Weapon
There are many things that can be used as weapons. I heard stories where even the most unlikely object was used a weapon. Like the story about the man, who had killed his wife with a toothpick. It was a gruesome story. The man had broken the toothpick into two and mixed the pieces into her porridge. She was always a fast eater and swallowed one of the pieces whole. I guess she must have died painfully when it lodged into her throat.
Another story I remember was about the boy who killed the great grizzly bear with a piece of string. Well, at first I didn’t believe it could be done, but the explanation was quite reasonable. The bear had been chasing the boy for quite some time and it looked as though he was a goner, when he had run to the edge of a cliff. He had nowhere to go and the bear was running toward him. Luckily a piece of string was strung across the path. The string caught the grizzly’s foot tripping it. The bear unable to recover its balance in time plunged over the cliff. I questioned the storyteller about how the string could have been strong enough to do this. The storyteller told me that the string was the strong thick kind which was used to mark park paths and that boy had been lucky that he hadn’t tripped over the string as well. These were unusual weapons, but there are practical weapons as well like guns, knives, clubs, and so forth. We have all heard stories where these had been used to kill. We all know how effective these weapons are at killing.
Well, the time had come I had to think. There must be something that couldn’t be used as a weapon. I had done many bad things for which I now regret. I’ve killed many people, many ways. Now it was my turn to die. The court decided that I could choose the weapon which would cause my death. In the room there was silence as everyone witnessing the trial awaited my answer. I could think of nothing... “That’s it! Nothing!” I said out loud. “I choose nothing”, I said with confidence. “So be it” the judge said firmly “the court sentences you to die by nothing.” I smiled. I had won. I continued to smile, until I was taken to a small room that was empty, completely devoid of weapons. Except one that is, nothing was there and without something, air, I quickly died.
SET
SET
There is something unusual about the way things seem to happen without reason. Just the other day I had been working as a pizza delivery boy, now look at me. I stand here in the middle of a big Hollywood set with cameras rolling, famous people practicing their lines, and bright lights shining down. My parents said that I would never amount to much. They were people of little faith in my natural talent. I knew this day would come and I would be a star. One day I am pizza a delivery boy, the next day I’m a actor in a hollywood blockbuster. It all happened so suddenly I had delivered pizza to the casting director for the movie. He took one look at me and said I was perfect. I knew that I was good but I blushed when he said I was perfect. My parents always called me perfect too, they said that I was a perfect waste of life. I think they meant that in the nicest of all possible ways though. They had been so worried about me moving to hollywood with my half-sussed plan of becoming a star. Maybe, I was blessed by fate and all my dreams would come true.
I sat in a nice directors style chair with a golden star on its back. A woman was fixing my hair and taking the greatest of care with my make-up. I looked my best ever. I held in my hands the script and practiced my lines for the next scene. I noticed that the set was being prepared for my scene. It is really quite amazing how they can make any setting come to life. Just a few moments ago the set was of a deli restaurant. Yet now by moving things here and others there the set looked like the apartment of a secret agent, who was being portrayed by... well, I don’t like to name drop... but let’s just say that he had an Austrian accent and big muscles. I said my lines outloud, I liked the way that they sounded when I said them. I was really quite convincing.
The director called me to the set. I was ready. Ready for my role and ready for stardom. The director called out action. It was my role to walk down the hallway and knock upon the secret agent's door. With confidence I strode down the fake hallway of the Hollywood set and knocked on the door. I was worried that I had knocked too hard, but everyone seemed quite pleased with my performance so far. The door opened and the secret agent said his line, it was my turn. For many years I dreamed of this moment. I thought about the future and the critics' reviews. Maybe they would call my performance stunning, refreshing, and true to life and call me as a bright new star. What would I say for my Academy award acceptance speech? With all these thoughts racing through my head, I said my line, “ Here’s your pizza.” I was finished and a star was born.
Stuffed Animal
Stuffed Animal
When I was very young my father gave me a stuffed animal that was his when he was a child. It was not the soft squeeze-able kind of stuff animal that we have nowadays. Instead, it was quite hard, with wooden chips packed inside. Also, it was quite ugly and was borderline scary. Its fur was all matted and clumps had fallen out, so there were bare patches. Its glass eyes seemed to stare and looked as if they were ready to fall out. One of its ears was ripped and was being held on by only a couple threads. My father said his name was Toby as he lovingly give me the stuffed animal. Toby had been packed for a long time in a box and smelled musty when I held him. Also, my hands became blackened by his dusty fur, which came out as touched him. I tried to smile and be appreciative, but managed only and smirk and a “thannnkk you.....” This was a big deal for my father to give this to me, he was quite sentimental about Toby. He told me that he had gotten Toby when he was very young, during the war. He said that Toby would protect him when he slept and no matter how scary things got Toby was aways there. I really tried again to look appreciative, but still couldn’t quite muster a smile.
I went to my room with Toby in my hands. I knew that my father was trying to help me. I had been so scared as a child. I always worried that some monster was lurking under my bed. Maybe, he thought Toby would protect me. But I was scared of Toby. I really couldn’t help it. Its glass eyes looked at me strangely and its mustiness made me queasy. I took Toby and put him in my closet on the top self. Then quickly closed the closet and tied it shut with the sting from an old pair of shoes. I knew that he would be trapped inside my closet. I slept well that night. I did not fear monsters anymore. No, I had only one fear, Toby. I knew that he was safely locked away so he would never get me.
Introduction into my world of story
This Blog is dedicated the stories that I've written over past ten to fifteen years. Many of the stories were created by having a firend or family member supplying me with a keyword or keywords, which became the topic for the story. Usually, I told the stories outloud to the group in sort of the campfire way. Later I wrote many of them down but some I'll putting in this blog will be typed for the first time.
