Short Stories

[kissmesweet]

Here you can post short stories you written yourself, or ones you found on the internet or where ever that you liked. Provide source if possible, or specify you wrote it yourself or the author, of course.

A boy named Adam walked into a CD store and saw a girl behind the counter.
She smiled and he thought it was the most beautiful smile he has ever seen before and wanted to kiss right there.
Adam said "Uh. Yeah? Umm, I would like to by a CD." He picked one out and gave her money for it.
"Would you like me to wrap it for you?" she asked, smiling her cute smile again.
He nodded and she went to the back.
She came back with the wrapped CD and gave it to him. He took it and walked out of the store.
He went home and from then on, he went to that store everyday and bought a CD, and she wrapped it for him. He took the CD home and put it in his closet. He was still too shy to ask her out and he really wanted to but he couldn?t. His mother found out about this and told him to just ask her.
So the next day, he took all his courage and went to the store. He bought a CD like he did everyday and once again she went to the back of the store and came back with it wrapped. He took it and when she wasn?t looking, he left his phone number on the desk and ran out?
RING!
The mother picked up the phone and said, ?Hello??
It was the girl!!! She asked for the boy and the mother started to cry and said, "You don't know. He passed away yesterday?"
The line was quiet except for the cries of the boy's mother. Later in the day. The mother went into the boy?s room because she wanted to remember him. She thought she would start by looking at his clothes. So she opened the closet. She was face to face with piles and piles and piles of unopened CDs. She was surprised to find all those CDs and she picked one up and sat down on the bed and she started to open one.
Inside there was a CD and as she took it out of the wrapper, out fell a piece of paper. The mother picked it up and started to read it.
It said: Hi? I think you are really cute. Do you want to go out with me? Love, Jacelyn.
The mother opened another CD?
Again there was a piece of paper. It said: Hi? I think you are really cute. Do you want to go out with me? Love, Jacelyn.


Source: http://www.xanga.com/CuteIconsAndQuotes

 

[Curious]

What are you doing to us?!?!?... What a sweet story! And thread

 

[amphrosyne]

cute story. do you have anymore?

 

[kissmesweet]

Haha, thanks. Actually, I do.

Here's another...

The Perfume

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard. Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise. Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around." His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle." His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken." Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to." After the children left, she cried for at least an hour.

On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from佟ollege with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life. Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together. They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference." Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

 

[amphrosyne]

did you write this one yourself? Its really nice and simple

 

[kissmesweet]

Oh, God. No... way out of my league.
Even though, I do like writing stories.

source: www.treasure.quiet-storm.org

 

[romantics]

Short Stories.

Do any of you read short stories online or wherever? I'm interested in reading some, but I don't know where to look!

 

[papa_levante]

Bernard Malamud is one of my very favorite short story writers.
I don't know what to say to convince you to read his works except that his details come to life so well when you're trying to envision a picture setting.

 

[fairy]

here's something i wrote just now...(i guess there are a few mistakes in it as i just wrote it without any fuss)

.........

I couldn’t sleep. I thought about him. About his eyes and how they were constantly looking at me. And about how he got me so confused. He never talked much, but he was always there. Sometimes I had the feeling that he just wanted to be around me so he wouldn’t endanger himself. He didn’t know by doing that he endangered both of us.
I wonder if he remembered the day we walked back to his house, it was sunny and it was my birthday. Our hands were so close as we were walking side by side but neither of us dared to take the others. We didn’t want to hurt anyone. It was our intimate moment. And I could tell he felt vulnerable being alone with me, all I wanted was to tell him ‘It’s alright. Don’t worry.’. Truth time, my voice would have trembled.
One night he had this nightmare, he was shaking and crying in his sleep. I’ve never been more scared but I tried to calm him and he grabbed my hand like he would never let it go again. The next morning he couldn’t recall a thing and I felt so glad. Then he saw my scars and I saw his. We held hands again and that’s when I knew he hadn’t been lying when he had told me that he loved me.
I know all his favourite things. His favourite songs, his favourite movies, his favourite breakfast, his favourite time of the day, his favourite sitting position, his favourite spot to be kissed. And more. And we have a favourite song together, a favourite movie together, a favourite breakfast together, a favourite time of the day together, a favourite sitting position together and a favourite spot to be kissed together. We’re still not together.
He tells me I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me. At the same time he tells me he’s sorry. For what? Does he think we tried hard enough? Hard enough to say we’re not meant to be?
What am I supposed to do with all these memories?
I’m tired of moaning about missing him. I’m tired of missing him. I’m tired of him. Push me away, pull me close, push me away and pull me close again. He left me dizzy, like when he first kissed me in the middle of that dark London alley. It was like a movie I said and he laughed and kissed me again. The hotel room, he didn’t know but when I started crying, he felt guilty. I’ve never regretted it. And I never will. ‘I don’t deserve you’ he always said and maybe it’s true. But noone ever made me feel so loved. It’s all or nothing now and we can’t have all.