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This week is Week Without Walls at my school, and I am in a creative writing workshop. We've been writing short stories from prompts these past two days depending on the genre of the day, so I decided to share them here to see what you think. They aren't very elaborate and were made over the course of about half an hour each. Tell me what you think!
Monday: Horror / Mystery / Suspense / Crime / Action
My Friend
The gunshot boomed around the room. In my hiding place behind the table, I shivered. The walls were covered with white plastic sheets, sheets that were now stained with red. The owner of the house had been getting ready to move away. I heard a thump: the body of Mrs. Whiskers falling to the floor. From my spot I could see her hand. A bloody, red hand. It was still, lifeless, like ice. She was still clutching her cellphone, an alert telling her she had two new messages. I closed my eyes and wished it all away. I heard Derek’s footsteps. His heavy feet crunched the sheets as he moved across the room. What should I do? My friend had just murdered my teacher. We hated the teacher, and he’d joked about it all along. I never actually believed it would happen. I was unsure of what to do now. I didn’t even know if he had seen me. I had innocently followed him inside. The table flipped over me. I gasped.
He had seen me.
“I told you my man!” he laughed and helped me to my feet. He was warm. I was cold. I tried to smile and ended up frowning. “It’s all over now,” he slithered. The words escaped his lips like a snake escapes its cage. I couldn’t go to the police. I couldn’t do that to my friend. “Here, hold this,” he said, as he handed me the gun. I took it in my hands. Idiot. Now my handprints were on it. Now I definitely couldn’t go to the police. I looked at his face, looking for the warmth I’d known. The friendly gestures that had formed who Derek was. There was nothing. It had all been replaced with a blank stare, a cold grin. Lifeless eyes. The decision formed in my head before human morale and my conscience stopped it.
Derek walked over to Mrs. Whiskers. He inspected his work, the smile never leaving his face. What was wrong with him? I had already taken aim before he turned. He did it slowly, sensing something aloof. His sassy nature evaporated almost immediately. “What are you doing there, little guy?” he asked me. For the first time tonight, his voice trembled. He knew something was wrong. He began shaking. Not enough to be noticeable, but I knew my friend. I knew he was afraid. For a moment, I hesitated. The coldness broke. A ray of light, of life, shone through. Then it was gone. I had no other choice.
“I am doing you a favor,” I responded. I swallowed the saliva in my mouth, forcing down the knot in my throat. I didn’t hear the second gunshot. I didn’t feel the gun fall to the floor, nor the body. As the blood in him seeped to the ground and spread out, forming delicate red patterns on the white floor, so too did my consciousness seep from mine. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand. However, I understood the darkness surrounding me. I knew this darkness. I embraced the darkness. Who am I?
I awoke hours later. I moved slowly, floating in an eternal dream-state. Once again, I knew I couldn’t call the cops. I wanted to, but my body refused. So I finished what Derek had started. I knew Derek. I missed Derek... I was Derek. After that night, the police never found the bodies, and I never found myself.
Tuesday: Drama / Romance
The Other One
She collapsed on the floor, her black dress covering her legs and red heels as her arms went around her face. She was shivering, and a cold sweat was escaping her. I could tell as I put my arms around her, trying to calm her, that she was crying. At first she viciously pushed me away, waves of hate emanating from her. I waited a few seconds. The pale walls and dark lighting of the hotel room only accentuated the silence, the deep yet shallow silence which had characterized the entirety of the night. A cold kiss to say hello and an awkward conversation in the limousine were the only interactions of the night. Throughout the party, she’d kept her distance. I knew she knew.
I tried once again to hold her. Relentless, she moaned in denial. This time, I didn’t back off. She needed to understand, lest I never forgive myself.
“Baby...” I started. She choked. I didn’t realize the word then must’ve stung like icy needles. The night sky shown through the windows, but there were no stars, no moon to light the hours of darkness. Suddenly, her shivering stopped and she looked up at me. Her soulless stare pained me even more than the silence. The rimmel around her puffy red eyes had run down all the way to her chin. Her eyes, emotionless, and the words that came from her mouth even more.
“Baby. That’s what you called her in your messages, isn’t it?” I cringed. She’d been going through my phone. She knew, and there was no backing down now. There was no apology that could soothe her scorn, no lie cunning enough. All that was left was the truth. The best way to start was the simplest truth, one that was undeniable.
“I love you,” I said. Her hand moved faster than I’d anticipated. The pain shot up through my skull, but I didn’t care. I knew I deserved it. “I love you,” I repeated, softly, almost in a whisper. She slapped me again. Now my cheek was pulsating. More tears sprung from her eyes, but she didn’t look away.
“Those fifty roses on Valentine’s day, the chocolate box on my birthday, all stupid lies,” came her voice. “So stupid, so stupid...” I didn’t interrupt. “I can’t believe you would do that to me!” The scream surprised me. She was a petite girl, her tone never louder than that of a hummingbird. “I trusted you. I was there for you. I stood by your side like you promised you would stand by mine. You said you wanted me, you said I was the only one!” She began shivering again, but something told me it was more from rage than anything else. The silence lasted minutes after that.
“I was weak,” I started, before she interrupted once again.
“Oh please don’t give me the typical ****ty cliché, I know what you did, and let me tell you that wasn’t weakness, it was idiocratic, heartless, disrespectful...” She didn’t continue, but even more tears came from her eyes. I knew she had to get them out, or she would drown in her own sorrow and anger. I looked at the floor. I knew there was no hope. The romance was gone. All that was left was romantic misery and disgrace. I felt her stare burn holes in my head, so I looked up. She no longer looked like a woman. She was a child, small, innocent, with the intense flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
“Why did you cheat on me, Alexander?” she asked. I sighed. As I took the tarnished wedding band from my pocket, I shrugged the truth off my shoulders.
“I didn’t cheat on you... I cheated on her.”
Monday: Horror / Mystery / Suspense / Crime / Action
My Friend
The gunshot boomed around the room. In my hiding place behind the table, I shivered. The walls were covered with white plastic sheets, sheets that were now stained with red. The owner of the house had been getting ready to move away. I heard a thump: the body of Mrs. Whiskers falling to the floor. From my spot I could see her hand. A bloody, red hand. It was still, lifeless, like ice. She was still clutching her cellphone, an alert telling her she had two new messages. I closed my eyes and wished it all away. I heard Derek’s footsteps. His heavy feet crunched the sheets as he moved across the room. What should I do? My friend had just murdered my teacher. We hated the teacher, and he’d joked about it all along. I never actually believed it would happen. I was unsure of what to do now. I didn’t even know if he had seen me. I had innocently followed him inside. The table flipped over me. I gasped.
He had seen me.
“I told you my man!” he laughed and helped me to my feet. He was warm. I was cold. I tried to smile and ended up frowning. “It’s all over now,” he slithered. The words escaped his lips like a snake escapes its cage. I couldn’t go to the police. I couldn’t do that to my friend. “Here, hold this,” he said, as he handed me the gun. I took it in my hands. Idiot. Now my handprints were on it. Now I definitely couldn’t go to the police. I looked at his face, looking for the warmth I’d known. The friendly gestures that had formed who Derek was. There was nothing. It had all been replaced with a blank stare, a cold grin. Lifeless eyes. The decision formed in my head before human morale and my conscience stopped it.
Derek walked over to Mrs. Whiskers. He inspected his work, the smile never leaving his face. What was wrong with him? I had already taken aim before he turned. He did it slowly, sensing something aloof. His sassy nature evaporated almost immediately. “What are you doing there, little guy?” he asked me. For the first time tonight, his voice trembled. He knew something was wrong. He began shaking. Not enough to be noticeable, but I knew my friend. I knew he was afraid. For a moment, I hesitated. The coldness broke. A ray of light, of life, shone through. Then it was gone. I had no other choice.
“I am doing you a favor,” I responded. I swallowed the saliva in my mouth, forcing down the knot in my throat. I didn’t hear the second gunshot. I didn’t feel the gun fall to the floor, nor the body. As the blood in him seeped to the ground and spread out, forming delicate red patterns on the white floor, so too did my consciousness seep from mine. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand. However, I understood the darkness surrounding me. I knew this darkness. I embraced the darkness. Who am I?
I awoke hours later. I moved slowly, floating in an eternal dream-state. Once again, I knew I couldn’t call the cops. I wanted to, but my body refused. So I finished what Derek had started. I knew Derek. I missed Derek... I was Derek. After that night, the police never found the bodies, and I never found myself.
Tuesday: Drama / Romance
The Other One
She collapsed on the floor, her black dress covering her legs and red heels as her arms went around her face. She was shivering, and a cold sweat was escaping her. I could tell as I put my arms around her, trying to calm her, that she was crying. At first she viciously pushed me away, waves of hate emanating from her. I waited a few seconds. The pale walls and dark lighting of the hotel room only accentuated the silence, the deep yet shallow silence which had characterized the entirety of the night. A cold kiss to say hello and an awkward conversation in the limousine were the only interactions of the night. Throughout the party, she’d kept her distance. I knew she knew.
I tried once again to hold her. Relentless, she moaned in denial. This time, I didn’t back off. She needed to understand, lest I never forgive myself.
“Baby...” I started. She choked. I didn’t realize the word then must’ve stung like icy needles. The night sky shown through the windows, but there were no stars, no moon to light the hours of darkness. Suddenly, her shivering stopped and she looked up at me. Her soulless stare pained me even more than the silence. The rimmel around her puffy red eyes had run down all the way to her chin. Her eyes, emotionless, and the words that came from her mouth even more.
“Baby. That’s what you called her in your messages, isn’t it?” I cringed. She’d been going through my phone. She knew, and there was no backing down now. There was no apology that could soothe her scorn, no lie cunning enough. All that was left was the truth. The best way to start was the simplest truth, one that was undeniable.
“I love you,” I said. Her hand moved faster than I’d anticipated. The pain shot up through my skull, but I didn’t care. I knew I deserved it. “I love you,” I repeated, softly, almost in a whisper. She slapped me again. Now my cheek was pulsating. More tears sprung from her eyes, but she didn’t look away.
“Those fifty roses on Valentine’s day, the chocolate box on my birthday, all stupid lies,” came her voice. “So stupid, so stupid...” I didn’t interrupt. “I can’t believe you would do that to me!” The scream surprised me. She was a petite girl, her tone never louder than that of a hummingbird. “I trusted you. I was there for you. I stood by your side like you promised you would stand by mine. You said you wanted me, you said I was the only one!” She began shivering again, but something told me it was more from rage than anything else. The silence lasted minutes after that.
“I was weak,” I started, before she interrupted once again.
“Oh please don’t give me the typical ****ty cliché, I know what you did, and let me tell you that wasn’t weakness, it was idiocratic, heartless, disrespectful...” She didn’t continue, but even more tears came from her eyes. I knew she had to get them out, or she would drown in her own sorrow and anger. I looked at the floor. I knew there was no hope. The romance was gone. All that was left was romantic misery and disgrace. I felt her stare burn holes in my head, so I looked up. She no longer looked like a woman. She was a child, small, innocent, with the intense flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
“Why did you cheat on me, Alexander?” she asked. I sighed. As I took the tarnished wedding band from my pocket, I shrugged the truth off my shoulders.
“I didn’t cheat on you... I cheated on her.”
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