SHORT STORY IV

What am I? I really don’t know. I can’t see myself. I’m floating. I never drown. I did try to stop breathing but it didn’t work. I kept living. I touched myself and didn’t felt more than a slimy and jelly body. I don’t have a shape. I can never have a shape, I’m constantly changing. Oh dear, I’m morphing again. What am I? I don’t go towards others to eat them; they just float into my stomach. Do I choose what I eat? I know no one choose to eat me. I’ve been swallowed so many times and was spited again back to my world. What is my world? I don’t know. I’m floating in it and it floats in me. I can’t see. How can I explain something that I don’t know? Oh here it goes again… One… Two… Spited again.

SHORT STORY III

All the family were happy. The waiting was long but now they can see in front of their eyes how amazing is the new caravan. They will have such a great holidays all the way down to south. Billy and Sean, the two youngsters of the family are very excited. They want to spend the night on their new beds.  Alice she is seventeen. She really doesn’t bother about that caravan, but in her mind she built her own plan.  “Why don’t you try the caravan tonight? You can spend the night there. The kids are going to love it”. She said to her father. The father is a bit reluctant but in the end he agrees.  “Well… why not? Tomorrow is Sunday; we will have all day free. Come on kids, go get the sleeping bags”. Alice waits until they all get to sleep. Under the darkness of the night, she blocks the door and lights a petrol bucket under the caravan. 

SHORT STORY II

I just arrived to Kings Cross… No wait, I mean Charing Cross. Yes it was Charing Cross. It was raining a lot. My shoes were wet and my socks cold and soaked. I found an empty bench and I sat. There was a pastry smashed on the ground and some pigeons were trying to avoid me to get a piece of it.  I didn’t eat anything that morning.

Short Story I

A Short Story:

I met this girl at the football match when she was hit by a ball straight to her head.

I kind of tried to protect her, but I missed. Anyway she was thankful and we eventually exchanged numbers. We sent some messages to each other and we decided to book a date.

She said she had this problem of balls hitting her head time and time again. It happened all the time. Ping Pong balls, beach balls, berliners and doughnuts… They always used to find a way to hit her in the head.

On the way to meet me she passed near a building demolition and a wrecking ball smashed her head to the floor.

Well in the end it wasn’t my fault, she was used to it. Not my fault she died on the way to meet me.