Write A Story の小説・ストーリー

You all know I love having a mommy, or a daddy or anyone really, I’ll take a non-binary caregiver really, I don’t mind really. The story, most of my stories have a little bit of me in them, I write being inspired by friends and events in my life, this story, well you could guess who got me inspired this time, I started to write while drinking my coffee getting carried away with the story, I paid no attention to anything but my laptop, I’ll do few chapters tonight, maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll sell it later and make enough to buy a jacket.

“I want to write with you.” There was a long pause. Birds chirped overhead like a soundtrack. “I don’t understand.” River pulled a small notebook from their bag and flipped it open. The first page read: The Second Story: Co-Written by River Ellis and Skye Donovan. “You don’t have to say yes,” they said quickly. “I just… I realized the story I want to tell next isn’t mine alone. It’s ours. And I don’t know how it ends yet. But I know it begins here.”

“You’ve come a long way from the boy who wouldn’t even raise his hand in class.” Ryan met his eyes. “Yeah. But that boy didn’t have you two.” That night, Ryan sat at his desk with his laptop open, fingers poised above the keyboard. A blank document stared back at him. He began to write not a speech this time, not a private diary. A story. His story. Because if Adrien thought he could silence him with fear, he was about to learn that some voices don’t stay quiet forever. Not this time. Not Ryan’s.

He brandished the book he was reading and said to Anna, "Look! Merpeople do exist! Sylvie is a mermaid. She was the one who rescued me from the ocean all those years ago…" "You've lost your mind, Connor." Anna snatched the book and tore out the page that spoke of merpeople before continuing, "Merpeople don't exist! You told me that yourself. You also promised that I'd be the only person you'd ever love. "Do you know that ever since the video of you and Sylvie went viral, I've become a laughingstock in Jewelton? Everyone is mocking me for being deluded and overestimating myself. They all say I'm just Sylvie's substitute!"

Contact you later. I lay alone on the cold floor, my hair messy, my pajamas dusted. I felt a little helpless, but more than anything, I wanted to get out on my own. I did not want to trouble anyone, let alone let strangers enter my bedroom. So I began to adjust my position calmly: first relax my shoulder and back muscles, tuck my arms to my chest to reduce the space my body took up, then slowly support the floor with my elbows and shift my center of gravity back little by little.

Confusion crossed my face. “Stories?” She nodded. “I didn’t know you.” The simplicity of the answer hurt. “I couldn’t write about your life because I wasn’t part of it.” My throat tightened. “So I wrote about mine.” Silence settled between us. Heavy. Personal. “I told you about the first apartment I ever rented.” A small smile appeared. “I told you how terrible I was at cooking.” Another smile. Sadder this time. “I told you about the stray dog that followed me home and refused to leave.”

* * * Kristen came, her story penned. She shudders, wondering what her next story should be. Maybe something with doctors and nurses?