Just Another Short Story

It's alright, buddy.

 

I will reread it when I am free and say what I thought about it for sure

 

Sure, do it at your own leisure. It's mostly random boredom struck again stuff anyway

 

...

 

*sigh* Wow, I finished it...
It was really hard for me. This story, I hate this story haha. This made me sad because it resonated too much to what I feel. It made me cry...

Sometimes, I wonder, how does it feel to dream like you're not dreaming at all. And so, here it is. I hope you enjoy it~

#Note: I advice reading it a bit slowly, because my mind has this slow rhythm while I was writing it. Well, I guess it doesn't matter much either way haha.

#AnotherNote: Lola means grandmother, apo means grandchild...

Spoiler: WHEN SLEEP CLAIMED ME

My eyes drifted close on their own. My breathing slowly evened itself down. And surely, without me noticing a thing, I fell asleep.

...


"Hey, Niks, wake up." A soft familiar voice nudged me out of slumber. "You should not sleep on the rattan chair or else you will get a cold. Go on, move to your bedroom."

Not yet fully awake, I fixed myself into a sitting position and rub my eyes with my tiny hands.

.
.
...Tiny?

I looked once again at my hands and sure enough, they were tiny and without a hint of callous. I glide my gaze from my hands towards my arms, from my arms towards my torso, from my torso towards my legs and feet. Every part of me is smaller than it should be... Like I'm a five year old once more.

Widening my eyes, I tried orienting myself where I am and took my inspection from myself towards my surroundings.

I saw a familiar light green ceiling, along with that old antique ceiling fan, spinning in its same old rickety manner. Moving my head sideways, I saw the sala's parquetry flooring and the dark wood stairs leading to the second floor.

This place... my old house?

"Niks?" The slow yet steady voice from earlier captured my attention once again. It is familiar. In fact, it sounds too familiar. It's the voice of my grandmother.

"L-lola?" I felt my voice break a bit at the end. How could it not when my grandmother is supposed to be dead for years now? She was the first person I buried to the ground.

"Lola, you're here?"

"Yes, me and your grandfather got home just now. Why are you staying here and waiting for us? You should have slept upstairs, honey," she asks as she gives that all too familiar warm smile she always gives. It still has its distinct uneven tilt and her sparkly eyes still crickle at the edges.

I-I miss that smile.

Suddenly, my cheeks felt wet. It's like a dam burst open and tears just won't stop flowing out. Dripping from my eyes towards the floor in a continuous and uncontrolled manner.

"L-lola *sob*... y-you're h-h-*sob* here?"

It just seemed impossible. This is probably just one of those realistic dreams that some people experience. It's too good to be true and maybe, after a few minutes, she'll just fade away and leave me. Alone. Again. Like how I've been for the years after they all have died.

Yet, as these thoughts race inside my head, a warm and comforting arm wrapped around my sobbing self. Grandma is hugging me. Her hand slowly rubbing my shivering back in that same counterclockwise manner. Her touch is so loving.

So real.

Is this really not real?

"Nikki, apo, why are you crying? Did you miss us? We are here now. Wait, I'll get you water. Stop crying, okay? You'll have trouble breathing if you cry some more."

And breathing did became troublesome. My chest starts aching. Taking in a deep breath hurts. It's so hard. I can't control it at all. I opened my mouth and tried breathing with it. Still, the oppressive feeling only lessened a tiny fraction. Not at all helpful.

Having an illness sucks.

All of a sudden, my grandma stood up, planning to fetch me a drink. Yet, as she takes a step forward, my hand automatically reached for her sleeve. It clenched so tight, not a hint of willingness to let go can be seen at all.

Grandma smile wryly at my little self. Her ever-present patience not worn out a bit. "Okay, you want to come to the kitchen with me instead?"

Still sobbing, I only nodded in reply. My brain still can't process what's happening at all.

Taking my small hand and covering it with her big one, I noticed stuff I never did before. Her hands, they are so wrinkled, thin and frail. My grandma is so old and weak now..

She unconsciously ran thumb back and forth across my knuckles... another habit. She has a lot of tiny habits and yet I seem to forgot about most of them after years passed. I guess these were all left in the corner of my mind, unceasingly gathering dusts.

Slowly, the two of us, the child and the elderly, shuffled our way to the kitchen. I saw the fireplace they sometimes use instead of the gas stove. Cold gray ashes still lying around with little blocks of wood. The kitchen counter is spotless clean now, far from the unkept look it had when it was only mom and I living on this large house.

Funny enough, the lighting here is as bad as I could remember. Fortunately, the refrigerator was positioned near the kitchen's entrance. Even if it was present me, I'm pretty sure I could get something from this same refrigerator even with my eyes closed.

Grandma, took a pitcher of water out the refrigerator and made me get a glass cup inside the dish cabinet. Pouring some water, she took hold of the glass and touched the glass rim in between my lips, silently urging me to drink. And drink I did. I slowly drank the water as grandma caringly held the glass for me. She was kinder than I remember. I guess memories are just incomplete imitations. I can't remember how calming it was to be taken care like this. I can't recall how at peace it made me feel.

Despite her slight old age, she fetched me off my feet and carried me in her arms, and quietly whispered, "Nikki, go sleep now. Sleeping late is not good. I've told you this already, right?"

My voice quivered as I replied, "But I want to stay awake with you, grandma. I'm afraid you'll disappear when I close my eyes!"

She looked curiously at my young yet serious face. Trying to understand what probably sounds like drivel in her ears. I just hid my face in her neck in shame.

"Hahaha, so silly of you, my child. I'll never go away."

Just like that, with a simple laugh and a few words, all my fears and trepidation dissolved into nothing. And with their disappearance, I was filled with nothing but peace and happiness.

Humans search long and hard for happiness and some find my shallow happiness unusual or weird. And as they chase after their dreams, the place I wanted to be the most is simply here, with the people I love and care about. Is that so bad?

Finally, as I mused a bit about the complexity of life, we arrived at my bed. It still has that same faded blue fluffy blanket and starry patterned pillows. Grandma laid me down and covered me with the blanket. Giving me a kiss on the forehead, she leaned away and started to get off the bed. I still feel happy, yet now, my happiness has a tinge of emptiness within.

She'll be leaving soon. I'll be alone once more. Maybe... maybe I'm destined to be alone. Destined to never be never happy.

"Grandma, can you sleep with me tonight?" I whispered to the air, not really loud enough to reach her ears. It's just that I know that she is tired as well from her trip and I.. I don't want to be burden.

And so, this little me, hug a huge pillow and covered her head with the cool blanket. Once again sleeping with her best buddies during the darkest and saddest nights of her life. Like how she has always since.

As silence descended upon the room, I felt tired and sleepy. My eyes starting to drift close on their own. My breathing, no longer erratic, starts to slow and even down. And as I start to cross that boundary between sleep and wake, I heard the door creak a bit, felt the bed dip down a little and a warm body hug my tiny one into its heavenly embrace.

"Child, I'll never fade away. As long as you're alive, I will always, always be inside your heart. "

That was the last thing I heard before slumber claimed me once more.

~The End~

 

So I am aleays curious with your stories was this based on fact or fiction ? It was very sad indeed. I know I have had realistic dreams of someone who isnt here, seems so true and vivid in the dream. You wake up kinda wierded out.. Haha. You can feel them, touch them, converse wirh them. Dreams fascinate me.

 

The last one is something I want to dream about. The name and setting is mostly based on reality. And yeah, life-like dreams really feels weird. I had a couple or so of those haha

 

I could really picture the scene from your description.I had this super funny dream that was so real. Ariana Grande has a video of No More Tears where she dances on the roof. I was like her in the outfit dancing and I pushed the dancer(who was this guys handsome roomate )out of the way and was dancing with this guy I liked And I said to him a line from the song 'We are of a different mentality' and danced around haha I told him we were dying laughing about it..

 

*presses like*

That's nice to hear. I'm actually not good with describing actions and scenes so most of what I write has the character's thoughts in abundance.

And lol, that dream. I think I can imagine the scene well hahaha

 

Yeah,pretty funny for sure. I always have crazy dreams haha
Your description was very natural and flowed well with story !

 

hm........as always I have liked the post & don't comment, need to change it so :

it was good like always very easy to read or like Emmyy say "natural and flowed" *pat pat*,
it makes me remember of my dead cat
also reading Lola without reading what it means (i don't do it again) makes me think of the name of my classmate *cough*.

 

I hate nightmares. Very much. I especially hate those nightmares where I can't recall a single thing yet I'm left with a horrifying feeling. Pretty much the only clue that I had another nightmare. Well that and waking up in an ungodly hour....

Spoiler: Why I Run

I’m wandering in the dark. I can’t see anything but I knew in my heart, this is our old house. I could feel the cold wooden wall beneath my fingers as I try to go down the stairs. The air feels freezing cold because there’s a storm raging on outside. And as the rain drops putter-patter rhythmically on the glass windows, I hear the music in everything that moves, creating an art out of life and nature. Every sound has its place, every creak has its own part. Making the perfect song. Making the perfect symphony.

But something shattered the song. I heard loud voices, arguing and screaming at each other. Sounds that are not part of the whole orchestra. Their dissonance destroyed the beauty of the melody playing inside my head.

I followed these cries and found myself at our old living room.

I could see my Mom, wearing a brilliant red dress that emphasized the baby blues of her eyes. Eyes that are usually filled so much love and life is now harboring murderous intentions to whoever it is she’s talking to. But what made me stop from calling her out is the naked fear I saw in those eyes. Something totally unfamiliar.

My Mom’s a brave soul. Her courage knows no bound but something in this man wearing a brown trench coat had my Mom feel fear. Now, I noticed that Mom is shivering and it’s not because of the cold. She may be barefooted but she tries to stand tall, bravely facing the gun that’s pointed at her.

“Martin, please don’t do this. My daughter is upstairs, peacefully sleeping. We could talk about this, please.” My Mom pleaded. The scary man sighed, defeated.

“Jane, you know that Arson needs to learn his lesson. He needs to know that despite who he is, it is wrong for him to destroy my operations. I lost everything to your husband. Everything. I want him to know how that would feel. You know what, I might feel merciful and not kill your lovely daughter if you would die so willingly.” His voice sounded weird like its mechanical and not a real voice. And as the seconds pass by so excruciatingly slow, he feels more and more imaginary.

Lightning flashed again and thunders roared but I clearly heard what my Mom said.

“I’ll give up my life if you don’t harm my daughter. She’s my treasure, a melody better than anything I’ve heard before. Kill me.”

Lightning flashed and thunders roared. At the same time, the gunfire rang. I didn’t realized it then, that thunder and gunfires will become irreversibly intertwined in my mind. Turning every thunderstorm into a shot of pure fear plunged straight to my heart.

“MOM!” I screamed as I saw her fall down. Running to her side, crying and sobbing, ” Mom please don’t die. You promised you’ll be at my recital. You promised you’ll show me how to write music properly. You promised, Mom. I love you. Please, please, please don’t die.”

“I love you, angel. I’m sorry I can’t fulfill my promise.” With her final breath she whispered, “Run.”

Tears run down my face. Sobs are making it hard to breathe. My brain still hasn’t processed the fact that my Mom died but my body is already grieving. I don’t feel the cold. I don’t feel the fear. I can’t feel my heart. I can’t feel anything. I’m numb.

Lightning flashed again and this time, I saw eyes looking back at me from Martin’s face. And as thunder roared for the last time on that horrible night, a color was seared inside my head, the color of lifeless gray.

I woke up with a start. My breathing ragged. My thoughts are racing. Knowing for a fact that I had a nightmare but cannot remember a single detail other than the dread and misery that I’m currently feeling. Those and certain distinct color: gray.

Why? Why can’t I remember that dream. It felt important but I can't to bring it back to the surface of my consciousness.

Calming my breathing, I pulled back the curtain from the window. Sigh. It's still dark outside. Checking the mini grandfather clock ticking on the wall, I found out that it is only a quarter before 4 o’clock. Too early. I want to get back to sleep but the overwhelming dread I feel stopped me.

Sighing once more, I grabbed my running shoes, a running short and some random t-shirt. Time for a run.

 

Definitely seeing improvement, I think.

Instead of, "I didn’t realized it yet but thunders and gun fires will become irreversibly intertwined in my mind," how about this:
I didn't realize it yet, how thunder and gunfire sound so remarkably similar. From then on the two were unrecognizable from the other to me?

 

Thank you~

Though, I don't think I'll change it. I like the term irreversibly intertwined more than unrecognizable xD

 

I forgot I made a thread for short stories >.>
This one is a really personal story. I realized most that I've been writing lately is like that... maybe I lost my creativity fountain somewhere.

Anyway, another story of a young kid that discovered how the world works in cruel ways. Enjoy~

Spoiler: BETRAYED

When I was younger, I lived with my grandparents and mom in the province. There weren't really anyone my age nearby so I grew up with practically no friend. School's not a nice place, too. I was bullied 'cause my mom "talks to the wind". Kids can really be horrible haha.

I think I've said it multiple times already, my mom has a mental illness. It was only recently that she receives treatment though due to various circumstances. So all throughout my childhood, I was with a person who shouts and fights and talks to the wind. Especially after my grandparents died. There were even times when she tells me to listen to 'them' because 'they' know truths we can only hope to imagine.

I was impressionable, naive and loveless. The love that my grandparents gave me could never fill back the void my mom left there. After all, a child's craving for a parent's love will always be an unquenchable thirst. But it is the deepest love that gets twisted into becoming the deepest hate. At some point, I loathed my mom for being the root cause of my feelings of isolation. Such a stupid kid, right?

Then, one day, I met a small group of kids who live outside, a bit away from our compound. They were funny, active and just so happy. They became my first playmates.

Honestly, thinking about it now, they and I were from two different worlds. They live in the fringe of society while I don't. I remember when I first went to their house, it felt so small, so rickety and so hot. The wooden flooring felt unstable. It was just so uncomfortable, but I endured because for the first time in my life I'm playing with someone that isn't imaginary, or a pet or an object or a book. For the first time in my life, I have real live kids playing games with me. Games that I only see my classmates play with each other.

It was... fun.

However, a few weeks after, my playmate's mother said she needs money... She, an adult lady, is telling me, a kid, that they are experiencing financial trouble. In hindsight, I should have known it then, that I was simple being treated as a piggy bank.

My grandparents, they are generous. They give presents and money every Christmas. Add up the Christmas gifts from my other relatives and I guess I can be considered well-off for a kid.

Well-off naive kid + scamming adult from the fringe = not a good combination

So yeah, you could have guessed it. I let them borrow money. It was good for a few weeks. They said they'll give it back. I believed them haha. A few week more passed again, and voilà, they need money once more. I said, "I got no more cash."

You know what they told me? "Maybe you could get some from your grandparents."

"But, how would I tell them?"

"You don't have to tell them. Maybe you noticed a place where they put money or something. We will return it soon, don't worry."

They were right. My grandparents do have a certain metal box where they put some important documents and cash. And yeah, stupid me followed their instructions. I "borrowed" money from my grandparents.

Who am I fooling, it was plain stealing. This was the first time I committed a terrible sin. It was nerve-wracking. I know somewhere inside me that I'm doing something wrong but I keep telling myself that my friend's family need it as I pull open the metal box and grab a handful of bills lying around. They promise that it will be returned after. Just a few days and everything will be fine. Or so I thought.

A few days passed. While having dinner together as usual, my grandma, in her characteristic gentle voice, passingly asked, "Do you have anything you want to tell us?"

I fidget a bit in my seat, thinking if I should tell the truth because I was taught that lying is really bad when I suddenly recall a reminder from my friend's mother: It's a secret. Promise me.

And that's what I did, I kept a promise; I lied. Maybe grandma knew I lied but she just smiled at me and said okay. That hurts more than getting shouted at.

But some people are born greedy. She, my friend's mother, asked again for some money a few days later. I don't want to do it anymore so I said no. I said that they should return grandma's money first. She got a bit angry at me. She didn't shout but I know. I just know.

That day, I returned home early. And I didn't see my playmates for days.

I felt more alone than ever. This is what happens when you realise just what you are missing. From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows you go. Something that is way worse than staying at the lowest point all your life.

And so with my heart weakened, when my playmates returned to play, I was so happy. So I foolishly agreed to get money for them in hopes that it will make the sadness never come again. I was so conflicted, I tell you. But certain types of affection are addicting. And they make you more stupid than you already are.

However, this time, as I secretly enter their room and inch closely to the metal box, my grandma caught me red-handed. And the truth just rushed out of me. I confessed. I confessed all that I did and why I did it and how horrible it felt.

She just hugged me. Her hands rubbing circles on my back. And there I was, young and stupid, crying in her embrace. She hugged me more tightly and slowly I fell asleep.

The moment I woke up, I'm already on my room and the sun is just rising up. I heard a knock on the door before it swung open and revealed the figure of my grandma, already dressed for the day, carrying some hot pandesal and a glass full of milk.

"Are you feeling okay now? Come, eat up," she said as she put the plate on top of the bedside table.

There we were, eating breakfast together while watching the sunrise from beyond the big window. That day, I learned something I'll never forget:

Sometimes, love doesn't need to be voiced out in order to be felt. And there are some things that we just need to let go.

~The End~

 

Hey I write stories

 

Hey I have some ideas

 

Hey back?

Oh, you want to share?

 

Ya but I forgot

 

Beautiful. Tearful. Reminds me of Koe No katachi. But couldn't you make it a comedy? Was it necessary to break the hearts of your readers?