Two Shorter Stories

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Travelers
Two travelers were hiking upon a dirt path that wound its way through a forest. They walked for days, and eventually reached a shallow river. A thin bridge was hung above it. The bridge was extremely unstable: dampened by years of spray from the river, dotted with holes, dilapidated in every sense. The first man said, “I shall go first to see if it is steady.” And so he tentatively placed his foot onto the bridge and, seeing that it did not break, ventured to ease the rest of his body on. Step by step, he reached the middle of the bridge. “It is safe!” he called to his companion. But the second traveler was not as conservative in his movements. As he set his boot onto the bridge, the whole structure crumbled, and both plunged down and were crushed by the peaceful rocks below.

The Rock
I have been thrashed about in the vehement waters of the ocean for nearly all of eternity, before I was spit out upon the sand, where I lie, cradled by the ceaseless noise of the waves; swinging in at times, then retreating back out, like a pendulum. But I am lonely. I have sat here for years, never having felt the smoothness of a human hand, the warmth of a human heart. I am beautiful: round, hardy, a dark, handsome shade of gray. But I am unappreciated, unobserved, even tread upon. They have kicked me, and I have rolled through the sand, only to stop in a new position. I try to ignore this, tell myself that if they were only to look at me, they would see how precious I am. I know that one day there will be a child who will pick me up, turn me over in their hands, admire my unique texture. This is what I remind myself each time I am passed by, or stepped on, or abused. I lie there, alone, unwanted. And one day I feel it: the fingers wrapping around me, lifting me into the air. At last! The day has come! I shall be loved, cherished! As the child toys with me in his hands, I glimpse his face: not adoring, but more like...amused? There is a second of horrible realization before he hurls me into the water, where I am swallowed and cast into the sand beneath.
Last edited by Kafkaescence on Sun Feb 13, 2011 12:22 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Hi Kafka! :D

I like the second story better! It has more of an ironic feeling to it, which I kind of adore. The only thing that could possibly make it better is if the child tried to skip it, so the rock bounced on the water before sinking into the ocean. XD

The first story is a little bit odd because it doesn't really explain how the whole bridge collapsed. That doesn't quite make sense to me... but I may be over thinking the physics of it all.

In any case, good ideas! But the second one is definitely the best. :)
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You should submit your second story to Silentpages' contest! It's all about rocks, really.
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Hey there! I've never really read many stories as short as these, but I was most definitely glad to have stumbled upon this thread!

As for your first, it has a more fable type feel to it, where I can clearly see what the moral of the story is. It communicates to your readers that it is sometimes better to be more careful than just jumping into things, and sometimes if you are too rash in your actions you will come to regret them.

I think that it was a very well written story, and there isn't much I can tell you as to how to improve it; except to watch out for run-ons. This would be the one that would call the most attention to it:

But the second traveller was not as conservative in his movements, and as he set his boot onto the bridge, the whole structure crumbled, and both plunged down and were crushed by the peaceful rocks below.


It would probably be better off separated into a couple different sentences.

The bridge was extremely unstable: dampened by years of spray from the river, dotted with holes, dilapidated in every sense.


Also, I think you meant to use a semi-colon after "unstable".

Now as for the second... I really enjoyed this one as well, and you did an amazing job personifying the rock.

However, as with your first story I noticed quite a few run-on sentences. Maybe just go through your story a bit, and make sure that your sentences don't run on for way too long. Separate them when you can, and when it feels like you need a new sentence.

And lastly, I would just like to make the suggestion that you could separate the paragraph into maybe two or three different ones so it's not so clumped together. But it's your story so your decision!

In conclusion, I'd like to say awesome job! You're an extremely good writer, and I look forward to reading more of your work in the future! :)
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Haha! Reminds me of Aesop! Though very short, they can have certain dark meanings in them. I can't say which one of the two I like better. They are both concise AND enternaing. What more can one ask for?

-PS Have you ever thought of writing a dystopian novel or story? Like 1984? I think your style of writing would be great for it!
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Kafkaescence wrote:TravellersTravelers
Two travellerstravelers were hiking upon a dirt path that wound its way through a forest. They walked for days, and eventually reached a shallow river. A thin bridge was hung above it. The bridge was extremely unstable: dampened by years of spray from the river, dotted with holes,Semicolon would be better dilapidated in every sense. The first man said, “I shall go first to see if it is steady.” And so he tentatively placed his foot onto the bridge and, seeing that it did not break, ventured to ease the rest of his body on. Step by step, he reached the middle of the bridge. “It is safe!” he called to his companion. But the second travellertraveler was not as conservative in his movements. As he set his boot onto the bridge, the whole structure crumbled, and both plunged down and were crushed by the peaceful rocks below.


Sorry, but I didn't get to finish the second one, but nonetheless, a review. Hopefully I'll remember to do the second one when I get back(I had to go). :)

UPDATED! YAY!:

Kafkaescence wrote:The Rock
I have been thrashed about in the vehement waters of the ocean for nearly all of eternity, before I was spit out upon the sand, where I lie, cradled by the ceaseless noise of the waves; swinging in at times, then retreating back out, like a pendulumWhat? That breaks the flow of the story, and it took forever to register in my mind, I recommend that it be removed, tossed away like the Rock! :wink: . But I am lonely. I have sat here for years, never having felt the smoothness of a human hand, the warmth of a human heart. I am beautiful: round, hardy, a dark, handsome shade of gray. But I am unappreciated, unobserved, even tread upon. They have kicked me, and I have rolled through the sand, only to stop in a new position. I try to ignore this, tell myself that if they were only to look at me, they would see how precious I am. I know that one day there will be a child who will pick me up, turn me over in their hands, admire my unique texture. This is what I remind myself each time I am passed by, or stepped on, or abused. I lie there, alone, unwanted. And one day I feel it: the fingers wrapping around me, lifting me into the air. At last! The day has come! I shall be loved, cherished! As the child toys with me in his hands, I glimpse his face: not adoring, but more like...amused? There is a second of horrible realization before he hurls me into the water, where I am swallowed and cast into the sand beneath.


I can't think of much else to say other than "OMG, that was Fabulous!!!!!!!" I liked it a lot. I love it when stories are told from interesting/different perspectives. Ever read the Book Thief? Told from the POV of Death/Grim Reaper. On-Topic: Other than that one thing, very good! Keep it up!

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Tsk. Do you not know that 'travellers' is perfectly acceptable British?



A true poet does not bother to be poetical. Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses.
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