short story

[alixzander]

hey,
i wrote a short story. i plan on subbmitted to this thing that might get it published. i just thought id see what you guys thought. its the first short story i have written.









A silent plead whispers through a winter wind. A plead to be accepted, to be acknowledged, to be heard. The cool breeze entered the bedroom of an awkward boy before being inhaled. This boy had a pale face, black hair, and blue eyes. He had no friends. No one at his school knew his name.

In class his peers feasted upon his emotions. Daily, kids sitting behind him would harass him mercilessly. This sick form of cannibalism sent tears streaming down his face everyday. During lunch he sat alone, reading. His books were his only friends. Only they understood his misery.

After school he would hold back his tears until he came to a shady cemetery. In the stillness of the graveyard’s atmosphere he would pour his heart to the faceless tombstones. They would not walk away. They would not dispute. They would simple embrace him with quietness as they absorbed his every word.

One particularly harsh day he ditched school and ran to the cemetery with all his might. He could not hold in his tears. Sadness stained the sidewalk as he rushed to dwell with the dead at his sanctuary.

“What did I do?” he whimpered “I never hurt anyone in my life. All I want is to be accepted, to have a refuge from solitude. Even after I realized my dreams, my hopes, were in vain I withdrew. Praying this would stop the sting of insults; halt the bitter arrows of censure that pierced my flesh. But nothing changed. Everyday I woke up, dreading the hell that I know was waiting for me. And everyday the same kids hurled the same insults, handing out the same abuse. My criticism is unavoidable. My life is a jinx. Maybe giving up is the only way to rid my pain.”

Out of his backpack he retrieved a large knife. His mind was made up. He was going to sever his wrists. He held the blade over his vain. In his current state of mind, with all hope lost, he let out a desperate shriek of anguish. This cry for help echoed through out the entire graveyard. It bounced off every grave that was scattered about.

His cry for help was heard. The dead that had bonded with him for so long came to his aid. Tombstones were pushed away. Out of the dark dirt hands broke the earth. Undead corpses arose all around him. Zombies, staggering, formed a murky mob around him. The smell of death and decay filled the air. The zombies were in his command.

Contempt fueled the boy’s heart. He took the knife away from his wrist and wielded it toward the sky. The zombies dazedly growled in approval. Scorn contracted on the boy’s face. He began to take small steps. His army of darkness followed. He raised his weapon (the same weapon he planed on using to take his own life he was going to use to take the lives of his aggressors) skyward and let out a blood hurling scream. He raced toward his school followed by an undead multitude.

A rotten stench was smelled by all the school seconds before the chaotic invaders arrived. School had not yet ended. The students and faculty were confined inside the walls. A roar, more powerful than an ocean, swept through the campus. Thinking it an earthquake, everyone scattered about in panic. The mayhem began. The zombies blindly attacked people randomly. Limbs were hurled everywhere. Blood spilled onto the ground and splattered onto the walls. Mutilated bodies cluttered the concrete.

The boy looked at the havoc that had been released. He noticed the zombies were ripping off human flesh and eating it. He pondered. Why shouldn’t he indulge in cannibalism? Aren’t these the same peers that feast upon his emotions? Why shouldn’t he feel justified to feast upon their flesh? He turned around a recognized a face. It was a one the kids that had made fun of him in class. Rage fogged his judgment. He rushed over to his foe, knocking him toward the ground. The boy then hacked away at his foes arm with his knife. While holding his foe down with his knees he began to consume his foes arm in front of him. Terror seized the foes facial expressions. The wind carried away cries of pain and agony.

The macabre died down. Soon nothing but bits of flesh and bone was left. The blood lust was satisfied. As shadows rolled across the grotesque wasteland of death, the boy and his zombie horde trudged back to their coffins. The boy would join his undead brothers as they reentered the underworld. All his memories were erased, his aguish dissolved, his fire put out. All that was left to do was sleep.

The most heinous and chilling aspect of this tale is it could have easily been prevented. The boy’s brutal acts are the result of a society that thrives off other people’s pains and sufferings. We enjoy scoffing at other people’s discomfort. We smile when we see successful people’s reputations shatter. We are a sadistic society. Only when society accepts and addresses responsibility for this sadism will the carnage backlashes cease.

[fluffho]

pretty creative and descriptive

although you may want to vary your sentence structure a bit. maybe yuo ment it that way, but if you vary it will be more fun to read

and u will sound smarter :-D

[PsychoticPanda]

I paid more attention to the beginning and end, the middle was fine. It was fun to read. I like stories, and like fluff said it was creative and descriptive. But, I was reading it during around the end of the middle. I was reading it, but I wasn't really paying attention to it. Overall it was pretty good, though.