be the first one on that list.”
“I’m sorry.” Smith said.
“For what?”
“For this.” She replied, drawing her sidearm and aiming directly at his chest.
“Amber, no.” He pleaded. She shook her head, made sure the weapon was set to a stun setting, and pulled the trigger. Captain Robert Jones groaned and crumpled, and Amber stepped over his body to the door. She re-holstered her weapon and stepped out to address the crowd.
“Please, please, please calm down!” Amber shouted. “Be quiet!” She said more loudly. The crowd listened and a hush settled over them.
***
From the far end of the room, Jackson watched the ship’s First Officer give her speech. Apparently, one of the ship’s main reactors was about to explode, and the only way to shut it down was to use the manual override. This wouldn’t have been a problem had containment not already been compromised, but as it stood now the manual override was in an area flooded with lethal radiation.
Smith claimed that Captain Jones had wanted to do it himself, but he had been injured and was unable to walk. Something in her eyes told Jackson that wasn’t entirely true. Jackson had lied so many times he could read the signs.
Smith asked for a volunteer, though she placed herself at the top of the list. Some of the other officers objected, but not a single one of them stepped up to volunteer. A strange and painful silence fell over the crowd, and Jackson realized that none of the passengers on the Excellency were any better than he was. They were wealthy, aristocratic socialites, and every one of them was a selfish, arrogant, hypocritical shyster without a shred of human dignity.
Jackson waited for the crowd to prove him wrong, but nobody did. They all stood silently, staring expectantly at Lieutenant Smith like a dog begging for a treat. It sickened Jackson, and the longer he waited to worse it got.
“Well then…” Lieutenant Smith began, but Jackson interrupted her. In the fraction of a second before he started to speak, he recalled meeting Lieutenant Smith’s daughter yesterday. Around eleven or twelve years old, Mercedes was a charming, beautiful little girl – insensitive thief though he was, Jackson couldn’t bear to leave that sweet child without someone to watch over her.
“I’ll do it.” Jackson interrupted.
“You?” His guard asked incredulously.
“Yes, me.” Jackson shot back. “I’ll do it!” He shouted.
“Mister Smith…” Lieutenant Smith replied. “…are you sure?”
“More sure of anything than I ever have been.” Jackson replied. It was the truth. None of the wealthy passengers were worth the breath it took to say their names, but Jackson was going to save them anyways. He was going to save them, but only because it would save Mercedes and her mother.
***
“I’ll ask you one more time, Mister Smith.” Amber said. “Are you certain that you will do this?”
“Absolutely.” The thief replied confidently.
“I…” Amber said hesitantly. “I shouldn’t let you do this…”
“Don’t be stupid.” Smith replied sharply.
“I beg your pardon?”
“All I have to lose is myself, Lieutenant. You have a daughter to think of. Besides, with Captain Jones incapacitated, you’re the only one who can keep this place in order.”
“I…thank you, Mister Smith. You’re a good man.”
“No.” He corrected. “What happened to Captain Jones, anyways?” He asked.
“I…I stunned him.” Amber replied, not sure why she was telling the truth.
“Good for you, Amber.” The thief replied. “We’re running out of time. I have to go now.”
“Goodbye, Mister…I’m sorry, goodbye, Jackson.”
“I always hoped a pretty girl would be the last one to say my name.” He replied. “Goodbye, Amber. Say hello to Mercedes for me.”
“I will.” She promised.
***
Jackson Cadwallader-Smith turned away and entered the first airlock door. As it closed behind him, he saw nothing but the smile on Mercedes’ face, and when the radiation tore through his body, he felt nothing but relief that he had reached the override in time. The ship hadn’t exploded, and not one of those arrogant, hypocritical, monstrous passengers had been harmed.
Jackson slumped against the wall, too exhausted to consider trying to make it back. But as he faded away, he saw that pretty smile and was proud to say that he had saved her life. Whether that made up for the things he had done, he didn’t know, but he was content to know that Amber and Mercedes would live for a long time after this.
“Goodnight, Mercedes…” Jackson whispered into the darkness, knowing that she wouldn’t hear him but imagining and hoping against all rationality that she could. He heard her voice in his mind as she bid him farewell. Jackson Cadwallader-Smith sighed, closed his eyes, and waited to go to sleep.
Here's mine, a little long but hopefully not too tedious to read.
Title: Waiting for Someone Better
Author: Logan of Locksley
Word Count: 1,142
Jackson Cadwallader-Smith was not what most would consider a good man for many reasons, but he was a very good thief. During his career, he stole millions of dollars worth of artwork, jewelry, antiques, and anything else that caught his eye. He lied and cheated his way through nearly ever aspect of his life, looked out only for himself, and took advantage of the few friends he did have. These factors made what he was about to do unbelievable, and in fact there were those who didn’t believe he was about to do it. Of these, he was foremost. He had waited for a better man to do what had to be done, but none had come, and though he wasn’t a good man, he was about to do something good. Jackson Cadwallader-Smith was going to sacrifice his life to save the lives of people he hardly knew, most of whom he didn’t really like.
These unfortunate circumstances had come about some hours ago, and had been blamed on a tragic combination of human error and mechanical failure.
***
“Captain, it’s the only option!” Lieutenant Amber Smith (no relation to Cadwallader-Smith), proclaimed for the sixth time.
“Lieutenant, I cannot order someone to forfeit their life! I will not give that order. I must be the one to turn off the reactor.”
“As your first officer and friend, I can’t let you do that.” Smith replied. “I will do it.”
“No!” Captain Jones shouted. “It’s my decision. This is a cruise ship, not a military vessel. You will stay and protect these people.”
Smith’s reply was cut off by frantic shouting and a frenzied assault on the door of the Captain’s private office.
“They’re clamoring for an answer, Amber.” Jones said gently. “I must tell them.”
“Please, Robert, don’t do this. At least ask for someone else to volunteer!”
“I can’t ask someone else to do this, Amber.” He said firmly. “However, I owe it to you to respect your opinion. I will ask for a volunteer, but I will be the first one on that list.”
“I’m sorry.” Smith said.
“For what?”
“For this.” She replied, drawing her sidearm and aiming directly at his chest.
“Amber, no.” He pleaded. She shook her head, made sure the weapon was set to a stun setting, and pulled the trigger. Captain Robert Jones groaned and crumpled, and Amber stepped over his body to the door. She re-holstered her weapon and stepped out to address the crowd.
“Please, please, please calm down!” Amber shouted. “Be quiet!” She said more loudly. The crowd listened and a hush settled over them.
***
From the far end of the room, Jackson watched the ship’s First Officer give her speech. Apparently, one of the ship’s main reactors was about to explode, and the only way to shut it down was to use the manual override. This wouldn’t have been a problem had containment not already been compromised, but as it stood now the manual override was in an area flooded with lethal radiation.
Smith claimed that Captain Jones had wanted to do it himself, but he had been injured and was unable to walk. Something in her eyes told Jackson that wasn’t entirely true. Jackson had lied so many times he could read the signs.
Smith asked for a volunteer, though she placed herself at the top of the list. Some of the other officers objected, but not a single one of them stepped up to volunteer. A strange and painful silence fell over the crowd, and Jackson realized that none of the passengers on the Excellency were any better than he was. They were wealthy, aristocratic socialites, and every one of them was a selfish, arrogant, hypocritical shyster without a shred of human dignity.
Jackson waited for the crowd to prove him wrong, but nobody did. They all stood silently, staring expectantly at Lieutenant Smith like a dog begging for a treat. It sickened Jackson, and the longer he waited to worse it got.
“Well then…” Lieutenant Smith began, but Jackson interrupted her. In the fraction of a second before he started to speak, he recalled meeting Lieutenant Smith’s daughter yesterday. Around eleven or twelve years old, Mercedes was a charming, beautiful little girl – insensitive thief though he was, Jackson couldn’t bear to leave that sweet child without someone to watch over her.
“I’ll do it.” Jackson interrupted.
“You?” His guard asked incredulously.
“Yes, me.” Jackson shot back. “I’ll do it!” He shouted.
“Mister Smith…” Lieutenant Smith replied. “…are you sure?”
“More sure of anything than I ever have been.” Jackson replied. It was the truth. None of the wealthy passengers were worth the breath it took to say their names, but Jackson was going to save them anyways. He was going to save them, but only because it would save Mercedes and her mother.
***
“I’ll ask you one more time, Mister Smith.” Amber said. “Are you certain that you will do this?”
“Absolutely.” The thief replied confidently.
“I…” Amber said hesitantly. “I shouldn’t let you do this…”
“Don’t be stupid.” Smith replied sharply.
“I beg your pardon?”
“All I have to lose is myself, Lieutenant. You have a daughter to think of. Besides, with Captain Jones incapacitated, you’re the only one who can keep this place in order.”
“I…thank you, Mister Smith. You’re a good man.”
“No.” He corrected. “What happened to Captain Jones, anyways?” He asked.
“I…I stunned him.” Amber replied, not sure why she was telling the truth.
“Good for you, Amber.” The thief replied. “We’re running out of time. I have to go now.”
“Goodbye, Mister…I’m sorry, goodbye, Jackson.”
“I always hoped a pretty girl would be the last one to say my name.” He replied. “Goodbye, Amber. Say hello to Mercedes for me.”
“I will.” She promised.
***
Jackson Cadwallader-Smith turned away and entered the first airlock door. As it closed behind him, he saw nothing but the smile on Mercedes’ face, and when the radiation tore through his body, he felt nothing but relief that he had reached the override in time. The ship hadn’t exploded, and not one of those arrogant, hypocritical, monstrous passengers had been harmed.
Jackson slumped against the wall, too exhausted to consider trying to make it back. But as he faded away, he saw that pretty smile and was proud to say that he had saved her life. Whether that made up for the things he had done, he didn’t know, but he was content to know that Amber and Mercedes would live for a long time after this.
“Goodnight, Mercedes…” Jackson whispered into the darkness, knowing that she wouldn’t hear him but imagining and hoping against all rationality that she could. He heard her voice in his mind as she bid him farewell. Jackson Cadwallader-Smith sighed, closed his eyes, and waited to go to sleep.
The Nurse's DiaryDear Diary,
I've just applied to work at Suna Umi Hospital as a nurse. My friends told me that is was a bad choice, but I didn't know how it could be so bad. It was a nice hospital, and I was getting paid $14.00 an hour. No biggie.
* * *
Dear Diary,
Today was my first day of work. I had rented a taxi because my car broke down. Bad luck already.
When I got there, a woman leaded me to the entrance. She said her name was Moon. I told her that it was a lovely name, but inside, I thought that was weird that her name was a planet in our solar system.
I was given a outfit that all the new nurses wear. It was a aqua blue dress, with a pin that had “beginner nurse” engraved on it. I headed into the girls' dressing room to change, and I saw a surprise.
A janitor was cleaning the room with his Super Cleanup! Mop, highly equipped with blue strings.
“Uhh...hello?” I had said.
“Didn't you see the sign?” the janitor had asked gruffly. “Girls Dressing Room Closed.”
I had blushed. “But I need to change.”
His eyes softened. “Fine.”
I had hurried into a stall. Then I had jerked my clothes off. “What's your name?” I had asked, pulling the uniform over my head.
He had hesitated. “Ron.”
I had stepped out. “Mine's-”
“Do not tell me.” He had walked out, out of my reach.
* * *
Dear Diary,
It's been two weeks since I met him. Haven't seen him ever since. I wonder day by day where is he- if he was fired, or if he quit- I didn't know, and it hurt me badly in conscious.
I was all of a sudden in a daze. I couldn't tell my friends what I did at hospital. I couldn't even tell you what my name was- it was horrid. All because he disappeared .
Ron disappeared.
* * *
Dear Diary,
Today I found out the truth.
I was heading to my assigned room. I had opened the door, and I saw him.
I saw Ron.
He was lying still, his body covered in bandages. I was very scared. I started screaming. Moon came in yelling, “What the heck is wrong with you!” She shook me, but like I said, I was hurt in a bad place, that could never be fixed again
* * *
Dear Diary,
They kept assigning me to his room, and the more they did it, the more I got used to it. We talked about romance novel authors, and other things. We had forgotten that he was going to die soon, and we decided to purpose in marriage.
We married at the skating ring on March 24. I felt good, and so did he.
* * *
Dear Diary, Status: Five weeks into marriage.
I cooked for him, he taught me things I didn't know. We were a great couple! Couldn't wait for our child!
* * *
Dear Diary,
It had been a year. Had one child named Riley!
* * *
Dear Diary,
Our 2nd anniversary! Had a big party! Riley wore a lovely gown!
* * *
Dear Diary,
He died.
Yes, he died of his disease. We'd been married 5 years, too. At the funeral, Riley ran to the car where his body was. She got ran over by the car. She died, only two years old.
Status: End of Diary
THE LAST GOOD-BYE"Come on, hurry up, we haven't got all night!"
Rachel Crawlings, dressed from head to toe in form
fitting white frilly blouse, faded blue jeans, and
open toed sandals, said to herself in full
frustration as she stood waiting on the corner of
Seventh street and Marshers Ave for her best friend
Teresa Carpenters to arrive and pick her up for what
was sure to be a blast of a party over at Stevie Anne
Rollings house.
"Where the heck are you Teresa?"
Okay you can find yourself a new best friend
Teresa, Rachel thought in fury, starting to race back
home a few feet away to ask her older brother for a
ride.
She would have made it too, if not at the last
possible second, Teresa's black Ford Explorer came
speeding up, coming to a sudden stop beside her.
This caused Rachel to change directions and rush to
it, eagerness to get to that party now running
rampant in her.
"Sorry to keep you waiting Rachel," Teresa
called out as Rachel was enroute. "My shift over at
Our Lady of the Roses ran a bit overtime.
"Whatever, let's just get to that party," Rachel
said, climbing in.
****
Hope you're not mad waiting for me." Rachel
spoke in an usual quiet voice, still in her required
nurse's uniform. What struck Rachel as troubling was
it was a bit stained with gray dirt or dust of some
kind.
"I'll be fine. Hey what's with the heat, and
what happened to your nurses's uniform?
"Sorry, I'm just feeling a little cold is all,
and as for my uniform, don't ask." Teresa answered.
"Oh, well do you mind stopping over at 7-11,
there's something I need to pick up for Stevie's
party."
"Sure thing Rachel. And again, I'm sorry for
keeping you waiting."
****
"I'll just be a minute."
"See you later, and remember Rachel, again sorry
for keeping you waiting, and we'll always be best
friends."
"Uh, okay," Rachel muttered in a slight nervous
voice, heading out of the vehicle.
****
The first thing Rachel saw and heard, a small
crowd of 7-11 patrons gathered around the counter
listening to a radio news broadcast being delivered
by a middle aged male voice.
"This just into our newsroom, there's been a
huge gas explosion over at Our Lady of the Roses
Hospital. All present within it at the time are
confirmed dead."
Cold and needed heat, dust covering her nurses
uniform, "see you later and we'll be always be best
friends," crap, why the heck didn't she see it
before?
****
Rushing out of the 7-11, the first thing Rachel
saw was Teresa's Black Ford Explorer driving towards
a brilliant bright white light.
"It's okay Teresa, I forgive you for making me
wait," Rachel said as tears started filling her eyes,
raising her right hand in a good-bye wave.
****
"Where do you need to go?" The taxi driver said
as Rachel slid into the back seat.
"Home."
LOGAN YOU KILLED NEAL CAFFERY!!!!! I mean, we were engaged!!!!!!!!! and he gave me his fedora.... but he had to steal my ring. But I have his fedora, which i wear all the time, thus we're engaged!
But anyways, very very sad story but well told :) or shown. Shown, i think. good job :)
OMG Alea that was sooo sad! but good job :)
Mark, great story ;) I was a bit hesitant at first, cuz it seemed like it was so obvious, like, oh she's waiting for her friend, but at the end it gave it a lot more meaning :) good job, everyone ;)
But anyways, very very sad story but well told :) or shown. Shown, i think. good job :)
OMG Alea that was sooo sad! but good job :)
Mark, great story ;) I was a bit hesitant at first, cuz it seemed like it was so obvious, like, oh she's waiting for her friend, but at the end it gave it a lot more meaning :) good job, everyone ;)
Stuart wrote: "Stephanie wrote: "All right. No problem. The story does show promise."finished I think?"
Sorry?
Horizontal MirrorWord Count: 691
It wasn’t my fault. I know that. It was his choice, not mine. But doubts persist. They always do, when something bad happens.
What could I have done to change him, to avoid this outcome? Nothing, maybe. But nothing is exactly what I did. Early in life I learned the value of patience. I knew it was a matter of time before dad stopped beating me. I knew it was a matter of time before bullies grew bored with an unresponsive victim. I knew it was a matter of time before my little brother could move out and make something of his life. Or, at least, he should of.
Patience held my tongue when my first boss mimicked my dad’s sense of leadership, or when a customer displayed his familiarity with the neighborhood. I always waited until they finished screaming their problems at me, since God clearly wasn’t listening. I always waited until I could respond without anger. It probably save my job and, once or twice, my life.
I waited for over two years for a college to accept me. There I waited a long time for the other students and the teachers to learn to ignore the signs of my clearly troubled past. I was the raggedy kid who didn’t avoid others’ eyes because he was shy. I was suspicious of everyone, and they were all suspicious of me. For a while.
Most importantly, I waited for however long I needed, however often I needed, on the woman beyond my dreams. She required a lot of patience, and I required soft chastisement on everything from my school work to my cynical outlook on life; we were perfect for each other.
Patience carried me out of my gang neighborhood and away from my abusive father, to this simple regional manager job at a manufacturing company with my wife and children waiting at home every day. My boys are both athletic and intelligent, currently going to the same school their mother teaches at. I have everything I could hope for, and oftentimes it hinged on just waiting.
But not my brother. He ran off when he was sixteen, just after I left for college. He didn’t make it far. I don’t know exactly how far he went. He dealt drugs, at the very least. Guarded an illegal card game or two. Perhaps made a few collections. I don’t know how far he went, except once I visited and one of his newest shirts was missing. I didn’t ask what happened to it.
I waited.
He never had a wife, but he had children. Several of them, probably more than I knew. He didn’t pay welfare of course; he couldn’t. He bruised the women who asked for some help. I never saw this, of course, because he’d never do that in front of me. But I knew.
Still, I waited.
It took a while for me to figure out that he didn’t just deal drugs. I found him with the needle in his arm, but I didn’t yank it out. I didn’t over react. I didn’t try to scare him right.
Instead, I waited. I waited for something to change. I waited for him to change.
He never did.
I received the call a month ago, from the police back in my old neighborhood, saying that the body of a male in his mid-twenties was found in my childhood home. My parents were long gone, and no one had ever bought the house. I was the last living connection to that house – assuming, of course, the body was my brother’s. I buried him a week ago.
I had talks with him while he was still alive. I set a good example and even yelled at him once or twice. But mostly I just waited. I hate myself, now, for that. It is a stupid, useless feeling. It changes nothing. It was his choice anyway, and that’s not mere rationalization. It wasn’t my fault, and I can’t reasonably take the guilt away from him. But I hate myself, right now.
Right now. I know, some day, it’ll pass. I just have to wait.
Okay, I finally read through everyone else's and I must say ...We're a depressing lot.
good job edward, and yes, we are , lol
Sheesh, Edward, and I thought mine was sad...don't take that as a slight against your writing, it was very well done. Sad, but still well done.
Eh, I thought the narrative was too bare-boned, if you follow my meaning. Glad you liked it though.Your story was excellent, Logan. The pacing was good, the hook of starting at the end was flawless, and the depth of the character made it impossible to stop until the end of the story. Better yet, I continued to speculate about the theif after I had finished reading.
Just the dialogue was iffy.
Title: Waiting for BoothAuthor: Kat
WC: 643
I stood next to the water fountain, fidgeting with my hair. It had been a year since I had last seen him, before I went to investigate 2,000 year old bones in an Indonesian jungle, and he flew to Afghanistan to train army recruits in the art of the sniper. I still remember what he said to me, that day in the airport; “One year from today, we meet at the reflecting pool, on the mall, right by the coffee cart.”
But, I didn’t even know if he survived, I didn’t know if he had been Booth, or if he didn’t act like a hero, like I told him to. I checked my watch. 12:30. I surveyed the crowd, searching for any sign of his playful smile, his tousled brown hair. Nothing. Not one single glimpse. My stomach knotted in suspense.
One year from today…
The words echoed in my mind as the hours passed. I bought two cups of coffee, one for me, and one for him, if he showed up. No, I thought to myself. Not if, WHEN. Booth couldn’t be gone, he had to still be alive.
The crowd thinned as the shadows grew longer and the air grew colder. I wrapped my coat around my shoulders, just like Booth would do. My eyes teared up, and I turned to walk back to my car, thinking that this was a hopeless cause. As I turned, a familiar voice sounded behind me.
“Temperance! Bones!” I looked, and saw him, his hand in the air in a salute. I ran towards him, and he enveloped me in his embrace, his warm, loving embrace. I almost told him. I almost told him that I loved him too, that I loved him back. But I didn’t, because I noticed a blonde woman standing behind him. I pulled away, and looked at Booth.
“Booth, who’s she?”
Booth turned around, a loving look in his eyes, and it seemed like my heart was being torn into two. “Brennan, meet Hannah. I met her in Afghanistan.”
And that’s all he had to say. I could tell that he loved her, and that she loved him back. My heart was breaking, if hearts can break, because they are a muscle, so they would tear, not break….that’s what I told Booth…
One year from today…
I didn’t know things would have changed so much, a year from then. I didn’t know that I would admit to having my heart break, that I would ever admit to myself that I loved Booth. But now, he doesn’t love me back. He told me he had to move on, that our moment had passed. I wish it hadn’t.
I laughed, and put on a smile for Hannah, to show that I was okay with her and Booth. But inside, there was turmoil. I hated her. She took Booth away from me. And now, I don’t think that anyone will ever understand me as well as Booth does. I’m his Bones. The smile felt fake, but I kept it on. Waiting. Always waiting. Waiting to see how their relationship would fare, waiting to find someone for me, waiting for my heart to heal.
I went home alone, as always. This time, though, there would be no Booth knocking on my door, with Chinese Take-Out in his hand, and wondering if I had beer, or wine. This time, there would be no late nights, laughing at the lab, or the Founding Father’s, or even his apartment. Now, he would be totally integrated with Hannah. And my life would change, and I waited. I would put on a happy front, for I am happy for him, but I will never be truly happy. Because Booth would never ever be mine, I would never have a second chance. I blew it. Waiting.
One year from today…
this was inspired by the season 5 finale for bones :)
Then Hannah refused to marry him. Poor Booth.I don't even like Bones as a television show that much ... my mum just went on a DVR marathon last week. I did like the scene when Temperance and Seely wrote down the dates when they thought he would recover from Hannah and she'd be able to risk being hurt enough to give another shot, then burned the paper the dates were on. The show has its moments.
But the mystery show that I prefer is Castle, because motive is enough of a central point that you can usually give a fair guess as to the killer. In most cop shows it is too much about the evidence, which the viewers can't view or understand properly enough to make the mystery any fun. The fun part of mystery is having enough information to make an educated guess, then being delighted in the fact that I was wrong because of something they did happen to mention, but I overlooked, disregarded, or misinterpreted. In other words I like being fooled, but fooled fairly.
Also, occasionally, I like being right.
This was part of the fun of the Harry Potter books, in my opinion.
Isn't it irritating when television shows just keep breaking up and bringing back together couples? In this particular case it isn't so bad, but that is where Castle, and so many other shows, frustrate to no end. The storyline should progress, not constantly wobble between two fixed points. That's about as interesting as PONG must have seemed to the first players: Interesting the first few rounds, but the novelty quickly wore off.(For that matter, that's how most video games are and even the entire video game experiance. Video games have great story-telling potential that, sadly, is not exploited. Which leaves us with redressed versions of the same thing.)
I like Joss Whedon's Angel, but the one thing he fails at utterly are the romances. They never end well and rarely have plot significance ... well, except for that thing with Cordellia and Conner, but that was the most disturbing plot device in a long line of disturbing plot devices. More disturbing than the baby being kidnapped into a hell deminsion.
Yeah ... I watch too much television.
Wait, that's not why I started typing that comment. I was trying to drive at ... I agree with Stuart, Kat! You could do well to write season seven of Bones. Maybe I'd actually watch it.... This is what staying up all night really does: Once dawn comes your brain goes into overdrive, you become insanely hungry, and you make silly mistakes like not typing what you intended. Also you have an excuse to drink more coffee.
Can't; I'd wake up around 1700 and then my sleeping schedual would really be out of whack. I'll just try to stay awake until the Stations of the Cross, after which I'll probably pass out and have yet another long and vivid dream. I've done this before, in case y'all didn't notice. Bad habit.Time to rinse out the percolator again.
THanks stuart and edward! haha, maybe i should write season 7 lol
Katrina wrote: "I don’t like hospitals at the best of times. Oh wait is there ever a best of time in a Hospital? Hospitals at night though, with its dimmed lights and flicking faces of many televisions, reflecting..."Awesome Katrina Knight! Very powerful writing, sounds like you're talking from experience. And as they say good writers write what they know. Keep up the great work!
Logan wrote: "Excellent work, Katrina. Very powerful, emotional writing. Here's mine, a little long but hopefully not too tedious to read.
Title: Waiting for Someone Better
Author: Logan of Locksley
Word Coun..."
Logan of Locksley, great name btw.
Your story kept me interested from start to finished. Great job!
Stuart wrote: "thanks for you kind words and the appreciation shown."Alex (Reader, Writer, and All Smiles) wrote: "Nice start, Stuart! What's going to happen next? Lol, I'm quite curious as to who she is waiting for and what will happen."
No disrespect intended but when I read your story, Stuart; I got a sense of mystery. I liked that. The topic was "waiting"; not "what happened to who and why they were in the hospital..." i thought maybe you were just going with the experience the characted had "waiting". just an opinon. either way - nice writing.
just an opinion.
sorry i havent been contributing to much to this post...things have been nutz lately. short stories will have to be on hold for a while. i sure enjoy reading them though. good luck to all
It occurred to me that there is no reason Booth should have been called back into the military. Once one signs up they have an eight year obligation, four years of which is strictly active duty. If one signs up for six years, then they can only be called back within two years. Now if one is being paid a pension from the military, then they are given a thirty year retainment, but since one has to be in the military for twenty years to earn a pension, that means only ten years after and, at any rate, Booth was not in the military for twenty years before becoming an FBI agent.Calling him back would require him to volunteer, and permission from both his captain and the director of the FBI ... and in the end it would just be easier to find someone else.
Just a fact y'all might want to remember when y'all write about the military.
hello, do you watch the tv show? he did go back to the military
I'm not saying you were wrong, I'm saying the writers of the show were wrong. Which is typical. But irksome.
Kat wrote: "lady, did you read all of them?"lol....i dont vote if i dont read them...rofl
lol rachael, i wasnt talking to you, i was talking to lady lol
congrats to Stuart! there were some good entries this week.
Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don't use a story previously used in this group.
Your story should be ONLY 300-2,500 words long.
REMEMBER! A short story is NOT a scene. It MUST have a BEGINNING, MIDDLE, and END.
The topic this week is: Waiting.
The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject. I do not care, but it must relate to the story somehow.
Have fun!