The Short Stories Thread

[Avo]

If you have any "short stories" you'd like to share, post them here!!

Anyway, hope we get some cool short stories!!

They can be as short as you want!

But not too short, just the right amount.

I'll also accept poems.

[Buff_]

I'd consider my back stories, short stories. Basically everyone's is a short story, so I guess this is for reallyshort stories.

[TrappedTime]

Poem

lalallaLovely Darkness

Dark and quiet, just lovely.
What you may think to be weird, for me is beautiful, silent, and just lovely.
The dark world even in day.
The dark world is lovely.

It's too bright, so turn off the lights.
Night time may be scary, but dark mornings are great.
Waking up to the sun is annoying to my eyes.
But if it's dark, then it's more than okay.

Street lights on.
Asleep on the highway.
Signs lighting the sky.
That's my way.

It feels so good to be out in the morning.
To feel sleepy, and I guess any day.
That one felling I get is great.
Because the darkness is lovely.

[Blablob]

Alright. Here's one by me.

Through the dog's eyes

I didn't know what was going on. I was innocent, simple, nice, loving, protective. I just went up to the food on the table--I mean, it was just there, for me as a treat--and I grabbed the meatloaf with my mouth. Such a sweet sensation as I chewed the meat in my mouth. I swallowed with an inside smile, thanking my owner for such a nice treat. How nice was he?

Then, something struck me on the rear. Pain shot up throughout my entire body, into my brain. I screeched and took a jump forward; I turned and saw my owner: Mr. Gordan.

"NO, DIGGER! THAT'S BAD!" He yelled at me, and I wish I could respond. I wish I could. I didn't mean that; couldn't he understand that?

He opened the patio door, and I ran out. He gave me one last kick in the bun. It hurt worst than the first one, since he was wearing boots. I turned around and clawed at the door for him to let me in. He just stared at me with a devilish look, and yelled "NO! YOU STAY OUT THERE!" What had I done wrong?

I was fed up. I needed to get out. At least for a while. I mean, I couldn't hang out here all night. It was getting dark; I needed some kind of shelter, and if my owner can't give it to me, then...then....forget him!

I walked up to a fence, and started to dig a deep hole. it took me about 20 minutes to dig the entire hole--hey, I'm a labrador, so I'm a bit slow--and finally I slipped my way through the hole, and I was out. Yeah, forget my owner!

I ran off into a highway, and as fast as I was free, a big car nearly ran me over. Some guy stuck his head out the window, "WATCH IT! JUST 'CAUSE YOU COLOR BLIND DON'T MEAN YOU CAR BLIND!" I hurried out of the street. The owner through something out of his window, that hit me. Just some paper and wrappers.

The truth was, dogs aren't color blind. We don't see colors like you do--what's red to you could be purple or yellow to me--but we do see them. Regardless, we have very good eyesight. It stuns me why eye doctors never give us dogs an eye exam.

I ran into an open garage, that seemed to be empty. I guess the people had moved recently, and forgot one last thing: to close the garage. I decided, this was good shelter. I could hang out here, get some rest for the night.

And then what?

Gosh, I guess I hadn't thought the whole plan through. I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep, when I heard a deeper growl than I could ever make. I opened my eyes, and there stood a big rottwieller--it must've been twice if not three times my size. It didn't say anything; it just stared at me. See, dogs have this kind of sensoring where they don't need to speak to communicate. The rotweiler had huge, sharp teeth. Then I realized, it had a collar.

"You have an owner?" I asked. It came out as a bark, of course, but our barking was our version of people talk.

"You need to get, fast. This is my terf. Been here for 5 years, surviving on what I can. Ain't nobody gonna steal it from me."

Five years? I guess the owners have been gone for awhile. Either that, or no one cared about this house.

"Look. I have no where else to sleep either. Please, can I stay here?"

"NO!"

"What if....what if I helped you get your owner again?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your collar! It must have some kind of information on it."

"What, this? I never realized it was there. And I anyway, I ain't gonna use it." It was then I realized that this dog had been mistreated for a long time. He was dying. He didn't know what he wanted. But I know what he needed: love.

"What's your name?"

"Hm....Spot. My old name used to be Gerald, but I figured that was stupid."

"I'm Digger."

"Look, I don't care. You need to go."

"Please__"

"GO!"

I hurried my little tail out of there. I knew my mission: I needed to help this dog. I knew exactly what I had to do. I ran up to my owner's house, who was literally calling for me now. I barked, and he looked at me, and ran up to me. "DIGGER! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN! I WAS WORRIED SICK!" I crawled my way through the hole I had made. My owner said something about that's how I got out. I let him hug me, pet me, everything a dog needed in life. But then I remembered: the mission.

I tugged on his blue jeans, and turned my head toward the garage down the street, to show him I wanted him to go there. "What is it boy? You wanna go look?" He put me on a leesh and opened the gate. I ran down the street. He yelled "Slow down, boy!" I didn't.

We arrived at the garage. Spot looked up, and barked. "What are you doing?"

I barked back. "Helping you."

The owner looked confused. "Does this little fella have a home?" He went up to pet him, and Spot growled at first. But he let Mr. Gordan pet him. Then he noticed the collar. "I guess he does have an owner somewhere. I think we should let him be."

He stared into my eyes, and I gave him the pleading puppy eyes, which a dog could use to get anybody to do anything. "Buuut, I suppose we could hold onto him for now, at least until we find his original." Spot smiled; he knew that would never happen.

Now we were back at my house. Mr. Gordan was petting both of us, giving us treats as we did tricks; he was trying to train Spot. Tomorrow, he'd have to bring him to the vet for a checkup. He also gave him a big bowl of food. That dog couldn't be happier.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you before, Digger. Never again. Besides, it was my fault for leaving the meatloaf out." I licked him to ensure I forgave him. I knew he didn't mean it.

Later, I walked into the living room, where I found Spot laying on the chair. "How you coming there?" I asked him. He opened his eyes, and said "Thank you. This is the happiest I've ever been. In 5 years, anyway."

"Anytime, Spot." I walked away. This was great! I had a new best friend.

It's good to be the dog.