Short Story Sunda...no, Thursday-#8

Another Writing Challenge

SORRY! I'm so late writing this. I've been extra busy with homework over-loads and just not enough time. I also wasted a whole ton of my time reading a really good book. Just because I'm late writing this story, I'm doing another one to make the people happy! In this one, I have to write about one of my fears. I have no idea how this is going to turn out. This probably won't be a story, be cause this challenge is more of a creative writing challenge than a short story challenge. Bare with me, OK?

My worst fear would have to be spiders. I know it's a common one, but they are extremely creepy. Eight legs. Beady eyes. Hairy. They could be anywhere and you would never notice. Gives me the shivers just thinking about it. Whenever I see a smudge on the wall, I freak out, because you never know! It could be a spider. Even though there is only a few species of spiders that can actually kill you, humans remain stubbornly afraid of them. I have come in contact wit these creatures multiple times, but I want to tell the world about the most memorable ones.

   The first one was when I was at the beach, and I was laying on my stomach a blanket on the sand with my legs outstretched on the blanket. The sun was shining bright in my eyes and my back was being scorched (or so it felt). Blue was all that the sky was. No clouds. My hands lifted up piles of the grainy sand and let it all run through my fingers like like a mini-waterfall of tiny rocks. Waves of sound rushed to my ears as waves of water rushed into the sandbar. What a perfect day to be at the beach.
   Then, I felt something on the back of my leg. It was a kind of ticklish feel. The feeling moved slowly up my leg and when it reached the back of my knee, I turned my head to see what it was. A spider. A great, big, brown spider half the size of my fist. Its long legs moving up and down, crawling up my leg. I screamed with great fright and brushed the spider off. I stood up from my comfortable spot and looked around. My dad was staring at me.
   "What's going on?" He didn't get an answer. I just stared at him. Well, I was really staring at his green beach chair. There had to be about six spiders on it.
   "D-dad...there's s-s-spiders on your chair." I choked.
   He stood, looked at the back of his chair and said, "Yup, there sure is. Go do something."
   I ran back to the beach house thinking, I can't stay there. It's infested by spiders. I saw plenty of spiders inside the beach house too. That beach was filled with spiders for the whole week we were there. *shivers*

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   The next one I'm going to tell you happened before the first one. I was in fifth grade and I was safety-ing for the kindergartners. Being a safety means that you help out in your fifth grade year and you help the younger kids cross the road or you just help the little kids get into school and out of it. I help the kindergartners line up outside in the mornings. One day, my friend and I were talking by the doors, because we had already gotten them lined up. The sky was grey and we were pretty bored. Then my friend told me that I had something on my head. She pulled my head down to her face to see what is was and pushed me away.
   "What is it?" I almost yelled.
   "There's a spider on your head!" I didn't need anyone to say anything else. I instantly started running around screaming. I ran in circles around the kids thinking my my head that I might be able to fling it off me. Then, a thought came into my head and I stopped running.
   "Is this a trick?" I asked. I had had plenty of people tell me that I had a spider on my shoe and then make fun of me for freaking out. There were some "cool" kids helping at our safety post an I didn't want to make a fool of myself.
   "No. This is serious. Bend down and I'll take it off." I did as she said, but she was too scared to take it off. So, I got another girl to swish it quickly off the top of my head.
   By now, all the little kids were chanting, "Kill it, kill it!" So, the other girl stepped on it.

Now you know my worst interactions with my worst fear! Hope you enjoyed hearing these stories! I'm still sorry I fell so behind. It's all the teachers' faults for giving me so much homework!

Short Story Sunday-#7

Valentines Day Writing Challenge!

I'm doing another writing challenge. Yippee! In this one I have to follow this set plot: Mailed valentine never arrives. Let's do this

   Charlie had picked out the best valentine for his girlfriend, Lizzy. He had found a box of chocolates with only one kind of chocolate, because she only liked milk. Piper told him that any other kind of chocolate just tastes weird. Charlie had also made a card by himself. It was pink and in the shape of a chocolate bar. On one side, he had written: Happy Valentines Day! Hopefully, you already knew that I loved you, but here's some chocolate to make sure! ~Charlie

   

   Now Charlie stood in front of the post office to mail it to her. He had written the address off a card she had given him a few weeks ago. Her handwriting was so fancy, that he could barely read it, but he was sure he had written the right address.

   When he reached the front of the line, they weighed the valentine. "Who's this for?" The lady at the counter asked.

   "My girlfriend, Lizzy." The lady nodded and put the valentine in a box of letters.

   "I know her. Great girl, she is. I hope she enjoys it. Next!" Charlie stepped away and out the door. The hard part was done. Now all he had to do was wait for her to receive it. He was so excited for her to get it tomorrow and tell him how much she loved it at school. He half skipped all the way home. Anyone who saw him might have thought he had just had his first kiss. But that had happened a while ago.

The next day at school, Charlie waited all day for Music class. That was the only one he had with her. When he did get there, she was waiting for him by his seat with a red card in her hand. 

   "Hey, Charlie! Happy Valentines Day!" She said when he walked in the door. She handed the card to him. It said: Happy Valentines Day, Charlie! All the chocolate stuff was gone from the stores, so I had to make cookies. They're in my locker, so I'll give them to you after school. They're chocolate chip. Your favorite.

   

   "Thanks, Lizzy. I can't wait to have those cookies. Did you get a valentine present?" He asked.

   She shook her head, "No, why would I? I'm your Valentine."

   "Oh, well, I sent you one. Did you not get it?"

   "No, maybe the mail people are taking a while to send all the valentines." He shrugged and turned to the teacher who had started talking.

   The class went by quickly for Charlie, and when it got out, he followed Lizzy to her locker for the cookies. They were golden brown with little chocolate chunks in them. Lizzy always made the best food. He gave two to her and walked to his locker. There, he grabbed his backpack, held the cookie box with both hands and walked outside. Charlie had told Lizzy to keep an eye out for a valentine in her mail box.

   The next day, he checked back in with Lizzy in music class.

   "Did you get anything?"

   "No, I didn't." his spirit fell to the ground. 

   "Are you sure?" he asked with a trembling voice.

   "Yes, I checked the mailbox three times." Charlie looked at his feet. Had he done something wrong? Lizzy put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "It's okay, Charlie. I'm not mad. I know you didn't forget about me and you tried." 

He looked up into her eyes. "Really?" Lizzy leaned over and quickly kissed his cheek. She looked back into his eyes.

   "Yes."

 

That was fun. I like it. Happy (late) Valentines day!<3 

   

Short Story Sunday-#6

Biology Class with the Foreign Exchange Student

   So, I was just sitting in my third hour biology class waiting for Mr.Porter to get on with the class. He was taking his time and getting off track. In the beginning of class, he had told us that we were going to do a fun activity. But there I was, halfway through the class and we still hadn't done the "activity". The thing that made this class even worse than torture was just Mr.Porter himself. He always spoke in a very monotone manner, never changing the pitch of his voice. He always used really long sentences and described things a little too much. Even when he talked about interesting stuff, most kids still dozed off. If he caught someone sleeping peacefully in an amazing world of light and color and DIFFERENT PITCHES OF THE HUMAN VOICE, you might as well chop your head off right before anything bad happened. It's too scary to talk about.

   Anyway, you get the point. He's a boring teacher with a bad temper. That'a not what I wanted to tell you. When we did get around to the "activity" everyone was super excited...until he told us what it was. 

    "Today, class, we are going to take blood samples. You are given a needle which you will use to prick your partner's finger and squeeze the blood onto a slide to put under the microscope." I watched a red leaf fall from a tree out the window. So...bored.

   When he let us go after a whole ton more of instructions, we all turned to our partners. Mine just happened to be a foreign exchange student from Chile named Sebastian. The second I turned to him, I realized something was wrong. His green eyes were bulging out of his head and his usually perfect brown hair that sticks up was messy. Everyone in the school knew that he runs his hands excessively through his hair when he's nervous. 

   "Sebastian. Everything okay?" I touched his hand and he pulled it away.

   "No needle. No poking." He scooted away in his chair and bumped into the wall. "Stay away. Now" Someone needs to help this guy with his English. "Teacher crazy. You crazy." Sebastian stood and ran across the room to the door. All the kids were watching now. He tripped on someone's binder, stumbled a little and fell to the tile floor. Before anyone could act, he quickly stood back up and raced out of the room.

   Mr.Porter told the rest of the class to stay put and he walked calmly out the door. We heard yelling and screaming and the voices of worried teachers who were trying to tech their own class. All the time, Mr.Porter's voice stayed at the same pitch, just with a new volume. Then there was silence. We waited for any sound.

   Not long after, Mr.Porter came back in the classroom, holding Sebastian by the ear. Sebastian sat down in his seat and was told to prick my finger and I put it onto the slide. He never got his done, so he just looked at my blood sample. The rest of the class was pretty normal (AKA: Boring) and that was one of the only exciting times in that class for the whole school year. There were a couple other incidents with Sebastian, but I don't have time to tell you. That also means that I'm too lazy to tell you.

Updates!

Hi, people! It's India! I have several things I want to let you know. So, here they are:

1. The story contest opened! I can't wait to enter and I plan on entering my best story from this blog. Can you help me choose? I'll put up a poll for you to choose the best story I have written. I won't be including the writing challenge one that I did for SSS #4.
2. On my short stories I have noticed that most of them had been really sad, so for the next few ones I'm going to try to give them a more happy mood.
3. Did you like the writing challenge I did for SSS #4? It was hard, but fun. I might do more challenges in the future.
4. I have been able to keep up with this blog fairly well. I'll definitely continue with this the best I can. I might even add a few more segments or recruit some people to work with me on here. It's going to be fun!

Short Story Sunday-#5

Cinderella--Kinda

   Cinderella waited for her turn to try on that glass slipper and prove that she really was the same girl that Prince Charming had danced with at the ball a few nights ago. She hid around the corner and watched one of her bossy stepsisters (Cinderella never learned their names) try it on. Prince Charming hadn't even seen her yet, but she knew that when she did, he would recognize her. This was the second one to go, the first stepsister had tried but couldn't get the slipper over the ball of her foot. The second stepsister sat on a stool brought out by a servant and took the glass slipper in her hand. 

   "I really was the one who danced with you in case you haven't recognized my face yet," she boasted.

   "Please just put it on. I don't have much more time," Charming begged. He was sick of all these women fighting to be his wife. He just wanted to go home and rest or go on a peaceful walk around his palace gardens where no crazy person could get to him. 

   The stepsister lifted her foot and pulled the glass over her toes. Then over the ball of her foot. Then over the middle of her foot. Then over her ankle. Her foot completely fit into the slipper! No! This isn't fair!  Thought Cinderella. Why did I have to go last? I was the one who danced with the prince anyway. 

    Cinderella was distraught. The first sister was jealous. The second sister was relieved that it fit. Prince Charming was delighted! He had finally found the beautiful girl he had danced with. Well, he remembered her to be more beautiful but this was still the girl he had fallen in love with. Right? 

   He took her hand and led her outside to the carriage. The prince kissed her cheek and said, "When we arrive at the palace, we will fit you with a beautiful dress and a diamond crown that sparkles in the sunlight." She smiled and stepped into the carriage.
   Cinderella, the other sister and her stepmother watched from the front step as the carriage was pulled away. The stepmother and sister went back inside, but Cinderella watched it until it vanished from sight. A silent tear slid down her face as she turned to go back inside. She still couldn't believe this. When she entered the house, she was immediately confronted by her stepmother.
   "You were the one who danced with the prince weren't you?" she asked with a menacing tone.  
   Cinderella looked up with wet eyes. "Yes, I did. But how did you know?"
   "Well, I was watching the girls at the ball and I never saw either of them dance with him. I knew you had gone, because when I got home, none of your chores were done. If I hadn't known that, then I would have known by those ugly tears you have. Honey, it's obvious." They looked into each other's eyes before the stepmother said, "Now, go clean yourself up! You have a lunch to make and your sister's clothes to pack for when she moves into the palace." Cinderella looked back at the ground and stumbled off to the bathroom.
   After splashing water on herself, she quickly made a lunch for the uglies and packed her stepsister's clothes in the finest bag she could find (the stepmother had made her use the prettiest bag for the future queen). Then, she ran the bag over to the palace. She had a plan.
   The guards let her through the first gate and the front door. The inside of the palace was even more beautiful then the night of the ball, but she couldn't pay attention to that now. She would have  plenty of time to marvel at the beauty if she became queen instead.
   A man told Cinderella that the queen was in the dining room with Charming. Before she opened the door, she heard the stepsister talking.
   "This food is amazing! Much better than what my stepsister, Cinderella, made for us." At this, Cinderella pushed open the doors. "Cinderella! What are you doing here?" The stepsister said.
   "Sorry to interrupt. I have your clothes from home." The sister took the clothes from Cinderella and gave them to a servant. "I see you have gotten used to being waited on."
   "Yes, it wasn't much of a change since you used to always wait on us." Charming stared at the sister. "Did I say that out loud?"
   "Yes, you most certainly did! I had a feeling you weren't the girl I danced with. You boast about yourself much too often and I remember the girl I danced with telling me that she had to sneak out from her evil stepmother and sisters' house to come to the ball. She said that she was forced to do all of their work. Why, she even pointed out her stepsisters to me! That was you wasn't it?" Cinderella nodded.  He figured it out! He stood from the table and called a servant to bring the slipper. "But I must make sure this is the right girl. I can't be fooled again." Cinderella sat in the chair and the prince slipped the slipper (I wonder why it's called a slipper?) over her foot and around her ankle with ease. It was a little too big. "Of course! It has to be too big because otherwise it wouldn't have fallen off."
   He took her hand and led her into the ball room. "You must dance with me to prove it. When your stepsister danced with me, she kept tripping." They joined hands and danced across the polished floor.
   From there, the prince knew that this was really the same girl. They were married a few weeks later and they lived hap--I won't finish, because I bet you know the ending.