Day 247 Writing Short Stories

Compromise

I have never been good with words. I have never been good with people either. Somehow, I thought after the incident that being alone on a strange planet would be easy for me. But then you start to notice that you talk to yourself a lot. You mutter odd things that are not healthy. You begin to see that actually the words and the people mattered.

You may think that you should have compromised more about the little nasty habits you had, the unbending thoughts you had gathered inside you, and your own time, which you thought so valuable; more so now, as there is just me and the ruins of the space station that once held more life than I could handle.

Now that life is buried on the alien soil. All done by me. I thought they deserved a proper funeral. I thought it was better if I didn’t see all the bodies lying around scattered on the fields. I have grown my crops on it.

I made the dead their own cemetery. I visit them often. Mostly to talk to them. I’m glad no one replies. If they do, I know I have lost the last of my sanity. That will happen at some point. I’m sure of it. There is no rescue. I’m stranded on the planet until I die.

The planet is pleasant, at least. There are enough plants to nourish me, enough land to explore, and enough materials for me to build things. I’m planning to make a raft to explore the waters and the other lands. I think it does me good to get away from the wreckage and the dead. I’m pretty sure that none of them thought I would be the one to survive. I’m pretty sure everyone hoped it would be them. Not that they had any time to hope, as didn’t I.

It just happened, and then when I woke up, I was alone and alive. I have counted the bodies. A few are missing, but they may have landed in places I couldn’t find. There are days I hope they will appear alive, and I will have company to keep. But I have already lost that hope. I have already been alone for 374 days.

Graduation Speech

His hands trembled. He had researched the topic and knew exactly which lines adults wanted and which his peers would cheer. They wanted him to morph into their expectations, not be himself. He had read every inspirational quote he could find, as well as speeches given by great men and not-so-great men. All he had come up with was shit and tough luck. Things don’t get better from here. That actually these are the best years of our lives, and we are screwed onward with responsibilities and worries beyond our comprehension. But he couldn’t say that. That sounded wrong.

They called his name, and his heart began to race. The blood flushed into his ears as he stood up and took his steps to the podium. All of them knew him. There were most likely more academically deserving students in the crowd who deserved this spot. There were better athletes than him. But he had something of both, making him a star student in the eyes of his teachers and the colleges that had all wanted him. His future was set, unlike most whose eyes he met.

He took a deep breath in, and said all that he could say, and that was “We are screwed, but so were others before us, and those who come after us. This is how it goes. I could say something about the best of the times or bright futures or changing the world, but I’m pretty sure that only one of us thought this was the best of the times, only one of us has that bright future, and most likely none of us change the world…”

He heard the murmurs.

“But it doesn’t matter. We managed to survive, and now, as the boot camp is over, we have to join the circus. So class of 98’, it’s over and good riddance.”

There was just one lousy cheer. Then forced applause as they realized it was all over.

He went back to his seat, and was glad that he didn’t have to repeat the process allover.

Beard

If I grew a beard, would you still love me?
If I grew a beard, would everything change?
If I grew a beard, would it matter at all?

I grew a beard, and my wife got angry.
I grew a beard, and nothing really changed.
I grew a beard, and in the end, it didn’t matter.

It made me all cheery.

The prompts are from the book A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

Though ones! I was pretty sure I couldn’t write any of them, but I managed to find an angle and write something to all of them. I really didn’t want to write the last one where the wife hates her husband growing a beard, but I made it into something. Not sure what that something is.

Also, it was fun to write a first-person narrative for the first prompt. I usually go with the third, so shaking things up did some good.

I have a more relaxed morning today before I have to leave for work. So I will use the opportunity and take my cat on the couch and cuddle with him. He has written all morning with me, sleeping on my desk just past the keyboard. He is entirely asleep and making cute noises. He loves sleeping with me, and if you asked him, he would be attached to me all day.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a wonderful day!