I Am A Stick Novels & Stories

My hands caught a stick; I prayed to the moon that the stick was strong enough to inflict some pain on them. They chased after me and one of them jumped on me. I fell to the ground and somersaulted, dislodging the one who had jumped on me. When I stood up with my stick in my hands, they stood and faced me, snarling and barking. I rolled my stick in the air and barked. They barked and laughed. Then they made for me. I ran. Whether something coiled up my feet or my feet hit something, I didn’t know but one minute later I was on the ground, in pains. They giggled and rushed at me.

“You have always been nothing and you will forever be nothing.” The voices seemed to be coming from all around me in every direction as I swung the stick in my hand all around aiming for nothing in particular. “I am LiLY FUCKING BLAKE!” I scream out loud in frustration. “Come at me if you dare!” The voice lets out another round of laughter in every direction. “Look at the scared puppy, shaking in her boots.” “You are nothing like me!” The voice yells back. The sound is so loud and comes with a gust of wind that it forces me to bend over, drop the stick and cover my ears with my hands for fear of it being ruptured.

"No. You didn't. That's what caught my attention." He's unhurried, all the time in the world. I can move now. Barely. It's like trying to wade through syrup. My arms obey, sluggish and stiff, and my knees threaten mutiny with every shift of weight. But my mouth? That's always been the sharpest blade I've got. And right now, it's the only one not stuck in its sheath. "You gonna let me go," I growl, "or are we still playing the mysterious stalker hits on bloody women in alleys game?"

) Please help me, I don't want to die now. I pick up one of the moping stick and walk slowly towards the main door. I peep through it and saw a guy's figure, unfortunately, I couldn't see his face. I slowly open the door and when I was about to hit him with the stick.... He shout and dogde my stick. "What the hell are you trying to do?." He glared at me "You!!!!! You're here?."

They believed that if I just gave in and said I was fine, all those crimes would disappear beneath a pile of money. However, I was no longer that little girl waiting at the far end of the long table for scraps of cold leftovers. Never again would I denigrate myself just to protect my family's reputation.

Thank goodness she’d brought her tweezers. Wait, she needed to focus. She was talking sense to herself, remember? “Lucia Hills. This is all fake. This is a fake date; this is a fake boyfriend. You can’t just go around kissing hot guys who look like they come straight out of a movie set because they smile at you like that and listen to you prattle on about your job for a few minutes.

I honestly can't believe anyone would fight over secondhand goods that someone else has already discarded. She deliberately emphasized the word "secondhand", as if I were nothing more than trash she could summon or dismiss at will. Cedric pretended not to understand, suppressing a smirk as he said softly, "Don't be like that. I'm sure Quintin has his pride too." I paid no attention and turned to leave. But Miriam took a long stride, blocking me squarely between the counter and the floor-to-ceiling window. With a casual but rough motion, she hooked the box and snatched it away.

A spoon with a rope as a handle has more purpose than I'll ever have. I'm currently living an average, uneventful life, but It isn't what I crave. I'd rather have an honest, hard-working life where I have to strive for everything or a carefree lifestyle where I never have to lift a finger! My astonishingly mundane life is stuck in mediocrity. My name is Miles, not Morales, Reyes instead. I'm your cliché below average, fake depressing 17-year-old. The first thing you should know about me is that I'm a genuine advocate of equality among humans; I equally hate all.

It was a stick like figure and there were two hands and two legs that were made of stick too. Its head was made of leaves that sprouted from its brain maybe and there were tow big dots on his body. He was a walking stick. I only blinked and rubbed my eyes, thinking that I was hallucinating. Maybe I really needed to go back and sleep. But despite rubbing my eyes and staring intently, it was clear that I was indeed staring at a walking stick. “What is this?” I breathed and the stick quickly hid behind the leaves. “Come out, I saw you”

It was my punishment and my teacher. I held it in both hands, feeling the smooth, hard grain of the wood. I walked over to the full-length mirror and looked at myself. My eyes were red and puffy. My hair was a mess. I looked exactly like what the voice said, a joke. A useless thing that couldn't even spell a ten-letter word. I raised the stick, my heart hammering. I looked at my reflection and felt a wave of pure, hot anger. “Why are you like this, Gianna? Why can't you just be normal?”