I wrote a story last night out of boredom. I highlighted the very limited time we have in living in this story and we should treasure every minute of our everyday. I also thought about this because I had this very personal conversation with my work mate about how short our life can be and how oddly we grow so fast. I still don’t have a title for this short story as this was also never been edited. If you have any suggestions, please don’t hesitate to comment them here!
An untitled draft by Jake Cuamag
The story begins here:
The whistling whisper of the wind moved from the sky to tap every bird gushed in height come down to earth and settle as the sun peeked through the early cloud of Monday morning. For a 17 year-old boy, Carhl Piassen, it was another mundane week. It was another week for the room to be messy. The wall painted in dark blue, the sheets are gray, the things all black. It was a dark room that depicts the sulky nature of this uninterested boy. Carhl is as timid as he can be. He never shows interest in any kind of things recently.
He lived absolutely all by himself. His divorced mother left him everything he needs before she was killed in a car accident a year ago. For him, it was never too easy albeit his grandmother visits him twice a week. He needs to stand up and prepare for the day worth less caring about. He needs to go down to the kitchen and prepare himself the kind of breakfast the normal people would have. Pancakes, strawberry syrups, milk, toast bread, cheese maybe.
He finished his breakfast in silence while staring at the wall blankly. He laid his plate on the week old uncleaned sink. He took a shower and put on his school uniform; a white long sleeved polo shirt under a black coat with the school seal embroidered on the upper left chest. He also put on his red tie. Everything was creased but he looks perfectly fit with what he wore. He thought he needed to go to school soon as he is going to be late again. He grabbed his school bag filled with paper he knew his mother should have read. He knew his grand mother should know about but he hesitated to share what a disaster he has been in school. He was not like this last year. He misses his mother. He misses everything about last year.
He goes to school gear-less on his skate board. He can’t drive. He’s scared of driving or maybe he’ll try to drive and meet her mother anyway. He pushed himself relentlessly on his skateboard with his hands on his pocket. He felt something on his right hand and he knew it was a piece of paper his classmate gave to him yesterday. Informing Carhl on a dirty scribbled manner that he should call him up to play some shoots after school but he never cared and even bothered calling that he’s not interested. He continued kicking the streets thinking really deep about what being alone felt. No he was like this for a year now. He knows that no one really deserves to be alone he is in a trance. A constant trance on the street and then an enormous sound came into his ears, on his left. This sound is eerie and screeching in pain. He realized that he was alive and that was the most ineffable feeling of all times. He felt more alive but he realized that was the last time he would feel that warmth of blood moving from vein to brain. His heart pumped like never before as this sound came into existence, came to visibility and then he noticed that a lorry is going to hit him entirely. He never understood the split second pain but it caught him and that was it. The moment he felt he wanted to live was the moment he actually died. The whistling whisper of the lorry gave him enough reason to live.
Sorry, I have to kill him. I don’t know how to write a story. Anyway, nice try.