Short Stories

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

A collection of short stories.

Short Stories

Just a collection of short stories. Hope you enjoy the read.

 

~*~*~

 

 

Memories of Gray

 

It was, yet again, one of those days when she was unable to lay herself still on her bed. She was, yet again, alone, in a world where she endlessly fought, which she knew she would only to be granted three unwanted choices along the way: Live, eat, die.

The sun was out again, giving out warmth in every direction and spreading radiant light upon every surface. The same sight brought a frown to her lips, and she tilted her eyebrows. The sunlight, reflected by the window, produced a rainbow spectrum before her round eyes.

She slid her curtain upon the window. She wearily switched on the table-lamp, giving out a fluorescent orange light. The sudden rhythmic vibrations that reached her closed hand on the table jolted for a second into a state of high awareness. Her phone was singing the familiar classical ballad, the vibrations chanting like an incantation. The unknown number on the screen roused her sense of curiosity as she warily picked the phone up with her nimble fingers and spoke into the slim, rectangular block. “Hello?”

She missed the call, and immediately received three messages from the same anonymous sender instead. It read clearly upon the bright screen, “Life is useless? Time? Alone?”

The messages puzzled her greatly, and burdened her heart as well. Her thoughts lingered among the words for a long stretch of seconds. Her phone weighed on her hand, as she thought what if her existence would suddenly be no more. A clash of retentions collided with her mental awareness of the present. She was, yet again, stricken. Despite the frequent, repetitious occurrences, it had never become her habit. Nor was she ever able to adapt to it.

She shifted anxiously and tightened her hands into fists. It was always the same since the date she was in loss for her beloved that was once in her possession. Her forehead creased with efforts to concentrate. Her chest burdened with regret upon the memories which she fought to forget. Nostalgia squeezed her eyes, threatening to pour out bitter tears which she had felt slowly trickling down her cheeks every night. She took a shaky drink from her ceramic glass, then staggered out of the room.

The three messages lingered among her restless thoughts. She groped for the answers fruitlessly as she settled on the dining table. Her mind raced furiously for a possible clue hidden deep beneath. The questions very well led to fundamental answers of a person's nature of being from birth to death. She was obviously weary, with her weighty burden pressuring upon her mind. Unable to define the definite answer and frustrated yet again, she hopelessly dropped the keys she was holding and walked over to the piano bench.

A photo caught her attention. She gazed at it sorrowfully, unable to liven it back. It gave out a distinct impression of grievance, as she knew the person in the photograph was no more. As she beheld the retentions she regretted, missed, and caused her to broke out in small giggles, she was abruptly revealed to two conclusions: Mortality and relativity. She realized how worthless it all would have been if she had wasted her life only for temporary smiles for her own sake that only lasts for a while. She recalled watching the stars upon a high hill she had hiked years ago. Even though they seemed to be continuouslyblinking in the black space, she knew some of the stars were no more. It was in the time she discovered time is not relative, nor attached to her five senses in any way. She knew the stars were dead, and if she was to find one of the stars herself with any advanced technology, she knew she would only find remnants and debris of the supernova. The horrid realization of it! What she uncovered now, that life is just a similar repetitive pattern: a same cycle all people went through. They were like the stars, once taken an insight of their lives, would reveal nothing but worthless remnants and debris. She realized how swift time is if she had not taken use of it sensibly.

The answer should have brought her to immense desperation. It had all passed away from her, and time would not allow her to retry. But instead, she seized her chance, and commenced a spirit of determination to have a change to her vacant years of existence. She was bent upon her own sheer want to be different among others.

Gray: a dull shade born between black and white. Memories are gray. As life proceeds on, it eventually turned black, but never forgotten. She was all set to have a bright white future, a future of new born, hope and inspiration.

And so she went upstairs to take her note, and wrote down her whole plans for difference.

 

In life you need either inspiration or desperation.”

—Anthony Robbins


Submitted: July 24, 2014

© Copyright 2021 BigBang. All rights reserved.

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Comments

peacemaker06

we are all going to die, so make the most of today. sieze the moment! That was the conclusion i came to after reading your thought provoking piece. Life is not useless, life is what we make of it. As for mourning for loved ones, well i see it too ways. If we simply don't exist after dying then there is no point in stooping living after the death of a loved one. Sure, go through the mourning process naturally but then get on with life in their memory, do them proud. If they don't exist their memory is all that is left. If on the other hand there is life after death then you will see them again one day. So again, life your life and make them proud holding onto their memory till you meet again. Profound and poetic. Great job ")

Fri, August 1st, 2014 3:49am

Author
Reply

Thank you! :) That was what I'm trying to say! ^^ I am glad you found your time to read this piece :) Thanks for reading! :)

Thu, July 31st, 2014 10:12pm

Sahar Ahmad

Such a good piece with an elegant touch. I enjoy such philosophical writings like the one's of Elif Shafaq. I loved your message about life. KMU for your short stories. Cheers!

Thu, December 25th, 2014 4:44pm

Author
Reply

Thank you for reading! :) I appreciate your comments, Sahar ;)

Thu, December 25th, 2014 4:50pm

Oleg Roschin

Beautiful story, conveying great suspense through the sheer power of thought and emotion. Keep up the great work!

Tue, April 19th, 2016 7:04am

Author
Reply

Thank you so much for taking your time to read my work :) God bless!

Tue, April 19th, 2016 7:01am

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