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General Short Stories Thread

Mikey the Moblin

sushi is a suspicious hello
Joined
Aug 31, 2014
Location
southworst united states
Gender
Dude
A young Boy lived with his Mother in a hut by the river. Every day he would dance and play among the reeds of the riverbank. His skin was dark with sun, but his hair was beautifully golden. Mother would look on with affection and pride as he and his virtues grew. And as he grew, the Boy attuned a love for the river and all who depended upon it. He frolicked in its waters, drank of its waters, fished from its waters. Mother told him stories of the world, and the things in it, that his mind might grow along with his body. And so was the Boy's life.

One day, as the Boy swung about energetically with a reed, he heard a curious trilling sound. Questing toward the noise, he pulled the reeds back to discover the most unusual bird he had ever seen. Legs thin as reeds themselves, stretched out long. A neck of a length to rival that of the legs. And a beak, so narrow that it could almost have been a straw! But despite its unusual body, it was surely beautiful. The Boy gazed mesmerized at the deep reddish hues of the head and neck, giving way to an iridescent rainbow of wing feathers. The bird, suddenly realizing it was a subject of notice, ruffled itself and took flight with ungainly flaps.

The Boy followed the bird's now-graceful flight with awe. It seemed to him that the bird was following the course of the river. As it became a mere speck on the horizon, the boy began to wonder. For years he had been happy with his life by the river, but now he wished to know where the river ran. Could he get there? So, preoccupied with these questions, he returned to Mother with a string of fishes to eat.

"Mother?" he asked. "Where does the river go?"

"What do you mean? The river is always there."

"I saw a bird fly away, and it disappeared. The river is that way too, so does it disappear?"

Mother considered. "Well, I suppose all living things are born, they live, and then they die. Perhaps the river does the same."

The Boy thought on this. That was not really what he had meant, but Mother was wise. So he left it at that.

The next day, as the Boy swung about listlessly with a reed, he found his gaze wandering toward that horizon where the bird had gone. As he recalled his encounter the previous day, he began to feel a persistent restless energy inside him, propelling him, begging him to take action, any action at all. Without a second thought the Boy began to march along the riverbank, just out of the reeds that would hinder his progress. For hours he walked, determined to find where the river died, as the sun stood resolute in the sky. Soon the reeds began to clear out and the Boy could see through the river to the bed underneath. He stepped forward confidently but cried out in pain as his foot hit a rock. Looking again, he saw that both the riverbed and the banks were littered with rocks of all shapes and sizes, a treacherous terrain to deter his trek. Not to be defeated, he inched forward carefully, but to no avail. Another rock scratched at his soles, and dejected, he turned tail.

The sun stooped low, slowly surrendering to the starry spread of night sky. The Boy returned to his Mother and their hut by the river. Mother noticed his limping and rushed to him. He explained where he had been, and Mother smiled at him. "I'm proud of you."

"Why are you proud of me when I have failed?"

"You were brave to keep going. I hope for you to be brave every day, and today you were."

The Boy thought on this. He did not see how Mother could be proud of his mistake, but Mother was wise. So he left it at that.

The next day, as the Boy swung about contemplatively with a reed, he found his thoughts returning to the rocks that had hindered his progress the day before. The Boy wished he had wings like that beautiful bird, so that he could simply fly along the river, to see where it went. Even the thin, reedy legs of the bird would probably fare better moving carefully in the rocky riverbed. Looking back at the reed in his hand, the Boy had an idea. He gathered up two bundles of reeds, tying each one tight to form two sturdy stilts. Satisfied that they held his weight, he steadily made his way through the river, reeds on his shoulders, until he once again reached the seemingly endless field of rocks. Gritting his teeth, he planted the reed stilts into the ground before him and lifted himself up between them. The Boy swung one stilt forward, then the other, then again the one, then again the other, and an exhilarated laugh escaped him. He was so high up his feet were not even wet, much less scratched up by rocks! Throwing caution to the winds, he swung forward on his stilts at a much greater pace. Only too late did he realize his mistake, for the stirring of the stilts loosened the rocks. Down, down, went the Boy, into the water, hard on his back. He felt a rush of wind escape his mouth and began to panic. Heedless of the pain, he scrabbled back from the rocks into the safety of the reeds and collapsed, gasping for breath that would not come. When he could finally manage a full breath, he gritted his teeth at the pain in his hands and knees, pushed himself up, and began to trudge home.

The moon was well along on its journey across the inky domain of the stars when the Boy finally returned home. He saw his Mother had built a fire and prepared the fish herself. Silently, he went to her, collapsing at her feet. Mother wordlessly ran a gentle hand through his hair, listening to the rhythmic chirps and clicks of the insects. Sobbing, the Boy told her of his terrible mistake, and how he lost his breath. Her hand following a rhythm of its own, she soothed her Boy. When he quieted, Mother smiled at him, and simply said, "I'm proud of you."

"Why are you proud of me when I have been so stupid?"

"You were clever to keep going. I hope for you to be clever every day, and today you were."

The Boy thought on this. He did not see how Mother could be proud of his mistake, but Mother was wise. So he left it at that.

The next day, as the Boy swung about angrily with a reed, he found his hands smarting from the numerous scratches he had received. Frustrated, he thrust the reed into the river, disrupting a small number of birds who flapped away, squawking angrily. He recalled the wondrous bird he had startled the first day, and found that he was jealous of it. That bird's life must be so easy and carefree. The Boy resolved that he would find where the river went. All this pain would not be for nothing, he vowed. Steeling himself, he once again began the trek along the river. But before he went too far, his Mother called out to him. Turning, he watched as she hurried down to the bank with something swinging from her hand.

"I made you these. They will help you cross the rocks." She held out two flat rectangles with straps on them. "Put these around your feet and they will not be scratched."

Tears in his eyes, the Boy nodded and put the sandals on. "I will find where the river goes."

Mother smiled at him. "I know you will."

So the Boy set off once more. And once more did he arrive at the rocky section of the river. He noted his reed stilts were still lying there in the river, solid as they were yesterday. Tentatively, the Boy stepped onto the rocks and was relieved to see that his feet could not feel the points through the thick material of the sandals. Carefully, he continued forward, picking up the stilts as he passed them just in case. As the sun reached its zenith, the Boy reached the end of the rocks. The river widened out greatly here, he saw. It was getting much muddier, and smellier. The Boy strode forward into the muddy stretch of river, and soon found that his progress was hampered by the thickness of the mud. His sandals were getting sucked into the bottom of the river, and it took much of his strength to pull them out. Looking doubtfully at the mud, he stuck one of his stilts deep into the dark water and wiggled it. The stilt held firm. Gritting his teeth, he prepared a mighty pull... only for the stilt to come out smoothly with a quiet squelch. Interestingly, it did not take merely so much strength for the Boy to pull his stilts out of the mud. So with a new plan in mind, he pulled himself up onto his stilts.

Remembering his folly from the day before, he kept moving at a careful pace, never exerting himself beyond the strength he knew. After hours of wobbling through the muddy river, the water once again began to clear. With a sigh of relief, the Boy hopped off his stilts into the clear water. The stench of decay he had begun to be used to gave way to the strong purifying odor of salt. The riverbed here was soft, like sand. There were more reeds here too, but they were taller and thinner than the ones by his hut. As the Boy once again followed the river's flow, he suddenly heard a loud screeching from behind him. He whirled around, instinctively pulling his reed stilt up in front of him vertically, holding it steadily with two hands. In front of him stood a brown, hairy beast with a stubby snout and vicious tusks, snorting puffs of air. Its hooves were cloven and it had a long, ropy tail with a puff of hair at the end. Without warning it charged at the Boy, who leapt aside just in time. The beast swung around angrily, but before it could charge again, the Boy was on him, giving it a solid whack with the stilt. This seemed to only enrage the beast further, as it flailed its tusks wildly, catching the reed stilt squarely and flinging it far away, where it landed with a splash. As the beast charged again, the boy made a desperate dive toward his stilt. The beast wheeled around and stampeded forward, but this time the Boy was kneeling in the water and could not leap out of the way. Closing his eyes, the Boy flung his stilt up as the beast slammed headlong into it.

In this moment, the Boy could feel the pure strength in the body of the beast. He felt its anger, and its pride. The Boy never felt weaker than he did now, face to face with a nightmare. He saw visions of his past, a glimmering rainbow bird, the hut he grew up in, and... his Mother. His Mother, who was so proud of him, despite his mistakes. His Mother, so wise, who saw his bravery, his cleverness, his strength. The Boy felt a rush of clarity, the opposite of feeling the air leave him, and he roared at the beast with a great roar of confidence. He shoved forward with the stilt and felt the beast's panic as it realized this Boy was not its prey. With another yell, he brought the stilt down savagely on the beast's head, where it split with a ringing crack! Dazed, the beast squealed in agony, then with a curious snort it dashed away, conquered. Breathing heavily, the Boy tossed the remains of the stilt into the water. He turned then to realize where this trial had brought him.


The first thing the Boy noticed was the pure, overpowering, endless sound. It ebbed and flowed, and it growled and roared. Questing toward the noise, he pulled the reeds back to discover a glittering expanse. The evening sun's rays sparkled golden, reflected in the seemingly endless blue before him. The Boy was awestruck. He continued forward and found the source of the roaring. The river did indeed end. The water barreled over the side of a large sun-bleached rock, churning white froth as it fell into the sea. He stepped out of the river and onto the rock, which jutted out gently from the side of the cliff. Overwhelmed, the Boy kneeled down on the rock, feeling the wind play through his golden hair. Never had he seen anything like this, and surely he would never see anything like it again. As the sun slowly sank behind the horizon, the Boy saw a brightly colored bird wheeling in the salty breeze, enjoying its warmth and comfort. Tomorrow he would return to his hut, and he would tell his Mother where he had been. But tonight, he too would enjoy the warmth and comfort of this place.
 

Mikey the Moblin

sushi is a suspicious hello
Joined
Aug 31, 2014
Location
southworst united states
Gender
Dude
"Reset"


You are an intelligent young man. I've heard it so often by now the words barely register. I'm already conditioned to roll my eyes and scowl at the abrasive admonition. How could I be so stupid if I'm so smart? Have you ever considered that maybe I'm not smart? Stupid lady.

"I'll try harder, Mom," I mutter. She doesn't seem to notice or care about the obvious platitude. Satisfied, she finally leaves me to my game. I could be doing homework right now. But I won't. I can do it later. But I won't. It's not like Mom cares. I'm on my laptop, so I'm probably doing homework. It's fine. Staying up past midnight is normal for a kid in advanced courses. It's fine.

I can't wake up in time to drive my sister to school the next morning and Mom yells at me. "I'll try harder, Mom." But I won't. "I'm off to school now." But I'm not. Where should I drive today? I could go see a movie, or check out that comic shop I saw last time. I have a decade-old Buick, a minimum wage job, and an alibi. Complete freedom.

In the end I settle for a trip to Culver's and stuff crinkle fries in my face while singing along to Imagine Dragons and Coldplay. Why on earth would I ever go to class, when Culver's is right there? Who cares if I skip class? Not me. Not Mom.

It was all planned out for me, the glorious road for the boy genius. With dual enrollment, you can get your degree before you're 18! How does that sound! Well, when I'm 14 that sounds great. When I'm 16, who cares? Not me. Not Mom. I swear he's going to revolutionize the field of geometry. Except I'm stupid. How could I revolutionize a field I know nothing about? I drive home. Mom is glad to hear class was good.

I wake up in time to drive my sister to school and head back home to get some more sleep before my shift. Ah, the bright young man with his grown up job as a supermarket cashier. The shift manager sees me clocking in and gives me a bewildered look. Why aren't you in school? You're not supposed to be here.

"I'm in college, Diane. Classes are Monday, Wednesday, Friday, remember?" She doesn't remember. Oh, that's right. She doesn't care. I'm surprised at how much longer five hours is when I'm behind a register instead of my laptop. If I was really smart, that wouldn't surprise me. Well, I still prefer the day shift to the evening shift. More time to spend playing my game when I get home. Mom gets home after me and asks to borrow my employee discount card. She knows it's not allowed. When I remind her, she makes me come with her instead. I was playing my game, but she doesn't care. I'll just stay up all night to catch up for the lost time with my game.

Mom is happy that I woke up on time today. I take my sister to school and I head over to the bus station. Forty minutes listening to Imagine Dragons and Coldplay. Actually, I'm kind of tired. I have Environmental Science in an hour so I can just take a quick nap on this couch here in the music building. Nobody heads down this way, it'll be fine. Four hours later, I wake up hungry and head to the cafe building for lunch. Subway sounds good. They let me have free pop refills all day long. The wifi here isn't bad either, so I can play my game. I have Third World Countries in ten minutes, so I guess I'll go. The professor for that class is weird. Last Friday he recognized me in line for the bus and asked me why I wasn't in class that day. What a weirdo. What kind of professor recognizes a student?

Third World is an auditorium class, so I just sit on my phone and occasionally look up. Interesting stuff happens sometimes. Why does this auditorium smell so bad? I can't wait until class is over.

Mom is glad to hear school was good today. I don't have any homework so I'm going to play my game. Is it lying to say I don't have homework if I'm not going to do it anyway? I stay up late playing my game, but I've made too many mistakes in the save file, so I reset.

I can't wake up in time to take my sister to school and Mom yells at me. Maybe I should reset? That would be the intelligent thing to do.
 

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