Writers Central: Ahead (A Short Story)

Ahead

It’s hard to stare in the mirror without thinking that today is the day that I would have to say goodbye.  My eyes still have the remnants of last night’s tears. I leave out a sigh and plastered on some makeup. Today, I would have to say goodbye to people who’ve mattered and maybe even spare a glance to that one bully I had in 3^rd grade... That is if I see him.

I head down the stairs, putting on my joker’s mask, greeting everyone a sweet good morning. It would seem like my parents were wearing the same mask as I did. Mom was fixing up a batch of potato hash, Dad kept staring at the same page of the newspaper, while I sipped at the sweet, creamy coffee. This will be my last cup.

Writers Central: With Our Words (Part 1)

One thing I remember my sister said to me about love was, "Love is unfair. It doesn't give you the chance to breathe or think straight, yet it lures you in so fast in the beginning and flops you down like a rotten sack of potatoes after it's sick of you. Yeah. Unfair."

If YOU Share Your Stories

Hello there Misfit Booknerds! How's it hangin'? Are you writing anything or in the midst of it? Well, I have this little project that I am setting up and it's not exactly something important or anything. Let's say that this is a test run. A prototype.

So, I've been sharing my stories with you guys, short stories that have been swimming in my head for a very long time and you've all been very supportive about them, giving me constructive criticism and feedback, and I am truly grateful! Anyway, I want to set up this project where short story writers and poets can share their stories with my readers and hopefully share them with others they know. 

It'd be great if they have a platform in which they are writing their short stories like Blogger, Wordpress or Tumblr, so it'll easier to promote their page and won't require me to set up a post on my blog itself. It'll be more of a link. But other than that, there'll be an introduction of you as a writer. Maybe questions will be asked, like a mini-interview :)

Again, this is a prototype or a test project and will bear fruit if people actually want to participate or not. Writers that have not shared any of their stories are very welcome to share them here, where you will feel comfortable and not judged.

If you are actually comfortable sharing your stories with everyone, then please, shoot me an email at jayveedecastro27 (at) gmail (dot) com. You can attach a document of your story to share or the link of the story you want to share. It can either be a short or a poem.

The document must include:

1. Title of the piece
2. Name of writer/author and a little background of yourself. If you want to keep yourself anonymous, please use like a pen name so I could include it on the post's title :)
3. If you have a writing blog or book blog, I could promote that through links :)

Be sure that it's an original piece! Please, don't make it hard on any of us. I will check your document for any plagiarism :)

I don't expect this at all to be a big thing or will blow up from the beginning but I am hopeful still. LOL. I look forward to you submissions!

Those Days and Nights

Hello!!! It's been a while since I've actually shared a short story. It may be my lack of focus or will to write anything lately or I felt somewhat embarrassed with my stories. Good thing Germ Magazine gave me an outlet for my frustrations but also getting some tips from one of the editors. FYI: I'm actually a staff member of Germ Magazine. If you don't know what Germ Magazine is, then I suggest you read All The Bright Places by Jennifer Niven or just go to the website.

Anyway, I was given the chance to share my stories to a more diverse set of readers. It was also a good opportunity for me to challenge myself. So, I made this story for Germ, in line with it's February Writing Challenge. Unfortunately, this piece wasn't chosen but it gave me a confidence boost to know that the editor liked it still. I, however, would like to share this story with you lot! Tell me what you think about it in the comments or maybe tweet me :) Enjoy!

Photo courtesy of Rachel Kertz for Germ Magazine

The Bucket List (A Short Story)

So, it has been quite sometime since I last posted a short story. I have been writing, but somehow I find myself not confident enough to share some of my stories. But since I miss seeing what you think of the stories, I suppose that I can do with this one.

Her name was Lucy. She lived in the hospital I believe, or I just so happen to see her there, in Room 614 every day when I pass by. You see, my friend Clyde had an accident and had to go on surgery because his back got all deformed. I’m not really sure about it all, but yeah, Clyde didn’t like being alone in the hospital. His girl, Lois, broke up with him after the accident... Damn, that must’ve hurt, with the surgery and all. Anyway, he needed a friend, and being an awesome friend I am, I volunteered my ass off to help him recover at the hospital. 

It’s been almost a week since I gave away my freedom to entertain Clyde while he talked about Lois and how great she was at making cookies and laughing. I got sick of Clyde, so one day, I decided to stroll around the halls of the hospital. There wasn’t much, you know, “fun” stuff. It was like, I can’t touch anything or I’d break them. I sat at one of the staircases, just to relax, when I heard hurrying feet. A group of nurses, went on running to Room 614. That was the first time I saw Lucy.

To Die In A Summer Dress

(It's been 2 months since I last updated my Story Board page, but I have made a few stories, it's just that I've been busy with other posts. Damn, I am killing myself. I hope that you like this one, and please, don't murder me! Thanks Misfits!)

I hate people. The touch, the feel, the sound, I hate it all. If I can confine my senses and bottle them up, I would. I would walk past people, cross the street and think that God must hate me for putting me in a place so horrid where people would only look at their phones, slobber each other up and laugh at the most trivial and useless things. Where has the complexity of the world drifted? Everyone thinks that they are living in future, but they are a bunch of idiots if they think that since they can’t even do something easeful for the world. If everyone would just be intelligent enough, we’d all have flying cars and free passes to movies. I hate people. They make me sick.

THEM: A Short Story (HER, Part 3 FINALE)

(So recently I decided to pursue this story in my head. It will be in parts... THIS IS ITS END... or it depends on what you think. But I will apologize for stalling for so looooong! I always blame school Here it is. LE FINALE...)

(Photo Credits to Sheryl of WeHeartIT)

Try as they can, they could not bring themselves to talk to each other. he would only stare, she would only worry. But the strength in their feelings grew each day as he would sit on the counter, punching numbers, constantly thinking of what to say to her and she would stand there growing curious of his features and personality.

HIM: A Short Story (HER, Part 2)

(So recently I decided to pursue this story in my head. It will be in parts until I think that the story could end or even not end but I feel like it did... I'm sorry! I'm complicated! Anyway, here it is. Please enjoy!)

Photo Credits to Advanced Scribes

The order of things should always be the same. I liked it that way. My movements would be frozen by any changes in how I've always lived. 

I am blind. For 10 years, the world has been dark and cold, shapeless and indefinite...

But the order of things around me has depleted. The daily routine I forever would've lived with, has now been invaded by eyes I felt were looking at me.

You stood by the counter, waiting for the basket of things Anthony (if you would like to know is my chauffeur), carried for me. I felt every your every gaze, somehow piercing towards my skin and the blankness of my eyes.  Did you find me disgusting? Am I an eyesore? 

HER: A Short Story (Part 1)

(So recently I decided to pursue this story in my head. It will be in parts until I think that the story could end or even not end but I feel like it did... I'm sorry! I'm complicated! Anyway, here it is. Please enjoy!)

Photo Credits to IPickMyNose of DevianArt

I've always wondered about that existence of yours, whether you were real or just a fragment in my eyes, playing with my heart. It seems that I am playing with my own, hurting the very veins by the thought of you.

I've marveled at your beauty when we first met. I could not take my eyes off of your eyes. There was distance in them but they were never dead. You never did notice, didn't you? How I looked at you? You come by the shop almost everyday, with a man by your side. I envied him. He was near you, while I was in the counter, looking at you profusely, with all the intent in my heart to love you.

Poppy: A Short Story

(NOTE: First of all, I changed my Photo Junkie page into this Story Board Page!)

This is the first story I ever posted here. Please don't hate me for it! It's a typical story, so please don't hate me.. :')

Photo Credit to Fine Art America

There were times when Poppy would just pop up from our window and climb in to our house. She was a bottle of sunshine to everyone in the village. I loved how Poppy smiled and would take my toys and rip them apart like it was hers. She lived a few houses away from mine, but she became my friend instantly after a few bullies at the park ganged up on me.

“OI! Leave the kid alone!!! I think he’s had enough!”, she said to the other kids who were then, pushing sand to my face .

Since Poppy taller and bigger than most of the kids, they ran away and left me alone. She pulled me up, patted my clothes clean of sand and flashed me a smile. I think that was also the time that I knew that Poppy would mean more than a friend. She would be my strength.

Poppy was never the type to talk about herself. She just liked living for the day; play as much as she could, laugh as much as she could, but she never sat down to tell me secrets of her life. She never invited me to her house but she was always welcome in mine. I got curious.

One day, I decided to secretly follow her. The way she walked was much calmer and slower. She then stopped at one house that look shambled and distressed. I stared at her as she quickly rushed inside the house. She held her small, tattered coat as she went in, with her head down and a face that I have never seen. I heard incessant screams afterwards. They pierced through both my ears and heart. I wanted to go to the house but my legs won’t move. In a heartbeat, they moved the opposite direction, headed home.