#shortstory

3761 posts
  • willgosling 21m

    Frogle Popplegood Part 2

    Today was the day Frogle would fight back, or at least begin his plans to that effect. Phase one was to be a scouting mission. When Mr Tennenwald had gone to lunch, as he always did, at one o'clock exactly, not to return before at least half past three, Frogle closed the shop and entered the back room. He walked swiftly towards the huge, darkly stained pine desk, sat on the oversized wingback chair and lifted the desk lamp, extracting a small brass key. Mr Tennenwald had clearly thought Frogle would not dare to come in here unsupervised, and he certainly would not dare to touch the hidden key. There was not an iota of doubt in Mr Tennenwald's mind which believed that Frogle could possibly use the key. Maybe he might put it in the lock, just maybe, but hell would freeze over, get taken to another world, sink into that world's ocean, fossilise into the shape of a penguin and reform itself over the course of four months into heaven, before Frogle could even dream of turning the key.
    The lock clicked, Frogle pulled out the drawer and emptied the contents onto the desktop. He read the bold writing on the topmost piece of paper which stated in capital letters:
    TAXES OVERDUE. PAY BY THE END OF THIS WORKING WEEK OR YOUR SHOP WILL BE CLOSED DOWN.
    Frogle put it neatly to the side and picked up a small deep red card with golden writing which read:


    I have been Missy. Please call again. You know where to find me.


    Having placed this on top of the overdue tax note, and several others like it, an envelope was uncovered. It was addressed to Frogle. He stared at the small, neat writing on the front for some time before separating the already torn opening and slipping out the thick parchment within. Navy blue ink in the same neat handwriting as on the envelope, spelt out the words:


    Dear Frogle Popplegood,

    We would like to invite you to our open day on Tuesday 23rd February at St. Lemmink's College.
    As I'm sure you know, St. Lemmink's is an invite-only school, providing nothing but the very best education in all fields.

    Our Secretary of Dimensions informs us you have an unmatched knack for selling. It is in light of this that, as well as an invite to the open day, we formally invite you to join our ranks.
    We advise you to bring a spare change of clothes.

    Warmest regards,

    Best wishes,

    Sincerely,

    Looking forward to meeting you,

    Tom Bunni,
    Vice Principal of English,
    St. Lemmink's College.


    Frogle's mouth remained open for the second and third read through. Then his jaw clenched into a snarl. How could Mr Tennenwald keep this from him? After everything Frogle had done for Mr Tennenwald, everything he had put up with. It made no sense. The beating and the screaming and the humiliating, why would Mr Tennenwald torture him if he was worried Frogle might go elsewhere? Then he remembered the key under the lamp. Mr Tennenwald was an idiot, Frogle thought. He was a moron with more money than brain cells and the money kept coming in. While Frogle was around, Mr Tennenwald got richer. While Frogle worked all hours, Mr Tennenwald spent less and less time with his family, apparently spending more and more time with seedy, back-alley call girls.
    By the time Frogle's mind had come to the conclusion he would be quitting Harry's Piano Tunas without so much as a note to let Mr Tennenwald know, he was already walking into the shop front, where Mr Tennenwald stood. At first, Frogle didn't recognise the rage-twisted face; never had it been this dark a shade of red, nor had it ever seemed so deranged. Then the dark eyes saw the letter, still clutched in Frogle's hand, and an explosion happened. Heavy brass instruments flew at Frogle, making terrifying sounds which mingled with Mr Tennenwald's unintelligible shrieks as they crashed around the motionless shop assistant. Then came the howling woodwind instruments, the clarinets thrown like spears. Then the strings section screamed as they shattered violently before him. Frogle, although he had not moved a muscle, found himself entirely unharmed. He hadn't begun to comprehend the chances of so many near misses when a slightly unnerving tranquillity came over him. This was followed by a very unnerving tranquillity as though he was being forced to relax. He sat down. Then he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He felt air movements around his head as large objects narrowly missed him but even the sound was dulled now, as though far away, muffled behind a duvet.
    Suddenly, a very small, delicate hand touched Frogle's shoulder. He followed it upwards as it moved away from him and grasped it with his own without intending to. Moments later, he strolled down a street he had never seen before with a young woman whom he thought he recognised. She smiled at him, and he knew it would have been a soft smile if he could have touched it. Her pale grey eyes shone.
    "Are you from St. Lemmink's College?" Frogle asked, somehow knowing the answer before he'd started to mouth the question.
    "I am," said the woman.
    "Is that where we're going?" Again, he already knew the answer.
    "You are."
    "You're not?"
    "I'm not."
    "You saved me?"
    "I did."
    "Er... is Mr Tennenwald alright?"
    "He will be."
    "I don't know if that makes me happy or sad... why aren't you coming to the college?"
    The grey eyed woman looked at Frogle, then back to the street ahead, giving no answer, and he knew that one would not come. A sudden realisation hit him then and a genuine anxiety bubbled up from somewhere in his chest.
    "Uh.." he muttered quietly, "Could... could we go via my house? Only... I've not got... uh... a spare change of clothes..."
    Pale grey eyes beamed at him, and they continued towards the college.

    ©willgosling

  • willgosling 22m

    Frogle Popplegood Part 1

    Mr Tennenwald, the shop keeper from number twenty two Pennybark Lane was rather pleased with his new assistant. Sure, he made a hash of the displays, frequently mixed up customer orders and rarely showed up to work wearing both shoes, but he was cheap and he had an extraordinary flare with awful puns. He was also very cheap. Verrry cheap. Sometimes Mr Tennenwald felt somewhat guilty about just how little he was paying the boy, but at such times he always remembered that the assistant was just so incredibly cheap and the guilt dissolved in the glee.
    The shop assistant was named Frogle after his father and also, by a happy coincidence, after his mother, who Frogle Junior very swiftly learned was a hag. At least, that was what passers by had always shouted at her in the street.

    Frogle wandered back and forth in front of the shop shouting today's awful puns and waving at potential customers, beckoning them closer.
    "Any instrument bought, sold or tuned!" he yelled at them, "Live in a house but your piano's in 'A flat'? Got a tuber with a tumour? A flute with no toot? A violent violin? A drum with no snare? Wanna have a go on an oboe? Fiddle with a fiddle? There's a sale in our woodwind section - we're clarinet out! Come on in to Harry's Piano Tunas today!"
    Frogle's gaze dropped to stare into the pale grey eyes of a young woman who had apparently been lured in by his technique.
    "Good evenin', Ma'm!" he blurted out with what seemed to be genuine cheerfulness, "How can I help you today?"
    The young woman smiled but said nothing. There seemed to be no malice in her stare, and it did not make Frogle uncomfortable at all, but there was something which seemed a little odd. Something he could not put his finger on. It was like the memory of a familiar face, you can almost picture it in your mind but the harder you try the more it fades.
    This continued for what could have been hours, or could have been seconds, before the young woman turned into a throng of passing people, and was gone.
    Frogle immediately forgot her and continued his chanting.

    Several months came, went, then came again and Mr Tennenwald had never seen so much money come into his shop. This made him very happy or at least that is what he would tell you if you would listen. However, Mr Tennenwald's scale of happiness ran from negative five to positive five with none of the numbers between. So he was either averagely happy while he counted his money, or he was intensely miserable when he was forced to do other things like take his young children for a nice day in the park or have a meal with his beautiful wife.
    Frogle, although he was the sole reason for Mr Tennenwald's wealth, was frequently on the receiving end of Mr Tennenwald's negative five temper. He was beaten at least once a day, never for any reason Frogle could understand and screamed at the rest of the day; everything was Frogle's fault. He did not mind the beatings or the screaming so much as he was a tough young man of seventeen now, and jobs were hard to come by in Kranf City. He did however mind the humiliations. In fact, it would be fair to say, he minded the humiliations very much. Most recently, Frogle had been moments away from closing the sale of an unreasonably expensive violin to a pretty young girl from the private school on the far side of the city, when Mr Tennenwald had appeared from nowhere.
    "Thought you'd slack off did you?" he sneered, a disgusting satisfaction warping his grin, "Thought you'd court this one?" he threw an arm in the general direction of the girl, "Well perhaps she'd like to know your little secret? Eh? What do you think? Perhaps she'd better be informed of your unfortunate... ahem... growth... in the trouser department. Yes. I mean I suppose I'm doing you both a favour really. Better she find out now, from me, before she finds out down the line and breaks both of your hearts. No need to thank me." He disappeared into the back room leaving Frogle spluttering to the girl about how it was complete nonsense, to no avail.
    This had been the most recent of what felt like a lifetime of bullying. This was also the final straw. It was, in fact, the feather that burst the cushion.

    ...continued in part 2...

    ©willgosling

  • neuralnomad 9h

    THE WOODEN CHAIR (a thriller) part-1

    Bibhu felt tired. His ears felt hot. He touched one of them. Indeed it was warm. About a quarter of an hour ago he was feeling something else. Confusion. Pure, intoxicating, infuriating confusion.His brain had been going back and forth, until it had worn out. He needed some tea. But, for the last three days Pota Da was nowhere to be found. As if he'd disappeared into thin air, or worse, as if he never was.The tea stall owner had disappeared right after Bibhu's first episode. Or was it later? Or before maybe? Bibhu couldn't tell. His mind was blurry. It had been, for the last three days. Suddenly Bibhu missed his life. His life from three days earlier, before it started.

    Bibhu was never very ambitious. He expected little and usually got even less. But this disparity did little to bother him. He was just another nobody, who had, by the curious turn of Fate, failed to sustain his simplicity. Bibhu knew Kolkata rather well. This had gotten him a job as a city tour guide. His working season lasted only for about the three winter months of Kolkata, so the rest of the year, he earned his bread by doing odd jobs for his company.
    In this company of his, everything was for hire if you could shell out the cash. Some of the odd-jobs he did were indeed quite odd. One job had taken him to the hippy-para behind the New Market area to recover payment for a packet he was delivering, the contents of which he knew nothing about. Turned out his company had forgotten to mention they carried guns. But the fact that he had recovered the payment anyway, had earned him high praise. Before that he did not really have a proper shelter. Now he could sleep in the storeroom on the ground floor. It even had some furniture. Bibhu was satisfied with this life. He didn't care about things like rights and riots, equality and equity. Maybe because he didn't understand them. But even if he did, what difference would it make. He didn't freeload. He ate what he earned. Never pinched anyone. Why should he feel concerned or threatened by societal perturbations. But he often wondered what would happen if he did care. He'd probably end up like some of the people he knew, tirelessly in pursuit, but not having the least idea what it was they were pursuing. This is what he did every night. He sat on the only wooden chair in the storeroom and quietly thought away. Quietly thought away, until his heated brain lulled him to sleep. The next day would find him in his usual routine, starting with cleaning the office and then going off. But right now, he had all his time to himself. He could sit and contemplate all he liked. It was during one such contemplation, that the first wave hit him.

    #mirakee #writerstolli #mirakeethriller#mirakeetales#mirakeediary#arikmitra #mirakeeworld #writersnetwork #thriller #shortstory #amitra #neuralnomad #mirakeepoetry

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    ©neuralnomad

  • willgosling 17h

    Helzik Frinkle

    Helzik Frinkle's arm and ankle ached. He swung slowly, back, forth and side to side, sometimes in circles, as the dark city streets rapidly scrolled by below him. His arm ached because moments earlier, the part of the plan which had him resting in a comfortable leather sling for the late night journey, failed. It was only his quick reactions, born from a lifetime of thievery, that allowed said lifetime to continue at all. Although, it has to be said, probably with one fewer limbs or maybe, if he was lucky, he would lose only a hand. Halving his total number of hands, he thought ponderously, could have certain benefits. But, although schemes swam to the front of Helzik's head of fake-hand related cons, his cheery outlook momentarily failed him as the itchy hemp rope tightened around his forearm.

    The plan was several months in the making, the whole thing entirely his own thanks to Helzik's crippling trust issues. It began with a balloon built from scratch, Helzik's sewing skills now quite impressive after months of practice. The balloon was stitched from jet black, non-reflective fabric stolen, piece by piece, from Ol' Jerry's Tailorin' Supplies. The resulting mound of material was coated in a rubber glue from Shoe's & Socks, again stolen. Once the glue had set, a leather sling was added to the short length of hemp rope from which he now hung. The leather sling he'd had from Run 'n' Hide, the tanning specialists, and no, the sling was not stolen; Helzik Frinkle broke with tradition, just this once, to ensure a little luxury. After all, he would be in the air for some time, he might as well be as comfortable as possible. Run 'n' Hide would be getting one of Helzik's famous, harshly worded letters when all this was over, that was for sure.

    Finally completed, the balloon was filled with hot air generated by the large blue flame coming from the gas bottle on Helzik's lap. This was mildly dangerous, yes, with no valve to control the flow of the flammable gas, his only option was to hold on for dear life until the balloon lifted, then chuck the bottle. Fortunately, he suffered only minor burns to his left ankle as the flame plummeted away.

    It was not long after, that a joint in the sling came undone, swiftly followed by several others. Helzik wrapped his arm around the rope and grabbed hold until his strength failed him and left him dangling for a minute or so before the rather beautiful, ornate weather vane atop the church's highest peak caught hold of his burnt ankle. The balloon, taking instruction from nobody but the god of wind, continued onwards, probably snapping Helzik's arm and causing his shoe to be ripped from his foot along with a fair amount of skin.

    Luck had always been on his side, Helzik thought with an enormous grin on his sweating face. I mean, the chances of getting a foot unstuck without even twisting your ankle, never mind breaking it, were slimmer than Helzik could calculate, though he spent the next couple of minutes trying.

    It wasn't until the wide pale roof of Pete's Bank came into view, that Helzik sprang into action. He pulled a short knife from its sheath at his side and carefully reached up to the hemp rope, cutting into it slightly in preparation. With perfect timing, he cut through the rope, fell ten feet to the roof, landed awkwardly on his left ankle and heard the all too familiar crack of breaking bone.

    Thanking The Lady of Chance for the fortuitous non-breaking of his right ankle, Helzik crawled to the iron drainpipe which he knew to lead past Pete Rittannia, the owner of the bank's, office. Thin L-shaped iron brackets held the gutter to the edge of the roof. These made perfect splints, one for each side of his left foot, bound together with strands from the rope.

    Joy bubbled from Helzik's body, turning into laughter somewhere along the way; he could not believe this was going so well. His plans always worked, of course, but frequently with more terrible consequences. Once, he had broken his jaw, dislocated his shoulder, lost the fingernails from his right hand, lost a bet and stubbed his toe, all on a single job.

    He beamed at the city as he swung his legs over the edge and descended down the iron pipe one-handed to Pete's office window. Here he stopped to withdraw a tiny beetle from his waistcoat pocket and placed it on the glass. At once, the insect lowered its mandibles and began to walk in a large circle, scoring the surface as it went until the tiny scratching noise changed pitch slightly. Then, apparently knowing exactly what it was doing, the beetle walked into the centre of the circle, clamped down with all six legs and its jaws, then unfurled its wings and flapped frantically. There was a small "shink" sound and the circle of glass flew off into the night with the beetle.

    Moments later, Helzik crouched on the office floor in front of a safe, having only sliced one rusty wound into his thigh on an unnoticed nail protruding from the outer window ledge. The safe was a Durbang & Finn 1507 Kronnensuche, a model which Helzik had become intimately accustomed to over the years. Well known as the hardest safe to crack in the world, it was heavily favoured by those who wanted something protecting from thieves. Equally, being so hard to crack, almost every thief worth his pepper learned to crack safes on a Durbang & Finn 1507 Kronnensuche; if they could crack that, they could crack anything.

    Helzik had the safe open in a matter of three hours and twenty two minutes. This time was a personal best and required acknowledgement through the medium of dance. Singing would usually also be required by the formal laws of thievery but the mitigating circumstances in this case were quite clear, allowing Helzik to forgo that part of the ritual, though he would be sure to complete it later.

    Dancing done, Helzik withdrew the three things which the safe contained: a strange golden spoon, a photograph of what appeared to be an octopus and a filing cabinet insert containing a single piece of A4. This probably had writing on, but Helzik had absolutely no need of knowing whether or not it did, and if it did, what was written on it. He knew everything about the piece of paper that he needed to. He knew who would pay over two thousand erlings for it and that was a lot. It was more than the thief had ever had, or even seen in one place. It was enough to replace the gully beetle he used to cut the glass. It was enough to pay his medical bills once he had his ankle and arm fixed. It might have even been enough to make the final payment on the leather sling to Run 'n' Hide if he decided to pay them, but probably not. Helzik Frinkle was not into thievery for the profits. He was in it for the excitement, that hot electric sensation he felt when a plan worked and sometimes, even when it didn't. As long as he stayed free from the city jails, he would continue to wear a grin of contentment.

    "Good evening, Mr Frinkle," said a sudden, slow, deliberate voice from the corner of the room, "I think I would quite like you to return that to the safe if you wouldn't mind?"

    Helzik heard only the "good" before his reactions threw him head first through the hole in the window and before his mind even had chance to fully understand the danger. He had always reacted this way to sudden peril. There was no "fight or flight" response, as he had already flown before any alternatives could be thought up.

    Two nights later, in a flat above the Gaggle of Cats Inn, the sleeping form of Helzik Frinkle lay smiling. A vet stood over him, checking various instruments scattered about the filthy room, sometimes poking Helzik with one of them and analysing the reading.

    Helzik was completely covered in bandages. Luckily, there had been a pile of sharp iron filings which had been dumped in the street below the window of the office of Pete Rittannia. This cushioned Helzik's two storey fall beautifully. However, he was left with very little skin on the front of his torso, legs, arms and face. The vet spent day and night soaking and redressing the wounds, but still thought it unlikely that the bloody body would recover without several infections along the way. He told the now awake Helzik this, to which the response was a huge grin, and a gurgling rendition of the song: "To Whom Do I Owe An Erling?"

    Halfway through the chorus, which by this point was more bubbling throat noises than words, Helzik passed out from the pain, still beaming unconsciously at the ceiling.

    ©willgosling

  • j_chokshi 19h

    She Smiled Everyday!

    She has so much buried inside her heart, not knowing who to say;
    Leaving her broken, her trust now fading away;
    Her closed ones left, when she wanted them to stay;
    She knew she was hurt, yet she smiled everyday!
    ©J Chokshi

  • afza147 21h

    Fiction short story(1)

    This is just fiction short story that i made..

    Me: one of the protestor trying to overthrown the government
    Him : one of the minister who speaks out in the government
    What we have in common , our passion for youth empowerment.

    How we met? The first time i know him was by his activist before he become involved in government..soon he become known to all, and he campaign at my place. I was anxious and excited to meet him. It was the first for everything.Entering an arena where i never imagined, crowded with people also eagerly to hear his campagain.When he appear on the stage, the crowd and i started to cheer for him.

    After his speech, he goes down to take photos and engage with people.I took my chance and approach him.When i getting closer to him, suddenly a group of haters come march foward too pushing me who are in the same direction.i could not move my body and suddenly i was thrown at someone.
    And that someone catches me in his embrance.Since the moment was fast and chaotic, i didnt get chance to see his face as i close my eyes.

    I am hearing police started to marched foward as they shouting to the group to back down.i open my eyes as that someone still hold me in his embrance.i look up to the face, and he notice my movement and look at me .we were looking at each other for a second in that chaotic time.The feeling was numb , at the same time calm.if its like we shared a small space together.It was him who i known for his act and the one i saw today for the first time.

    To be continue..
    If this post gets more than 20likes,i would continue, if not, this will be the end..
    Thank you for reading..
    ©afza147

  • neuralnomad 1d

    THE BOTTLE
    Akhil sat still in horror and amazement.Just a while ago, he didn't know what to feel.His brain had gone into a hibernation of sorts.His friends lay dead before him.Their bodies all white and shrivelled up, lying in a stillness that could only be conjured by Nature.It was as if dying hadn't been enough. Someone had wanted to drain their existence, until nothing was left, but shed skin.Akhil smiled, his eyes protruding out in psychopathic menace, very similar to that of the man, who had sold him the bottle of packaged drinking water.It had been Rajat, who had spotted the stall.He had been enjoying the view with his binoculars. The question of thirst had persisted for sometime.All of them were rather shocked to see a water stall in this middle of nowhere. The man had handed him the bottle with one hand and taken the thirty rupees with another. There had been no botherance from either party to make conversation.But his smile.Akhil could not forget his smile for quite sometime after that.Akhil had been the only one who hadn't drunk any.Once settled inside the cottage, he had gone outside looking for firewood. He had even found some.
    All that greeted him upon return were the shrivelled, dried up corpses of his three friends. He had been sitting in one corner of the floor ever since. It was almost dark now.He finally got up.There was no question of connectivity, so he didn't bother to call anyone. He dragged the bodies one by one out in the back of the cottage and left them there.Everything would have to wait until morning.Though staying awake most of the night, Akhil had fallen asleep in the last hours of darkness.His was woken by the light from the opposite window falling on his face.He'd have to try and contact the police now.Maybe even walk a few miles before finding anyone for that matter. Before leaving, he head out to the back.His first shock awaited him.The bodies were gone.Suddenly he was afraid.He froze for sometime before running out to the front of the cottage. Here the second shock awaited him.Once he saw it, he could not keep to his feet.He saw his three friends, all alive standing in a half-circle with sullen, teary-eyed faces.But that wasn't the element of shock.The thing infront of them was.It was Akhil's dead body, white, shrivelled up, shed skin as if someone had drained it's existence. Or washed it off.Washed it off? Why did he suddenly think of this? He didn't know what to think anymore. He couldn't even get up on his feet.He wanted to get up and walk up to his friends, who had, by now, lifted the body inside the car and were preparing to leave.He fell back to the ground as fast as he had gotten up from it.On the opposite side of the road, standing under a tree, someone was waving at him.It was that man from the stall.He still had that smile. That psychopathic, menacing smile.

    #writerstolli #writersnetwork #wash#horror#mirakeethriller#mirakeetales
    #mirakee #mirakeeworld
    #horror #shortstory #thriller #amitra #neuralnomad

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    ©neuralnomad

  • danial_ali 1d

    @mirakee #mirakee @writersnetwork #challenge #horror #horrorstory #shortstory #death #paranormal @writerstolli

    My entry for the horror challenge by Mirakee. Hope you all like it.

    Read my other horror stories here : #horror_byDan
    ___________________________________________________

    A Night's Work

    "Alright... Sounds great!" Said my dad as he cut the call, his expression cheerful.
    "You wanted to visit me on work right? I'll take you there today, Sofia!" He motioned towards the door.

    And before I knew it, we were both sitting in the car, dad driving eagerly. After all, it's hard for quarry workers to find jobs in the winter.

    Although I had an uncanny feeling about the sudden job offer, the grave tone of the construction manager and the obscure location of the dig, I knew better than to say all that to Dad. Something just didn't seem right, but maybe I was anxious for no reason.

    The next few hours passed slowly, the manager guided us to the digging site, and we made our way deep into one of the tunnels through hundreds of seemingly lifeless faces, all of them working in an unnatural way. At the site dad set to work and I did what I loved doing, observing him.

    Suddenly.. all the workers stopped. Altogether. They dropped their tools, equipment, and their heads jolted up with an excruciatingly audible crack as deafening groans escaped their desolate mouths..

    I ran screaming at the top of my lungs at the horrific sight, I barely reached the light at the end of the tunnel when the roof of the tunnel collapsed, and all went black.

    When I woke up, I could see light tricking through a little opening.

    A old man who was passing by spotted me trying to get out and helped me.

    "Ya a'ight little one?"

    "Yeah, I guess..." I barely murmured as I sat up, fighting pangs of pain in my head.

    "Where's Dad!? Where's everyone?! What happened?"

    "What're ya talkin' about?"

    "The tunnel, the quarry...it collapsed! I...I was in there with him..and then it all went black...where.. what....DAD!!"

    Suddenly the man's face went white, as his fingers trembled and slipped off my shoulders..

    "Oh God..er... For one, you're right, the quarry collapsed..."

    "Yes! The workers...it was horrible.. but.. what's happened?!" I was losing patience now.

    "But...how could that be...?" The man whispered to himself.

    "Just say it!" I yelled.

    "The quarry.... collapsed 3 years ago.."

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    A Night's Work

    When I woke up, I could see light tricking through a little opening..
    (Read Caption)
    ©danial_ali

  • yatharth_singh_chauhan 1d

    Tears

    The tears in my eyes aren't sorrow but revenge. However, you don't have to panic, I'll be over soon.
    ©yatharth_singh_chauhan

  • j_chokshi 1d

    MOVE ON!

    She stood there still, in the silent streets;
    Back to the memory lane, fastening her heart beats;
    For all she knew she couldn't hold on;
    That's when she realised, she had to move on!
    ©J Chokshi

  • crescent 1d

    "You and I never talked until today so I thought maybe it would help, you know, like an Ice breaker."

    10 questions.



    A car swerving through the busy roads,

    Will the lights ever turn green?

    ******************************************************




    Hi friends, please do read the short story. It is kind of silly buy I hope you enjoy it.

    And I you liked the story, drop your thoughts. It is in Wattpad and the link is in my bio.

    #writersnetwork @writersnetwork @mirakee #mirakee #pod #shortstory #story #traffic #ice #love #comedy #crush

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    ©crescent

  • annaliese 1d

    Eldritch

    I
    Do You Believe in Time Travel?


    I stood in the middle of a road the day my life stopped.

    I didn't know what I was doing there, but judging by my clothing, it wasn't good.

    So much time had passed since I began possessing this empty corpse, but I couldn't forget the outfit.
    I couldn't forget anything...

    As I leveled my gaze my dread deepened.

    Everyone I'd known before the death day stood before me: each "close" member of my family and those whom I'd considered friends.

    They stared at me.

    Through me.

    No one said a word and even though I could feel a scream boiling inside me, I found that I could not.
    The air felt heavy and I was seized by the feverish tension of a mad-eyed, red-string conspiracy theorist. I knew there was an answer but there were no words to be said--
    no clues to be found.

    Just me.

    On the street.
    With my life's worth of acquaintances piercing me with hollow eyes and blank faces. They appeared as bodies, recently dead, who had reanimated and emerged from their wooden shells.

    In the distance I heard a noise --
    the sound of something cutting through the wind...
    I lifted my foot.

    Or at least...

    I'd intended to.

    I'd barely had the time to brace myself as the asphalt came hurtling toward me.

    The pain made me wince as my legs bent in an unnatural angle. I could feel the weight of my body straining my bones.
    Biting my lip through the pain, I righted myself.

    I knew I had to examine my situation.

    I also knew that whatever was slicing the air was big.

    And close...


    II
    Long, Hard and Coming Quickly


    My shoes were wedges, but wedged they were not.
    They also didn't appear to be stuck to glue or tar. (Nothing had crept up the sides and soiled them.) But the biggest indicator of this was just how stuck I was--
    like I had been magnetized to the ground.

    I took a deep rattling breath and tried to calm the heartbeat that threatened to tear through my chest.

    My mind slipped briefly to the thought of staring at my heart on the pavement. Of watching it tremble like a fish without water.

    No. I couldn't lose myself to mental meandering.

    I could see lights appear in the distance.
    I could hear the familiar hum of tires on asphalt.

    I tried again to call out to the people standing around me but their deadpan faces told me all I needed to know. I was screaming mutely on deaf ears.
    Doubly useless.

    Bending down I made one last attempt at freeing myself.
    The buckles in my shoe gave no way.

    I sighed deeply, resigning myself to the fate, I now knew, I could not escape.

    Faces of the onlookers were as blank as ever, yet something in their stare seemed to have changed. The air felt heavy, expectant.

    My hands trembled as the shape in the distance began to materialize.

    A bus.

    A freaking bus.

    Go figure...

    Having accepted the inevitably of my death, and the blind deafness of those who stood before me, I allowed my mind to wander.
    If only for a brief reprieve.

    I giggled, (silently), at the thought of some cartoon death sequence in which the bus pulled me against it and straight out of my shoes.

    After all, it had been a long time since I'd been swept off my feet.


    III
    The Impossible Reunion


    The impact itself was essentially painless.

    Essentially...

    What really sucked was the aftermath.

    The cracking, squishy sound of bone and flesh colliding with metal thrummed in my broken head.
    Laying in a twisted pile of my own limbs and blood, I did my best not to breathe. Each small swell of my chest felt like claws in my skin.

    I did my best to settle myself, (to keep from crying), knowing what havoc it would wreak on my already mangled body -- what excruciating white lightening would set me internally ablaze.

    This knowledge, however, did not increase my tenuous self-control.
    A single tear rolled down my cheek, the salty drop finding grooves to explore in my new facial topography.
    I drew in a sharp breath as the seering heat enveloped me.
    Stretching a wound in my chin, I bit my lip. My mouth filled with the familiar, coppery taste of blood.

    My peripherals allowed me, (without additional torment), to take stock of the scene around me:
    The first thing I noticed was that the bus remained on the street.

    Not far.

    Up a hill.

    It took a full mental debate to remind myself that the agony would not be worth acknowledging my desire to roll my eyes. It wasn't until an alarming thought crossed my mind that I finally conceded...

    There was no way I was getting out of this.

    I wasn't strong enough to pick myself up. And even if I somehow managed it, I knew that that bus would only begin its descent and finish me off.

    Or not.

    I could break a few more bones and still cling to life. Mine has always seemed desperate for suffering; I'd never bet against my particularly bad brand of luck.

    The second thing I noticed was the empty grass.
    Blank faces and pressurizing stares no longer penetrated my being.

    I was alone...

    And that hit me with more force than any bus could.

    It's not that I wasn't accustomed to being alone; I'd been alone most of my life. I just never expected everyone I cared about to watch my suffering in silence and then abandon me so completely after total devastation.

    I guess I should have though...
    I mean, really!
    I should have figured that to get everyone I cared about in one place would be the death of me...


    IV
    The Mouth With the Diamond Teeth


    It felt like I lay there on the cold asphalt for an eternity, my eyes closed in a lengthy blink.
    When I opened them again velvet darkness had overtaken the sky.

    Pushing my emotions back, I began to realize how much effort this half alive existence was going to require.

    I was mid-thought when I noticed that a portion of the sky seemed to have peeled back and glittering starlight seemed to hang in a smirk.

    My brows drew together in curiosity and the pain surged again, closing my eyes. When they'd reopened the velvet had creased -- into a frown...

    "My dear child. The middle of the road seems hardly the place for a nap." A voice hissed from the sky.

    I adjusted my position uneasily.

    "If you need help, why not ask for it?" The starlight played strobes with the pace of the sky's slithering speech.

    Tears welled in my eyes as I remembered my desperation -- my attempts at calling to those around me and how fruitless they had been. I set my jaws and rolled toward the diamond teeth.

    "Couldn't..." I croaked.


    V
    Edgar Allan, Woe Is Me


    Pressure rose in my throat with the realization of the sound that had finally manifested.
    My voice.
    Tears raced to fall, unstoppable despite the torturous strain on my body. My breath ran short, my abdomen cramped, my cheeks burnt....

    The sky laughed.
    "What a game!"

    "Game?" I growled. "Game? I'm literally laying in a puddle of myself with an enormous amount of metal threatening to obliterate my existence, and you think I'm playing? Playing what?! The Pit and the Pendulum?!"

    Even as I spoke my mind was racing. How was it that I couldn't speak but minutes ago, yet now I was coherent to enough to be sarcastic with a disembodied, floating mouth?
    Was I dead?
    "Perhaps a coma," I thought, remembering that life was not the type to lose its favorite plaything.

    "You most certainly are. I can't see any other reason you'd be laying in the middle of the street. Haven't you seen how selfishly people drive?" The words took on a lyrical, mocking tone.

    "So I am in a coma?" My voice dropped but my mind was hopeful. If I was in a coma that certainly explained the pain and the surreal nature of recent events.
    But more than that, it gave me a chance to wake up.

    The faceless velvet lips somehow managed to convey a look of confusion.
    "What would give you that impression?" The voice asked dismissively. "What are you doing down there anyway -- all bruised up."

    "Bruised? Have you seen me?! I'm broken!" I cried out. But even the force of my voice told me something had changed. I looked down to see my chest no longer crushed and bloody, my arms no longer bent or broken, but merely bruised.

    "If you say so." The lyricism took a patronizing tone.

    My voice caught in my throat. I could feel bile rising from my empty stomach, stinging my throat with bitter acid.

    "B-b-but the bus...." I stammered.

    The starlight stretched into a looming, accusing smile.

    "What bus?"
    ...



    ©annaliese

  • j_chokshi 1d

    The Girl In The Rain!

    For all the times you hurt her and made her cry;
    You left her broken for someone new, now she does not want to give him a try;
    She is someone who hides inside her pain;
    Yes! She is the same girl you saw the other day, crying in the rain!
    ©J Chokshi

  • syahikar 1d

    My story

    Moon~"Hey...!!guys that weirdo is back out again staring at me..look ..look"
    .
    .
    Stars~"Naaah he is our fanbwoy.."
    .
    .
    Sky~"Stop it..you two he is here to paint.."
    .
    .
    "Paint..!!?? oh c'mon Tell us..Where is his canvas..?? And what he will paint in this dark.??."
    .
    .
    Sky~"Every night he paints her on me..I am his canvas....Every night he breathes her through me...."
    ©syahikar

  • an_empathetic_soul_ 2d

    2 Strangers under the Moon
    Part 1
    Staring at my feet I walked
    As if my shoes are the more interesting thing than any other at this moment.
    It's half past nine in the evening but who cares right!
    I was Strolling through the streets to go to a place.
    A place which I'm in love with
    Paradise to be precise.
    A park little far away from my home.
    I laid down on my back gazing at the sky.
    As I Got lost listening to the conversation between moon and the stars, I failed to notice a silhouette.
    It moved closer, the silhouette.
    I was horrified.
    "Hey" he whispered
    "Hai" replied some uncertain voice!
    Okay I am now startled coz I realized it's my voice(mental face palm)
    "Can I? " he asked, indicating that if he can sit beside me.
    "Yeah, Of course " I replied with same uncertainty .
    "I'm mahin" he introduced.
    I was quite. Not knowing what to do.
    "Everyone has a story to share with moon I guess"he said. I remained quite unsure of what to say.
    There was silence for what felt like hours but it's actually just few minutes.
    To Break the awkward silence I asked "So, what is the reserved story you are here to share that moon deserves to hear?! "
    He raised one of his eyebrows, with knowing smirk he replied "My Moon's Story"
    I slightly laughed
    "Eventhough it sounds cheesy, She's The Moon to my Darkest nights" he said with a spark in his eyes identical to that of a star.
    I gave him a small smile.
    "Then what happened you came to see THIS moon!"
    "You know moon doesn't shine daily,right!" he said after 2 long minutes of silence.
    Now, It's my turn to be silent,not knowing what to say.

    ©an_empathetic_soul_


    To be continued ...




    #2Strangersunderthemoon #shortstory
    @riskyrose @stop_my_mind @cheerfulmadwoman @shirisha_06 @star_gazer_ @niche_
    Tried for the first time����
    Don't mind if it's not good ����������

    Read More

    .

  • syahikar 2d

    LOSER LICENCE

    Society~So what you wanna do with your life...
    Me~Live it..!!
    Society~No..No..we take your life In ecxhange we will give you norms...
    You live them not life all right...??
    Me~But I got my own terms...
    Society~Ok...then we have another loser...
    *shouts*"Neeeexxxtt!!!"
    (I leave as another guy walks into society's office for successful/Loser licence.)
    ©syahikar

  • neuralnomad 2d

    September 4, 2018
    It has been almost two years now, since the war ended. Well, sort of.As is inevitable, once a war, where everything is taken apart ends, another one begins. This one, to put things back together. But the way I see it, a decade or so may go by before a relatable picture is put back on stand.The war is no more, but the hatred still exists.Occasional persecution and executions remain.My current hideout is known only to me and my brother Angshu.They have not been able to find me.I believe Angshu is still alive, for I am the only one who knows where he is. Our family, our friends are all dead.As it stands, even if alive it is impossible to find them.I have given up all hope of ever seeing them again. All I can do now is survive somehow.

    September 6, 2018
    Yesterday I was missing a teacher of mine, who had taught me english back in secondary school.A kind, old man of about.....

    September 7, 2018
    Yesterday I brushed with death once again.It has been a long time since something like this happened. I was just about to write about my english teacher, when I heard a thud.Suddenly all my muscles tightened, ready to respond. As I opened the door, a man tried to enter the room.He was one of them! I banged the door on his hand.He let out a scream and withdrew.I shut and bolted the door.It was a close call.Though I had weapons ready, I didn't want to use them unless necessary.

    September 9, 2018
    The last two days have been a tormenting nightmare. They just keep coming. It seems they've found out the secret of this hideout after all.This translates to the fact that my brother is dead.So, I have no one left.The only thing I can do now is take the secret to my grave.Yes, that's the only way.No one must know.No one.I hope future generations get a world where they can find it easier to live in, than to die. This is my last entry in the diary.
    Ratul Sinha committed suicide in his room on September 9, 2018 at around 11 am in the morning. He was suffering from paranoic schizophrenia for the last two years, living constantly in an imaginary, post-apocalyptic world.He hadn't come out of his room for the last ten days, his condition deteriorating everyday.He trusted only his brother, who has been dead for five years now.A curious thing was the mirror in his room. It had been covered with photographs from a family album.It seems he did not wish to see himself any longer for reflective, shiny objects if any, had been removed. The only exception had been a small hand-made, metal figurine.It seemed like the figurine of a soldier.

    Image credit- geulgram

    #writerstolli #mirakeethriller#mirakeetales#mirakee #mirakeeworld #shortstory #amitra #thriller #soldier #reflections #neuralnomad #arikmitra

    Read More

    ©neuralnomad

  • sad_laughing_soul_ 2d

    A #shortstory explaining my #life

    Read More

    She always sleep when she’s heartbroken and wakes up when she’s not. One day she slept and never woke up.

  • life_is_awesome_byritudhankhar 3d

    Question?

    Now when i am not missing any more,
    Tell me the truth am i being missed now??

    ©life_is_awesome_byritudhankhar


    अब जब मुझे और याद आना बंद हो गया है,
    सच कहना मैं याद आने लगी हूं क्या??

  • lovichild 3d

    Chapter 6.2 uploaded
    Starting of the storm ....

    Sorry for long and all .
    If a story end with happy endings does that means, the characters ends too or they live happy ever after ?

    Funny right there would be two update I think so because I want to complete it even if I can't. It's up to you guys to like .....

    #mirakee #writer #coffee #mirakee_reposter #pod #onelinereality #reader #love #repost #writer #coffee #crush #girl #badboy #shortstory #teen #teenmind #teenromance #dramaqueen

    Read More

    My silent crush

    When mom died I didn't had someone beside me except grandpa and grandma. Aunty was busy finding dad , yet he didn't make it to the end . Sister was busy with her own misery, at that time noah was only one to sit beside me when I cry because I missed mom so much . I was the loner personality, in home and in school too . He was going through asthma issues yet he was with me and I did the same thing when his parents died . His parents were love birds, it was like we had each our back at the time one was down . A smile cracked to my lips , I still remember the time how we fight against her sister bullies. We were so small 12 and 13 year old kids yet we fight against 15 year old bullies . "Mabel your phone is ringing" aunty shout for me from downstairs I ran and take my phone. Unknown number? Who it maybe .
    I take the call without any second thoughts, I didn't say a word and wait for another person to say something. "Hello dear ,seems like you forget about me and give up . Too bad I didn't like that " a male voice ring against my ears . Who it may be , is noah pranking with me again? "Hello dear are you there ?" The male voice dosen't seem like noah .
    "Who is it" I asked keeping my voice low as I can . I am getting nervous, why ? I too don't know . Is someone pranking me ?
    " me ? Your savior " the caller chuckled. Third person.
    I was so nervous that I cut the call and blocked the number. He said not to find about him and so I even forgot about him , why is he calling me now to scare me . Wait from where did he get my number?
    "Mabel help me out here , ready the table for dinner " grandma called me to help her .
    Even the food was delicious, I can't taste anything. The food wasn't going down through my throat. What is going to happen now ? .........................................
    A new week started and exams are at the corner . But all I can think is about that call , sana came and it was so awkward to sit beside her . She was uncomfortable beside me the whole day . " mabel , I am sorry " she call me out while passing me a chocolate. "Uh why ?" I asked without even thinking, " you know I used you and blame you too . " she smiled bitterly and continued "when he broke up with me ,I found that he was looking another girl. He wasn't worth for me" - with that she burst into tears , I hugged her and said "It going to be okay " . " but its didn't change the fact you back bite her , if you haven't said . Sana wouldn't be suspended " Bianca said while folding her hands " how many time should I sat I didn't said anything " I raised my voice and rushed out from the class.
    It's all because of that third person, even everything seems to be ok . I am getting blame for back biting. " mabel " I heard someone called me so I turned around, Aaron was running towards me . "Thanks for the pen ,last time " he smile sweetly again. I don't if i was so nervous or his presence make me breathless . I suddenly passed out....
    ©lovichild