short story

I've never seen When Harry Met Sally, but I’ve heard the principle – that guys can never be ‘just friends’ with a girl.Now as far as Helen and I go, you’d think we blow that misconception straight out of the water. We hang out all the time and have tons of fun together. She often tells me that I’m her best mate and tells me everything - like we’d been friends all our lives.But while

What do you do when a teen comes into the library and they’ve read all their favorite author’s books and they’re still hungry for more? Of course there’s book-lists, read-alike lists, as well as staff and teen recommendations, but how about offering up a short story collection that includes a story by a teen’s favorite [...]

Last month, I posted a call for RPGBloggers to create a short story as part of NaNoWriMo. You can see the schedule below. So far it’s going really well and the story is turning out great. I can’t wait to see how it ends! November 9th - Part 1 November 16th - Part 2 November [...]

                                                           AUTHOR : NAVAL LANGA                                                                           I HAD NEVER EXPECTED the revival of my life, in such a full swing. I never expected that I would start learning to live so differently. Till that day the signature my past had pu

AUTHOR : NAVAL LANGA I HAD NEVER EXPECTED the revival of my life, in such a full swing. I never expected that I would start learning to live so differently. Till that day the signature my past had put on my life had not faded.Until that day I had fiercely guarded my heart from letting it out. But on that day I was on a journey, the journey that changed everything that was I. The journey worked li

I have tried to narrate and show in this short story that somethimes WE face a strange situation. We are unable to decided whether an incidence occuring before our eyes is FACT or a FICTION. Here by the word 'we' I do not mean only the writers and poets.  AUTOUR : Naval LangaENTIRE CITY WAS under fire.From my third floor window, it looked like a woman who had committed suicide, by setting fire on

AUTHOR : NAVAL LANGAHAD IT BEEN a normal day in office, I would have called my assistants in my cabin, in order of their height, their intellectual height. Then each one of them would get sharp-bordered printouts, with deadlines bolded on top left corner. Their day’s work. It was my formula by which I had made my official journey smooth. My life was not my planning. It was not like that I took a

mainly in eastern & central europe, but also in western part.long way. short negotiation. they say red, you say ok. end of story.anyway, who cares about the colour when you get a warm meal in the cold winter.

That was sixteenth century, when medical and technological advancements were in their formative days. During that age, a 12 year old boy, when playing with his friends got injured severely in his hand by getting stabbed by a sharp metal point. The boy was hurried towards the physician for treatment. The mother soothed her son saying, “Dear! Don’t worry about this wound, you will convalesce soo

Getting up from bed, yawning, Saaya drew the blinds to let the Saturday morning sunlight into her bedroom. She watched the world pass by as she watered the pink flowers that graced her windowsill, excited about her date with Karan. They both had been busy the whole month and had not been able to spend much time together, and desperately needed this long-awaited weekend. Even if she didn't get to

I don’t know where I was walking. I don’t know where I started and where I am going. But, I continued my walking. The surroundings were filled with complete darkness and I couldn’t observe even the way, I was traversing. As I was moving, suddenly, a hand touched me at back, and after which, a flash of light showed me that one forward leap might have made me fall from a steep abyss (a deep ho

Mitchelstown International Short Story Competition 2008, formerly The William Trevor Short Story Competition, is now accepting entries.A shortlist of 20 stories will be selected by well known short story writers Nuala Ni Chonchuir and Vincent McDonnell, from which the winners will be chosen by writer John MacKenna.Each story should contain a maximum of 3000 words and should be submitted, by post o

There was an old beggar living near a tourist spot. The tourist spot is a forest and it is famed for its rich resources of woody vegetations and wild animals. When the old beggar was in his final years, he looked back at his life-track which he had traversed with list of sinful activities. He indulged in number of cruel murders, sinful thefts, child trafficking, smuggling etc. which repelled his p

He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown. The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, ‘What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That’s a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money Why did you do it?’ The young bo

This was his new car, a father bought after days of build-up desires. It was his first drive with his five year old son in a highway line at the outskirts of the city. The child excited about the new trip said enthusiastically, “Papa! It is your gift to me and I will be careful that nothing will happen to this car.” Listening to his son’s words with smile, the father insisted, “Munna! Wea

Nothing had changed since Nikoleta had left the room. The sunlight still misted down in slants from between the blinds, chalking the air white, coating the hardwood floor in long yellow bands. Dust flowed through the sunlit currents and no breeze stirred it. Since she had left the room, the world had slowed to a [...]

عورت   -  افسانہ  حقیقی واقعات پر مبنی ،عورت کے استحصال کی ایک کہانی ۔۔ ’’ اس کا شوہر آٹو رکشا ڈرائیور تھا ، اچانک ایک حادثہ کا شکار ہو کر چل بسا۔ شوہر کی کمائی کے علاوہ اور کو ئی ذریعۂ روزگار نہ تھا ۔بچّوں کی پرورش اور تعلی

The Taste of Melon is one of the set texts of the IGCSE 2010 syllabus. It’s about a person who recalls his inconsiderate doing as a sixteen year-old of stealing a watermelon. The boy had just moved to a new home with his parents and had stolen a watermelon from the fiery Mr. Wills, whom nobody dares to touch his crops. Mr. Wills had raised the biggest watermelon in the country and was

The night had an ethereal feel to it, the moon watching over her with a glum look on its rotund face. The streets were deserted, save for some stray cats and dogs and their cries. She cast a wary glance over her shoulder now and then, pulling the veil lower on her face. Maybe they were following, maybe not. Her worn sandals cried against the gravel, their silent screams unnoticed by the wearers

This is my first attempt at writing a short story. I know it has a lot of work, but I wanted to post it anyways. I will re-write it a few times and see how it comes out.Walking Into HellI was walking late at night, from a friend named Jonathan. It was cold, that I was shivering with awkwardness. As, I was walking I saw a man in his late 40’s standing alone, at first I was surprised, because this

Olympic Inspired SprinterBy VicterBy six the morning of the 100 meter dash, Steve was up, dressed, prepared and ready to run for his country. After eating a healthy runners breakfast Steve was headed to his press runs for Q&A where he would be for an hour then it would be off to the track to warm up for his big run. At the warm up track Steve and his coach went over calming techniques fo

The road stretched like a never ending carpet. She had lost track of how many hours she had been driving. All she knew was that she needed to get away, as far away as she could. Life had been a nightmare of late, what with a heartless boss, a two-timing boyfriend and back-biting friends. She had seen worse, and knew this too would pass. But for now, she just had to get away. No idea where to go,

There are many stories to be told, that have been told and that are yet to be told. But this is a short story about people. Real people. However nothing you read here should surprise you as I trust each of you has a conscience. A sound mind that can profit your [...]

Get out! She yelled. Looking daggers at her, he left, slamming the door behind him. Noooooooooooo, she bolted upright, jactitating. Blackouts usually followed her crying fits, but not nightmares. Shafts of fading sunlight pierced the eerie shadows of the room. Getting up to turn on the light, she hoped he was alright. She could not help worrying as she cooked, tidied the house, took a warm

Laugh--IT--Out

They were the talk of the university. Never had there been such a couple, so much in love, so mad about each other. Mark and Sue had it all; understanding, love, commitment, trust, and every ingredient needed for a healthy relationship. They were the best of friends, who were simply made for each other. After graduating with flying colors, both landed jobs in reputed companies. Though immersed in

Deadline : 15 August 2008 BALAI BAHASA Bandung perform a Writing Competition of Adolescent Short Story of Around West Java in Year 2008to al adolescent which is have age between 16-20 year.free Theme short story, do not contain SARA element,long of short story page; yard 8-10 A4 page,short story have to be original and have never been published in other mediaShort story sent to committeeWriting Co

The editor had an interesting blurb about my story at “The Writer’s Eye.”  I’m kind of glad it has stirred up some controversy:  it was meant to! “A quick note about Efraim Z. Graves’ story, ‘The Fireman.’ Living in California, as I do, with all the wildfires currently raging throughout the state, I was tempted to [...]

A boy promised the girl he loved dearly… Boy: Nothing can take me away from you too long… But one day, he had an accident and died. The girl was so miserable that she took her own life. An angel in heaven told the boy the sad news. Suddenly, the boy attacked the angel. He was sentenced [...]

It was one of those days when everything just seemed to go wrong. She wished she could go home right away and soak in the tub and absorb herself in some book. The phone had been ringing incessantly at work and she was fed up of answering the same queries again and again. She had reluctantly joined this job because there had been no other option. It simply snatched away her social life and left no

I really loved this story and so thought of sharing it with you all. Do share this with a friend if you like it too. “My mother used to ask me what the most important part of the body is ? Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct. When [...]

Laugh--IT--Out

Very nice way to tell a short story, i like the way the movie expresses the story.

Very nice way to tell a short story, i like the way the movie expresses the story.

This came via Moazzam Sheikh who is plugging his short story collection The Idol Lover in the US. The following is the break-up of share of writing genres in the US. Mystery/Detective: 17% Romance:... This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more!

Indian Stories | Lord Krishna | Wisdom | Sage | ego | conditioned mind | Sadguru | Sai Baba |There lived a Sage, who was very pious & was doing penance for the interest of mankind. By caste, he was a Brahmin and was known to Lord Krishna. He was wandering in secluded areas and had no fixed house for him. He had no desire, no lust, no hatred, and no greed & was in different world of his own.Lord Krishna was very happy with his PRAYERS & Lord Krishna showed him His Virat Swaroop & asked him for any boon. Sage Uttanga told Him that he was desire less and he did not want anything, but Lord Krishna insisted for some boon to be granted to him as a reward for his penance. As Lord Krishna insisted, the latter asked for a boon that whenever he was in need of water (and since this ar

It was all over. There was nothing to live for, nothing to hope for anymore. She kept walking aimlessly on the hillside. The stars were shining so brightly but it seemed like doomsday to her. The full moon was menacing, laughing at her pain in all its glory. How cruel could nature get?, she thought. One could not blame her state of mind. The earthquake had taken away all her family and friends.

EnergyBy Susan VickeryTed had been working for the most of the day in his office of the research building. He didn’t even notice it was time for lunch. The most he ever moved was from the office t

Internet message boards are fun places, they are full of people with good ideas and/ or good intentions, who are, shall we say, "less than diplomatic". This short story found at Abyss & Apex is so true to the voices found on message boards. Enjoy this message board thread from the future: Wikihistory, by Desmond Warzel. Time travel on Whidbey Island.

When is a short story not a short story? I've been a big fan of Ellen Ghilchrist's writing for several years and decided to read one of her short stories today as a change of pace from the string of Joyce Carol Oates stories I've been featuring...and I absolutely love the cover of The Courts of Love, so that book was an easy choice from which to choose a story. But after reading "Perhaps a

S was new to the world of blogging. Gradually she made some friends in Bloggerville, among them one A got very close to her. They used to chat day and night, all the girly talk and she confided a lot in her new friend. Day and night S would be awake cause she felt A really needed her after the recent emotional trauma they had undergone. One day a dispute occurred between them cause she expected

I'm starting to believe that I should just go ahead and change the title to this series of short story postings to "Joyce Carol Oates Monday" since I've become so hooked on a regular reading of her short work. This week I'm adding another story from her Small Avalanches collection: "Bad Girls." "Bad Girls" is narrated by Orchid, the middle sister of a single-parent household. She and her two

Once ComplainedOnly once did I ever grumbled at how fortune treated me. I was so poor that I could not even afford shoes, an went into the Mosque at Kufah with a sore and complaining heart. There I saw a man with no feet.

She was so excited. There was anticipation in the air. It was a special night, one like none another. She waited for him, pacing back and forth in her living room. Dressed in her finest evening gown and the simple diamonds set she loved, she looked utterly stunning. Every now and then she would check her appearance in the mirror. It was five to eight and he had promised to pick her up at eight

Maria's new lifestyle: Short story about the benefits shopping on the Net has given to a dedicated artist.I've got this strange friend; her name is Maria. Maria's always been a little weird but now things have gotten unworldly altogether. You see, Maria's an artist; she's into sculpture in particular, of which she specializes in the manipulation of Perspex with a blowtorch. Lately I haven't seen too much of her as she's hooked up the Internet. Actually not many people at all have seen her recently; she says she's working on a big project.Now that she's got the Internet she reckons she can focus a lot more on her work without distractions. She doesn't 'waste' time doing grocery shopping anymore. Now she orders all her food and household items. She says if she's extremely busy, her weekly list is saved into the computer, and she just clicks on 'order' and the usual stuff is delivered to her door every week. No more driving, parking, searching for stuff, standing in line, d

It has been three days now. For three days we are huddled with seven people in the last of two tents we still have up. Two of us sleep on the kitchen table, the rest of either in a chair or on pieces of luggage which we stacked in the corner of what once was our kitchen tent. The other tent is full with our personal gear. All the rest of our equipment is crated and lined up near the helicopter landing site.When the Akademik Fedorov, our Russian pick-up vessel (the largest in the Antarctic by the way!) arrived at the island three days ago, the sky was covered. After they landed their big Mil-8 helicopter near our expedition camp, we loaded it up as much as we could, but the mist came in from above the sea and in minutes. The visibility turned real bad. So bad that the pilot had to fly on radar trying to find the ship back. The evacuation was aborted then. Three days we are now waiting to get off the Antarctic. On the ship, a few miles off shore, hot showers and proper meals are waiting

Short Story with a beautiful message -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Little girl and her father were crossing a bridge. The father was kind of scared so he asked his little daughter, "Sweetheart, please hold my hand so that you don't fall into the river." The little girl said, "No, Dad. You hold my hand." read more

I like to call myself a functioning addict or a responsible junky - an oxymoron if I have ever heard one. You ask what makes me so different or special from other junkies or addicts? Well, nothing really except the amount of work involved. It is much harder to be a functioning addict. You are forced to live two very separate and distinct lives. Your public face is the only face that anyone is allowed to see. no one can be allowed entry into your private world. This you keep very well hidden from view. No one can know that your half hour lunch is not sitting down at the nearest coffee shop consuming today’s special washed down with a couple of cups of coffee. No, instead you have quickly headed over to the local public library and have locked yourself in one of their bathroom stalls. Once you are safely behind its closed door, you carefully remove a brown eyeglasses case from your purse only you don’t have a spare pair of glasses in it. You place a strip of toilet paper acro

Chapter 1“ I hate how much I love you; I hate how much I need you”, Gabe sang along with her new Rihanna ipod download as she got dressed for work.  The previous night she had been up late chatting with her best friend Ciara about Lionel.  Gabe and Lionel had admired each other for a long time.  They became instant friends at their last job, but layoffs caused them to lose touch.  Years had gone by when Gabe was out doing her routine shopping.  This particular day she was on a hunt for red stilettos for an upcoming gala she and Ciara had been invited to, when from a far she thought she spotted Lionel in front of Tiffany’s.  She got flustered, and quickened her step to get a closer look.  As she got closer, she realized that it was in fact him. “Lionel, Lionel” she shouted as she ran to catch up to him.  As she approached him, he turned toward her with a smile.  His smile still had a spell on her.  She stopped in her steps, and Lionel walked towards her, showing

    By the time the Lord made woman, He was into his sixth day of working overtime.. An angel appeared and said, "Why are you spending so much time on this one?" And the Lord answered, "Have you seen my spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, have over 200 movable parts, all replaceable and able to run on diet coke and leftovers, have a lap that can hold four children at one time, have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart -and she will do everything with only two hands." read more

Brag post. NovocainI'm buzzed.

Bicycling to Paris, a short story about my travels from Belgium to Paris through wind, rain and cold weather

Central Pakistan during the Ramadan can cause some troubles but mostly a lot of fun though it's a bit more organising then in other times of the year

The smell of death hung in the air as they approached a blood stained door, they didn’t know how they got here, they didn’t know who or what was making the blood curdling sounds which awoke them from a dark slumber. 4 strangers had awoken in the dark to the sound of screaming, each telling themselves as the progressed deeper into this maze of a house not to trust anyone or anything they may see. “Your turn to open the door” one said to another, they had not asked for names, they didn’t see the point, 4 social outcasts, the lowest of the low, when you had been that low you no longer had use for a name. “Screw that, cant you hear that thing?” Another scream was heard, unlike any they had heard in the gutter, the lonely gutter, many had been known to go missing, some mangled bodies found but this was different, the scream came to a abrupt end as a thud was heard behind the door. They approached with care, as soon as the scream had stopped they could make out a few words from

A certain young man wanted to attend the Number One school in the world. IN ORDER TO DO THIS, HE WOULD HAVE TO TAKE A MAJOR TEST. His success could only be assured, if he passed it. Failure was not an option. He had prepared himself all of his life according to the best of his ability; in every way that he knew how for this situation. There had been glitches and schisms in the past but TO HIS KNOWLEDGE, it had all been corrected! He was taught by great men and women, who taught him the way that they had been taught. As time progressed, more and more new truths were revealed to him and he perfected and redirected himself. He was a complete book worm, a true student of the law that had been presented to him. It was the way of his fathers. He had great memorization skills; second to none. He possessed a photogenic memory if you will. He also had a network of friends who thought like him, had the same goals and objectives. They believed in their cause so greatly and they w

Talking to God... I met god the other day. I know what you're thinking. How the hell did you know it was god? Well, I'll explain as we go along, but basically he convinced me by having all, and I do mean ALL, the answers. Every question I flung at him he batted back with a plausible and satisfactory answer. In the end, it was easier to accept that he was god than otherwise. Which is odd, because I'm still an atheist and we even agree on that! It all started on the 8.20 back from Paddington. Got myself a nice window seat, no screaming brats or drunken hooligans within earshot. Not even a mobile phone in sight. Sat down, reading the paper and in he walks. What did he look like? Well not what you might have expected that's for sure. He was about 30, wearing a pair of jeans and a "hobgoblin" tee shirt. Definitely casual. Looked like he could have been a social worker or perhaps a programmer like myself. 'Anyone sitting here?' he said. 'Help yourself' I replied. Sits down,

Here is a short story I wrote today. I haven't edited it at all and will probably do so over the weekend. It isn't great but it is the first thing I have written in a long time so bear with me.Commute It was the smell more than anything that got David Greenburg’s skin crawling. There was no way to put a name on the exact aroma. It was a cigarette perfume cheap dirty sweat stench; the collective emissions from a horde of tired commuters making the dreary trek from the concrete confines of city offices to the suburban illusion people liked to call middle class life.David caught the same train everyday. He had been doing it for the past 6 years of his 10 year stretch at Cobble and Jameson, a struggling accountancy firm clinging on to its dwindling customer base with a frigid grasp. For the first four years he had been a typically eager and fawning new recruit never hesitating to put in the overtime needed to keep the bosses smiling. He left that to the losers drafted in to try and

Read Parts 1, 2, 3The hallways were long, grim, and labyrinthine, but he had no trouble making it through security. His passes were perfectly forged. To reach the Soul Chamber itself, he had to climb a long ladder and pull himself out of a heavy trap door set in a wide, railed walkway surrounding the Chamber’s cylinder. He was very high and a searing wind whipped his face. The battered, rocky ground of Tartarus spread for miles in all directions until the distant lands grew hazy with smoke. Weird light bathed everything in red and blue--red from the fires, blue from the stream of souls flowing in from above.He stood at the heavy steel door that led into the Chamber itself. The door was high, thick, and rimmed with heavy bolts. It stretched twenty feet over Cyril’s head, a door for Doomsday. He turned to the guard and showed the fourth pass he had used that day. “Aaron Bloor, maintenance,” he said.The guard turned to a panel to check. “Yep, you’re right here on schedule. The

Read parts 1, 2He made his way out of the wilderness of Orkus and into the civilized regions. Automated rifle turrets twisted toward him from the high towers, their red light-sensors gazing at him in a constant stare. There were still dangerous demons roving the wastes, as indicated by the rifles and the thickset concrete building nestled close around the vast expanse of the Central Processing Station. The narrow streets all led to that central tower, but few people walked those streets. Those who did were armed. The people he saw all wore the blue uniforms of the Terran Alliance. They looked hard-bitten, as they should, for they were pioneers, and pioneers in the toughest environment pioneers had ever fought. Most were haggard--the people who lived and worked on the edge of the Inferno suffered severe nightmares. Indeed, those were the only dreams one could have in this region. There were occasional plague outbreaks as well, and the nanotechnicians were at great pains to suppress them

this was previously posted in my Ferry Folk Blog but I like this story so much I just wanted to share it again.Dan and I and our two boys lived in San Diego for a little over seven years. We lived in North Park for those of you who are familiar with San Diego and for those who have visited San Diego we lived about two miles from the new Naval hospital and Balboa Park. Dan got out of the Navy and got a job in Ohio and we decided to try and sell our home in San Diego before joining Dan in Ohio. So the kids and I stayed in our home in San Diego. I never worried to much because we had a really good dog and our neighbor who was a border patrol man had a really big gun! Anyway, one day I was out working in our front yard and this man comes up the street, stops on the opposite side of the street, walks across the street up my driveway and heads toward my front door. When I asked him if I could help him he responds, "I bet you have a lot of stuff you want to sell if you are selling your house.

Read Part 1The hiking was rough. Cyril wasn’t in good shape since he’d lowered the effectiveness of his muscle-repairing nanoprobes. The True Believers didn’t approve of artificial longevity and so they turned their nanoprobes as low as they could, though only an authorized government physician knew how to turn them off.The craggy plain was hard and uneven. Sharp rocks jutted out at odd angles, and each one was designed to twist an ankle or cause a fall. Several times he stumbled close to a fire pit. Every stumble sent his heart into his mouth--once a soul was in a pit, no known technology could get it out. All the denizens of hell that were in the pits when the Liberation Forces arrived were still there and the workers at the Soul Chamber reported that they often sent up a hideous shrieking together. Some of the workers had needed extra doses of mind-soothers as a result. No one could figure out how to put out the fires and the pits were very deep. Cyril’s foot sli

Just a random thought that I'd post. I'd love to write a story about someone who only exists when there are other people around or who is paranoid that if they're left on their own they will disappear.... perhaps I should try writing a short story around this theme as a practice. In fact that's a great idea! I will post it once I'm done!

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl: "Will you marry me?"The girl said: "No!"And the guy lived happily ever after and went fishing, golfing and drank lots of beer and farted whenever he wanted.THE END

"She had a temper that came close to insanity; she had a temper that some called insanity." p.1" Once you accept a drink, you create your own trouble." p.4"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men can see beyond your body"P.4"I don't think I'd want to make that close a contact with so many strangers. It's wearing." p.5"...would laugh that laugh-only the way she could. It was like joy out of fire." p.5"...stop destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."p.6

(blockquoted in this post is a fan fiction crossover story by ME) I am going to admit it: I have never written a fan fiction story in my life. And I am proud y'hear! Most I've read try covering their lack of character creativity with an abused thesaurus and romance themes. Others simply ...

I realize that Blogs aren’t suppose to be used for fictional writing but here’s something I did recently that looks like it isn’t going to be published so I thought I’d just put it out myself online as a free read on my blog. If you do like it you’re welcome to buy a gift [...]