[Valigarmander]

Unintentional rhyming. D:

Okay, all, this is the thread where people can post small stories or segments of stories you've writed for everyone else to read. Keep them short (either short stories, or segments). Read and review, viewers, and look for any strong/weak spots to help the writer. This topic can be used as a source for constructive criticism, promotion for your writings, or just a place to give everyone a taste of your pen.

You may put the story directly in your post, or link to offsite if you have it hosted somewhere else.

Now, I'll start off with a short story I wrote last year for a class. It's a new twist on an old fable.


The Strawberry

“Don’t do it!” came the cry of a terrified apartment resident. John did not listen, his hands balancing himself precariously on the balcony edge.

He was a broken shell of a man, tired of his own life. Earlier in the afternoon, he had come home from his job and was left ample time to think to himself. He had no girlfriend, no family. He didn’t even have a dog to wait for him at home. His car was aging and in need of repairs, yet he didn’t have the money to do such a thing. His job dragged him from the early hours of the morning to the brink of the afternoon, six days a week. At that moment, he realized he deplored his own life, and wanted to bring it all to an end.

That had been an hour ago. Now, he stood perched on the balcony, with shocked people and swarming news crew on the ground below. He felt at peace, the wind whipping about him. He felt ready to go.

“Mr. Matthews!” an officer shouted through a megaphone. “We don’t want you to get hurt. Please, step off the balcony and back into your apartment.”

John sighed, looking down at the tiny policewoman. Her cries for him not to jump were all just lies, the only reason they wouldn’t want him falling is because he’d be a mess to clean up afterwards. He knew nobody loved him, and nobody would miss him. Their halfhearted pleads to him were useless.

He could see the people below, some with hands at their mouths, some pointing up towards him, some covering their eyes. They all looked so tiny from the eighth story balcony, like little bugs. And soon, John thought, he himself would be like a little bug, flying through the air before being crushed into the ground.

As he gulped, he prepared to step off the ledge. He glanced to the right, seeing a frightened woman waving her hands out of her window. He turned left, and was surprised. In the adjacent balcony, there stood a small adobe pot. In it, a strawberry plant grew.

John didn’t know what to think. However, strawberries were in fact his favorite food. He decided to have a last meal. Slowly, he reached out and plucked one of the ripe red berries from the plant, and placed it into his mouth. It tasted so tart, so tender… It was the sweetest thing he had ever eaten.

As he swallowed the strawberry, he looked back down. Those people didn’t want to see him jump. Nobody did.

He smiled lightly. Maybe life actually was worth living. Maybe people aren’t meant to focus on the bad things, but the good things, like that tiny strawberry.

John grasped ahold the ledge. “It’s okay!” he shouted. “I’m not going to jump!”

The people below seemed relieved as John slowly stepped back towards his window. But as he lifted his left foot, it was caught in his shoelaces. Before he could realize what had happened, he tripped, lost his balance, and to the shock of the police, news crew, apartment residents, and himself, fell to his death.