Hi! I'm just getting started in writing, and I'm posting some of my experiments and other short stories here. Offline, I'm working on building my "rejection slip collection" with other stories.

Please enjoy the short stories and writing experiments I've posted here. I always enjoy constructive criticism.

I'm very interested in improving my abilities as an author, and I like to experiment with different genres and story ideas when I write. A lot of what I'll be posting here will be somewhat unfinished, I figure I'd rather post and learn what I can than have something never get written because I fret too much about how it will turn out.

Thanks for coming!

04 December 2009

The Small Boy

It was a particularly normal sort of day. The type of day you expect to take a nice long walk on, then have a picnic afterwards. Sammy was a particulary normal sort of girl who read fantasies avidly and daydreamed of wonderful romances where she would be rescued by a handsome prince. Presently, Sally had set about to looking through her mother's library. After she had been searching for quite some time, she happened to come upon one set of books that caught her interest.
"'The Chronicles of Narnia,'" she read. Curiously, she flipped over one of the books and began to read the description. By the time she had finished reading it, she was convinced that she must read this set of books or forever regret not doing so. She picked out the first of the set and set out to her lawn to read.
One month later, Sammy had finished reading 'The Chronicles of Narnia.'
"Oh, mother!" she said, "Why haven't I been to Narnia?"
"It's nothing more than a fantasy book, Sam. Don't take it to heart. Besides, you need to help me with the dishes."
That night Sammy dreamed. She woke up to find herself in a field full of heather, swaying softly in the breeze. She sat up, partially alarmed, but soon very delighted.
"Oh!" She clapped her hands together with joy. "I must be in Narnia! What a wonderful occurrence! Aslan must be around, somewhere." She looked to and fro to sight the lion, but could not find him. "I suppose I must find him with the help of some of the fellow Narnias," she said. So she set about to walking towards the edge of the field. Sammy walked for what seemed to be hours. "Where-" she panted, "are you, Aslan?" She looked around, but the field of heather did not seem to be any smaller in either direction.
"Come," a small voice said. "Follow me." Sammy turned around to see a boy of about seven standing behind her.
"Follow you? But you're just a boy!" Sammy said. "What is your name?"
"My name is Aslan. Come, follow me."
"You're not Aslan!" Sammy laughed. "You're just a boy! Aslan is a big, great lion! He can smite his enemies down with one paw!" Sammy turned away and continued walking, humming pleasantly, in the field of heather. The next morning, she awoke to the sound of her alarm clock. She couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.
Thomas was a studious young man. He didn't like to go out much, but he liked to understand everything perfectly. He was the sort to read the dictionary just so as he could understand the encyclopedia. One day, when the weather was rather dreadful and grey, he decided to go looking for some new books in his father's study. His father had recently recommended a series to him called 'The Chronicles of Narnia.' Not being one to want to disappoint his father, he searched out the books and began to read them. It took all day, but Thomas read the series.
"Father," Thomas said at dinner, "Why is there a lion in the books?"
"Ah, hmm, well. I'm sure it has something to do with finding your inner strength, son. Best to do some research on the subject after dinner." Thomas nodded to his father and began to think to himself. He helped his sister put away the dishes, then sat down at his computer to look up the lion. But no sooner had he gotten the computer on, then his mother hollered at him to go to sleep. So Thomas obliged his mother. That night, Thomas dreamed. He found himself in a large dark forest full of trees. He looked around. He could not seem to recognize what type of trees he was surrounded by. When ever he looked closely at one, it would seem to grow fuzzy upon inspection.
"Come," a small voice said. "Follow me." Thomas looked around to face a small boy.
"Who are you? You seem familiar."
"I'm Aslan. Come, follow me."
"You are not...just Aslan, though. Let me find out who you are before I follow you." So Thomas woke up, and set about to researching Aslan.
Cloe was a small girl of about six years old. She always loved to look at flowers and kittens and pretty jewelery. But she not only liked to look at pretty things, she also liked to look for pretty things, and find out more about them. Her parents never missed an opportunity to use Cloe's curiosity to teach her. They had begun to read to her a set of their favorite books, called 'The Chronicles of Narnia.' Cloe would always sit and listen attentively to her parents as they read. As they were reading one night, Cloe was a little sleepier than usual, ans soon faded off as her parents's reassuring voices flowed over her. She awoke in the middle of a desert, hungry and thirsty. Cloe started to walk, but quickly stopped for the harsh pain that began in her head.
"Oooh," she said quietly.
"Come," a voice like unto Cloe's own said. "Follow me." Cloe looked up to the voice. A boy a little older than her stood with his hand outstretched towards her.
"Why does my head hurt?" she asked. "It feels like the time I fell on my head on the playground." The boy looked pained.
"Will you follow me?" Cloe stood up.
"Yes." Cloe took the boy's hand. Her head stopped hurting. While Cloe walked with the boy, her parents shook Cloe's sleeping body.
"Cloe? Cloe, baby, wake up!" They sat her up carefully only to watch her slump down again.
Kevin stood at the entrance to a church building. He looked up at the stained glass windows that adorned the church's every side. He had dreamed that a small boy had led him out of the middle of a burning building. Since his dream, he had read every book he could think of to help him figure out his dream. He had read a series by C.S. Lewis, he had read the Bible, he had read the Curran, he had read almost any religious book he could lay hands on. Now, finally, at the end of his search, he new who the small boy was.
Sammy woke up abrubtly. She looked around, hoping to fins the source of what had awoken her. In the corner of her eye she thought she saw a small boy. She looked, but saw nothing but her bed room. She heard a faint whisper say: "Come, follow me." She looked up to her window and saw a small boy standing outside. He beckoned. Sammy shook her head.
"You're not Aslan," she said. She stepped out side of her room to find her lost shoe. The last thing she saw was her mother charging her with a bloody knife while her father lay on the ground.
Thomas looked out his window to see a small boy looking in at him. The boy beckoned.
"Just a second! I almost know who you are." Thomas began to turn back to his computer. The boy beckoned more frantically. Thomas took one last longing look at his computer monitor, then began to climb out his window to the boy.
"Thomas!" A loud voice yelled. "We know you're in there! Come out, now!" Thomas recognized the voice of his next door neighbor. He also remembered that his neighbor had been convicted of attempted murder and locked in prison a month ago. He scrambled out his window faster. His bed room door began to open. Thomas lept out the window and ran.
Cloe woke up in a hospital bed surrounded by her parents and several nurses.
"Baby! You just survived a stroke!" Her parents looked at her lovingly.
"The boy showed me where to go," Cloe said. "He saved me." Her parents looked slightly confused.
Kevin looked away from the glorious stained glass windows to a small, rickety set up of the nativity scene. Even He started out somewhere, Kevin thought. He started out as a small boy, probably no bigger than my little guys.

1 comment:

Schutzenegger said...

I was not expecting the knife!
It was all sweet and mysterious; then suddenly there was an insane mother with a knife. Don't read C.S. Lewis kids, it'll get you almost killed :P