Blind-The Short Short Story Challenge

A personal creation for story writers everywhere. Pick an object closest to your right, and write a short story on it, no less than 200 words (hard to curb your imagination, I know.) You can write any type of story, as long as the object features in it and tag someone if you want (link their blog too). Get writing!

Object: Football

Story: Blind 

Adrenaline was pumping through me as I ran the length of the field, the football in my control. The crowd is cheering my name, the name of my team, and the scorned few are cheering the opposition on.  Today is my moment. That moment I lead my team to its first victory in years by kicking the final goal. I swerve around my attackers and navigate around the waiting defense. My heartbeat audible in my ears, I kick, without giving a second glance and it soars into the goal. My team screams with joy as I’m hoisted onto their shoulders and the audience is going wild. I’m crying tears of joy and then...

I wake up to darkness. This is not new to me; it is only something I see every day. No, I’m not part of a football team or a football fan or anything like it. Or have been. Or will ever be. The absence of light, of colour, of anything, in my life is not new to me.

I’m the only one with any memory of the world. But I have been made blind to it.

It's inspired by the Maze Runner trilogy and The Giver.

Tagged: Rutvi and Preetha

How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb? (Dad's favourite joke)

One, but it depends on whether the light bulb wants to change.

See you whenever.

A 7th Grade Story-The Decision

Before you go on with this, I would like to remind you, dear reader, of 2 things

a) I wrote this story in the 7th grade, when I had poor writing skill and no praise for subtle messages and metaphors

b) Yes, I know this is my 3rd post today. I seem to have incredible amounts of free time. Hopefully, this will tide you over any long gaps I have.

Onwards! 

David closed his eyes and took a deep soul-focusing breath. Slow, cleansing breaths.  He looked at his choices again. There seemed to be many choices, each tempting him in their own lucrative way but he knew he finally had only two choices. The other choices seemed to fade into the background leaving only two, almost illuminated amongst the rest. Which shall he choose? The one he knew, or the one he didn’t? 

The first one, he had tried and tested. He knew exactly how everything would go if he picked first. Every single twist and turn his life would take. He had taken this choice countless times and its familiarity appealed to him. He turned his head to the other choice. So different, it was, so new. It was an unknown path he would have taken, different from all his other choices. It was risky, daring. Who knew what he had to put on the line if he took that choice? What would he have to give up? But then again, what all would he gain? The risks stood out to him.

This choice would change his life’s path and what he would become. Would he turn into a “safe” person, knowing what would happen, be familiar with everything, and never be in danger? Or would he turn into a risky man, one whose life was exciting everywhere but not knowing what dangers could be at every corner? Yes, this was how important this choice was to him. It would probably alter his life irrevocably. The jaws of the people behind him clenched. It would not only affect him but so many other people. Probably not as harshly as his own life, but change nevertheless. He wished he had more time. He wanted to contemplate, think more on his choices and sleep on it. But time was ticking. He had to pick fast, and pick well.

He shut his eyes one last time to focus himself and calm his nerves. He reluctantly decided he would take the safer, first option.  With a heavy heart, he turned his head to the person awaiting his final choice. He said to that being.

“You know what, forget it. I’ll just have my regular cheeseburger with fries instead of the new Mexican chill burger. Same old, same old McDonalds.”

Talk about a plot twist, eh?

A Neutron walks into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender says, "For you, no charge"

See you whenever.

The Silent Observer-This Story Thing

Chick flick alert! Well, not really. But still, if it veers into chick flick category, don't say I didn't warn you.
I've had this idea since November and never thought to put it down. Well now I am.

Story:
Hi, I'm an observer of everything. I'm shy and mousy and people just don't pay attention to me. I'm not complaining or anything, in fact, I love to observe. So here I am. Another day in my high school.

Oh! There's the bell. I see kids rushing everywhere and Ms Drew walks out.
Lipstick? Perfect. Coif? Perfect. Clothes? Perfect. If there was a teacher version of perfection, Ms Drew was it. She's still struggling to fit in, it's evident. She drinks out a "Best Teacher" mug which she obviously gifted to herself (new, never polished and still with the price tag sticker) and takes home piles of work, often others. I have seen your writing on my tests sometimes, and you don't teach me.

Jake skateboards past me. He's the supposed cool guy or something. He has issues, I know. Don't ask me how, I just do. His saggy pants, headphones, loud voice and attention to popular things tell that he's desperate to fit in and don't think, Jake, that those stiches that mean that you, or someone else, mended your clothes, aren't visible to me

Arlene stomps past in her grunge cargo pants and a metal sweatshirt. It's clear as day that she's got something going on, why else would she be in a bad mood?It's not family issues though. Or boy issues. Or school issues. She just wants to be a non-conformist and not like stuff anyone else does. I've heard strains of Taylor Swift from your earphones, Arlene.She's going about it the wrong way though. Ask me, I've observed people who don't fit in for years.

A gaggle of girls walk past. They look similar in their pink heels and matching bags, Vera Bradley, I think. It is Mean Girls day today for them, which meant pink. Yes, it is a Wednesday.

In class, Mr Ericman tries explaining the symbolism in An Allegory of A Cave, by Aristotle. It was quite fascinating, however the music girls behind me wouldn't stop singing to The Cave by Mumford and Sons. After listening carefully, they turned out to be an inspiration from An Allegory. I was obvious that they never knew. Mr Ericman struggles to teach. If he only was a little stricter.

In Algebra, Violet pretends not to know cubic equations. It is to impress Carl, but it is so clear that Carl liked smart Violet, not dumb Violet. And Violet is smart. Her calculations are almost at lightning speed. Violet, this is clichéd, but be who you are.

I realize the words "evident" and "clear" have cropped up quite frequently. Maybe that is not the case. Maybe others don't see what I'm perceptive towards. Even the smallest change I notice. I would be wonderful to live as someone else for a day and see how much they notice. Do they see that Hansen's laces are blue, not black anymore? Do they see that the lunch lady is wearing a new cap? Do they notice that the computers in the lab have been cleaned around the edges somewhere on Monday?
Do they notice, do they see?

Ends.
Opinions? And your ideas?
Also, how articulate are my titles?
See you whenever.