Post by Flamingo on Mar 12, 2018 18:34:59 GMT
Original post: I refuse to be bound by formal introduction speeches, so here I go… I’m really bad when it comes to keeping things alive. I lose motivation, get bored, try to start again with some other project and start bumping all of my unfinished creations together. So, in an effort to change that, I set a challenge onto myself: To make a compilation of short stories with an extension of 600 words or less. I took direct inspiration from the Expresso Shots, as limiting the amount of words I can use will help me improve on story structure and other things I’m somewhat clumsy with.
Edit: This was supposed to be my till for all my short stories. It seems as if though I'll have to twist that description, won't I... Well then. This is basically the place I'll use to plug a Pokémon story I'm currently hosting in another forum, with occasional original stories and such. The following piece is an example of the latter.
WARNING: The following story contains the following: death, violence and somewhat disturbing scenes. Do not read if you can't stand these things.
~Santiago embraced the bag with surprising strength, clenching it and crossing his arms upon the cover, guarding it as if though his whole life depended on it. And, in all honesty, that was the case.
It was a bag of gold he’d stolen from a pirate cruise three days ago. He’d worked in there for two months, breaking down on his knees to kindly kiss the captain’s swollen feet, receiving punishments for his performance during work and enduring the hard conditions of the ocean. He didn’t care about any of it, for he had a big plan on mind: He’d go out of his room one night, knife in hand, slowly walking throughout the ship, and enter the captain’s cabin; he would then cut his throat, stopping the blood from springing with a thin patch of leather. Afterwards, he’d take the bag of gold from beneath the captain’s bed, and escape on a little boat to Madrid, Spain.
And so he did; one night, he woke up and drew the knife from behind his pillow, slowly walked past the wooden tiles of the floor until reaching the door of the captain’s room… The rest didn’t go by as smoothly, however, as the captain quickly reacted when the first sloppy cut licked his throat. Santiago had to drop the knife and outright strangle his captain; the bloody bastard held onto his life for longer than expected.
The bag was retrieved, and, soon enough, Santiago was out, lying in a boat. Not long passed before he finally realized that he hadn’t packed any food with him, and that he had no water to drink.
After a few days trying to overcome the hunger, Santiago started to eat his own clothes. They tasted awfully, the dirt mixed with the sweat and the salt, and the texture was like a humid cover of soil, but he ate them nonetheless. Although he was disgusted with himself for ever doing so, the hunger was satiated and he thought that he would be able to survive until reaching Madrid.
However, the ocean seemed endless, as time went by, and Santiago reached a state of utter insanity. He had nothing else to eat; after all, the only things on that boat besides him were the bag and the gold inside. He couldn’t afford to lose his money, the money he needed to start anew in Madrid, but the hunger would not stop.
He bit the lace and opened the bag; the golden coins hit the wood with fascinating speed and he saw them with awe. They were brilliant; such a big amount of money would’ve made him rich in Spain. These thoughts invaded his mind until a sudden growl from his stomach made the decision easier to take. He took one of the coins and kept it between his fingers until taking courage and swallowing it. It hurt his lungs, but the coin swiftly fell to the stomach and a portion of the hunger was gone. Another coin was eaten; then, another one, and another one, and the next one, until eating every single coin of the bag, but one little penny with the figure of a swan marked on it. Santiago coughed some blood and kept the penny on a closed punch.
Two days later, when he reached Madrid, he bought a single piece of bread with the penny.
It was delicious.
Edit: This was supposed to be my till for all my short stories. It seems as if though I'll have to twist that description, won't I... Well then. This is basically the place I'll use to plug a Pokémon story I'm currently hosting in another forum, with occasional original stories and such. The following piece is an example of the latter.
WARNING: The following story contains the following: death, violence and somewhat disturbing scenes. Do not read if you can't stand these things.
~
It was a bag of gold he’d stolen from a pirate cruise three days ago. He’d worked in there for two months, breaking down on his knees to kindly kiss the captain’s swollen feet, receiving punishments for his performance during work and enduring the hard conditions of the ocean. He didn’t care about any of it, for he had a big plan on mind: He’d go out of his room one night, knife in hand, slowly walking throughout the ship, and enter the captain’s cabin; he would then cut his throat, stopping the blood from springing with a thin patch of leather. Afterwards, he’d take the bag of gold from beneath the captain’s bed, and escape on a little boat to Madrid, Spain.
And so he did; one night, he woke up and drew the knife from behind his pillow, slowly walked past the wooden tiles of the floor until reaching the door of the captain’s room… The rest didn’t go by as smoothly, however, as the captain quickly reacted when the first sloppy cut licked his throat. Santiago had to drop the knife and outright strangle his captain; the bloody bastard held onto his life for longer than expected.
The bag was retrieved, and, soon enough, Santiago was out, lying in a boat. Not long passed before he finally realized that he hadn’t packed any food with him, and that he had no water to drink.
After a few days trying to overcome the hunger, Santiago started to eat his own clothes. They tasted awfully, the dirt mixed with the sweat and the salt, and the texture was like a humid cover of soil, but he ate them nonetheless. Although he was disgusted with himself for ever doing so, the hunger was satiated and he thought that he would be able to survive until reaching Madrid.
However, the ocean seemed endless, as time went by, and Santiago reached a state of utter insanity. He had nothing else to eat; after all, the only things on that boat besides him were the bag and the gold inside. He couldn’t afford to lose his money, the money he needed to start anew in Madrid, but the hunger would not stop.
He bit the lace and opened the bag; the golden coins hit the wood with fascinating speed and he saw them with awe. They were brilliant; such a big amount of money would’ve made him rich in Spain. These thoughts invaded his mind until a sudden growl from his stomach made the decision easier to take. He took one of the coins and kept it between his fingers until taking courage and swallowing it. It hurt his lungs, but the coin swiftly fell to the stomach and a portion of the hunger was gone. Another coin was eaten; then, another one, and another one, and the next one, until eating every single coin of the bag, but one little penny with the figure of a swan marked on it. Santiago coughed some blood and kept the penny on a closed punch.
Two days later, when he reached Madrid, he bought a single piece of bread with the penny.
It was delicious.