writing Two stories I wrote.

[Lord Pretty Pie 64]

I wrote a couple stories a while back, decided to see if I could get some feedback on them. One is a short story, the other is... A very short story, only 250 words (Exactly 250, in fact. Including the title)

 

This one is called ананас, which is Russian for Pineapple. The story has nothing to do with pineapples, I just couldn't come up with a name.

 

I watched in awe at the glass orb lit up before me. Various colors of smoke swirled about, mixing together, and then splitting apart again. As I watched, the smoke began to take shape. It was blurry, very hard to make out, but I was certain that the figure standing inside the Crystal Ball was… Me. My back was to… Myself, and I was gesturing frantically, though I could not see to whom. I heard nothing, and saw only my smoky doppelganger, but I could tell that I was being threatened by someone. I kept watching, and the vision of me took a step forward, only to be knocked back, as if backhanded by one brute of a man. The vision of me looked up, now facing toward me, with blood dripping from its mouth… Then faded away.

“Hmm… Yes…” Muttered Madame Mysteek. “I see the future unfolding…”

She has one of the most clichéd Psychic names I have ever heard. I thought to myself.

“Oh my… Yes…” She mumbled some more, then continued her moans and groans of Psychic-ism, “Awww… OHHH… WEEEHOHAHOOOOOO… GARBLEGOOGLEMINECRAFTGIBBERJABBER!!!” She flailed about violently, whipping her head back and forth, still making all sorts of odd noises. Suddenly, she stopped. “I have been given a message from the spirit world! She trumpeted triumphantly. “In the near future, you shall meet a pretty girl! Next please.”

“Wait!” I shouted at her, “What about that guy who hit me, and the frantic gesturing and… and, the blood, and-“

“I know not of which you speak. Here is the psychic Madame Mysteek! I say that I am never wrong, and now with you I say BEGONE!”

The next thing I knew, a big man in a suit grabbed me from behind and dragged me out of the Psychic’s tent. He wasn’t gentle. I landed in a mud puddle, and a passing family, all of whom were eating cotton candy, pointed and laughed at my expense. This is why I don’t normally go to carnivals. I stood and cleaned myself as best I could. There was still one thing nagging me though… I never did believe in psychics, but I had seen the vision for myself! Was Madame Mysteek trying to protect me, or was this just some sort of sick joke? Did she not even see it? Did I, perhaps, have some sort of innate psychic ability? My ponderings were interrupted by a growling stomach. Let’s see if we can’t find a “Bunch-of-random-fried-junk-on-a-stick” Stand…

 

All of the rest of that day, and late into that night, I wondered about my vision. I even dreamed about what I saw, with many unpleasant possibilities bout what I may have faced coming up. I needed to know more, and I only knew of one person who could help me. My mind was made, so that very morning, I went back up to the carnival.

I didn’t have a car, but it wasn’t too far of a walk, and in just 20 minutes, I was there. Or, at least… Where it was… Where was it, is the real question! Right here, right where the psychic’s tent was less than 12 hours ago, was… Empty field, nothing but a few lopsided fences and the occasional flyer blowing in the breeze. Dejectedly, I started to trudge back home. I walked all the way here for nothing, it would seem… Oh well. When I got home I’d watch some My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Netflix just got the second season, so that would be fun.

“What are you doing out here?” Spat a very menacing voice from behind.

I turned around slowly, my breath caught. “Oh, hey! You’re that security dude from the Psychic’s tent, right? The way you threw me in the mud? Very funny! You’re a funny guy!” I tried to back up, but my legs were like lead.

“I’m not a guy,” The guy said angrily. He stepped forward, pounding his fist into his other hand.

“Are you sure? You certainly look like a guy…” Wait; did I really just say that? Now that I think about it, I really couldn’t have come up with something worse to say if I tried. “OH! I mean, of course you aren’t a guy!” S/he didn’t look happy. I started gesturing frantically. “You’re a girl!” I stepped forward pleadingly. “A very pretty girl!” I don’t think she believed me. She pulled her hand behind her head and swung it out, backhanding me hard enough to spin me around. I looked up, now facing away from the big brute of a… girl, I guess, and felt blood dripping from my mouth. Then it all made since, the pieces falling together. “God I hate Psychics.”

 

 

This one, which is 250 words including the title is "The Master of Dreams"

 

Before me stretches a snowy, mountainous landscape. The sun shines brightly in a cloudless sky. I look around to admire the scenery, but a shadow falls over me. I look up towards the sun, but something huge has blocked it out. As it draws nearer, I recognize the unmistakable serpentine form. A dragon! I raise my sword and take on a battle stance. I then Shout at the Dragon, “Fus Ro DAH!”

A wave of unrelenting force rockets from my lungs. The dragon, knowing, and fearing the power of my Thu’um, attempts to roll out of the way, but too late. The Shout hits him in the wing, breaking it, sending him spinning to the ground. I move forward tentatively. My Thu’um is indeed strong, but it will take more than that to slay this beast. I boldly step forward, but am immediately pushed back. It would seem the dragon knows that shout as well, but his Thu’um is weak, and I keep my footing. Even without his wing, the dragon still manages to jump miraculously high, and I am missed by only inches as I roll to the side. The dragon lunges his head toward me, but I lash out with my sword, giving him a gruesome scar across his eye. As he recoils, I see my opportunity and leap forward with all my might, thrusting my blade deep into his eye. Suddenly, I awake. “Sweet,” I mumble to myself, before drifting off once again.

 

 

So... Any thoughts?

[Khazmere 5]

I like the simplicity of these short passages. Somehow that's what resonates with me the most, (tho' the contents and your style is fine too o.o" ) It reiterates that I don't always necissarily hafta make a novel-series for it to be considered as "writing".

 

But don't take my word for it. Somepony else will come along and leave a more meaningful response, than my narcisstic "feedback".

[Lord Pretty Pie 64]

I like the simplicity of these short passages. Somehow that's what resonates with me the most, (tho' the contents and your style is fine too o.o" ) It reiterates that I don't always necissarily hafta make a novel-series for it to be considered as "writing".

 

But don't take my word for it. Somepony else will come along and leave a more meaningful response, than my narcisstic "feedback".

 

I've always liked short stories for just that reason. I'm glad that someone out there agrees with me. I do love a good long novel, or a series, but sometimes it's nice to have something short and sweet.

 

Also, don't anyone be afraid to post negative things. One cannot improve if one does not know that which needs to be improved upon.